The author and her husband, Duane, own and operate a 550-cow dairy in Cochranville, Pa.
A number of years ago, there was a couple that moved from the city of Philadelphia to our farm-centric neighborhood. He was a retired policeman and lived and served his entire life in the city. He fell in love with our open landscape, the fellowship in our community, and the smells of the farm.
Usually, when people move into our area from cities and suburbs, they put in a complaint when we spread manure or they smell nearby animals. But this gentleman had a different take on his new country life. He loved the smells of the farm.
He reminded Duane on many occasions that there was no comparison between the smell of manure and the smells of the city life; manure was much better. He went into great detail on why he was happy to open his door every morning to the fresh smells of the farm. When I heard his description of city life, I can’t say that I blame him for his love of our farm smells.
Our oldest son lived in New York City for 10 years, and visiting the Big Apple from time to time was not out of the ordinary for me. I kind of enjoyed the short visits to the city. It is different scenery and fun to experience, but at the end of the visit, I am always ready to head back to my cows, green grass, and a clear view of the sunrise and sunset.
I recently had the opportunity to spend some time in New York City that absolutely sealed my opinion of heading back to the farm. I attended week-long meetings in New York City that focused on climate change initiatives. I was asked to take part in some of those conversations to talk about the dairy industry in our country and the tools that we need as dairy farmers to keep producing our amazing milk.
This was not a new experience, as I have been a part of these meetings before, but this is the first time I was in New York City while sitting at the table with unlike-minded individuals.
Maybe it was the mindset I was in, the conversations I was having, or maybe I was just not in the mood for what I was faced with that week. For whatever reason, the city did not give me a positive vibe.
The first night, the two different cabs I climbed into had several strong city smells, meshed all together into a mixing pot of something awful. I was not sure what I was sniffing, but I tried really hard not to inhale. As short as the rides were, they were long enough that the unique smells followed me around the entire evening.
The next day was not any better, and every street corner that I turned resulted in more unique and stifling odors. I never remembered the city smelling this bad.
Maybe I had lowered my tolerance level since I last visited New York City, or maybe I was just not in a position to accept the bad smells. But it was strong enough that I continuously craved a good breath of fresh air from the farm.
One of the most eye-opening points that kept nagging at me was the fact that I was there for a conference called “Climate Week” in which people from all over the globe gather in New York City for an event that focuses on climate change issues and finding solutions. As you can imagine, livestock production is a big part of those conversations.
Throughout the week, as I was walking over the steaming vents on the streets and weaving in and out of the many odors, I thought of the sweet and pure smells of our farm and the stark difference in the air that was floating over the concrete. I also thought that it may be a good idea to load up all the Climate Week participants onto a bus and take them to a dairy farm for the conference. I envision that they would get off of the bus and take the biggest breath of clean air they have ever encountered.
I guess if they do not know any different, and the majority of their life they are breathing in city air, then I need to figure out how to show them there is a huge difference between the clean air around our farm and the city streets emitting a strange collection of odors.
If only they took the time to smell the difference, there is a possibility they would change their perception that my cows are the problem. I know this notion is a minority view and most people I meet understand this is a misconception, but it is the loud minority that cannot be ignored. I also suppose that the smells we surround ourselves with becomes the normal and that looks different for all of us.
In full transparency, there are times I agree that my farm smells and my manure-covered clothes are thrown right into the washer with double detergent and white vinegar.
The bottom line is that smells are personal and everyone deserves to have their own opinions on what smells good and what doesn’t. I just know without a doubt that I prefer my home, my sweet-smelling home.
