Asides

I was impressed with David Kline when he was explaining the dietary advantages that came with his lifestyle.  He eats a healthy organic diet which is awesome.  I have no idea where most of my food comes from.  I have to imagine eating food that you have raised and know is healthy and not covered in chemicals must be rewarding.  I was also impressed with the strong immune systems he explained the Amish have.  I wanted to try some of the milk he was talking that the man he let try some said tasted like liquid ice cream.  I enjoyed hearing him explain how tightly knit his community was.  I think that this can be beneficial in many ways and can help one live a long happy life.

I enjoyed reading and discussing the Sassafras chapter.  He describes his methods by saying “sassafras prepared in this manner is far superior to the chopped whole root that most herbal supply places offer.”  I certainly believe him.  One day I would at least like to have my own garden to supply myself with some home grown vegetables.

Visiting David Kline’s farm, the most interesting aspect to me was the cow barn. More specifically, it was the interaction between the cows outside and the calves inside. Every couple of minute, a calf would call out and a cow outside would respond, as if they were holding a conversation. I wonder if the cow that was answering was the calf’s mother. Would cows be able to tell the voice of their baby from the voice of other calves? I would think so, cows are mammals after all and thus they bond and care for their offspring. Whilst it is reassuring to know that these cows that seem so intelligent live on a farm with plenty of room to roam and are treated well, there are so many cows out there living in horribly cramped conditions where they may never see their babies after they are born. That makes me very sad. I wish all farms would be run more ethically. I understand that it is not abnormal for humans to eat animals for food but the least we could do is treat those animals with respect as living beings.

Because Ohio just experienced the first snowfall of the season just a couple of days ago, it seems appropriate to write about a Winter chapter. I really like Kline’s commentary on both farm and wild animals. He begins to chapter by discussing how he tries to let the animals graze outside for as long as possible during the month of November. This also helps his save on winter feed. Once the animals move inside, he feeds the horses first before moving on to feed the calves and cows. He even comments on the unpleasant smell in the barn where the animals are kept. This helps the reader to gain an idea of what being in the barn is like.

He then moves on to discuss wild animals. He starts first with smaller animals such as the woodchuck who makes his home near the fence. But Kline spends most of the chapter discussing different birds who visit him during the winter. He comments that the summer birds have all left for warmer climates while new birds such as juncos and sparrows begin to visit. It is always fun to read about the sounds different birds make. He does this in an entertaining way in describing the white-throated sparrow’s sound.

During our class visit to David Kline’s farm this past Monday, I was struck by the unusual relationship Kline had with his animals. Having relatives who had lived and worked on farms in the past, I had always been under the impression that animal farming (at least, for meat) was highly impersonal work because to name an animal that you intend to eat by-and-by is an easy way to break one’s own heart with every meal. However, the first notes to the contrary arose when Kline was explaining some of the basics of dairy farming to us in a stable full of calves. One of the calves was extremely vocal, regularly lowing over Kline and interrupting him, and at first Kline did his best to ignore the calf. However, towards the end of our time in the stable, Kline actually turned and told the calf half-jokingly to be quiet. This surprised me; from what I knew of farming and from Kline’s stern writing voice, I had expected him to be much more removed from his animals.
This perception was further dismantled when, in the hay barn, I asked him about his relationship to his animals. His reply was more or less that the sense of distance is not between himself and his livestock, but between the sense of his livestock as beloved family members and as food. That is to say, when the animal is alive, he cherishes it, names it, and allows it to have a personality of its own, but once it dies, he does his best to forget the human traits he lent it as he eats. This reminded me of the tone of a lot of his nature writing; he often seems somewhat removed from non-human animals, reporting their actions frankly and without emotion (though not without a sense of beauty), but sometimes, such as early in “Winter Visitors,” he shows a bit of his love for them: “the cows, the gentle creatures, patiently wait until last, hardly uttering a sound.”
This face-to-face conversation with Kline was invaluable in allowing me to personally understand his work.

The chapter “Autumn Colors” provides a great in depth perspective of David Kline’s appreciation of fall and the ecosystem. Specifically, David Kline unloads his vast amounts of knowledge about the underlying causes of fall foliage, as well as highlighting how the change in seasons alters the ecosystem. He starts off by addressing the false belief that a “hard frost” is needed to change the colors of the trees. When in fact, a “hard frost” is very detrimental fall foliage. He then goes on to explain the real cause of fall foliage, which involves the days becoming shorter, resulting in trees “withdrawing sap” to their trunks and thus leaving the leaves out of circulation. This results in the green leaves fading into gold, yellow, and red colors.

After a detailed inspection of the leaves, Kline goes into the woods and inspects the fall atmosphere. Specifically, he finds a log to sit on and feels “the rhythm of the season”. First, he examines a predator prey relationship between a hawk and a squirrel, as well as a worker bee’s possible last flight before dying in the autumn cold. Ultimately, Kline shows the shifting tide of the fall season.

Overall, I connected with this chapter the most because I too am an avid lover of the fall season. Specifically, I like watching the leaves turn colors over the course of the month of October. For example, everyday while walking to class I would observe the leaves, much like Kline would, and watch the progress or “rhythm of the season” unfold.

The first thing that stood out to me upon our arrival to David Kline’s farm was the flock of guinea fowl roaming around the yard, cackling offendedly at the vans. As David Kline took us throughout the barn to the upper level and talked to us about the architecture of the old barn, all I could hear were random outcries from the guinea fowl, but I couldn’t actually see them (which was probably for the best because I find guinea fowl quite hilarious and if I were able to see them, I’m sure I would’ve not been able to focus on anything Mr. Kline was saying). When we stepped out of the barn and headed over to look at the corn silo-proving my previous statement to be true-it was all I could do to keep from laughing at these silly birds. They were all standing around casually eating things from off the ground, their heads bent and their bodies looking like claymated grey blobs. At times, one would shoot its head into the air, cluck angrily, and then take off running, its body bouncing along comically atop its skinny legs. All the rest would follow, so the entire flock moved as a singular unit with a singular goal that none of them was quite fully aware of I’m sure. In a way, these series of actions reminded me of a group of people who will also do whatever their social group does, just to be a part of the group.

I’m sure to the guinea fowl, we seemed like a pretty strange group ourselves in our jackets and scarves and hats.

After visiting David Kline’s farm, I was struck by his fierce defense of insects. As memory serves, he defended insects, bemoaning their near extinction almost as many times as he did the greater dairy farming business. Although this could just be indicative his train of thought on the particular day that we visited, I would argue that David Kline’s interest in insects shows through in Great Possessions. Among other insect-centered chapters, Kline wrote a chapter named “The World of Insects”, a collection of short descriptive narratives highlighting various insects he has witnessed on his farm and throughout his community. He writes fondly about these strange, small creatures. My entire life I’ve only ever heard farmers and gardeners complain about insects bothering animals and eating crops, with exception to the bees and earthworms that so obviously improve crop growth. Some farmers defend spiders as a countermeasure against mosquitos. Still, the little creatures like the praying mantis of katydid don’t usually get the attention they deserve.

I have always been of the mind that there’s no such thing as ethical slaughter. Being a vegetarian and on-and-off vegan for the past 6 years, my philosophy concerning animals and the consumption of meat has been refined by massive amounts of research, moral challenges from family members, and a religious conversion. All of these things have led me to be of the mindset that it is unethical to kill and eat animals so long as a person can survive without doing so (this is a key element, there must be exceptions for those who consume animal flesh for survival.) However, meeting with David Klines on Monday has challenged my perspective. Here I met an individual who does not keep animals; he cares for them and tends to their needs. He talked at length about how every animal has a name, every animal’s personality is recognized, and when they pass he mourns for them, even if they end up on his dinner plate. David Klines introduced an aspect of farming that had never occurred in any of my research; love and empathy for the animals he works with.
This revelation has not made any drastic changes in my philosophy yet, but has made me begin to think. If I were to have a meal with David Klines prepared by his wife and made with the things only produced on the farm, I still do not think I myself would eat the meat, but I do think I would be entirely comfortable, accepting, and perhaps even appreciative of everyone else at the table who did. Have I discovered a form of humane slaughter, something I previously thought was an entirely contradictory statement in and of itself? I’m not sure, but it has opened my viewpoint to consider an entire group of people who often go unrecognized in this context because they are so overshadowed by the industrial farms of our modern day; the small, family- oriented, organic farmers such as Klines.
While I have always been an advocate for the revival of small farms and the destruction of industrial ones, with it coming the restructuring of government agricultural subsidies, I had always regarded this topic in the context of specialty crops (fruits and vegetables) and never in the context of animal products. My interaction with Klines on his farm has definitely given me food for thought.

After the visit to David Kline’s farm, I find that I was able to obtain a better understanding of Amish life. The large swaths of land owned by a small yet independent farming community brings a new meaning to self sustainability. The animals that belong on these farms range from guinea fowl and dogs to rowdy stallions and hulking cows. The utility of these animals are not forgotten, as they play a role on the farm just like any other animal, however the cows are especially important in supplying stable income.  During my visit, I counted at least fifteen cows on the farm alone, without putting too much thought into it. David explained the use of his farm animals and the struggle to not get attached too much to these animals. The burden of caring for the farm animals are not without a few exceptions, where some attachments can still be made. An example of this would be of a cow named “Panda” who was respectfully buried after the time of her passing. The avoidance to the mass humanization of the animal life is detrimental in order to not suffer constant loss and be in a state of perpetual mourning. This is the conclusion that I came to, in regards to how this thought is present in some Amish communities. Regardless, the life on the Amish farm was interesting to observe and to hear about the connection between man and animal brings a form of sympathy for any who may choose that form of lifestyle.