New Kids for the New Year?

Nubian does catch some late-day sunshine by a chewable tree stump.

At one time I was sure that our three dairy goats were bred to kid in late January, but then I saw the Nubian does being bred again weeks after I had thought they had conceived. Our plans switched from having a barn full of kids in January to only looking for kids from Marcie in January and then from the Nubians in March. However, plans are only made to be changed it seems.

Two days ago, Miss Pamela Chrysanthemum, our tri-colored Nubian doe, suddenly appeared with a filled udder and a low-hanging pregnant belly. I've been watching her closely, and today I was sure she was ready to kid. Okay, so I saw little of the restless pawing behavior some of the Nigerian Dwarf goats used to display shortly prior to kidding, but she did paw a bit. Plus, while she's normally skittish around me, she now seems more tolerant--a behavior I attribute to her being close to delivery.

After spending the afternoon around the barnyard, frequently checking on Miss Pamela, I decided to head indoors when the sun set. As the night got colder, I limited my checks to hourly; however, she now has me convinced that I'll have to wait until the New Year for a chance to serve as her midwife. C'est la vie.

The people and animals here at P&CW Organic Farm wish y'all a Happy New Year and good health throughout 2012.

Our Dominickers' Tractor

The Dominickers are now grass; two hens and their roo.

Our Dominicker chickens have moved into the finally-completed chicken tractor. With only one cockerel and two hens, our little homemade enclosure is sufficient at about forty square feet. (Densely packed, I believe the current norm is to allot two square feet per bird; leaving hardly enough room to turn around comfortably without bumping into a wall or another chicken.)

The black-and-white Dominicker chicken is, as I understand it, considered the oldest American heritage breed, descended as they are from English stock transported to the English Colonies in America. Understandably, the breed is also known as the Pilgrim chicken. They lay brown eggs and appear to be husky enough to serve as a decent meat bird also.

These three birds are better off being out of the kennel. True, they have less space--both horizontally and vertically--but they can now scratch in the grass, leaves and earth for tasty tidbits. I slide the tractor to new ground daily, sometimes more often. Although at first I waited until they were roosting to move the structure, when the distance to be covered is simply the length of the tractor unit the chickens move along with their housing without appearing to be upset.

Currently they have a half dog crate to use for shelter from weather. The hens sometimes choose to lay their eggs under the shelter, but sometimes they lay their eggs just outside the door to the shelter. In the not-too-distant future, I plan to replace the plastic half-shell with some sort of nesting area that is raised up off of the ground.

For now, I am just glad to have them on natural ground while at once enclosed in a predator-proof corral. When they are scratching in the earth, they appear to be in their element--and for that I am happy.

Winter Greens

Young purple cabbage plant.

With a crock-pot of goat roast simmering on the counter, I wandered out to the bed of cool-season greens with Miss Annabelle this morning. No, the cat does not eat the greens, she just keeps tabs on her humans when we first appear. We had a hard frost last night, so several of the plants were dressed with icy shawls.

This bed of late-season greens only went in after area garden centers had divested themselves of their cool-season plant-starts. All of the collards and cabbage arrived the day Edwards Feeds disposed of the remainder of their display, and they were slowly planted over the ensuing weeks. We added a few broccoli plants, too, after Hale Moss of Moss Garden Center brought several flats of plants to a Wilson County Master Gardener meeting. 

One end of our winter greens bed.

Were it not for the free-ranging poultry and the occasional browsing goat, I might have spread the cabbages around as decoration. As it is, young plants cannot survive unprotected because one critter or another will feel moved to scratch at its roots or chomp on its leaves. Indeed, our new goat Starlight saw fit to reach over the short poultry netting "barrier" last week and start pulling up the broccoli plants with abandon.

Maybe by this time next year I will have conceived of a way to maintain the balance of free range birds and landscaping with edible plants. Maybe.

Starlight

Starlight traveling to P&CW Farm.

"Starlight, star bright, first goat I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight. Starlight, I wish to have another sweet Saanen/Alpine cross dairy doe on our farm. Will you come home with me?"

"You betcha, lady." Now, how's that for an agreeable goat?

Starlight moved to our farm from Bethpage, Tennessee a week or so ago. A Saanen/Alpine cross like our undisputed dairy queen, Marcie, Starlight has the sweet temperament associated with the breed. She is said to have consistently produced about three-quarters of a gallon daily on the kid-share plan (where she is milked for human consumption in the morning, then allowed to keep her kids at her side throughout the day before being separated from them again overnight) earlier this year.

Although considerably smaller than our Marciegoat, who is known for throwing her weight around to get what she wants, Starlight is just as personable. She knows and responds to her name and enjoys the company of people. (While our Nubian does will gravitate toward any human bearing food, they prefer to stay just out of reach--not seeking the hands-on attention our other goats seem to like.) At first, when I was outside I served as her herd, and she orbited around my movements with care. Now, I am glad to report, she gravitates toward other goats while still keeping loose tabs on me.

On arrival, Starlight was considerably underweight. (On a body-score scale of five, with 3 being ideal, I'd say she was a 2. Not emaciated, but pretty bony. By contrast, Marcie manages to maintain a 4 as her norm.) We've kept this new goat kenneled with the guardian Biscuit for company at night, and allowed her to roam and browse--still separated from the other goats by fencing--during some daytime hours.

At first the stress of moving caused her some upset. After about two days, though, her digestive tract stabilized and she returned to trailing little goat pellets behind her. Thereafter, I began trimming her feet, nipping off the longest parts while she grazes; I'll finish the job once she's up top with the other goats and we can put her on the milking stand. Tonight, I'll give her some pelleted goat wormer to assist her with weight gain. And soon I'll turn her out up top where she can browse with the other does and with those rapidly-growing Savannah-cross doelings, Taylor and Shea.

Building a Chicken Tractor

The tractor-in-progress, as we left it today.

Today we began building our first chicken tractor. That would be Me and my right-hand helpers, Myself and I. Since we've been thinking on the topic frequently of late, we stopped at Home Depot yesterday to scout out materials. We had not planned to buy because we had left the little farm truck at home; however, the opportunity presented itself.

Our way of joining pieces was crude, but effective.

When we wandered into the chain-link fence section of the store, we stopped to consider the already-fashioned gates. Lo and behold, there we encountered two small gates on clearance, marked down from around $54.00 to $13.50 each. Thus, we determined that these would supply the run's end sides. Even though we thought the rest of the materials would not actually fit in the car, we went ahead and purchased four of the 10'6" connecting poles for chain-link fencing hoping that we could manage it with the long ends hanging out a window. (That worked.) After finding an assortment of hardware we checked out and headed home.

Poultry netting wired onto the frame provides stability.

Today we worked at connecting the pieces. Making the frame was no easy task. Even though we had our work-crew of three, with only one physical body we found balancing the pieces difficult. Once the frame had been fashioned, I found some chicken wire, pardon me, some poultry netting with which to wrap the outside. Although we did not finish the tractor today, we were able to install two courses of netting--enough to stabilize the structure, and a couple of roosting poles for the birds. Hopefully we will finish the project tomorrow. If not, then sometime in the near future. I would really like to get those chickens out of the kennel and onto fresh ground soon.

One conclusion we reached through this exercise was that perhaps the prices of ready-made chicken tractors are more reasonable than we had at first thought. I'll be surfing the web later on to see if our second tractor will be purchased as a complete unit at the outset.

Fresh Eggs are Scrumptious

Hens chatting on a fence rail beside the barn.

Yesterday I had occasion to speak with my friend Josh. Familiar with Publix supermarkets as he is, Josh informed me that his household has switched to buying their eggs from Publix because Publix eggs taste better than any other store-bought eggs they have tried. He went on to explain that Publix is careful to only purchase their eggs from farms where the hens may range freely about the place. How cool is that?

Our hens range freely (except for the few temporarily caught up in the kennel). The eggs they provide for us are delicious: the color is always rich, the yolks are firm, and the flavor is nothing short of scrumptious. Luckily for me, I no longer recall how store-bought eggs taste.

I'm interested that the Publix eggs are advertised as being from hens fed an "all-natural, organic diet" consisting of "four different types of grain." Left alone, most farm animals are not naturally consumers of grain, or at least not in the quantities fed by farmers. Our goal is to raise our chickens on greens (and grubs, bugs, and anything else that catches their fancy). Indeed, those few caged birds--when given both grain and greens simultaneously--seem to prefer the green plants over the grain seeds.

Kenneled poultry awaiting delivery of new greens.

Soon I hope to have a chicken tractor built, a type of mobile chicken shelter, that will allow our hens to roam and feed on pasture while at once being protected from predators--and keeping our multiple roosters separated. Just over a week ago I had occasion to visit Meadow Mist Farm in eastern Massachusetts, where I saw their large mobile chicken cage. Designed of metal hoops, chicken wire, shade cloth, and bent runners for ease of transport, their structure caught my fancy. Although theirs is large enough to possibly require a tractor to move it, I hope to design ours such that one person (or horse or goat) can shuttle it from place to place, while still allowing the hens plenty of room to roam inside.

Living outside of city limits as we do, we are blessed with the riches Nature provides. Thank you, Lord, for all of these gifts--and most certainly for the eggs!

Hooray for Good Fencing

Finally, the goat bucks are fenced apart from the does again.

We are thrilled to have a new section of fencing in place. Most of this "new" pasture was enclosed with high tensile wire when we first moved here. While we kept the interspersed electric fence wires hot, this made a good enclosure for horses, but not for our ruminant population.

Now that our good friend Jeff and his sidekick Jerry have stretched sheep-and-goat fence in place of the high tensile wires, we have a solid goat enclosure. True, it still has gaps at the bottom that will allow young kids through, but I like to have spaces through which the livestock guardian dogs can move easily.

Indeed, the coyotes have been ringing the farm on three sides of late when they start up their yammering chorus at dusk. I feel safer when the dogs can reach all of our land. Where the dogs roam, the coyotes do not venture. (The coyotes have plenty to eat beyond the perimeter of this farm.)

Since the field fence enclosing the home pasture, our last existing woven wire enclosure, is crumbling with age, the goats have been running together as one herd for some weeks now. This was fine when the does were in season and open for breeding, but Marcie is big enough with kids that she has slowed some of late. And while both of our Nubian does were bred at the same time as Marcie, they both came into season again recently.

Come next breeding season, we will be able to control breeding once again and to choose which buck covers which doe. For now, we are relieved to simply have the goat bucks contained. Now that they are a herd of two (except when the twin kids wriggle in to roam with them), the pair is getting along better. When they were competing for the does' attention, the elder buck, Hank, was stern about keeping young Studebaker in line.

'Tis the Season for Mistletoe

Taylor stoops to savor a branch of mistletoe.

The windy autumn days bring more than falling leaves and the occasional loose branch to the ground. On those stormy days where the winds whip busily through every nook and cranny they can find, the mistletoe has begun to shake loose. Goats relish the taste of mistletoe and snap it up quickly when it falls.

The other afternoon little Taylor, one of the twin kids, ventured through the cattle panel by the gate to follow me while I fed the other creatures. (Shea, the other twin, is already having a hard time squeezing through the same openings. They grow so quickly.) I took a minute to watch her antics.

Mmm, tasty!

Even when time is tight, a minute stolen to watch the animals is invariably time well spent. They explore the world with an interest that we humans seem to lose periodically. Each blade of grass or nibbled branch appears new, fresh, and delectable. I do not believe I have ever seen a goat appear to be bored.

Taylor stayed down playing with her mistletoe until practically all the leaves had been devoured off of two separate branches. As soon as I moved to enter the upper portion of our farm, though, she quickly raced after me, eager to nurse should I put a doe on the stand. In another two weeks, she'll have her first taste of being weaned. The does need to gather strength for the kids in their wombs.

The New Hens are Laying

The new poultry with their nest box and personal livestock guardian.

Our new hens are laying. The first egg we found was a medium-size standard new pullet egg, with a brown shell. Since the new hens and their roos are still confined to a kennel run, I thought it would be nice to provide them with nest boxes. Using the hose, I finished cleaning out the waiting boxes, and after they had drained all day in the sunshine, I lugged a set to the coop and set them atop a pair of logs cut to fireplace length. Lined with a few hands full of hay remnants from the horse pasture, the boxes were set to go.

Recently, when our neighbor's hens abandoned their old nest boxes and moved into the "Chicken Hilton," a very fancy coop with its own fenced yard, I happened to be in the right place at the right time and managed to adopt the two rows of nest boxes. Barbara, a fellow Wilson County Master Gardener and a fine friend, helped me lug them to my truck and told me their history. The pinkish-painted boxes had come to their farm after having served time as book shelves at a local preschool center. A former teacher well-used to scavenging for classroom book shelves, I found the re-homing of the fixtures to farms well-suited to my current life and liked them all the more for their history.

The next time I checked on the hens, one of our white hens had deposited a jumbo size white egg in one of the nest boxes. Since these are young hens, or pullets, I expected that they would all begin by laying small and medium size eggs, but I was wrong. Over the past week we've collected two more white eggs, both jumbo size.

Thanks hens; keep up the good work. We enjoy dining on egg-and-vegetable scrambles frequently, and love the late-season gleanings that provide all varieties of color in those meals. In exchange, I make sure that those caged hens get plenty of fresh greens each day. We will move them onto pasture in time; I would like to see them ranging freely, but still separated from the other breeds of poultry.

We Miss Our Milk

Our newest kids wholly enjoy the blessings of fresh milk.

The new kids have been enjoying all the fresh goat milk they can guzzle for long enough that we humans have exhausted our in-home milk stores. All that is left in the refrigerator is some souring milk awaiting escort to some lucky garden plot. The daily morning smoothies, tall glasses of milk--fresh and warm, or already chilled, and endless batches of fresh ice cream and cheese are but fond memories for now. Although the new kids are bulking up rapidly, once they've been weaned it will be time to dry off the does in preparation for their winter kids. So sad. I look forward to the day when we have enough does again to time breeding and delivery such that we can enjoy fresh milk year-round. 

So recently we enjoyed a comfortable excess of milk. I could guzzle a glass or two on a whim, have milk for a meal or a snack between meals, fold fresh cheese into our eggs with each meal, and savor the cold sweetness of ice cream for a treat. It took us a good week after the new kids arrived to exhaust our personal stores. The wide-mouthed gallon jars that my dad had saved are back on the shelves--clean, dry and empty. They may even revert to storing dry goods again soon, since we won't have fresh milk again until at least February. Ah, I did so enjoy being spoiled while the wealth lasted.

At least we can continue to gain some of the raw milk benefits through our daily intake of Action Whey. Thank you, Emerald Express, for that gift.

Meet our New Meat Kids!

This photo was included with the craigslist ad for bottle babies.

This week we picked up two new bottle babies in Robertson County. Their dam inexplicably died within a few days of their birth. They were just shy of two weeks old when we picked them up.

The second craigslist ad photo. Who could resist?

These two new doelings, Shea and Taylor, are Savannah x Boer crosses and slated to be our new meat goat does. Although a few days ago I had never heard of the Savannah breed of goat, a little research online made me a fan. Like Boers, the Savannah goat is a South African breed of meat goat. Unlike Boers they are bred for resilience and disease resistance. The farmer from whom I bought these gals mentioned how his Savannah goats require little hoof care, while a clerk at the Co-op has warned me against full-blooded Boers because they are notorious for hoof problems. These cross-bred gals make a fine addition to our meat-dairy herd.

The new kids corralled at home with our LGD Biscuit for their sitter.

Our on-site bucks are Boer x Nubian crosses. Once these new doelings mature enough to breed, we are hoping to get some fine meat kids from breedings to our bucks. For now, though, they are penned safely apart from the full-grown goats. We will continue bottle feeding until we can get them switched over to the dams we currently have in milk. Ideally I would like to see Nubian doe Leslie take them on, but I do not know if she will produce enough milk for them; these gals are larger than the Nubian bucklings have been.

Welcome Misses Shea and Taylor!

Visiting Lannom Farms

A scarecrow marks the entrance to the Lannom Farms venue.

Late this morning several members of the Wilson County Sustainable Agriculture Coalition gathered at Lannom Farms in the Gladeville area of Lebanon, Tennessee for a tour. The Sustainable Ag. Coalition is the brainchild of Wilson County Agricultural Extension agents Shelly Barnes and Justin Stefanski. Our Family and Consumer Education (FCE) and Horticulture specialists, respectively, this pair teamed up to apply for a grant from the Sustainable Agriculture Research and Education program, better known as SARE, that is funding our local coalition. The Lannom Farms field trip could not have occurred on a nicer day.

A view on Lannom Farms fronted by the play area.

What fun we had together! From the general store out front, past the nature trail, around the edges of the 5-acre sorghum maze, to the entertaining hayride and farm animals on view, we had a marvelous visit that concluded with lunch catered by Mt. Juliet's Country Haven Cafe--complete with delicious pumpkin pie made from Lannon Farms pumpkins. The farm even offers a soybean and millet maze for families with very young children; the plants grow just a few feet tall and the adventure takes closer to five minutes that the requisite 45 - 60 minutes needed for the taller maze.

For pumpkin lovers, this is the place to be. Lannom Farms grows a number of varieties of pumpkins, all of which are planted by hand. The field trip pumpkins grow to a perfect size for little hands to carry home, after each child has ventured into the field to select his or her pumpkin. The pie pumpkins--mmm, mmm, mmm--are excellent for cooking. Among the other varieties grown there, the fairy tale or Cinderella pumpkins grow to a perfect shape for turning into pumpkin coaches drawn by bright white horses. Interestingly, this latter variety of pumpkin grows upside down, such that the stem is located against the ground.

The pre-K field trip was leaving just as we sat down to lunch.

The farm spreads over rolling land big enough to entertain multiple families and field trips without ever feeling crowded. Indeed, on this trip we were not alone, as a handful of Wilson County Schools' pre-K classes simultaneously were enjoying the venue. While they picnicked beneath shady trees, we enjoyed the entertaining hayride. After they packed up, we settled around a longer table to enjoy our tasty home-style meal. To learn more about the farm, check out their website or read any of the local articles that have appeared recently. Here's a link to one that appeared in The Wilson Post.

The Wilson County SAC has been meeting monthly since its inception this past spring, and is presently exploring producer and consumer possibilities of local agritourism/edutainment venues. The Lannom Farms such field trip is the first I have been able to attend. From now on I will try to work more of these excursions into my calendar. For those interested in attending the meetings, contact Wilson County Extension. As with all UT/TSU Agricultural Extension offerings, the Wilson County name refers only to the location of the gathering; we open our doors to residents from all counties and proudly count Davidson County residents among our burgeoning number. Middle Tennesseans, come on out and join the fun!

Ginger Beer

Today's cookbook.

We're trying our hand at making ginger beer today. Thanks to Sandor Ellix Katz's book Wild Fermentation, we are expanding from our initial ventures into cheese making and see sauerkraut on our horizon. Since reading The Untold Story of Milk, I have learned about the Weston A. Price Foundation and become a fan of its director, Sally Fallon Morrell. She keeps appearing in places where I am conducting research; she wrote the foreword to Katz's book, she presented a the 2010 International Raw Milk Institute and a recent conference of the Institute for Integrative Nutrition, and she wrote Nourishing Traditions--just one of many books on my wish list. So, when I read the conclusion to her foreword in Katz's book: "Wild Fermentation represents ... a road map to a better world, a world of healthy people and equitable economies, ..." I knew I had found a winner. Settling down with a tall glass of fresh milk, I nestled onto the couch and did not stir except to grab a handful of paperclips with which to mark pages of recipes to try.

Ginger beer in process. (Clockwise from top: once filtered base, dregs of ginger bug, ginger filtered out of today's beer.)

I am starting with the ginger beer recipe. It began with a "ginger bug" started some days ago--a mixture of water, sugar, and ginger--then left to ferment in a warm place. Situating it beside the crock pot worked remarkably well. (I tried to start with making raw milk yogurt, but could not locate the packet of starter that I had so carefully tucked away. I found it this morning: marking the recipe page in Wild Fermentation.) After obtaining jugs from a master gardener friend earlier this week, I was ready to try the recipe.

This morning I boiled a mixture of water, sugar, and ginger. Cooled and strained it. Added the strained ginger bug and lemon juice, and then strained that lot into jugs to be set aside to ferment. Not having been a science major can be a handicap in the kitchen. As the photograph illustrates, I had the second straining set up to wick nicely onto the stove top instead of into the jugs. Although I recognized the potential, I was unsure of how to address the problem. The funnel system in the rear is made from a Real Lemon juice bottle. (Yes, I cheated. I purchased enough lemons for the recipe as written, then chose to double it this morning. Luckily we had lemon juice in the fridge.) When I scooped the once-filtered ginger mixture into it, air bubbled up and the liquid poured into the jug quite nicely. The front funnel is made from the top of a two liter soda bottle and fits more snugly into the mouth of the jug. No air bubbles resulted in a slower-moving transfer of liquid.

Ginger beer in process. The second filtering.

My eyes are not as keen as they were once. By the time figured out that--yes--the clear liquid was being wicked from the tightly-fitted funnel setup, the stove top was swimming in about a pint of wasted ginger beer base. Once I loosened the funnels from the bottle necks, allowing for a ready transfer of displaced air, why--the process was completed in a jiffy! After mopping up the stove, I was ready to top off the jugs with water, then nest the jugs on either side of the crock pot where they will sit for a couple of weeks.

Crock pot maintaining bone stock with fresh vegetables.

This week we have been enjoying a hearty bone stock with fresh vegetables added periodically. That the crock pot serves this double duty in the kitchen pleases me to no end. That the nutritional wisdom I have gleaned over the past couple of months allows me to enjoy animal fats without guilt, makes devouring the bits of fat and gristle what originally clung to the bones all the more pleasurable.

Praise be for the bounty of this marvelous earth. (Here's hoping for a successful outcome to our first adventure making ginger beer.)

.

Growing Poultry

The new arrivals.

In mid-September we sold Miss Lissamy Lucy, our APHA mare that moved here in late 2008; part of the exchange included new poultry. After Lucy left, we had six new hens and two more roosters. I had not wanted the roosters because we have so many, but was glad to have them when I realized they are breed specific. (Some days I just do not think very far ahead.)

The one of the roos and two of the hens are Domeneckers, black-and-white birds that produce brown eggs. The other rooster and his four hens are all white and produce white eggs; the farmer with whom I traded could not specify the breed. I wondered if they might be leghorns (like the big white rooster from the cartoons of my youth), but he did not know. All of the bird were a tad scrawny upon arrival. They appeared healthy enough, but I could see why the farmer wanted to be rid of them (nearly as badly as we wanted to be rid of a horse).

The day they arrived, we ousted the roos that had too-long awaited the pot. (We would eat them faster if we did not have to deal with the killing and cleaning to do so.) That made life among the free-rangers pretty lively for a few days, as the multitude of roosters established a pecking order. Their challenges to one another are beautiful to watch, especially since they don't take their fights to the level of game hen fights. Game hens fight to the death.

The "new guys" have settled in nicely.

This evening I took a look at the newcomers. They have plumped up nicely. Soon I will have to move them from the dog kennel, but first I need to figure where to place them. We recently inherited some nice nesting boxes from a neighbor down the road. (Their hens have moved into what they refer to as the Chicken Hilton, a very fancy new hen house they built.) I need to scrub them out and set them up for use here.

Each morning and evening I enjoy interacting with our avian residents. LaLa Goose comes when called, pretty well, because she knows a call is generally followed by fresh vegetables or fruit. A friend was passing along his overabundance of over-ripe cucumbers for a time, and the birds loved those. I developed a method of throwing the fresh feed down onto the driveway, effectively splitting open the fruit or vegetable, and the birds flock to enjoy the spoils. Currently they're enjoying pears gleaned from our new friend Opal, who has enough pears that she is ready to throw them over a fence to rot. We enjoy the bags and bags she sends, and we share the green pears with the horses and the overripe pears with the birds.

LaLa eats her spoils from the heart to the rind.

Everybody is happy. We are blessed with abundance this season.

Observable Impacts of Nutrition

Marcie on the milking stand.

With the Fodder-Pro Feed System still in the offing, hay and grain continue to dominate the dietary supplement we have to offer. Unlike the rigid 5:00 or 6:00 a.m. and p.m. milking schedules of larger dairies, at P&CW Organic Farm we enjoy a far more relaxed schedule of once-daily milking. Although we aim to milk at around the same time each day, circumstances--such as the occasional cold, hard rain or an off-farm obligation--are known to interfere.

When milking is postponed by half a day or more, milk production drops off slightly. The longer the hiatus, the greater the drop. To encourage increased milk production, I use the recommendation of the woman from whom I bought Marcie--Melissa of C&M Vally Farm--and add a handful or so of alfalfa shreds into the grain offered to the does on the milking stand. Interestingly enough, that small change yields observable results by the following day. Udders are fuller and teats are distended when I return with milk buckets in hand.

Already I am anticipating the milk we will miss when our does reserve their nutrition for the developing kids they now carry. As in the Biblical lands where goodness can be measured by the ample presence of milk and honey, so too is our existence enriched by the gifts of the farm. True, we supplement our nutrition with Emerald Express products, and they do help us to feel spry enough to greet each day, but most of our blessings come from the real milk we drink--whole, unprocessed milk from our free ranging goats; from the farm fresh eggs our hens provide for us; and from the myriad of herbs, fruits and vegetables we enjoy from various local farm sources.

Five years ago in another life, we ate fairly well. While I knew that cookies and cakes should be enjoyed in moderation, I often had difficulty moderating my intake. What we did not know was that butter, fresh eggs, raw dairy, grass-fed meat, and organic produce would make such a positive difference in our energy levels and overall health. Where did our society go wrong? How is it that so much of what we feed ourselves and our children is bad for us? When did we make the shift to thinking that cost, convenience, and availability should be the hallmarks by which we choose the food to nourish ourselves?

I am thankful for the changes that have brought me to this point in my life and eager to continue learning about how I can continue to improve and can help to improve the lives of those around me.

Paradigm Shift, Step Two

This the information in book is changing our lives.

Early in the summer when I picked up a copy of the 2009 revised and updated edition of naturopathic physician Ron Schmid's book The Untold Story of Milk, I was engrossed from the start. Waiting for my car to be serviced, I opened to the foreword by  Sally Fallon Morell, president of The Weston A. Price Foundation, and soon found myself digging in my bag for a pencil with which to mark the text. The first line that drew my pencil reads "[t]he purpose of this book is to create millions of [raw milk] consumers and by so doing revitalize family farms and communities." Wow, thought I, now there's a lofty goal.

Considering that sales of raw milk are illegal in many states and that most apartment dwellers will not likely shift to keeping a family bovine on their patio any time soon, building a such consumer base will be a massive challenge. Now, I love the "farm milk" our goats provide for us and often wish that I could share it with others; however, I have no wish to engage the regulatory powers that be in this state and nation. As such, I have no plans to sell the milk--even though I do occasionally entertain a dream of so doing.

The exorbitant cost of building a potential Grade A dairy facility leaves me focusing on the health and wellness of the farm's inhabitants (and, sometimes, on that of its occasional visitors). The laws and regulations surrounding raw milk sales leave me regretfully declining all entreaties to sell the milk to individual consumers or families. Maybe thirty years ago the firebrand that I was would have engaged in this fight, but these days I am more inclined to work to effect change on a very small scale and actively live within the law. Eventually I hope to apply for a license to sell milk for pet consumption; however, as I expect that will require a more organized facility than we currently manage, the future date is far enough off to be but a blurry vision in my mind's eye.

All summer I have been relishing this book, toting it around and stealing time with it as the opportunities arise. The pencil currently resides somewhere within the pages of the 19th and final chapter, titled "Raw Milk Today," and its rounded point attests to the frequency of its use. This month I have been enjoying listening to the eight CD's of the 2nd Annual International Raw Milk Symposium as I drive to and from the city. Meanwhile, the collection of "to be read" books grows, and several sport page markers of various sorts throughout.

Changes directly attributable to Schmid's book here on the farm include a shift from pasture-based feed augmented with ample grain rations daily to a more grass-intensive system whereby grain will be limited to that necessary to aid each animal's rumen with digestion. Of course, the grass-intensive feed will not be limited to the ruminants. While most of our poultry range freely about the farm, those who are more confined have been subsisting mostly on grains; they, too, will be able to enjoy greens as fresh as those consumed by the free-ranging birds.

We are in the process of selecting a hydroponic fast-growing forage system for the farm, one that we plan to convert to an aquaponic system in due time. Not only should the animals benefit, but the nutrition that they provide for us should improve--and the pain on our wallets should lessen over time as the system pays for itself. With the price of cheap hay hovering around $4.00 a square bale just now, it will be a relief to cut the bill before winter sets in. Already a late season drought has restricted the horses to hay, and the alpacas' pasture is needing to be supplemented with hay on a regular basis.

While this post lacks much in the way of explanation, suffice to say for now that this paradigm shift has us looking not only to raw foods for dense nutrition, but also toward farm-fermented foods as well. How big is this shift for us? Well, now that the Emerald Express products have us feeling younger and fitter--neither of us has been complaining of aches or arthritic pains for some weeks now--I am eagerly anticipating a time when my lack of health insurance will no longer be a cause for concern.

Life on the farm is a treasured gift for which we are most thankful.

Paradigm Shift, Step One

June, 2011. Horses at pasture: (left to right) Janet, Stella, Millie, and Lucy.

We have been undergoing a paradigm shift this summer in the way we view nutrition on the farm. It started back in June shortly after we put the non-gaited paint horses up for sale. Just two or three weeks earlier I had added two nutritional supplements to my daily diet with no adverse health effects. After taking in the lowest recommended dose on a daily basis, I had yet to notice results, not that I had expected to notice any. While I was intrigued by the impressive claims the product maker made for its products, I did not just roll off the turnip truck yesterday and am well acquainted with the ploys of hype and even direct falsification that plague advertisers today. As such, I was trying the supplements but my hopes for them were tempered by my more-than-healthy skepticism. Then Miss Lissamy Lucy intervened.

Forgive me, but to tell this right, I need to backtrack a couple of years. In a post titled Falling, I chronicled my unsuccessful adventure in horseback riding with Millie. The short version is: I tried riding, I got thrown (or chose to fall before being thrown), then I hurt for a couple of weeks. As I remember it now, I'd swear it took three weeks before all the aches and pains, bumps and bruises from that afternoon's single fall stopped plaguing me entirely. I still recall the nights of trying to get comfortable and waking when I turned over, and days where just catching my breath made my ribs ache. (The post reveals that distance may have magnified the event in my recall--or that pride kept me from fully reporting on the discomfort in the post.) Whatever the truth of the matter is, or was, I do know that the one fall that afternoon caused me considerable grief for many days to come. Anyway, with lesson learned and life being busily lived, I had not remounted any of our horses since then until one fateful afternoon.

We had finally decided that the horses had to go. At least the quarter horses, to start, would need to move on. Keeping them as pasture ornamentation is expensive since our acres are mostly wooded and they graze down what pasture we have more quickly than it can regrow. After posting an ad for Lucy and Janet, our red-and-white paint mare and her two-year-old filly, I got the bright idea to give Lucy some time under saddle before introducing her to potential buyers. That Saturday afternoon, she was calm and gentle as I saddled her up, familiar with the procedure even though she had not experienced it for a long two years. Although I considered doing some groundwork with her before mounting, I felt pressed for time and did not think it was all that necessary. Maybe prudent, but I chose to forgo it. After all, I had never ridden a horse that had been out to pasture with her herd for so long, and I "reasoned" that when I had first met and tried Lucy, she had already been out to pasture with a herd for some weeks, and had been a perfect lady then. Bad choice on my part.

When I went to mount, she stood like a lady until my toe nudged her in the side. Leg not entirely over her back, I had no chance and went flying the moment she exploded out from under me. Since I had been trying to mount with the assistance of a rock pile, that's where I landed--that first time--back on the rock pile. After just a few bronc-like bucks, Lucy settled down and agreed to be caught. A bit more cautious, I went to the house for help. I thought if our Operations Manager could just hold the mare's head while I bumbled onto her back, all would be well. Wrong. I will spare you the blow-by-blow description. Suffice to say, I managed to get thrown thrice that afternoon before having the good sense to hang up the saddle. We humans recalled my experience with Millie (see Falling) and agreed that, while I was moving fine just then, I would pay dearly for my indiscretions by the morning. Lucy, unsaddled and cooled out, was turned back out with her herd. I finished the farm chores for the day, and sent up a prayer of thanks for a learning experience gained without serious injury. Amazingly, I wasn't even sore at that point, but I knew that time and rest would rectify that situation.

Okay, so I had stopped counting by that point, but again I was wrong. Night passed with nary a twinge. Morning dawned and I felt amazingly well. Indeed, days passed with no physical evidence of my adventures. Finally on Friday, after steeping out of the shower, I saw a colorful bruise on one "cheek" in the mirror. I poked and prodded and found the spot was tender. But that was it.

Now, I have not gotten any younger over the past two years. I'm over fifty and at that time my body was happy to remind me of my age, frequently. Why, then, had I been able to get thrown off of a horse not once, not twice, but three times in a single day without paying with physical pain? We talked it over and the only difference we could discern was the addition of those two nutritional supplements mentioned at the beginning of this post. I went back to their literature and found claims about ease of movement and reversal of aging. Thinking about it, I could remember a time in my youth when I rode daily and suffered the occasional barn injury with no complaint. Without further hesitation, I contacted the company, reordered the supplements for another month, put my order on auto-ship, and signed up for a business site with them. I was not ready to "sell" the products, but I was eager to share my story with a few friends and figured that I might as well enjoy the benefits of referring possible sales in the event anyone I knew opted to try the products. The company is Emerald Express and their products are Emerald Sea--an encapsulated blend of organic sea vegetables, and Action Whey--a whey protein powder made from the raw A2 milk of organic, grass-fed cows.

I invite readers to research the products. (Here's a link to a YouTube video overview.) Stay tuned as I continue to ramble about our household's paradigm shift on nutrition. As stated above, this experience merely nudged us onto this journey; these products represent but step one for us.

Summer Wanes

Sunset from our front porch.

We have had a busy summer, filled with extra-hot days and visitors from out of town. We have enjoyed having distant friends come for a taste of Middle Tennessee. The porch swing and rockers have been well-utilized as we've sat to visit and catch up. A dry spell has challenged our container gardens, so we have had ample reason to visit the farmers markets in Nashville and downtown Lebanon.

Dairy does recline in an dry kiddie pool.

With the two bucklings gone, we're back in milk, which makes me extremely happy. Nothing tastes better on a hot evening than freshly-churned goat milk ice cream, and nothing can beat the taste-sensations of fresh goat milk ricotta. Ms. Leslie Lupine goat is learning to stand like a lady at milking time and every day with her milk is a treat. Her udder is more fully developed than it was at her first freshening, and I'm appreciating how udders and teats differ from doe to doe and even from side to side on a single doe. Our primary milkers are Leslie (pictured) and Marcie, neither of which is a "show goat" (with well-matched udders), and each of which have markedly different mammary structures from side to side.

Hank and Stew show off their meaty physiques.

We retained the buckling Stew and renamed him Studebaker--something I may have mentioned earlier--because he's become a meaty model of his sire and is built like a truck. We are proud of his development and while we still compete with him for his auntie Marcie's milk, we see him as a poster buckling for the old ad campaign: "Milk, it does a body good." He will make a fine little herd sire alongside Hank.

With all the hot weather and the absence of recent rains, area trees are already beginning to drop their leaves, giving the landscape a foretaste of fall. The few cool days have been most welcome; everyone here perks up when the mercury drops.

The Bucklings Move On

Stroganoff, big enough to move away from the farm.

The thermometer on my car's dashboard has reported triple-digit temperatures frequently of late. Oddly, weekends have been cooler but excessive humidity necessarily shortens outdoor work stints. Last weekend when had a new helper scheduled to come work I was dismayed to step out into air so close it challenged breathing. The humidity level was at 88%! Thank goodness that the day's rains arrived with Josh, bringing welcome respite from the cloying heat. Sure we were drenched in no time, but the cool rain was a treat after so many days of sweat-soaked clothing accompanying all outdoor chores.

When Josh and I headed up toward the barn to find bucklings Stroganoff and Chilipepper, we found that the goats had found entertainment with their shelter. Rather than resting before fan-cooled stalls with the alpacas, our capricious caprines had busted into the storage area and taken to climbing box-mountains and causing box-slides. Although Leslie Lupine's twin bucklings weigh only around 40 pounds apiece, their cavorting contributed considerably to the damage, and so I was glad to be packing them off to another farm.

Chili, the older twin, has a bit more meat on his frame.

Even with meaty Midnight Hank as their sire, neither twin fared as well as Pamela Chrysanthemum's darling Stew--who bulked up so quickly we decided to keep him as breeding stock and changed his name to Studebaker. He's as solid as a truck and just as steady. For some reason the does favored him and allowed him to nurse indiscriminately while the twins had to battle for decent meals.

Now that they were ready to move on, I drove them down the street to another farm where they were stalled indoors--warm and dry--and surrounded by a fine herd of does much taller than either of the kids. True, they had been advertised as cabrito (or young goat, somewhat akin to veal), but when I last saw them they certainly appeared to be pets-in-the-making.

Studebaker, our young truck atop cloven hooves. Some buck!

Now that the bucklings are off of their dam, Leslie has become just another dairy doe. She's gentle and sweet, and stands fairly well for milking now--especially when she's offered mini-massages for her back and a pan of grain before her muzzle. It has been two days and she's no longer searching for her boys at every turn; she transitioned smoothly into her new role.

Two goats down. Now, if we can just sell two of the horses our pasture should stretch far enough for all of our animals without much supplementation.

The Second Cutting

With but one pass finished, the grasses still stand waiting to be cut.

For some reason I find the processing of haying to be extremely soothing to watch--probably because I am not the one doing the work. When the farmer across the way heads into his hayfield to cut, I am drawn to the porch from where I can measure his progress as the day wears on.

Cutting done, these grasses will dry under the August sun.

With each successive pass, the once-tall grasses fall gracefully into place on the ground, forming a quilted pattern of new-mown hay. As the yet-to-be-cut patch diminishes, my forays onto the porch for a peek become more frequent, for it's not the finished job that thrills me so--although baled hay in the field is quite attractive. No, it's the progression of the job that draws me to watch and enjoy.

Perhaps it's the predictability of the work. Perhaps it's the steadily progressing change in the landscape. Whatever the cause, I find haying time to be extremely soothing to observe.

Managing in the Heat

Our herd sire and dairy queen hide in the shade on a July morning.

Managing in the heat this month has been a challenge for everyone. During the heat of the day most of the animals disappear into the shade--under a building overhang, beneath a vehicle, in the cool of the woods--and only venture out late in the day.

Heat stress leaves Marcie, our dairy queen, panting heavily by mid-morning. Heat stress caused, I believe, one of our alpacas to miscarry. Although I did not find a fetus, she transitioned from clearly pregnant to clearly barren overnight. Heat stress even finds the hens panting when I encounter them about the yard.

The only creatures who appear immune to the heat are the guineas. We appear to be down to two now, but those two can be seen busily scooting about the property--crossing fields back and forth, and popping out and back over fences--with their heads down. They are always focused on their work which they take very seriously. I guess, then, we can credit them for the relative lack of ticks we have about the farm of late. It's always nice to be able to do tick checks without finding any offenders attached.

The alpacas and goats down a tub of water laced with cherry-flavored electrolytes daily. While the container stipulates that the electrolyte-water be the only source of water provided to the animals, I ignore that directive. The ruminants drink it dry daily, even though they have access to a number of automatic watering troughs around their pastures.

If only one could capture and bottle the summer's heat, to be taken out and savored midwinter. Now that would be a treat worth canning and preserving!

Shearing Day at P&CW Farm

An alpaca, tied to the shearing table, being relieved of her fleece.

The weather was so hot on shearing day that Gerdi had to travel to our farm with her helper for the alpaca shearing. I was afraid to put the animals in the small trailer and ask them to travel an hour and a half in this baking heat. We were grateful that our new shearer was able to make the trip.

Unfortunately, with the steady heat for the past few days, the alpacas' coats have been wet and much of the fleece was not even worth trying to salvage. While I should have been packing the animals with ice bags beneath their armpits, instead I ran the sprinkler. And although we have fans in the barn, it is so low and close that the alpacas have not been housed up there for some weeks.

Newly-shorn alpaca gals rest in the shade within easy reach of electrolyte-laden water.

We appreciated the work that basically saved our herd from perishing in the heat, and the bushels of good advice imparted by the shearer and her helper. Since their visit, we carefully spread out the fleeces that we chose to keep and were able to dry them in the sun before they could mildew in a bag. The alpacas were so glad to be relieved of their coats that they quickly forgave me for the indignity of the shearing experience. None was eager to be separated from the herd, then tied to a tabletop and clipped; all were smiling, though, by the time they were released from the table.

I'm beginning to think that it was unwise for us to bring alpacas to this climate. Indeed, by the time the shearers left, I was about ready to crumple in the heat myself. I cannot imagine how tough this weather is for animals better suited to cooler climes.

July is Too Hot for Coats

Alpacas stand in the sprinkler's spray to find respite from the heat.

Some days it feels as if I run and run without getting anywhere, and while this sounds very much like I might have described life before moving to the farm, the result is very different. Indeed, while I may spend afternoons shifting fences around to keep animals contained and still rotating from pasture to pasture, some larger chores have been allowed to slide--with potentially dire consequences.

As busy as I have been filling kiddie pools and running sprinklers for the alpacas, what I should have been doing was finding a shearer--and getting him or her to the farm in the Spring. Now Summer is here and our shaggy ruminants who evolved high in the cool Andes are suffering. Luckily I crossed paths with another caring alpaca farmer when I was at Edwards Feeds recently. Alarmed to hear that I had yet to engage a shearer, he gave me his wife's card and told me to call her for a referral to the woman they use. Thank you!

Now our alpacas have  an upcoming appointment with a Miss Gerdi. She sounds like a lovely woman, and the alpacas and I are eager to make the trek to her farm this weekend.

Chicks at Last!

Our first sighting of 2011 chicks appeared in late June.

So far this year we have not seen young chicks about the farm. After last year's steady stream of new broods following Kimberly, one of our few named hens, we found the absence of chicks unusual. Aside from the intense periods of heat we have had, I cannot imagine what has changed for the hens. In fact, we have a good four or five broody hens this season. "Broody" refers to a hen who dedicates her days to incubating a clutch of eggs, nurturing a new brood of soon-to-be hatchlings.

This afternoon I finally spied one of last year's hens hiding an interesting assortment of chicks in the green growth just outside the barn. The chicks are differently colored and patterned, making a pretty brood beside their guardian mama hen.

My only concern for this new brood is their lack of safe hiding places. Since a recent storm dropped trees across the home pasture fences, the dogs and goats can readily travel into and out of the home pasture at will--making the pasture a less than entirely safe space for new chicks. Our youngest livestock guardian, Biscuit, truly appreciates the flavor of fresh chicken. Since he's responsible for the home pasture these days, the only place mama hen can hide her brood from him is inside the barn--not a place for raising young chicks when fresh air, sunshine, greens and bugs beckon just outside in the pasture.

Good luck, mama hen. You're going to need it to raise this brood to adolescence.

Getting Cool in the Pools

Alpaca Spencer claims a pool filled with cool well water.

The hot days of this season are much too warm for anyone who is overdressed. The livestock guardians continue to shed their winter coats in shaggy clumps, but the alpacas are not so lucky.  Unfortunately for them, I let shearing season slip by without managing to engage a shearer. (They do now have an engagement for shearing fast approaching, I am pleased to report.)

Shaggy alpacas jockey for position beside the sprinkler.

Alpaca fiber is delightfully warm in winter. These days our alpacas spend much time seeking respite in the shade and waiting for the sprinkler to be turned on at different times through the day. They can hear when the hose spurts to life and will hasten across the yard to reach the pools and sprinkler.
 
Their date with the shearer cannot come too quickly. Next year, I resolve to schedule shearing in a more timely fashion. 

Waiting to Kid

Marcie: resting and ruminating.

For about a week now, Miss Marcie, our Saanen/Alpine-cross dairy goat has been a lady in waiting. (This may be the only stage of life where she is accused of being a lady; with her leadership qualities, bossy is more her style.) She'll browse with the herd, but she is quick to stop to rest and ruminate. On hot days she's often breathing hard, although she does not seem to be in distress.

Her figure is robust, round and full. Last Sunday, based only on her size and breathing, I decided she must be close to kidding and separated her from the herd. For a couple of reasons, I stuck close by all day. Her herd objected to being ejected from the home pasture, and spent much of their day clustered along the fence as close as they could get to the farm's Dairy Queen.

One reason that I stuck close was that the last time she kidded, Marcie needed help. By the time her dead twins were delivered, she had weakened considerably. I do not want to risk losing her.

The other reason is that last year she tested positive for Caprine Arthritic Encephalitis (CAE), a disease that she can pass along to her kids--especially through the colostrum provided in their first day's milk. I want to be close by when she kids this time to whisk her kids away without even allowing her to lick them dry in order to prevent disease transmission. If she has doe kids, we'll want to raise them to join the dairy herd, so keeping them disease-free is important. If she has bucklings, their future will lie on someone's dinner table, so the transmission of a disease that might impact their joints late in life is of no consequence--they won't be living the three or five years it might take the disease to settle in.

Marcie's herd spent the day trying to be reunited with their matriarch.

If Marcie has doe kids, we will have to decide whether to bottle raise them or not. Since Marcie came to us as a bottle-raised doe who identifies closely with her humans and strives to be the center of our attention, we are a bit leery of bottle-raised kids. However, we have had much luck with getting our dairy does to play nursemaid to any kid, although this begins on the milking stand and may never carry into pasture behavior. Since I would be happy to have little does running eagerly to the milking stand, I expect we will try to go that route.

First, of course, Marcie needs to kid. The day I spent with Marcie in the pasture over the weekend was long enough that my neck and shoulders were sunburned in the evening--a rare occurrence for me. Since then, I've regained my sanity and understand that being heavy with kids does not necessarily mean a doe is anywhere close to her delivery time. For now,  I will continue to check on Miss Marcie frequently and watch for stronger signs of imminent kidding.