Early Riser
February 2, 2019
Early mornings are my favorite time of day on the farm. The air is still, the sky is fresh, you can hear
the distant sounds of roosters crowing and cattle lowing from many other farms even miles away, and every direction you look, the landscape is picture worthy.But here’s my dirty little farm girl secret: I am not a morning person. Like at all. Ever. I am what you call a certified “night owl”. Early mornings are a special type of hell for me, as I drag myself from my bed while silencing my fifth snoozed alarm and longingly counting down how many hours I have to function before I can go back to bed again.
Now, I have tried and tried to get my body to adjust to an early morning routine, you know, like those folks you usually see on TV, who wake up naturally at the crack of dawn, stretch luxuriously as if they’ve had the BEST night of sleep and have woken up recharged, and then bounce out of bed with a smile on to do some early morning meditating or (shudder) jogging. But, no matter how many hours of sleep I get at night, or how healthy I eat, or how much I exercise, my body somehow goes into the deep sleep cycle at 5am sharp. Right around the time I need to get up and get my day started. I notice many members of my family are the same, they too are more active at night and prone to being overly tired during the daylight hours. I know it seems a bit oxymoronic, a farmer who hates getting up early, but rest assured (pun intended), I still get myself up, go about my day and make sure my livestock are well fed and watered at the same time everyday. And nine times out of ten, once I am out and moving around, I begin to wake up fully, get that energy flowing, and have a productive day. It just doesn’t come naturally to me. On my free mornings where I get up early and (stay up), the best treat is to go outside and observe what nature does at that time.
During an early morning on the farm, you can literally hear the sounds of a whole world waking up. I hear the thumps of my chickens’ feet hitting the coop floor as they jump down from their perch one by one. Our resident rooster, Grey, lets off a series of loud crows to alert the world that it is indeed morning. The sheep and alpacas are out of the barn and walking the fields in soft dawn light, heads down and teeth pulling up and munching dew covered grass. Small birds flit in and out of the tall grasses and shrubs, starting their day in a literal flurry of activity.
You can see the soft light on the horizon before the tip of the sun even makes its entrance, growing lighter and lighter in soft shades of yellow, orange and pink mixed like water colors on the blue of the retreating night sky, until the sun finally breaks over the hills and looses shining beams of light onto the world. Wild deer pick their way through the dissipating early morning fog and re-enter the woods where they can keep out of sight, and all sorts of nocturnal creatures scurry back to their dens to sleep, another night of foraging done.
Frost in the hay field. It was 24° F and foggy this chilly February morning.
In the early mornings you can breathe deep the fresh new air, and embrace the exciting possibilities of a new day.And as much as I love to witness the early mornings on the farm, I realize, I can’t stop there.As I mentioned before, I am a night owl by nature, so I’ve observed the way a farm is at night, and I love that time, too. It is of course velvety dark, yet on clear nights the stars and moon can light up the fields as brightly as the sun, only in clean, clear, white light. You can look up and see whole galaxies with the naked eye, and lay on the grass and listen to the soft rustle of the chickens’ adjusting themselves on their perch in the coop, or the meditative breathing and chewing sounds of the sheep ruminating as they sit in a huddle in the pasture.
On special nights you can hear the soft hoot hooting of a Great Horned Owl, and hear another owl in the far off distance giving a thoughtful answer. On many nights (especially lately here) you can marvel at the cacophony of sharp yips, barks and howls erupting from the local coyote pack. Nighttime on the farm is a time for deep reflection, wrestling with (and overcoming) fears- some you didn’t even know were there, and planning for the future.
I always think about how the farm can be so different during different times of the year, but now I know it can also be so different during other times of the day, within a span of a few hours or even minutes. The bottom line is this: farming truly does bring you closer to the land, to your animals, and to nature itself, which in the end, brings you closer to you. Any time spent in nature is valuable, even if it’s sitting quietly on a hay bale for a few minutes during farm chores, watching the animals eat. Nature brings healing and peace to the body and soul. This is one of the many reasons why I cherish the farming lifestyle and couldn’t go back to living any other way. Being an early riser may not be something that comes naturally for me, but working the land, connecting with nature, caring for my animals- that has always been a vital part of who I am.
Early morning Sunrise captured on a foggy spring day last year.