AgriCulture: Today's Darkness

Today's Darkness by Mark Scherzer

September 11, 2020, dawned refreshingly cool on the farm, but with a dark and foreboding sky. Very different from the crystal clear crispness of September 11, 2001, which we have now come to expect on this day of remembrance. As my friend Steve commented, “That’s an unspoken promise between God and all New Yorkers. Like, ‘yeah, it’s a sad anniversary, but you know it’ll be much cooler and less muggy from this day forward!” Just like he put a rainbow in the sky after the flood.”

The darkness, however, was appropriate to the mood of morose contemplativeness that often overcomes me at this time of year. That mood is built on a solid foundation. I have a lifelong history of post Labor Day dread at returning to school, where as a child I was reminded of just what an outsider, a faggy nerdy Jewish kid in a jocky Catholic town, I was. Add to that 9/11 itself: getting caught in the black cloud of the South Tower collapse trying to get back to my apartment fearful for the fate of my partner, Peter, and then observing from the windows of that apartment during periodic visits over the ensuing months the somber removal of remains from the World Trade Center site. The trauma of September 11 for me is followed by the trauma of September 12: the date of Peter’s death in 2018. Have I mentioned Yom Kippur? Or the current sorry state of the world?

No wonder when my friend Susie sent around an email the other day labeled “Today’s Darkness,” transmitting a picture of the smoky brown pall from nearby wildfires engulfing a hiking area near her California home, I replied: “And there are so many other potential referents of that subject line.”

The stage was well set, then, for me to ponder the current sad question I face on the farm, what to do about Ayşe? Ayşe, you may recall, is the elderly (12 years old) ewe who is now blind. She is the daughter of the late beloved Sultana, who herself was bottle fed and therefore close to us, and who acculturated Ayşe to be similarly human-friendly. There is still great mutual affection between us. But unfortunately, her blindness is having a major negative impact on the quality of her life.

This September 11 morning, when I got to the barn I was pleased to observe that the flock had already moved itself out to the far northern pasture, about two thirds of the way to the Rider Farm we abut, to graze. Far enough that if I called “hey girls” to let them know their morning grain treat was awaiting them in their feed bowls, they would not hear me. I was fine with that. I figured I would just leave the barn doors open and they would enjoy the grain when they decided to mosey back.

As I was heading back to the house, however, I heard the unmistakable baaahs Ayşe bellows out, audible all over the neighborhood, when she is lost. Looking out, I saw Ayşe, all alone, at the crest of the hill. The rest of the flock, I figured, must have wandered elsewhere. When I reached her location, I realized the flock was no more than about 100 feet away, just slightly down the other side of the hill. But Ayşe was walking in circles, frantically, unable to find them. (see photos above)

I walked her over to rejoin the herd and as soon as she was close enough to smell them and hear them, knowing she was among them, she stopped baahing. Mission accomplished, I strolled back toward the barn. When I got about half way there, the flock in its collective wisdom figured out that a grain treat was imminent, and started following me. Eighty per cent of the time, Ayşe manages to stay with them, but this time, for the second time of the morning, she did not. Again I heard the baahing, and again she remained out in that pasture, circling. A second trek out there was required, and this time, because the rest of the flock had already thundered into the barn, I had to guide her the whole way back, keeping her on track, averting collisions with fences, and often running to head her off when she arbitrarily changed direction.

Unlike humans, who through a combination of technology , compensation from other senses, and social accommodation can function reasonably well in society despite visual impairments, a blind herd animal like Ayşe is seriously diminished in her ability to live. Baaahing loudly out in the middle of a field when isolated is likely to attract predators. More important, being part of a herd is part of the essence of sheepiness. Being alone makes them distraught, and spending a substantial part of each day lost and distraught makes for a very low quality of life.

On the other hand, Ayşe in most respects functions normally. She enjoys her grain treat and butts other sheep out of the way to get her share. She is a member in good standing of the flock. I wonder if the 80% of the time she spends with a normal sheep quality of life is good enough to make her feel like the 20% bad time is worth going through. Unfortunately, she can’t tell me.

If this were a more business-like farm, an animal like Ayşe, past reproductive age and with wool of low quality because of declining health, would have been culled long ago. If this were a rich man’s hobby farm, I would have used some of my vast resources to explore eye surgery as a solution. But the farm is somewhere in a gray zone in between, as Ayşe is somewhere in a gray zone between livestock and pet. I’ve got to balance the resources available to run the farm against its needs, and try at the same time to keep the best interests of the animals in my thoughts.

I suspect I’ll just keep muddling through for a while, devoting part of my days to rescuing Ayşe, until there’s a discernible greater shift to the negative in her quality of life. One might say that while Ayşe is wandering in her darkness I’m wandering a bit lost in my own.
flock in field

WHAT’S NEW THIS WEEK:

CHICKENS COMING! Our delicious organically fed, pasture raised, slow growing French Freedom Ranger chickens are going to market Monday, September 13. They will be available fresh starting Tuesday afternoon, September 14 and frozen starting Thursday September 16. I expect most to be in the 4 to 6 lb. range. $6/lb

WHAT’S AVAILABLE THIS WEEK

We won’t be harvesting vegetables this weekend, as we are occupied with getting chickens off to market (but if you’re desperate for something you know we’ve got that’s a quick harvest, like kale or sorrel or chard, let us know and we’ll make the effort). Together with chickens for during this week, we’ve got:

EGGS: $5/doz

LAMB: fresh back from processing, Legs of lamb and loin chops, $14/lb, boneless lamb shoulder and shoulder steaks, $10/lb, Ground lamb, $7/lb. For the Central Asians among you, lamb tails, $5/lb.

PORK: fresh ham roasts (2 to 3 lbs), $12/lb

FARM PICKUPS:

Email us your order at [email protected], and let us know when you’d like to pick up your order. It will be put out for you on the side screened porch of the farmhouse (110 Lasher Ave., Germantown) in a bag. You can leave cash or a check in the now famous pineapple on the porch table. Because I’m now here full time, we’re abandoning regular pick-up times. Let us know when you want your order any day between 10 and 5, and unless there are unusual circumstances we’ll be able to ready it to your convenience. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to call or text at 917-544-6464 or email.