Vacation?

I looked at the calender this afternoon and realized it is Thursday.  Though I have been far from relaxing; several hundred seeds have been planted in small pots, grow lamps are in place and farmer's market paperwork is in process,
untahsfarm.blogspot.com is taking a vacation this week.

Thanks for understanding,
Untah

Hog Heaven

I remember going with my mother to the butcher shop or the butcher shop area in our family owned grocery store and hearing her ask for different cuts of meat and discussing the qualities of each piece.  I wonder if mine is the first generation where we really don’t understand cuts of meat and if we accept what ever quality is in the refrigerator or freezer at our big chain store.  We are not involved with our food.

I our home we have strived to eat fresh and local when ever possible. When it comes to meat, other then venison or chicken, I purchased what ever Wal-Mart had in the cooler.  I never thought about where it came from how it was raised.  Then I watched FOOD INC. and was horrified.  But instead of choosing different routes of obtaining meat I just cut back.

This past Sunday evening I had a conversation with one of the high school teachers about a topic I have never had before.  It went something like this.

“So, Lisa, how would you like it cut and packaged?” Mr. Von

“Uhhh, I don’t know.  I guess I have to trust your judgment,” me.

“Well, you’ll get half a hog. What we usually do is….” Mr. Von proceeds to describe in great detail, with great pride how the students will process the hog into different cuts, what goes back to the butcher for smoking and what I can pick up Monday afternoon.

“Sounds good, I think 2-4 pork chops per bag and 5- 1 lb packages of bacon and 2 smaller hams rather then one big one.  It’ll just be the three of us for Easter this year,” me. 

My husband, Rick, came into the room just as I was finishing the conversation with a very quizzical look on his face. “We just bought half a hog!”  Our school offers a number of agriculture classes and a large portion of our students are Future Farmer’s of America.  Ande is taking Food Sciences this semester.  This Monday’s class was about processing a hog.  The hog was butchered (killed and prepared for processing) at a local butcher shop.  Mr. Von picked it up and the students processed (prepared into the different cuts of meat) it in class.  I witnessed the student’s cutting spare ribs and using a band saw to cut pork chops.   The kids were wearing white lab coats, working in teams and carried all of the meat out to my car.  I received 26 pork chops, 7 pork steaks; couples of roasts and still to come are the hams, picnic ham, several pounds of bacon and bratwurst.

Of course we had a pork roast for dinner Monday night.  It was processed at 2:30 and being eaten at 6. It can not get any fresher then that. I grilled the meat with just a little garlic and onion powder. The pork was so juicy and tender.  I can not imagine buying meat at the grocery store ever again.

Family

Most people would say that family is the most important thing to them. Family is the one and only thing I miss since I moved away.  My younger daughter has often said, “If we could just move our (extended) family to Wisconsin, it would be perfect.”   The day before we moved, my mom and I spoke at length about missing each other. She comforted me by acknowledging that though we may see each other less often, the time we would spend together would be more special and not taken for granted.

In the next few weeks we are going to have different sets of family members staying with us. I am so excited and can’t wait. My sister Cathy and her husband Scott will stay for the weekend and leave their girls for their traditional spring break at Untah’s Farm.  If memory serves me right this will be the first week they spend without their parents or grandmother. I love when Ellie and Maddie come to the farm.  They are so full of life and excitement.  They bring fun into doing chores and remind me of the innocence of working the land and caring for animals. When we go for walks they ask such interesting questions and observe the smallest details of nature.



Maddie, Ellie and Caroline in the garden last fall.



Last summer, Ellie and I took an    ATV ride to the top of the ridge and looked around.  Ellie shares my joy and awe of the landscape. We could see farms and trees and fields for miles. She told me this is where she was going to build her house. When I asked where my permanent house was going to go, she informed me that either I can stay in the mobile home or I could live with her. 

Maddie, Ellie’s younger sister always asks questions.  I was at a loss for words when we were tending to the chickens and she asked why the rooster liked to sit on top of the hens.  After a minute or two of stammering I suggested we involve her mother in this conversation.   On one of our treks down to the pond we stopped for a few minutes and just listened. I asked Maddie what she noticed. I expected her to comment on the cow mooing in the distance or the birds call to one another, but she noticed the bees humming as they made their way from wild flower to wild flower. We sat and had the most wonderful conversation about bees.  I was able to share my newly acquired knowledge of bees, and honey and pollination.  Maddie was most curious about why they sting and what she was going to share with her friends back home about the importance of bees in our world.  We were in the field for at least a half hour surrounded by dozens and dozens of bees and I am happy to report we never got stung!

My "baby"  Maggie is so grown up!

After Ellie and Maddie return home I’ll have just enough time to launder the linens and tidy up for my oldest daughter, Maggie’s visit.  I miss Maggie very much.  I respect she has her own life and did not grow up on the farm, so it would be difficult for her to pick up and move to the country, but I do wish it could happen.  Maggie is busy going to nursing school and working full time. When she comes to the farm I feel more joy then one can imagine.  For this trip, Maggie has asked me to show her how to cook and sew.  My baby is moving to her own place this summer. We are going to work on a shower curtain for her new bathroom and decorative pillows for her living room. I hope we will have time to make my famous Untah’s Farm Apple Bread.  My heart aches for days after Maggie leaves.

Then, the day after Maggie returns to Illinois, my Mom (Granny), sister in law (Lisa)  and her two youngest will come for a visit and celebrate Leander’s Sweet 16.  Caroline has been to the farm several times and enjoys the chickens.  She has mastered the call of the hens perfectly; “Oh laaadies” and the hens come running.  Caroline would collect eggs all day if she could.  Her younger brother, Richie has not been to the farm since he was a baby. Though he is only 3 I am looking forward to showing him the barn, woods and ATV.   I pray the weather is nice and he can run through the yard and fields.  

Of course there will be much celebrating and feasting; laughing and hugging.  Everyone loves the freshly laid eggs and comments on the deep yellow/orange yolks.  I have homemade raspberry jam for Lisa’s bagels. Canned apple sauce and green beans from last fall’s crop will accompany locally raised, grass fed beef for dinner. Perhaps a bottle or two of local wine will be consumed with the artesian goat cheese made just a few miles away.



The most wonderful women I know.
Next to me is my Aunt Patsy,Cathy, Granny, and Lisa



When all the entertaining is done and the house is cleaned up I will begin planning for the next time my family can come to Untah’s Farm.

March Madness

For the last few weeks I have been praying for an early spring.  I am tired of feeling cold.  I am tired of freezing rain and snow.  I am tired of layers of warm clothes and I am tired of having the house closed up.  I have a vivid memory of being at my grandmother’s house, all the cousins were there and it was early spring.  I can hear her telling all of us, “Go on now. Go outside and blow the stink off you.”  I remember the kitchen window being open and the damp, cool earthy smell making its way into the stuffy house.  Grandma was right.  I need to open the house, send everyone outside and blow the stink off.

I have been spending a bit of time each day looking out to the garden, planning, dreaming and picturing how it will look in a few months. Right now the snow is bare in some areas, with brown peeking through.   The dead green bean vines on the trellis are no longer as quaint as they appeared last October. The leafless trees are grey and brown.  The melting snow has given rise to piles of dog poop…and I don’t have small dogs.  Currently, I see boring brown, drab grey and lots of back aching work.

Strawberries from last years crop.

There is hope.  The seed catalogs have been arriving in the mail for the last four weeks.  The Seed Saver Catalog is my favorite.  The pictures are so colorful, so promising of things to come. I have looked back at my pictures and notes from last year.  The chickens are wandering out from their pen further and further as the ice has secured the main gate open. I wondered what they could be pecking at.  Sure enough, they found a few small patches of grass with the tiniest of green blades.

I know I am skilled in two things: talking and gardening.  I have gotten myself in trouble with both.  I have never gotten myself into a predicament with both, at the same time, until this week.

This year I am planning to apply for a spot at the Gays Mills farmers market.  It is a smaller market but the date and time work great with my schedule and I figured starting small was better.   I e-mailed the coordinator and received a call back. She was very helpful and answered all of my questions.  At the end of the conversation she asked what I would be selling.  I told her about the interesting dolls my sister makes and my cloth napkins from reclaimed fabric.

Sage is very hardy plant.  This is a plant
 propagated from another 2 years ago.

 Then, out of nowhere, I state that I am going to sell herbs. Why did I say that? I have grown herbs for my own use. I have had a great deal of success growing parsley, chives, borage, St John’s Wort, lemon balm, echinacea, dill and sage, but on a very small scale. Perhaps just a few plants at a time, and it did not matter when or even if they where ready to harvest. 

Now, I am committed to selling herbs on a much larger scale.  I am reading everything I can on growing herbs in my area. My husband is contributing light fixtures so I can convert my work shop to a mini indoor nursery. I will need to get grow lights, seeds; soil and everything else a person needs to start plants indoor and early… the seeds should be in the soil and under the grow lights…in the next two weeks!

It is always something at Untah’s Farm.  I am not worried though.  This is how some of my best adventures begin.

Coonhound

Inspired by Lenader

Sometimes you open your front door to those in need, and sometimes your back door is pushed open by someone you never know you needed.

Jeb (we changed his name to Copper) pushed his way into my home and heart with all the persistence and patience only a Coonhound could have.   He was my first taste of the country. 

If Copper was human, he would be one of those old men sitting at the local diner drinking coffee and shooting the breeze with everyone who walked in.  He would call across the small room to greet an old friend and mingle with the families that were not “from around here.”  He would tease the children and have all the patience in the world.  I know this, because Copper was not just any dog.  He had all the wisdom of an old man, and the playfulness of a puppy.   

I first met Copper when I went to see the house we would soon rent. He ran up to me, tail wagging and bawling to let everyone in the valley know that someone new was there.  As a man stepped out of the truck in the driveway he called, “Quiet, Jeb!”  This did not calm  the dog that was now sitting in between my legs looking straight up at me with chocolate-brown eyes.  He licked my hand as I scratched his chest.  He followed my husband, the owner and me around the farm, and waited patiently at the door while we were inside the house.  As we all were standing outside shooting the breeze, Copper came trotting up the yard and placed himself in his favorite spot, the center of attention.  As the owner patted Copper on the head, he told us that this was no hunting dog; he was afraid of every loud noise.  Due to this fact, he couldn’t find anyone to take him.  He was just a stinky barn dog.  Maybe it was the look in my eyes that gave away my immediate affection for this dog, and when my husband and I were asked to throw some food outside for the Coonhound once and a while, I said yes right away.  Little did I know my relationship with Copper would grow into something much more in such a short time. 

After moving in, it was common to see Copper happily rolling around in horse manure.  I would chuckle to myself when he would look up to the house, see me, and his tail would wag his entire body. Within a few weeks, his bawling in the middle of the night wouldn’t wake me up, and in the morning, he was there, prancing from front paw to paw   saying goodbye as I drove off to work.  When I would go on walks, he would always find me, trot 10 feet ahead, always checking behind to make sure I was still there. 

Soon enough, the house sold, and we were preparing to move to our property.  I had a 90 pound predicament.  The owners had put out ads for the dog and no one was interested in a Black and Tan Coonhound that was afraid of lightening, thunder, gun shot and men. Even though my husband said no, I somehow managed to convince him to bring Copper with us.  He told me that there was no way that Copper would be living inside smelling like that.  But, I had a solution for everything.  I would take him to the groomers, get him neutered, bathed, and his nails clipped.  He would be a whole new dog!  On this trip to the groomers, I made my first rookie mistake.

I put Copper in the backseat of our car, and started to drive the 20 miles into town.  Copper was not a stupid dog, even though he had that look about him.  He was persistent, and he had patience.  Even with all my efforts, by the time we were in town, Copper was in my lap with his head out the drivers side window.  It was then I understood why Coonhounds ride in the back of pickup trucks.  After an interesting drive, and being hit in the face with a constantly wagging tail, we were at the vet.  A day later I picked up a neatly groomed, nice smelling, neutered Copper. When we got home he jumped out of the car, our two other dogs didn’t know what to do.  He smelled different, and he was… less… “manly”.  After an hour or so of figuring out the hierarchy, Copper went in the house, hopped up on the ottoman, and gave the other dogs a look that rang out loud and clear, this is where I will lay, and you two will not bother me with your silly dog games. And that is how it was. 

There were some food disputes, some wandering that needed to end, and some teaching an old dog a few new tricks.  But, Copper learned quickly and I would like to think he was happy to give up a few freedoms to be inside during a storm and drink fresh water whenever he wanted.  He was always there, always a trusted figure in the house.  Whenever I was sad, he would sit by me, rest his chin on my lap, and stare into my soul with eyes that would melt my heart.  He would seem to shrug and let me know that things would be okay, and that I should try to be more like a dog, for sometimes it was easier. 

Copper could be trusted with all types of children and became the constant companion of my niece Maddie when she came to visit.  He approached visitors head on with kindness in his face.  Everyone loved Copper.

Once grey fall afternoon, my husband was building the front porch and commented that he heard Copper bawling all afternoon.  The echo of Copper’s voice made me think he was in the silo. Four o’clock, dinner time was approaching and he was no where to be found….just his calling out.  We went to investigate the barn.  We found Copper looking from the hay mow into the barn, unable to figure out how to get down.  We assumed that in his excitement of chasing a raccoon he climbed the very old, very rickety, hand made ladder that was leaning up against the wall into the mow. My husband went up into the hay mow as I placed a 2x 6x 6 foot board against the edge of the opening to make a ramp. My husband nudged Copper as my youngest and I grabbed the big dog and eased him down the board.

When we had to put our 16 year old German Short Hair Pointer down, the entire house felt the sadness.  Caliber didn’t want to play as much, and Copper seemed to not have any energy left in his old bones.  When I looked at him, he just looked tired.  He had a hard life out doors.  He had scars on his chest, ears and hip from unknown disputes.  He had torn ACLs from running on uneven ground. When it was time I went to the vet alone with Copper.  I grieved for days. This special dog was buried next to his elder, Chase.

Copper was the first friend I had in Wisconsin, and he was my teacher.  Now when I think back about this wise, old soul I know he had a full life.

Chickens Don't Drown

Soon after moving to Wisconsin, my mother sent me a cartoon.  The caption was, “I love living in a small town.  When I forget what I am doing my neighbors remind me.”  It is so true.  Truths and rumors spread very quickly. Since two of my neighbors were part of our chicken coop delivery, most everyone around knew we were getting chickens.  Advice and questions began to flow from every direction.  “Are you selling eggs?”  “Have you ever butchered before?”   “What kind of feed are you using?” 

Our church has a small congregation and its people are kind.  During the fellowship time after church, I was drinking coffee and enjoying my doughnut when a very friendly, uninhibited member sat down next to me. She began to tell me everything she knew about chickens.  She did not stop talking for  fifteen minutes and shared information regarding every chicken she ever owned.  Of the entire conversation I remembered one thing.  “During a big storm I did not chase the chickens in and they all stood there with their beaks open to the sky and they all drowned.”   Oh no I thought. I did not read anything about this.  Their heads are so little, therefore their brains are tiny, and maybe they don’t know to go in from the rain.

Several weeks later, her words echoed in my head, “….and they all drowned…” as I saw the biggest, darkest clouds beginning to roll in.  I quickly went down to the chicken coop and began to encourage the ladies to go inside.  Just as soon as some would go in, some would come out.  Our chicken coop has one people door in the front and two chicken doors that swing down into a ramp on opposite sides.  So, I closed one chicken door and shooed the hens to the fenced area by the open door.  I quickly secured the gate as the last leghorn scurried through. 

Thunder grumbled deep and loud.  I could see the huge dark cloud getting closer and the chickens did not seem to care.  “…and they all drowned…..they all drowned…”  It had to be true.  These pea brained fowl had no idea how much danger they were in.  The first rain drop landed on my arm and my heart began to race.  I did not invest money into the coop, supplies and birds to have it all go to waste because chickens don’t know to go in out of the rain.

I got a broom and gently gathered them into the coop through their door.  As fast as I could I ran to the people door, went in the coop to latch the chicken door, only to find half the chickens ran back outside!  Back out I went and the people door swung open in the wind and the rest of the girls came out side.  Back to the people door, I shut it and latched it.  Grabbed the broom, gathered the chickens on the correct side of the yard, latched the gate and strongly encouraged them inside.  Now lightening cracked and I was drenched.  I ran back into the coop through the people door and sure enough three chickens were back outside. It had become a battle of the wills and I was not going to lose!

Outside I went, latched the door and chased the three stragglers back in.  This time I thought I would outsmart them.  I crawled through their door after them. The opening is only two feet wide and three feet tall.  Confidently I stood up, latched the chicken door and smugly told them who was in charge.  I went to the people door and smacked right into it- it was latched from the outside!  If chickens could laugh I am sure they would have.  I sheepishly unlatched the small door and crawled back out side into a violent summer storm.  I spied the broom leaning up against the building and used it to prop the door closed.  I then went in via the appropriate entry and secured the coop and walked up to my house.  I prayed no one was watching. 

After a few more storms and leaving the chickens to their own destiny, I learned chickens, in fact, don't drown.

Chicks

Once we had our chicken coop in place we were ready for our poultry.  I did all the research I could.  I read Back Yard Poultry magazine and Storey’s Guide to Raising Chickens.  I studied several web sites; my favorite is www.welphatchery.com I learned that when ordering chicks you can order a mixed batch or pullets (females only).  I am still amazed that they can tell the gender when the bird is only hours to a day old.

I had our “nursery” all prepared and ready to go.  I used the bottom half our travel dog crate, as we have giant breed dogs this worked well.  A large cardboard box or large metal feed trough works well too.  Be sure to allow enough room for the chicks to be able to warm themselves under the heat lamp or move to the other end of the box to cool themselves.   The sides should be tall enough to keep out drafts and a covering is necessary if unwanted creatures can get in. Make sure there is enough ventilation to maintain heat and air circulation.

I placed a thin layer of shavings in the crate; I also had a small feeder and waterer in place.  The husband contributed some scraps of wood, roughly 2 x 2 x 16 inches for the babies to perch upon. I set these on the floor of the crate.  I used a clip on heat lamp with an approximate wattage of 175.  I would need to watch the chicks closely to make sure it did not get to hot.  If the chicks were panting or not under the lamp I raised it up.  If they were huddling very closely in the center of the light, I lowered it.

For feeding the chicks, I used a commercially prepared feed, recommended by the agri- center.  I added a nutritional supplement to their water for about three weeks as our chicks were shipped to us.  This past summer I let one of our broodier girls hatch two eggs.  For these chicks I used the supplement for only about a week as they did not have the stress of transportation.

We ordered our first batch through Nelson’s Agri Center.  The chicks came in a cardboard box with little holes for air.  I could barely see the small fluffy puffs yellow. I could hear them cheeping loud and demanding!  I had to be ready to pick them up as soon as possible after they arrived in the store. Chicks can go without water for only about 48 hours after they are hatched.   When I arrived home I individually remove them from their box and dipped their beaks into the water and made sure they swallowed the water.  I kept the waterer close to the heat as some chicks are very curious and active and others are calm and don’t wander.  Access to water is very important. 

I found that like all creatures, chicks have individual personalities.   I could spend long periods of time just watching the chicks interact with each other and their new environment.  It was amusing to watch them learn to scratch the shavings and navigate the depth of water with their beaks.  Balancing on the perch while falling asleep does not come naturally to all chicks.

The babies remained in the crate for about 3 weeks.  When their feathers began to come in I knew they could regulate their body temperature and fend for themselves a little better.  Chicks are cute… chicks loosing their baby feathers are awkward looking and I dubbed this stage “teenage hood”.   During the teenage period I moved them to the coop but left them inside for about a week to 10 days.  My understanding is that this time helps them adjust and identify the coop as their home…the place they roost at night. 

I am pleased to say that with a reputable provider, help from different sources, patience and good observations skills I have been able to raise all of our chicks to adulthood. Chickens are a wonderful asset to a farm.  They eat unwanted insects and many table scraps.  They provide nitrogen rich waste for the garden.  Of course the eggs and meat are the best I have ever tasted. I can’t imagine our farm without chickens.

Pictures courtesy of the internet.