Assurance inspection can test a delicate ego

Probably the best way of assessing farm assurance inspections is to walk a mile in the other person’s shoes.

Presumably, my reaction when the appointment card arrives is similar to a lot of people, and comprises a mixture of annoyance, anger and frustration, followed by acceptance that it is a necessary part of our farming life.

I try to tell myself that inspectors are, after all, only doing their jobs and most outcomes could be a lot worse if a more detailed examination was carried out.

Of course, if a clean bill of health is issued, then the inspector is immediately elevated to saintly status (great guy, really knew his stuff etc), whereas if a list of “must-dos” are issued, then the reaction is more “he must have had a barney with the wife before he left the house”.

Some of us farming folk have incredibly delicate egos

This more negative take on an inspector’s character is often accompanied by several phone calls to farming cronies in the area, questioning the person’s modus operandi.

This is mostly for the purpose of seeking reassurance, since it is vitally important to ascertain that said inspector was just as awkward with your mates. Some of us farming folk have incredibly delicate egos, you know.

Non-conformance

At a recent inspection, I was given a list of minor non-conformities, which stimulated a fair bit of eye rolling on my part.

However, I really didn’t have a leg to stand on, since rules are rules and I was clearly in breach of them. And once again, it is important to point out that, were an inspector to dig deep enough, he just might find a few more expensive problems to rectify.

At the end of the day, having to fill in some pages, sign off an item or two and locate a test certificate are not life changing events.

Pulled

Since no one wants to listen to a show-off recounting their perfect inspection, I’ll guess that far more interest is generated by the common question: “Well, what did he pull you for?”

I was ‘done’ for not signing the usage section of the veterinary medicine book. It used to be optional, but that has now changed, unbeknownst to me. And despite having detailed field records for cereals, I hadn’t filled in anything to indicate that spot spraying of nettles and thistles had taken place.

Again, nothing too arduous, just a photocopy of filled in pages that need to be sent off to NI Food Chain Certification (NIFCC).

Expired

Potentially more serious was an expired sprayer test certificate. My spluttering protests that a local machinery dealer hadn’t been performing this task during the coronavirus outbreak was pointless. At this stage, the inspector was warming to the job in hand, so that mistake was duly noted too.

This is one of those irritating parts of the inspection from a farmer’s perspective

Another couple of misdemeanours were pointed out, but didn’t require photographic evidence.

These were from the cereal part of the inspection, where I had no cleaning records of trailers before harvest. This is one of those irritating parts of the inspection from a farmer’s perspective.

Typically, you draw farmyard manure in the trailer for part of the year, and you power hose the same trailer prior to putting barley in it.

Whether or not you enter that fact on a piece of paper seems ludicrous, because if I tipped grain into a filthy trailer, yet filled in the correct information, I’d be given a clean bill of health.

And I shouldn’t have discarded the old passport book from a few years ago, since records must be kept for five years.

Paperwork

The best way to pass any farm assurance inspection is undoubtedly to have all the paperwork filled in correctly.

Rightly or wrongly, you can forget about quality stock or stockmanship, since animals that are alive and walking round the field seem to be all that is required on that front, and no extra marks are awarded for going the extra mile.

Some people are of the opinion that you should volunteer nothing unless asked, because you may inadvertently say something that lands you in trouble.

On that note, I remember a Freedom Food inspection in the poultry houses about 10 years ago, and the inquisitor asked me if any dogs ever entered the store areas. I assured him that under no circumstances would such a terrible biosecurity breach occur.

“Why then,” he dryly asked, “is there a tennis ball in the corner?”

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