Sprung

Here on the farm, spring has arrived in full force. The fields are green again, the trees are budding out, and there's a certain energy in the air. Of course, it's been an uncommonly sweet April so far, making everything seem a little rosier, with warm, fair days far outnumbering the rainy and drab. And, shaking off the winter, we've jumped into the new season with no looking back.

The pigs were the first to get an upgrade, getting moved out into the hickory grove, onto pasture. With a solar charger and some step-in plastic fence poles, setting up an enclosure for the swine was a simple afternoon's work; moving them to it was another story. The first attempt was a disaster, when the pigs refused to cross the concrete bridge spanning the creek. A few days later, in a jerry-rigged trailer clabbered together from a flatbed and a dog kennel, we finally wrangled the hogs (who each are topping 200 lbs. now) over into their new homes. They took to the new space with ease and aplomb, rooting for fallen hickory nuts as if nothing had changed. They're out there now, happy and content, turning up the swampy ground and working to restore what would otherwise be wasted space.

The chickens got a new upgrade in real estate too. They've been growing like weeds, and were well on their way to outgrowing the barn stall they'd been living in. After building two secondary frames of 2x4s and chicken wire to cover the doors at either end, the bay that housed the steers for the winter proved to be a perfect space. The birds now have room to spread out, stretch their wings, and get ready for their eventual lives in the great wide world.

The steers got a new address as well, moving out onto the fresh green pasture behind the house. This is my first real experiment in rotational grazing: the cattle get a few days to eat a section down before being moved on the new grass. Right now, after devouring their first area in a few scant days, they're on section two. In a week or two, they'll have mowed the entire region down, pasture by pasture, and then the fun of trying to get them across the bridge begins.

There have been several new additions to the farm as well. Earlier this week we picked up a small dexter steer named, originally, Dexter. Dexters are a small breed, and Dex is always going to be a slight fellow. He's leggy and fit, sporting a pair of odd conical devil horns; an interesting looking guy overall. He's become fast friends with #1, and relaxed into the eternal spring-time bliss of eating and sleeping.

New pigs have arrived too, ten of them, just pink and spotted mutts, but cute none-the-less. They are smaller than the Tams were when they came, but are bolder, learning the fence in a matter of hours. They have a bit of a mean streak, at least with each other, but they're mellowing as they get used to their new freedom.

Most recent of all, the farm acquired a rooster, a stately Americauna by the name of George. He's a stunning and pleasant bird, and his crow could come straight off a movie soundtrack, so typically rooster-ish is it. Luckily, you can't hear him from the house. The neighbors across the road might not be so lucky...

Where's the Beef? Right Here...

Yesterday, the cows came home.

Two Black Angus steers, about eight and a half months old and seven hundred pounds each, arrived yesterday at the farm, on one of the first truly bitterly cold days of the year. The steers, numbers twenty and one (henceforth known as Black and Jack), came from a small farm in New Hartford. They are good natured beasts, a little timid at first, but gentle and even tempered. Though the weather has been frigid, they spent their first night in the shelter of a newly opened up barn bay. In a day or two, we'll bring them out into the barn yard to meet the horses.

The plan is that Black and Jack will be the front runners of a small herd of beef cattle. I'm not sold on Black Angus as a breed yet, but the two steers are already growing on me. They don't have the personality of pigs, but are easy going and doe-eyed...it's going to be difficult, as it is will be with all the animals, to transition to thinking of the them as 'meat'.

But I will. The steers will have a good life out on the pasture, and they'll never know the miseries of a feed lot or industrial slaughterhouse. Grass fed and hormone free, their beef will be lean and flavorful, healthier than the heavily marbled conventional meat, and more ethically sound. I feel good about that.

In some ways, two head of cattle is not much to speak of compared to some of the large scale operations out there. But for me, 1400 pounds of cow is a pretty big step, and one I'm quite excited about, and proud of. The two steers are out there now, hunkered down in the cold of the Connecticut night. We're all waiting for greener pastures.

Notes from North Carolina

This past weekend, I drove down to Black Mountain, North Carolina, for the 24th Annual Sustainable Agriculture Conference, hosted by the Carolina Farm Stewardship Association. I had the dubious pleasure of apparently being the event's only Yankee, a distinction which was repeatedly made apparent to me.

The conference was hosted at the YMCA Blue Ridge Assembly, a hundred year old bible camp compound of a dozen or so buildings nestled in a crook of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Think: the Overlook Hotel, as designed by Flannery O'Connor. Amidst the mountain laurels and streams, the compound was actually quite striking, in that 'haunted by the ghosts of the damned' kind of way. As for the conference...

On friday, I took a tour of three farms in the Asheville area, East Fork Farm, Hickory Nut Gap Farm (man, I love that name), and the farm at Warren Wilson College. East Fork focused primarily on sheep, a flock of around two hundred Dorper-Katahdin cross, along with pastured chickens and rabbits. The farm was small but well run, and made great use of marginal land, on the steep sides of what the locals would call a 'holler'.

Hickory Nut Gap Farm was a slightly larger operation with a slightly more amusing name. They ran grass-fed cattle, pastured hogs, and turkeys and chickens, sort of similar to what I hope to set up. Warren Wilson's farm was the most impressive, 275 acres of bottomland along the Swannanoa River. They have been in operation for over a century, a working farm staffed largely by students and feeding the campus, and they currently run large herds of grass-fed black angus and pastured pigs, as well raising small grains, corn, and chicken. Of course, they have the added benefit of slave labor in the form of college kids; but then, slave labor is a touchy subject in North Carolina. Still, beautiful farm.

Saturday brought a selection of lectures, one on agro-forestry, one on mobil poultry slaughtering units, and one of small farm marketing strategies. All as exciting as it sounds.

On saturday night, the key-note speech was given by Dr. Tim LaSalle, CEO of the Rodale Institute (give it a google). It was a sobering speech, touching on the litany of sins perpetrated by the industrial agriculture system, everything from Roundup killing frogs to lowered sperm counts in men (did you know Danish organic farmers have the most potent sperm in the world? it's a fact that, try as you might, you can never un-learn...). But the good doctor also gave us cause for hope, in the possibility for mass carbon sequestration in soil farmed and managed organically.

It was during LaSalle's speech that I made an obvious but overlooked connection to my own farm. As he spoke about water absorption and its link to soil carbon, I began to think about how the fields here at Hickory Hurst are still saturated from the summer's rains. Those fields have been hayed for the past thirty years, sometimes twice a year, with no return input of manure or minerals into the soil system. If the ground had been managed properly, instead of pillaged, the soil would be able to absorb the vast majority of all that water, soaking it up like a carbonaceous, micro-organism filled sponge. As it is, the soil is weak and thin, deprived of tons of biomass in the form of hay. The water, as a result, stays on the surface, turning whole swaths of the fields into unworkable morasses. Well, if nothing else, I've finally diagnosed the problem. I hope fixing it won't take another thirty years.

I finished the conference on sunday morning with a wonderful session on pastured poultry. Hosted by Andrew Gunther, a Brit, the lecture really helped crystalize my own ideas about how the poultry operations here on the farm should be arranged (plus, everything sounds smarter with a British accent). I left the conference that cold, bright sunday morning with chickens on my mind, and a newfound determination.

So was the 24 hour round trip worth it all? Certainly, though perhaps only at my stage of the game. As someone starting out, it was invaluable to be able to gather information and first hand expertise before delving in with both feet myself. I learned by seeing farms in operation, and from farmers who themselves have learned lessons the hard way. I met people with similar interests and similar outlooks, and was reassured by farms run on smaller and less developed pieces of land than what I have available. I drank sweet tea as sweet as straight honey, and soaked in the molasses-thick souther accents rolling off farmers' tongues. I mingled with rich landowners, hippie kids, and gray-haired, grizzled, old backwoodsmen. Differences aside they were all there together, with a shared vision. And, for that weekend at least, this Yankee was one of them.

Farm Fresh

So, I'm starting a farm...

Hickory Hurst is a retired dairy farm in Morris CT, last in operation sometime in the late sixties. Somewhere around 90 acres of mixed wood-lot and pasture, for the last thirty years the land has been owned by our family friends the Hachems, and, apart from the house and barns, maintained only as hay fields. Now, thanks to the family's generosity, the land will be put back into full-time production as an integrated, sustainable, organic farm.

Following a model perfected, if not pioneered, by farmers like Joel Salatin of Polyface Farm (most notably described in The Omnivore's Dilemma), the goal at Hickory Hurst is to focus on grass-based, low-impact farming techniques, including utilizing animals and crops in complementary roles. The health and ethical treatment of livestock is as much a priority as high quality meat and eggs, and both well-being and product are tied directly with the health of the land itself.

My plan right now is to spend the fall cutting back sections of wood, and performing up-keep and cleaning on the barns and pastures. If all goes well, in the spring I'll begin fencing and acquiring stock. I'll be starting out small, and hopefully expanding in coming years to a level sustainable with the size of the farm. Here's my initial target for spring purchase:

*about ten head of beef cattle, possibly a heritage breed, maybe Herefords from a local breeder. Fed only grass and hay, the cattle will grow slower that their feed-lot counterparts, but produce a leaner and more flavorful beef.

*10-20 hogs, ideally Tamworths, a heritage breed know for their foraging ability. 'Pastured' in wooded enclosures, finished on pears, acorns, and hickory nuts in the fall, the pigs should be a perfect fit. Mmmm, bacon...

*200-300 broiler chickens; pastured, used as insect control, given room to move and lots of sunlight, there is nothing better that a fresh, well roasted chicken.

*150 laying hens; I'm already trying to design mobile coops to follow the cattle in the fields.

*25 sheep and a few goats, money permitting.

In the second year, I intend to convert a six acre front field into vegetable rows focusing on heirloom species and New England specific crops, as well as personal favorites. A second three acre back lot, currently consisting of rocky, poor soil, is destined for reclamation, and I'm going to experiment there with a 'milpa' system, a free form Mexican diverse crop mix. Corn, beans, squash, and melons are sown together and allowed to proliferate, providing ground cover, water retention, nutrient fixing, and, if nothing else, feed for the stock.

I plan to sell at local farmers markets, most notably in Litchfield, but also need to support of friends, family, and the community. I'm looking to develop a meat CSA, and if you're in the Northeast and think you might be interested, give me a shout; chickens and eggs should be ready in the early summer, pork in the fall.