Myth 2: Food is Cheap

I am saving diet myths until next week. Something else has come up. Early this morning our cow, Daisy Mae, had her first calf. It occurs to me. We have such easy access to food in our culture. We walk through aisles stocked to overflowing with boxes, packages, and bags, and end our journey with a swipe of a plastic card, not knowing, really, where our food comes from, what goes into its making, or what it costs.

Yet if it is true that food plus desire equals the pleasure of enough, then part of what yields pleasure is the sense of value. We desire what we value. We value what we desire. Even when we get the thrill of a deal it is because we get more than we paid for. And when we convince ourselves that food is cheap, easily available, and made for us, we rob ourselves of potential pleasure—the pleasure of desiring something of value.
*
My eyes open suddenly. I am very awake. The time is 1 AM, sooner that I was planning the first of my nightly visits to our pregnant cow, Daisy. I have been doing this for a week. Nothing has been happening. I checked on her 4 hours earlier. Nothing was happening then either. Even so, I know I have to go.

I pile on layers, grab a flashlight, and leave my four sleeping children to trudge through half-frozen mud to the barn. As the beam crosses through the darkness, I catch my breath—three faces, six eyes, the calf is here! I creep closer, touch its wet and chilly fur, and run back to the house to wake the kids. My partner Geoff left for Germany hours before and will not be back for a week.

The two oldest wake quickly. Jordan and Jessica, 12 and 10, dress and begin filling a large bucket of warm water for Daisy to drink. The two youngest, Kyra and Kai, 6 and 2, are not amused at being called to consciousness in the middle of a dark and frigid night. I coo and cajole them into their coats, send Jordan and Jessica out to dry the calf, and wait for the rest of the water to fill. If that calf is wet for too long, it doesn’t stand a chance in this cold. It is born, like all calves, with no immunities of its own. It needs its mother’s milk, and this calf has not had any yet. How long has it been there?

I scoop Kai in one arm and haul the bucket out the door with the other. Kyra reluctantly carries the flashlight and we plod our way back to the barn. Jordan and Jessica are hovering, wiping, drying. What is it? Bull or heifer? Do you know? Not yet.

I give the water to Daisy and beckon Jordan. Milking Daisy is a two person job. One holds the bucket and pulls on one teat. The other pulls on two teats, rotating to the third. As we get into a rhythm, Daisy lurches her knee forward, nearly knocking over the bucket. Jordan whisks it away, and sets it back in place. It is dark. There is no light in the barn. Kai is crying in loud and persistent protest against this bad dream. Daisy kicks over the dim bead of our battery powered lamp. Flashlight beams bounce across the hay.

With each pull and squeeze on the teat, a thin stream of milk shoots into the pail, sounding out with a firm zing. A dash of white, an arrow's shaft, and then another. Slowly the level in the bucket rises. Kai is crying, I pull him into my lap, still crouching in front of the cow, calming Kai, milking the cow. One inch, two inches. Okay enough to begin feeding the calf. Daisy is getting restless.

I shift Kai to my side, and he starts crying again. He never liked the dark. I pour the milk from the bucket into the calf bottle. This baby, that baby. Whose baby? I hand the bottle to Jordan and he begins to feed the calf. I check. It is a heifer. I feel the button nipples on her soft belly. I am so relieved. A bull would be “worth” nothing. It would be unlikely that we could keep him.

The calf is still shivering, even with a belly full of warm milk. I keep drying, rubbing, turning to hug Kai. Kyra is crying from the corner. She is cold and wants to go inside. I reach for the sweater we have collected for the calf and put it over the calf’s head. The ends of her long legs keep bending one way or another, slipping every which way but through the arm holes. Finally I get them through. She tries to stand and trips, tying her sleeves in knots. I try to roll them up, one is easy, the other trapped under her belly. I can’t move her.


Kyra’s protests ring in my ears. I turn to Jordan and Jessica and offer to go get more warm water for Daisy, so we can milk her some more. I take Kyra and Kai into the house. Kyra has only pajamas on her legs. We locate her snow pants. Kai starts undressing. No sweetie! We have to go back out!

We go back out, back to the barn, water swishing in the bucket, Kai sinking on my hip, Kyra, warmer. The kids are with the calf, Daisy is waiting. We place the bucket of water before her, and begin our double-team pull and squeeze. This is where all of our milk comes from I think. We make these creatures in to milk machines so that we can be life long nursers.

The bucket begins to fill again. Daisy’s hoof moves too quickly, the bucket tips and we lose some precious colostrum. We begin again. The level slinks higher, clinging to the side of the pail. We give the calf another quart.

It is becoming clear. It is too cold in here for the calf. For any of us. What are we going to do? We have to take her inside the house. But how?

I bend down to pick her up. My arms can’t reach around her. I stumble forward then stand awkwardly. Maybe. Kai wants me to carry him. I can’t carry both. Jordan will have to carry you, Kai. He cries. I put him down and try to pick up the calf again. I am not going to make it to the house. We have to find another way. What about a wheel barrow? Great idea. Jordan wheels it to the fence. I lift the calf and heave her 25 feet to the fence. I barely get her over. Kai is by my side. Jessica and Kyra are trying to console him.

The calf drops into the wheel barrow and begins to scramble. We hold it down. I get behind the handles and start to push. The calf launches herself into the air and the wheel barrow tumbles into the mud. We try again. Jordan holds her legs. I hold her legs and he pushes. We make it to the house. Jordan helps me carry her up the stairs, into the laundry room. She tries to stand and her soft hooves splay left and right on the slippery wooden floor. More blankets, A rug.


We get her in, settle her down. She is still shivering. I help Kyra and Kai get undressed. They are awake now, and warm, and there is nothing more wonderful than the warm fuzzy creature before them. We surround her, petting her, warming her, comforting her, comforting ourselves. It is a miracle moment. All smiles.

I think of Daisy in the barn. Sorry Daisy. But this is your baby’s only chance. Hang in there.

So what is a glass of milk worth? That slab of cheese? That scoop of ice cream?

We are related by what we eat to all that is.

Action:

Here is one way to begin enhancing your sensory awareness of this fact, and the wisdom in your desires. It was described in the entries "Breathing to Move"--the cycle of breaths. It is an 8 minute audio version, accompanied by the music of Geoffrey Gee playing his virtual instrument, Plectrum.

Enjoy!

Click here: Cycle of breaths