Fair Trade

Raise your hand if you've heard of "alternative gift giving". Good.

Ok. Raise your hand if you've "bought an animal" from Heifer International for Christmas? Really? That's all? Selfish.

I don't know the history of the alternative gift giving buzz, but it seems to have really taken hold in the past few years, probably in response to the Christmas commercial buzz. You know, instead of joining the Tickle-Me-Elmo herds on Black Friday, you give money to a non-profit and help a needy family for Christmas and get a few star stickers on your karma chart. It's definitely more in tune with the Baby Jesus spirit that flies around during the season.

This past weekend, we had our own alternative gift market on the farm. The Celebration of Living Gifts we called it. People came to the farm, looked at goats and water buffalo, and symbolically bought animals. We raised about $6,700 in animal gifts.

It's a happy thing for the world that alternative gifts are becoming popular. Heifer definitely benefits from the alternative gift rage (the majority of your fundraising occurs between November and December).

However, this Christmas season, I had a bit of a dilemma, as I stood in the Overlook gift shop, wondering what to buy. Ought I buy a few symbolic animals for my family? Support Heifer and give everyone little cards that read, "You bought a goat!" Or, ought I buy Fair Trade gifts? Giving to non-profits and charities is great. But, truth be told, Fair Trade has a more direct impact (http://www.fairtradefederation.org/). The money for a goat share goes through Heifer, then to a country project in, say, China, and finally to buying a goat or bees or medicine. But, if you buy, for example, a Fair Trade scarf, the majority of that money goes to the person who made the scarf, and, guess what, that person is probably impoverished but picking herself up by building a business. Eventually, if organizations like Heifer are successful, there will be no alternative gifts, just fair trade. Eventually, every needy person should be able to support his or herself without help from non-profits. Buying a lot of Fair Trade helps move everyone in that direction.

I have doubts as to whether that will ever happen, and in the meantime, organizations like Heifer still need support. So, hey, go either way this year. Just make sure you get those gold stars on your karma chart.

Northern Exposure

Holy Hell. I just saw more snow fall in 12 hours than I have ever seen in my life. Something like 10 inches between 4:30 this morning and 10 o'clock this morning. In December. Do you realize how weird this is for me?

Woke up this morning and walked outside to go get coffee, only to be greeted by a world totally covered in snow. I sunk my foot into it, and it swallowed my ankle. Dry powdery snow, untouched by anyone except me. Not being able to control myself, I let forth a really loud, somewhat creepy laugh and started kicking snow everywhere. The whole world has changed. That's what a foot of snow feels like to me right now. Everything is new and different.

Especially doing chores. I had to take a five minute trudge down to Ghana to feed the two buck goats. They were huddled in their waddle shelter (it's plenty spacious. Don't worry), with a pile of snow on the roof, snow everywhere outside their shelter. Their water bowl was frozen over and topped off with another foot of snow. But, by the time I left, they had a pile of fresh, warm hay in their shelter, as well as fresh, not-frozen water, safe from the snowfall. They'll be OK.

Another new experience was shoveling snow. Apparently, you have to do that up here a lot, or else you get veritable Great Walls of Snow that are totally impenetrable. That was exhausting, but probably new enough to still be a good time.

The highlight for my first big snow day has been moving the cows. We figured it might be about time (or way past time) to get those poor ladies out of the pasture. So, we led them 1/4 of a mile through deep snow. Imagine watching a herd of big cows plowing through pure white snow, right towards you. It's majestic/scary. But, once again, they are now well taken care of. Now, sitting in front of a fire. People are making pumpkin stew, and my clothes are in the dryer. Sa-weet.

Morning Chores

Every morning on the farm kicks off with chores. By now, it has settled into my daily routine. I barely notice it anymore. But, really, it's pretty bizarre and entertaining on most mornings. Thought I'd share a glimpse into my world every morning.

8:15 a.m., random morning: I am by the red barn with two paint buckets, filling them up the water to give to the buck goats and rams who have, once again, knocked over their water/polluted it with something ungodly. Across the way, a few volunteers are milling out of the hay barn, aka: chore central, grabbing wheel barrows, throwing hay into them, swinging buckets of feed. Two little dwarf goats named Ren and Stimpy run by, because they never stay in their pen, chasing Maggie with a bucket of swine grain. In a few minutes, Maggie will be trying to water the pigs and simultaneously throwing Ren and Stimpy out of the feed bucket over and over again. Those two live off of every other animal's food.

Off down the dirt path, Nic is pulling Henry, our spastic buck goat, on a leash, because Henry has escaped from his pen for the second time that morning. In a few minutes, Henry will escape again. Ashley rambles by on the big tractor, earphones in place, happily nodding her head to music, on her way to move the cows' water. Jen comes around the corner of the barn, leading Abu, our giant camel, on a leash. He's being slightly obedient, which is better than most days, but making very deep grumbling sounds that surface as camel burps. Pretty soon, he will lie down and refuse to get up for five minutes.

Behind me, Sarah is happily bottle feeding Imou, our Randall Lineback calf. Out in the sack pad, Jason is surrounded by some sixty goats and sheep, who are all desperately trying to swallow the 50 lb. bag of sheep grain that he is attempting to open and put in the feeders, which would be easy to do if Artemis, a black goat, weren't punching her front legs into his stomach trying to get the feed. In a few minutes, Evander, our massive pony-sized ram, is going to butt me in the leg while I'm trying to retrieve his feed bucket. It is going to hurt like hell, and I'll have a bruise for weeks. After that, I am going to meet up with some of my fellow volunteers next to the coffee maker and badmouth Evander over a leisurely cup of coffee. Chores are over. It will be time to start the process all over again at 4:00.

Ok, not every morning is this crazy. Just most of them.