Second Tuesday on Franklin Hill Farm

Winter reflections

By Bettina Sperry

In the cool mountain air, I bathed at my wishing well. At 9 o’clock on an August morning, my shower curtain was the green grass, vast pastures, mountains, and blue sky. The water was cold and clear. Almost as if seeing my farm for the first time, I recognized the abundance of water available to the life on this farm. A creek winds its way through the length of the property at the base of the hill. Another branch feeds into it near the house. A pond rests above the northern pasture. Farther beyond the farm, up the winding road a few miles, is a man-made lake. It is where the eagle soars.
    A quiet praise is always present during rainy days. When it rains, my creeks are filled and running hard and the soil replenished with moisture. But it is winter now and the hardest days on a farm are those of a freezing rain. Providing adequate shelter for the horses and cows, I find myself praying that they use it. But after several weeks of preparing an extensively large run-in shed, in the worst of weather, I found my cows and horses on the south side of the farm grazing the pasture, away from the warmth I had just prepared.
    There’s a fine line between cold and freezing that makes a difference as to whether one walks through mud or on top of it. I have spent many a day sloughing among the paddocks, at times when my black rubber boots are sucked into the mud so deeply they come off my feet rather than plodding along with me. On farms where there is adequate or an abundance of precipitation, and during above-freezing temperatures, water fills the holes where one walks or where tractor tires leave an imprint. The damage done to a field in the winter by horses, cows, or tractors can be extensive. During a good freeze, the mud hardens and becomes a treacherous ground of deep crevasses – a hardened ground for which a farmer can be grateful, given the alternative of deep, cold mud.

    It is in winter, when everything is still, that I set forth my goals for the coming year, being philosophical and reflecting on my intentions. Winter forces a deep awareness of the reasons I farm, how I farm, and what I hope to gain as I contemplate the coming year. Goal-setting helps establish my expected financial and economic outcomes from the work of farming. Long hours and lengthy seasons of reproduction, growth, and maturation of product are best accomplished when managed with an eye towards the fruit of harvest – and well ahead of time.

A few nights ago, a neighbor stopped by and, in asking how I was doing, reminded me that most people who set up horse farms quit in the face of harsh winters. While I love winter, and love my cows and horses, it is true that farming isn’t for everyone. Thomas Jefferson was one such farmer who understood this concept, suggesting that those for whom farming wasn’t a suitable engagement ought instead to consider manufacturing what specifically complements farmers’ needs. Having a disdain for industrialism and urbanization, or city life, Jefferson argued that farming, agriculture, and rural life were central to the development of a moral, virtuous, and democratic populace, and essential to self-sufficiency and to our independence as a country. Further, Jefferson stated,

Cultivators of the earth are the most valuable citizens. They are the most vigorous, the most independent, the most virtuous, and they are tied to their country, and wedded to its liberty and interests, by the most lasting bonds.

    Jefferson steadfastly believed in the sense of community derived within farming villages and among farmers as they shared their agricultural craft and knowledge. Our forefathers were simpler people, both in practice and in deliberate application of scientific knowledge within farming, but I find that the virtues of which Jefferson spoke are alive and well among members of farming communities. Many of my own skills and knowledge in working with thoroughbreds and cows have been handed down to me by kindred farmers. It’s the way things are done.
    Of interest to me is the array of differences among how specific things are managed, such as the simple concept of providing hay to livestock. On some farms, hay is doled out along the ground, and in some cases large round hay bales are rolled out across fields, each a very natural way for livestock to eat. However, other farmers, concerned with controlling for loss and waste of hay, advocate for the use of round bale feeders to contain the hay during consumption by cows or horses. Such seemingly small preferences can in fact determine quite a few things that a farmer may later have to address. Rolling round bales along the ground can proliferate the spread of unwanted weeds in pastures come spring. Using round bale feeders considerably increases mud holes in pastures, especially during rainy seasons. What I have come to find works for me is to place the round bale feeders where the horses and cows are simultaneously fed and sheltered during the winter, which is in the run-in sheds, or under the awning of a barn. I am fortunate enough to have a farm that provides this option to me. I can control the proliferation of weeds, and the mud holes are almost nonexistent where the feeding of hay is established. But there are also times where I lay out the hay along fencing for horses to consume in the more natural manner. If done along a fence row, much of the time this area is persistently without grass anyway from being trod upon by the horses, thus limiting the spread of unwanted seed.
    Beyond the immediate, there are many issues to be addressed in farming – those central to the community and the larger population. A few of these issues include grass- versus grain-fed beef, ensuring that my racehorses have a home upon completion of their career, and of course, ensuring that I reciprocate the sharing of any knowledge I glean from my experiments and developing my own farming strategies. As an example, this past year I decided to wean my foals as naturally as possible, thus limiting the stress on the horses and their babies. On other farms, the babies are separated from their mothers at around five to six months of age, and the mothers are sedated to aid in the process and to make it less painful emotionally. On this farm, we found that providing a stress-free environment for weaning in fact extended the weaning process by only about two months as compared to induced weaning. The mares contributed to the weaning process as well. On my facebook page, I wrote:

There was nothing short of a miracle when Adam walked away from the herd and from her foal to join the farm nursery this morning. She’d been running with the herd for six months. She had no halter on and there was no lead rope between her and me, just communications with me as to her intentions. And nothing short of a miracle that the herd permitted her to do this without following. The horses always move together. Adam came down from the mountain on her own. Her foal stayed with the herd. On a normal day, separating them is difficult, making it difficult sometimes to feed, so reflecting back on the uniqueness of this morning was a moving experience for me as their guardian. I simply opened the gate to the barn and she entered for the first time, then walked to the nursery. Once in, the herd walked down the mountain to watch. It was hard not to assume that they didn't understand. I can only assume that they did.

Adam's weaning day

    And I had a second mare, Star, that needed to complete the weaning process. While I led Star to the nursery, her foal took off running to join the herd once she saw that her mother was no longer available. This took all of just a few minutes time. There was no obvious pining on the part of the foal for her mother, and no lengthy neighing between mom and baby. The foal simply understood she was to take her place among the herd.
    There are philosophical differences in how farmers carry out their day-to-day work. I have learned to listen to the logic behind each perspective and, ultimately, find my own way of doing things. And so I grow to become a better farmer, more thoroughly entrenched in what I do, how I do it, and why.

Copyright © 2015 by Bettina Sperry