Closing, continued

With the sale of the rabbits, the finalization of the harvest and the majority of poultry being sold on the 18th leaving us with only 10 chickens and three turkeys, I'm officially putting this blog on hold. There is so much going on right now that it's difficult to keep up and my focus needs to be, well...refocused. The chickens will be rehomed before our move and the turkeys will be dinner. We're ending on a high note of a feast. A culmulnation of our years of work whittled down.

Yes, I'm sad. Perhaps, not as much as you'd think. I learned a lot and had some very good times. The experiences the children have had are enormous and miraculous. Our goat of connecting with our food has been exciting and yet, also solemn.

Thank you for staying with us through all our (many, many) trials and tribulations. We had some successes I'm glad you've shared with us. For now, we're not saying "good-bye", just "see you later."

Closed

Yesterday, we closed our rabbitry. Sold it lock, stock and barrel to the extremely sweet girl that purchased the little buck boy a few weeks ago. Everything went: combs, waterers, feed, hay, extra cages, even the wool I had planned to process.

I've been thinking about doing this for a good long while now. It was a big decision and yes, it was very hard emotionally. I forgot myself this morning and went in the barn to see them and was met with empty shelves.

Eating Local- Blueberries

HeartSong Farms isn't just about creating our own food, it's also about supporting those around us that are driven with the same desires. Providing healthy, fresh eats gets my heart thumping. I love the community that automatically develops when a dish is involved. Cooking and eating not only nourish our bodies but also our minds and souls.

We had the opportunity last week to visit the local organic blueberry farm to pick some local berries for our pantry. The 2.5 acre blueberry patch was so pretty- nicely mulched, bushes nearly as tall as I am, friendly staff and gorgeous fruit.

We could literally stand at a single bush and get pounds in return. For all our picking, we got ten pounds in roughly twenty minutes.

Its a really wonderful feeling supporting someone you can see, talk to. I learned the farm is named after the owner's daughter Isabella. I learned how they keep the birds away with an air cannon. I met their dog. You just don't get that in a little plastic box.

For all we picked, somehow we only ended up with five and a half pounds when we got home...

May Worries

Renting is driving me mad. There, I said it. Initially, it seemed like a wonderful way to get to the area we wanted to live in, the house we rented seemed to be just what we were looking for in terms of expanding our farming base and had the possibility of long term renting with an option to buy. But sometimes you get into something, thinking you've done your due dilligence and it isn't at all what you thought. It happens. It's not irresponsibility, it's just the way things work out.

It's terribly frustrating and worrisome when it happens though. This week I planted the very last of the crops we'll grow here. We had initially thought we would stay here a few years as we worked toward our final goal but the landlords attitude towards keeping the house running, the exhoribtant cost of fuel for communting and the neighborhood restrictions have squashed that view. We're looking at October for moving. Right when the pumpkins should be hardening up, a month before the turkeys get butchered, the time when cover crops and garlic get planted.

I'm already looking ahead five months, trying to figure out when and where we'll move, how we'll get there and what we can do. Five months seems like forever. When you're considering leases, its just too far ahead to sign, but considering we're already five months into 2011 it's a drop in the bucket in terms of time lines.

Our initial dream of building our own home ourselves on our own land had withered and died as the new spring grass was rising from the once frozen ground. It just can't happen for us when we're going month to month in a "food or gas?" state of accounts. While I miss them, it was a silent blessing larger livestock didn't stay on board here this year.

Right now, we're downscaling. Five of the three month hens found a new home yesterday. We're looking to rehome four rabbits leaving just our two breeding stock. Half the turkeys will be gone by Thanksgiving, a few chickens this weekend will become groceries. We're still debating what to do and where to do it. Florida is a humid, hot task master making farming more a chore than a joy, the half a year heat is something I'm thinking paradise to escape. But these are vast, huge choices and with our past bad luck of moving to a place and then finding out it isn't condusive to our dreams, makes those choices even more foreboding. Makes it even more difficult to make a choice as my thoughts continuously run around all the ways I could (and probably will) screw it up.

The what-ifs of moving, chosing and planning are weighing heavy on my May mind.

Feral Food

On the back edge of the cleared section of the property, near the dip in the land where water likes to collect on rainy days, there is a thicket. A wild, untamed, overgrown, ferocious bit of foilage and felled trees. It's unlike the deeper part of the forest where the ground is mostly clear save for old barren branches who's leaves had been suffocated from the thick canopy and the odd shade-tolerant bush. In the thicket there are no tall trees to hamper the strong, sharp rays of the hot summer sun. Here food grows wild.

For over a week, I have traveled a now well worn path though the brambles, over stumps and under trees to search for the newly ripe blackberries that grow here. My arms are scratched and bleeding, my fingers stained as raspberry as my muck boots, my shoulders are deeply tanned. By now I have an order to my wild harvest, I have a map in my brain where I left the pink berries the day before that are sure to be ripening. I have a method. Every day I have been outside, sometimes in the early morning, before the the sun has risen above the tree line in the East, shading me from the tremendous heat while leaving the berries cool with spots of morning dew. I linger as long as I'm able.

Sometimes, I can only get out in the afternoon. This is when I work hard and fast to get as much I can in the shortest time. The jar of iced tea I bring with me is warm by the time I'm done about an hour later. The purple gems are hot, bursting with flavor that can only be seasoned by the sun. You can taste life then.

Every day I have a helper. A four year old that understands and is enraptured by the idea of feral food. Armed with her sipppy cup of ice water, a prarie bonnet and a little wicker basket, she dons her hot pink rainboots and tromps through the grasses to the edge of the thicket.

We have found, by a series of mistakes and injuries, the best way to harvest the biggest fruit. Neoprene coated garden gloves save my hands a bit but make my fingers clumsy. Using a stick to hold back the tall thorny stalks help us reach otherwise unattainable berries. Thick pants and tall boots are a must. Hats and bonnets keep the sun out of our eyes all the better to spy those fat, juice ones that hang down into the shade.

Every single day for a week we have gone outside with empty baskets and come back triumphant. Most days we gather about a pound of lucious fruit. Our best day was over two and a half pounds. During all this physical labor I have much time to think. I have decided that gathering food this way is a direct link to our heritage. I feel at peace, even in the blazing sun and above 90 degree heat. I feel connected to something that is older and richer than myself. At my side, Amelia is exhuberant and delighted as she spots berry after berry. I feel good about sharing this gift of the Earth with her.

I also feel sad. Disappointed, I suppose that wild harvesting food has been neglected with our current generation. That I haven't had the opportunity to be taught by my ancestors -as they would have done- what is safe, when things come into season and what I can do with the food nature provides. I miss what has been and confused as to how I can regain that knowledge. After the discovery of yet another wild food on the premesis, passion fruit, I am anxious to learn what other edible delights are right out my back door.

These berries are amazing. They are nature's bounty, survival of the fittest. The berries I harvest are genetically superior as years of unimpeded growth have squashed the weaker vines. These berries, when fat and ripe, hang heavy on the vines, shaded by the leaves, obscuring any notice from birds or other animals. They have survived without man's chemicals, taming or interference and are all the better for it.

With the rise in gas and food prices, finding the treasure of a thicket such as this is an opportunity not to be missed. Any little way we can contribute to lowering demand for shipping and chemical farming makes the Earth just a little happier and our lives a little richer. And the opportunity to harvest quality time with those you love, is something I now can't live without.

Poultry Concern

I'm an emotional spender. I know this, I deal with it. But on my very worst days, when I'm feeling a wreck and happen to be at a store (which I try very hard not to do when I am emotional) I tend to well...over buy. Even if it's just a couple extra things from the dollar section. When I had to rehome the goats that was a very sad time for me. I compensated with poultry. Something tangible I could have. While they were a cheap investment initially, I am realizing these large water fowl are eating more than I was prepared for.

Ducks, Geese and Turkeys eat a lot. They are meant to get big, fast. Part of the over buying was due to the non-sexing the three hatcheries I bought from didn't offer. The turkeys came from a guy with a local hatchery a few towns over who sold as a straight run. The others from two different feed stores that also bought straight runs from the hatcheries they ordered from. Apparently, vent sexing these fowl is different from a chicken though I haven't had luck doing that myself either. So, I bought enough to cover any day-old losses and crossed my fingers I got some females, planning to sell off or eat whatever extra males I ended up with.

A few months later I have been able to get the ducks and the turkeys gender figured out. Mainly because they have distinguishing features. The flipped sex feather on the rump of the ducks. The pouffed out strutts on the turks. The geese? I'm still unsure of.

Out of six turkey poults I have four toms and two hens. I have a friend interested in one of the Toms for Thanksgiving and one will be ours for that day, too. I wanted to keep a mated pair or whatever females and 1 male to try and breed out for next year, these heritage poults go for $10 a piece at a week old, $12 for 2 weeks and so on. It seems like a good investment. That is, if the Toms will stop chasing the dog.

Instead of selling off one Tom -which really wouldn't put a dent in the food consumption- I think I'm going to ask for those interested to put a small deposit down on the bird of choice. Maybe $10 that would go towards a bag of feed and give me a guarentee that we would have a buyer for these twenty pound beasts come November. I need to research free range butchered turkey prices.

The ducks I wanted only a mated pair and out of four I got two sets of boy/girl. According to a farmer in the check out lane at Tractor Supply (where all the best information comes from), one duck eats as much as nine chickens in a day. Even without the paper backing, that I believe. I'm trying to find a home for one of the duck pairs now. Feeding the equivalent of 18 chickens in a day when they aren't contributing yet by eggs, is a little rough. We would dispatch them and eat them, but we're not big duck fans here. They were never meant to be food at our house anyway.

The little chickens I bought we only lost one day-old, so we will have 23 hens laying soon. I have been having a hard time finding buyers for the extra dozens of eggs I get each week (we're up to 6 eggs a day now, on average), so I am trading five of them for two weeks of organic produce at a nearby farm. The five little hens don't eat a whole lot, and since we free range them on 10 acres, they forage for much of their food but keeping track of them and feeding them is still in the cards. I'll still have 18 laying hens by the end of July.

This weekend we're dispatching at least one rooster and the last of the Christmas meat birds. The poor dear hen has started laying. When I saw her in the nest box, the expectant nervous look she gave me said "See, I'm contributing!" I've been adding one of her pretty brown eggs in with the blues and greens that I have been selling. We *may* keep on the smaller rooster just because there is an opportunity for us to sell fertilized eggs but I'm not sure it's what I want. We came out here to sell healthy food to those around us, science research is great. I'm just not sure it's what this litte farm is about.

Out of all the animals we have the poultry and fowl really are the easiest to care for and mainatin. Other than our one hen still nursing the injury from the roos we've been very lucky health-wise with our birds. So, for now we're downgrading a bit on the number of animals we have and planning out what to do with the rest. I'd advertise more loudly that we have eggs for sale but I've heard so many horror stories of people getting caught selling eggs without a license (that is very hard to come by) that even the little bit of word of mouth we've been doing has me on edge.

It makes me sad to think we live in a country where trading eggs or milk from your farm to someone else for money or other food is a crime. The regulations make it difficult for anyone without a subsidy or a bank loan to get a foot-hold in the Ag community. I'm doing what I can.

Sunday Dinner.

It's happened again. Another agressive rooster. We hoped dispatching Terror Chicken would have made the cock to hen ratio fairer but it has not. I'm nursing a hen that has huge open wounds down both her sides because of rough mounting and then the two remaining males literally cock fight ON TOP of the poor mounted hens.

I understand that the young cocks are clumsy and I suppose we still have a fairly slim male/female ratio to work out. There are eight eligible ovulating females (out of twenty-three) and two males. I suppose that isn't quite good enough for those randy bastards.

While I was running for my life across the field  to reach the dog in knee high muck boots as a knee high Barred Rock ran after me, neck feathers flared and flapping like the fires of Hell, I decided then and there roosters are not for us. Only minutes before Rob (the man of the house and a war vet) in a single miraculous leap, jumped from the ground onto the hood of his Lincoln after a good loud scream in an attempt to scurry away from said rooster.

Someone in the hen house always has to be at the top of the pecking order. I just don't think it needs to be a male. Sunday, Chicken is on the menu.

Last batch

This is the last of the potatoes I planted in February. A few weeks ago, the leaves had yellowed and I dug around some pulling off a few of the top-most roots, recovered them and hoped 2 months later I'd have a bumper crop.

The potato plants didn't like that idea.

They decided that my impatience was impertent and all went off and died. I pulled them up today and got nearly another 1.5lbs. I am thinking that putting them right in the ground isn't such a hot idea. I also made the mistake of not hilling them after. I kept meaning to buy the dirt since all our top soil here is a sandy mess but just kept forgetting as I am wont to do.

I still have a good bit of sweet potato slips in the ground but the potatoes are over. This batch at least. I put in about 10lbs over a 100ft row and got back just under 5lbs. I'm not very pleased about this though the taters are especially tasty.

I'm going to set up a new bin for them and try hay growing. I still have time for that. Hopefully, this week I'll be able to get it going. Until then, we're having potatoes for dinner tonight and counting it a victory.

What is this?

And can I eat it....



And will it kill/maim/hospitalize me....

And if you answered "yes" then "no" to the above questions, do you have a recipe?

My Poulan's name is Rosie.

I jumped into a cold shower to cool off and rinse the layers of dirt that coated me from head to toe as soon as I came in from outside. It figures the A/C would break on the hottest week of the year. The shower helped immensely.

My hands are sore and my legs are trembling a bit. Hard labor will do that to you. I'm have a single serve black tea cold from the fridge that I'm sipping from a mason jar. I'm thankful I remember to make those a few days ago. I'm munching on a bowl of cold alfredo pasta with raw squash. The crookneck came from the garden. Finally, I have grown successful Cucurbita.

You see, the reason for all this bodily angst was my new best friend. Meet Rosie, my new rear tine tiller. Say "Hello" Rosie.

"Hello, Rosie." Already a smart-ass.

There she is all pretty and new from the store. Everyone I've met today has chuckled over my exhuberance upon aquiring this tiller. I was nearly bouncing waiting in line to pay for the gas I needed to fill my little red jug. Me and a lone guy from the store hoisted it in the trailer bed. He took the heavy end. Then questioned my intentions which I answered with hearty smiles.

I drove home with frequent glances in the rear view mirror. All I could see were the handles and that was enough. My grin stayed affixed the entire ride.

Unloading it was...interesting. In the end I propped a pallet to the back of the trailer and quick as you like it was on the ground. Immediately, I filled her up with petrol and guided her through the wrought iron garden gate. We had to manuver around the snaking vines of garden hose that feed my plants. This isn't our place, we're not investing in high-tech underground watering.

It only took me a moment to get her motor growling. Usually, the pull cord on the gas lawn mower takes me several arm wrenching tries. I was pleased pink with her instant gratification. The garden has been over grown past all caring. I try so hard to keep it weeded but the sheer size and number of unwanted growth is difficult for me to manage on my own. At first I was unsure and got too close to the fence or plants I wanted. I mucked about really being pulled along by a machine beast that ate up the ground like pudding.

Two hours later we were both coated in dirt, moving so smoothly through the garden I could manuever her one handed around bends. I could reach down and toss a stick clear without missing a boot clad step.

She looked pretty before with her electric yellow paint but now she looks good. We tore up half the field keeping out of the small patches of beds previously planted. Tomorrow, I'll rake up the ton of grass and weeds she spat out and maybe give her another go. Weeding the beds by hand will be so much easier and now I have a nice plot to plant my moon and stars. I'm wishing for watermellon by August. I'll also be expanding the pumpkin bed, adding more sunflowers and as far as my email is concerned, another shipment of sweet potato slips are on their way (what else have I ordered that I forgot about?).

It was only a few hours work but my body feels as torn up as the ground we covered. I'll be taking it easy tonight with a good book and lots of fluids. Tomorrow morning I have an appointment at a u-pick peach orchard and will again be working the field at home during the hottest time of the day. I really hope the landlord comes through with the A/C repair man.

Cheers, Rosie, to a job well done.

Angora-phobia

Today marked a milestone in our farm experience. We sold livestock. In March our Angora doe, Flora, gave birth to her first litter. I had been putting off breeding for a long time nervous and anxious about the possibility of landing an enormous litter of kits and no one willing to buy them. "Breeding like rabbits" isn't just a cutesy saying.

Its a big responsibility, this breeding business. But this is one of the main reasons we got into rabbits in the first place. They are small, economical, breed quickly, low maintenance and can bring in money by the hair on their backs.

We have owned rabbits for about 18 months now. I am still a nervous wreck when it comes to breeding. Flora's litter netted 7 babies, three of which didn't make it. This isn't uncommon for a first time mom and four healthy kits is a respectable number. Three does and a buck turned 8 weeks this past Thursday. I weaned them from their mom, giving them cages in the house for now while they await their new owners. Leaving the buck with the other girls could be a bad thing in a couple weeks. Two of the does are promised to an Alpaca fiber farm down south and the buck went home with a nice girl across the way.

For some reason, I feel safer having does on hand than bucks. Maybe because males are so under-prized in the farming community. You need only one, really. This sale today makes me feel a little more confident in breeding our rabbits for sale. I will expose Flora to Duncan again this week, giving her a break between litters to dry up and grow back her tummy hair. I will only breed her three times this year. I want to breed rabbits for sale, placing them in homes where they will be cared for properly and enrich lives by their companionship and fiber, not churn out a rabbit mill.

So, I mark today a success in the books of the HeartSong Farm Rabbitry.

Eggzy

My friend Ara just posted about this new site that connects flock owners with people looking to buy local eggs. I just set up an Egg Stand for HeartSong. Let me know if you can see it and what you think of the site.

The only thing that is a little awkward about the site (which is in a Beta mode BTW) is that there is no easy way to search your zipcodes. Egg Stands are listed in order of dozens available with the zipcode on the side.

Hopefully, in the future there will be an interactive map or a zip code or area search function but for now it's nice to join a community that supports local Ag through the US.

For our own flock we are up to 5 laying birds though I'm not 100% sure who the two new girls are. Their eggs are blue/greens so I'm thinking it's a few of the Borg Americaunas. The eggs are on the small side and not consistent just yet, they're just now over 4 months so it's a little early for them to start laying anyway.

The egg counter on the side will go away soon, I've completely lost count. It'll be replaced with our Eggzy Egg Stand link. (Can someone check to see if the link there goes to Eggzy or my farm?)

Feed prices and feeding a flock this size is getting a bit insane for me right now. If you're interested in some free-ranged eggs let me know, I've been selling them for $3 a dozen ($2.50 if you bring me an egg carton or return one of mine) and have 3 dozen available right now. I'm also looking to part with some 2-3 month hens of varying breeds.

Barn Kitty

This is Currently Unnamed Kitty. Our friends adopted a stray that turned out to be pregnant when they went to get it fixed. This is one of her four babies. For all my vent-sexing abilities we can't tell if it's a boy or a girl. Hence the fact it is still unnamed.

Re-evaluation

Some days I think I have things mostly figured out. There is a general map in my head vaguely outlining the steps and placements of everything that I want to accomplish to build a farm. I get excited, elated. The future seems clean and clear, a chalk drawing on black top, vivid and bright.

I look around and see what could be. A future of farmer's market stands, farm workshops, an animal gallery of friends in the barn that give me food, a garden wonderland teeming with bounty just out my back door. It's a heady thing to grow your own food. To wash the dirt off bright pink new potatoes and think to yourself I made that. There are now two pounds of potatoes that have been consumed that didn't need to be sprayed, dug up with machines, packaged or shipped. Half a meal I didn't have to buy. I get cocky sometimes with the power. I gloat at the grocery store skipping parts of asiles, Ha, ha Smuckers, not today! I make my own jam!

It's not a feeling of superiority, really, it's a feeling of self-reliance. The power feeling comes from my efficientness, my lack of dependency on store bought goods. The deep core knowledge that if some catastrophy came upon us, my kids wouldn't starve because I know how to harvest and put away. I suppose it's a sort of primal triumph.

These good feelings lead me to want to expand the farm; Honey, grain crops, dairy animals, pigs, draft horses, herd dogs, a mini fiber mill, heritage turkey breeding, brick ovens, solar power, milling, the list goes on and on. The chalk drawn map gets larger and larger.

But when does it end? Where do I stop? For now, I'm mostly concerned with providing for my family, selling excess -or trying to, doing things that interest me and that I enjoy. My rental restrictions provide a safety net to not expand too soon but then I get dismayed that the things I want to do I can't. All in good time, I know, but time doesn't last forever.

So, right now on the farm, we're watering and harvesting little bits as the springs plantings finally start producing, we're getting aquainted with the new fowl, watching them grow, we're planning to have our raw wool spun into a marketable, sellable product. I'm re-evaluating what I want to do overall on the farm starting with some personal internal evaluating. Balancing being a homeschool mom raising 5 kids, being in college myself, and persuing other personal interests besides farming is a difficult assignment.

Nibbles of Affection

 

The geese are absolutely fantastic. I know I go on about them but I just didn't realize just how fabulous they were before. If I had to choose only one breed of poultry to raise hands-down it would be geese. But I couldn't eat them. I just...can't.

They are a RIGHT.IN.YOUR.FACE. kinda animal.

I respect that.

Whether it's because they are larger than any other poultry we have or they are just predispositioned to be fearless of huge beings with forward facing eyes, they are the complete opposite of any other barnyard animal I've owned thus far.

Even after having them for 4 weeks, sitting with them for hours and giving them treats, the goats weren't even a tenth as friendly as these guys.

I've named them Sam and Jam (I reserve the right to change Jam's name later). Both are non-gender-specific names since I still can't tell what sex they are. And I have to call them something. "Here geesey geesey!" or "goose, goose, goose" just isn't working for me.

Today when I was out chopping up beet greens and lettuces from the garden into their blue swimming pool for their afternoon snack my two guys started biting me.

It didn't hurt, not really. But I had to come in to check if they were loving me or warning me.

Geese can be mean, it's one of the reasons I got them.

Apparently, nibbling is a sign of affection.

They love me, they really love me.

I love them too.

Fertilizer Failures

The garden has been a huge expense this year. First the tilling, then the fencing, then the seed re-buying, the sprout buying when the seeds failed, the tilling again, irrigation supplies, more fencing, the W.O.R.K. of getting it all together and now, nearly May and the garden is truly a pathetic 1500 square feet.

Which is really sad because soon the weather will get too hot. The green plants visibly wilting in the afternoon sun. Bugs will start coming in and slaughtering whatever fruit dares to even consider ripening. Other than the tomatoes and perhaps the underground roots and legumes, everything out there is visibly failing.

The forty-two cucumbers are only 6" tall at most after sprouting 8 weeks ago (and that height including the ones I bought from seedlings nearly that size already) and sport one tiny 1/2" long cucumber among the lot. The seventy seven pole beans are yellow and sickly looking, around the same size and though they're flowering, have yet to really take off after more than 2 months. The broccoli has produce only 2 small dollar coin sized heads before going to flower out of eighteen plants. Most of the over 100 corn stalks are yellowed and haven't grown since I transplanted them. Same with the 6 eggplants, 12 canteloupes, 30 zucchini, 15 yellow squashes, 6 strawberries etc. etc. you get the point.

Talking with my neighborhood plant guy, my problem is probably fertilization related. Meaning, I have none.

The earth up here in the wide open country is a layer cake of disaster; a half inch of white sandy soil covers a sandy-but-dark soil and six inches or so under that lies a thick redish orange clay. So much different than the rich, loamy ink black soil I had in the city. So ironic, really.

But I have ammended the soil with cured horse manure, epsom salts, coffee grounds and rabbit manure. Two weeks ago I bought a bottle of The Scotts Co. 100250 Miracle Gro Organic Choice Plant Food. The first "chemical" fertlizer that I've allowed myself to ever use. Today, I started the second round of feeding. It's a lot of work filling up a 2 gallon jug and hand watering by 20 square feet at a time. But gardens are work, growing food is work. It's par for the course in farming.

So, what do I do if this doesn't work? The first round didn't really seem to make an impact, I'm not sure what another dose will do. My lovely neighborhood farmer uses 16-4-8 and he gets fantastic results (he doesn't use herbicides, pesticides or fungicides, just the fertlizer in the ground.) And it's making me want to go out and buy a bag to try it.

For those of you that grow organic, what am I missing here? For those that know more about fertilizer than I do, what exactly is in this magic potion of a chemical mix that my garden is so desperate for?

I have always said I prefer local over organic but when it comes to dousing my own plants with unknowns I really am not feeling comfortable with this. Someone show me the way!

Meet Torture Chicken

This is Torture Chicken. He is a Rhode Island Red rooster. He is also mean. Very mean. The children named him Torture Chicken because he is so very mean. He is really, really terribly rough when he um..."sits" on the three older laying hens. He likes to stalk people. And give them the evil eye.

Torture Chicken is still fairly young for being such a jerk. He is one of the four week old chickens I bought myself for Christmas. One of the four cross-my-fingers-I-want-more-hens baby chickens that all turned out to be roosters. The other RIR got killed by the neighbor's dog. Maybe that is why Torture Chicken is so terrible. Maybe he's seething in uncontrollable fury over the loss of his only brother. Maybe his blood boils with the injustice of the world and his inability to do anything about it.

Whatever his reason he's a mean, onery bastard and this weekend will be soup. Tasty, evil soup.

I like dirty food.

Years and years ago I held a joint party for my two oldest kids 3rd and 2nd birthday. At the time, I was part of an organic CSA and had been delivered a box of food I was using to make a salad for our guests. I remember this distinctly as a turning point in my food views. I can still recall the tiny rectangular kitchen that had the best pantry I've ever used and the worst lighting, the little window that overlooked the front stoop and the pass through on the opposite side which housed a bar sink for no apparent reason. Out of every apartment I lived in I think I liked that one the best.

My mom was helping me get dishes ready while everyone mingled and the little kids played on the back screened porch in a blow up pool. It was a hot Florida June and the lettuces were huge. I took the romaine out of the box and a bug scurried out from under the bright green leaves.

The reaction from my mother was seared into my brain then and there. "Ewwww! There's a bug in it!" At that moment I realized that I had been conditioned to approve only sterilized food. Food that was ladened with pesticides and herbicides; fungacides and chemical fertlizers. Any of the above chemicals damaging cells to the point that smaller life forms died. Slowly poisioning our larger bodies. I remember replying along the lines of "Why would I want to eat food that would kill other things that ate it?"

My mother grew up on a piece of land in the sticks of New Hampshire that had an adjoining plot of fruits and vegetables. I grew up there too. As a child I would walk the field with my grandmother, gorge myself of sunkissed raspberries and sneak peeks into the dug out cold cellar -where I was not allowed- that held the secret delights of my grandma's canned foods. Then there was that time when my grandpa hung a gutted buck in the backyard. The contrast of crimson slashed through the downy brown I will never forget. The fur swayed in the night air as he hung by his back legs. I consoled the mounted deer head in the livingroom later, promising that I'd free him one day.

Our food came from the land. She grew up with the dirt, sweat and blood of farm life. I wonder when it become a purified experience for her? For me?

Lately, I've been finding that innocuous scene from a kitchen past rolling through my head. Such a short, simple phrase has had an enormous impact on my life and I find myself uttering the same question I gave in reply:

Why would I want to consume a food that would kill something else that ate it?

Every time I silently answer myself, I don't. And I can't fathom why anyone else would either.

Poultry Housing

The ducks, geese and turkeys are getting too big for the pallet brooder we made a few short weeks ago. I still can't believe how fast those geese grew. With their long necks extended they're up to my knees and still haven't fully feathered out.

I looked up Toulouse sexing and apparently the males and females are identical in coloring, behaivor and honks. I am sure now that we have 2 male ducks and 2 females. A set of Peach beaks and a set of Bright Yellow. We won't be eating these but one of the males might find a new home. I'm not sure yet. I like them all so much, only time will tell when personalities really emerge near laying/mating age.

But they all are too big to brood and we need the barn stall for hay and feed and other supplies. Ducks and geese are messy. A new house was in order. Our neighbor made a semi-circular brooder out of PVC and we saw a tutorial on Instructables.com for one as well. It seems a good, easy design. Quicker to build than the week-long chicken coop I built and less expensive.

Here is the PVC frame. We scored a Livingsocial.com deal for Ace Hardware which we bought the chicken wire half price. Our supply list included PVC and fittings, 2 sheets of plywood, 2 25ft rolls of chicken wire, and hinges. We used other things we had on hand from other projects to finish it off; a tarp, scrapwood, a bolt, wire. I think total we spent about $65 and have an easily moveable, built in a day, 10x4' poultry house.

Sorry for the half photos, I had the wrong lens on my camera and couldn't get far enough away to get the whole thing.

We'll be picking up a larger tarp later this week, this is all we had on hand and didn't realize it wouldn't go all the way around. For the ducks and geese this is fine. They are very hearty animals that are waterproof (once they get all their feathers). They thrive in inclimate weather. It's the turkeys we need to watch out for.

The PVC married to the wood makes it sturdy but still easy enough for me to pick up an end and carry around the yard. Since all our birds free range we can tarp the whole thing as well if we wanted to. I am considering making a smaller house to keep a pair of ducks in the garden, moving between the rows to help with bugs and weeds but for now this is where everyone will live. Hopefully happily.

2011 Yarn and Fiber CSA

Flora and her baby

I have been nervous about doing this but I think I can now safely start our 2011 Yarn and Fiber CSA. We have ten pounds of Gulf Coast Sheep wool ready to blend with our personal Angora fiber. The sheep wool comes from a local, neighbor farm and we have scheduled processing with a small fiber mill just south of us, Woodland Hills.


We're going for about an 80/20 mix on the sheep to rabbit ratio and will provide shares in the form of either roving or double plied yarn. There are only going to be FOUR full shares available to ensure everyone that participates recieves about 2 pounds of fiber/yarn along with other special goodies from the farm including a newsletter and information about the rabbits and sheep that have provided the fiber for your share. Your share price is determined by the amount of processing that is involved in the share you choose. (Half shares will include approx 1 pound)

The yarn and fiber will be undyed, neatly packed and shipped to you for the share price including a special shareholder day where you will be invited out for a fiber art day at the farm to meet the rabbits, have lunch and work on projects.

The cost of the share goes to supporting this new farmer, processing the yarn, supply new housing for the rabbits, feed, hay and the start of a rabbit only fresh vegetable garden.

We are dropping off the fiber for processing in May and expect to have it back in August. Enough time to get holiday presents made. Shipping will be done as soon as it is recieved. We will send you emails with the progress of the processing as it becomes available. Our Yarn and Fiber CSA shares also make great gifts.
I will update the shares available as they are purchased. If you are interested in a share please contact me at heartsongfarmfamily@gmail.com for more information.

We also have one Angora buck baby available for $35 adoption fee ($45 with workshop) and a few non-rabbit buying slots in the May 21st New Rabbit Owner Workshop.