Feed and water, bear visit

I knew it was about time for more feed, but I miscalculated how far our remaining feed would last. With 18 tons of non-gmo feed scheduled for delivery on Tuesday, I ran out of chicken feed Saturday morning. One thing chickens and hogs have in common is they both eat about anything. Fortunately we had just enough non-gmo hog feed to get the chickens by for a couple days until the bins were filled back up.

Feed wasn’t the only thing we were out of Saturday morning. After getting Amy loaded and off to the Abingdon Farmers Market, starting into chores, I quickly realized the animals didn’t have water. Which meant the rental cabins (both occupied) didn’t have water either. That’s a bad feeling. Especially not knowing what the problem is or even where it is. After making the rounds, I found where the cows had stepped on and broken a quick coupler valve. I didn’t completely fix the valve, but I at least got it cut off to restore water to the farm and the cabins. Add fixing it to the list for next week. 

We got along good making hay Saturday afternoon. I raked and rolled until Amy got back from the market. Then she finished the raking. Although we’ve gotten along good making hay, the hay we’ve made won’t be enough to winter our cow herd. We’ve been buying additional hay to make sure we have enough to get through the cold days looming around the corner.

Another big day of chicken killing on Wednesday. We usually catch them in the field the evening before, but just as we had loaded the crates to head to the shelters, a welcomed thunder shower came and stayed throughout the evening, preventing us from crating the chickens. But not preventing the kids from running around in the rain like they were at a water park. Almost an inch of rain that evening.

So that meant catching chickens Wednesday morning. We also caught chicks from the brooder to refill the shelters we emptied for harvest. Over 250 chickens killed and on ice before 11:00. We parted almost 160 of them that afternoon. 

Shout out to Mr. And Mrs. Rodgers who came to stay at one of our Airbnb cabins for their 46th wedding anniversary. I doubt many couples would choose to spend their 46th anniversary helping a family farm process chickens, but they did. They have stayed at the cabins several times over the years, finding something to fix with each stay. From a hand rail to an electrical outlet, ceiling fan, even replacing the starter on my old Jeep. They are salt of the earth kinda people. We’re blessed to know them. They were impressed and encouraged by the communal work of harvesting chickens on the farm. Ages ranging from 3 to 73, all working together. We are grateful. We know how precious friends and family are. We don’t take community for granted. 

Knock on wood, our predator pressure has been lower this year than usual. We’ve lost a few here and there, but no major massacres as in years past. On Thursday morning however, a neighbor passing by called saying that a bear was in the field introducing himself to the chickens in the shelters. Hasten and I rushed home to grab my rifle and his sling shot (to scare it away of course). By the time we got back, the bear had pulled the chicken wire off the front end of one of the shelters but fortunately had not yet killed any chickens. I’m sure there are plenty of other bears and predators out there, but at least we won’t have to worry about that one revisiting the chickens. We must’ve scared it to death.

We got caught up on mowing around the barn and the cabins but fell behind on everything else. Lots of freezer work yesterday filling beef shares, pork shares, and sorting through chicken. Another half inch of rain in the afternoon. Wren, who doesn’t usually opt to help with filling herd shares, put her homeschool math curriculum to good work counting out ground beef for herd shares. Sometimes she’ll help for a few minutes before going back to play and explore, but this time she helped steadily for hours with cold hands and a big smile. 

Here’s a couple sections from “The Mad Farmer, Flying the Flag of Rough Branch, Secedes from the Union” which might be my favorite of The Mad Farmer Poems by Wendell Berry thus far.

“From the union of power and money, 
from the union of power and secrecy, 
from the union of government and science, 
from the union of government and art, 
from the union of science and money, 
from the union of ambition and ignorance, 
from the union of genius and war, 
from the union of outer space and inner vacuity, 
the Mad Farmer walks quietly away.

There is only one of him, but he goes.
He returns to the small country he calls home, 
his own nation small enough to walk across. 
He goes shadowy into the local woods, 
and brightly into the local meadows and croplands. 
He goes to the care of neighbors, 
he goes into the care of neighbors.
He goes to the potluck supper, a dish 
from each house for the hunger of every house. 
He goes into the quiet of early mornings 
of days when he is not going anywhere.”

“Come all ye conservatives and liberals 
who want to conserve the good things and be free, 
come away from the merchants of big answers, 
whose hands are metalled with power; 
from the union of anywhere and everywhere 
by the purchase of everything from everybody at the lowest price 
and the sale of anything to anybody at the highest price; 
from the union of work and debt, work and despair; 
from the wage-slavery of the helplessly well-employed.
From the union of self-gratification and self-annihilation, 
secede into care for one another 
and for the good gifts of Heaven and Earth.”

Have a good week.

Will