Everything I know about fashion I learned from my mom. She wasn’t a stickler for rules, and she was really good at letting us find our own way, but I can still hear her voice gently guiding me, “the seams go on the inside, and the tags belong in the back.” To this day I do my best to heed her advice, but I’m a farmer, I wake up before dawn and when I get dressed in the dark, I figure I have a 50/50 chance of having the tag where it’s supposed to be - the seams though pretty much do what they want. But surely the most important lessons I learned from her were the ones she never taught. She never preached about being a good, ethical and kind person, she just was. She never instructed us on how to be a good neighbor and a responsible member of society, she just lived it. She was kind, honest, and true and we learned from watching.

Our chickens, on the other hand, are anything but kind. They can be very judgmental, and anything even remotely out of the norm, they chase out of the coop, beat up - and kill if given half a chance. Baby chicks pay attention and learn how to stay alive. The moms scratch at the ground and when they uncover something absolutely delicious like a slug or a worm, they step back and let the chicks polish it off. Having observed their mom, they quickly learn to scratch at the leaves themselves, uncovering all the food they need to survive.

Sows are extraordinarily patient with their piglets; I’m often amazed at what they put up with – but only if it doesn’t involve food. They are, luckily, very predictable and straightforward, and the little ones catch on quickly. Moms eat first; piglets beware.

Mother ewes are in general extremely attentive, although first time moms sometimes forget they are moms and need a little reminder. Fair enough! The older ewes often lamb on pasture, or in the corner of the barn and don’t need any help from me. But I lock the younger moms up in our “maternity ward” with their lambs for a day or two until the bond is solid.

Ducklings are born knowing how to swim, but they need their moms to groom them in order to spread the oils that waterproof their new feathers. All the moms in the world, however, can’t teach a male duck to quack. They are born unable to quack and remain quackless throughout their lives. I am certain, though, that if I were born a male duck, I’d figure it out. Because what’s the point of being a duck if you can’t quack?

This Mother’s Day, as always, I’ll make an extra effort to honor my mom. I’ll give the pigs extra hay to nap in, the ducks some fresh lettuce (or kale!) to eat, and I’ll do my best to be a good neighbor and friend. And though I know she really didn’t care at all - I’ll look in the mirror as I head out the door just to double check that the tags and seams really are exactly where they are supposed to be.

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