Community Service Learning Reflections
As part of my Agroecology 260 course, I must spend at least 10 hours doing community service in a farm setting, and afterwards, write about that experience. As you may have noticed, I have not really been keeping up with this blog since I had news of Mom’s illness. I am so happy to post here for the first time in a long time, and though there will be no recipe with this entry, I promise to share an amazing pizza crust recipe VERY SOON.
I completed my community service in two countries; the first half in Canada, at UBC farm, the second in New Zealand at a farm in Whiteman’s Valley. The UBC Farm work was very glamorous. I unblocked a drain by the compost pile, and shovelled compost muck back onto the pile. Though dirty, this work is actually very important, and raises a couple of key issues. The composting system at the farm is open to the elements and is badly in need of a cover to keep rainwater from infiltrating the pile and washing all the nutrients away. The sludge I shovelled was a thick soup of nitrogen and anaerobic bacteria, important components of a working compost heap. The leaching of this good stuff is particularly frustrating as the compost heaps at UBC Farm are somewhat lacking in nitrogen (as a result of leaching and patchy fertility on the farm among other things). I was thinking, one way to overcome the cost barrier to sheltering the compost would be to have a design competition open to UBC students and get someone like Rona Revy to fund the materials. The competition could focus on sustainability, and could be used to enhance the profile of the farm.
My other task at UBC farm was to locate, repair, and set up the soil temperature and soil moisture sensing equipment. These activities were somewhat selfishly motivated as the equipment was used in another project I participated in. I repaired coyote damage to the wires, dusted off an old computer, and tested the sensors, all fairly solitary activities. The chance to work on my own and be outside was much appreciated as the school term was riddled with group work and I was exhausted by social contact at the time. Little did I know, an emergency brewing in New Zealand would pull me away and into a world of social isolation.
New Zealand is beautiful. Its beauty is not diminished by the sad nature of my visit. I came here to care for my mother who was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer in early April, and passed away on June 14th. My parents are very solitary people, and my life became a full time job of caring for my mom, grocery shopping, laundry, and meal preparation. My peers were nurses, my one companion was John the pharmacist.
John, as luck would have it, is also a farmer. He owns a farm, and is one half of a sharemilking operation, which has another John (who owns the herd) operating the farm while John the pharmacist doles out prescriptions to the good people of Upper Hutt. Sharemilking makes up 40% of the dairy operations here, with operations ranging from the 50/50 type as in the case of the two Johns, to operations were the landowner also owns the herd. New Zealand has a quota system similar to that of Canada, though the price per head seems to be quite a bit lower, and they do quite a bit of exporting.
The two most prominent breeds of cow here are Jersey and Holstien-Friesian. My dad says farmers are moving towards Holsteins for their production volume, much as Canadian farmers have done. The Johns are raising Jerseys. The bulk of the work I did that day was not work at all. Mostly we drove around on a quad checking fences, zipping up and down huge hills, completely unsafe, and thrilling, I was truly happy for the first time in a month. We saw pits in the pasture where wild boars had been rooting and wallowing, pukekos intermingling with the chicken flock, and silver-green vistas.
Most dairy cows in New Zealand are pasture fed, and I think that makes the milk taste different. I got to milk some cows in the parlour. The cows are herded onto a sort of carousel twice a day. By the time they make it the whole way around, they have been milked. I also got to bottle feed a Jersey calf. Funnily, I used a wine bottle with a big old rubber nipple on it. Some days I wish my wine bottle had a rubber nipple.
For me, the CSL was therapeutic. It was wonderful to get outside, to do work that took me out of my life. I felt afterward that my compassion (which was taking a beating from constant exercise) returned to me in a tangible way, like something clicking into place, or filling an empty slot. Part of my reason for getting a second degree was the realization that I wanted to sometimes/mostly be outdoors in my work, and to have a job where I could step outside of my usual position as customer service interface for an organization. I LOVED being at the farm. I secretly wish I could be a farmer.
I promised Noreenah a no-fail gingerbread recipe, so here we go. I would recommend using a standing or hand mixer if you have one for creaming, and for mixing in the dry ingredients. If you haven't one, use a whisk or a pastry blender when adding the dry ingredients. One very important note. It is crucial that the butter be at room temperature, creaming works so much better.
