Raising animals a good way to prepare for life

My kids are city kids, much to my chagrin. They’ve lived in apartments their entire lives, but our apartment here in Blacksburg, Virginia is, at least, near a sheep pasture. It’s as close to agriculture as my kids have come, but when I close my eyes and hear the bleating, I imagine I’m home in Palmer, Alaska.

Lest I deceive you, I did not grow up on a farm — not a “real” farm, anyway, a “hobby farm.” Small-scale agriculture is a big part of my life, perhaps because my mom is the daughter of a dairy farmer and I grew up on that farmland. My six older siblings were all 4-H members and annually raised livestock for the 4-H Jr. Market Livestock Auction. By the time it was my turn, my family had collectively sold more than 40 animals at the state fair. (Let that sink in a little bit.) That doesn’t include breeding projects, petting zoo animals, a dairy cow and the odd alpaca and potbelly pig, just for fun.

So we didn’t have a real farm, but we had plenty of animals and I grew up around them. It was a safe, simulated microcosm of real life that taught me the lessons I needed to survive as an adult. Sure, I know how to show off a sheep’s rump — but I also learned many lessons that significantly impacted my life. Let me attempt to expound on a few.

The first lesson: life requires work. Maybe that’s cliché, but it’s true. Raising animals was tough! It was fun at times, but the thrills came in short bursts, and most of it was drudgery.

My animals needed to be fed, twice a day, at the same times each day, whether or not it was cold or raining or my favorite TV show was on or I had a stomachache. When they escaped from their pens, they had to be chased down and caught. When I took in a rejected baby alpaca, I bottle-fed it like you would a newborn baby — every 3 hours, day and night. I cleaned out pens, I dragged uncooperative lambs out for walks, I spent hours washing and brushing and blow drying hair (my animal’s, not my own). I worked hard all summer long, and it taught me not to be scared of work. It was just a part of life.

This was an important lesson to learn because, in reality, the work to fun ratio is pretty high for anything worth doing. It is for my life currently, that’s for sure. I love my kids, but this mom gig involves much more unpleasantness and toil than I imagined! I shudder to think how woefully unprepared for motherhood I would have been without my animal “babies.”

Raising animals gave me a chance to experience pride in accomplishment when my hard work paid off. I had some wonderful moments in the animal exhibits building at the fair, and I often won ribbons and had great success.

It wasn’t all roses though, and that was another great lesson livestock taught me — life isn’t fair, and you have to learn to deal with disappointment and embarrassment.

One year, I purchased a calf in November and he died that night of a heart attack before I even had a chance to unload him from the trailer. Not only did I pay $500 for a dead animal I could no longer raise to sell the following August, I had to scramble to find a leftover, less desirable replacement to purchase at the last minute.

Auction prices weren’t always good — sometimes I made enough to barely cover expenses. Sometimes I felt the judges weren’t fair.

In 12^th grade, eight years of practice landed me a spot in a competitive showmanship class, but just as I was poised to win, an ornery pig ran between my legs, lifting me off the ground and running the length of the show ring with me as its unwilling passenger. The judge laughed, and I didn’t win the title of Master Showman. Though I held my chin up in the ring, I cried myself to sleep that night.

But I learned: things go wrong just about as often as they go right, and you have to accept that. I lived through my disappointments and I’ve lived through much worse since. I learned to be humble and grateful when things went my way, supportive to others when luck was in their favor, and compassionate when my peers were experienced hardship.

I could go on and on about the things I learned: money management, routines, an appreciation for how food is produced, how to cope with death, how to compete gracefully, how to keep records. Raising animals gave me experiences in real-life problem solving. (‘How do you take an animal that weighs ten times more than you do on a controlled walk?’ for example.) And it kept me grounded. As my mom likes to say, no one can be too vain when they’re knee-deep in manure.

My animal projects helped me pay for college and ultimately impacted my career choice. It is not an understatement to say that the animals I raised made me the woman, the wife, and the mom I am today.

It is with a sad heart that I have followed the Mt. McKinley slaughterhouse saga from this side of the country, wondering if the facility will be around this summer for 4-H kids to use. I can’t help but hope it will be open for many years to come, not only because its closure would deal a heavy blow to production agriculture across the state, but also because I have a soft spot for the role it plays for youth in agriculture.

I know it was important to me. For although I wasn’t born in a barn, I was basically raised in one — and what a great place to grow up.

Rachel Kenley Fry was born and raised in Palmer and graduated from Utah State University in 2012 with degrees in journalism and agricultural communication. Her previous work for the Frontiersman includes two years as a “Student Views” columnist and contributions for a “What to Eat” column while she was an intern with the Alaska Division of Agriculture. She currently lives in Virginia with her husband and two children.