The Silo

Last Saturday was my first time up in the silo at my in-law’s dairy farm. The top layer had spoiled, so my father-in-law and I climbed up the ladder, pitchforks in hand to get rid of the spoilage. Fermented grass doesn’t smell all that wonderful, and the odor clings to your hair and clothing (I washed my hair three times that night and the smell still lingered). But the cows need to eat, so we did what we had to do. I’m not all that fond of heights, and after shoveling for over two hours, we had both slowed down so that the pitchforks were carrying less weight each time we threw the contents down the shaft. Stifled by the heat and steam erupting every time another forkful was lifted, even the air from the ladder shaft felt cool. I was petrified making my way down, pitchfork in hand – having to continually stop and lean back against the plastic casing because my legs were shaking so badly. Yet this was voluntary. We did what we had to do so the cows could eat this winter. And my father in law had to remain up there a good while longer adjusting the unloader. Yet, as we go though all the effort to care for these cows, at auction, we are lucky if they fetch $120. And that’s bought per pound. Justice is not for the farmer is seems. Hours of backbreaking labor, injury and risks; yet for working so hard, the price of milk keeps dropping. I suppose farming is a way of life as opposed to personal choice. So while this farmer (papa) gets two days off a month, and his wife needs to work full time to support the household, the corporations are making millions. While perhaps some would consider farm life harsh, do they consider what life is like for an animal used for corporate profit? Used for bodily products with little if any consideration to their health – bred without rest periods, milked to death, and finally ground up and fed to other cows (hoof and mouth disease). Unlike the small scale, where each cow receives individual attention, is looked over while being milked, having human contact, free grazing as long as possible and fed mostly products from the farm: hay and silage. And although the dogs enjoy herding the cows on occasion, the harshest treatment received by our hands is a sharp tap when they’re being stupid. So then why are the farmers being taxed off their land? We are only a decade at most away from that fate ourselves… How is that moral? Instead of grinding us down in the mud and manure, shouldn’t the state be helping us?