29 June, 2012

Keeping Fertility on the Farm

So I’ve been reading Mini Farming by Brett Markham, which is kind of an amazing book because it manages to take small-space intensive agriculture, which is a subject that I find absolutely fascinating, and turn it into one of the most godawful boring things on the planet. Seriously, Mr. Markham may be great with plants but his prose is seriously dry and plodding and tedious. How, I ask you, can you make compost boring? How is that even possible?

But one thing he said really resonated with me, which is this: keep the fertility on the land. When you grow a plant, there’s a lot of it you don’t harvest. Think of pea vines: you eat the pods, but then what do you do with the vines? Or corn, what happens to the stalks after you harvest the ears? These plants have taken nutrients from your soil, and wasting the part you didn’t eat just means you’re depleting the soil that much faster. Which is one reason we compost: to turn plants back into dirt, which will grow more food for us.

Once you start composting everything, you start seeing everything as soil nutrients brought in or going out. We don’t grow most of the feed for chickens and goats, we buy it. And then we compost the goat and chicken poo. Voila, a net gain of soil productivity, a transfer from the farmers who grew the grains that make the feed or who grew the hay to us. Then again, we also run the plants we grow through the goats and chickens whenever we can before composting. The goats in particular will help things along by breaking down the cellulose of the plants in their amazing rumens before we put it on the compost pile in the form of goat poo.

This is probably a slight loss of fertility from the soil, transferred from dirt to plants to animals to compost and then back to dirt, but on the other hand it does ensure that whatever we grow in our soil feeds us even if we don’t eat it directly ourselves, by nourishing the beasties who provide us with milk and eggs and meat. Om nom nom. And there’s always those imports of soil nutrients in the form of goat and chicken feed to think about.

Our garden is also small enough right now that we are going to have a kind of amazing surplus of compost when it comes time to dig more through our beds, which is nice because it means we will also have some to spare for some of the more blighted areas of the back acre. The back acre is where the goats are pastured and the chickens we allow to free range (because we’re mostly OK with the fact that they might get eaten by something not us) go, and it would be nice to be able to grow good fodder for them back there, which they will then deposit in the form of manure, which will melt into the soil, which will grow more fodder, and the amazing cycle goes on.

27 June, 2012

Andrea’s Top Tips for being a Crippled Homesteader

A lot of the homesteading movement is geared toward people who are not just non-disabled but, well, pretty active. I do OK some days, other days (like today) I spend 6 hours asleep in the middle of the day while waiting for the painkillers to kick in. Exciting. So anyway, I thought I’d share the ways I cope, and if there’s any other crippled homesteaders out there who want to chime in, feel free! It’s not like I’ve figured EVERYTHING out.

1) Know your limits.
This isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially if you’re like me and your limits vary from day to day. Some days I get around with no mobility aid, other days I only get around courtesy of vicodin and a wheelchair. But you need to know, basically, what you can regularly do so that you can scale your homesteading efforts appropriately. Two goats are easier to care for than many goats; a trio of bantam Leghorn hens will be easier to care for than a flock of ten standard-sized egg layers; a garden needs intensive heavy physical labor maybe twice a year and the rest of the time it’s pretty light. Perennial vegetables like asparagus and long-lived things like fruit trees and hazelnut bushes can take much of the heavy work out of getting food from your own space if you have the time to wait for them to be productive and are willing to lose some to the birds and animals every year.

2) Know what’s really important to you.
For me, it’s about minimizing suffering while still enjoying ice cream and pudding and tasty, tasty tomatoes. So we’ve kind of gone whole-hog (or at least whole-goat and whole-chicken and whole-garden). But I’m lucky in a big way which we will discuss momentarily, and maybe you’re depending on your own variable resources. So my suggestion is say “Fuck that” to the people who act like your efforts are worthless if you haven’t gone totally off-grid, and pick one thing that’s really important to you and do that. If you want to stop supporting industrial egg production, go for a little PVC chicken tractor and a trio of bantam egg-layers, or even a pair of big egg layers. If you have the land and want to take a swing at the dairy industry, a pair of Nigerian Dwarf goats may be just the thing. If you are seriously into amazing tomatoes and hate the labor conditions on commercial tomato farms, you could go nuts with container-gardening tomatoes.

3) Enlist help.
As I mentioned above, I’m lucky — because I have a big muscly husband who likes gardens. This means that I can have my organic garden because I have someone around who will dig over the beds as needed. Once established, the garden beds do not necessarily need digging-over, but our native soil is crap. As in, there is no nitrogen in it whatsoever. As in, yes, we tested the soil and the nitrogen reactant? Did not react. That means that if we want to grow things, copious amounts of compost must be added to the dirt, and that requires much digging.

You may not have a big muscly husband who can be persuaded to dig you some garden beds on-demand, but! Do you have a neighbor with a roto-tiller? A friend who will help out setting up your container garden? Someone who will carry 50lb bags of feed from your car to your storage area in return for eggs from the chickens who will eat the feed? It is kind of amazing, I have discovered, what people will do for fresh eggs. They will do even more for fresh goat cheese, if you are inclined to have goats and make cheese.

4) Be willing to not be perfect.
Doing everything you need to do to have a self-sustaining organic farm that provides all your needs? Requires that you be able-bodied and have a shit-ton of time on your hands, let me tell you. Also you will need to be independently wealthy. Let go of the idea that your agricultural efforts must be perfect. Your garden does not have to be pretty as well as productive. It does not even have to be maximally productive, if what you want from it and what you are able to do mean that you will not be working your plot of ground intensively. That’s OK. No, seriously, it is.

20 June, 2012

Dairy Goat Profile: Josie

A close-up shot of Josie's face as she stares up at the camera, doubtless considering whether or not she can eat it.

Josie is a grade dairy doe, meaning no one has kept her pedigree. There’s at least some Oberhasli in there, as no other breed has that distinctive coat of rich bay with black trimmings, but she lacks the black belly of a purebred Oberhasli. She is the enforcer of the herd, out to headbutt the world, or at least that portion of the world which is other goats who annoy her. She even tried it once on Miss May, shortly after we brought May home. Just once, though, as May put her massive head down to meet Josie’s incoming rush and Josie bounced off her like a ball off a brick wall.

Josie is also the mother of the first pair of goatlings born here at the Manor, proudly giving me twin doelings at her first birth (and mine!). She’s now being trained to be milked, which is a slow process requiring much patience on all sides. Evidently it’s weird to have someone milk you. I really can’t fault Josie for feeling that way, either, since I am pretty sure that if someone tried to milk me I’d do more than give them a vicious side-eye.

But I digress. Elegant, stubborn, and determined, Josie is an excellent paragon of goatliness. She even managed to teleport out of her Executive Kidding Suite at one point, to the great mistification of all human beings. But her life could be improved by an endless supply of fresh pine tops and also her own personal servant to follow her around fanning her. Tragically, she must climb trees to get her own pine tops (which are only available in spring anyway), and depends on the vagaries of weather for a fresh breeze. Your awareness will surely make the pine trees change their growing habits, and also convince someone to show up and fan her.

19 June, 2012

Dairy Goat Profile: Esk

A photo from my POV that shows Esk, a tiny Nigerian Dwarf Goat who is white with orange spots, standing on her back legs with her front hooves on my hips and a mouthful of my t-shirt.

Few people realize that Nigerian Dwarf Goats serve a purpose besides being tiny and adorable. As you can see from this picture of Esk, they are also tiny hooved terrorists waiting to wreak havoc on unsuspecting bipeds. It is rare to get a picture of Esk that does not involve her having a mouthful of someone’s hair or clothing.

Esk is almost a year old, and is one of the first two dairy goats I brought home. While their tiny teats are hard to milk, the milk they give ranges up to 10% butterfat. Compare that to the paltry 3.25% butterfat of whole cow milk you buy at the store! And while they only give a couple quarts a day, that’s more than sufficient for a household of two humans. But most people just write Nigerian Dwarf Goats off as adorable little bundles of terror and fail to give them sufficient credit for producing delicious milk that is just asking to be made into amazing cheeses and frozen dairy snacks. This makes Esk sad.

Of course, Esk’s life is not all grain and roses (goats love to eat roses). She would like to be a lap goat, but her inability to control herself when it comes to tasty, tasty human clothing and hair means that she is exiled from being cuddled more often than not, and has to settle for having her face, neck, and body vigorously scritched. Your awareness of the plight of dairy goats like Esk will help her receive Self Control Therapy, so she can learn to avoid trying to eat people and thus get more lap time.

18 June, 2012

Dairy Goat Profile: Miss May

A profile portrait of Miss May, a golden brown goat with long, drooping ears and stripes running from the corners of her eyes to her nose.

Let me introduce you to Miss May, formerly of Money Pit Acres. She is a treasure among dairy goats and I could not have asked for a more perfect goat for my first milker. Miss May is patient, kind, and at 130 pounds she is easily twice the size of Josie, who is the next-largest goat in the herd. But Miss May uses her powers only for good, keeping the herd in good order and discipline.

Unfortunately, like 95% of dairy goats worldwide, May suffers from a serious lack of cookies, a problem that most people are unaware of. People assume goats will eat just anything, which is actually deeply untrue. Goats are weirdly picky eaters, and cookies are one of their favorite snacks, as long as the cookies are the right flavor and texture. Miss May gets goat cookies twice a day at milking time, but she would love to be able to also have a noon snack of cookies.

Miss May also has difficulties communicating, since she cannot speak. Instead, she must bellow mightily at people to indicate her displeasure with the lack of cookies and neck massages. If her neck is not being sufficiently massaged, she sometimes has no choice but to nip the person who is failing in their duty to massage her neck.

Gentle readers, it is a hard life being a dairy goat like Miss May, but together we can change that. Your awareness will help make a better life for dairy goats everywhere!

17 June, 2012

Dairy Goat Awareness Week kicks off!

A close-up shot of Esk's face, white with orange patches over her eyes and an adorable pink nose.  At the top a caption asks Are You Aware of Dairy Goats? and at the bottom it says Dairy Goat Awareness Week June 17-23, Manor of Mixed Blessings.

That’s right, gentle readers, today is the first day of Dairy Goat Awareness Week, sponsored by the American Dairy Goat Association. Instead of my usual lazy posting every other day, this week I shall feature a different resident dairy goat every day, with a picture or two and a profile of her sparkling personality!

During this week, I’ll also be releasing Dairy Goat Awareness items in the Manor of Mixed Blessings Zazzle store, so that you can share your Dairy Goat Awareness with friends and family! For example, the image above is available on a t-shirt, as well as other products that have nothing to do with goats except that I’ve slapped a picture on them! Together, we can make a difference in the lives of dairy goats.

15 June, 2012

Answering Googled Questions

“why cant i pet a service dog”
“why ignore service dog”

The short and sweet answer here is because the service dog is working hard to keep his or her person safe. This takes a lot of concentration for dogs, and when you try to pet them, when you coo at them, when you try to get their attention, you are endangering the safety of the dog’s handler.

This is not cool.

If you saw me out with my cane, you wouldn’t try to kick it out from under me, would you? If you saw me out in my wheelchair, you wouldn’t grab the back and try to dump me out? Of course not. Trying to interact with a service dog without permission is pretty much exactly like doing those things. It’s true, Sid is a gorgeous dog and he’s very nice to pet, but he’s also doing a really important job keeping me upright. If you succeed in getting him to swerve towards you suddenly, it’s very likely that I’m going to fall and get hurt, and it will be your fault, just like you’d kicked my cane out from under me or tried to dump me out of my wheelchair.

Use some self-control and courtesy, and let service dogs work. Pretend they aren’t there. If you’re really so desperate to pet a dog right this very second and possibly you’re going to die if you don’t, ask before reaching for a service dog. But be aware that a lot of handlers are going to tell you no, even if it’s killing you to not be able to love up that dog (that doesn’t belong to you, and isn’t there for you, anyway), and you need to accept that and go away without argument.

13 June, 2012

Baby Animal Central

This weekend I get to pick up my final addition to the goat herd — a baby Nubian girl from Chribrydon. After that, there may be one last goat if Esk gives me a doeling, since I’d like to keep one from her.

Excitingly, my pumpkin Hulsey eggs should start hatching day after tomorrow. We’ll put the incubating on hold after that, at least for Old English Game Bantams, and let the little ones we’ve got grow up some so we can make final decisions about who will go and who will stay. We’ve also got five standard-size ginger red Old English Gamefowl coming in from Cackle Hatchery; I’m interested to see how they grow up. But clearly I need to get less lazy about taking pictures, because the Manor is overflowing with adorable baby animals right now and there’s only going to be MORE CUTE coming.

Meanwhile all the other residents are doing just fine. But we do need to build a bunch of chicken tractors so we can get the feathery residents of the Manor out on grass, and reserve the heavily weather-proofed pens for winter, which will give them a chance to get much less, well, chickeny. We’ll be using plans from Mother Earth News, but not buying the kit they endorse, which costs $250 for the PVC frame. I mean, really. You can go buy the PVC at Lowe’s for around $20 and cut it and bend it yourself. There’s only so much I’m willing to spend in the name of convenience.

11 June, 2012

Life goes on

It’s still sad times here at the Manor. I keep thinking I need to check on Aida and give her meds or food or fresh water and of course, I don’t. Wherever she is gone, she definitely does not need me to pill her anymore. The other critters don’t miss her much, since she went out of her way to not interact with them unless it was to yell angry Siamese curses at them, but the people sure do.

But life goes on, as the title says. Tomorrow the eggs in the incubator go on lockdown, with hatch scheduled to start the 15th. I’m hoping for a good hatch out of these eggs, they are my beautiful Feltner line Pumpkin Hulseys. The little brooder is currently full of Old English Game Bantams who will need to be moved to the big brooder, which will be set up in the shed, in order to make space for the new little guys.

Josie’s babies are growing like little quadrupedal leaping weeds, getting braver and more ambitious in their shenanigans by the moment. Miss May, my gentle giant of a Nubian, is an excellent Auntie who tolerates their hijinks right until they decide it would be a good idea to nurse from her capacious udder, at which point she sends them off with a lazy swing of her massive head. Esk and Annabelle, on the other hand, seem to be more intrigued by the notion that here are two goats smaller than them that they can pick on. The babies are too fast for them though, especially now that Esk and Annabelle (Annabelle especially) are beginning to get heavy with pregnancy. Annabelle, in fact, is getting huge with still half her pregnancy to go.

In other news, I need to pick out what classes I’m taking next semester and register for them so I can finally graduate with my Associate’s, which I shall then follow up by getting a bachelor’s degree. In, um, something. Maybe history. Maybe English. I have not yet decided.

9 June, 2012

Let’s talk about food, shall we?

It’s appropriate that one of the search strings that lead someone here recently was “lady of the manor food” because, hey, this lady of the Manor loves to talk about food, and think about food, and have conversations about food. Not just food as in “what recipe should I use to consume the excess of milk and eggs in my fridge?” but food as in “Is the US food system actually supplying us with healthy foods and treating its labor fairly?” Also food as in “Is Monsanto actually run by Satan, or did the Prince of Lies deputize someone to manage that horrifying business policy?” Oh, and food as in “Can we adequately fund the USDA, the FDA, and state agencies responsible for food safety please?”

One of my favorite issues is the way agriculture has lied about the safety of local foods. Many states, for instance, have adopted a model law that was drafted in part by the dairy industry that outlaws the sale, barter, or trade of raw milk and raw milk products. Coincidentally the one in Virginia also removes the requirement for dairy farmers to test their animals for brucellosis and tuberculosis. The dairy industry would tell you these tests don’t matter when all milk is being pasteurized. I’d say that it’s unethical not to test for them and remove sick animals, even those who are sub-clinical, from the herd. My goats are all tested for pretty much everything a vet can test a goat for, which means I have no fear of drinking their milk — they can’t give me brucellosis or tuberculosis since they don’t have it to give.

All I have to worry about, then, is food spoilage bacteria like Listeria, but then commercial milk is not necessarily free of these things, either. As we’ve seen from Salmonella and E. coli outbreaks in vegetables like spinach, the US food system is far from immune to dangerous incidents of contamination. In my kitchen, boiling and bleach ensure that the instruments that touch my milk stay clean and safe, just like the health testing on my goats ensures that the animals that give the milk are healthy. And yet I can’t offer to sell any of my milk to anyone, which makes me sad because a) I am unemployed and the money would be nice and b) I would like more people to be able to taste what they’re missing from pasteurized, homogenized milk. The fresh milk we get from May and Josie is sweet and creamy and complex and makes store-bought cow milk taste like slightly slimy water.

I could sell eggs, but labeling laws cripple the small farmer who can’t afford USDA accredited facilities. I cannot say my eggs are “fresh” or “cage free”, even though both of these things would be true. It can take a couple months for eggs to work their way from the farm to the grocery store, whereas the longest any of my eggs hang around is a couple weeks, and we consider those dreadfully old and suitable only for dog food. The fact that I cannot advertise my eggs as “cage free” is particularly galling, given that what I mean by “cage free” is “my chickens have a spacious, secure run with nice places to perch and access to a comfy, weathertight house, and get free-range time when I can supervise them to keep predators away” and what the commercial egg industry means is “these chickens live in a huge barn and never get to see the sky, but at least we didn’t stuff them into a space the size of a piece of paper.” Hens in the egg industry are still debeaked, because they’re still kept in conditions so overcrowded that chickens will turn to vicious acts of cannibalism out of stress and boredom.[1]

And now that Monsanto has started moving into the home gardening business, it will be even harder yet for people to avoid Big Ag. People are going to have to be exceedingly careful to make sure that the seeds they get for their own gardens are not genetically modified organisms, if GMO crops are something they want to avoid. I would not be incredibly startled to find that Monsanto plans to make sure the vegetable seeds they sell produce plants that are infertile, so that gardeners and small farmers can no longer save seeds from a crop that has worked particularly well for them.

It is, basically, a frightening and frustrating time to be doing this small farm thing, and most of the frustration is down to the undue influence of industrial agriculture. Industrial ag has a death-grip on the US food supply and intends to keep it, one way or another. As the local food movement grows and people become more aware of the issues surrounding food in the United States, the ag industry is turning more and more toward legislation to ensure that local food is at a disadvantage in the marketplace, if not outright banned. The original dairy law in Virginia, for instance, did not even allow people to consume raw milk from their own animals, meaning that anyone with a couple dairy goats who didn’t have a USDA certified facility for milking and pasteurizing was breaking the law. Luckily the law was amended after protest, so I’m not a fugitive from justice for drinking my own milk.

The best thing we can do together is keep having conversations, and keep an eye on legislation in our particular area. We need to encourage farming practices that protect the land and water, which industrial farming emphatically does not. We need to encourage farming practices that support growing diverse crops that are tailored to the biomes they grow in, to reduce the reliance on petroleum-based fertilizers as well as pesticides and herbicides that strip the environment of the things that keep it healthy, like soil microbes. We need to encourage farming practices that treat animals in the system humanely, and that provide a fair wage and safe working conditions for the people who labor in it.

And when we spot legislation that’s clearly tailored to make sure that industrial agriculture and the few companies that have a monopoly on it can keep behaving in ways that damage the environment and endanger not just the farm workers but everyone who has to breathe the air and drink the water nearby or eat the food that they produce, we need to speak up loudly enough that legislators can hear us. Just a few people on a letter-writing and phone-calling campaign to a politician’s office can have a disproportionate effect in local and state politics, where most of these laws are enacted.

[1] I LOVE CHICKENS, I DO, BUT THEY ARE VICIOUS BASTARDS SOMETIMES. SERIOUSLY.

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