No, Not That Farmer

In 1978, at a Future Farmers of America convention in Kansas City, MO, the late radio broadcaster Paul Harvey delivered the speech of his life.

In it, he summoned and summed up all that he and many other Americans found admirable about the archetypal American farmer.

If you haven't heard or read it, here's an excerpt from that speech:

And on the 8th day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, “I need a caretaker.”

So God made a farmer.

God said, “I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newborn colt. And watch it die. Then dry his eyes and say, ‘Maybe next year.’ Somebody strong enough to clear trees and heave bails, yet gentle enough to tame lambs and wean pigs and tend the pink-combed pullets.

Somebody who will stop his mower for an hour to splint the broken leg of a meadow lark. It had to be somebody who’d plow deep and straight and not cut corners. Somebody to seed, weed, feed, breed and rake and disc and plow and plant and tie the fleece and strain the milk and replenish the self-feeder and finish a hard week’s work with a five-mile drive to church.”

So God made a farmer.
***
It's easy to embrace Harvey's romantic ideal of an American icon—a commoner blessed with superhuman strength, endless patience, buckets of empathy, and an unlimited supply of 72-hour days. 

Lacking an actual workforce with those characteristics, US farms would fail in droves!—which, as it turns out, is exactly what's been happening for longer than most of us have been alive. 

With that as a backdrop, imagine an organization like the Shasta County, CA, 4-H—which literally exists to encourage young people to participate in and perpetuate local agriculture—going to some wild-eyed lengths to undermine its own mission:

Last year, the 9-year-old daughter of Jessica Long, a resident of Shasta County in northern California, acquired a baby goat for a 4-H “livestock project.” The idea was that she would raise the goat until he was ready to be auctioned for slaughter at the local county fair, a common activity for 4-H members.

But raising Cedar led Long’s daughter to care deeply for him and, on the eve of the auction last June, she pleaded for the goat to be spared. The fair organizers refused. Then, Republican state Sen. Brian Dahle, a farmer and unsuccessful 2022 California gubernatorial candidate, submitted a winning bid of $902 for Cedar’s meat, of which $63.14 was to go to the fair. Later that night, in a last-ditch effort to save Cedar the goat from slaughter, Long and her daughter took him from the fair.

But that’s when the plot took a dark turn no Hollywood studio would greenlight. The Shasta District Fair claimed Long had stolen Cedar, demanded she surrender the goat for butchering, and threatened to involve the police if she did not. Long refused. That’s when the Shasta County Sheriff’s Office got involved. Armed with a search warrant, officers drove more than 500 miles across northern California, seized Cedar from the Sonoma County property where he had been taken, and returned him to Shasta County, where he was slaughtered.
***

To be fair, the national 4-H Council could not appear more different from its Shasta County chapter. It doesn't deserve to share in the PR disaster Shasta County officials created.

In fact, the national 4-H explicitly supports “…the practice of positive youth development by creating positive learning experiences; caring and trusted adult mentors who cultivate positive relationships with youth; creating safe, diverse and inclusive environments; and meeting young people wherever they are.”

In the miraculously short span of a few days, Shasta County 4-H officials failed to uphold {checks list} all of those ideals, traumatized a young girl and her family, and betrayed the ethos of Paul Harvey's god-designed caretaker. 

Which is one hell of an accomplishment, not to mention an interesting approach for people tasked with motivating young, aspiring agrarians.

***

In the spirit of full disclosure, some might find it relevant that all my grandparents were farmers.

And that both my parents (and their many siblings) were raised on farms. Come to think of it, my mother-in-law also was raised on a farm.

The point of this little roll-call is that when it came time for them to stay or go, not one of those kids chose to stay and continue the family business. Make of that what you will.

The thing is, though...to this day my mom (now 85), still speaks sadly about giving up for slaughter the piglets and lambs she raised all those years ago. 

She doesn't remember much about current events—but she can talk at length about how she felt watching her much-loved friends herded into a trailer and driven away.

I can't say for sure what lesson she learned from those losses. But for those who celebrate such things (including many of the commenters in a Modern Farmer article linked here), congratulations.

The legacy continues.