Scarcely a day has passed since yet another trek across Iowa has transpired. Bodily aches, cramps, and pains have vanished although joints, tendons, and ligaments have long memories and cringe at the very thought of the unpleasant experience. In spite of such physical tribulations, the previous journey was successfully completed as will any future voyages be it brief or arduous. However, being squeezed and pressed together like extracting olive oil from hardened seeds is implicitly connected to these three weeks along with all the other excursions and memories. Any personal space issues have been neatly resolved or, at least, compressed and excreted as sweat (hence it cannot be sold as ‘cold pressed’).  Digressions aside, the undercurrent of all these events is omnipresent yet is a mere wafting wind only seen when it moves a wind turbine: nonexistent but deeply significant: the interconnectedness of reality.

I’ll be honest, when I left home a little over two weeks ago I didn’t know what I thought about spending three weeks in Iowa learning about farming and agriculture. I grew up around livestock, so I have constantly heard about market prices, agricultural regulations, farm land, and challenges my parents face everyday dealing with their cattle businesses for as long as I can remember. Truthfully, I got tired of hearing all about cattle and the problems that came along with the business. By the time I hit 7th grade, I wished I lived in town and my parents had a normal nine to five job. I should have never complained considering cattle paid for me to attend private schools all my life and for my horse show life that entailed traveling over the United States.

As I started college, I had learned to accept that my parents were cattle brokers and I was thankful it paid for my college education, but I didn’t want anything to do with it. Since I was officially a young adult, my parents thought I was old enough to learn how the cattle business worked. My mom helped me get a beginners farmers loan from the FSA, so I could buy my own cattle, hoping that if I had my own cattle I would have more interest in it. I did start to learn how things the work, but unfortunately it didn’t increase my interest significantly.  I had in my mind that I wanted to be a lawyer, have a office, and live in town, perhaps on the water. In my head, there was no room for cattle in that equation.

Now as I sit in Iowa, after just finishing my sophomore year in college, I finally have realized farming isn’t so bad. Since I have been on this trip I have learned to appreciate the occupation and I realized how lucky I was to grow up understanding it. I am ready to really learn how to work and manage my cattle instead of running from it.  Most people have no idea where their food comes from nor do they understand how conventional farming works. I never realized how much I had picked up from my parents or learned from them over the years. I also worked so hard to block out what they taught me about farming that I had failed to realize how much knowledge I had actually picked up. I am now proud to say I grew up with an agricultural back ground, and I hope that I can make it a part of my future. I don’t want to be a full time cattle broke or farmer, but I would like to have some cows of my own that I keep on the farms that I will get to inherit from my parents. I also realize it may not be so bad to be a cell phone farmer and manage my farms by phone in my law office.

I’m not sure if it was seeing all the family farms here in Iowa and hearing their stories or learning about Dr. HN’s story that really made me realize I shouldn’t be running away from such a special occupation. I feel blessed to understand the business and have an opportunity to contribute something to it, even if it is not my full time job.

The students and I have seen an amazing diversity of farms since arriving in Iowa on May 9th.  Iowans have invited us to their operations whether large and small.  Even among the farms that the owners would classify as small, however, there is significant diversity.  As one farmer put it succinctly, “Put three farmers in a room and you’ll have three opinions about best practices, and none is better than the other.  It is what works for that farmer.”  There are some themes, however, that unite these farms–whether small, large, organic, conventional, livestock, row crops, or vegetables–all of them are under pressure to be profitable.  I don’t recall a single farmer who failed to discuss, in some fashion, the economics of the operation.  Profits go hand-in-hand with the decision to pursue a particular environmental practice or to pursue more time-consuming measures such as raising one’s chickens in a free-range environment; it also means, however, that some compromises will be made, the decision, for example, of two operations to raise free-range eggs that were not organic.  The price of organic feed raised the price point of profitability above that which could be commanded in the marketplace.  All farmers face challenges with the marketing of their products whether matching the demand for pork raised under Niman Ranch standards or watching the extraordinary volatility in the grain markets, a point underscored during our visit with Iowa Secretary of Agriculture Bill Northey.

All farmers that we’ve met with have discussed strategies to survive the extraordinary challenges of working in a sector in which the producers are very often the price takers rather than the price makers.  Many farmers have noted that farming is a gamble, but none so poignantly as Randy Knapp of Epworth who quipped that “He didn’t need to go to the casino because every day that he got up and walked to his dairy barn, it was a gamble.”

So why do it?  You can see it on the face of these folks–they absolutely love what they do, and they cannot imagine a life without their animals or land.  It may be a business, but at the end of the day, it is a way of life, one that all farm families see as ennobling.  Whatever their role in the food production system, they view their farms in transcendent terms.  And nearly all of those farms we have visited are thinking about ways to keep their children involved in farming, so that the family farm survives to another generation.

“Iowa (Traveling III)” by Dar Williams has always been one of my favorite songs, from the first time I heard it. Though it’s not all about traveling in Iowa, her haunting way of melodically moving through the chorus has been in the back of my mind pretty much ever since I got accepted into this trip.

I tried to keep my mind relatively clear of expectations before I embarked upon my three-week journey, and especially as much of our schedule was not confirmed until the last minute, it’s seemed, this was relatively easy to do.

We still have a few days of learning left, but we are nearing the end of our journey. Wednesday, everything will be over, and I will head back very temporarily to West Virginia before moving on to the next phase of my life as a Teach for America corps member.

I’m not one to generalize, but I have made the following conclusions about the people and places we’ve seen over the last 2 1/2 weeks:

1. Iowa is flat, but not as flat as you may think. Depending on where you are in the state, you might see flat plains for miles or even gently rolling hills. It’s sure not West Virginia, but it is pretty.

2. People tend to speak with a slight accent that I may only describe as “Iowan,” pronouncing words like drought and roots as “drowth” and “rutz.”

3. Iowans like to tell their stories.

4. Stop signs are optional. Gravel roads are common. It gets very dusty when it’s dry.

5. Iowa is WINDY, especially in the afternoons and in certain regions.

6. Iowa is the #1 producer of corn, soybeans, pork, and eggs. They are in the top 10 in cattle production.

I’ve learned much more than the above, mostly about agriculture, food, and production. However, this list of 5 is what I will take away from Iowa as a traveler.

Even with the hissing wind wafting a wonderfully familiar scent of swine, the dry spell continues much to the dismay of farmers who desperately need rain for a bountiful crop. Though there has been a consistent tapestry of clouds ranging from light and puffy to ominous and bleak, rain has not been successfully summoned. In spite of all the required elements: a thick, murky blob of cloud, persistent, bursting gales, a warm, sticky temperature, and, most importantly, dismayed farmers stirring up resentment at aspects beyond their control, an anticipated, biblical downpour has been elusive, charging speculators, agronomists, and, of course, farmers. Anxious is a simplification as conversations numbering the expected number of raindrops have began or at least referenced this lack of moisture. Despite human ability, nature is the blind arbiter of a successful yield even more so than the government, free market, or copious amounts of ammonia.

I have noticed that, on many of our visits to animal producers – whether they be farms or associations – people get very offended at the mention of a “factory farm.” However, they don’t quite deny the classification; they tend to attempt to distract from it with either a, “What is a factory farm?” or an “I work on this farm with my father and grandmother!” – something of that sort.

After being in Iowa for two weeks, I can see both sides of this issue. Of course, factory farms have been vilified in the media, made out to be heartless, reckless, unfeeling corporations that terrorize the market. I tend to have a bit of a different definition of a factory farm: I see a factory farm as, basically, an operation that produces a lot of meat – simply put, a CAFO (concentrated animal feeding operation), which is more based on size and practice than business status or employee relationships. The Friests’ hog operation is legally defined as a CAFO, even though only 3-4 family members do all of the work onsite. Anyway, I guess this perspective of mine causes me to be a bit taken aback by those who are offended at the mention of their operation as a factory farm.

My question is: why not explain the term rather than running from it? I’ve begun to understand that farmers, like any hardworking people, probably feel the need to defend time-honored and work-intensive practices that others tell them are wrong. However, I do not think that factory farms are inherently bad. They do not necessarily harm the animals or workers – though, of course, exceptions may always be found. Factory farms, or CAFOs, are simply one way of cheaply and efficiently producing a product that the American market demands. Maybe, if the media and the American people could all have an Iowa Farm May Experience, they would all understand. Since that is unlikely, it does seem that some sort of education is necessary, and the responsibility for such education falls, I believe, on the farmers. Americans seem to have a renewed interest in food these days – what it’s made of, where it comes from, who’s in charge of it – and I would predict (or at least hope) that they are willing to listen to a correction of misinformation.

Do I agree with the practices of factory farms? Nope. (See my previous post, “Factory farm?”, for a few brief reasons, or comment on this post for further dialogue.) I will always advocate for a more local and sustainable form of agriculture, but I don’t think that that gives me the right to tell someone else that their practice is flat-out wrong and should be abolished. As the conventional and organic farmers have both said: for now, there’s room for everything in our market, and people deserve a choice. I don’t think that it’s a prudent one, but, in the meantime, CAFOs are providing livelihoods for many, like our dear friends, the Friests, and that’s valuable.

“All natural,” “organic,” “vegetarian,” “vegan,” “locavore.” If you are a concerned eater like me, you’ve likely heard all of these terms – and more – in relation to what foods you “should” be eating. But what does it all mean?

In my two weeks of experiencing Iowa farmers, I’ve found a great lack of knowledge regarding these terms – ironic, considering that they’re the ones, for the most part, producing the above-mentioned food! There seem to be some misconceptions about some of these words, while many people are completely unfamiliar with others. My vegetarianism has fascinated 8/10 people I meet – and the other 2 have usually been, to pardon my sexist expression, the odd men out. If you’d like to discuss my myriad reasons for going veg, I’m pretty much an open book, but that’s not the point of this blog post. I’m not out to “convert” anyone, but I will talk if you’ll listen.

Anyway, being vegetarian means that I consume egg and dairy products, but no meat or fish. I take it pretty strictly, limiting even meat products and byproducts in my food such as gelatin or disodium inosinate & disodium guanylate (dried fish – look it up). If I were vegan, I would consume no animal products or byproducts of any kind, including eggs, butter, leather, etc. Side note/fun fact: a “pescetarian” is a vegetarian who consumes fish.

As Morgan touched on in her earlier post, the term “organic” has a somewhat misunderstood and very nuanced, complicated technical meaning. Regulations for becoming nationally certified are actually quite strict, as we learned from Roger Knutson at breakfast bright and early Monday morning, when he showed us his yearly paperwork. However, organic does not guarantee that no pesticides were used or even that food is healthy. No definitive studies have shown that organic foods are better (or worse) for you than those that are traditionally grown. That being said, one can be pretty confident that they are going to be better for the environment and the farmer (because pesticides that may be used are natural), so I would recommend it.

Which brings me to the next topic: labeling foods as “all-natural.” It’s so frustrating to see that on foods from ketchup to apples. What does it MEAN? Well, truthfully, nothing. There’s no USDA regulation regarding this label, so pretty much anyone can slap it on their product, so long as it’s not blatant false advertising. For me, it’s a good tip-off that I might want to read a food label to investigate further (which, being vegetarian, a concerned citizen, and nutritionally minded, I generally do first, anyway). “All-natural” foods may be minimally processed, healthier options; but, as I said, take that designation with a grain of salt.

The last word that I mentioned above is “locavore.” I would bet that, out of the five terms I listed, this is probably the least familiar to everyone. Recent studies HAVE proven that eating fresh, local food is better for you and the environment, because fresh and local foods tend to retain more nutrients and cut down on transportation emissions. Keeping foods fresh and local often ties in with things like vegetarianism and a preference for organic foods, because often, local, fresh foods are minimally processed, too. A locavore is one who engages in the local food movement, trying to eat as many locally-sourced foods as possible. Commonly found at a farmers’ market, the locavore is, in short, my hero.

I’ve included some pictures of the Des Moines Farmers’ Market, which we visited Saturday morning (what great fun!) in our own attempts to be locavores. We were each given a budget and told to get something healthful to prepare for the group. I purchased, among other things, a small bunch of kale, and this afternoon, I prepared it with mushrooms, onion, garlic, and herbs for lunch! Served over rice, it was scrumptious, if I do say so, myself.

I hope this post clears up some myths or questions for everyone – in Iowa and beyond. If you have any questions or qualms, please comment – I’d love to engage in a dialogue!

Katie Jo wrote recently about life and death on the farm – I would like to take this opportunity to inform everyone about just the life side, as we witnessed Sunday night.

The Friests’ trusted 4-year-old Golden Retriever, Paige, had 10 Golden Doodle puppies! She had obviously been very pregnant since we met her, and she was scheduled to have the pups before we concluded our time here; so, of course, we had to see them. The Friests called us just as we were finishing dinner on Sunday to report the good news, so we drove down to see all 10 of the adorable puppies (3 girls and 7 boys, if I remember correctly) and their calm, poised, tired mama.

Paige is so small; I don’t even understand how 10 living creatures came out of her! She was so patient with all of her pups, licking and moving them to make sure that they all got food, warmth, and equal love. She had one similar litter two years ago, and her instinctual skills are apparently unforgettable.

Speaking of instinct – why is it that dogs have such large litters compared to humans? Are they in danger of extinction? Unless I’m grossly under-informed, there’s not a high risk of puppy death. And why do puppies become self-sufficient in a matter of weeks, while humans can take 18 years or more?

For those of you who don’t know, in the past 3 weeks, I’ve graduated, celebrated my 22nd birthday, and been provisionally hired for a real, live teaching position in Texas. I don’t really feel any older; perhaps because of the quickness of it all, I am just trying to take things as they come, one day at a time. It’s finally beginning to hit that I am moving out of my parents’ house – for real this time, and not just to take a multi-state journey to Furman’s campus that will eventually lead me home again. I feel no more independent now than I did when I left for college, but when I begin to think about it, I’ve learned a lot over the last four weeks – academically, socially, you name it.

Puppies don’t go to college. (But they do go to pre-school…at least, my puppy did, when I was seven or eight. She was trained how to heel, stay, lie down, etc. before her symbolic graduation.) And yet, they instinctually know how to survive – and not only survive, but thrive, bringing 8-12 offspring into the world each breeding! I’ve always been amazed by dog instincts, as I grew up being very close to my two Goldens in succession – their ability to sleep with one eye open (or one of two eyelid layers open, rather); their keen smell; their uncanny sense of the master’s mood; their yearning to be in a pack, in a safe and secure area, or just around their “people” – do humans have these instincts? We are completely helpless for at least a few months, needing our parents or other caretakers not only to feed us but to transport us and teach us everything we will know. Our parents can’t even really understand us – do dog moms understand puppy whines? I digress. How do animals get away with existing as “mini-adults” so soon, while humans need to be catered to? Who’s getting the better deal, anyway?

We started our day bright and early this morning at the Tjelmeland Farm in Story County, just about 15 minutes down the road. We’ve been eating their eggs for weeks now (courtesy of Wheatsfield Co-op), and we set out to find their origin.  It was wonderful! Honestly, I was not too enthused this morning, when I had to get up early and leave without breakfast (we were scheduled to eat with them.) However, this morning’s visit was definitely one of my favorite thus far.

We started out doing chicken chores with Connie. I have always been pretty uneasy around birds, for various reasons, so it was a bit overwhelming to arrive bleary-eyed and step right into the free range area, surrounded by over 700 hungry and growing chicks. We moved the feeders (they rotate them every day), fed them, and changed the water and cleaned their containers. Then, we got a tour of the rest of the coop area, which included the roosts, laying boxes, hospital area, and the bigger hens and their pasture area. Connie also showed us her small, organic garden of squash and cucumbers, and we got to see the wind break that had been planted in the 1970s – and after standing up by the house in the heavy wind in the cool morning air, that was a welcome relief! We also went out to the grazing area for the larger hens, where we were introduced to Clover, the GUARD LLAMA, his friend, Daisy, the goat, and Rosie, the guard donkey. (Yes, it was as comical as it sounds. We all kept our distance to avoid being spit on.)

Next, we went back to the nesting areas to collect eggs with Mark. I was amazed at both the sheer number of eggs available (we couldn’t even fit them all in our 3 baskets!) and the docility of the chickens. As I said, birds freak me out a little bit, so I was timid when it came to reaching into the occupied boxes to get eggs. However, the hens were very accommodating, lifting up to allow us access to the 2-7 eggs beneath them. Mark explained that it was normal to have so many eggs, and he would have to go out midday to collect those eggs that didn’t fit in our overflowing baskets as well as the ones from the late layers. He took us down to the basement, where they process the eggs: this consists of cleaning, candling, and boxing them.

We then shared a breakfast with extended family and neighbors of scrambled eggs, local sharp cheddar cheese, pork sausage, orange juice, canned pears from their trees, and homemade blueberry muffins. Delicious! I also loved sitting around the big farmhouse table and getting to know everyone.

The last bit of our visit consisted of Mark taking us around to show us the conservation measures put into practice around the organic farm, where they raise soybeans, oats, and more. They had plenty of CRP acres and quite a bit of planted native prairie, as well as the aforementioned wind break. We rode in the back of Mark’s truck as he showed us his various fields and plants.

Connie, Dr. HN, and I got into a bit of a discussion at the conclusion of our tour on GMOs and organic farming. Legitimate points were raised then and also at breakfast, including the fact that conventional farming is expensive; requiring it or even subsidizing it imposes this form of agriculture on other peoples and cultures around the world; and that crops used to grow just fine on their own, without human intervention.

Bobby the dog accompanied us from place to place all morning and enjoyed plentiful pats from us all. I forgot to take my camera in my lack of alertness this morning, so all of the pictures in this post are from Sam.