Now, through this series, I want to bring those same farmers into our digital neighborhood. Consider this your invitation to step into the fields with me.

Liberty Farms in Ghent, NY. A California veggie grower turned livestock whisperer, Frankie now leads Liberty’s regenerative livestock program. In this interview, we talk about how a DM from a fellow farmer brought her East, what it’s like raising livestock (and letting them go), and how Liberty’s building a closed-loop, ethical meat operation—while keeping a deep reverence for every animal in her care.

Harri: Hey, I'm Harri. I'm the founder of My Neighbor's Tallow, and this is the Meet the Farmer series in the Hudson Valley. Our first farmer: Frankie at Liberty Farms. So Frankie, what brought you to the Hudson Valley?

Frankie: Actually, my boyfriend Phil—He slid into my DMs. I'm from California and I was still living there at the time. (By the way, Phil’s also a farmer.) He started working at a farm in Pine Plains called Sky High Farm. They were looking for help and had this internship slash educational program. So, I thought we were just farmer friends at the time. Then I came out here and was only supposed to help out at that farm for six weeks or something, but they ended up needing more help. So I stayed. And then, well, love. . . 

Harri: Then you met in the grain room.

Frankie: Ha yes! But I also realized once I was here, it’s much easier to farm in the Northeast than in California because there's actually water. Grass actually grows here, whereas in California it’s all irrigated pasture. And you're farming year-round out there because there are no real seasons. Here we have rain and winter—it gives your body a break.

Harri: Also the earth gets to kind of have a break and calm down. So nice. So what made you decide to become a livestock farmer? Was it that trip when you met Phil, or had you already been doing some farming in California?

Frankie: I was farming in California previously—both vegetables and livestock. I originally started out as a vegetable farmer. It was literally the worst job I’ve ever had (but that’s another story). I was working at a ranch that had livestock and veggies. I did the vegetable program and farmers markets. They had a huge flock of sheep, and there were some bottle lambs. All the old-timer men at the farm didn’t want to raise them—they were over it. I said, okay, I’ll take them.

Harri: Ohh, did you make them cute outfits?

Frankie: No, I wasn’t that creative yet! I was kind of scared. . .I really didn’t know what I was doing. I started with those three bottle lambs living in my front yard. And after that, I just loved the sheep so much. I don’t really know how to describe it. . . they just make me so happy. They’re so special. I love working with the sheep more and more. I just get them.

Harri: What’s the gnarliest part about the job?

Frankie: Well, farming itself is just innately... I mean, we’re literally sitting on poop right now. It’s brutal—long hours, injuries. There’s sad stuff and happy stuff. It’s insanely hard on your body. The gnarliest part, I think, is treating bad sicknesses. Like stinky stuff—hoof rot and things like that.

Harri: I love the videos where they do the hooves. It’s like a pimple popping video.

Frankie: Exactly. It’s gross but satisfying. Like abscesses. It’s all gnarly, man.

Harri: I know there’ve been a lot of changes to Liberty Farms over the years. You’re here to pioneer a new direction—better animals, stronger genetics. What’s your main focus as the head farmer?

Frankie: I’m trying to focus on having a solid rootstock for all animals, especially ruminants. Healthy moms have healthy babies. Plus, considering what kind of animal does well in our grass-fed and finished system — mostly Hereford, Black Angus, Red Angus. Previously, we had kind of a motley crew of cows. We’re trying to streamline the breed we’ll stick with.

Harri: So you’ll finish the rest and keep the ones you want to breed to continue the lineage?

Frankie: Exactly.

Harri: Do you have a checklist to decide who has good genetics?

Frankie: Yeah. First thing: they have to be a good mom. I have no tolerance for bad moms. My favorite ones aren’t helicopter moms. Their babies are healthy and they’re chill —You don’t want the ones constantly screaming for their babies but not feeding them properly. I like the moms who take care of themselves, feed their calves, and don’t stress too much. Also, conformation, feet, and temperament all matter. It’s less dangerous to tag and vaccinate for a lamb, but when you’re doing that for a calf, you’re doing that right there in the field with the mom next to you. I don't want to deal with a cuckoo loco mom coming for me.

Harri: Yeah, us mamas do have our moments.

Frankie: Totally. But I’ve built a lot of trust with the animals. My first day, the cows wouldn’t come within 300 feet. Now, they’re much friendlier and they know me.

Harri: They’re like, “you feed me, I love you.”

Frankie: Exactly! Also, for cows we look at what their udder looks like. I keep really intense records for all the animals to trace lineage and genetics. For example, I had a pig farrow recently, and I had detailed notes from her last farrowing—nesting behavior, appetite, everything. Then I can reflect and look back. 

Harri: I know you transitioned from veggies to livestock. How do you reconcile raising animals for meat?

Frankie: It’s a very emotionally complex job. Some farmers detach, but I don’t. I try not to anthropomorphize, but sometimes it’s hard not to. 

Harri: Like this sheep right here – she wants to be in the interview.

Frankie: Exactly! You form bonds. I try to make sure they have the best possible life. Then I have my own grieving process when we send animals off. I do thank them. But I know we’re feeding people, truly nourishing them. That’s how I sleep at night. It’s also about always thinking how are we going to move this animal nose to tail?

Harri: Yeah, you’ve got the tallow queen here for the cows! But yeah, you’re feeding your local community – I know you have your store in Brooklyn right?

Frankie: Yeah. I also recently made a connection with Columbia County Recovery Kitchen. If we have older cuts or things that won’t sell, we send them there. I give them a list of what we’ve got, and they tell me what they can use.

Harri: Do you have a donation option add-on for that charity in your CSA boxes?

Frankie: That’s a great idea. I’m actually on the board of Slow Food Hudson Valley, and we work closely with the kitchen too. I love any chance to connect the dots with the farm community where I can.

Harri: Do you work with local restaurants?

Frankie: Not yet. Building those relationships takes time. Plus, grass-fed beef takes two years to finish. We’ve got animals finishing now, and once we tighten our calving and lambing windows, we’ll be able to plan better.

Harri: So you’ve got sheep, pigs, and cows here at Liberty Farms. What’s your favorite animal?

Frankie: Sheep. Always. They’re beautiful, iconic queens and the lambies are so cute. But they’re also the hardest. They don’t show they’re sick until they’re literally about to croak. You need a trained eye to see who is and isn’t doing well.

Harri: What kind of sheep do you have? And do they need to be shorn?

Frankie: Mostly White Dorpers, which are hair sheep. But we have some Tex genetics still, so some need to be shorn. As they age, they don’t shed as well, so we help them out.

Harri: Let’s talk the nose to tail approach. I use your byproduct to make tallow. When people ask, “How can you kill that animal?” while eating a cheeseburger. . .it’s frustrating. . .

Frankie: You definitely should know your farms, but I do give people the benefit of the doubt — I grew up in Orange County. I didn’t know this life existed. You see factory farm videos and think that’s how all meat is raised. But I have a degree in environmental science. We’re working on carbon sequestration, and we do things differently here. 

Harri: Has working on a farm changed your view of life and death?

Frankie: I have a weird relationship with death. My dad died suddenly when I was 16, so I went through a crazy grief cycle as a teenager. I do think it made me more empathetic. It helps me be a better farmer. You know life is short so you might as well do something you love that’s meaningful. This job makes you feel things. I mean, every time a baby is born, I tear up. It’s meaningful. You’re not in it for the money. You’re in it because it’s real.

Harri: Talking about money, Liberty has some financial backing (I know it can be difficult for people that want to raise meat to enter the market) — do you think that’s given you guys a leg up in the agriculture community?

Frankie: Definitely. Mark Cheffo, the owner, buys farms that have gone out of business and restores them. It keeps land agricultural, which is cool. We’re preserving something for the next generation, even if it’s not Liberty Farm in 100 years.

Harri: There’s been a lot of putting animals on pasture with solar operations around here lately. What do you think?

Frankie: I think it’s a cool opportunity—especially for small or hobby farms. You can contract graze without owning infrastructure. I think it’s best for market animal situations and for finishing animals if you have the means. And the landowners get tax breaks too.

Harri: So tell me about the stores in Ghent and Park Slope.

Frankie: I haven’t been to the Brooklyn store yet, but we’re planning a Meet the Farmer event there. It features Hudson Valley vendors, our meat and produce, and it’s our vegetable CSA pickup point.

Harri: Any plans for meat CSA? Or is it harder because people in the city don’t have big freezers?

Frankie: Eventually I’d love to offer half and whole animals. But we just need consistent production first. 

Harri: Also I could see for a New York City consumer, it would be great to buy the meat CSA but pick it up weekly with their vegetables. It’d also help educate people on how to cook different cuts too. So, what’s next for Liberty Farms?

Frankie: We’re opening another store here. It'll be a destination where people can walk around and see the animals. Other than that just building systems—grazing plans, reseeding pastures, growing our own hay. We’re maintaining a closed loop: raising replacements from our own herd and flock. 

Harri: That’s one thing I love about our partnership. I love our tallow loop—you sell us the byproduct, we make tallow, and sell some back at wholesale. You guys make money twice and we make money - it’s win-win.

Frankie: Yes, it’s a relationship! 

Harri: Exactly! And I think more people should meet their farmers. That’s why we’re doing this! One farmer a week—until I pop.

Frankie: You can do it right here in the barn - barn birth, ha, let’s go!