Hamburger

Hamburger

Nancy and I have 40 acres (about 18 hectares – a much more useful measure than acres) here in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. Perhaps 6 of those acres are woodland, an acre and a half are wine grapes, the remainder is grass. This year the rains have been sufficient to make that grass very lush. Mostly the pasture is fescue and bluegrass with some orchard grass mixed in. Some years there is large amounts of white clover, but not this year. In the spring the pastures are yellow with the buttercups. In the fall and winter broom sedge wants to take over.

I am proud of my pasture. I mow twice or thrice a year and let the cut grass lay and rot down into the soil. The only additive is one year a load of lime was spread to adjust the ph and another year a load of poultry manure for added nitrogen. My horses are constantly turning a small portion of the grass into instant compost that adds structure to the soil and I occasionally take my antique weed wacker and chop up the stray thistles the have dared to invade.

For us humans grass is an unpalatable, indigestible plant. My neighbor and I are undertaking the slow process of changing indigestible into succulent. We do that by grazing cattle through the summer and fall on the pasture, turning grass to beef. This year the cattle are eleven young Red Angus heifers and one steer that goes by the name of Hamburger. By late fall the heifers will return to the neighbor’s fields; Hamburger will stick around eating winter forage. Eventually, after a sheltered life, when he’s reached maturity, he’ll be turned into steaks, pot roasts and hamburger patties. The heifers will probably go into the baby producing business creating more steers to turn grass to protein.

It might seem cruel to turn a pet into dinner, even if it is the most efficient method of altering the pasture into usable food. In a way, it is cruel. It is though, farming. It is what farmers do. I, in my part time way, pretend to be a farmer. I also enjoy a good steak on the grill and a cheeseburger with mustard and tomato. There is an advantage to knowing the beef personally, and knowing both what and what not it had been fed.

In the past the first meal from a steer raised here on the farm always included a ‘grace’ said for the animal. We acknowledged the contribution and the sacrifice the animal made. We also judged whether the tenderness and taste of the meat had been any way reflected by the personality of the fellow. Most times it seems that the juiciest, most tender cuts came from the meanest, unresponsive beasts. (There really has been only one of those guys, but he did taste the best.) At this point in his lifespan little Hamburger is shy, dominated by the eleven bigger women that share his field.

We landowners are stewards of the land. We ‘own’ it for a temporary time and then turn it over to some one else’s care. While thiese18 hectares are in my care, I’ll try and maintain a balance between natural and productive. My pasture will not be overgrazed, hopefully not neglected – although the woodland is a bit of that – but also not turned into a factory of food production. The grass nourishes not only the cattle and the horses, but also the rabbits and other wildlife. It shelters the meadowlarks and provides seeds for a thousand other birds.