Harmony Part VI

What was left of the hive.

Minor injury in line of chicken duty.

They look cute, and might provide us with delicious protein, but they're blood-thirsty!

Milking the goats.

   For those concerned about the well-being of the yellow jackets, none appeared mortally harmed. Can't say the same for the hive, which was in the way of the planned fence line. Before my three week stay at Harmony was finished, Larry sought to have it completed-all eight, galvanized, welded wire metal rolls, each comprised of 165 ft in length and 6 ft in height-in order to provide the livestock with an upgraded, more voluminous, 660-sq feet grazing area. Tedious is hardly descriptive enough for a project so entirely time-consuming (to the point where it was difficult to find the time to catch up on other daily tasks), and the unpredictable with setbacks (which on many occasions required Carlos and/or myself to backtrack half the 40-acres to retrieve the necessary doohickey to fix said setback). When unaided by the opportune location of a Douglas Fir tree to staple to along the tree line encompassing about half of the planned area, we placed several metal 8-footer T-Posts every 5 to 10 feet or so to secure the wire fence.

   The work wasn't all a drag, however. Tearing out the completely rusted-over, partially entangled with brush and ground, old fencing discarded behind by the previous owners, was done by the efficacious, late 80's Ford 150 XLT and a solid chain hoist pulley. For someone that got by largely without the presence of my biological father and going to boarding academy for high school, I wasn't afforded the opportunity to play with 4 wheel drive man toys much. Until now. It was time to make up for lost time! Also, pounding away on the countless posts thru a suitable depth in the fairly dense topsoil, with a 14 lb steel driver, worked well enough as a workout in lieu of a gym membership. Regularly during the project, K103-Portland's Soft Rock would cloyingly seep from the truck's radio. One sunny afternoon, shortly after a lunchbreak, John Mellancamp's 'Small Town' snuck into the rotation. For the first time in my life, I didn't want to introduce the speakers to a Louisville Slugger out of my usual annoyance with the song. Call it idyllic! Something in me during those 4 minutes saw it's intended complementary value flitting with the pastural setting before my eyes.

  No longer provided the safety of an office cubicle, there were a couple of 'work-related injuries' inflicted on me. Ananda, the 700 pound +, full grown female cow, aimlessly stepped on my feet, on two separate occasions to complete the pair, while I guided her to the grazing area. The verdant grass at my side was perfectly too alluring to pass up for her. Perhaps wanting to additionally get on the action, a thrill-seeking chicken managed to escape one day during feeding and after I deftly grasped it's right leg with my ninja arm swoop, it managed to inflict a decently-sized scratch on my wrist with it's free hind claw.

   Larry obviously expected more out of the volunteer crew than the suggested 4 to 6 hour days, 5 days a week by WWOOF-USA. And the mucky living conditions certainly didn't make matters better. So what led me to stay in Buxton as long as I did?

   It helped that the Matthews and Carlos did their best to make me feel welcome. Anyone with a God-complex can be found guilty of negligence and being self-absorbed, but I never found Larry to be malicious. Besides providing a roof over my head and meals for three weeks, I was given the green to light to muster as much of the stacked pine wood pile as desired to place in the Van, which would come in handy for future camp stops. Plus, right before my departure, the mister and misses handed over 2 dozen eggs, and snacks to be enjoyed for the trip. Carlos showed his appreciation for my help, after an earlier discussion on favorite beers and a personal preference to spicy foods, by presenting me with tall boys of Dos Equis and his wife's, day fresh, made-from-scratch, mouth watering/firing salsa (diablo, muy bueno!).

   Part of my determination to stay was the challenge arising from the foreman initial prediction that I'd only last three or four days before packing, based on his past experiences with other volunteers. It definitely provoked a stronger work ethic in me.  Also, having the chance to work day in and day out with a migrant worker and hearing the argument from his end verses having to rely on opinionated, hotheaded hosts on 24/7 cycle news channels appealed to me.

   Most importantly, though, it was a persistently building desire to learn permaculture farming, keeping livestock, and living off the land in a sustainable way. Ideally, there won't any dependance on the heavily tax-subsidized, corporate, agribusiness model from my end later in life. To further my greener than green knowledge of farming, I came to the conclusion that an effective way to new skills is to learn from other's mistakes and/or carelessness, which Harmony had in abundance.

   Road Trip Tunes:
   Pearl Jam, 'Radio Free Germany’ (Immortality)
   Beastie Boys, ‘Ill Communication’ (Rickie's Theme)
   Jackson 5, 'Jacksons Story: Number 1's' (ABC)

   Elvis Costello, 'This Years Model' (Radio Radio)