In the second half of the book, Michael Pollan leaves industrialized corn production behind and examines a different kind of farming – the kind practiced by Swoope, Virginia, farmer Joel Salatin.
Salatin describes himself as a "Christian-conservative-libertarian-environmentalist-lunatic farmer," and, more succinctly, a "grass farmer."
I made a few observations in an earlier post about how Howell Farm recycles itself – many of the crops grown here become feed for the draft animals, and then the manure from the draft animals gets used in the fields as fertilizer, helping grow more crops.
That's a fairly straightforward example of the kind of symbiosis that can take place on a farm free of the monoculture prevalent on many large American farms. What Salatin does is supersize those natural efficiencies by multiplying the elements of his web – he raises chicken, beef, turkeys, eggs, rabbits, pigs, tomatoes, sweet corn, and berries on 100 acres. Most every would-be waste product goes to enrich some other aspect of the farm, and at the core of everything is his pasture grass.
Grass is all-important in this web because it can do something farm animals and we humans cannot – convert solar energy into food energy. Up the food chain, the animals eat the grass, and then we eat the animals. Which means, indirectly, we're eating sunlight, and when that happens the result is usually for the better of all involved – the environment, the animals, and our own health.
Now that I've finished the book, I'm intrigued at how Pollan's comparison of grass-based farming to corn-based farming breaks down into an even more fundamental comparison between a world fed off the sun versus a world fed off fossil fuels (see my previous post on synthetic nitrogen fertilizer for more on that.) When we choose the sun, we get healthy food grown in healthy places. When we choose fossil fuels, we get food not as healthy grown in unhealthy places, but it comes to us far easier.
I'm struck that the same choice now faces America in regards to global warming and human-caused climate change. When we choose fossil fuels over solar and other renewable energy sources, the consequence is that the Earth's natural system of climate regulation is thrown out of balance. And yet, it is those same fossil fuels that provide so much of the easy abundance of modern life – electricity, transportation, and the ability to grow more food than once ever thought possible.
So I'd break the question down even further. Given the choice, do Americans want it easy, or do they want it Good? Having it both ways might not be an option.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Saturday, April 5, 2008
BEEKEEPING
Bob Hughes, one of New Jersey's preeminent beekeepers, spoke at the farm today. I learned:
- A thriving honeybee colony consists of 60,000 to 80,000 workers (females), 150 to 250 drones (males), and 1 queen.
- New Jersey is home to about 10,000 honeybee colonies.
- The qualities of a good beehive location are: Sunlight from early in the morning to late in the day, protection from the north wind, and a water source within half a mile.
- In New Jersey, the major sources of nectar for the honeybee are (in the order they become available in the spring): Maple trees, dandelions, black locust trees, poplar trees, and clover.
- The average lifespan of a queen bee is 2 to 5 years. Her role is to be an egg laying machine -- as many as 2,000 in one day.
- The average lifespan of a worker bee is 6 weeks to 3 months. During the period of a worker bee's life when it goes out collecting nectar and pollen, it works from dawn to dusk.
During the question and answer segment, I asked Hughes about Colony Collapse Disorder, the mysterious bee die-off that was in the news last year. Hughes said the current health of the New Jersey honeybee is "very good to excellent." From 2006 to 2007, New Jersey lost 40% to 60% of its honeybees, according to Hughes. From 2007 to 2008, loses were down to just 3%, he said.
Howell Farm has three hives of its own, all located next to the small bridge that crosses the stream between the visitor's center and the farm. They're easy to miss. This is what you're looking for:
- A thriving honeybee colony consists of 60,000 to 80,000 workers (females), 150 to 250 drones (males), and 1 queen.
- New Jersey is home to about 10,000 honeybee colonies.
- The qualities of a good beehive location are: Sunlight from early in the morning to late in the day, protection from the north wind, and a water source within half a mile.
- In New Jersey, the major sources of nectar for the honeybee are (in the order they become available in the spring): Maple trees, dandelions, black locust trees, poplar trees, and clover.
- The average lifespan of a queen bee is 2 to 5 years. Her role is to be an egg laying machine -- as many as 2,000 in one day.
- The average lifespan of a worker bee is 6 weeks to 3 months. During the period of a worker bee's life when it goes out collecting nectar and pollen, it works from dawn to dusk.
During the question and answer segment, I asked Hughes about Colony Collapse Disorder, the mysterious bee die-off that was in the news last year. Hughes said the current health of the New Jersey honeybee is "very good to excellent." From 2006 to 2007, New Jersey lost 40% to 60% of its honeybees, according to Hughes. From 2007 to 2008, loses were down to just 3%, he said.
Howell Farm has three hives of its own, all located next to the small bridge that crosses the stream between the visitor's center and the farm. They're easy to miss. This is what you're looking for:
Thursday, April 3, 2008
THE OMNIVORE'S DILEMMA, AND NITROGEN
I've now progressed roughly halfway through Michael Pollan's bestseller, The Omnivore's Dilemma.
The book came to me highly endorsed by several of the finest recomenders I know, and so far it has not disappointed. Pollan devotes most of his first 200 pages to the topic of corn production in America, and it is gripping and informative throughout. I consider this a great testament to Pollan's ability. (Time magazine devotes five pages this week to a cover story about corn, and though informative, I feel it falls short of gripping.)
Perhaps most interesting to me in these first 200 pages was Pollan's discussion of the significance of synthetic nitrogen fertilizer. In 1909, a German chemist named Fritz Haber discovered how to "fix" nitrogen – that is, harness atmospheric nitrogen for use as a potent fertilizer by combining it with hydrogen and heating it with fossil fuels. I'm not doing a good job of explaining it, maybe, but the point is that crops need nitrogen to grow, and before 1909 the amount of nitrogen in the soil on earth was limited.
According to Pollan:
"By 1900, European scientists recognized that unless a way was found to augment this naturally occurring nitrogen, the growth of the human population would soon grind to a very painful halt."
A geographer named Vaclav Smil claims (as paraphrased by Pollan):
"Fixing nitrogen is the most important invention of the twentieth century. Two of every five humans on earth today would not be alive if not for Fritz Haber's invention."
This is because chemical nitrogen fertilizer allows vastly more food to be grown per acre, and without it there wouldn't be enough nitrogen on earth to grow the crops to feed the billions of people who now live on the planet. Indeed, Pollan points out, after Nixon's historic 1972 trip to China, the first major order the Chinese government placed was for thirteen giant fertilizer factories.
During coffee breaks this past week, which are usually spent at the farm's kitchen table in the company of Intern Tom, Farmer Rob, and sometimes Farmer Jeremy, I tried to incorporate what I've been learning from the book in our conversations. One idea I posited was, "So, if the whole farming world suddenly went back to organic production (meaning no use of synthetic nitrogen fertilizer), the result would be death from starvation of billions of people."
I'm not sure if that's even true, but conversations that followed soon settled into this related question: "If you're a farmer who thinks it's a good idea to grow food in a natural, sustainable way, but you know that adding a moderate amount of synthetic nitrogen fertilizer will double your crop yield per acre, does it make sense to do?
Tom said "no," but Rob said "yes, maybe" and they're both guys who are believers in the many merits of organic farming. Nitrogen is a complex issue.
The book came to me highly endorsed by several of the finest recomenders I know, and so far it has not disappointed. Pollan devotes most of his first 200 pages to the topic of corn production in America, and it is gripping and informative throughout. I consider this a great testament to Pollan's ability. (Time magazine devotes five pages this week to a cover story about corn, and though informative, I feel it falls short of gripping.)
Perhaps most interesting to me in these first 200 pages was Pollan's discussion of the significance of synthetic nitrogen fertilizer. In 1909, a German chemist named Fritz Haber discovered how to "fix" nitrogen – that is, harness atmospheric nitrogen for use as a potent fertilizer by combining it with hydrogen and heating it with fossil fuels. I'm not doing a good job of explaining it, maybe, but the point is that crops need nitrogen to grow, and before 1909 the amount of nitrogen in the soil on earth was limited.
According to Pollan:
"By 1900, European scientists recognized that unless a way was found to augment this naturally occurring nitrogen, the growth of the human population would soon grind to a very painful halt."
A geographer named Vaclav Smil claims (as paraphrased by Pollan):
"Fixing nitrogen is the most important invention of the twentieth century. Two of every five humans on earth today would not be alive if not for Fritz Haber's invention."
This is because chemical nitrogen fertilizer allows vastly more food to be grown per acre, and without it there wouldn't be enough nitrogen on earth to grow the crops to feed the billions of people who now live on the planet. Indeed, Pollan points out, after Nixon's historic 1972 trip to China, the first major order the Chinese government placed was for thirteen giant fertilizer factories.
During coffee breaks this past week, which are usually spent at the farm's kitchen table in the company of Intern Tom, Farmer Rob, and sometimes Farmer Jeremy, I tried to incorporate what I've been learning from the book in our conversations. One idea I posited was, "So, if the whole farming world suddenly went back to organic production (meaning no use of synthetic nitrogen fertilizer), the result would be death from starvation of billions of people."
I'm not sure if that's even true, but conversations that followed soon settled into this related question: "If you're a farmer who thinks it's a good idea to grow food in a natural, sustainable way, but you know that adding a moderate amount of synthetic nitrogen fertilizer will double your crop yield per acre, does it make sense to do?
Tom said "no," but Rob said "yes, maybe" and they're both guys who are believers in the many merits of organic farming. Nitrogen is a complex issue.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
FARMER'S MARKET IN HOPEWELL
For the past several weeks, Howell Farm has been peddling goods at the Farmer's Market in Hopewell on Wednesday afternoons.
Didn't know there was a Farmer's Market in Hopewell? Neither did I, even when I got there. Until the weather warms up, the market has been conducted inside a nondescript shed next to the old train station, alongside the tracks. Once it gets nice, we'll move to a much more visible spot out on the lawn.
If you want to go, use Google Maps to locate "Railroad Place, Hopewell, New Jersey." Then when you get there, look for our big roadside sign. The market is open from 3 p.m. to 6 p.m.
We Howellers have been selling honey, maple syrup, bags of whole wheat, and bags of black beans, all produced on the farm.
Joining us most afternoons is a local baker (who sells a fine loaf made from Howell's wheat) and also a trafficker of specialty foods – delicious cheeses, olives, and spreads, as well as a variety of meats.
Hope to see local Farmbedded readers out in Hopewell one afternoon. (Produce will also be sold at the market as it becomes available in weeks to come.)
Didn't know there was a Farmer's Market in Hopewell? Neither did I, even when I got there. Until the weather warms up, the market has been conducted inside a nondescript shed next to the old train station, alongside the tracks. Once it gets nice, we'll move to a much more visible spot out on the lawn.
If you want to go, use Google Maps to locate "Railroad Place, Hopewell, New Jersey." Then when you get there, look for our big roadside sign. The market is open from 3 p.m. to 6 p.m.
We Howellers have been selling honey, maple syrup, bags of whole wheat, and bags of black beans, all produced on the farm.
Joining us most afternoons is a local baker (who sells a fine loaf made from Howell's wheat) and also a trafficker of specialty foods – delicious cheeses, olives, and spreads, as well as a variety of meats.
Hope to see local Farmbedded readers out in Hopewell one afternoon. (Produce will also be sold at the market as it becomes available in weeks to come.)
THE FATE OF THE NEW JERSEY DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE
New Jersey farmers gathered in Trenton by the hundreds today to protest Governor Corzine's plan to eliminate the state's Department of Agriculture.
Corzine says eliminating the department and delegating its duties to the state EPA and health departments will save taxpayers $4 million a year.
Many farmers view the move as a slap in the face. They value the ag department as a support system and as their advocate in government:
http://www.redorbit.com/news/business/1318172/seeds_of_destruction_killing_agriculture_department_will_hurt_all_new/
(Although I did overhear one person muse today, "But don't farmers hate the Department of Agriculture?" Another person replied, "Yes, but less than the EPA.")
According to the Associated Press, New Jersey would be only the third state to eliminate its agriculture department, joining Alaska and Rhode Island.
I snapped some photos at the rally, held on West State Street in front of the Capitol. I counted 113 tractors.
Corzine says eliminating the department and delegating its duties to the state EPA and health departments will save taxpayers $4 million a year.
Many farmers view the move as a slap in the face. They value the ag department as a support system and as their advocate in government:
http://www.redorbit.com/news/business/1318172/seeds_of_destruction_killing_agriculture_department_will_hurt_all_new/
(Although I did overhear one person muse today, "But don't farmers hate the Department of Agriculture?" Another person replied, "Yes, but less than the EPA.")
According to the Associated Press, New Jersey would be only the third state to eliminate its agriculture department, joining Alaska and Rhode Island.
I snapped some photos at the rally, held on West State Street in front of the Capitol. I counted 113 tractors.
Monday, March 31, 2008
THE WEATHER ON THE LAST OF MARCH
During the final week of the month of March, lambs started to fill the sheep barn, but the weather remained largely lionish – cold and windy.
When I made my first visits to Howell in February, New Jersey was undergoing what I described at the time as an "unseasonably warm winter." The ice harvest was stymied because there was only an inch of ice on the pond, and the maple syrup season looked as if it might be a dud because it was getting too warm too quickly.
The journalistic wheels in my head were already turning. If the pattern of warm springs this part of the country had experienced over the past five years continued, I might end up with an interesting angle – how would an old-time farm that grows crops in an old-time way be affected by the brand new reality of global warming?
But since that February 9th post, something different happened: It stayed relatively cold.
I wouldn't say the cool weather New Jersey experienced during the second half of February and most of March was extreme, but it felt cold in comparison to the coming warmth I'd imagined in my head. Here's some weather.com data I dug up for my native 08822 Zip Code:
-Number of days in February on which the high temperature reached 65 degrees Fahrenheit, my unscientific threshold for what I consider to be a comfortable spring day: 2 (Feb. 6 and Feb. 18).
-Number of days in March on which the high temperature reached 65 degrees Fahrenheit: 0
-During the final 15 days of March, only two days topped 55 degrees.
-The rest of the country has been experiencing a cold March as well (and a frigid winter overall). In comparison, March 2007 nationwide was the second warmest on record.
So what's happening here? Is global warming receding, exposed as the hoax conservative talk radio knows it to be?
Not likely. One climate blog I read regularly, climateprogress.org, has several posts on the subject:
http://climateprogress.org/2008/03/03/hansen-throws-cold-water-on-cooling-climate-claim/
http://climateprogress.org/2008/03/02/media-enable-denier-spin-i-a-sort-of-cold-january-doesnt-mean-climate-stopped-warming/
The basic theory on this year's cooling, if you don't want to do all the reading yourself, is this:
"The cooling trend through the year was due to the strengthening La Nina, and the unusual coolness in January was aided by a winter weather fluctuation."
If you enjoy conspiracy theories, there's another explanation you might find intriguing. Google the word "chemtrails" and you'll find thousands of links proposing a theory that the U.S. government is already engaging in climate modification tests – using jet contrails to seed the atmosphere with particles that reflect sunlight and cool the Earth. I haven't seen any evidence that makes me think this is true. But it doesn't strike me as totally implausible that secret attempts to geoengineer away the global warming problem are already being experimented with.
Here's a news report that summarizes the conspiracy theory:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=TifmGcYE08Y&feature=related
When I made my first visits to Howell in February, New Jersey was undergoing what I described at the time as an "unseasonably warm winter." The ice harvest was stymied because there was only an inch of ice on the pond, and the maple syrup season looked as if it might be a dud because it was getting too warm too quickly.
The journalistic wheels in my head were already turning. If the pattern of warm springs this part of the country had experienced over the past five years continued, I might end up with an interesting angle – how would an old-time farm that grows crops in an old-time way be affected by the brand new reality of global warming?
But since that February 9th post, something different happened: It stayed relatively cold.
I wouldn't say the cool weather New Jersey experienced during the second half of February and most of March was extreme, but it felt cold in comparison to the coming warmth I'd imagined in my head. Here's some weather.com data I dug up for my native 08822 Zip Code:
-Number of days in February on which the high temperature reached 65 degrees Fahrenheit, my unscientific threshold for what I consider to be a comfortable spring day: 2 (Feb. 6 and Feb. 18).
-Number of days in March on which the high temperature reached 65 degrees Fahrenheit: 0
-During the final 15 days of March, only two days topped 55 degrees.
-The rest of the country has been experiencing a cold March as well (and a frigid winter overall). In comparison, March 2007 nationwide was the second warmest on record.
So what's happening here? Is global warming receding, exposed as the hoax conservative talk radio knows it to be?
Not likely. One climate blog I read regularly, climateprogress.org, has several posts on the subject:
http://climateprogress.org/2008/03/03/hansen-throws-cold-water-on-cooling-climate-claim/
http://climateprogress.org/2008/03/02/media-enable-denier-spin-i-a-sort-of-cold-january-doesnt-mean-climate-stopped-warming/
The basic theory on this year's cooling, if you don't want to do all the reading yourself, is this:
"The cooling trend through the year was due to the strengthening La Nina, and the unusual coolness in January was aided by a winter weather fluctuation."
If you enjoy conspiracy theories, there's another explanation you might find intriguing. Google the word "chemtrails" and you'll find thousands of links proposing a theory that the U.S. government is already engaging in climate modification tests – using jet contrails to seed the atmosphere with particles that reflect sunlight and cool the Earth. I haven't seen any evidence that makes me think this is true. But it doesn't strike me as totally implausible that secret attempts to geoengineer away the global warming problem are already being experimented with.
Here's a news report that summarizes the conspiracy theory:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=TifmGcYE08Y&feature=related
Sunday, March 30, 2008
MORE PHOTOS
To see additional Farmbedded photos that don't make the blog (or to see bigger, higher quality versions of the photos that do), check out my new Picasa Web Album:
http://picasaweb.google.com/JTFlesher/OnTheFarm/
http://picasaweb.google.com/JTFlesher/OnTheFarm/
Saturday, March 29, 2008
THE SPRING TOOTH HARROW
Today at Howell, Jeremy hitched the four biggest horses to a soil-pulverizing contraption called a spring tooth harrow. In addition to being the final step of field preparation before the oats can be planted with a grain drill, it made for a decent photo.
I had an interesting conversation with Jeremy about how it's a lot easier to find a good plowman these days than a good harrowman – likely because plowing is more glamorous, he said. I laughed, because I didn't realize there was glamour in either plowing or harrowing.
I had an interesting conversation with Jeremy about how it's a lot easier to find a good plowman these days than a good harrowman – likely because plowing is more glamorous, he said. I laughed, because I didn't realize there was glamour in either plowing or harrowing.
FIRE IN THE BROODER
On Wednesday at midday, I entered the brooder in the chick barn to stoke the coal fire as I've done many times this past week. The first step in the process is to clean out an ashtray at the bottom of the stove, transferring the ash to a metal bucket using a small shovel.
In order to get more ash to fall down into the tray, the stove is equipped with a tiny lever on its side that operates a grate. The more your turn the lever, the more ash falls down through the grate. Turn the lever too much, and you start to get hot coals in your ash.
Well, I turned the lever too much.
As I removed the iron plate at the base of the stove that holds back the ash, a significant heap of orange coals poured out onto the floor. (Now consider, the floor of the brooder was covered in dry wood shavings that had been cooking at 95 degrees for the past week.) Aware of the danger, I moved quickly to shovel up the hot coals and scoop them back into the tray. My performance was less than perfect, because in my scooping I managed to scatter a number of the coals further from the stove and onto a greater quantity of the shavings.
I watched with increasing apprehension as the wood shavings alighted and started to burn. My response was I think sensible -- to stomp on the flames with my boots. Incredibly, this didn't do the trick. If anything, my stomping seemed to spread the growing fire to whole new areas. I speculate now that perhaps hot coals or burning wood shavings became stuck in the engineered crevices of my Vibram boot soles. I don't know. But the fire was growing.
My next attempt at regulation was to create a fire line of sorts. Using the toe of my boot, I traced a circle in the wood shavings around each hot spot, thinking to rob the fire of fuel. This didn't work at all, and after another 30 seconds of firefighting my blaze was beginning to look like a real threat. All the chicks on the near side of the brooder chirped in horror and ran to the farthest corner, huddling there with expressions of great concern.
At about this point I believe I arrived at the conclusion that I needed either help or water, maybe both. Everything seemed to be happening very quickly now, but here's my best recollection of the exciting conclusion (I'm throwing in a "best recollection" caveat because I know from my reporting experience that participants in stressful events often make poor eyewitnesses):
I ran out of the brooder to the adjacent room in the barn and then out of the door. I called out to the nearest person I saw, which happened to be one of the young ladies who works on the farm. I told her something about finding Jim and telling him I needed help with a fire. (Farmer Jim had been nearby when I entered the brooder, and he's the type of guy who would know exactly how to best squelch the situation.)
Having delivered my important message, I ran back into the barn, located the nearest bucket, and started filling it with water from a faucet located, thankfully, right next to the doorway. I hauled the water back to the fire – I was shocked to find the flames had spread exponentially during my short absence -- and tried my best to deliver a well-aimed splash. The water helped, but I didn't have nearly enough of it, and the fire started to regrow almost at once.
In the meantime, no firemen came running to my rescue. I must have somehow bungled my initial communication for help, so I tried again. As I ran to the barn door for the second time, I found a miscellaneous farm visitor walking past the barn. I sputtered something terse, like "Need help, bring water," and then I turned my attention back to the faucet and a hose lying right next to it on the ground. I fumbled with the hose connector for about 10 seconds as I tried to thread it onto the faucet head in the wrong direction.
Frustrated, I tossed the hose aside and opted instead to fight on using bucket power. It was at about this time that the shadow of Farmer Rob at last appeared in the doorway. He took over the job of assembling the hose as I returned to the scene of the fire with my second bucket of water. As I unloaded it toward the flames (they now covered more than half the floor) some of the water hit the hot stove and sent steam hissing through the air, adding to the apocalyptic dynamic in the small, hot, dark, smoky room.
Moments behind me, Rob entered the brooder with a working hose. He seemed calm in his movements, perhaps even nonchalant. He aimed the hose brooderward and before long the fire was retreating and then defeated.
…
No chicks died during The Great Brooder Fire of 2008. But let this stand as a cautionary tale to all you out there who enjoy using coal stoves with bottom-emptying ashtrays in rooms whose floors are blanketed in inflammable wood shavings.
In order to get more ash to fall down into the tray, the stove is equipped with a tiny lever on its side that operates a grate. The more your turn the lever, the more ash falls down through the grate. Turn the lever too much, and you start to get hot coals in your ash.
Well, I turned the lever too much.
As I removed the iron plate at the base of the stove that holds back the ash, a significant heap of orange coals poured out onto the floor. (Now consider, the floor of the brooder was covered in dry wood shavings that had been cooking at 95 degrees for the past week.) Aware of the danger, I moved quickly to shovel up the hot coals and scoop them back into the tray. My performance was less than perfect, because in my scooping I managed to scatter a number of the coals further from the stove and onto a greater quantity of the shavings.
I watched with increasing apprehension as the wood shavings alighted and started to burn. My response was I think sensible -- to stomp on the flames with my boots. Incredibly, this didn't do the trick. If anything, my stomping seemed to spread the growing fire to whole new areas. I speculate now that perhaps hot coals or burning wood shavings became stuck in the engineered crevices of my Vibram boot soles. I don't know. But the fire was growing.
My next attempt at regulation was to create a fire line of sorts. Using the toe of my boot, I traced a circle in the wood shavings around each hot spot, thinking to rob the fire of fuel. This didn't work at all, and after another 30 seconds of firefighting my blaze was beginning to look like a real threat. All the chicks on the near side of the brooder chirped in horror and ran to the farthest corner, huddling there with expressions of great concern.
At about this point I believe I arrived at the conclusion that I needed either help or water, maybe both. Everything seemed to be happening very quickly now, but here's my best recollection of the exciting conclusion (I'm throwing in a "best recollection" caveat because I know from my reporting experience that participants in stressful events often make poor eyewitnesses):
I ran out of the brooder to the adjacent room in the barn and then out of the door. I called out to the nearest person I saw, which happened to be one of the young ladies who works on the farm. I told her something about finding Jim and telling him I needed help with a fire. (Farmer Jim had been nearby when I entered the brooder, and he's the type of guy who would know exactly how to best squelch the situation.)
Having delivered my important message, I ran back into the barn, located the nearest bucket, and started filling it with water from a faucet located, thankfully, right next to the doorway. I hauled the water back to the fire – I was shocked to find the flames had spread exponentially during my short absence -- and tried my best to deliver a well-aimed splash. The water helped, but I didn't have nearly enough of it, and the fire started to regrow almost at once.
In the meantime, no firemen came running to my rescue. I must have somehow bungled my initial communication for help, so I tried again. As I ran to the barn door for the second time, I found a miscellaneous farm visitor walking past the barn. I sputtered something terse, like "Need help, bring water," and then I turned my attention back to the faucet and a hose lying right next to it on the ground. I fumbled with the hose connector for about 10 seconds as I tried to thread it onto the faucet head in the wrong direction.
Frustrated, I tossed the hose aside and opted instead to fight on using bucket power. It was at about this time that the shadow of Farmer Rob at last appeared in the doorway. He took over the job of assembling the hose as I returned to the scene of the fire with my second bucket of water. As I unloaded it toward the flames (they now covered more than half the floor) some of the water hit the hot stove and sent steam hissing through the air, adding to the apocalyptic dynamic in the small, hot, dark, smoky room.
Moments behind me, Rob entered the brooder with a working hose. He seemed calm in his movements, perhaps even nonchalant. He aimed the hose brooderward and before long the fire was retreating and then defeated.
…
No chicks died during The Great Brooder Fire of 2008. But let this stand as a cautionary tale to all you out there who enjoy using coal stoves with bottom-emptying ashtrays in rooms whose floors are blanketed in inflammable wood shavings.
Friday, March 28, 2008
MORE ON MAIL-ORDER CHICKS
Following my entry last week about the chicks arriving at the Post Office, one of the questions I received was whether baby chickens circulating via U.S. mail is an unusual occurrence.
Apparently it is not.
For Howell's purposes, the chicks that arrive in a cardboard carton each year are pre-screened to ensure they are hens and not roosters. In addition to giving up the benefit of gender selection, I've been told that hatching chicks from eggs here would be a difficult process – for whatever reason many of the hens in our henhouse don't possess the motherly instinct to sit and stay sitting on their eggs.
Even taking eggs from the henhouse and putting them in a poultry incubator doesn't always work. As an experiment this year, one of the Howell staff members tried to incubate a number of henhouse eggs. I'm not sure about the details of what went wrong, but none hatched.
Tom, a retired gentleman who visits Howell often (Intern Tom is an entirely different person), grew up on a large chicken farm just down the road. He assures me their chicks used to come in the mail, too. In fact, the practice of sending chicks through the U.S. mail likely started in nearby Stockton, New Jersey in 1892. Local historian Larry Kidder wrote this informative article on the subject:
http://www.howellfarm.org/farm/animals/chicks/chick_article1.htm
Now, some unpleasant news:
Approximately 18 of the original 50 chicks that came in the mail last week died within three days of their arrival. One got crushed under a farmer's boot by accident, and the rest dropped dead face down on the floor of the brooder from unknown causes. We do know that a Post Office mix-up led to the chicks spending an extra day traveling, and the die-off may be partly attributable to the extended stress of their journey.
Some further harrowing news:
I nearly managed to kill all the remaining chicks in one cataclysmic swoop. Check my next post for the disturbing details.
Apparently it is not.
For Howell's purposes, the chicks that arrive in a cardboard carton each year are pre-screened to ensure they are hens and not roosters. In addition to giving up the benefit of gender selection, I've been told that hatching chicks from eggs here would be a difficult process – for whatever reason many of the hens in our henhouse don't possess the motherly instinct to sit and stay sitting on their eggs.
Even taking eggs from the henhouse and putting them in a poultry incubator doesn't always work. As an experiment this year, one of the Howell staff members tried to incubate a number of henhouse eggs. I'm not sure about the details of what went wrong, but none hatched.
Tom, a retired gentleman who visits Howell often (Intern Tom is an entirely different person), grew up on a large chicken farm just down the road. He assures me their chicks used to come in the mail, too. In fact, the practice of sending chicks through the U.S. mail likely started in nearby Stockton, New Jersey in 1892. Local historian Larry Kidder wrote this informative article on the subject:
http://www.howellfarm.org/farm/animals/chicks/chick_article1.htm
Now, some unpleasant news:
Approximately 18 of the original 50 chicks that came in the mail last week died within three days of their arrival. One got crushed under a farmer's boot by accident, and the rest dropped dead face down on the floor of the brooder from unknown causes. We do know that a Post Office mix-up led to the chicks spending an extra day traveling, and the die-off may be partly attributable to the extended stress of their journey.
Some further harrowing news:
I nearly managed to kill all the remaining chicks in one cataclysmic swoop. Check my next post for the disturbing details.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
MEET THE ANIMALS: LAMBS AND PIGLETS
The lamb count this spring is now 7 and rising. The picture below is a fairly representative sample, with the exception that several of the lambs are black, some are smaller, and others are larger.
Also on the farm now are four growing piglets. They came in on the back of a pickup truck a few days ago from I know not where. From what I can tell, they seem to be enjoying their new home in a fenced area adjacent to one of the horse pastures.
Also on the farm now are four growing piglets. They came in on the back of a pickup truck a few days ago from I know not where. From what I can tell, they seem to be enjoying their new home in a fenced area adjacent to one of the horse pastures.
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