I've been feeling the urge lately to expand my blogging focus beyond Howell Farm. So I'm starting a new blog on the topic of "things that interest me." Read it here:
jtflesher.blogspot.com
(Keep reading Farmbedded, too. I'll continue to update it regularly.)
Thursday, September 4, 2008
THE POTATO/TURTLE HARVEST
The farm’s potato harvest program is scheduled for Saturday. If you come, consider bringing a raincoat…
The intern crew got an early start with the harvest today, picking for our personal collection.
During our digging and gathering, we made a special discovery: Baby snapping turtles hatching in the potato field.
When I relocated the four turtles to the vicinity of the nearest pond, I had a chance to witness something I thought was very interesting. One turtle started trudging north, directly toward the water, which was about 20 feet away. But turtle #2 started trudging directly south, away from the water. The third turtle went west, parallel to the edge of the pond. And one turtle burrowed straight downward into the grass. Crazy turtles? Or species-level survival strategy?
The intern crew got an early start with the harvest today, picking for our personal collection.
During our digging and gathering, we made a special discovery: Baby snapping turtles hatching in the potato field.
When I relocated the four turtles to the vicinity of the nearest pond, I had a chance to witness something I thought was very interesting. One turtle started trudging north, directly toward the water, which was about 20 feet away. But turtle #2 started trudging directly south, away from the water. The third turtle went west, parallel to the edge of the pond. And one turtle burrowed straight downward into the grass. Crazy turtles? Or species-level survival strategy?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
EIGHT HORSE HITCH
Saturday’s plowing match went well, but the most dramatic event of the day was the one that followed – an ill-fated attempt to harness together 12 horses to pull some logs.
In the first two photos below, you can see that the first 8 horses worked together fairly well.
But horses nine, ten, eleven, and twelve had other ideas.
From the moment the final 33.3% of the hitch entered the pasture, it was apparent that the horses were not comfortable with one another. The two teams that were harnessed together in a straight row had never worked together before. They tried to bite and push and rough with their unfamiliar neighbors, and it took several minutes for the squad of horsemen in the pasture to get them calm enough to even try to add them to the hitch.
As they did, I asked the person standing next to me to make a prediction. She said, “I think it’s going to be bad.”
After several more minutes, the team of 12 horses and half-a-dozen horsemen were ready to give the big pull a try. Almost at once, the front row of four horses broke away from the rest of the hitch as the wooden doubletrees linking them together splintered. The four runaways whirled and whirled around like a confused tornado, and for just a moment it appeared they might head for the open gate of the pasture fence, behind which hundreds of spectators were watching. A cool-headed horseman ran up and tried to pull the gate shut, but it was lashed open to the side of the fence with a piece of knotted rope twine. Someone else quickly produced a pocketknife, and the gate was secured.
Meanwhile, the panicked horses in the pasture continued to weave and sputter. All at once they collapsed in a tangle of legs and harness. From my vantage point, it appeared that one of the horses got completely rolled over by one or more of the others.
It looked like a bad situation. The horsemen sprinted to the pile of horses and started to cut harness and pull the horses away one by one. The horse that got rolled was the last up, but when he did get up he sprang to his feet. Everyone was okay.
In the first two photos below, you can see that the first 8 horses worked together fairly well.
But horses nine, ten, eleven, and twelve had other ideas.
From the moment the final 33.3% of the hitch entered the pasture, it was apparent that the horses were not comfortable with one another. The two teams that were harnessed together in a straight row had never worked together before. They tried to bite and push and rough with their unfamiliar neighbors, and it took several minutes for the squad of horsemen in the pasture to get them calm enough to even try to add them to the hitch.
As they did, I asked the person standing next to me to make a prediction. She said, “I think it’s going to be bad.”
After several more minutes, the team of 12 horses and half-a-dozen horsemen were ready to give the big pull a try. Almost at once, the front row of four horses broke away from the rest of the hitch as the wooden doubletrees linking them together splintered. The four runaways whirled and whirled around like a confused tornado, and for just a moment it appeared they might head for the open gate of the pasture fence, behind which hundreds of spectators were watching. A cool-headed horseman ran up and tried to pull the gate shut, but it was lashed open to the side of the fence with a piece of knotted rope twine. Someone else quickly produced a pocketknife, and the gate was secured.
Meanwhile, the panicked horses in the pasture continued to weave and sputter. All at once they collapsed in a tangle of legs and harness. From my vantage point, it appeared that one of the horses got completely rolled over by one or more of the others.
It looked like a bad situation. The horsemen sprinted to the pile of horses and started to cut harness and pull the horses away one by one. The horse that got rolled was the last up, but when he did get up he sprang to his feet. Everyone was okay.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Obama on energy
During Obama’s big convention speech last night, this is what he had to say about energy:
And for the sake of our economy, our security, and the future of our planet, I will set a clear goal as President: in ten years, we will finally end our dependence on oil from the Middle East.
Washington’s been talking about our oil addiction for the last thirty years, and John McCain has been there for twenty-six of them. In that time, he’s said no to higher fuel-efficiency standards for cars, no to investments in renewable energy, no to renewable fuels. And today, we import triple the amount of oil as the day that Senator McCain took office.
Now is the time to end this addiction, and to understand that drilling is a stop-gap measure, not a long-term solution. Not even close.
As President, I will tap our natural gas reserves, invest in clean coal technology, and find ways to safely harness nuclear power. I’ll help our auto companies re-tool, so that the fuel-efficient cars of the future are built right here in America. I’ll make it easier for the American people to afford these new cars. And I’ll invest 150 billion dollars over the next decade in affordable, renewable sources of energy - wind power and solar power and the next generation of biofuels; an investment that will lead to new industries and five million new jobs that pay well and can’t ever be outsourced.
America, now is not the time for small plans.
And for the sake of our economy, our security, and the future of our planet, I will set a clear goal as President: in ten years, we will finally end our dependence on oil from the Middle East.
Washington’s been talking about our oil addiction for the last thirty years, and John McCain has been there for twenty-six of them. In that time, he’s said no to higher fuel-efficiency standards for cars, no to investments in renewable energy, no to renewable fuels. And today, we import triple the amount of oil as the day that Senator McCain took office.
Now is the time to end this addiction, and to understand that drilling is a stop-gap measure, not a long-term solution. Not even close.
As President, I will tap our natural gas reserves, invest in clean coal technology, and find ways to safely harness nuclear power. I’ll help our auto companies re-tool, so that the fuel-efficient cars of the future are built right here in America. I’ll make it easier for the American people to afford these new cars. And I’ll invest 150 billion dollars over the next decade in affordable, renewable sources of energy - wind power and solar power and the next generation of biofuels; an investment that will lead to new industries and five million new jobs that pay well and can’t ever be outsourced.
America, now is not the time for small plans.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
THE GREAT PLOW MATCH
Howell Farm will celebrate its 25th-anniversary plowing match this Saturday. The article below appears in this month’s issue of THE FURROW:
Elmer Lapp is one of the great figures of Howell Farm plowing match history.
A lifelong horse farmer from Lancaster County, Pa., Lapp was the plowing match’s first and longest serving judge.
Elmer was judging even when he wasn’t judging,” remembers historical farmer Jeremy Mills. “You’d be talking to him and he’d look up and say, ‘Oh look, that team of horses just broke into lockstep.’ The horses might be a football field away.”
Farmers who knew Lapp remember him as a man who didn’t waste words, but when he spoke about horses people listened. He was considered an expert horseman and was known for his strong will when it came to the job he loved – farming.
Essayist Wendell Berry once wrote of Lapp: “He is not a man to put up long with anything he does not like.”
As the story goes, Lapp suffered from heart disease in his later years and underwent Carotid artery surgery. Shortly after the surgery, his doctor expressly forbade him from attending that year's plowing match, as his health was too poor. Lapp, unwilling to give up so easily, called up his horse veterinarian in hopes of receiving a more favorable second opinion. After the horse doctor proved unwilling to overrule the judgment of Lapp’s medical doctor, Lapp simply decided to attend the match anyway.
Fortunately, Lapp proved no worse for the wear as he rendered his plowing match decisions that year.
On Saturday, August 30, Howell Farm will celebrate its 25th-anniversary plowing match, bringing together more than a dozen horse teams and teamsters. In addition to the plowing contest and the recitation of favorite memories, the day will feature a Howell Farm first—the assembly of a twelve-horse hitch.
It will be Elvin Lapp, Elmer’s son, who will take the lines of a team of 12 draft horses pulling a flatbed wagon loaded with logs. Elvin will also reprise his father’s role as a head judge.
Plowers will be evaluated on 10 criteria, including the depth, straightness, and evenness of their furrow; the condition of their equipment; and the condition and control of their team.
Mills, this year’s other head judge, says that judging the contest can be difficult because often little separates the very best plowers — so many of them are excellent.
Unlike horse shows, Mills says one thing that doesn’t help win a plowing match is a pair of plucky horses that march with their heads held high. “Actually, what I’m looking for is, are these the horses I’d want to work behind in a field all day?” he says. “Do the horses know exactly what they need to do and do they get down to business?”
Longtime Howell Farm horseman Halsey Genung won the first plowing contest in 1984, and since then the title has shifted hands many times. Since 1988, the winner of the match has been awarded the Ben Ellingson Award, a bronze statue of a farmer plowing behind an African zebu. Howell Farm director Pete Watson bought the trophy in a marketplace in Togo in 1988.
“I guess an African zebu might not seem to have the most logical connection to plowing with horses at Howell Farm," Watson admits. “But I saw this statue sitting there in the market and it reminded me of one of the missions of the farm, as well as the people who have helped further that mission.”
Ben Ellingson was a horse farmer from Tennessee and a Hollywood horse stuntman. When he wasn’t farming or making movies, he devoted much of his time to helping train Peace Corp volunteers going into animal traction programs. Watson says Ellingson taught him many valuable lessons, and served as an inspiration for the internship program that exists now at Howell Farm.
“Ben would help anybody,” Watson says. “He helped people in his own backyard the same way he helped animal traction programs in West Africa through the volunteers he helped train.”
Ella Johnston, Ben’s daughter, is scheduled to present the trophy at this year’s match. Brian Hughes, Mercer County Executive, will also help present awards.
The anniversary celebration will feature pony rides, hayrides, a children’s craft program, a pig & chicken roast, homemade ice cream, live music by the Jugtown Mountain String Band, and a plow exhibit by the New Jersey Museum of Agriculture.
Elmer Lapp is one of the great figures of Howell Farm plowing match history.
A lifelong horse farmer from Lancaster County, Pa., Lapp was the plowing match’s first and longest serving judge.
Elmer was judging even when he wasn’t judging,” remembers historical farmer Jeremy Mills. “You’d be talking to him and he’d look up and say, ‘Oh look, that team of horses just broke into lockstep.’ The horses might be a football field away.”
Farmers who knew Lapp remember him as a man who didn’t waste words, but when he spoke about horses people listened. He was considered an expert horseman and was known for his strong will when it came to the job he loved – farming.
Essayist Wendell Berry once wrote of Lapp: “He is not a man to put up long with anything he does not like.”
As the story goes, Lapp suffered from heart disease in his later years and underwent Carotid artery surgery. Shortly after the surgery, his doctor expressly forbade him from attending that year's plowing match, as his health was too poor. Lapp, unwilling to give up so easily, called up his horse veterinarian in hopes of receiving a more favorable second opinion. After the horse doctor proved unwilling to overrule the judgment of Lapp’s medical doctor, Lapp simply decided to attend the match anyway.
Fortunately, Lapp proved no worse for the wear as he rendered his plowing match decisions that year.
On Saturday, August 30, Howell Farm will celebrate its 25th-anniversary plowing match, bringing together more than a dozen horse teams and teamsters. In addition to the plowing contest and the recitation of favorite memories, the day will feature a Howell Farm first—the assembly of a twelve-horse hitch.
It will be Elvin Lapp, Elmer’s son, who will take the lines of a team of 12 draft horses pulling a flatbed wagon loaded with logs. Elvin will also reprise his father’s role as a head judge.
Plowers will be evaluated on 10 criteria, including the depth, straightness, and evenness of their furrow; the condition of their equipment; and the condition and control of their team.
Mills, this year’s other head judge, says that judging the contest can be difficult because often little separates the very best plowers — so many of them are excellent.
Unlike horse shows, Mills says one thing that doesn’t help win a plowing match is a pair of plucky horses that march with their heads held high. “Actually, what I’m looking for is, are these the horses I’d want to work behind in a field all day?” he says. “Do the horses know exactly what they need to do and do they get down to business?”
Longtime Howell Farm horseman Halsey Genung won the first plowing contest in 1984, and since then the title has shifted hands many times. Since 1988, the winner of the match has been awarded the Ben Ellingson Award, a bronze statue of a farmer plowing behind an African zebu. Howell Farm director Pete Watson bought the trophy in a marketplace in Togo in 1988.
“I guess an African zebu might not seem to have the most logical connection to plowing with horses at Howell Farm," Watson admits. “But I saw this statue sitting there in the market and it reminded me of one of the missions of the farm, as well as the people who have helped further that mission.”
Ben Ellingson was a horse farmer from Tennessee and a Hollywood horse stuntman. When he wasn’t farming or making movies, he devoted much of his time to helping train Peace Corp volunteers going into animal traction programs. Watson says Ellingson taught him many valuable lessons, and served as an inspiration for the internship program that exists now at Howell Farm.
“Ben would help anybody,” Watson says. “He helped people in his own backyard the same way he helped animal traction programs in West Africa through the volunteers he helped train.”
Ella Johnston, Ben’s daughter, is scheduled to present the trophy at this year’s match. Brian Hughes, Mercer County Executive, will also help present awards.
The anniversary celebration will feature pony rides, hayrides, a children’s craft program, a pig & chicken roast, homemade ice cream, live music by the Jugtown Mountain String Band, and a plow exhibit by the New Jersey Museum of Agriculture.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
HOT OR NOT?
I learned something from the newspaper today:
The average daily temperature in New Jersey in June and July was higher than it has ever been in the 114 years weather records have been kept.
The average daily temperature in New Jersey in June and July was higher than it has ever been in the 114 years weather records have been kept.
BEN THE ESCAPE ARTIST
Ben the horse continues to inspire. I like his tenacity.
At evening letout last night, Intern Peter and I deposited Ben in the round pasture before continuing our chores. Not five minutes later, Ben teleported back to the barnyard. We found him over near the fence of the back pasture where the farm’s four biggest horses spend the night.
I don’t speak horse, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say little Ben was talking trash to Bill, Jess, Chester, and Jack. He was doing this from the safety of his side of the fence. The other horses looked furious – they were pacing and rearing up and letting out horse snarls. Given the chance, there’s no doubt they would give Ben a severe equine beatdown.
I have yet to catch him in the act, but it’s become apparent that Ben is stepping over a low part of the pasture fence and then going wherever he feels like.
Peter and I decided we’d leave Ben in the tubyard for the night, which has a higher fence. But Ben absolutely refused to go, like a 1,500-pound boulder. Even the appearance of a horsewhip didn’t help.
Peter was, however, eventually able to goad Ben back into the barn.
The last I saw of Ben, he was clipped into his stall with a rope and both doors to his section of the barn were securely fastened. The previous night I had left these doors open. This time there would be no escape.
I arrived back at the farm at 7 a.m. this morning, the first man on the scene. Whom did I spy from across the pasture, grazing contently? Ben!
I proceeded directly to the barn to see what had happened. Inside, Ben’s rope was broken (the third he’s broken this week) but both doors were closed just as securely as I had left them. For the next ten seconds I contemplated the possibly that Ben was one of those vampire horses you hear about who can step through walls. And then it struck me what Ben had accomplished, and I was even more impressed.
This is my reconstruction of the events, which may be dramatized:
After breaking his rope with a powerful thrash off his head, Ben found the doors of the barn impenetrable, kick like the devil though he may. Sizing up his options, he saw his only chance for escape was to perform a dangerous routine of horse gymnastics. He vaulted directly forward from his stall up into the manger where his food gets delivered. Then he vaulted out of his manager, at great peril, down into the narrow alleyway on the other side. Having survived the danger of a broken leg, he turned right and discovered a false wall in the barn (the door from the alleyway into the central area of the barn, which is under construction, is currently a hanging piece of heavy canvas). He pushed through. In the pitch black, he then navigated over the uneven, debris-strew floor and discovered another door that had been left open, leading into the area where the rest of the horse stalls are located. From here, Ben quickly found an open doorway to the outside … and soon breathed in the fresh night air of freedom.
Today, I’m told, the project on the farm is to raise all low areas of fencing.
At evening letout last night, Intern Peter and I deposited Ben in the round pasture before continuing our chores. Not five minutes later, Ben teleported back to the barnyard. We found him over near the fence of the back pasture where the farm’s four biggest horses spend the night.
I don’t speak horse, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say little Ben was talking trash to Bill, Jess, Chester, and Jack. He was doing this from the safety of his side of the fence. The other horses looked furious – they were pacing and rearing up and letting out horse snarls. Given the chance, there’s no doubt they would give Ben a severe equine beatdown.
I have yet to catch him in the act, but it’s become apparent that Ben is stepping over a low part of the pasture fence and then going wherever he feels like.
Peter and I decided we’d leave Ben in the tubyard for the night, which has a higher fence. But Ben absolutely refused to go, like a 1,500-pound boulder. Even the appearance of a horsewhip didn’t help.
Peter was, however, eventually able to goad Ben back into the barn.
The last I saw of Ben, he was clipped into his stall with a rope and both doors to his section of the barn were securely fastened. The previous night I had left these doors open. This time there would be no escape.
I arrived back at the farm at 7 a.m. this morning, the first man on the scene. Whom did I spy from across the pasture, grazing contently? Ben!
I proceeded directly to the barn to see what had happened. Inside, Ben’s rope was broken (the third he’s broken this week) but both doors were closed just as securely as I had left them. For the next ten seconds I contemplated the possibly that Ben was one of those vampire horses you hear about who can step through walls. And then it struck me what Ben had accomplished, and I was even more impressed.
This is my reconstruction of the events, which may be dramatized:
After breaking his rope with a powerful thrash off his head, Ben found the doors of the barn impenetrable, kick like the devil though he may. Sizing up his options, he saw his only chance for escape was to perform a dangerous routine of horse gymnastics. He vaulted directly forward from his stall up into the manger where his food gets delivered. Then he vaulted out of his manager, at great peril, down into the narrow alleyway on the other side. Having survived the danger of a broken leg, he turned right and discovered a false wall in the barn (the door from the alleyway into the central area of the barn, which is under construction, is currently a hanging piece of heavy canvas). He pushed through. In the pitch black, he then navigated over the uneven, debris-strew floor and discovered another door that had been left open, leading into the area where the rest of the horse stalls are located. From here, Ben quickly found an open doorway to the outside … and soon breathed in the fresh night air of freedom.
Today, I’m told, the project on the farm is to raise all low areas of fencing.
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