In chapter 10 in Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma, I was struck by the simplicity of grass
farming, and furthermore the huge turnout that simplicity supplies. Pollan describes this simplicity, stating
that “grass farmers grow animals—for meat, eggs, milk, and wool—but regard them
as part of a food chain in which grass is the keystone species, the nexus
between the solar energy that powers every food chain and the animals we eat”
(Pollan 188). The work of a grass farmer
like Joel Stalin is to bring the food system back to its natural state. The way in which Pollan describes Stalin’s
farm and how Stalin views his work, saying that “to be accurate,… we should
call ourselves sun farmers. The grass is
just the way we capitalize the solar energy” (188), is reminiscent of my
sophomore high school biology class.
Everything starts with the sun; a percentage of energy from solar rays
is converted through photosynthesis, then an animal (say a cow) eats it, and a
lesser amount of that energy is transferred to the cow, and when humans eat it,
an even lesser amount of energy is transferred from the cow to the human. It’s pretty basic, and Stalin along with his
other grass farmer friends are utilizing the simple and efficient transfer of
energy as they farm. But, when we add
petroleum to the mix, it becomes less efficient, and when we add other energy
costs that come from industrial farming, it becomes even more inefficient. Allan Nation describes this problem nicely,
saying that “all other methods of harvest and transfer require higher capital
and petroleum energy inputs and these necessarily lower the return to the
farmer/rancher” (188). But it is hard to
keep it simple, and requires a lot of organization and nuanced information on
Stalin’s part.
Pollan goes on to describe the cow’s grazing patterns, and
how the “native grasses evolved to thrive under precisely such grazing
patterns; indeed, they depend on them for their reproductive success”
(193). The process is called
management-intensive grazing, and involves the herd of cows (around 80 or so)
munching on a patch of grass for a day, then moving on to a new patch the next
day, then another new one the day after that, and so on. Stalin makes sure that each patch of grass
has had time to recover, and his cows eat it at exactly the proper time, and
their manure will help to fertilize it after they leave the following day. I need to say here that this seems crazy to
me. I have looked into the industrial
food system, as has Pollan (and to a much deeper extent than I have, I might
add) and have always been struck by just how much is going on, where things are
coming from and arriving to, and how it all keeps going without completely
caving in on itself (however, this day may soon come…). But Pollan describes Stalin’s Polyface Farm,
and I get it. It all makes complete
sense to me, and it is sustainable.
There is a lot going on under the surface, as Pollan describes, but it
is a naturally-occurring system, and it is so cool! Take this and compare it to the CAFOs and dried-out
grazing lands of industrial farming.
Stalin’s farm is sustainable and beautiful and simple.
McKenna, I was also very struck by Pollan's depiction of grass. It is fascinating that something we see every day, something we give hardly any thought to (well, I do because I'm allergic to it but that's another story ;)) has such a profound impact not only on what we eat but on the treatment of the animals that eat it. It is something we see every day but never take the time to appreciate as he does.
ReplyDelete