Through the Window

Excuse the messy porch . . . long winter without a garage.

Goats are looking in my window. Where are you, Mom? is obviously what they're wondering. y poor little Nigerians have attached to me as their herd leader and follow every step I make throughout the day; oddly, though, they haven't warmed up to me very much yet. They let me pet them for a few seconds before moving away. I think they're still nervous from their move, especially because our property is much more open than their previous home which I'm sure is intimidating for them.

My twice-daily milking routine is really bringing home the extent that most Americans (myself included) take food for granted. As I asked Kenny last night, "Is that right?" As an eater, shouldn't every single person take some measure of responsibility in bringing food to the table? What right have we to burden a few of our citizens with the monumental daily enormity of raising animals and producing safe food while we complain about costs? I'm sorry, but YOU get up before dawn every day of the year, work past sunset, feel the emotional drain of the connection to these animals that might one day be food, nurse them when they are ill, and miss days time with the family. There is no day off. Even for me, there is the slight feeling that I don't have to do this. I can just go back to buying milk like most people . . . but, I know this is right. We choose to do it, yes, but we do it not only for us but also for you, for the shaky future of the food supply.

So tonight I'll put the goats to bed with some hay and fresh water. I'll count all the chickens before locking them safely in their coop. And I'll sleep well because I'll know I'm trying to make the world a better place by changing where my food comes from.