June 11, 2013 by Head Farm Steward

What is it You’re Trying To Do?

Q: What is it You’re Trying To Do?

A: Wow. What do you mean by that?

Q: Why did you move here?

A: Well, it was Grandma’s house. Almost every Christmas of my life has been here. It was available, affordable and emotionally satisfying. Plus it’s a good place to raise the kids.

Q: But can’t you do all that without the animal work?

A: Oh. Well…I mean…I guess. I could rent the fields to another farmer who may or may not farm in a way I approve of. He could spray whatever out there, abuse the ground in whatever way, cause erosion and pay me for the abuse but isn’t it better if I just manage it myself?

Q: So what are you managing?

A: Well, I can grow forage without even trying. I mean, it’s silly how easy it is to grow forage. I just depend on free sunlight and free, occasional rain. But grass isn’t worth much so it really doesn’t matter how much I can grow unless I can find a way to add value to it. Right now we’re using cows to convert that grass into beef and milk. Milk isn’t worth a whole lot. Beef isn’t worth a whole lot. But they are worth more than grass. Further, using cows to mow saves me from mowing. Grazing, trampling and manuring also help more grass to grow than would otherwise be there so that means I’m fixing more carbon than my farm would otherwise…so I get a happy green feeling inside. So, to answer your question, I guess you could say I’m managing grass.

Well, except I jokingly refer to myself as the “Head Farm Steward” (a title I am anxious to hand to one of my much more capable children). Stewardship has little to do with cattle or grass. It means I’m accepting that I am in charge of a few resources for a short time and have to do my best to increase those resources. That means more dirt, more carbon, more grass, more earthworms, more dung beetles…but it also means more money. I mean, 5 talents or 5 acres, I want to hear, “Well done.” We are currently using grass to convert sunlight, sunlight and time to convert beef into dollars. Would we see more increase if I planted forests to passively fix carbon, absorb sunlight, mine nutrients out of the soil and create value? Maybe. Dunno. Would it be better to open a composting facility? Dunno. Would it be better to build an array of hog floors, haul in nutrients, add value to corn and haul out manure? Maybe…maybe not. That sounds like a lot of work. Also, it sounds like a lot of manure for my few acres to metabolize.

At any rate, “management” sounds/feels different than “stewardship”. I wish you had asked me what I was stewarding. That’s an easy question. I’m stewarding land that has been in my family since 1843. My land surrounds the graves of my mother’s fathers. In a way, I’m honoring the work they did when had their turn on this land. Honoring my father and mother…well, my mom’s father and mother. Dad’s side are all buried in Eastern Tennessee.

The “what” question takes us to the “how” question. That takes us back to grass and cows…and chickens. …and ducks. …and a small orchard. …and children. …and an alarmingly small amount of money. And it’s the money I am working on growing as I find that it helps with so many problems. And that’s why I need sunlight, rain and cows. And that’s why we need Eddie Van Halen (bonus points if you got that reference without using Google).

But here we are. Taking things of lesser value and adding value to them. Chicks to chickens. Chicken feed to eggs. Logs to lumber. Sunlight to grass. Grass to beef. Girls to women. Boys to men (ABC BBD (…mmmm hmmmm)).

So now I ask you, Are you adding value to something each day? Are you conscious of your need to steward your resources and seek increase?

May 23, 2013 by Head Farm Steward

Adventures in Childhood

Let me put together several recent conversations I had with my kids into a single narrative.

“Dad, what did you study in college?”

“Well, I majored in Biology…though I have a liberal arts degree. That means I took more classes than I could have, with a wider focus than you might suspect but still spent 40 hours/week dissecting dead cats and sharks for Comparative Vertebrate Anatomy. I also had a job on campus caring for animals in the Biology department. I raised rats and mice, cared for the snakes and lizards and cleaned the salt-water aquariums. But mostly I tried to convince your mother that I was the right guy for her while working several jobs at once so we could finish college with minimal debt.”

“Snakes?”

“Well, yes. But also salamanders and frogs and turtles. In fact, when we look through Tom R. Johnson’s book, “The Amphibians and Reptiles of Missouri” I have observed or collected nearly everything pictured short of the toads that are only common in Western Missouri.”

“Yeah, but…Snakes?”

“Yup. Snakes. Lots of them. Most of the snakes that live here are safe to handle and, if you are careful how you act around them, actually seem to like it. To them, you’re just a warm tree. Tom Johnson’s book indicates that there are probably 3 Prairie Kingsnakes for every acre. Now, to be sure, ask me before you go picking up snakes. There are a few around here that can really hurt you and one you may be allergic to. Here, hold this Prairie Kingsnake. ”

“Where did you find it?”

“The neighbors are cultivating their field to plant beans. That ruined his habitat so he was crossing the road looking for a new home. Since we have acres and acres of grass he’ll probably find a home here.”

And that’s how it goes. We talk about stuff. We go out and do stuff. We take pictures of stuff.

Beyond the wildlife, there’s cool dead stuff out here too! My cousin’s bull died in the creek two or three summers ago and with the recent rains the bones resurfaced. It’s an exciting time of discovery…and work. They dig for cow bones in the creek bed then haul them over hill and dale to our back porch. I think they want to re-assemble them…like I need a bull skeleton in my living room. Hmm…let me know if you want a cool bull skeleton in your living room. We haven’t found the skull yet.

But it’s not all work. Sometimes it’s just fun to get wet.

Or pick up a dead frog. Whatever.

Moving out here wasn’t necessarily the best financial decision we could have made but none of the children in our former subdivision have excavated cow bones from a creek bed. I drive a long way to work each day. I think it’s worth the sacrifice. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my kids will be in therapy after years of helping butcher chickens, swimming in creeks, fighting off ticks and going potty in a bucket. Who knows. Maybe they would have been in therapy if we had lived in the suburbs and taken them to ballet. At least they will be physically strong and healthy as they sit on the therapist’s chair. Maybe they’ll give the therapist something interesting to listen to for once. There is the very real possibility that my kids will be able to handle what life throws their way…that they will be well-adjusted, thoughtful, caring, curious, intelligent men and women of God who don’t need a therapist, just a little time for reflection in the woods.

May 6, 2013 by Head Farm Steward

Regularly Scheduled Simplification

There is only so much I can ask of my wife. She is intelligent, beautiful and strong. She cooks, cleans and cares for all 5 of her dependents (including me). She teaches the children. She washes, sorts and boxes the eggs. She runs her own business, continues her ongoing education as well as that of the children and keeps the farm running when I go sit in the A/C at a desk job. It is important that we simplify things as much as possible…that I stack the cards in her favor. She is strong but she has a hard time moving chicken tractors. She is willing to work hard but tires out long before I do. There are only so many hours in a day and I can’t expect her to be able to do everything I can do. So we have to simplify.

What do I mean by that? Recently we took possession of 6 new heifers. Now, six heifers doesn’t look like much on paper but it’s a whole new deal for us. Rotational grazing. Mob stocking. Hoping and praying that the green stuff growing in our fields is appetizing to our hooved animals. We have to learn how to move fence, how to move the water tank, how to troubleshoot shorts in our fencing, how to watch for problem weeds and to monitor how full the cows are. Again, on paper, no big deal. But in real life, learning all of that all at once is a bit daunting. Learning all of that while keeping the food cooked, the dishes washed, the laundry folded, the kids educated and the business growing is pretty rough (though she does it all while looking great).

So we simplified. We scheduled our production for the year and made sure several things were finished or on break before the heifers arrived. The broilers are in the freezer. No more chicken tractor chores. The pigs went to market. No more planning and moving pig pastures…or working pig pasture recovery into our grazing schedule. We planned ahead, knowing our spring is busy and staging things out so we could learn new skills away from the pressure of existing skills. Now, there’s no getting away from housework or even garden work but just freeing her from checking broilers 3-4x per day and liberating her from her fear of 300 pound hogs lightens her workload enough that she can afford to focus on these new heifers just when they need it without shorting the kids of the time they need.

The goats were scheduled to be sold in December. The two females finally left today. Once they are gone we’ll be down to just ducks, cows and layers. Over time we’ll work pigs back into the rotation. In the fall we’ll do another big batch of broilers. In between we’ll attend Cattle Grazing University, Chism Heritage Farm campus, and the school of hard knocks. Experience is a great teacher. I have read every grazing book I could get my hands on and I’ve learned more in the last week than ever before.

I think pigs, turkeys, goats and broilers all have a place in our lives, in our business and on our farm but we can only ask so much of ourselves. At regular intervals we plan time to review what we are doing, why we are doing it and verifying that we are making the best use of our time. Are we happy or just busy? It makes me happy to see the pigs run in the pasture. I enjoy butchering chickens with my children. I love our goats. That said, today I’m content to watch the cows eat grass. They have a lot to teach me and require my full attention.

Most importantly, I have to consider my wife. This is our dream, not simply mine. I can’t abuse her with hard labor and expect her to remain enthusiastic.

March 27, 2013 by Head Farm Steward

So. That’s How My Evening Went.

I had a long day at work Monday. Not that the work I do is difficult, it’s just that I screwed something up. I try not to burden my blog with my primary vocation but, in this instance, it suffices to say, while doing some fairly routine maintenance, I broke a production server in the middle of the day and scrambled to fix the problem before anybody noticed. I barely pulled it off but I’m sure I took minutes off of my life. One of those moments when your heart jumps into your throat, you break out into a sweat and you curse the fates that brought you to the Calypso’s island of the tech world held prisoner in her not unpleasant grip forever but unable to return home. So anyway, enough about my job. It pays the bills while shortening my life, eating away my time and crushing my dreams…yet at the same time, enabling me to continue losing money farming.

In the late afternoon I stopped by my parents house to attempt to answer some questions about their new laptop. I learned first-hand how terrible Windows 8 is. It’s awful. I have no use for “Metro-style” apps. But I can make it work. I click on things, make some configurations, install a printer and my mom looks at me and says, “Do you go this fast when you teach classes in Florida?” Sigh.

Around 8:30 in the evening Aunt Marion called needing a white 18″ zipper, wondering if Julie just happened to have one laying around. She did. Not that Julie is a world-champion seamstress like Aunt Marion, just that when we moved into Grandma’s house there was a bundle of sewing supplies left behind. Julie and I agree that the roads are good enough for her to drive the mile to Aunt Marion’s house and she sets off. Aunt Marion doesn’t seem to sleep. You’ll find her sewing, cooking or checking her stock at any time of the day or night. I guess after 94 years she’s tired of laying in bed. Maybe she’s racing to take advantage of her remaining time. I don’t know. She needs the zipper now or she wouldn’t be calling.

As Julie drives away, I leave the kids playing in the front room to go check something in the back room. The “Family” room (built when mom was in high school and used by grandma for special occasions, now home to our wood stove. I’ll come back to this.). As I’m walking through the kitchen I hear something rattle in the basement. “That’s strange, the light is off and the kids are in the front room.” My phone rings as I walk toward the basement. Just as Julie says the words, “Well, I’m stuck” I put my eyes on a raccoon in our recycle bin. The recycle bin in the basement. “I’m sorry you are stuck, honey. We have a raccoon in the basement.”

Now, in the history of the world, how many times has that conversation happened? A wife stuck in the snow while taking a zipper to an elderly neighbor and a husband finding a furry mammal has invaded the house. It could have been worse. I could have been stuck in the snow when Julie discovered the bandit. I quickly realized how unprepared I was. I was not carrying a gun. Even if I was, I’m not going to shoot a raccoon with a 9mm hollow point bullet in my basement. What a mess that would make! And my 10/22 was put away in the dining room. So I did the only logical thing remaining to me. I froze.

Now, let’s set aside the concern that I might freeze were this a 2-legged invader and I was unarmed. I wouldn’t. Well, I might. Let’s set that concern aside. I saw a furry little monster who could not possibly escape except to run up the stairs past me. He pushed out a broken window to enter the basement, fell 6′ and could not return that way. He chose the only logical option and ran to hide under the bathtub.

You see, when they built the addition that included indoor plumbing and the famous “Family Room” they didn’t include a bath tub. But grandpa wanted a bath tub. So they put one in the basement. I have never known anyone to use said bath tub. It’s just there. It drains directly into a floor drain in the basement. There is a slight partition but no door. Just a tub. We don’t use it. We don’t even look at it. We just use it as a shelf, really. I had never noticed that it sat 10″ from the wall and it was accessable to things small and four-legged…like a raccon.

Did I mention my wife was stuck in the snow in the middle of nowhere and not wearing a coat? Oh, she wasn’t wearing a coat. I love my wife. I hate raccoons. But I love my wife. But there’s a raccoon in my basement. And what I really want is to go play video games with my kids.

You should know by now that I love my wife. I find I have little control over my love for her. It came to me reluctantly as I was a particularly stupid 17 year old. But it happened. I love her. I find the intensity of my feelings for her wax and wane over time but persist throughout. Contrast this to my burning hatred for raccoons. I hate them. They eat chickens. My chickens. They dig up plants in my garden. They eat my corn. They jump out at unexpected moments when I can’t swerve my car and break the bumper of my car in their crazy kamakaze road attacks. They, most recently, attempted to (get this) dig a hole in the roof over my kitchen causing a river of water to run off of my roof directly onto my kitchen counter during a night time heavy rain storm. There is no waning of my burning hatred, only persistent intensification. When we first moved to the farm I would feel pity and remorse when a raccoon was caught committing a capital crime. I would aim carefully and pull the trigger reluctantly then bury the animal in the compost bin along with the chicken he was caught eating. That reluctance was quickly burned out of me. I am not eager to do the work. I would rather just leave them alone but there seems to be no end to the raccoon horde constantly testing my defenses, stealing chickens the moment my fence shows weakness and, now BREAKING INTO MY HOME to lick the aluminum foil in the recycle bin! That’s too much. But my wife needs me right now. And I love her. But there is a raccoon in my house. And I hate raccoons.

So I called my father. Now, to be fair, it was 8:45, I suspect he had his robe on and was ready to call it a night but he was…maybe…less than enthusiastic about coming out in the cold again. When his SUV couldn’t pull the van he returned to the house with Julie and asked me to go with him. Since Julie was now home, I handed my oldest son the gun, asking him to guard the stairs while Grandpa and I took the tractor down to the car. We got that sorted out in short order and dad delivered the zipper by tractor. In the dark. In the cold. With the wind blowing. On an open-cab tractor. You can understand his lack of enthusiasm. He stopped by to see what could be done about the raccoon issue, helped me set my live trap and said goodnight.

Live trap. It’s branded “Have-A-Heart”. Yeah. They should rename the brand “We’ll-Hold-’em-Till-You-Bring-A-Gun”. Do you know how unpopular I would become if I relocated every raccoon I could catch to someone else’s farm? Raccoons are territorial anyway. They would either have to fight for new territory or fight to return home. Relocating raccoons is pretty heartless. We set the trap with some leftover buffalo chicken we made for supper then sit at the top of the stairs listening. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I sneak down. Maybe he has moved. Oh, he moved all right. He cleaned out the trap.

I baited the trap with some scrambled egg and peanut butter. He ate it but did not trigger the trap. It was growing late. I was growing desperate. I put a cantaloupe rind under the trap, near the trigger and put a couple of boards and boxes on top of the trap to block him from climbing over the trap to escape. It was 11:00 when we heard the trap close. I offered him a blindfold and a cigarette. My gun jammed.

While all of this is happening I am discovering I am either allergic to something in my basement or, more specifically, to raccoons. I’m hoping to see/hear a raccoon while sitting at the top of the stairs with a gun in my hand and I’m sneezing and wheezing and otherwise ruining the hunt. Are you with me to this point? I blew up a server at work, I failed at teaching my mom how to use her new laptop, my wife got stuck in the snow and I couldn’t help because a raccoon I’m allergic to has invaded my home. At this moment my wife turns to me and says, “We need to remodel the bathroom.”

Honey, let me fix the leaky roof and block the raccoons out first. Then we can talk about remodeling the bathroom.

March 12, 2013 by Head Farm Steward

Playing in the Rain

Sunday we had a strong wind out of the South, warm temperatures and an inch of rain. The kind of rain that paints the ground green. Mom was out of the house so I took the kids on an adventure.

I have to cut wood. Have to. I have a number of trees down and I’m running out of time. But we don’t have to kill ourselves cutting wood. I told the kids I would use one tank of gas in the chainsaw while they dragged limbs and stacked firewood and then we could have some fun. Well, we had fun the whole time. Dripping, soaking, pruny-fingered, wet sock fun.

Our chores behind us, we tromped off through the pasture to the branch to see how deep the water was. It was deep. And swift. Normally the branch is just a trickle. It’s the weak point in the fence that the neighbor cows use to come steal food.

We threw sticks in the water and watched them float away. We probed the water to see how deep it was. I warned the kids of the danger. The youngest fell in anyway.

I have a million things to do. I don’t have time to splash through the puddles, exploring pastures I have played in my entire life but if I don’t do this now, when will I? The farm is a family experience…I have to experience it with them. That’s kind of the point. I can sacrifice sleep to get the taxes finished. The kids won’t wait.

January 21, 2013 by Head Farm Steward

Anything…not Everything

Oh, I could take this post a lot of directions. A lot of directions. I’ll start with generalizations then make this about farming at the end. I pinkie swear.

We are very fortunate. Very blessed. I have always had at least one job. In college I worked at McDonalds (everybody should work food service!), polished floors overnight at WalMart, mowed grass, worked in the labs and greenhouses on campus, did an independent research project, worked construction and did odd jobs anywhere I could including painting little toy soldiers for some hobby shop in Indiana. Having hit the bottom of our checkbook several times and being too proud to ask our parents for cash, we learned quickly to spend less than we make. We play strong defense with our cash. We are a one-car, no cable or satellite or TV at all family who don’t send their kids to karate, ballet, gymnastics, swim team, baseball or even scouts. We budget carefully making sure we distinguish between wants and needs. It was only recently decided (after lengthy discussion) that a no-contract cell phone was a need.

And now, after years of sacrifice, I am at a place in life now where, thanks to the miracle of credit and a near-perfect credit score, I could buy anything I wanted.

Anything I want. But not everything I want. I can’t afford everything I want. I have to be selective.

Now, I already understood that completely without really giving it any thought. In fact, it wasn’t until I heard my parents discussing a similar topic that I realized what it meant…how simple yet profound it is.

Let’s make a list. First, I need to buy another 40 acres…and soon. I need cattle to help generate revenue and keep the grass mowed and the pasture fertilized. I need a new perimeter fence to keep the cattle contained when a deer runs through the paddock fence. A milking parlor would be nice. OOH! and a bobcat! Heck, an excavator and bulldozer would do wonders for the landscape and future water supply. The barn needs some repair…well, quite a bit actually. The yellow house needs…well, let’s just skip that. My house needs to be skipped too. The machine shed should be replaced. A real garage would be nice. Sure would be convenient to buy a few thousand trees instead of collecting and sprouting the nuts. A walk-in freezer would be a life saver but would probably require a backup generator. And once the farm starts shaping up wouldn’t it be nice to buy that piece of ground just across the fence? Or a place to snow bird in Florida? Or even just a second vehicle?

But we can’t do it all. Even if we could, we shouldn’t do it all. I have a limited amount of money and a very limited amount of time. I have to get the most bang for my buck because I can’t have it all. Each day I make decisions and live with the consequences. There is no time for second guessing. I just have to go. When I make wrong choices I have to work extra hard to make those bad choices work out anyway. There is no looking back. I just have to do it…whatever it is. If I could have everything…if I could do everything then I could do it right. But I can’t. I just do the best I can with what I have.

And that’s enough.

January 18, 2013 by Head Farm Steward

Who does the Heavy Lifting?

Who does the heavy lifting around here in the winter?

Not me I’m afraid.

Right now, a typical day for me is to get up at 5, read my Bible, check email, shower, shave, eat breakfast, get dressed and head off to work at 6:15. I do my job sitting at a desk in a climate-controlled environment. I’ll read the book du jour over my lunch, work a few more hours and arrive home again at around 6:15 PM. Then I spend the evening reading to and playing with the kids and discussing what happened on the farm that day. Once the kids are in bed, I may have to go outside in the dark and cold to get a new toilet bucket, tomorrow’s supply of firewood or some other chore but mostly I just park my tookus on the couch with a book in hand until bedtime. I go days without seeing any animals. Keep in mind, this is the winter routine, not the spring, summer or fall routine. There is no tookus on the couch ten months of the year.

Who does the heavy lifting on the farm in the winter?

Not me.

My wife wakes up with me each day. Today we each dared the other to get out of bed first. She was the first up. She made two attempts to light the fire in the stove before calling me in to try. She walked the dog. Twice. She grabbed two frozen chickens out of the freezer and packed my cooler with the eggs and chickens for today’s orders. Most of the time she cooks breakfast while I’m in the shower though today she didn’t. We pray and kiss then she sends me into the cold, cruel world. Off I go, to be the family breadwinner. Making money in the city, working hard for my family.

Somehow, while I’m gone the cows get milked, the pigs, chickens, ducks, goats and rabbits get fed and watered (not an easy feat when the high temperature is below freezing). The kids are dressed, fed and educated. Phones get answered, letters and packages get sent, dishes get washed, laundry gets folded, blog posts get written, eggs get collected and supper lands on the table just in time.

During growing season I’m normally outside for a couple of hours before work and a couple of hours after the kids go to bed. There is just a lot of work to do. This time of year, on weeknights I try to chill out making the most of my study time.

Who does the heavy lifting on the farm in the winter?

Not me. Summer may be a different story but my wife shoulders the burden all winter. This is no knock against my children who also help make things go around here but if not for my wife there would be no farm…just land and a house.

December 31, 2012 by Head Farm Steward

Plans for 2013

Every year Julie and I write down our plans for the next year. Plans change, priorities change, things come up but it gives us something to shoot for. For example, we may say we want to put $X toward savings every paycheck, buy a milking machine, buy a shotgun and expand into a new market on the farm. Every year the shotgun gets pushed off. Like I’m supposed to be happy with the guns I’ve got or something. We remain open to changes in our plans.

Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.
-Proverbs 19:21

Our 2013 list is not yet final but includes a shotgun (again), exercise our option on the remaining 40, fix the roof on the back addition, seed clover in the pasture, buy as many as 8 beef cows (shorthorns would be awesome!), set up a Facebook page for Chism Heritage Farm and a few other personal and financial goals. I would also like to try raising quail this year, though they are not cheap and require a high-protein feed. During our summer lull I would like to pick up 50-100 of them from our friends at Cackle Hatchery and see what it’s all about. This will also be the year of planting trees. I plan to plant many more trees than I cut down and I have to cut down a lot of thorny things out there. But, though all of these things are good they may not be the best thing for me. All of these are subject to the will of God. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. He does.

In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.
-Proverbs 16:9

Don’t resolve to lose weight this year or give up chocolate or promise yourself to write a post every stinking day to your family farm blog. Avoid guilt-driven goals. Consider things you can measure and actually complete. Things you know you need to do but won’t if it is not written down somewhere staring you in the face every day. Make plans that are their own reward. Don’t congratulate yourself for losing 5 pounds by eating a cupcake. Prevent yourself from mowing the pasture and lower your food bill by getting some cows. Then lose weight by managing the cows. Then eat the cupcake!

‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future’.
-Jeremiah 29:1

We list out our plans. We pray that our plans are inspired by God and not by greed. We work toward our plans. Sometimes God redirects our work. Sometimes things just come up. Even if you don’t believe in God, it’s far better to take a moment to think about where you are trying to go rather than allow yourself to drift aimlessly. So here’s a quote from Alice in Wonderland for those who don’t share my beliefs.

The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good- natured, she thought: still it had VERY long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt that it ought to be treated with respect.

`Cheshire Puss,’ she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. `Come, it’s pleased so far,’ thought Alice, and she went on. `Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’
`That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’ said the Cat.

`I don’t much care where–’ said Alice.

`Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,’ said the Cat.

`–so long as I get SOMEWHERE,’ Alice added as an explanation.

`Oh, you’re sure to do that,’ said the Cat, `if you only walk long enough.’

We maintain our plan. We have direction. We reference, update and maintain our plan. We take steps each day to achieve our goals. Even a little at a time.

What’s on your list for 2013?

December 25, 2012 by Head Farm Steward

Merry Christmas

Thank you for reading our blog. If you’re in the midwest, I hope you are safe and warm someplace cozy during the storm that’s coming through. Maybe a book and a warm cookie in hand…even if Christmas isn’t your bag.

There’s no shortage of work to do here but we’re taking a couple of days to just relax with the kids. Merry Christmas.

December 22, 2012 by Head Farm Steward

Fence v. Winter Storm

What a mess. What a total mess. Cows out of their designated grazing area! Fence isn’t shocking! Nothing works and it’s near absolute zero after factoring the wind chill! Thursday we had a winter storm blow through. It began with a thunderstorm and 30 mph winds and sideways rain. Lots of rain. When I got in my car at 6:30 am to drive to work it was 54 degrees outside. When I got to work at 8 it was 34 degrees outside and the wind had picked up to 50 mph. Then it started snowing. When I drove home in the late afternoon I followed a semi pulling a trailer. The trailer was being blown by the wind and wagged behind the truck like a dog’s tail.

We didn’t bother bringing the cows in. They know where the barn is. They had been in the barn recently but they know better than I do where they are most comfortable during a storm. They found a sheltered place down in a valley and hunkered down for the night. We put a few obstacles out by the layers to give them some relief from the wind and noticed several chicken tractor lids had taken flight and nearly landed in the pond. Goats were warm, pigs got a whole new bale of straw, ducks were just ducky so we told the kids to sleep downstairs by the wood stove, built up a big fire and went to bed early…praying that the power would stay on all night but ready if it did not.

The power stayed on but the cows got out just the same. At milking time we brought the cows up to the barn to milk. They were feeling ornery and walked the long way around. Cows! Once up, it was time to start looking at the fence. The charger was ticking but not lighting up. It was shorting out somewhere. That’s the worst.

The pace to start is to turn off half of the fence. Part of my fence is pretty OK. The other part is…well…servicable. All of it is legacy fence, built by grandpa’s hired men or cousins of mine over the last 40 or 50 years. I trust the newer part…mostly. So I cut the switch.

As expected, this made no difference to the fencer so I knew which way to begin the long march around the combine shed, through the iron pile and back around the house. Then I found it.

The fence was touching an iron corner brace. This is one of the wonders of fences built by hired help. Oh well. New fences are in the works anyway. I separated the wire from the pipe and continued my inspection.

Not too much fence to walk between break points. Then I had to walk the strands of fence we use for the cows current pasture, checking at each rebar post to make sure the wire wasn’t touching a post.

There were a few problems to work out along the fence until the end. At the end, the spools were supported by another rebar post but the wind, rain and gravity had knocked that post over. I cheated by hanging the spools off of the perimeter fence.

Well, that’s what it looked like later. I didn’t realize I created a new short on my own. Nothing worse than fixing one short and creating another. Had to walk back out to fix it. That’s what I get for taking a shortcut early in the morning in the cold wind.

Back up to the fence charger and it was at full charge.

Now, I don’t want to pretend it was all work and I don’t want to say I was all alone out there. I had help. But what is the fun of having your own cemetery hill if you can’t sled on it?

So I made a few trips down myself. The railed sled has carried me downhill for 30 years that I remember. Dad would carry it up the hills because I just wasn’t strong enough when I was little. That sucker gets heavy after a few trips. Now I carry it up the hill for my kids. Good times.

The storm made a lot of work for us today but it also gave us a chance to play before breakfast. Hope the storm gave you something fun too.

Chism Heritage Farm

A Stewardship Chronicle

Category Archives: Family Life