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Hi Everyone,
Lately if Papa can postpone his evening chores until after the heat index has dropped below 100, then he does. Tonight was no exception—but it had some adverse side effects. He will not be hot one bit, but he will be a drowned rat for sure. An hour ago it was over 100 degrees, but about 10 minutes ago the clouds let loose and we have gotten about half an inch of rain and the temperature is now 77. Yes, this is how we stay cool in Florida in the summer—those lovely afternoon rains. The garden will be most happy to be watered with the best water there is—good ole rain water. Last weekend we got close to 4 inches of rain, but it hasn’t dropped a drop since Monday. Thankfully Mom got the bottle calf fed and I got Yasha walked and fed before the rains came down—and as long as no floods come up in the cellar we shall be fine.
Rain or Shine
Come Monday morning we all had a good dose of cabin fever. We had spent two days processing chickens, and then it rained all day Saturday, and we were at church all day Sunday. We had a list and a half of things to do Monday morning—but it was raining. By the time we were done milking and doing the morning chores though, the rain had let up. So we made a beeline for the garden. It sprinkled on us off and on, but the temperature was perfect weeding weather. I promise that if the sun had been out blazing hot we would have gotten wetter from sweat than we did from the sprinkles. Around 2:00 we stopped for lunch—it is so hard to stop when you are having fun. After lunch we headed back to the garden until shortly after 4:00. We were working hard to remove the wild morning glories, the dog fennel, and the Spanish Needle flowers that were taking over the Wildflower section of the raised bed garden. Summer weeds have a way of taking over by leaps and bounds. One Spanish needle plant can be four feet tall and just as wide. The nice thing about big weeds is that after you pull just one it looks like you have done a lot of work. We got a lot cleared out, but the clock was ticking way to fast and it became time for Mom and me to leave to pay the taxes and go to the bank before they closed at 5:00. Since we had stayed longer in the garden than we had planned, we had to rush to get out on time—which meant wash your hands, grab some water and hop in the van. Twenty years ago I would have told Mom that she would have had to go to town by herself—because I would not have gone to town in my gardening clothes covered in dirt! I guess as you get older, it doesn’t matter as much. Actually, a lot of the way you look at life changes as you get older.
Busy as a Bee
Wednesday morning was very busy—but we had lots of help, for the Crane boys were here. It was time to move the three week old chicks out to pasture, and the turkeys to a pen in our front yard. They are not big enough to roam free in the pastures, but they are big enough to be out searching for bugs in the grass. Once the birds were moved out to pasture then it was time to bottle the milk and pack for the Jacksonville delivery. Once the orders were all done, and Papa was on his way, then we headed out to the garden to relocate another type of flying object. For the last three weeks a swarm of bees has been “hanging out” on one of the branches of our apple tree. Mom would have loved to have our own beehive to pollinate the garden, but Papa was not ready to take on bees. We knew that the Cranes had bees, and so Wednesday morning Mom called them to see if they were interested in a new colony of bees. They were thrilled with the prospect and brought all their gear to gather the bees and take them home. They suited up, and then with some tree trimmers they carefully cut the branch off of the apple tree with the bees still on it. Then they ever so cautiously and carefully carried it over to the beehive. After laying the “bee” section of the branch over the beehive, they then began to cut off the excess of the branch so that it would fit into the box. When the branch was all trimmed up they carefully lowered the bees into the box and put the lid on it. With the bees all safe and secure a bottle of honey was attached to the roof of the hive so that the bees could be nourished. Once they got them home, the beehive was set out with the other beehives and the little front entrance was opened to give the bees’ access to all the yummy pollen that they can find in order for them to get busy making food for their Queen. I was told that the bees wasted no time in setting up housekeeping and building out the comb so that the Queen can start laying eggs to make more bees.
A New Calf on the Block
Wednesday morning when Papa brought the cows up for milking he found a new born calf—on the wrong side of the fence. He went and got “her”, and put her where she belonged. Later he found her off on the wrong side again, so he rescued her again. Gail’s new calf likes to hide, and little Windy is pretty stubborn about it. In some of our fields that grass is a good two to three feet tall. Around 1:00 little Windy was missing again. It took Mom and Steve quite some time to find her, and thankfully she was standing up—or we would have needed a drone for search and rescue. Later that night, when I was out doing chores, I couldn’t find Windy again. Gail was lying down near the lane, so I looked in the lane but I didn’t see her calf anywhere. So I headed out to walk through the two acres that the cows were busy grazing—no calf there either. When I came back I decided to check the lane again, and to my feet’s delight, there she was in a pile of tall grass. Windy is now four days old—and hiding is still one her favorite pastimes.
Farming when the Going Gets Tough
Farming isn’t always easy, but when it gets difficult—it just makes for good stories. Thursday morning we headed out to milk—which has had its trials of late. A few cows have struggled with mastitis (one because of last weekend’s rains). This results in less milk for sale. That alone is a big burden—when you do not know why, and the cures are not working. Hoping to boost everyone’s immune systems and provide them with the proper nutrition we have started a new mineral program—some is free choice and some is mixed into their alfalfa when we milk them. One of the ingredients is apple cider vinegar and the quality of the brand we got is so good, that for the first time in my life I actually like the smell of it—and the cows are enjoying eating it. We are working with a well-known grass-farmer vet, Will Winters, and when we were talking to him the other day I told Mom to ask him if the apple cider vinegar was clean enough for human consumption. Mr. Winters said that it was—so I know where I shall be getting my apple cider vinegar from for now on. Mixing minerals and vitamins into feed makes milking take a little longer—but it does make for healthier cows. We have learned over the years that all illnesses are nothing more than a mineral deficiency—whether it is plants, humans, or animals. So not only is milking taking a little longer, the grass is tall and lush which makes for very splattery cow manure. Thursday afternoon Mom had a doctor’s appointment at 2:00, and when I got dressed for the day—I got dressed for the whole day. All was going well in the milking parlor—until my last two cows. I was milking Ana on one side of me and Bella on the other. As I was nearing the end of Bella, with no warning at all her tail lifted up, pudding pie came down—and I was covered! Before I could get myself cleaned up, she repeated the episode. After much delay, I finally got myself and my surroundings cleaned up and proceeded to finish milking Bella—and she did it again. I soaked my dress with the water hose—managing to fill my shoe with water too. Then I washed the bottom of it in my bucket of soapy water. I thought that I would have to change after all—but clothes dry fast on hot sunny days! By this time though, I had experienced all the poo for one day that I could emotionally handle. I was thankful that Mom was there to help me finish up Bella and Ana. With the cows all milked, we took a little break before we headed to bottle the milk. It was noon by the time we were done, and Papa needed help separating the Murray Grey beef cows. The Jerseys are genteel ladies, but the beef cows are wild hooligans. Papa had noticed that many of the older steers were nursing on the mama cows, which causes the newborn cows to either die or be stunted in growth. Therefore, he wanted to separate the cows into two herds. The goal was to put all the steers and young bulls in one field, and all the mama cows, babies and the daddy bull (Billy Bull) in another field. Beef cows do not do things calmly—they do not always cooperate. They are moved from field to field almost daily, but still they are apt to “rebel”. Let me describe the setting—Florida, in the middle of August, the sun was shining brightly, the temperature was around 98, the heat index was over 110, and it was lunch time. We had 90 minutes to separate cows, eat lunch and leave in order to be on time for Mom’s doctor’s appointment. Papa had already tried this a few times by himself, but some of the steers kept escaping and jumping over the hot wires until they got back with the herd. We all drove down to the pond area where the cows were, and once we had a plan, I walked back up the lane to the other side of the property to open the hotwire to let the steers in with the other steers, and let the cows head on up the lane to another pasture. Mom held open the wires to the field where the cows were, and Papa walked through the field sorting out the cows—well, he tried too. It was like trying to separate strong magnets—they kept coming back. Around 1:00 he had managed to get most of the mama cows and the bull out of the field and up the lane. All the calves and the steers, plus two or three females were still in the field. Once we got the herd moved up the lane to their new pasture, we headed back for the others. Papa stayed to open the wires, and Mom and I went to bring down the rest of the herd. At first all was going well, Papa was letting the females go by, and the steers into the field—then one steer slipped by, and then the other female went in the field with the steers. The calves split with three going through a set of hotwires and into a totally wrong field, and the other four or so joining the steers. Chaos reigned! Papa went after the three, while Mom and I went after the ones that were in with the steers. We would get them going in the right direction, and then one would bolt and start running in the opposite direction. We would run and try to block them off and turn them around—but one went sailing through the air right into the wire fence. I was shocked to see that it actually caught him—I thought for sure that he was going to go through it. Once he was out of the fence though, he took off like lightning. Papa had better success, and we walked his three down to the other cows. It was then 1:30—time to leave and Mom was hot and sweaty. She grabbed a quick shower, but there was no time for a quick lunch. I grabbed a banana and we were off. We got out of the doctors around 3:00 and then we ran errands. At 5:00 Mom asked me what I had out for dinner, and I told her a whole chicken. I might have had it out—but I was not going to have time to cook it. So, we stopped at Panera Bread and picked up some dinner. When we got home we ate dinner, and then we headed back out to finish separating the cows. This time we decided to take the whole herd to the panel pens and sort them out one by one. Poor Papa had to push and shove each one of those big mama cows out of the panels. The calves were a different story—most went pretty easy, but one kept jumping the fence and going in with the Jersey cows. Papa had to go in there twice and catch that calf with a crook, and then he had to man handle it out of the field. I think that he had to man handle that calf at least three times in order to get it to the field where his mama was—and he was no little pip-squeak either, but a robust older calf. It was now 8:00 at night, and I had to walk and feed Yasha, Mom had to bottle feed a calf and Papa had to gather the eggs, take Penelope to her calves, and feed the dogs—then lock up all the birds for the night. Bed felt real good that night.
Sharing Knowledge
When we first began farming—we didn’t know anything. Somethings might have been common sense, but most was not. We were grateful for every farmer who took the time to teach us, to take us under their wings and guide us in the way that we should go. We still have much to learn, but Friday we were given the chance to pass on some of the knowledge that others have taught us over the years. A family from Miami came across Joel Salatin’s books while they were living in the big city. You cannot read Joel’s books and not get the desire to farm. Joel is the owner of Polyface Farms in Virginia, and he is the mastermind behind a lot of how grass farmers raise their animals. Having been bit by the farming bug, this family set out to find property so that they could live their dream—and they ended up not too far from us. Trying to get water on their land for their animals they ran into a road block, and someone told them to come and see how we are set up. They want to rotate their cows on pasture, but needed some encouragement on how to set up the water system. We had a wonderful time getting to know them and sharing with them our failures and successes. Community is a great thing, when you are farming against the grain. The conventional farmers cannot understand why we grass farmers do things the way we do them. Our neighbor can tell a difference in our grass and his grass though, and he knows that it is because we rotate the cows and the chickens all over the property.
A To Do List that Seems Impossible!
Tomorrow starts a new week, and if we had 100 volunteers just for tomorrow we could keep everyone of them busy. Last night as I was trying to fall asleep, I remembered that we are supposed to plant the multiplying onions tomorrow. The place that I need to plant them is three feet high in weeds. On Saturday the hay man called and said that he is ready to start bringing us our winter supply of hay—and so we need to clean out the barn tomorrow. The grass has not been cut for two weeks—and it desperately needs mowed, raked and placed in the poultry compost yard. Then there are eggs to package. We shall see what, when and how this all gets done.
Serving you with Gladness,
Tiare