I had a marketing meeting this morning. Me and 125 broiler chickens. Members of the board. Bouncing “jingle” ideas off each other. Well, I probably did most of the bouncing. They ate breakfast. But they seemed generally supportive of my ideas.
I wasn’t really looking for a jingle. What got me going on it was poop. You see I had just finished filling the waters and was wrapping the hose back up. And when a hose has been drug through the wet grass of a chicken pen, you can imagine it ends up covered in chicken poo. Which ends up on my hands as I wrap up the hose. And then onto my sweatshirt, because what else am I going to wipe my hands on out in the pasture?
And that made me think of the people I know that I could completely gross out with that. Hee hee.
And that made me think of the growing number of people interested in farm-fresh foods, raised the old-fashioned way. But most of them don’t really want to have to get chicken poop on their hands (or sweatshirts) in order to have it.
And that’s okay that they don’t want to raise their own food. I don’t think total self-sufficiency should be the goal here. Even Ma Ingalls purchased her calico. Which of course works out well for us, because we don’t mind the poop and we enjoy providing the end product to people.
And because this is a small, local business, our customers are people that are providing products & services to us in return. Teachers, preachers, insurance agents (Hi, Scott!), mail carriers. Factory workers that make socks, which we then purchase from a local store. (Almost like Ma Ingalls and her calico! Can you tell she’s my idol?) The sense of community that is fostered and grown in all of these exchanges is amazing. It’s what makes me so enthusiastic and excited about the Local Food movement.
But back to the jingle. (Finally!)
Sugar Creek Farm.
No pitchfork required.
Who’s your farmer?
(Said in that “Who’s your daddy?” tone of voice.
That makes me laugh. I might be the only one, though.)