Schoharie County Prairie Farmer (A David Huse Tribute)
Schoharie County Prairie Farmer
By Troy Bishopp
I’ve been looking out my kitchen window for over a month at the spring carpet of green turn into a five foot high mass of dense, diverse grasses, legumes and forbs. It’s so thick I can barely walk through it, let alone try to roll out a run of portable fence. So I decided to bush-hog a path for easier access and allow the cattle to see the poly-wire before they crashed into it. I started the tractor across the field and in a New York minute, the whole rig stalled. I raised the hog all the way up and downshifted into low-low moving at a snail’s pace in an attempt to chop up this cajoling biomass. By the time the rain of seed heads and flying creatures cleared, I realized I have created a Northeast Prairie.
Walt Whitman wrote “While I know the standard claim is that Yosemite, Niagara Falls, the upper Yellowstone and the like, afford the greatest natural shows, I am not so sure but the Prairies and Plains, while less stunning at first sight, last longer, fill the esthetic sense fuller, precede all the rest, and make North America’s characteristic landscape”. The importance of this grassland ecosystem seems to have been forgotten-- given there is only 1% of it left. This eerily low percentage also reflects the loss of our human national treasure, the farmer.
Three weeks ago I lost my good friend and custom grazing partner, David Huse, in a tractor/car accident while he was trying to tame Nature’s grasses for a neighbor. Two weeks previous to this tragedy he hosted a pasture walk in an attempt to inspire us to think holistically about the grassland environment. When asked about his goals, he piped up quickly, “I want to create a stress-free life where I am in sync with nature.” This noble edict struck a chord with me amongst his varying opinions on “gummit” programs, the lack of meat processing and local energy production.
The group of graziers treaded far ahead of me as I hung back to study the results of the prairie dynamic where his large ungulates (cows) worked their magic upon the sod as the wolf (poly-fence) kept the herd moving. This profound quiet was really controlled chaos under foot and took me back hundreds of years where a buffalo may have touched this very spot with hoof and mouth. Ed, a reporter from the local paper, curiously stayed behind with me to seek the holy grail of grazing.
Some days Mother Nature must sit back with a cold one and smile watching her 2 pasture suitors on “moo-tube” admiring the landscape created by a thinking farmer. There is a real connotation and bias in agriculture to look at this sward and preen it all down to a manicured state with depreciable iron. Keeping your grass under control is the mark of a good steward right? And any unruly, wiry, un-kept sward must represent laziness and deceit for the environment? Within a holistic mindset, nothing could be further from the truth.
This Schoharie County Prairie Farmer’s vision, goal and hard work created a mosaic of textures, patterns and colors which stitched the ecosystem together into one large natural quilt. Upon further investigation, the pockets of un-grazed grass contained nests of chirping Bobolinks hovering overhead. The amber seed heads of the mature orchardgrass sloughed off by the passing hocks, showered the ground with a legacy seed-bank and provided energy food for small rodents which continue life for other pasture predators. The shearing action on pasture plants from the cow’s teeth and wet tongues set off a chain reaction in the roots which awaken the micro flora into action. The trampled plants and associated litter excite even more biological stimulation.
Parting the soiled mass, I found earthworm holes stacked high with beneficial casings. The blade of my knife plunges easily into the soft earth, no doubt that organic matter and nutrient cycling are allowing for maximum water and carbon sequestration. Ed said to me, “I had no idea there was so much going on out here. This is awesome.” At this point, he was ready for my favorite scene. A picturesque vista? A baby calf nursing its mother? No Silly, a perfectly dimpled cow pie teaming with life. Manure quality is a time honored indicator of animal and pasture performance. The pile had an incredible amount of dung beetles sucking out the moisture with mystery divers and swimmers providing food for grassland birds and turkeys while energizing the plant roots. Judging by the manure, I didn’t even have to look at the cattle to know they were well nourished and happy.
Little did I know this experience within a man’s passion to create a stress-free lifestyle, grass-finished beef and a healthy environment would be his last. The vigor by which he defended his principles, positions and thinking on agricultural issues and grazing have at times, put him in an adversarial position. I’m sure there are a few who would’ve been satisfied in bush-hogging his ideas and error on the side of conformity, not diversity. You don’t feed a country for very long with this attitude.
A large, skylight provided a mottled scene over my friend’s casket, as I sat in the pew at St. Vincent de Paul’s Church in Cobleskill clutching a little farmscape card with the 23rd psalm on it. I heard and felt the words from the pastor and David’s brothers, all the while looking up at the view of the sky in an attempt to hold in all the emotion I was feeling. It was during the singing of Amazing Grace that I noticed the portal filled with sun, shining through a crystal clear blue sky. My eyes and heart couldn’t hold back the flood, but I just kept thinking, why and why now? And that we don’t need any less independent farmers.
As I move the Huse’s family herd through my farm’s grassland savannah, dense with David’s spirit, trust and teachings, I am realizing the importance of relationships, observation, mentoring and sharing experiences among all people connected with food. I think Dave would have wanted us to sustain this legacy. “To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, one clover, and a bee, and revery. The revery alone will do, if bees are few.”—Emily Dickinson Published in Lancaster Farming 7/4/2010