Can we continue?
The plant in my hometown is closing, moving to Ontario and leaving 380 people out of work. Maple Leaf Poultry announced yesterday that the plant in Lower Canard, Kings Co, Nova Scotia, would be closing on April 24th. Lay offs begin immediately. The plant of over 50 years is too costly to reinvest in. Instead, production will continue out of Ontario. It will cost the plant 8.5 million to close the plant. The effects of which will undoubtedly affect the poultry industry within Kings County.
The pork industry in Nova Scotia is facing serious hardships. 65 per cent of the province's pork industry is in Kings County. Many farmers are considering culling their herds in anticipation of a possible industry collapse. The low price of pork comes at a cost.
I am one troubled young woman. Caught between the satisfaction of factory farming failure and the horrifying reality that without it, my beloved agricultural paradise is economically doomed.
I have spent countless hours discussing the virtues and benefits of free-range meat, trying to convey my understanding of livestock intelligence and worth. As an adolescent, I spent my time working in the local poultry farms. I found that the people were wonderful but the conditions for the birds were, in my opinion, unacceptable.
My perspective of the grim livestock living conditions has only been enhanced by my contrasting positive experiences at my best friend Katie Fisher's farm. Where her family raised the notorious Delhaven free-range foul. Contrary to what most would expect it is far easier to eat your chicken salad sandwich when you've seen what a wonderful life "Clucky" lived, than it is to pretend your chicken never lived at all.
This appreciation for livestock interaction and environmental awareness actually began at my Grandfather's. He raised free-range Herefords (although the occasional Angus, Shorthorn, or Charolois make it into his barn, even a little Beltie once upon a time). I was in 4-H a rural youth program dedicated to teaching youngsters the tricks and skills needed to succeed in a rural environment. It was fantastic, and among my many projects, I enrolled in "The beef calf project". My project leader was the master of the North Mountain cattle himself, and my Grampy's good friend, George Benjamin.
While neither man openly discussed or based slaughter decisions upon their emotional relationships with their bovine friends, I found with keen observation that they too, wise farmers, showed an understanding for each animals individuality and somewhat "soulful" presence in this world. You could most often discover it in their anecdotes; little smirks on their faces as they recalled boss cows that loved cabbage or little calves that were stubborn, spirited, or sad. But it was most apparent every spring as they turned their cattle out to field to bask in sunlight, drink spring water and play.
I also raised rabbits for 16 years. Not for meat, but for… companionship I suppose. My sister Holly put her fair share of time into sheep. We both rode horses, did dog obedience, and learnt from our peers all there is to know about hypnotizing a chicken, milking dairy cows, and the spinal problems of pigs. The most important point to note about all of this is that we both loved our fair share of farm animals, and while not all of them exhibited the same affections towards us, certainly enough of them did that we've become advocates for free-range farming. Enough so that my family always checks with Andrew at the Canning Village Meat Store before bringing anything home.
My Aunt Sheila had a difficult time understanding this requirement. If the meat was to be eaten, what was the difference if it was from the Feedlot or Everett Rand's? But being the loving Aunt she is, she made the transition when preparing meals for her nieces and I thank her for that.
Now that the plant is closing, within my family it is my Aunt Sheila who will be out of a job. Certainly she is a talented seamstress, gardener and hostess, but you simply can't beat the wages of a union job around here. She is one of those CFAs but she is so determined to make it work here in Canning. The eagles are exotic to her and the soil a delightful challenge, and most important, it's home. What will she do come April when hundreds of people are scouring the same 3-jobs-a-day job bank? Go back out west, move to Halifax, or simply fight her way into a new minimum wage job?
So perhaps you can see my heartache.
Valley folk work hard. Out Canning way there are entire families bracing themselves while this foreboding makes their legs weak. I have made it my mission to boycott every company that has abandoned rural Nova Scotia (Take that Petro-Can and Scotiabank!). Screaming about the injustice of the rural being left to rot. But what am I to do about the collapsing industries?
Back during the BSE crisis, my grandfather sold off his herd. George has been swearing he's gonna for years but can't seem to bring himself to do it. The price of beef dropped so low that it killed nearly every small family beef farm in Kings County. The few who continue have done so out of their own pocket with little to no help from the government.
A year or so ago, The Oxford vegetable packing plant stopped packaging vegetables from Nova Scotia. They are surrounded by gorgeous farmland. There are acres of carrots and potatoes that they refuse to process. Aint economical you know.
I want so desperately for Canning, Habitant, Kingsport, Blomidon, Scotts Bay, Cunard, Sheffield Mills, Rabbit Square, DelHaven, Medford, and Baxters Harbour to be a stable place to live. We deserve that. But for all of my strenuous little efforts to improve the world, this is the first time I've ever felt utterly helpless. I can't help Trinity United Church increase attendance. I can't help the little "Cluckys" of the world roam free. I can't help our tourism, our dying Legion, Lions Hall, or Art Galleries. I feel like Winston at the end of 1984, except, Big Brother is the Conservative government and I am accepting that free trade will take away our communities ability to stand on its own feet and there is nothing I can do about it.
Last semester I finished a series of paintings that featured parts of Canning. During my class critique my professor commented on the distinct sense of loss in my work. "All of your work seems to about a way of life which can no longer survive. It's almost documenting something historical and exotic."
I think he may be right.
I'm not trying to be melodramatic. But in a way unlike any before, I grasp the hopelessness of living rural in this country.
