“Avian flu spiking, taking out millions of holiday birds.” This was a headline last week on the Washington Post. It was followed by “Turkeys will cost more because 6 million of them died during the bird flu epidemic.” To my everlasting shame, at first glance, I laughed at the article. I texted the link to my husband and said, “I guess we do brisket this year.” And yet, in 2013, when an early blizzard killed 100,000 cattle in South Dakota, I didn’t laugh; I was sick. Farming is not for the faint of heart, and it is hardly a time to draw the lines that say, “you stay on your side, and I’ll stay in mine” – even in jest.
Inflation is undoubtedly a problem, and we feel the strain on our bank accounts, especially at the grocery store. This year, many farmers brought in the largest cash receipts they’ve ever had, and yet, most aren’t making any more money. I’m afraid that shoppers think that a higher number on the till means that farmers are raking it in. The historical cash receipts were quickly eaten up by the fuel and fertilizer bills.
As farmers, we aren’t just the producers, but we are also the consumers. Last month, my mom got a wild idea and suggested that the family buy a milk cow because the cost of dairy is astronomical. We live in the third-largest dairy state, and my husband has spent his career working mainly for dairies, but we are not dairy farmers, nor do we aspire to be such. Butter is up some 25%, and it occurs to a well-meaning consumer that buying a milk cow seems like a good alternative. It was part of my father-in-law's economy to have milk cows, and my husband says a gallon of milk could go up to $15 a gallon, and he’d still not consider a milk cow.
Turkey is up 23%, butter and flour are up 25%, vegetables and fruits are up nearly 10%, and eggs are up 32%. And still, I say thank a farmer as you share your gratitude around the table. They don’t need praise, but thanks are never not appreciated in a career that can feel underappreciated. I love my piece of agriculture and the lifestyle it brings: the newborn calves, and the smell of freshly cut hay, and yet, I’m glad for modern agriculture. I don’t have to “do it all” as my great-great-grandparents did. I’m a producer, but I’m also a consumer. Thank you to my fellow farmers out there who make it possible for me to have a full grocery cart – sans milk cow. And yes, I’ll be buying a turkey for Thanksgiving – just brisket on the side.
