Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore art thou Romeo?

Ever since I have worked at the Cincinnati Zoo I have dreamed about owning Peafowl. I was so enchanted with the Victorian vision of Peacocks displaying their iridescent feathers around our farm. However, I just couldn't sell Rick on the idea of a large Vilociraptor-like bird that screams when frightened (day or night) and has a habit of roosting in exactly the places you wish they wouldn't (like the roof of your house).

Over the last several years I have tried to warm Rick up to the idea of Peafowl and thought perhaps a few Guineafowl would be a good introduction to Peafowl ownership. After all, they were somewhat of a smaller version of Peafowl. And so, our farm became home to half a dozen beautifully speckled little Guineas. In the end, I found that they screamed at everything (including Rick and I) and roosted exactly where you didn't want them to (in the tree tops in the middle of a snow storm or in the neighbors apple tree).

These birds had fifty acres to call home and a warm comfy food-filled coop to keep them safe at night. Instead, each morning I would open their coop and they would fall into rank, marching one by one, following the driveway down to the road and take a right. Their determination to leave my farm would have been humorous if I hadn't been so worried for their safety. Rick would retrieve them like a Shepard gathering his flock; rounding them up with a large stick and driving them back down our hill each evening. For this reason, I began keeping them locked up which left both them and I miserable. I gave up the illusion of being a Guineafowl owner and found them a new home where they could runaway on someone else's watch.

After this experience, the mere mention of Peacock ownership would bring back memories of the Guineafowl debacle. Rick was all too happy to bring up my failure in this animal husbandry department. Still yearning for additional fowl to fill my barnyard niche, I began pondering geese. The more I read about geese, the more I found them to be personable creatures and perhaps a good alternative to Peafowl.

My only experience with geese was CQ, the quirky goose owned by my mother-in-law.
When I met CQ, he was an ancient goose in terms of goose age, pushing probably 13 years of age. I would visit Rick's mother's house and would watch the goose run around the stalls with the sheep and goats as though it was one of them. In fact, the goose was known to "adopt" one of the sheep and proudly ride around on the sheep's back. Over time, the sheep would pass on and the CQ would pick another lucky sheep victim to use as transportation around the barn yard. What were the chances that I would end up with such a quirky goose?

And so, I settled on a pair of geese. After I researched the different varieties, I settled upon the beautiful African goose, known for their docile temperaments. I placed my order for one male and one female African goose and eagerly awaited their delivery. Late that spring, the chirping brown box filled with fluff arrived at the local post office. Upon opening the box at the post office, I found myself puzzled by the contents of one light brown gosling and one all yellow gosling staring back at me. They were different varieties ....... I would later find out that the hatchery mailed me a white Chinese male and a female African by accident (as a side note, the Chinese goose is known for its aggressive guard-dog-like behavior). And so, I named them Romeo and Juliet, two lovers from different rival families.

I gathered the box up and brought them to work to begin bonding with the 2 day old goslings. They spent the day in a cardboard box next to my desk and quickly became accustomed to my voice, squawking every time they heard me. The only way to quite them was to allow them to sleep in my lap, and so, that is where they spend their first day.

I had read about the difficulties of geese ownership. The biggest problems seem to be routed in aggressive behavior and the aggressive behavior was generally attributed to lack of bonding at a young age. And so, they lived in our house the first month and took daily walks with me, and enjoyed baths in Raven's baby pool.

A year later, Romeo and Juliet proudly call our barnyard their home. Romeo lives up to all the characteristic of his variety.....he is loud......he is mean......and he doesn't like people in his barnyard (including Rick). I believe that even Juliet gets tired of his boisterous behavior. She squeezes under the gate and spends the day in the yard, free of Romeo's overbearing behavior. But each night she returns to him to lay her egg.

And with having geese, comes some of their quirky behavior. Rick and I have both tried relentlessly to introduce them to the farm pond, but the moment they realize that their feet don't touch the bottom they exist the pond with feathers flying. Perhaps this is residual behavior from the days spent in our bathtub and in Raven's baby pool. To them, the next best thing to Raven's baby pool has been our spring-fed watering trough. Now we must come up with a screen to keep the pesky geese out. That is one thing about farm animals, they are always trying to make new projects to keep you busy.

And do they remember their "mother"?........ Of course. I am not sure if they love me or hate me, but they greet me with a different behavior than anyone else. Especially Romeo who insist on climbing onto my back to groom my hair when I collect eggs. Yes, I video tapped this embarrassing interaction for your entertainment below. Who needs peacocks anyways.....

The Memoir of a Vegetarian Meat Farmer

I don’t pretend to be perfect. I eat fast food, I occasionally forget my reusable shopping bags and bring home my groceries in plastic Kroger bags, I don’t own a hybrid vehicle, and my home isn’t off the grid. Oh yeah and I own a small meat farm too. I do my best. I don’t drive an SUV (who can afford to anymore), I switched all my lights to compact fluorescent, and I don’t buy or eat meat from confined animal feedlots.

Yup, the meat issue. I have struggled with that issue for a while. The labels and categories seem endless: vegan, vegetarian, locavore, etc. The reasons for the eating decisions are just as lengthy as the labels.

My belief has always been rooted in a very simple life principle, respect. Respect all those around you, including animals. Respect the land and the gifts it provides. Allow the animals that are consumed by people to live a healthy life with respect and dignity. I don‘t separate us from the food chain. I see humans as interwoven into the web-of-life just as a bird of prey is while hunting a rabbit. They don’t raise their food in small lots and pump them full of antibiotics and hormones!

Perhaps my need for raising my own meat isn’t as much as a search for healthy source of food as it is reminiscing of a life style, having grown up on a farm.

Over the years I became more and more aware of the short falls in our current US meat industry. I had all the knowledge, but kept making the wrong choices. Finally, I made the promise last year to stop eating all meat unless I knew that it was both raised and slaughtered in a humane and sustainable manner... in other words…..it was treated with respect. And so, to this day I have kept that promise. I know that my single choice to boycott confined animal feedlots, mistreatment of animals and poor quality food won't change anything within itself. However, I have been able to say for the last year that I played no part in a system that causes suffering of farm animals, environmental degradation, and toxic foods. And so I continue to hope for change and until then focus on the quote from Dr. Seuss’ Lorax , “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better, it’s not.”

I have become accustomed to eating out with family and friends and being labeled as a vegetarian since I won’t eat the meat. Eyebrows are always raised as people try to figure out why a farmer who raises goats, chickens, and hogs doesn’t eat meat. Hence, why I began calling myself the vegetarian meat farmer. This is always followed by a lengthy explanation of my eating practices that boils down to “I only eat animals I know".

Though for some it seems unthinkable to eat the very animal that you knew, fed, and raised. But to me it is the ultimate gift I can give to all livestock. I do morn the loss of each one of our animals, and the day I don't morn their loss anymore is the day I will stop slaughtering our animals. In sacrificing their lives, I put away my uncomfortable feelings and attachments to the animals and treat them with respect verses buying an animal off of the grocery meat market shelf that was in all practices tortured in both life and death. I refuse to be the proverbial ostrich with its head in the sand pretending not to know the injustices that these animals go through and the lies that have been literally “fed” to the American public. If only factory farms and slaughter houses had glass walls perhaps things would change.

And so, we raise our own meat in the manner that is agreeable to our family. As part of our farm, we raise two hogs a year on pasture. They are not kept in muddy pens and forced to wallow in their own feces. The hogs are free to roam the pasture and are supplemented with kitchen and garden scraps and some grain as they grow. They are given no antibiotics or growth hormones nor do we remove their teeth or cut of their tails (all common practices in confined feed lots). They enjoy their days on the farm and even receive baths with the garden hoses on hot summer days.

I will be honest; I never set out to raise hogs. In fact, the only reason they reside on my farm is because I love bacon that much. My husband is the one with the affinity for piggies. The story goes like this…a couple of years ago I received a phone call from Rick while I was at work. He asked me what I thought about buying a couple of feeder pigs. Before I could answer, I heard the squealing in the background and quickly realized that the decision had already been made.

I arrived home that night to see a small black and white Tamworth/Hamshire cross piglet staring back at me from the stall. Rick explained that one of the piglets had gotten out and was running feral in our pasture. He had tried in vain to capture the little guy. Though I have never been a hog farmer, I knew from growing up on a farm that grain is the equalizer to all animal/human disagreements. I grabbed a bucket of grain and sat out in the field. Soon the piglet was in my lap chowing down. And so began our exploration in hog raising………

This year has been no exception. We purchased two feeder piglets in the spring and in November we butchered both of them. One is transported to the local butcher shop less than two miles away where it is butchered and processed by hand and the other hog is butchered by Rick and a handful of friends in our barn.

Below are some pictures of our hog slaughter that took place in our barn in November. I hope these photos don’t offend anyone. Please remember that this animal was treated with respect and dignity from life to death. We thank our animals for giving their lives to provide healthy and nurturing food for my friends and family.