If you've read Foothill Agrarian since it's inception (way back in 2009, believe it or not), you'll have likely read a few posts by our interns. We haven't had interns for some time now, but we were lucky that a UC Davis student, Rebekah Velasco, approached us this winter about doing an internship for credit. She's been a quick learner and a delight to work with - here's her story!
March 15,
2018
My
first ever piece of mail was a postcard from England featuring the image of a
lamb on a foggy rolling green. It had been sent from my mom while on a heritage
chasing getaway with my dad, one of the many tendencies in their relationship I
have long since admired. According to my memory, I was around four years old.
My first ever souvenir was a tuft of wool she had retrieved from a fence post
that was part of an enclosure surrounding a shepherd’s flock. For some reason,
this lifestyle and these creatures reminded my mother of me. Perhaps because at
the time, I was to her a lamb to its ewe. Perhaps it was something more of a
motherly intuition of who her young daughter might become.
Fast forward to my own heritage
seeking escapade, on a bicycle touring through the Basque region of Northern
Spain while on the Camino del Norte, a lesser known approach to Santiago. It
was the summer before I set my mind to finishing my degree, and I knew I needed
to root myself in something profound before I took that plunge. There’s no
describing the way I felt across that landscape. Physically, it was as if I were
home. My body relaxed into it, I blended in, was treated as though I belonged,
and my last name fluttered by me on business signs and monument plaques. At
that time, I hadn’t made the connection that the identity of the Basque people
was so closely intertwined with the raising of sheep. I just knew that it is the
region of my father’s name, and for that alone I craved it.
Fast forward again, to the present.
I am in the throes of my last push to graduate. What led me to study
international agriculture initially was an intense love of plant life and the
soil that nurtures it. Again, likely from an early influence from my mother’s
gardening habit, I have dabbled in plant related careers for the vast majority
of my adult life. As a florist, plants are my art. As a farmer, plants are my
sustenance and income. But as a student, I found myself lost. Early on in my
arrival at UC Davis, I secured a dream job as a research assistant in the
agroecology lab. Aside from the unbelievable quality of the team, the science
was fascinating. After meeting with the lab’s director and expressing a desire
to grow, I was challenged with the task of defining a direction within
agriculture to which I could devote a closer look. I left that meeting knowing
that the space had been granted me to grow, and that I had intentional and
deliberate thinking to do.
It took months for me to come to a
conclusion. I first met Dan Macon as a guest lecturer in my Rangeland Ecology
class. What initially drew me in was his conversation around predation. He was
thinking holistically, and out of the box about methods for control. I found
myself entranced into the pictures that enhanced his presentation, of rolling
green landscapes dotted with sheep, so reminiscent of the Basque country and my
first postcard. His logistics were clear and accessible, though rooted in hard
and careful science. The lab portion of the range class series took us to his
property where we watched his dogs in action, had a chance to handle his
fencing infrastructure, and were able to feed new bottle lambs who his lovely veterinarian
wife had been tending at home. That night I posted a couple pictures online and
captioned them with “the future is coming into sight.” That was my aha moment.
I would focus on sheep. But I knew nothing about sheep.
It
was an act of blind hope and trust to reach out to Dan. I had realized in my
time at UC that its most valuable components of education were in the people,
in the intersection of collaborative minds. As I started to see the light at
the end of the tunnel, I knew it was my last chance to try.
Dan
and Roger welcomed me to Flying Mule Farm, put me to work, and watched. I was
intimidated at first, fumbled with the fencing, and realized how unprepared I
really was. Part of my international (and domestic for that matter) experience
has been the realization that the obstructions of dissemination of information
to the people are a major issue - not for lack of want, but for lack of ability.
The structure in place to mitigate that issue takes the form of cooperative
extension. I had heard through the grapevine that it takes a certain kind of
person to do that job well, one who goes above and beyond the expectations, has
ease engaging with the public, and who builds their knowledge not only from
reading but from practice. These qualities became abundantly apparent in Dan
and Roger as I attended their workshops, was quizzed on my game plan, and experienced
moments in the field that were deliberately slowed in order to make room for an
explanation, identification, or just quiet absorption. I realized that part of
their conviction as partners and as advisors was a willingness and dedication
to point anyone who asked in the direction of a deeper understanding of what it
takes to make this lifestyle feasible.
I’ve
learned more detail over the course of this experience than I could ever get
you to read here. I will spare you the regurgitation. The summation of my
take-away is this: develop a system. Eat it, drink it, breathe it. Adapt it
when necessary. Be observant and proactive. A shepherd, or shepherdess, must
know their flock, keep an eye on their health, be anticipating their needs and
have a plan in place to meet those needs. Like a parent, they must make efforts
to protect and to enable. They make hard decisions, deal with loss, and build
community to which they give and from which they receive support. They step
outside of themselves and assess their own growth and role within the
partnership. They communicate about what risks are worth taking, and what decisions
yielded successful outcomes. They grow ever more efficient.
I
know now that my future holds within it my own flock of sheep. I know that I
will draw from this experience then, and apply what I’ve seen to my own
management practice. I know that I’ve got a great deal of learning left to do.
But I’m not overly eager to arrive at the destination. For now, I’m enjoying
the journey.
Rebekah
Velasco
International
Agricultural Development, B.S.
Class of
2018
University
of California, Davis.
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