readease Chapter 22 The Life of a Farm Owner
Chapter 22 The Life of a Farm Owner
Everyone knows that the United States is a major agricultural country and a leading agricultural power. Every year, it produces crops such as corn, soybeans, sorghum, wheat, and cotton, which are then dumped all over the world.
Few people know that this agricultural tycoon also comes from a country with a severe shortage of agricultural products.
Starting in the 1940s, the United States began to mechanize food production, which was further improved in the late 1960s, and by the early 1970s, it had completed the process of fully mechanizing all aspects of cash crops from planting to harvesting. It can be said that the United States has mastered all the skills of mechanized agriculture.
The consequence of this was that American agriculture took a completely rough and ready approach, and American farmers said, "This is beyond my capabilities, I don't know how to do it," when it came to delicate crops.
Therefore, the United States spends huge sums of money every year to import fruits, vegetables, nuts, and grains such as oats and buckwheat, and coffee is almost entirely dependent on imports.
It's like a multiple-choice question: staple food, meat, eggs, dairy, and fruits and vegetables—which one do you want to prioritize?
The United States clearly chose meat, eggs, and dairy, so a quarter of the country's land was planted with corn and a third with soybeans.
In the United States, meat, eggs, and dairy products are so cheap they're practically free, but fruits and vegetables are ridiculously expensive, practically luxuries.
Many Americans may not be able to afford a single vegetable meal in a month, relying entirely on the pitiful few leaves found in sandwiches and hamburgers for their vegetable intake.
The vegetable salads commonly seen in TV dramas are something that only 30% of Americans can afford to splurge on every day in reality.
It's no wonder that obesity rates in the United States have been soaring; it's clearly a sweet burden caused by unhealthy diets.
This also reflects the large gap between the rich and the poor. To put it bluntly but realistically, the dogs of the wealthy eat better than most middle-class people, such as the Arlington family.
"Rogge".
"Woof."
Like an arrow released from a bow, it leaped up and snatched the large apple Ernst had thrown out into its mouth in one gulp.
Whitneyton Farm’s main fruit products are grapes and citrus, but it grows more than 20 varieties of fruit trees.
However, these fruits and vegetables were all for their own use, and any surplus would be sold at a fair price in the town, which is why the Arlington family had a great reputation in the town.
"Good boy, one more!"
Ernst picked another big apple and threw it far away. Then a short-legged bulldog quickly ran off on its hind legs.
Just as he was having fun, a rough lion's roar came from afar: "You brat, I told you to go feed the cows, and you dare to come and wreak havoc on my orchard!"
Upon seeing the newcomer, Ernst instantly pictured the barrel in his mind, complete with skin—it was incredibly lifelike.
John Arlington, Ernst's maternal grandfather, was a man who, apart from being a bit overweight, didn't look like someone who was almost 70 years old.
"There are too many to eat," Ernst pouted, completely ignoring the other person's outburst, and continued to pick an apple and throw it away.
Roger, who had just run back and was squatting in front of him, staring at him expectantly, suddenly bolted off again like a runaway horse, wagging his tail as he ran, as if he had an electric fan hanging on his butt.
Then Ernst felt a heavy weight on his butt, almost making him fall flat on his face.
"You brat, want another beating?"
Despite his fierce expression, he couldn't hide the smile at the corner of his mouth. Everyone at Whitney Farm knew that John's favorite dog, besides Ernst, was his dog.
Yesterday, as soon as Ernst got home, John was so happy that he slaughtered a cow and two sheep and threw a super fun farm party. The last time there was such a big celebration was when Roger had a son late in life.
Arya and Svetlana had complained more than once that, in John's heart, neither of them held a higher position than the dog.
John would always be there when the dogs gave birth, a privilege that Arya never received when she gave birth to Whitney.
"Hurry up and feed the cows. You can be hungry, but the cows can't be hungry."
Ernst rolled his eyes. Who said he could be compared to a dog?
He picked another apple, whistled, and Roger happily followed him away.
John watched Ernst's departing figure, his smile almost overflowing.
Although he never said it to Ernst's face, almost everyone in town knew that Ernst had always been John's pride.
He graduated from a prestigious university and became a bestselling author in the United States at a young age. Now he has broken into Hollywood and become the head of MGM.
As for Ernst's scandals, he saw them as nothing more than youthful folly; everyone has been young and done some foolish things.
At least in town, everyone was cheering for Ernst, as if it were a way of showing off the town's prestige.
In their view, none of the people in these big cities are innocent and they should be thoroughly annihilated.
If you can't kill them, then fuck their wives or daughters to death.
Upon arriving at the livestock area, the cattle on the grasslands had already begun their leisurely day, strolling in groups across the grass, occasionally swishing their tails, looking quite content.
Not far away, bundles of hay were scattered on the ground, and workers were busy transporting and spreading the hay.
Someone drove a pickup truck with professional tools attached, and as the pickup truck drove off, hay was spread all over the grassland like flowers scattered by a fairy.
Although it is summer and the grass is tall, the herders have their own cattle-raising experience and they rarely let their cattle graze directly in the pasture.
Because cows are basically lazy, once they find food, they will not move until they have cleared away all the food in front of them, which will damage the roots of the pasture.
"Ernst, I thought you were sleeping in late because you weren't enjoying the warmth of a Hollywood actress anymore."
A cowboy's joke drew laughter from everyone around. Ernst glared at him, not backing down, "Is that why you can only use your five fingers every day? Then I'd rather not get up early every day."
"You brat, I told you that was youthful ignorance. It's been more than ten years, and you still bring it up."
A burly man nearing forty years old blushed, and the laughter around him grew even more unrestrained.
Around six in the morning, the sun was just rising and the air was still damp. For city dwellers, this was the time when they were sound asleep, but the cowboys had already been working for an hour.
The cattle must be driven out of the pen at five o'clock, and after cleaning the shed, they must be fed hay.
In winter, it's more humane to work as early as 7 a.m., so it's okay.
Yawning, Ernst stretched and said, "I want to sleep, but with a human alarm clock at home that's always full of energy, who can sleep?"
The human-shaped alarm clock Ernst was complaining about was John, an old man with a peculiar hobby: the first thing he did every morning was to stand at the front door and sing loudly.
He boasted that he was very talented in bel canto when he was young, and that he really enjoyed it.
Unfortunately, his great-grandfather thwarted his dream; otherwise, America would have produced a tenor who would have astonished the world.
Whether it's true or not, it's true that it's more punctual than a rooster crowing every morning.
"What should I do?"
"Go scatter the corn, we can do it at the same time."
Simply feeding cattle grass isn't enough; they also need to be fed large amounts of grain. As anyone who has watched American TV shows knows, corn is the best feed for beef cattle.
The corn kernels are crushed by machine and loaded into the vehicle. Then, the crushed corn is evenly spread on the prepared hay using tools.
No one taught Ernst anything; he was a farm kid who did these things all the time.
There's no concept of waste or not; the main selling point is large portions that are filling and simple, straightforward.
In America, there is only one principle in livestock farming: eat as much as you can, as long as it doesn't kill you.