Bullets & the farm

Bullet points I should say; not actual bullets.

• I went to Riverdale Farm on a whim yesterday afternoon after I finished busywork at college
• I've never seen Riverdale Farm so empty! There were a few poncho-clad farmhands doing chores, but otherwise I only encountered two other people: a young couple, who entered the building I was eating my lunch in whilst sheltering from the rain
  
• I spent some time alone (on a farm! in the middle of the biggest city in Canada!) at various moments in time yesterday, with two cows, two horses, two sheep (with one of them nurturing two adorable black lambs), two rabbits, and a whole bunch of local birds (feasting on the abundance of animal feed inside the barns) to keep me company on a rainy outing
  
• The spare pair of socks I'd been keeping in my backpack for months (I had to work a shift once with soaked feet; never again!) finally came in clutch, as the rain had been persistently dribbling down my shoes all day. Let me tell you, the feeling of taking off slimy, wet socks and putting on crisp, dry ones is a small but divine experience
  
• I need to go back to Riverdale Farm in the middle of a grey spring day. The empty, forlorn but not desolate energies in the moment provided me with ethereal feelings of groundedness that I will no doubt try to replicate at home but something, something will always be missing
  
• When I found myself roughly in the middle of the estate, I stared at two cows from behind two layers of iron fence separating human and beast. As I approached, one of the cows, bigger than the other, made a move to come closer to me, curiosity evident in its big brown eyes; but the draw of the hay trough was greater, and besides, a big puddle of mud between the fence and Big Bertha (what else to call a big cow?) discouraged an approach. As I continued my silent staring, I internally thanked Big Bertha for nourishing me. I know that that specific cow had not fed me, as it was obviously still alive, but I was directly thanking the species using telepathic thoughts of gratitude. I mean, sure, I could have made a donation to Riverdale Farm and that might have been a slightly more effective gesture for the cow, but actually, I think that expressing gratitude for the food supply is important and that we are too disconnected from the food chain in the big city
  
• You see, I eat Ontario beef via the CSA (Community-Supported Agriculture) that my housemates and I support. It ends up being way cheaper than buying weekly at the supermarket, plus the beef is grass-fed and thus far superior nutritionally, and I reconnect more directly to the food chain. CSAs are good, people, look into it!
  
• Although I have never truly considered myself a vegetarian, I grew up with vegetarian values and it pains me greatly that Ontario/Canada still hasn't gotten rid of feedlots and intensive farming, at the very least, and that animal welfare is still a critical issue in this modern day & age
• So going back to me thanking the cow: I'm acknowledging that I understand that I live because animals like this cow die to feed people like me and that is a hell of a privilege to have as a Homo sapiens
  
• Humanism and animal husbandry thus go hand & hand -> perhaps more on this topic in a future blog post
  

I think the gratitude journal thing I started taking seriously a couple years ago is effectively seeping into other aspects of my life. I think it was supposed to, and I'm happier for it.

Moo.

ChatGPT consulted for factual info about three cow types: Jersey, Guernsey and Holstein. I think the cows I saw might have been Jersey cows but I'm not sure.