THE LAMBS OF SPRING

Friday afternoon:

Tom, Rob, and I were just beginning to poke into the manure pile with our pitchforks, endeavoring to fill the spreader once more for the oxen to pull out to the fields.

On a hillside in the distance, some hundreds of yards away, the sheep were grazing as puffy white clouds against a green sky. It was Tom, with keen eyes, who noticed that one of the sheep was apart from the flock. Further gazing confirmed what he suspected – a new white speck, much smaller than the others.

Tom climbed the hill as Rob and I leaned on our pitchforks and watched with great interest. When Tom approached the lone sheep, he paused a few moments before reaching down and picking up two tiny objects, one in each arm. The First Lambs of Spring. As Tom came down the hill, the bleating mother kept a close chase at his heels. Tom would stop periodically, allowing the ewe to nuzzle and lick her new young.

Something strange and perhaps wonderful was happening. As Tom finally finished the hill and reentered the barnyard, the giant draft horses in the pasture moved as one to the near fence and then stood at attention, as if each was most eager to be the first to view the new life. It's nothing I've seen them do before. The rest of the sheep, too – all those who weren't pregnant we kept separate from those who were – crowded to the corner of their pen to try to get a better look.

I, too, strained to see. And then there they were – two wooly and wet lambs hanging from Tom's arms. (My first impression, strange though it may have been, was of their resemblance to scraggly white dishcloths hanging damp on a clothesline.) Tom carried the lambs into the sheep barn and we all gave them a looking over. And then we left quietly, leaving the two to their mother and privacy among the straw.

Saturday morning:

A few minutes past 7 a.m., I was the first into the sheep barn as I began the day's chores. The two new lambs were there, huddled in a pen with their mother. Then I looked deeper into the barn and spied two additional lambs – one tiny and white, the other tiny and black.

The smile that surely crossed my face would have been something to see. New life had sprung overnight. For a few moments I lingered there and considered my monumental discovery.

After some time, I thought I'd take an even closer look, so I took a few more steps into the barn.

The sheep I've gotten to know at the farm are at almost all times the most timid and fearful of animals. They run away in blind and unreasoning panic at a first step in their direction. So I was most impressed when that mother sheep advanced boldly to a new position between me and her infant lambs. She might have been a lion, the way she puffed up and started stomping the ground with a hoof. I backed off.

Amazing things all, these past two days. They seem so to me.

HOT CHICKS

The chicks arrived today in a cardboard box. There are 50 in all – each about the size of a child's hand.

For the next few weeks, their home will be a small room in the back of the tool shed, which doubles as a brooder. My role in promoting their survival will be to help keep the brooder at about 95 degrees, the temperature the chicks like it. This will include stoking the coal furnace at 9 p.m. before I go to bed, and hoping they don't freeze before I return to stoke it again the next morning. When so many chicks are depending on you, it makes it difficult to justify oversleeping that alarm clock.

No lambs yet. But they should be showing up any day now, too. And unlike the chicks, they won't be coming from the Post Office. They'll be born in the sheep barn.

BE THE PLOW

The soil was dry enough today to get out in the field again and continuing plowing behind the horses. If you have read either of my previous posts on plowing, then you know I haven't exactly been a quick study. My furrows zig and zag in all the worst ways.

This morning went much better. I would go so far as to say it was a solid performance. Ian steered the horses as I plowed, and we kept at it for more than two hours. A good number of my furrows were still less than straight, but for the most part I was able to avoid the bigger mistakes I had been making when I started to get off line and found myself over-adjusting way too much to the opposite side.

What changed? Essentially my whole method, especially in a philosophical sense. On previous plowing days I was grabbing the two handles of the plow in my hands as tightly as possible, thinking a deathgrip would give me the best control. It didn't.

Today I relaxed a great deal and held the plow handles loosely. More than steering the plow, it felt like I was merely guiding it. When I needed to turn, I found I could give the appropriate handle the slightest push and usually that small adjustment would do the trick.

What have I learned? One – I still need a lot of practice with plowing. Two – don't control the plow. Be the plow. Like in Caddyshack.

BACK TO THE FUTURE

I have been living on the farm for three weeks now, without my cell phone, without regular access to the Internet, and with an old TV that picks up about three channels.

(How do I update Farmbedded? After work, when I have the energy, I've been driving to the Lambertville Public Library.)

In the last two days, however, my situation of technological isolation has changed. First, I learned that there is a wireless Internet connection radiating forth from the farm's visitor center. I tracked down the farm's technological guru on Saturday, he did something to my laptop, and now I'm set up to feed from the signal 24/7.

Second, I've been waiting weeks now for the landline phone number I had been using at my folks' place in Flemington to transfer to a new cell phone. A procedural snafu within the ranks of T-Mobile dragged the process out over nearly 20 days, but now my cell phone is in hand and ready to go.

I wonder if I'll be better off or worse off to have my 21st century communication tools back.

I've certainly noticed the absence of my gadgets. Yes, I enjoy waking up in the morning and having only my chores to worry about. This is the grand, under-rated, ever-fleeting Simple Life I've stumbled into, and it's pretty cool. But after work, after I've showered, eaten, and twiddled my thumbs for a bit, I start to wonder what's going on in the world. What's the latest drama in Clinton vs. Obama, how are my friends in Arizona doing, what's new on Youtube, and what does Weather.com say the temperature will be tomorrow?

In normal circumstances, I would boot up the Internet and surf for an hour or so. I'd read articles from my favorite sites, write some emails, look at Facebook for a few minutes, you know, waste of time stuff. But since I don't have the Internet, I go outside and study the new buds forming on the trees, listen to the birds, and start reading that great novel that's been collecting dust on my bookshelf for too long….

Actually, no, I'm making that up.

Three weeks on the farm hasn't done much yet to change my modern thirst for flashing lights and colors. Many afternoons I still find myself switching on the TV and parking my butt on the couch for half an hour, sometimes longer. All I can ever seem to get is Tucker Carlson on MSNBC, who I think is the most annoying guy ever. But I watch him, and then the commercials, and them him again, because I don't know why. I've noticed that sitting in front of the TV usually feels like the most relaxing thing I do all day, even though there's beautiful, unspoiled farmland all around me. It's like I know any other activity would be good, and that Tucker Carlson is bad, but I need my fix.

I'm not one who thinks everything old and natural is good, or everything new and technological is bad. But I am intrigued now to delve into the roots of my compulsion to have the TV on for at least a few minutes every day. I'll report back.

MEET THE ANIMALS: BLAZE

I've received requests from Farmbedded readers for more pictures. My aim is to please, so today I'm rolling out a new segment called "Meet the Animals."

First up is Blaze. Not only is he a horse, he's the elder statesman around here. At 30 or so years old, his days of pulling heavy loads around Howell Farm are behind him. Now he spends his mornings ambling slowly out of his stall, to the water barrel, and finally out to the pasture. He moves so slowly (the poor fellow has arthritis), that I can let him out of his stall, leave to do other chores, and five minutes later come back and still have plenty of time to intercept him if he's failed to point himself in the right direction.

I like Blaze. He's got presence, and a knowing stare.

THE NATIONAL ANIMAL IDENTIFICATION SYSTEM

The National Animal Identification System is a program first proposed by the United States Department of Agriculture a few years ago that would require the electronic identification and tracking of nearly all domestic livestock – think microchips and computer databases. The USDA's stated motive, as I understand it, is to use the program to protect the American public from outbreaks of animal-borne diseases. That sounds like a good thing – when a disease is detected in an animal food product, the source and history of that animal could be quickly identified.

However…

The NAIS proposal was met with fervent resistance from small farmers, ranchers and other animal owners. In fact, the outrage was so great that the USDA backed off the federal plan in 2006. Now, however, it seems that USDA is working with the states to get components of the program instituted on a state-by-state basis, and again the pages of small farming trade journals are filled with fiery editorials decrying the program.

The arguments against the NAIS generally seem to fall into two categories:

Economic: One editorial I read paints the NAIS as a scheme by agribusiness conglomerates to help themselves look responsible while hurting their competition – small farmers. The corporate owners of massive factory farms support the NAIS, the editorial says, because their animals are born, live, and die at the same location, and a loophole in the program will allow them to give a single lot number to cover their whole flock or herd (rather than tag and track each animal.) With little effort, they will able to show international trading partners the steps they are taking to ensure the safety of their product. And while these big corporations won't have to spend the money to tag every one of their animals, the small farmer -- who can least afford it – will.

The irony in this is that most disease outbreaks occur not on small farms but at the giant factory farms. According to the editorial, the NAIS will change little in how the big factories treat and process their animals. Meanwhile the small farmer raising his animal in a responsible manner will suffer.


Privacy: This argument seems pretty straightforward. Suspicious farmers don't want Big Brother meddling in their business. Microchips and government computer databases aren't popular among the farming set.

Check out this excerpt from a letter-to-the-editor in Rural Heritage:

"I am an anti-federalist, privacy loving southerner, direct descendant of a Revolutionary soldier, and a truckload of Confederate soldiers. … I will not go down peacefully."


Now, I should point out that there weren't any editorials in any of my trade journals praising the NAIS. I'd like to hear the other side of the argument, too.

FARM READING

Half a dozen people have now recommended to me that I read Michael Pollan's bestseller The Omnivore's Dilemma. I have the book in my possession now and will report back after I've made some progress.

In the meantime, one might wonder what other reading material is to be found lying atop the kitchen table of a working farmhouse. The pile is ever changing – added to and subtracted from by passersby – but here's an accounting of the present stack:

- Rural Heritage magazine. This bi-monthly magazine is devoted to farming and logging with horses, mules, and oxen. Articles include discussion of farm equipment, multiple declarations of outrage against something called the National Animal Identification System (more on that later), and a thoughtful essay written in tribute to a dead horse that was apparently better than everyone else's horse. A sampling of Autumn 2007 headlines includes "Clydesdale Extravaganza," "The Misunderstood Slow Moving Vehicle Emblem," and "Rulemaking Gone Berserk."

- Lehman's catalog. This shopping catalog contains a wide assortment of specialty knickknacks and tools. Examples include: Lehman's Ice Cream Spade, Pocket Rotary Hair Trimmer, Handheld Weed Torch. I'm told by a regular Lehman's reader that the catalog is a good place to observe if a product actually exists. If it does, the wise shopper then seeks it out for a more reasonable price someplace else.

- Small Farmer's Journal. Another quarterly, but this one strikes me as more technical and probably more useful to an actual farmer than Rural Heritage. Headlines include "Chestnut Restoration," "French Gardening Part III" and "Maintaining Grassland Part II." Once again, there is an essay critical of the National Animal Identification System.

- Lancaster Farming. Whose smiling face can be seen in a big picture on the front page of this weekly newspaper? That's right, Michael Pollan's. And what was one of the first questions he was asked about in his interview? The National Animal Identification System.

So okay then, what is all the fuss about the NAIS? And why are some small farmers pledging open revolt if it goes through? See tomorrow's post for the exciting answer.

BT

I asked Rob today about the difference between old school spray-on Bt and new school genetically-engineered-to-be-a-part-of-the-plant Bt. (See my previous post for some background.)

Here's a concise summary of his opinion: Spray-on Bt is good, genetically engineered Bt is bad.

Here's a more detailed summary:

With spray-on Bt, most of the spray will end up on the leaves of the plant, not the final vegetable eaten by we eaters, and even much of that will be washed away by the rain and cleaning. By the time the vegetable reaches one's mouth, the amount of Bt we might consume is very small.

But in the case of plants genetically altered to have Bt inside of them, there's no dilution of the Bt. We eaters will consume it in a full dose when we bite into that vegetable. Rob said that consuming Bt like this might not make anyone sick in any immediate sort of way, but less is known about what effects eating these GM plants might have over the long term.

In addition, there's an ecological/evolutionary concern associated with Bt being genetically added to crops. In the case of spray-on Bt, it's inevitable that some percentage of plants will get missed during the spraying process, and that some of the bugs that eat these plants will still get their meal and will continue to be healthy and to reproduce. But in the case of crops genetically engineered to have Bt inside of them, there's no variance and thus no chance for ecological checks and balances. Every GM plant will have Bt inside of it, meaning every bug that wants to eat that plant will either have to evolve, die, or go somewhere else. The effect this might have up and down the food chain is unknown and difficult to predict.

(Okay, that was the best attempt by the non-scientist I am to explain something scientific. Any of the ecologists out there want to jump in and correct my mistakes or amplify on these thoughts?)

Rob said something else interesting during our conversation. He said that in Europe the government standard when it comes to altering nature is "Prove to us it's safe." But here in America, the standard seems to be "Prove to us it's not safe."

C.O.W.S.

C.O.W.S. stands for corn, oats, wheat, sod – the traditional crop rotation practiced at Howell to preserve the productiveness of the soil and keep weeds and pests at bay.

During a rainy snack break yesterday (between coffee break and lunch break), Rob, Tom, and I talked crop and vegetable, of which they are infinitely more informed than me. I asked, "So, sod is like grass, right?"

The commonsense effectiveness of proper crop rotation is fascinating and something I hope to learn a lot more about. I wish I had a tape recorder going yesterday, or a least a notebook, because there were a lot of specific points I would like to remember better. But one of the more interesting concepts was that rotating your crops every year to different fields spaced a good distance apart helps keep the farmer ahead in the race against the bugs. Plant Crop X one season, and the X-eating bugs may find it late in the season and lay some eggs, but by the time the larvae mature, Crop X will have moved football fields away, and the baby bugs will be left with nothing but Crop Y to eat, which they find disgusting.

Similar concepts apply to weeds. Rob said that Howell got away from their rotation one year – not for farming reasons but for program reasons – and ended up with garlic in their wheat. Good for garlic bread but not for a cake.

I also heard of Bt for the first time -- Bacillus thuringiensis. It is a natural soil bacteria that is currently one of the best options organic farmers have for pest control. It is applied to crops in either spray or dust form. The bacteria is toxic to specific insect larva but believed harmless to humans and safe for the environment.

In some of my follow-up reading on Bt on the Internet (much of it from here: http://www.bt.ucsd.edu/bt_history.html) I also learned that many of the Genetically Modified crops I've heard ambiguous but disturbing reports about are genetically modified to produce their own Bt, meaning they are inherently resistant to certain pests. The upside is that these crops require fewer toxic pesticides, which are harmful to farm workers, eaters, and wildlife everywhere. The downside is that there is some controversy over whether GM Bt is as safe as the old-school organic Bt. I'll ask the folks around here about what they've heard.

MORE PLOWING

I enjoyed my second crack at plowing today, although it was a limited engagement – just up and down the field a couple times. It was the ox teams' first experience walking a furrow together. Rob's assessment afterward was that Chris needs some strength conditioning.

A good way to test your soil to tell if it's dry enough for plowing: Pick up a lump, ball it together in your hands, and then squeeze it between your thumb and forefinger. If it breaks apart into many pieces like the Death Star exploding, it's ready. If it remains a pasty ball that simply goes misshapen, it's probably still too damp. If you plow when it's too damp, you can damage your soil structure. (Note to Reader: When I learn what soil structure is all about, I will keep you in the loop.)

You can see in the picture below what plowing looks like from behind the team. Those two handles I'm holding are joined to the plow blade, and if you look closely you can see the dirt turning over in front of the plow.

THE NEW GUY

I'm no longer the new guy at Howell. Tom arrived today and moved into the Intern House.

He seems like a good dude, and in just a few conversations it's easy to glean he's passionate about farming. He left a job in computer programming a few years ago to start learning about farming, and his goal now is to own his own land and farm it.