North Country dairy farms of a generation ago, when they were mostly operating with under a hundred cows, used to have access to what were called “relief milkers”. Many farm families were both practically and culturally bound to their herd’s incessant demands so that vacations were rare. Still, I used to hear old farmers tell me how (paraphrasing), “ We had a relief milker once when we had to take our daughter to the hospital in Syracuse”.
The relief milker was either a member of the dwindling group of hired hands, or a former farmer who had sold their herd when economic forces pinched too hard. They were now working other jobs but with the relief gigs, were able to hold onto a profession they loved and be valued for their extremely special skill set by doing chores for crisis stricken, or Myrtle Beach-bound, neighbors. It’s important to realize that this relationship existed because a critical mass of farms existed in the North Country. The number of farms and the farmers’ need to get away, matched up with the number of relief milkers who made that possible.
We run a vegetable farm in Lisbon. Vegetables need only a fraction of the dedicated attention that cows do and I, for one, have no interest in the old fashioned ways of the farmer who only leaves the farm for emergencies. Still, it’s not easy to get away. Though we aren’t completely alone in farming produce here, we certainly don’t have anything close to the resources and services that the dairy community does.
Also, our farm is built almost entirely out of quirks and idiosyncrasies. There is no manual of standard operating procedures. Sometimes it seems like to start this machine, you have to do a handstand, lift a wire with your toe, press the clutch with your hip and turn the key with your teeth.
Or to make best use of this harvested crop, you have to sort it into seventeen hard-to-differentiate categories and then label, store and deliver each separately. . . all at different prices that change according to the day’s horoscope. And to get this seed to germinate you have to cover it with exactly six micrometers of truffle dust, irrigate it with atomized Red Bull and get the Pope on Zoom to bless them in Latin . . . ad nauseum. In other words, imagining finding someone who could be trained to deal with our odd ways and means seemed utterly impossible.
Last year a friend proposed we make a three-week trip to South America this winter. “Impossible!” I thought initially, but then learned that one of the very few other vegetable farmers in the area was retiring and may be able to cover for me.
In our first conversation, this person was positive about doing it but many things had to fall into place over many months for us to arrive at a firm “yes”. Months passed and things kept falling as they should and last fall, to my amazement, the trip got a green light. After getting the logistics work for the trip underway, I met with my “relief packer” to show him the ropes. It was such a pleasure to see that I didn’t have to explain every little thing, that his decades of experience gave him all the necessary instincts to make sense out of our farm’s special needs. He knew the core of what we were up to by heart and only had to remember the 5% that was unique to our operation.
So, I flew off to Chile, had a grand adventure, and returned weeks later to find that everything had gone as well or better than if I had stayed home. Countless thanks were bestowed on this fellow and his family, some money exchanged hands, and I was able to carry on with the rest of the winter’s work feeling refreshed and inspired by my great trip.
Here’s to all the relievers out there, providing a service of inestimable value. If you are a farmer in need of a getaway, I hope you are lucky and have a neighbor as good as mine.
Dan Kent grows diverse organic vegetables in Lisbon, NY under the name Kent Family Growers. The farm’s produce is marketed through the CSA model as well as wholesale outlets in the North Country and downstate. Originally from Henderson, NY, Dan moved here in 2003 following some years as a cargo-bicycle courier in California, a sternman on a lobster boat and a farm apprentice in Maine.