A Quiet Christmas

I awoke to the soft sound of a gentle rain falling against the windowsill.  It was my first day back home on our family farm after another semester at Kansas State University.  I eventually looked over at the clock, and after blinking twice noticed it was already 8:30 in the morning.  I nearly leapt out of bed to get dressed to help feed the animals before church.  But before I did, I noticed something. Other than the soft rain, the farm was quiet. 

As my brain resumed functioning, I remembered the decision our family had made to sell our livestock before winter hit.  Outside, only a single barn cat roamed the corrals once home to 80 meat goats and about a dozen cattle. 

This decision didn’t just come about overnight, but had been considered for a number of years.  The primary driver of selling our livestock was our small family farm did not produce enough to be profitable with the amount of labor it required.  As my older brother and I moved off to school, the brunt of the farm labor fell upon my mother, who put in hours a day taking care of the livestock.  During high demand times like kidding and calving seasons, the required work hours increased drastically.  In comparison with the earnings my mother could make working an hourly, entry-level position, running the family farm became unprofitable. 

 

I know this story isn’t just specific to us, but has been shared by thousands of small family farmers throughout the US in the past century.  Ever since the industrialization era, men and women have left the farm to find jobs and different lives in our quickly expanding cities.  Just as it was in the early 1900s, farming and ranching both produce commodities subject to the large variations of market prices.  A bad year in the market with low prices can do great damage to an agricultural producer, and if they do not have enough resources to last through hard times, they may have to sell out or face defaulting on loans. 

Because of these factors, relying solely on a system of small family farms to provide our entire nation’s food supply is unrealistic.  I am a full supporter of family farms, as they have provided me with great experiences that I will never forget and hope to provide for my own children someday.  As well, it is hard to beat fresh sweet corn picked from our own garden or a local farmers market.  But the belief that our entire food supply can be produced entirely by small, local farmers is unrealistic economically, unless America is willing to pay substantially more for their food.  Because larger farming operations are also great stewards of the land, I am a full supporter of them.  Larger farms have the resources necessary to survive market fluctuations and produce safe, plentiful, and inexpensive products raised as efficiently as possible.  There is room for all types of agricultural production systems in America, but we need to get over some of the economic fantasies presented in the media.

This Christmas, I did not have to run outside after a big Christmas dinner to feed our livestock in the cold.  I was missing the animals a little bit, but know that there are others that made the sacrifices to provide all the fixings for our Holiday celebration. 

Cheers,

Kyle Apley

There Are No Snow Days in Agriculture

Let me start by saying that I am no fan of cold weather.  Absolutely hate it.  As icy and cold as it’s been across our state lately, I’ve been thinking about how especially thankful I am for farmers and ranchers that brave the elements to take care of their animals and the land.

Growing up with a dad who managed a large cattle feedlot, I learned early on that a change in weather could flip our family’s life upside down.  The worst such occasion was a horrible ice storm that crippled southwest Kansas in late December 2006 and January 2007.  My family had just gotten to Texas to visit my grandparents after Christmas when Dad got a phone call that the weather was getting a little western.  So we turned around and sped the entire ten hours home, only pit stopping in Oklahoma City to buy a few electric generators.

We arrived back in Garden City to find the roads completely iced, powerlines and trees down, and snow and ice everywhere.  Before it was all said and done, we ended up with three inches of rain, topped with over four inches of ice and some snow on top of that.  To be frank, it was my dad’s (and every farmer or rancher’s) personal version of hell on earth. 

Over the course of the next few weeks, I rarely, if ever, saw my dad.  He and the feedlot crew were working around the clock, 24/7.  As you can see in these photos, machinery was constantly running to clear snow and slop out and dump sand in pens.  The cattle still had to be fed, so alleys, roads, and bunks (what cattle eat out of) had to be shoveled and cleared so feed trucks could get the feed where it needed to go.  On top of that, power was out so they ran the office and the mill off of generators for seven days.

The feedyard employees are using equipment to clear mud out

of the pens and haul in sand to keep the cattle comfortable.

At Garden City Feed Yard the goal always, and especially during those times, was to keep cattle comfortable and take the absolute best care of them as possible.  That’s exactly what they did.  Were they able to make the conditions ideal?  Absolutely not.  Were the cattle feeling like they were living in paradise?  They sure weren’t.  But how would the cattle have fared without their human caretakers?  If they could, I’m sure that the cattle would have said “thank you” to the guys for caring about their wellbeing. 

There are no “snow days” when you are caring for other living creatures—these guys sacrificed time with their families, warmth, and often sleeping in their own beds to do their part.  That’s just how it works in this industry.  Putting your animals ahead of almost everything is simply a way of life.  The next time I feel myself getting ready to complain about how much I despise how cold it is, I’m going to stop myself and remember how thankful I am that farmers and ranchers, like my dad, are toughing it out so that I can have something on my plate to eat.  I hope you will remember that too.

Thanks for reading,

Lindy

At the End of the Day, It's All About the People

This past weekend I took a vacation from school. Not to some exotic location with warm sandy beaches but to a place I can call home in Southwest Iowa, 4K Farms. Being an Oregon native, going to school in Kansas can be difficult at times since I don’t get to go home as often as I’d like.  However, the generosity and hospitality of the Swanson family has become one of the things that keeps me in the Midwest. That and the pigs. This Saturday was filled with pigs, puppies, and time spent with lots of good people. 


Max feeding a boar a Gatorade

When I hopped in the farm truck on Saturday morning, I knew it would be a long day of work. As Drake, the neighbor farm help, and I started in the farrowing house (where the sows and piglets are), we fed the sows and checked on the babies while carrying on a conversation on how his high school football season went. We continued from barn to barn, to the Double L nursery where we found a sick pig that would need treated. Part of being an excellent caretaker of livestock involves spotting out the animals that aren’t acting “normal” and nursing them back to good health.

I then got to climb from pen to pen with Kirk (my Iowa dad), his friend from Missouri, Jesse, and Jesse’s five-year old son, Max. We spent this time looking at the young pigs, sorting through gilts and sows, and discussing pedigrees with genetic lines that go back to the early nineties. While many people would think that sounds crazy, standing there listening to the conversations taking place, I got to see two individuals talk with passion in their eyes about the swine industry and ways to help it progress. Even little Max was in on it. He came walking over to us after looking at the pens and pens of boars to say “Kirk, you have some very impressive boars.” I just smiled and laughed, thinking that the ordinary 5-year old probably doesn’t talk about boars everyday. 

It takes many moving parts to get the best picture

The main task of the day was to take pictures of some of the elite breeding stock on the farm.  We would wash the pigs and then take them to a big grassy area to capture the perfect shot. It takes a lot of patience, creativity and perfect timing to get those photos, but the end result is highly satisfying. Several hours and over 400 photos later, it was time to call it a day for the pig photo shoot.

As the sun began to set on Saturday evening, Jerra (my Iowa mom) and I worked on feeding the pigs their second meal of the day while the boys snuck in one last picture of a boar before the sun was all the way gone.  After finishing up the evening chores, we gathered in the kitchen where Jerra had whipped up my favorite lasagna and cherry pie. Exhausted from a long day at the farm, and full from supper, we all talked late into the night about hogs, dogs and the livestock industry. One quote that resonated with me came from a conversation Kirk had had a few years back with another swine enthusiast. He said “When leaders begin to follow, the breed will fail to progress.” I think that line is one that could be taken and applied to many different aspects of life.



Kirk feeding sows at the bunk

Sunday I rode around in the farm truck with Kirk to work on morning chores before I headed back to Manhattan. The life conversations in between bedding down pens and vaccinating piglets are when some of the most valuable advice is given.

As I sit on here on Monday back at school and reflecting on the weekend, I can’t help but realize I have been blessed to have the weekend I did. It’s not very often that you find a warm sunny Iowa day in mid November, with views of harvested corn fields, all while being surrounded by people that share the same passion as you. A wise person once told me “Don’t let school get in the way of your education.” I didn’t know what that meant at the time it was said to me, but after this weekend I finally do. The classroom is a valuable place to pick up facts, but it’s the unscripted days that I have spent in Iowa outside the walls of a classroom that I have learned the most.  At the end of the day, agriculture is a way of life, and it’s the people that make it worthwhile.

Until next time,
Kiah