• Editor's Note Summer 2017

    Editor's Note Summer 2017


    With this issue, I am stepping into the position of editor here at Local Banquet. Before I “retired” and moved from Maryland to Vermont I published a monthly called Baltimore Eats.

    Continue Reading

  • Make It a Wild Summer

    Make It a Wild Summer

    For wildcrafters and other wild food junkies summer is time for the “main course,” when a treasure chest of rich, green, jeweled wild plants adorn the landscape. Wildcrafting is simply the “art” of collecting wild plants for food or medicine, and many common “weeds” are not only delicious and nutritious, but also offer a plethora of internal and external medicines.

    Continue Reading

  • Set the Table with Butternuts

    Set the Table with Butternuts

    The first appearance of their sticky, lemon-shape green husks marked the end of summer when I was growing up, so the annual harvest of butternuts was oh so bittersweet.

    Continue Reading

  • “Big Bertha”

    “Big Bertha”

    Anaerobic digesters (ADs) have been sprouting up on Vermont landfills and farms over the past 10–15 years, with a few even older. In an AD, microbes that can function without oxygen break down organic materials such as animal manure and food wastes, producing “biogas” in the process.

    Continue Reading

  • All Souls Tortilleria

    All Souls Tortilleria

    On one wall of All Souls Tortilleria, a whiteboard is filled with the week’s open orders. Fresh-that-day masa; tortillas for Burlington’s El Cortijo and City Market; Mad Taco in Waitsfield and Montpelier; and bulk masa for Gracie’s Tamales of Waitsfield are among the list of regular accounts.

    Continue Reading

  • Vermont Preserves Unusual Breeds

    Vermont Preserves Unusual Breeds

    As the major breeds of animals in agriculture become ever more populous, farmers are increasingly aware of the genetic peril we face when we rely on just a few highly specialized breeds of a handful of species.

    Continue Reading

  • Q & A with  Lt. Governor David Zuckerman

    Q & A with Lt. Governor David Zuckerman

    David Zuckerman is the 81st lieutenant governor of Vermont, and is the first member of the Vermont Progressive Party to hold a statewide office. He is also a farmer.

    Continue Reading

  • How To Be a Knife Ninja

    How To Be a Knife Ninja

    “How many here are knife ninjas?” After a pause, two or three hands creep up in the small crowd of flannel- and Carhart-clad students. This group from Green Mountain College is a bit shy, but definitely interested. “Great! How about you?”

    Continue Reading

  • Last Morsel—When Worlds Collide

    Last Morsel—When Worlds Collide

    I butchered three sheep today. What does this mean to me as a man educated in liberal arts at Middlebury?

    Continue Reading


Last Morsel—When Worlds Collide

How does a liberal arts education affect life on the farm?

Sheep Illustration by Alexandru Petre

Written on

May 15 , 2017

I butchered three sheep today. What does this mean to me as a man educated in liberal arts at Middlebury?

I had a .32-caliber pistol. I straddled the shoulders of the first sheep, kept its head steady by holding the ears, and then shot it through the skull. What was I thinking?

Strangely, I remembered sitting in Howard Munford’s winter term class on Robert Frost. I remembered feeling sorry for Frost that he couldn’t split a pile of cordwood without waxing metaphysical or cosmic. I wondered how he carried that burden every day.

As I rolled the sheep over, I flashed to the iconic picture from the Associated Press of the South Vietnamese colonel, his arm leveled across the frame of the photo, as he executed a Vietcong suspect. He, too, had a small pistol in his hand.

I actually thought of Joseph Campbell’s premises that the basic question of being human is not, “Who am I?” but rather, “Why does something have to die, in order that something else might live?”

Middlebury has a part in the last two of these reflections. The first takes me back to the national trauma of the Vietnam War and the three-day student strike at the College during the Cambodian bombings. And then to the December night that all the 19-year-olds gathered in Proctor to watch the first draft lottery on television.

The second reflection places me in the folklore class of Horace Beck, and then in his office as he reviewed my senior thesis, which was based on interviews with people who had grown up on isolated farms way back in the hills surrounding Ripton and Bread Loaf.

As I open the belly of the sheep with my knife, I imagine a Vermont hill farmer predicting the coming winter based on the size of the spleen. Or a Greek shepherd bringing a lamb to the oracle at Delphi, seeking a vision of the world beyond as the organs sputter and smoke on the altar.

I cut around the genitals, and the scene from Light in August when the posse castrates the body of Joe Christmas, is suddenly visceral and tactile. Then I imagine myself bent over another slaughtered carcass in the stockyards of The Jungle. My hands are covered in blood.

I wash out the empty cavity with a hose (I am reminded of The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner by Randall Jarrell). I wonder if the hillside where I live once saw flocks of sheep in the decades of the late 1800s, when sheep were the principal animal roaming the pastures of the Northeast Kingdom (Vermont history with Professor Jacobs).

Has a liberal arts education prepared me for such complex acts of life…and death? My liberal arts education suspends me between the abstract world and the real world—not unlike the Greek shepherd. As an educated man, do I carry out this act at a deeper level? Maybe. Do I say a prayer over the sheep, as did the Hebrew Abraham, or as lshi, the Yahi Indian? No.

As I begin to peel back the fleece, the white muscle sheath crackles, I am inclined to think that I, like Macbeth, like all of us, “am, in blood stepped in so far…that returning were as tedious as go o’er” (Professor Cubeta’s Shakespeare class).

The act of sacrifice is an essential act of living. And yet, does my education connect me to this common human experience, or does it reveal the detachment I have achieved as an educated man?

Gary Johnson, Middlebury class of 1973, lives in Irasburg, Vermont.

This essay originally appeared in the Spring 2009 issue of Middlebury Magazine.

Reprinted with permission.

Illustration by Alexandru Petre

Leave a comment

You are commenting as guest. Optional login below.

What we do

A quarterly magazine devoted to covering local food, sustainable farming, and the many people building the Vermont food system.

Vermont's Local Banquet Magazine illuminates the connections between local food and Vermont communities. Our stories, interviews, and essays reveal how Vermont residents are building their local food systems, how farmers are faring in a time of great opportunity and challenge, and how Vermont’s agricultural landscape is changing as the localvore movement shapes what is grown and raised here.


Sign up for quarterly notifications and issue highlights.
Please wait
Home Stories Issues 2017 Summer 2017 | Issue 41 Last Morsel—When Worlds Collide