© 2025 Rex Jaeschke. All rights reserved.
For the first 16 years of my life (1953–1969), I lived in a rural, semi-desert area of South Australia. There, from age 2–7, for our own table, we raised pigs, milk cows, and chickens. From age 8–12, we lived on a 4,000-acre farm where we grew wheat and barley, and raised sheep, pigs, and chickens (see my essays, “My Formative Years,” Part 1 and Part 2). Finally, from age 13–15, on around 10 acres, we raised pigs (see Part 3). During those years, I helped out a lot with farm animals and grew very comfortable around them, especially pigs.
Fast-forward to 2012 when I moved to a rural part of Loudoun County, Virginia, here in the US. I spent a year living well away from populated areas. As I met people involved in various agricultural endeavors, both with and without animals, I offered them “a spare pair of hands” with occasional tasks around the farm. In nine years, no-one took me up on my offer!
Now there is an old English nursery rhyme, “Old MacDonald Had a Farm,” which you may well know. For the purpose of this essay, my Farmer Mac has a wife, Mrs. Mac. Together, they have two children, Miss Mac and Master Mac, both of whom help out with a variety of non-trivial farm chores, from butchering, to working with livestock, to moving electric fencing, and driving various kinds of machinery.
I’d known Mrs. Mac for a number of years through her job, and learned that her husband was raising some farm animals using regenerative farming, a technique that was new to me. So, once again, I offered to help, and this time, the planets were aligned! I was at my peak (a-young-at-heart 68) and ready to dust off some very old, but well-learned skills, as well as to learn some new ones. After all, I was much older and wiser, in a different era, and certainly in a completely different environment with high rainfall and the seasons swapped over six months.
In this essay, I’ll describe some of the farm-related work I’ve done with Farmer Mac and his family members. But before I get started, let’s define a couple of terms that I’ll use.
One of the vehicles we use to get around the farm is an All-Terrain Vehicle (ATV), sometimes called a quad bike or a 4-wheeler. We use it for pulling down and setting up temporary electric fences, as well as for broadcasting seed and getting to and from different areas for a whole host of tasks, and in all kinds of weather (think snow, ice, and mud).
Another very useful machine we use is a skid steer, a versatile device that has a variety of attachments: a fork lift; a bucket for grading and carrying; a long prong for lifting huge, cylindrical bales of hay; a fence-post pile-driver; among other things. It’s steered using two large levers, which go backwards and forwards as well as sideways, with each movement controlling a different aspect of motion, including raising and lowering attachments. With chains on the wheels, it can go through deep mud and ice/snow.
The farm is made up of fields, which have permanent fences. We can subdivide a field into multiple paddocks using temporary electric fences.
My Baptism of Fire
My audition took place at the farmhouse on a weekend, and it involved the slaughter of 80 chickens. Farmer Mac had hired a trailer-mounted set of machinery for the day. The first device was for separating the chickens from their heads. The second one had a set of vertical, rotating shelves on which the carcasses rode in and out of steaming hot water, so the feathers could easily be removed. The challenge here is to have the water at the Goldilocks temperature: not too hot and not too cold, but just right! Too hot and the skin will come off with the feathers; too cold, and the feathers won’t come off at all.
Next up was the horizontal washer/dryer-like device into which the carcasses were transferred, a few at a time, and where long, rubber fingers “plucked” out the feathers as the tub turned. Do it right, and almost all the feathers are removed, and the meat is in good shape. Do it wrong, and bones are broken, the meat is bruised, and more than a few feathers remain attached.
My job was to take the carcasses from there, cut out the necks, and remove the legs and peel off their skin (keeping both the necks and legs for sale to certain discriminating cooks), to remove a special gland from the tail, and to open up the body cavity. For this task, one needs the right kind of knife that is sharpened just right. The final stage was to remove everything inside the body, saving the offal; that is, the edible internal organs. Now for many years, I’d been under the misconception that when a farm animal was killed, the only thing not used was the noise it made as it died. However, some 15 years ago, a much older cousin of mine told me that our grandpa reliably informed him that, “No, that noise was captured and sent to a company in the state capital where it was used in referee’s whistles!” Who knew?
We were a crew of seven, and for quite some time we worked outside on a pleasant day with occasional light rain. I guessed that it had been at least 55 years since I’d last been on a chicken-butchering production line, but it all came back to me. (As a young kid, one of my tasks was to put methylated spirits into a metal bowl, light it on fire, and to hold a plucked chicken over it to singe off the remaining, small feathers. Ah, the Good Old Days!)
It took another year for me to be conscripted again, when four of us butchered 100 more chickens.
Electric Fences
The main property, and the fields within it, are surrounded by wire fences, which are electrified with 15,000 volts. (Although it has low current, I am reliably informed that the shock is quite noticeable, although thus far I have no personal experience of that.) As such, when one is working on or near a fence, one needs to make sure the power is turned off. To do that, one goes to the barn where the network is plugged into a wall socket, disconnects the plug, and puts one’s car keys next to the plug. This shows anyone else who might come along while one is working over the hill and out of sight that the power has been intentionally disabled.
Portable electric fences are used in two ways: to provide multi-acre paddocks for cattle, and much smaller areas for pigs. The cattle fences are 1-strand and strung along taller poles while the pig fences are 2-strand strung on shorter pegs. Most of my work with such fences has been with pigs, quite a few of which like to watch me working, up close and personal, although none has ever offered to help! As for the cattle fencing, I did get trained on how to roll in the wire, and to remove, and later install, the poles while driving along in the ATV. Like many tasks, it can look easy until one has to do it oneself. And to be sure, there is an easy way and a hard way, and the “obvious” way isn’t always the best (he says from experience)!
It seems that the optimum time to move cattle to a new paddock is around 4 pm. So, at that time, a device high on a tall pole along the fence between the current and next paddocks starts buzzing and the wire is raised up high enough for the cattle to walk under. Once they have been moved a few times by a person, they learn the drill and start walking to the lift-pole when they hear the buzzing.
While the temporary fences get their power from the farm-wide fence, in the case of the pig fence, it is typically augmented by power from a portable solar panel, which one moves along on a sled when the pigs are moved from one paddock to the next.
Clearing Brush
Soon after the second chicken-butchering operation, I was promoted from “Apprentice Farmhand” to “Farmhand, Third Class,” and given orders to go and “Clear some brush!”
Although I’d heard that term used from time to time, I had no real idea what that activity involved. (Back in the 80’s, the media occasionally reported that President Reagan was on his ranch in California doing just that.) In the 5–10” rainfall area in Australia, we didn’t have bushes and such growing up every fence post or on corrals; there simply wasn’t water to grow much of anything!
My task was to clear brush on both sides of a wire fence (whose 15,000-volt electric supply had hopefully been turned off), and sometimes the brush was quite dense. And it almost always contained plants with serious defenses. Can you say nasty prickers? While I was offered the use of a small chainsaw, I very quickly decided that machine had too much power, so I reverted to a pair of long-handled snips. Not only are the thorny branches dangerous when you are trying to cut them down, but even after you have thrown them behind you, you inadvertently step back on them, and they stand up and attack you from behind, wrapping themselves around your neck, arm, or wrist; I kid you not! From the very beginning, I wore a protective coat with hood, and after only a few sessions, that developed many tears from such attacks. Without a doubt, this task has been my least favorite activity!
I started this task in the summer, and as it got rather hot and humid during the day, I decided to start at 6 am. While it was not so hot then, I recall one morning where the humidity level was 100%. It was like bathing standing up with all my clothes on!
One of my main concerns was poison ivy. I’d learned the hard way in recent years that I am allergic to it. Fortunately, I encountered very little.
Demolition and Construction
I’m pretty good at breaking things down, and not too bad at putting them up. So, I was delighted to take on the task of removing some large, wooden shelves and their supporting posts from against the wall in a barn, and in their place, assembling five tiers of steel framing with Rex’s-own-design, custom-built plywood shelving.
Working with Pigs
Farmer Mac had some breeding sows and the longest boar I have ever seen. He had huge tusks that curled outside his mouth, and I was advised to never turn my back on him when I was in his space. Once their litters were weaned, we moved the piglets to their own space. This involved erecting an electric fence around a small area along a tree line, half-filled with dense brush (with nasty prickers, of course) and trees, and half open with grass. They were there about 7–10 days, and ate crushed grain from a small silo. They also ate whatever they could find when rooting up the ground. And root up the ground they did, in a very big way. After they were done, you could hardly tell that it was the same piece of land!
I kept adding new fencing and moving the pigs down a long hill, each time taking the solar power unit mentioned earlier, and moving the water tank and feeders. They had no housing, but they survived just fine even through the snow and ice of the winter when it got well below freezing.
Eventually, we moved them into the first of two 5-acre paddocks that were densely forested, and they spent several months terraforming the landscape.
My big challenge came during the winter when the water in the large plastic tank and/or the valve feeding the drinking trough froze. For a week, every two days, while the temperature was below freezing, I connected a hose to the underground main and filled small troughs. Afterwards, I had to drain the hoses (by running them down the side of a hill) so they wouldn’t freeze up.
Working with Cattle
I’ve spent a small amount of time with cattle: moving them from one paddock to another, moving their electric fences, and putting ear tags on cows and calves, none of which were too keen to have a hole punched in their ear. The cattle are often moved to a new paddock every one or two days.
The Sheep
Farmer Mac decided to get some sheep, but not the usual wool-producing variety; these had hair, which one does not shear/keep. Instead, they are for meat. In general, they are raised in the same paddock as the cattle, which has given rise to the idea of a flerd, a combination of flock (of sheep) and herd (of cattle).
The Goats
When I first started on the farm, there was a small herd of goats, although I had little contact with them. They lived in a large paddock in the forest where they helped clean up a lot of poison ivy. They were guarded by a large dog, which protected them against coyotes and other predators. The dog lived a solitary life, but was ever so happy to have some human company occasionally.
Broadcasting Seed
The ATV has a bin mounted on the back, which can hold seed that falls out the bottom at a controlled rate. An electric motor throws the contents out horizontally in all directions, and is driven by a cord plugged into the ATV’s cigarette lighter receptacle.
The idea is that, at several times a year, just before cattle are moved to a paddock, one broadcasts seeds and such throughout that paddock. Over the next one or two days, the cattle dig up the ground with their hooves as they walk around and graze, the seeds fall into the hoof prints, along with fresh manure, and voila, the seeds get planted and fertilized.
So, there I was, racing like Evil Knievel, going up and down hills through very tall grass, merrily dispersing seed, and all was well. Until, that is, I came across a very large hole dug by a groundhog. Fortunately, I saw it in time and was able to swerve to one side with one rear wheel up in the air over the hole. It quickly occurred to me that if I had run into the hole, my day very likely would have been ruined! (Can you say, “He suffered a broken neck when he went over the handlebars at full speed?”) I then raced up the next hill and came back for the next run in that paddock, all the while reminding myself, “Remember the hole!”
Supporting Migratory Birds
The farm is on the migration path for tree swallows, which, each day, can eat a third of their body weight in insects that are annoying to farm animals or detrimental to certain plant species. As such, Farmer Mac encourages these birds by providing houses in which they can build nests.
As spring approached in March, my first bird-related task was to visit each house (which is generally mounted on a fence post, facing south or west), to open the side flap and clear out any previous years’ nest, and to spray disinfectant on all the inside surfaces to kill any parasites. This went smoothly until I got to one house. As I was standing in front of it with my face about 12 inches (30 cms) from the entrance hole I touched the flap, and two field mice leaped out the hole onto my glasses. Then, when I opened the flap, another one ran down my arm. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or the mice! Sadly, as I cleaned out their very cozy, soft, feathered nest, I realized that in trying to help the swallows, I’d rendered the mice homeless. C’est la vie!
A month later, I made some new houses and mounted them in areas that had none, about 100 yards (100 meters) apart, along tree lines. Several weeks after that, I was working on a fence that ended with a post supporting one of my new houses, and I was delighted to see that it had new tenants, who’d created a substantial nest inside. Days later, I was back at work on that fence when I saw the new occupants sitting on posts nearby watching me carefully. I was absolutely delighted that my work had a positive result. The following week, I found a nest with five eggs.
Wildlife on the Farm
The health of the soil and of a farm in general is partially indicated by the presence of wildlife. During my time there, I have encountered the following critters:
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While driving the ATV along a fence line by a creek, inspecting bird houses, I startled five large deer drinking in a creek.
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I once followed a red fox as it walked through heavy brush.
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As I approached a dam on the property, a large blue heron that had been fishing there took flight.
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There are a number of groundhogs, which love to dig large and deep burrows, often in the barn’s dirt floor or under its foundations. They are definitely not friends of mine!
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My encounter with a family of field mice was mentioned earlier.
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I also mentioned earlier the migrating tree swallows. Various other bird species are present as well, including birds of prey.
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While working on fence repairs, I flushed a large wild turkey out of the trees, and I came across several tortoises, each about 5” (12.5 cm) across.
My Designer Farmhand Outfit
Although my business work is all indoors, in the comfort of an office, I do have what I call “old clothes and boots” that I wear when working in the garden or repairing things around the house.
For many years, I’ve worn hiking boots around town as well as when travelling. At the start of this farming project, I had four pairs, the oldest two being used for rough work. I started with the oldest pair, but after some months, I wore those out. So, I moved to the next-oldest pair. Both boots had their sole detached at the front, so each time I went out to the farm, I’d wrap some strips of white duct tape around each one to hold things together. However, that only lasted one day. Finally, one sole came completely detached and that pair went into the trash bin. Now I wasn’t about to use my “good” pairs or pay a large amount of money for an industrial-strength pair of work boots, so I stopped by the local thrift shop to see if they had any size-14 (metric 46) footwear. They did, although they were shoes rather than boots, but they worked just fine, at least in the springtime when I bought them. (They likely will not be suitable in snow and ice.) Although the two pairs I discarded served their purpose well, given their numerous flaws, they were none too good during the winter snow and ice, or when it was wet. In the spring, I came across a large yard sale where I bought four pairs of gently used work shoes, socks, and other clothes, all from the estate of an elderly man who had been exactly my height and shoe size. Then for Christmas 2024, Farmer Mac gave me a pair of new water-proofed work boots.
As for clothing, back when I tried volunteering for organic farmers via WWOOF (see my essay from June 2023, “My One Time Wwoofing”), I bought two great pairs of lightweight, stretch-fabric work trousers. They have some zippered and some open pockets. When I dress for the farm, the multipurpose Leatherman tool Farmer Mac gave me goes in one pocket, and a long and strong length of baling string goes in the other. (Both come in handy on a regular basis.) I also take along several pairs of gloves, which strangely I don’t recall farmers in rural Australia ever using.
Hi-Tech Communications
Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a strained relationship with mobile phones, and while I own a very nice (yet inexpensive) one, it spends almost all its life switched off, without an answering service. Basically, it’s for emergency purposes and my convenience only. It is switched on by appointment, which most people seem to have no capacity to understand. (As a result, only a select handful of people have the number.) That said, from the time I leave home for the farm until I get back home, my mobile phone is on, so Farmer Mac and anyone else needing to contact me for farm-related work during that time, can reach me. It has been very handy and it's the first time I have had a regular use for that device. Now I don’t go wild with it; I only use it to make calls and to take photos.
One of the considerations when carrying a mobile phone is where to put it when it’s not in use. If it’s cold or windy, I wear a light-weight jacket that has a left-breast pocket in which I keep the phone. Being right-handed, I can easily unzip that pocket and retrieve it, and it’s well out of the way while I’m working. However, if I am not wearing that jacket, the phone has to go in a pocket down my trouser leg, but there it can easily get knocked about as I climb on and off machinery, and do other work. I’m looking at other solutions.
Lessons (Re-)Learned
Here are some things I’ve learned:
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When using an electric saw, it cuts much better when plugged in to the electric socket.
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My thumb is not the best fulcrum when using a pry bar.
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When racing through tall grass on an ATV, keep one eye looking ahead for obstacles (such as neck-breaking groundhog holes).
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It’s a long way down to reach the ground when you are 6’4” (190 cms), and you are pushing in or pulling out short poles for pig electric fences.
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“Snowboarding” on fresh cowpats might not become a new Olympic sport anytime soon.
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When cutting especially prickly brush, Mother Nature can attack you, especially when your back is turned.
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Pigs can root up a plot of land in double-quick time.
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When it is below freezing and there is plenty of snow and ice on the ground, that is not the best time to be working outdoors.
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Never underestimate the value of wearing sturdy gloves.
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The weather doesn’t care about your comfort level; the animals have to be fed, moved, and treated regardless of whether it is wet or dry, snowing or not, or you don’t feel well. Remember the old adage, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going!”
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Put your ATV into Park rather than Neutral when you leave it running and you get off to open a gate.
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Farming conditions in Northern Virginia’s climate are very different to those in rural South Australia. While a lot looks similar, on closer inspection many (most?) things are different.
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And this one I learned 65 years ago: always leave a farm gate in the same state that you found it. That is, don’t leave open a gate that was closed, and don’t leave closed one that was open.
So, Why Do I Do It?
That’s a question numerous people have asked me. Here are some data points:
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At my age, 71, many (most?) people are retired. However, having had at least three months (and then six months, and now nine) off per year for the past 40 years, the concept of retirement doesn’t make sense to me. I plan to perform paid and/or unpaid work until I drop!
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Although I’m in reasonable physical shape, apart from a 30-minute workout in a swimming pool three times a week (which only exercises certain body parts), having a semi-regular diet of lifting, bending, and stretching helps keep me active, so long as I can avoid straining my decrepit knees.
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For the most part, I have no regular schedule regarding day-of-the-week or hour-of-the-day, so it’s good to have some regimentation a day each week.
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I need a reason to get out of bed each morning, and heading off to the farm helps with that.
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I need variety, and I sure have plenty of that on the farm. And on more than a few occasions, I’ve gone to sleep looking forward to working on the farm the next day. As has been said, “If you like what you do for a job then it isn’t work!”
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I need to be useful.
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I love learning and teaching.
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I enjoy working with farm animals, and I appreciate their contribution to my dinner table.
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I’d like to help leave the planet in a better shape than I found it, and I share Farmer Mac’s interest in regenerative farming.
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I get to drive my SUV off-road and in 4-wheel drive!
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And I very much enjoy working closely, and spending time with Farmer Mac and his family members.
Conclusion
“Mary had a little lamb,” you’ve heard this tale before. But did you know she passed her plate, and had a little more?
With regards to “Old MacDonald Had a Farm,” although it started out in England, over the years, it has gone viral. For a list of alternate versions of this rhyme in other countries, click here. In any case, what’s with the E-I-E-I-O bit? Perhaps it’s the modern spelling of farm!
One of my legacies to Farmer Mac is that I introduced him to my idea of a Gentleman Farmer’s Lunch: smoked salmon and camembert cheese on cracked-pepper crackers, washed down with a chilled bottle of Martinelli’s’ finest sparkling apple cider. There we were sitting outside on some logs, in the sun, using an overturned crate as a picnic table, wondering (but not too much) what the peasants were doing that day.
In December 2023, just days after my 70th birthday, life was so good that I couldn’t imagine it getting any better. Yet it did! There I was driving to the neighboring state of West Virginia, in an old farm truck with straw and manure on the floor, pulling a large trailer load of scrap metal to be recycled, with country music playing. It was as if I’d died and gone to Heaven!
Now there is a downside to all this physical effort: Early in 2024, I admitted that my 70-year-old body was no longer capable of keeping up with my 20-year-old mind, and that I’d have to cut back, especially with some tasks. Now I’ve heard it said that “Death is nature’s way of saying ‘Slow down!’” but there is no reason to tempt fate just yet.
Finally, let me say without any doubt, “Farming is bloody hard work!” So, the next time you leave any food on your plate after a meal and that food is thrown away, think how you are insulting every person who worked hard to put that food on your table. (Sadly, here in the US, I’ve seen estimates as high as 30% with regard to the amount of food wasted!)
And to those of you who’ve wondered if I have any class, I hope to be promoted to “Farmhand, Second Class.” Time will tell.
Just in case you were wondering where most of the farm’s output ends up, search the internet for ‘"Spring House Farm Store" Hamilton Virginia.’