No Place Else Quite The Same

Yesterday we awoke to discover yet another GDT price drop overnight, and yet again I'm reminded of the uncertainties people suffer in this industry that so many of us consider to be our lives. However I know so many people, young people like myself, who are so dedicated to this lifestyle that they lead - they wouldn't have it any other way, even when times are getting tough.
It got me thinking, what is it in the agricultural industry that keeps proving to people that it is actually a worthwhile place to be?

The other night I went outside for a while with Pippa and for a change I actually just stopped. I stopped and looked around, looked out at the beautiful, clear night - the moon and stars burning the sky alight. I listened to the chickens shuffling their feathers and the pig, Tammy, seemingly grunting in her sleep.
It was almost ten o'clock, in the middle of winter in Northland and it was so utterly quiet. So peaceful. Perfect.
It made me think of those nights in the city while staying with my sister, big apartment buildings in the middle of Auckland. The endless roar of sirens and car alarms, hearing voices everywhere, and being in a place that was so lit up with streetlights, that the sky was painted an artificial colour scheme with seemingly no stars to be seen.

It reminded me of everything I love about the farming life that I've had the pleasure of living in. All the memories seemed to come flooding back to me of all those moments that I loved the most; going with Dad late at night to check the calving mob, wearing pajamas and gumboots, torch in hand and walking around all the beautiful sleeping animals that almost literally made our lives tick. Seeing the cows that I raised, giving birth to the next generation - watching the calves take their first steps in a world where they are so important. Having the knowledge that I would be the one to help raise them just right, so in two years time I'd see it happen all over again with that same feeling of pride.

Shifting cows in the middle of a dry summer, dressed in all the seasonal essentials - only for it to spontaneously pour with rain, getting us absolutely soaked to the bone, yet I just couldn't stop laughing.

Watching your favourite calves grow up and mature, seeing the glint of mischief in their eyes as heifers and in later years when they're much older they'll still look you dead in the eyes, a glimmer of curiosity and knowledge brewing, with their ears pricked forward, because they know exactly who you are - they'll never forget.

By now you're probably thinking that I must be a little delusional upon writing this, but I can promise you that I'm not. For quite a while I've been thinking, who am I? Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do? I have had so many people around me tell me what I should be doing, where I should be going and who I should be. Confusing me to the extremes, making me think that I had no options, that I was stuck in a rut.

But last night, standing outside, all alone except for my Pippa and the chilly Northland air, I realised. I'm staring it straight in the face. I'm already where I'm meant to be, this isn't a rut this is a niche. In farming it seems like there are so many lows, that there is nothing other than endless hard work and stress and so many think they need to find a way out - that there is no escape.
However as a good friend and I recently discussed, life is only as good as you make it. It is not the industry that is the problem, it is the mindset of the people within it. It is not the industry that is somehow proving to some and not others that it is a worthwhile place to be in, it is the people, the animals, the feelings of pride and success that keeps it going. It is the environment itself.


I didn't know where I was going because I am already here, I am one of the lucky ones with all my opportunities spread out at my fingertips. I am in this industry and this is where I'll stay - because there honestly is no place else quite the same.