by Karrin Pearson
Howell Farm Intern
My mornings at Howell Farm begin with chores. Although that word may conjure up images of difficult and unpleasant tasks, I see my chores as delightful and meaningful work. One job in particular shines above the rest: shoveling manure.
I open the door to the ox barn, and am welcomed by Jake’s white horns lurching around the frame of his stall and his shiny dark eyes. Chris, the younger and larger of the two oxen, vocalizes his hunger with a droning moo. I quickly scoop their “cereal” into their bowls; Jake gets a full scoop but Chris only gets a handful. Next I hoist a quarter bale of hay over the railing on either side of the divider, ensuring that Chris won’t steal some of Jake’s needed nutrients. The quiet grinding of their large teeth begins and won’t stop for at least an hour or two. I leave them to their breakfast and turn to other tasks.
When I return to the ox barn, this time from the backside, I open the lower section of the door. The crisp morning light floods inside, brightening Chris and Jake’s dark hides, the yellow straw, and the dark manure that sits on top. As I step onto the cement floor, I inhale the unique combination of sweet dried grass and the earthy, moist, digested grass. Two faces of the same coin.
I’m fascinated by the fact that the ox pies that lie on the barn floor will someday help make food. And I play a key part in that process. By shoveling their manure and adding it to the ever-growing manure pile, I make the first step in recycling their waste into food. Actually, I shouldn’t refer to the oxen manure as waste, because it really isn’t — it’s farmer’s gold, a key ingredient for healthy soil and crops.
As I bend forward, pitchfork in hand, my muscles work to carry the heavy manure to the wheelbarrow. I deftly navigate the teeth beneath the pies, trying to leave as much dry straw behind as possible. (Bedding is a precious commodity at Howell Farm, so I must conserve.) The urine-drenched straw is equally valuable, so I slop it into the wheelbarrow. When full, I grip the handles and push the wheelbarrow to the manure pile and contribute the oxen’s daily offering.
Later today, or tomorrow, or perhaps next week, this same offering will fly in the sky as it’s flung out the backend of the manure spreader. It will make one victorious arch and then fall to its final resting place on the soil. With a farmer leading the way, Jake and Chris will pull the spreader back and forth across the field. Both farmer and oxen are physically active in their own food production, contracting muscles, sweating, and breathing quickly.
Farmer and oxen will team up again to sow their crops and then later to harvest them. They are linked in a symbiotic relationship. Together, with the help of the soil, man and animal work to grow food. As soon as the process is complete, the cycle begins anew, recycling the nutrients between the oxen, manure and crops.
I am grateful to be part of such an ancient and sustaining relationship.
Howell Farm Intern
My mornings at Howell Farm begin with chores. Although that word may conjure up images of difficult and unpleasant tasks, I see my chores as delightful and meaningful work. One job in particular shines above the rest: shoveling manure.
I open the door to the ox barn, and am welcomed by Jake’s white horns lurching around the frame of his stall and his shiny dark eyes. Chris, the younger and larger of the two oxen, vocalizes his hunger with a droning moo. I quickly scoop their “cereal” into their bowls; Jake gets a full scoop but Chris only gets a handful. Next I hoist a quarter bale of hay over the railing on either side of the divider, ensuring that Chris won’t steal some of Jake’s needed nutrients. The quiet grinding of their large teeth begins and won’t stop for at least an hour or two. I leave them to their breakfast and turn to other tasks.
When I return to the ox barn, this time from the backside, I open the lower section of the door. The crisp morning light floods inside, brightening Chris and Jake’s dark hides, the yellow straw, and the dark manure that sits on top. As I step onto the cement floor, I inhale the unique combination of sweet dried grass and the earthy, moist, digested grass. Two faces of the same coin.
I’m fascinated by the fact that the ox pies that lie on the barn floor will someday help make food. And I play a key part in that process. By shoveling their manure and adding it to the ever-growing manure pile, I make the first step in recycling their waste into food. Actually, I shouldn’t refer to the oxen manure as waste, because it really isn’t — it’s farmer’s gold, a key ingredient for healthy soil and crops.
As I bend forward, pitchfork in hand, my muscles work to carry the heavy manure to the wheelbarrow. I deftly navigate the teeth beneath the pies, trying to leave as much dry straw behind as possible. (Bedding is a precious commodity at Howell Farm, so I must conserve.) The urine-drenched straw is equally valuable, so I slop it into the wheelbarrow. When full, I grip the handles and push the wheelbarrow to the manure pile and contribute the oxen’s daily offering.
Later today, or tomorrow, or perhaps next week, this same offering will fly in the sky as it’s flung out the backend of the manure spreader. It will make one victorious arch and then fall to its final resting place on the soil. With a farmer leading the way, Jake and Chris will pull the spreader back and forth across the field. Both farmer and oxen are physically active in their own food production, contracting muscles, sweating, and breathing quickly.
Farmer and oxen will team up again to sow their crops and then later to harvest them. They are linked in a symbiotic relationship. Together, with the help of the soil, man and animal work to grow food. As soon as the process is complete, the cycle begins anew, recycling the nutrients between the oxen, manure and crops.
I am grateful to be part of such an ancient and sustaining relationship.
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