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went a little crazy with ordering flower bulbs for a birthday present to myself? They exploded into color this week.Remember back in November, I
The grass really is greener on the other side of the deer fence. It may not show in the picture, which I am not enhancing, but every time I step out the front door, that greenness boggles my mind.
When we bought this land it had been “rode hard and put up wet.” Too much taking, not enough returned for decades. That’s what absentee landlords do, I guess. We stopped selling hay, started retaining the fertility and we started seeing a bit of slow improvement. In the orchard, we have practiced chop and drop mulching with the alfalfa. Every little bit helps.
The turnaround, I knew from loads of reading about restorative agriculture, comes from correctly pasturing animals. Now as a city-raised enviro-leaning newbie farmer, this runs counter to everything I have ever heard about the evils of grazing. Then I read (actually audio-read) Joel Salatin’s book, Folks, This Ain’t Normal. He describes how his family has built topsoil by grazing cattle. Whoa! Could this be true?
Then last summer the grasshoppers attacked the orchard. In Utah, grasshopper population explosions occur regularly, going back to the tale of the seagulls saving the first pioneers. We read of a farmer in southwestern Utah that lost 1500 fruit trees. We could see the damage on our own new plantings. In a moment of inspiration driven by desperation, we turned the chickens loose in the orchard. Within a week, we had no more damage. There were still a few hoppers, but no more damage. And the chicken feed bill dropped to near zero.
We didn’t try to do any rotational grazing with the birds. We didn’t do anything except let them be chickens. One day Red caught and ate an entire foot-long snake. They scratched, dug themselves dust bath wallows, and made manure as all creatures will do. Around Thanksgiving we thanked them for their service and moved them to the hoop house for winter. That was the end of it, until a couple weeks ago when I noticed that the grass in the orchard was greening up faster than anywhere else. The pasture just looks healthier out there. It’s hard to describe, but you know it when you see it. Seven birds in 3 months eating and pooping, and we can see the results are obvious.
And that, my friends, is why two more rolls of electric fencing arrived yesterday (bloody 70+ pounds of fencing). The goats, the laying hens and the meat chickens, and the geese that are coming later this month all have work to do. We are going to set up a rotational grazing program out in the orchard salad bar. The netting should keep the trees safe-the goats do respect the white fences. When the orchard is resting, they can move on to the south pasture, or into the shade of the cottonwoods. The hens already have a mobile coop. The goats will go on day trips from their year-round pen, and I will be building mobile shelters for the meat birds and geese when they are big enough and the weather warms up.
I don’t understand enough about what happens biologically when the herbage passes through the gut of an animal to say why it makes such a difference compared to the chop and drop we were doing before. I’m not turning in my green chick card-I’ve seen plenty of damage on our public lands from poor grazing practices to say that all grazing is good grazing. But we have an object lesson here on how quickly good grazing practices can reverse decades of destructive management. And I can hardly say that last year was even good grazing practice. We have a lot to learn about how to set up our paddocks for maximum benefit at a reasonable rate of our labor.
So that’s why the herd continues to grow. The current census is 32 chickens, 3 dwarf goats and 8 yet-to-be-hatched geese. That’s pretty light stocking for six acres between the two parcels; we might need more ruminant help but we will see how it goes. The herd’s work is just beginning here. I had a soil test done in 2010, the last year the place was hayed. One benchmark we can use for whether our management is improving the land is the level of organic matter in the soil. We’ll get another sample analyzed this fall. But right now the green speaks for itself-an extremely motivating sight. It’s time to get those animals on the move.
The only fear is that we might need a herd dog. Slate isn’t going to like that, not one bit.
We are raising chicks again this year. These Black Giants are destined for the freezer, not the nesting box, in about 5 months. As chickies they are still in the cute phase. Make no mistakes: they quickly grow out of it into miniature dinosaurs devouring everything in sight, me included if I sat still long enough.
Why meat birds? Because grocery store chickens are immorally raised: they are bred to put on weight so fast their bones can break, they probably never see the sunlight and they are fed crap like arsenic. Crap that accumulates in their bodies that we then eat. The typical factory-farmed chicken breeding has so dissociated it from every aspect of chickenness that they will literally die of thirst rather than walk 10′ to find water. Should the bloated beasties make it to slaughter, the factory processing is even more scary, a system where 25% of chicken parts testing positive for salmonella is considered normal. To quote Joel Salatin, “Folks, this ain’t normal.”
It might not be normal for a girl raised in suburban SoCal to grow up slaughtering her own chickens, but that’s what has to be done. I can’t buy the chicken meat that matches my values. Our birds are a sturdier farmstead breed that hasn’t forgotten how to take care of itself. They will take longer to raise to table weight, 20-24 weeks instead of 6-8. They will cost a little more in feed even though they will be soon be out foraging for greens, seeds and bugs. In exchange for being well cared for, they will contribute fertility back to the ranch. Right up until their very last moments, they will live good lives on our pasture. Their dispatch will be swift and merciful and with gratitude. And then they will be delicious.
I should be so lucky to live and die like that.
Today, March 7, is Luther Burbank’s birthday. If you have ever eaten a baked russet potato or a bag of McDonalds French fries, you can thank Burbank. Savor the perfection of a sweet Elberta peach? Admired a Shasta daisy? Nibbled a Santa Rosa plum? Thank Burbank, a self-trained plant breeder who developed over 800 new varieties in a career than spanned more than 50 years.
Born on March 7, 1849 in Lancaster, Massachusetts, the thirteenth of fifteen children, Burbank received little more than an elementary education. By his mid-twenties, he had already sold the rights to the Burbank potato, the ancestor of the quintessential American baked-potato side served at steakhouses and family dinners alike and still the most widely planted potato in the United States.
In 1877, Burbank established a farm in Santa Rosa, California and launched his horticultural career as a nurseryman and plant breeder. He sold plants through catalog and by word of mouth promoting novelties like a thornless blackberry and the plumcot (hybrid between apricot and plum). He seems to have independently discovered the principles of Mendelian genetics, which were not available in the scientific literature until after 1900. Even though he “had an uncanny ability to select, sometimes over many generations, for several traits simultaneously toward an ideal type that he envisioned at the start,” academics didn’t respect his methods or lack of credentials. The Andrew Carnegie Foundation funded his work for five years, but terminated it when his lack of detailed scientific records was discovered by his sponsors. Not much of a businessman, he released unproven experimental stock that was resold as “Burbank creations” which undermined his reputation. In his sixties, Burbank sold the rights to propagate his creations under his name; when that company went bankrupt, his reputation was further damaged.
Burbank’s fame and influence persisted, however. Thomas Edison was a friend. Fiorello LaGuardia, mayor of New York, called him “one of the greatest Americans that ever lived.” He was in favor of plant patenting, and four years after his death his letter in support of federal Plant Patent Act was read into the Congressional debate. He was awarded posthumously over a dozen plant patents.
A 1945 summary of his work noted that “‘Burbank introduced over 200 varieties of fruits alone, consisting of 10 different apples, 16 blackberries, 13 raspberries, 10 strawberries, 35 fruiting cacti, 10 cherries, 2 figs, 4 grapes, 5 nectarines, 8 peaches, 4 pears, 11 plumcots, 11 quinces, 1 almond, 6 chestnuts, 3 walnuts, and 113 plums and prunes.” Some, like the Santa Rosa plum, have fallen out of favor as commercial crops but are still grown by home gardeners. Others, like the Elberta peach, are integral to our food economy.
California celebrates Arbor Day today, in honor of Luther Burbank’s birthday. It might be too early to plant a tree in your neck of the woods, but it is a good day to honor the contributions this humble, self-taught plant breeder made to our tables, and to wonder in what garden corner of America is our next Luther Burbank quietly at work?
Want to know more about Luther Burbank?
Naturally, I am appalled that the Foster Farms is getting lauded for reducing their salmonella rate to 10% in one of their cockroach infested factories (industry standard rate, according to the NBCNEWS article is a whopping 25%). But that got me wondering, what is normal in a farmstead situation? Other than practicing normal good hygiene, is there anything else to do to lower the rate?
I just ordered chicks from Mt. Healthy Hatchery, which had a salmonella outbreak last year. I figure their system is now more closely monitored than most, so I’m not worried. If you order enough chicks, they will send you a free CDC poster on sanctioned safe handling practices. Most important: no kissing the chicks.
Got that? NO KISSING the chicks. Think any of the Foster Farms chicks have ever been kissed?