Disconnected

A few months ago, I was heading out to the barn to collect eggs with my 5-year-old grandson and the pigs were actively engaged in “the process of conceiving piglets”. (Like seriously, they were very active and very engaged.) My grandson asked me what they were doing, and without hesitation I said, “they’re making piglets”.

“Really?” he asked, thinking I might be kidding.

“Yes, that’s how they do it.”

He watched for a couple minutes, asked his dad a couple questions - then we collected eggs and that was that. The idea of conception was planted, and he’ll fill in the blanks as he grows up.

Amazed at how easily and naturally that awkward conversation happened, I realized that up until a few generations ago, that is probably how most kids learned about the facts of life and death. Almost everyone either lived on a farm or spent time on the family farm in the country. They witnessed how animals were conceived, watched them born and saw first-hand how they lived and died. Now, it seems, the majority of people are completely disconnected from animals, farming and nature. Kids grow up eating “stuff” from grocery stores, wrapped in plastic, and raised somewhere else. The only connection they have to animals is with their overly domesticated pets and heavily curated social media posts.  Statistically speaking, each generation since World War 2 has moved further and further from any connection to farm life and spends more and more time indoors.

I went to a “walk-in” clinic recently because I had a bullseye rash from a tick bite, and I wanted to get tested for Lyme Disease. The doctor asked “Oh, have you been outside?”  Though I quickly recovered from the tick bite, I doubt I’ll ever recover from the realization that “Have you been outside?” is now a pertinent medical question. How did we morph into a species so cut off from the rest of our natural environment that we don’t even go outside?

My life is outside. I go out, 7 days a week, to take care of our animals shortly after sunrise and then check on them again in the evening. I also work outside all day as a carpenter (which is how I pay for the privilege of being a farmer). This summer has been brutally hot, and I’ve been working in the blazing sun. Our wool adorned sheep, however, are clearly much smarter than me. They spend the hottest parts of the day lying in the shade, or in the barn where it’s cool. They venture out into the pasture to graze mostly at night or when it’s raining. I have found working in the rain to be a pleasant respite from the suffocating heat, and our sheep seem equally content to get comfortably soaked.

Apparently though, a woman sitting in her airconditioned car, stuck in traffic alongside our pasture, thinks our sheep look uncared for in the rain. She has been calling incessantly and leaving unhinged messages with the police and at Hill-Stead. When she first called the police, an officer explained that the barn was open and that our sheep can get out of the rain if they want to, to which the woman responded, “but there is no one there to dry them off”. I can’t even fathom that level of disconnection from the weather, from farming, and from animals in general. We have had several days of rain this past week and the unhinged woman is getting louder and even more unhinged by the day. I do worry where this is headed.  I hope she finds a new crusade soon and leaves us all alone. I’d like to suggest that instead of making my life miserable she set her attention on even loftier goals – such as;

·       Providing reflective raingear for all deer born and currently living in the State of Connecticut.

·       Instituting legislation that would require homeowners to shovel paths in the snow for rabbits and their offspring.

·       And of course, she could raise money (and awareness) to provide much-needed fall protection harnesses for squirrels.

Or perhaps she should just get outside every once in a while and go for a walk. This gentle rain has really been kind of nice…