An expert?

What makes someone an expert? Education? Experiences? Distance? It is sometimes hard to be an exper in your own backyard despite your advanced degrees or life experiences. Some people still see you as the scrawny little kid playing in a dirt pile and fail to see you all grown up and in a new position.

Sons and daughters can struggle to recognize the life knowledge parents have accumulated over the years, too. That is until they move away from home or are parents themselves. I remember asking my mom how she knew Dad was the one. She said you just know. I rolled my eyes and thought she was nuts. That was too simple. After I met Mark, I called my mom to tell her she was right.

Dad always said an expert is someone at least 50 miles from home. Just because we operate a dairy farm in Minnesota, my friends back home in Henderson County think I qualify as a dairy judge for the county fair. This is one time where no amount of distance will make me an expert. However, with a show totaling two spring calves, I think I could at least fake it.

Last month, I slipped away from the farm for a college roommate reunion weekend in Indianapolis. It is hard to believe that it has been 40 years since we all lived in the same house, sharing books, stories, laughter and a few drinks. I was excited to reconnect but was very curious when Jane kept asking me about my writing for  Dairy Star. Since I was coming in a day early for the reunion, she and her husband, Sam, arranged to include me in a special event as a VIP.

At breakfast I was given a notebook, a pen and other gift bag goodies to play my part as a reporter for a regional ag newspaper. The anticipation was killing Jane. She was giddy to tell me the secret event, but she resisted until we got to the hanger. Sam works for an agronomy coop, who was putting on a field day with a very special attraction. Helicopter rides with the crop spraying crew.

As we pulled up to the flight deck, we could see the pilot putting the final polish on  his machine. The orange and blue helicopter sparkled in the morning light. Sam may have stretched my truth a bit, but I was willing to play the part if it meant I was going up for a ride.

With a smooth Mississippi accent, Cole greeted us. He was a pilot for VVM (Vertical Vegetative Management) who would be taking us along as he flew the chopper to a field day site over 100 miles away. Since I was the VIP, I got to ride shotgun. All I could think was I need to get off the farm more often.

Here’s what I learned during our hour flight. Cole generally flies without any doors. The choppers are not air conditioned and get a bit stuffy. We were traveling at 105 mph, but when he has the booms and spray tanks his top speed is under 50 mph. He generally flies 12 hour days covering 2,000 acres. The propellers are 60 feet long and you don’t need to duck to leave at the end of the flight. (Think of the opening of MASH as the medics hunch over to reach the patients).  It takes 2 minutes to cool down before Cole can even begin to shut off the machine.

As we scooted across the countryside to our destination, Cole taught us the rules of the sky. Always look both ways before crossing a flight pathway near airports. Planes always have the right of way in the sky. They are also bigger than us. Now I’m starting to appreciate how shiny our chopper is. We look left, right, up and down. We spot a plane flying parallel with us off to our left and adjust our position.

As interstates across our country travel specific directions, so do planes. Odd numbered interstates travel north and south while even numbered are east to west.  Altitude determines the flight direction for planes.

Grassy waterways, tree-lined creeks and roads separated large plots of farm land. The small grain harvest was just starting in the area. It was hard to tell how tall the corn was from our view up above but the rows appeared to be filled in. This was such a great way to see the sweeping countryside as our front windshield went from above our head to a few feet behind our feet on the floor.  

On the horizon, we could see the fertilizer plant where the field day was being held. As Cole attempted to put the chopper down in the designated area, the yellow crime scene tape marking the landing zone broke loose from the posts and starting whipping around the area. Quickly Cole pulled us back up in the air until the ground crew could clear the landing zone. If that stuff got tangled up in the blades, it would not be a very pretty sight.

So, what do you do while you wait? You put the machine through her maneuvers. With the grace of a prima ballerina, Cole moved us across the sky to a grove of trees on the far side of the field. Dangling above the treetops he executed a pirouette as he dropped us to within feet of the crop tops. Skimming across the field we flew until he pulled up at a pivot point to go back for another round. He was so smooth at rising, twisting and dropping that he never spilled a drop of coffee from the mug sitting at his feet. At one point we just hung out above the tree tops, not going anywhere, just enjoying the view.

I don’t know who was having more fun,Jane and I for the sheer adventure or Cole for the chance to talk with someone and to share his knowledge and passion for flying.

Once we were on the ground, it was just like any other farm field day. There were new hats and t-shirts for the farmers to add to their collection, tables set up in empty loading bays of the fertilizer plant, and fans blowing warm summer air in an attempt to keep the farmers cool and attentive to the crop experts as they reported on the latest crop and insect situations.

My instincts as a reporter kicked in as I started to ask questions of  the experts. This charade confirmed my position...crops are not my specialty or interest.  Thank goodness for the experts.

What really makes someone an expert? A combination of education, experiences and distance but mostly what makes someone an expert is a passion and enthusiasm for a subject. Our county 4-Hers will become the experts in their projects as they teach the judges what they have learned through research and practice with their 4-H projects. We’re all an expert in one way or another.

As their four children pursue dairy careers off the family farm, Natalie and Mark Schmitt started an adventure of milking registered Holsteins just because they like good cows on their farm north of Rice, Minnesota.