My 100-year (actually, now 101) lived in a town where livestock (Ganado) was a way of life. Families were large, and at least one of the sons were destined to work on the farm as a rancher.
Many acres of the fertile land were set aside for the huge beasts, and farms profited or floundered depending on the amount of dedication put into this truly difficult endeavor.
I was invited to the family ranch of a successful "Ganadero", which translates to Gentleman rancher, who also owns a pristine butcher shop in the center of town. In North America, especially New York, we have little concept of what meat and edibles are like in the developing nations. And while the Capital and cities like Medellín are probably more attuned to presentation, that idea is not a central preoccupation in this coastal city. A glass and marble butcher shop with its products meticulously displayed is a welcome, if sometimes intimidating, (to many locals) addition.
Back to the ranch.
Wiping away the tears from the pain of two illnesses I've come down with (the beginnings of bronchitis and something else I won't discuss), I got on my rubber boots and went to the farm at 7:30 AM, already late. If I go again, and I plan to, I want to be there just after sun-up, at 6:00 sharp.
I was received my the rancher's son, an affable and handsome man who studied veterinary medicine to maintain his family's livelihood. The place, like the butcher shop, is also pristine, with a farm house, potted garden and an outdoor living room with a perfectly thatched roof. All great. Walk to the choral, step inside.
Nothing prepared me for the gentle conversation I would have with the animals. A little shy, but quite curious, they wanted to know what on earth I was doing. Their master called them each by name and they followed his direction. (Really? Naming cattle? Of course, the rancher replied. They're all cataloged and numbered, why not name them, too?)
The breed of his cattle is called Huzera, which is a natural selection--not a bred animal. It is a descendant pf the Buhara cattle which originally came from India. This particular group of animals were brought from Brazil (now that's a cattle drive!) and chosen for their resistance to disease, adaptation to heat, and yes, personality. Finally! I met a cow I can deal with!
Otherwise, how could have I been able to enter their space and share the warm, sunny morning with them?
Many acres of the fertile land were set aside for the huge beasts, and farms profited or floundered depending on the amount of dedication put into this truly difficult endeavor.
I was invited to the family ranch of a successful "Ganadero", which translates to Gentleman rancher, who also owns a pristine butcher shop in the center of town. In North America, especially New York, we have little concept of what meat and edibles are like in the developing nations. And while the Capital and cities like Medellín are probably more attuned to presentation, that idea is not a central preoccupation in this coastal city. A glass and marble butcher shop with its products meticulously displayed is a welcome, if sometimes intimidating, (to many locals) addition.
 |
| The laptop is right next to the evaluating station; a little complaint that it could better link with the phone app. |
Wiping away the tears from the pain of two illnesses I've come down with (the beginnings of bronchitis and something else I won't discuss), I got on my rubber boots and went to the farm at 7:30 AM, already late. If I go again, and I plan to, I want to be there just after sun-up, at 6:00 sharp.
I was received my the rancher's son, an affable and handsome man who studied veterinary medicine to maintain his family's livelihood. The place, like the butcher shop, is also pristine, with a farm house, potted garden and an outdoor living room with a perfectly thatched roof. All great. Walk to the choral, step inside.
Nothing prepared me for the gentle conversation I would have with the animals. A little shy, but quite curious, they wanted to know what on earth I was doing. Their master called them each by name and they followed his direction. (Really? Naming cattle? Of course, the rancher replied. They're all cataloged and numbered, why not name them, too?)
The breed of his cattle is called Huzera, which is a natural selection--not a bred animal. It is a descendant pf the Buhara cattle which originally came from India. This particular group of animals were brought from Brazil (now that's a cattle drive!) and chosen for their resistance to disease, adaptation to heat, and yes, personality. Finally! I met a cow I can deal with!Otherwise, how could have I been able to enter their space and share the warm, sunny morning with them?
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for your feedback.