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I spent last night talking with the wonderful proprietor of Fieldstone Farm about purchasing some purebred Scottish Highland cattle. Every couple of minutes I was faced with a new accessory. Automatic Water feeder (requiring buried water pipes). Cattle chute. Round hay bales (requires tractor to move). Hoof trimmings. Vet visits. Cattle trailer. Psychiatrist (for me, not the cattle).

I should’ve bought a boat. You see, my original plan was to buy a boat and cruise around Lake Michigan. Cath (and to a lesser extent, me) didn’t like the idea of owning a big, floating depreciating asset. Thus, the plan then became finding a condo w/a dock and access to Lake Michigan so that we’d have an appreciating asset and save money on docking fees. As anyone knows who’s looked at waterfront property in the last 10 years knows, that dog didn’t hunt. Apparently, every doctor, lawyer, and CIO had the same idea before me as riverfront/marina properties in Michigan cost more than the Apollo program.

In looking at those properties, however, I found that we *could* afford a small farm. The rest, as they say, is the currently narrated disaster.

Supposedly, a farm – real estate in general – is an appreciating asset. The problem with a farm is the huge investment in capital equipment required to make one work. I have a tiny little postage stamp size farm. I don’t need anything like the $500,000 tractors and equipment like on a big industrial farm. Even hobby farms need things though. Things they don’t need in Wicker Park. Like cattle chutes and sprayers and gravity wagons. I’m still not sure what that last one is, but it sounds like a Science Fiction term rather than what it probably is.

This probably explains why most of the landowners I’ve met out here are hunters and not small farmers. Capital equipment required to be a hunter: a $500 Ruger Super 7 deer rifle, $10 orange safety hat, $20 bottle of Jack Daniels. One purebred Scottish Highland heifer? $1250. Which do you think makes a cheaper pastime?

Of course, one could theoretically make money or break even on a pastime like cattle breeding. Around here, there are tons of horse farms. Even I think those people are nuts. Horses are tons of work. You have to really love them. Me? I just want cheap steak. The point is that horses can make real money if you get lucky. Cattle? Well, I hope to break even some year. Until then, I just hope all their hair doesn’t fall out due to a selenium deficiency. All the neighbors would point and laugh at my bald cattle. I’d have to go buy cow toupees to hide my incompetence. Just add that to the list.

I made the plunge tonight and contacted two local farms about purchasing cattle. I’d been scouring the country for mini-herefords and finally threw in the towel when I found that there were three or four farms around here that raise Scottish Highlands. They look like Old English Sheep Cattle. Lots of hair over the eyes. More important is their relatively (750+ lbs) diminuative stature. I don’t know enough about cattle to want full size ones stepping on my feet. Or my kids. I’d never hear the end of how I brought everyone out to the country and then had cattle step on the kids’ feet.

In any case, I’ve been putting it off because it’s such a big step. Chickens? No problem. Eight chickens isn’t a commitment. Its not even a lunch rush at KFC. But cattle…that’s different. Nothing says “Oops” like a giant bloated cow carcass in your front pasture. I have images of the chainsaw scene in Animal House. Not a great way to impress the neighbors. I suppose I could blow it up, like the Oregon Highway Dept. tried to do with a whale. That’d be spectacular *and* ineffective.

Thus, it was with great trepidation and much consulting of Storey’s Guide to Raising Beef Cattle that I typed up a short email that (hopefully) didn’t make me sound like an utter greenhorn.

Dear Sir or Madam,

I’d like to buy one of your cow thingies. Young female cow thingies. I believe these are called Herefords or heifers or something. I’m not sure if I want to breed them or eat them, so hopefully you have both kinds available. Also, I have no trailer to transport them here and will willingly swallow whatever crap you tell me about why they are so thin and sick looking. Did I mention I just moved to the country from Chicago? Everything is expensive there so be sure to overcharge me. Contact me at the number below.

Yeah. I’m sure that’ll go over well. I’ll keep everyone posted. I still need to get the electric fence charger up and working as well as figuring out where I can get a water trough. And a chainsaw, in case things go bad.

On the brighter side, I confess to ordering more poultry as well. The Javas are working out great, but the ticks are bad this year so I figured I’d get some Guinea Fowl. I have no idea if you can eat them or not. They look like the Partridge Family birds. Or should. I ordered the “Factory Choice Assortment” because I could care less if they look like blimps with beaks. They eat ticks and (supposedly) require minimal care.

Baby guinea fowl are called “keets”. This is to confuse the hell out of freshly minted poultrymen like myself. Baby turkeys, of which I ordered two, are called “poults”. Baby marshmallows are called “peeps.” Ha. I can’t imagine they do this with all species of birds though. Just the ones you’re likely to eat. Still, it’d be easier if they just tacked on “ling” to the end of the adult name, like with ducks. Turklings. Guinealings. Chicklings. It has a certain logic to it. Feh.

Speaking of chicklings, I did not attend the Miss Allegan Pageant Friday night, despite learning that the theme this year was “A Little Bit Country” AND that the award money had been partially raised by a “Contestant Bowlathon.” I’ll never know if the latter counted as part of the Talent Competition. The main reason is that I had alot to do around here. The secondary reason is that Cath couldn’t come and frankly, a middle aged man attending a teenage beauty pageant alone struck me as something that might arouse suspicion in a small town. It screams “perv”, for instance. Ah well. I’m sure I’ll get to see who won at the Allegan County Fair in September.

I’m not sure if listening to Gnarls Barkley and the Chemical Brothers at 6:30AM is going to get me in the Rural America Hall of Fame anytime soon, but this blog is all about that Urban to Rural transition, so at least there’s some sort of context for it. I have a ton of bluegrass, too. I use it to subject my wife to her version of musical hell (8th Circle: Bluegrass; 9th Circle: Electronica) which I did all the time in Chicago, so I am an equal opportunity problem for everyone.

At least I can go to work this morning without looking up in fear.

They arrested a group of Miami-based men on suspicion of (apparently) plotting to blow up the Sears Tower. The company I worked for had its office literally across the street and I had many clients in the Tower itself. I met friends for lunch at Mrs. Levy’s Deli all the time, even after post-911 security measures meant you had to get a body cavity search to get into the food court. Mrs. Levy’s closed right before I left town – not too many potential customers who are willing to put up with a body cavity search in order to get an Open Face Turkey sandwich in return (plus $7.50 and tip). Maybe they knew that the Sears Tower will eventually stand empty.

They can’t give away office space in the Sears Tower right now. No one wants to go to work with a target painted on his or her back. I wonder if rates will drop so much you see light industrial work there instead of office work. It’d be interesting to see the step-above-sweatshop illegals riding the elevator with the CEOs who frequent the Metropolitan Club. That’d be an awkward ride. CEO: I supported NAFTA, you know. SASI: ?Que?

None of which matters a lick to me. Well, maybe a lick, but definitely not a chew. Or whatever. You see, I got out while the gettin’ was good. Over the next 10 years you are going to see a weird flux in American population geography. As gasoline gets expensive, many upper-middle-class suburbanites will head into the cities…unless their employers beat them to the punch and vacate downtowns everywhere in favor of edge cities much closer to the CEO’s gated community in Lake Bluff or Westchester County. In the meantime, rural poor will also be flooding into the cities as rural jobs and the 45 mile one way commutes they often entail evaporate like alcohol-based astringent. Cheap real estate and telecommuting seem like a match made in heaven for a creative class (read: artists, homosexuals, programmers, and anyone with “consultant” on their business card) seeking to exit the city and the metaphysical oppression of increasing numbers of poor and wannabe terrorists.

My peeps, then? No, at least not the consultants. Ew. Trust me when I say that Rural America will welcome the money, but in the end, regret turning itself into an exurban version of Lincoln Park. I always tell my kids, “No matter where you go, there you are.” I stole that from Buckaroo Banzai (aside: is that some kind of 21st century retro Dadding or what?), and use it to emphasize the point that you bring your problems with you. Do you think its profitable to farm 500 acres of corn when the land value skyrockets to $10,000/acre? In short, no. In Aspen, Colorado they have to subsidize housing so their firemen can live in the same valley. This won’t happen everywhere, but you can imagine feed stores being replaced with “hay”-loft studios.

By the time they get here, I’ll be unrecognizable as a one-time computer consultant. I’ll just be the wierd guy with the chickens who’s “been there since I moved in” to the local transplants. No matter. Tonight I am going to the Miss Allegan Pageant at Griswold Auditorium. There won’t be any sushi or valet parking, but there should be plenty of “I want to save the world through Jesus” speeches.

I miss the North Ave. Home Depot. Not the security guard hassling you to make a checkmark on your receipt or the poor schmoes in the parking lot offering to help you load your car. I miss that it was open 24 hours a day. More than once I’d be in there after midnight for some obscure tool (15″ long 3/8″ drill bit) or part (@%*&! 2 1/2″ drywall screws). In grad school I lived across the street from a 24 hour Kroger’s grocery store. The convienience of 7-11 and the selection of…Kroger’s. You could get ANYTHING at any time of day without getting in your car!

I confess to being a possible spoiled child of American consumer culture, but that was cool! Instant gratification of even the most arcane needs. (Full Disclosure: I’ve never lived near a 24 hour game store, but would be happy to patronize such an establishment if it existed.) All of these thoughts came rushing unbidden to mind as I pulled into the parking lot of the Ace Hardware in Allegan and saw a closed sign on the door Sunday afternoon at 3:54PM.

It’s not a 24/7 world here. You have to plan more. I’d already been out to Home Depot (a 15+ mile schlep) once in the morning to pickup parts for my new brooder (don’t ask). I didn’t plan well enough though. I still needed L-brackets for the corners and probably another 1×2x8. I could try to MacGyver it, but my carpentry is not something that lends itself to freeform improvisation. A one-armed man does not play Jazz saxophone as it were.

I like my small town, but the hours are terribly inconvienient. You see people with bumper stickers that exhort you to “Shop Allegan First!”. The unspoken addendum is “if it’s open!” Lots of businesses run 9-5 or 6 (at the latest). The lumber yard and the mower/lawn repair place aren’t even open at all on Sunday. My insurance agent is closed for lunch at (of course) exactly the same time I’m actually at lunch and free to run errands.

All of this is, truly, a small thing. But what if it’s not? What if I was only in town once a week or gas was expensive (still a bargain at $3)? Planning ahead would be the only way to get through. I’d come to town once with a well thought out shopping list instead of making it up as I ambled through the aisles at Home Depot. Or do without for a week.

That should make you pause. When was the last time you did without anything if you could hop in the car and get it? Mobility makes it easy to speed up the pace of life and get sloppy about planning trips ahead of time. I could hop in the car and drive to Home Depot (not located in Allegan, and therefore maintaining more consumer-friendly hours) if I were willing to pay the price in lost time.

We all say we’d make changes if we had to. If some external force made us. External forces can’t make us smarter though. Nor can they erase years of bad habits. I’d start eating right if I had to. I could grow my own food if I had to. I could learn to *insert random discomfort here* if I had to.

Next time I’ll design my brooder before I get to Home Depot, so that it occurs to me beforehand that I need L brackets.

I got my first junk comment today from a .ro domain! I’m so excited. I haven’t posted the URL to any search engines and the registration is private, so I’m very impressed that someone found me. AND posted a crap robot post to boot! Wow. I mean, there are less than 10 people in the world who know this URL and one of them is a spam/troll/hacker! I’m not sure this bodes well in the long run, but if its that easy to generate traffic then I definitely need to start selling stuff. Or sign up for Google AdSense.

In any case, the site is officially facelifted and I’ll resume posting real articles again soon. I’m not sure this counts. I’ll make it official now: chickens. There. I have to have something about chickens for it to count as a post so far. Hopefully, that’ll change soon since even I am getting mightily bored with talking about chickens.