FAIRVIEW: The weight of the farm

By ANDY KEGLEY/Columnist

So, since pondering a couple weeks back about such abstractions as carbon footprints, the weight of carbon emissions into our atmosphere and the costs of carbon offsets, I’ve been thinking more about real weights, measures and costs.
I did this the other evening while bouncing around some pastures harrowing the accumulated cow pies. The tractor is slightly older than I am, both of us having just enjoyed another anniversary of aging. Too soon, I’ll be able to wear the same “golden jubilee” medallion as the little red belly tractor.
Back to the weight of the farm’s bio-mass. For instance, 8,195 pounds of calves rolled down the road the other day to the local livestock market special spring sale. They averaged 455 pounds each, typical for the fall-born calves that cattle buyers like to stock onto greening spring pastures.
In exchange for that 4.09 tons of livestock, the market buyer was kind enough to send me the equivalent of 2.3 tons worth of copper pennies, which I deposited in the bank via a nearly weightless paper transaction. (The Internet was most helpful in showing me how many pennies are in a pound or ton. A prize of 5 lb. homegrown, grass-fed hamburger is waiting to the first non-livestock market employee who comes closest to telling me what the dollar figure was on the market check. Give me a call!).
Those 18 calves didn’t receive much off-farm inputs—a couple of vaccination shots shortly after birth, an identifying ear tag, and what little bit of salt and mineral that young calves will consume over six months. They nursed their mothers and ate off the round bale hay that was delivered to them on a daily basis. Of course, a fair amount of petroleum went into the hay harvesting and feeding, as well into the cost of manufacturing the equipment in the first place.
Virtually all of the sustenance for these calves came from on the farm—a point of self-sufficiency that is the goal of most enterprises. We should end the feeding season any day now with hay in the barn, which to my way of thinking is actually better than money in the bank—though my mortgage lender might not agree. And as a fellow told me the other day, I haven’t made the first bale of hay yet this year.
Water, on the other hand, isn’t a commodity in quite the surplus as last year’s hay. Almost all the water imbibed by our cattle comes from deep wells, as we fenced off the open stream, springs and ponds several years back. I could (and probably will) go into much detail and theorizing on this later, but for now, my bank account of water is running low, pun intended. The persistence of this area’s drought is something taken for granted, and those who said that the early April showers were enough already need to think again before opening the spigot.
From the vantage point of the old tractor at sunset, I wondered what the weight of the farm would be, if I could hoist it up on some massive scale. Calves left, water and hay were consumed by the cattle, yes, some carbon was emitted into the atmosphere by those belching cattle, and manure was deposited on the ground. Cash came back through the mailbox on its way to the bank and bill payments. Now with spring, the bio-masses are greening up, grasses growing, leaves budding, and the farm’s footprint will grow heavy again. Copper for carbon though is the ultimate judge of its sustainability, and for the answer to that question, only time will tell.
Andy Kegley manages a non-profit community development agency, in addition to a non-profit family farm in the Fairview section of Wythe. Note: I’ve had several conversations with exceedingly nice employees of the Internal Revenue Service of late. In honor of the approaching tax day, and less they get the wrong impression should they ever be reading these words, I would like to clarify that our farm is not technically a “non profit” organization, it just seems that way.