Iowa farms

Iowa and farming are inseparable. When I was moving to Iowa, I had visions of meeting a farmer, seeing all the equipment, and getting a better understanding of the labor that allows Iowa to call itself the nation's N basket, for all values of N.

I moved here about a year ago and made very little progress on meeting a farmer. How could I? I wouldn't even know where to start.

Yet, fortune smiled upon me. A friend of mine has family who own a farm, and he invited me to join him over the weekend. It's near Stanton, Iowa—a small town about an hour southwest of Des Moines.

I got to meet his mom, dad, uncle, younger brother, and younger sister. The dad, younger brother, and uncle run the farm. They produce corn, soybeans, cow milk, and strawberries! I had the privilege of eating with them, spending time with them, and learning about their work.

Farm work, at least on that farm, consumes about 70 hours a week. Cows need a lot of attention—they're milked twice a day. The day starts at about 4:30 am: cows need to be rounded up at the milking saloon and processed. The second milking is at around 4 pm. Meanwhile, the land need to be worked, machinery maintained, cow feed replenished, manure scraped, and many other tasks.

This is the first time I've been close enough to a cow to touch it. The calves are pretty adorable, even though they don't like being petted and are in a barn with hundreds or thousands of flies. They're like Bambi—except with more potential.

The milking saloon is more high-tech than I thought: it's a barn that holds about eight cows in individual stalls. There is an entrance into the barn, an exit, and a walkway that connects all stalls with them. Gates control where the cows can go. The typical process: a farmer chooses what stall to open, opens it, and opens the entrance to the barn. The cow enters the walkway and proceeds intil an open gate forces it to enter the stall. Once it's in, the farmer closes the gate behind the cow. He then cleans its udders and hooks up this octopus-looking thing to each teat. It's a hub with four short hoses coming out of it; each one pulsates. All of them draw milk into the hub, which is connected to a translucent pipe that runs all along the barn. That pipe connects to the large refrigerator where the milk waits to be picked up by an 18-wheeler and carried to its final destination.

Apparently, this awesome technology is old—it was considered high-tech in the sixties. I am impressed nontheless.

I did not stay long enough to be helpful to the farm, but I had many new experiences, met wonderful people, and better understand what's involved in bringing food to my table. I feel grateful and content.