We had almost 2 inches of rain on Thursday.
The cows arrived on Friday. They were less than thrilled about the whole moving experience and within 10 minutes, three of the five cows had found the highest bit of electric wire and managed to get under it. Mr. B. and I took off after them. Mr. B. put our 2.5 year old in the “baby backpack” and high-tailed it across the very muddy adjoining fields. The cows were off our property, heading for who knows where. I was running across the field also.
Now I’m sure it was obvious to anyone who was watching that neither of us knew anything about cattle, and any time we tried to run or walk faster those cows would start running too. I have no idea where they were going, but the corn and beans around us are all still miniscule and so there wasn’t really anything for the cows to stop and eat. Since this is a family website, I won’t mention all the epithets for the cows that were going through my head at this point. The thought of the rather large amount of cash we had just shelled out for these creatures, the knowledge that two of them were still back there unsupervised and maybe getting out as well (we lowered the fence right away, but I had no idea how seriously they would try to join the herd) and the sight of large cow feet stomping through the mud and tearing up my neighbors’ crops were combining to make me totally miserable. Also there was the adrenalin rushing through my body as I tried as hard as I could not to lose my shoes in the mud. I remember praying, “PLEASE GOD HELP US CATCH THESE COWS!!”
In a feat of superhuman strength, running (or walking as fast as he could) through the mud, with an extra 30 lbs or so on his back, Mr. B. was able to get in front of the cows and get them to turn back.
We kept on our journey. The cows retraced their steps, went back into the pasture (but still outside the wire), into our yard, back across the street into the other neighbors’ soybeans, all over the place. A few times they tried to get back in and rejoin the two steers who had not escaped. A steer got back under the fence and rejoined his brothers, but the 2 heifers were too big and just got shocked by the fence and got even madder than they already were.
After about 2 hours of this delightful adventure, our 2.5 year old was ready for lunch and a nap. I brought him in the house and started calling everyone I could think of on the phone. My first call was to my farm mentor, who tipped us from the point of “thinking about cows” to “getting cows” this year. He gave me some suggestions of what not to do, and said if they were still out the next day we’d have to find someone with a rodeo hobby to come out and rope them. I called our neighbor with horses to see if he knew any rodeo types, but he wasn’t home. After that I figured I’d better call Farmer Y, who rents our land, since the cows were out there stomping on his crop.
Farmer Y and his family kindly agreed to help. I called Mr. B., who was still out in the field with the cows, and let him know they were on the way. The cows were more tired now and were back in our pasture eating the nice long grass, but were still *outside* of their electric fence. Farmer Y, his dad, and his grandfather came over with two trucks and a rope. I was in the house getting the child to take a nap at this point. Once he was asleep I went out to see what was going on and if I could be of help. The cows were still out with Mr B, Farmer Y, and Farmer Y Senior herding them around. Grandpa was keeping his distance and just watching everything unfold. They’d made one unsuccessful attempt to corner the recalcitrant heifers back into the fence, but had failed.
I went back inside and got on the phone to see if I could find more help. I won’t mention all the people I talked to, but I was on hold for the Animal Control officer when the men came back in and said they had gotten the cows back in. The cows had been out for a little more than 4 hours.
We had nice farmer chat and a drink out in the driveway afterwards, mostly about what a wet year this was. Grandpa said it wasn’t as bad as 1974, when he didn’t get his corn in until the end of June and then didn’t get anything for his effort. When talking to the three generations of family farmers, I noticed even more than usual what newcomers Mr. B. and I are to this area and to farming, and how different we are from the “normal” farmers in this area.
The cows are doing fine, and are staying in their fence, and are getting the hang of rotational grazing. We are doing our best to befriend them so that if they ever escape again it will be easier. Now that we’re not chasing them all over the county, the cattle are actually less work than chickens- they feed themselves!
The other day, several chickens were huddled in a corner of their pen. I don’t remember what the occasion was, whether it was raining, or if we were mowing, or what. Regardless, there were about three or four chickens packed into the corner between their house and the fence.
Dinner time was coming up, so I headed up to the house to start making dinner, and as I walked past the chickens’ area, I noticed three pullets pecking at something in the corner. It looked like there was some blood, so I rushed in to see what was going on.
The arrangement was like this: One araucana was laying down in the corner, apparently thinking that it was dead. A delaware was half-lying on top of it, with one of its feet caught in the fence, so its leg was stretched way out behind it. Three other pullets were busily attempting to help free the delaware from the fence. Their chosen method: amputation.
My investigation had stirred things up, so the pecking had stopped. I freed the delaware, and tried to pick her up, but she started pecking at me, so I put her down. I picked up the araucana and told her that she was still alive. She was pleased and ran off to join the flock.
The bloodied delaware had also tried to rejoin the flock, but one of the other pullets was chasing her around, trying to peck at her wound. So I had to be a chicken rescue squad to rescue the chicken from another chicken rescue squad.
Now the damaged delaware is isolated so she’ll have a chance to recover. She is quite dismayed at being separated from the rest of the chickens, and every evening at dusk she gets antsy, wanting to go get into the house with the rest of the pullets. And she’ll get her wish … in a week or so.
Warm weather came for a few days and we were very glad. The seed-starting house is overflowing, with trays and pots on the floor as well as the benches.
We planted the first brassicas outdoors, under plastic mulch, two weekends ago. The drip irrigation has been sort of shoved out into the field in a very disorderly fashion to water them. This weekend I made a few experimental passes with the cultivator. A few hundred onions made it into the field along with some salad greens and parsley.
The weeds are also getting off to a really healthy start. At the old place my main garden enemies were warm season grasses like crabgrass and nimblewill, lamb’s quarters, a few broadleaf perennial weeds like dandelions and plantain, and the hated bindweed. Here, the broadleaf weeds are less severe except for the unfortunate presence of Canada thistle, but in the annual weed department we have foxtail grass galore with a heavy dose of ragweed- at least two kinds. Someone with more soil science knowledge than I could likely give me some great soil insight based on this information, but I suspect that longtime use of herbicides has something to do with the difference.
I am using multiple approaches to weed pressure this year, based on what I learned from various talks at the MOSES farm conference. First, we are using a lot of transplants. Starting out with a larger plant should help to shade out competing weeds or keep them from germinating. Second, we have acquired cultivation equipment that should allow us to shallowly cultivate around the plants and in the rows in order to disturb newly-germinated weeds. The use of this equipment is largely dependent on the weather. Hand cultivation will still be used on some crops, but unlike last year it won’t be the *only* method of weed control. Third, the area of the garden where Indian corn and pumpkins will be planted is going to get a good “stale seed bed” prep, with multiple cultivations over the course of a few weeks in order to exhaust the weed seed bank in the top soil layer. Fourth, we will continue to use cover crops in unplanted areas both to suppress weeds and to enhance fertility. Buckwheat and oats will be used this year. Fifth, we hope to acquire some livestock to eat down the pastures and therefore reduce the number of weed seeds created in non-crop areas. Sixth, we are experimenting this year with black plastic mulch under certain crops, both for weed prevention and to keep the soil warm and moist. It’s under the brassicas now, and we plan to use it with tomatoes, melons, and at least some of the other cucurbits.
The chickens are prospering and enjoying the outdoor life. Our “old lady” hens have become free rangers now that they’ve proven they will still lay their eggs in their house and come home in the evening. We have a good system for the meat birds (a Salatin-style pen) but the pullet house is still awaiting additional revisions in order for the pullets to have good outdoor access.
We can now add spring chickens to our list of the signs of spring. We have 70 chicks under a heat lamp now. That’s up from 25 last year. There’s one breed that’s the same, and a couple that are different.
Some things that I’ve noticed this year:
Seventy chicks in a box are noisier than twenty-five chicks in a box. The ride home from the post office was … chirpier.
Seventy chicks are a lot crazier, when they’re out of the box. It’s kind of like kids… when there’s one or two, they’re usually pretty calm. But the more kids you put in the same room, the louder and crazier they get. The chicks moved around a lot more. They seemed to have fun running up the hills that lead to their water.
It’s a bit amusing to watch seventy chicks all stand up straight and turn their heads at the exact same instant when your toddler drops a loud something in the other corner of the room.
This morning, it was peaceful and calm watching the chicks all cuddled up with each other, sleeping. I’m glad their party wound down eventually last night, and they got some rest.
I first heard of Prop 2 from the local AM radio station this morning. (When I say “local”, I mean the one (only one?) in the county we live in.) It was during an ag-update, of which there are many on this station. It said that livestock producers were concerned about the passage of the proposition. Producers in the midwest see it as an opportunity — California’s production will obviously decrease because of proposition 2. Oh, sad, sad, day.
I took it upon myself to research this perilous new law. I was curious about what types of terrible regulations had been passed by those crazies on the west coast.
Mere seconds after typing “prop 2″ into a search box, I found the Yes on Prop 2 page. Obligingly, they have the text of the proposed (now passed) law in a PDF. The summary reads thusly:
“The purpose of this Act is to prohibit the cruel confinement of farm animals in a manner that does not allow them to turn around freely, lie down, stand up, and fully extend their limbs.”
Hm. That doesn’t sound that catastrophic, or even unreasonable. Well, maybe there’s some scary stuff hiding behind such a simple summary…
“25990. Prohibitions.– … a person shall not tether or confine any covered animal, on a farm, for all or the majority of any day, in a manner that prevents such animal from:
(a) Lying down, standing up, and fully extending his or her limbs; and
(b) Turning around freely.”
Well, that sounds awfully similar to the summary. And that’s it, other than some definitions and exceptions.
In contrast to the tone of the local radio station’s report, our farm would not be hampered by a law like this. The chickens we have now, even when they’re cooped up for the night, have enough freedom of motion that we wouldn’t need to change if Indiana passed the same law. As we grow, our intent is to give our animals as much freedom as we can (while still keeping them healthy and safe from predators) and to raise what our land can support; in short, we plan to grow sustainably.
I think it is terrible that this type of law is required. But, I think it is hopeful that things seem to be changing in a more positive direction.
The dog discovered the chicks this weekend. No, she didn’t eat any (so far), but one of her new favorite places to hang out is just outside the door to their room. Every once in a while, she whines a little.
So, on Sunday, Mrs. B and I were sitting in the living room while the baby slept. We both heard, but didn’t really notice, the dog whining a little more than usual.
Later, we went to the kitchen for a snack, and noticed that the chicks were quite a bit louder than usual. Strange. Well, we both thought it’d be a good idea to check in on them — it had been a couple hours — so I snuck past the dog into the bonus room
From across the room, I could see that the chicks were all running around their little area, and there was lots of loud chirping. When I got closer, I could see that the loudest one was pinned under the water bottle… they had knocked it over, and one was stuck! I rescued it, it joined its friends in the opposite corner, and things settled down in chicken-land.
Silly chickens.
A couple weeks ago, I ordered some chickens. This weekend, we set up the chick area.
This morning, the post office called at 6AM to say that the chickens were there. I went and got them, and they’re running around their little pen.
We’ve got 5 araucanas, 10 silver-laced wyandottes, and 10 barred plymouth rocks. We’re hoping to get about 10-15 layers, and the rest will be for meat.
