With temporary tattoos on her neck and temples, rain boots on her feet, and straw in her hands-- the youngest told me about helping to birth piglets. While she talked I scanned the cows grazing in the field's last section of light. To me they all looked the same: faint rib outline and long tails swatting flies away. Pointing to each animal across the visible property, she told me their names and remembered, Brisket was nice... but he was also good to eat. The father told us about how he inherited the farm, the satisfaction of providing financially and nutritionally for his family, but also reflected on the immense dedication it takes to work with the land and animals. Edna, the sow pictured, was due to give birth that night or the next. After we left I realized we had never exchanged names.