THE LAND — JUNE 12/JUNE 19, 2020
www.thelandonline.com — “Where Farm and Family Meet”
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Years later, the barn continues to be a source of comfort “The barn was very large. It was very he docked tails, clipped teeth, notched gentle pulse of the milking units seemed to be keepold. It smelled of hay and it smelled of ears and castrated the males. ing time for a symphony of intense labor. manure. It smelled of the perspiration of I cannot recall ever being bothered by The cows had kind eyes trimmed with long lashes tired horses and the wonderful sweet the noise or the smell of the pigs. I supas they patiently waited to be milked. I would be breath of patient cows. It often had a sort pose at that time, I had never known life armed with a stiff long-bristled broom, whose hanof peaceful smell - as though nothing bad without those things. For me, being in dle would tower above me as I swept feed into the could ever happen in the world.” the barn meant that I had a job and mangers. Time had worn the manger with a mix– E.B. White (Charlotte’s Web) there was a possibility of learning someture of acidic silage and licking by sandpaper-like thing new. In our barn, I truly felt as if tongues. Repairs were attempted with a smooth DEEP ROOTS More than once these words have nothing bad could ever happen in my litgreen epoxy liner. stopped me in my tracks — stretching my By Whitney Nesse tle world. mind far into my youth, bringing me back In 1991, my aunt and uncle sold their herd. I was to the barns where I spent a significant amount of My parents and grandparents sold the pigs in only six years old; and still, the memories are as if my childhood. I was fortunate enough to grow up on 1993 when I was eight years old. The memories it were yesterday. a livestock farm where my father and grandfather and feelings, however, are as vivid now as they were As an adult, raising my own feeder cattle, I find raised pigs and later raised feeder cattle. I also lived 27 years ago. there is nothing quite as peaceful as a barn full of a stone’s throw away from my aunt and uncle who As I mentioned earlier, I was fortunate enough to cattle in the mid-afternoon. The chores are done, the were dairy farmers until the early 1990’s. live closely to my dear aunt and late uncle. It was cattle have eaten, and an afternoon of ruminating is From very early on, I was my father’s shadow. My in their barn that my love for the dairy industry the only thing on the agenda. The barn is quiet and father is a fairly tall man and I recall having to jog began; and in my early 20’s, blossomed into fullall is at rest. I usually find myself lingering in the alongside him to keep up with his swift pace. We time work in the dairy industry. For a number of barn during those hours, watching my cattle. had a long, narrow farrowing barn with an attached years I worked as a relief milker, herdsperson, and As I watch the cattle calmly lying in their deep nursery. It was red with white trim. On the south artificial insemination technician in eastern bed of cornstalks, chewing their cud, eyes only half end of the building there was a large old elm tree Wisconsin and central Minnesota. opened, I breathe deeply — soaking in the peaceful with a tire swing hanging from a branch which The sweet and sour smell of a dairy farm always atmosphere. I don’t believe there is a more pure stuck out like an old, gnarled, boney finger. fills me with nostalgia. My mind’s eye is ushered form of peace than the peace which is given by the Upon entering the barn there was a small office back to my aunt and uncle’s barn, where the 30 Creator to the caretaker in these quiet moments. which contained a desk. There was a calendar and a milking cows stood in their stanchions tail to tail Whitney Nesse is a sixth-generation livestock farmharvest gold-colored rotary dial phone on top of the and the bright lights illuminated a white limed cen- er who is deeply rooted in her faith and family. She desk. A few of the desk drawers were used to store ter aisle. The hum of the vacuum pump and the writes from her central Minnesota farm. v brown glass bottles of different sorts of medicine and vitamin injections. There were pasty orange livestock markers; and every spring, housed a little family of mice whom I would regularly check on. They made their nest in a bed of chewed-up papers in the farthest reaches of the desk drawer. Occasionally, By KRISTIN KVENO she felt to be raising crops and when the mother mouse was home, I would hold her The Land Staff Writer animals with the family she (which Grandpa was never pleased with). held so dear. The love she felt for This spring I had the opportuher family, the farm and her My father would work at a brisk pace in the nity to head out to a farm near faith were evident in just our brightly-lit farrowing barn while I sat in a farrowSt. George, Minn. and interview short time together that spring ing crate holding the piglets. Their plump, pink belthe Dummer family about their afternoon. lies were full of milk — continuously being warmed maple syrup business. Matt and by a heat mat. Sometimes I got to be Dad’s helper. his wife, Nicki were so welcomNicki passed away on June 6 Standing in the crate, I would hand him piglets as ing and gave me a tour as well in a tragic accident. Her legacy as explained the maple syrup will continue in her precious making process. Right away, you children that seemed to be filled could sense the immense pride with that same love for family, that Matt and Nicki had in confaith and farming that she exuGUEBERT, from pg. 4 tinuing the family tradition of berated with so much joy. Our producing maple syrup each thoughts and prayers go out to Should we believe what she said or what we see? spring. Their kids, Zach, (age the Dummer family and their We are free to choose. five), Luke (age three) and Leah community. We’re also free (the freest in the world, most of us (one and a half years old) loved A GoFundMe page has been believe) to find new ground where every American helping with the maple syrup set up for the family. It can be can stand together in true greatness. making and were eager to show accessed at https://www.gofundme how it’s done. The only thing stopping us is us. Photo by Kristin Kveno me.com/f/matt-amp-nicki-dumI had the chance to walk with The most recent issue of The Land mer-family?fbclid=IwAR0f8Koy The Farm and Food File is published weekly Nicki out to check on the tapped featured the Dummer family’s maple h V p O O 5 p L 1 Y r f Z M T X C K D through the United States and Canada. Past colmaple trees. It was during that syrup operation. On June 6, Nicki umns, events and contact information are posted at 29shvIz0jo74tk1Yxvb-qt4y2sTtime she told me how blessed Dummer (far right) was tragically www.farmandfoodfile.com. v bKMmw v killed in a motorcycle accident.
A passing so young
New ground
