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Catch-Up #1: Manure Spreading

April 20, 2010 / admin

I realize that winter and snow are very ‘yesterday’, but I’m playing blog catch-up. It has been such a crazy winter that I’ve left you out of the loop on farm happenings. In fact, I’ve even left you out of the poop loop.

That’s right. We had a lovely, odoriferous time not so long ago, on a nice, wintry day in March.

The picture above was my view from the driver’s seat of our JD 4020 tractor. I realize that JD 4020 means nothing to most of you, I just added that to prove how farmer-ish I really am.

Marcel was working the blue tractor, loading up the spreader with manure. (That’s a NH TL90A, in case you thought I didn’t know.)

It takes a little more finesse to work the loader bucket. I can do it, but Marcel can do it better. See? I’m farmer-enough to even admit that someone’s better than me.

Oh wait, farmer’s never admit shit like that. Strike it from the record.

Once the spreader is loaded up, off I go. Driving a 4020 with a loaded manure spreader takes finesse, too. Finesse and lots of skill. Ahem.

Anyways, I make my way through the stone-quarry pasture, out onto the road and up to the field south of our house. The field will be put into corn this year, so any extra nitrogen is always helpful.

Here’s the view as I spread the goods onto the field:

You use a hydraulic control to lift the back gate and then start the PTO, which spins some forks at the end of the spreader. The PTO also moves some fins on the floor of the spreader which slowly push the manure from front to back until it’s all out and on the ground. Pretty nifty.

And smelly. “Smells like money”, as the farmers like to say. (God, I’m impressing even myself today.)

In the meantime, the cows are totally put out and complaining, and a few are acting all uppity. I overheard one say, “Humans! Look at ’em. They can’t get enough of our poop. They’re squirreling it away as fast as humanly possible, as if it’s something other than yesterday’s hay bale. God they’re gross.”

Hm. I guess I failed to impress after all.

A New Addition

March 29, 2010 / admin

It wasn’t like we didn’t have anything else to do Saturday. I had 3 coats of primer to apply to my new (!) kitchen walls (a project which of course necessitated two trips to the hardware store for forgotten supplies), the electrician was out to look at some old wires we had unearthed in the process, Marcel and Rob were finishing up a job we had started two weeks ago–cleaning out the barns and spreading manure, my oldest had plans with a friend at 3 PM, and we were keeping my nephew for the night, whom was supposed to arrive at anytime. I had no food and my house was a disaster, but I was going to get to that, too, eventually.

So when Marcel called to say that the young heifer #19 was in labor and not progressing, I had no choice. Everything else had to be put on hold; we switched gears and jumped into ‘birth-assistance’ mode. #19 had never given birth before and is quite small, so we knew she might have problems. Marcel was already up there cleaning up the manure pile, so he kept an eye on her as I quickly excused myself from the electrician’s conversation about his beagle puppy, grabbed the kids and gathered the birthing-assistance tools: 3 straw bales for clean bedding, rubber gloves for Marcel and I, and the birthing chains.

When I arrived, the chute we use to confine the mother had been pushed out of position during the manure operation, so we had to get the tractor and move that first. At this time the mother was prostrate on the ground, pushing with little progress. Her eyes were strained and her neck outstretched–we needed to help her, fast.

Next we had to separate #19 from the rest of the herd. This is the worst part–how horrible to have to chase a laboring mother around the barnyard, knowing what she is going through and worried about the life of her calf. We separated a group of 5 from the rest and corralled them into the barn. Once in, it was pretty simple to get the others out (they know something’s up and want out of there!) while keeping her in. The nice thing about a round barn is that the cows follow the contour of the walls and don’t get hung up in corners where they might decide to turn around and go the other way. So #19 kept walking until she reached our ‘capture area’. We have a gate secured in place that runs from exterior wall to interior wall, blocking her progress, at which point we swing a hinged gate around from behind and capture her in a small triangle-shaped pen.

At the wide side of the pen is a door to the exterior with a cattle chute on the outside. The chute is the only way out of the enclosure, so the cows try to walk through it to the outside. As they progress through the chute, we close the headgate around their neck, shut the reargate and voila–we’ve got ’em! Now we can vaccinate them, castrate calves, pregnancy check, you name it. Here is a picture from last year, showing how it normally goes:

In this case, however, we didn’t catch the mother in the headgate–we shut it before she gets that far so that she has some free movement within the chute. And instead of shutting the reargate, we put a large 2X4 board through the back of the chute about thigh-high, preventing her from backing up but giving us access to her nether-regions.

We immediately gloved up and got to work. Marcel inserted his hand into her vagina to find the calf’s hoove. I passed him the chains and he hooked one end around each foot, just above the second joint so as not to break the calf’s ankle as we pulled. This is harder than it sounds, and took him a good 10 minutes. Once the chains were in position, we hooked handles onto the chain, waited for the mother to push and then pulled with all our might. Literally. It is really hard to pull a calf and it takes awhile to get that babe out of there. We noticed the calf’s tongue hanging out of its mouth–not a good sign. So I told Marcel to keep pulling as I tore away the placenta from the calf’s nose. The nostrils were moving! The calf was trying to breathe, so it was still alive!

If we could just get that head out. I pushed up on the cow’s labia to help widen the pathway as Marcel pulled. All of a sudden the mother gave a good push and the head slipped out. Now we had to quickly change tactics: if the mother sat down onto the 2X4 board, she would kill the calf. We had to let the calf hang there through a contraction to help squeeze the liquid out of its lungs, and then get it down quickly and gently. Here is a photo from last year showing Farmer Scott pulling one of our calves. He is a dairy farmer from down the road and taught us how to assist difficult births.

Isn’t that amazing? He did this by himself with some assistance from my brother-in-law (my sister was taking photos). That’s what I call experience.

Anyways, I stood underneath the calf and wrapped my arms around it (they are super slippery!) as Marcel pulled. The mother pushed, Marcel pulled, and I caught the calf. Well, I helped break its fall to the ground at least. Did I mention how slippery they are? We removed the board and pushed the mother back into the pen where she went to work licking it, cleaning it, and mooing gently at it.

It’s a girl! And she is a strong, spunky little calf. We stood around and watched her try to stand up, which was the entertainment of the day for my kids. They laughed and laughed as she stumbled and toppled over, head over feet, more than a few times. But she did it. Within 2 hours she was walking, nursing, and checking out her new home. Pretty amazing, isn’t it?

Here they are, mother and daughter, immediately after she was born. Welcome to Irish Grove, little lady.

31 Thoughts

February 11, 2010 / admin

Two nights ago, I received a startling phone call at 12:54 a.m., from my dear husband, who had gotten stuck in the middle of a snow drift, about a mile away from home, after working a 12 hour shift, fixing snow plows that keep the roads passable, during a snowstorm that dumped 8 inches on us, with 30 to 40 mph winds.

He said, “Get dressed, don’t wake the kids, grab the tractor, don’t worry about the loader bucket, it has the blade on the back, and come plow me out.”

Here is my progression of thoughts, upon receiving this phone call:

1. I’m warm and sleepy.
2. It’s cold and snowy and windy out there.
3. I don’t want to go.
4. Marcel needs help.
5. He’s stuck in a snow drift.
6. It’s just around the corner on Trask Bridge.
7. It’s really not that far.
8. Maybe he could walk home.
9. We could get the car out in the morning.
10. Anyways, why didn’t he take Brick School Road?
11. Everyone knows you should take Brick School when it’s cold and snowy and windy.
12. Armando was sick yesterday.
13. What if he needs me?
14. I shouldn’t leave him.
15. What kind of mother leaves her sick kid alone at night?
16. What if the girls wake up and don’t find me here?
17. Marcel called and he needs help.
18. I don’t feel so good.
19. Maybe I’ve caught the flu from Armando.
20. It’d be hard to clean up vomit from the cab of the tractor.
21. And then we’d be stuck driving a tractor that smells like puke for the rest of the year.
22. I think I’ve forgotten how to drive the tractor.
23. Anyways, it’s cold and snowy and windy out there.
24. And if the situation was reversed, Marcel would not want to get out of bed and plow me out.
25. But he would.
26. And he’d come as quick as possible.
27. And he wouldn’t make me feel bad about waking him up on a cold and snowy and windy night.
28. Aw, crap.
29. I’m going out into this cold and snowy and windy night.
30. To rescue my husband from a snow drift.
31. I’m a good wife.

Someone Likes Me

January 27, 2010 / admin

Someone named Tim likes this blog. Well, shucks! Thanks, Tim.

He put me in a list of good farm blogs to read. A top 30 list, even. Harvestin’ Blarney made the top 30! Eat that, pop rock stars.

Of course it’s his own personal opinion. It’s not like anyone voted or anything. But hey, I’ll take it. As we say around these parts, “Beggars can’t be choosers.” (Please don’t ask me what that means. It’s just what we say, got it?)

There’s no tellin’ what fame and stardom are gonna do to a smalltown farmer like me. I hope the animals are prepared for the paparazzi. Which reminds me: I’d better go get the cockleburs out of the horses’ manes. And I’d better stop saying cockleburs–someone might get the wrong idea.

Anyways, Paul’s list of most sensational, inspirational, celebrational, muppetational–oops, I got myself confused with the Muppet Show for a second there–farm blogs can be found here:

http://www.bestcollegesonline.net/blog/2010/30-old-macdonald-had-a-farm-blogs/

Over and out, peeps. And I don’t mean the chickens for once.

Morning Admissions

January 22, 2010 / admin

Today’s the day. The day I come clean.

You see, I’ve been hiding something from you. Something that I’ve been too ashamed to admit.

It’s not that I’ve meant to decieve you in any way, it’s just…..well, it’s just that sometimes it’s easier to say nothing than to come clean about things like this.

And anyways, it’s not like any of you have asked. But still. You read this blog to learn about farmlife, to see how things are really done, to get a taste of rural life. You’ve helped me get through the many trials I face here on the farm, the difficult decisions and the many mistakes. But most importantly, you’ve helped me celebrate those rare triumphs, those few things that I’ve done and done well.

So I owe you. I owe you the truth.

OK. Here it is. Here goes nothing. Here’s the deep, dark, shameful secret I’ve been hiding all this time:

I do morning chores in my PJ’s.

I don’t take the time to get dressed before doing chores. I just throw on my coat and boots and go tend the animals. I have been known, even, to duck into barns or the garage if someone is driving by so they don’t see me in my blue-striped pajama pants or my grey sweats that are too short. I know! The shame of it has been killing me.

Think what you must, but that’s the bare truth of it. That’s how things get done here on my farm. Weird but true.

Get Comfortable….

December 26, 2009 / admin

because this Christmas letter is long. (Why aren’t you surprised at that?)

So go grab yourself a cup of tea, sit back and enjoy…and have a happy New Year!!

As I sit down to write this, there’s a sign for our egg customers on the barn door that reads, “Skunk Attack! Eggs are in the House.”

A week ago, I tried to unhook the snow blade from the back of the tractor but had the support stand in the wrong place. The blade fell forward, got stuck on the tractor hitch and Mark Highland had to rescue me.

A few months ago, our grain-fed steers got loose and wandered over to a farm about a mile away. We’d never met these people before, but proceeded to spend 4 long days there trying to get the cows out of their soybean and corn fields.

Farming is an excellent lesson in humility!

We’ve made progress, that’s for sure, but our successes have occurred only after many spectacular failures, embarrassments or desperate pleas for help. If it weren’t for my inborn Irish stubbornness and my superbly capable husband, I would have thrown in the towel long ago. We have learned a lot in the past few years, though, and we’ve come a long way since that fateful spring when we found ourselves with a farm to run and no idea how to run it.

For instance, we have a solid base of egg customers and a long list of people waiting to buy our grass-fed beef. Selling directly to consumers keeps us from feeling too isolated out here in the sticks, gives us better price control for our products, and can also be pretty hilarious. Recently a woman called to say she was coming for 3 dozen eggs the next day. When I told her I didn’t have any saved and that the hens are only laying a dozen and a half per day, she replied, “Well, I’d like 3 dozen. I’ll be there in the morning.” I wondered if she thought I had a hotline to the barn, “Ladies, ramp it up in there. We’ve got a big order to fill!”

People’s desire to be more closely connected to their food source is real, though. We try to honor that desire by answering questions, welcoming people to the farm, and doing our best to ensure a high quality product. There is no doubt that we’ve benefited immensely from the renewed interest in local foods and we feel very fortunate that these people have decided to support us.
2009 was a good grazing year. The cattle herd was finally big enough to utilize our pasture and moving temporary fences every few days presented a good occasion to walk amongst the cows, check on pasture conditions, and test the strength of the electric charge (ouch!). Calving was challenging, to say the least. Of 17 pregnant cows, we had 10 first-time mothers, 4 of whom ended up needing birthing assistance. Scott Swanson was gracious enough to be “on call” for us, and Laura and Rob even got the opportunity to pull one (with Scott’s help) while we were in Eagle River for our annual Peace Corps reunion. By the 4th calf, though, Marcel and I felt confident enough to try it on our own. We were thrilled when we successfully pulled the calf and he survived.

Like most farms, we had a tough year for crops. High input costs, a cool, wet summer, and a very wet fall made for the perfect storm: lower yields, lower test weights, high moisture counts and a difficult harvest. I think the wet harvest hit the guys the hardest, though–Marcel, Rob and Matt were all disappointed that they didn’t get to load the grain bin this year. The harvest wasn’t the same without the hustle and bustle of moving wagons.

Finally, 2009 brought one more addition to the farm–Mom’s new husband Gordy. We understand why Gordy fell in love with Mom (she is wonderful after all), but we do wonder if he had his head on straight when he agreed to move out to the farm. In the past year he has been roped into more cattle round-ups, fence moves, childcare ventures and boring farm discussions than he probably ever thought possible. And being the Flynn’s that we are, we aren’t prone to pass up the opportunity to put an able-bodied individual to work! So we welcome him to the fold and apologize in advance.

We know there will be more farm adventures in the New Year, surely more mistakes and hopefully more successes as well. We thank you for your love, support, and especially if you’re a local farmer, patience over the past year.

All of us at Irish Grove Farms wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Jackie & Marcel, Laura & Rob, Matt, Marcia & Gordy,
the kids, dogs, cats, horses, goats, chickens, and cows. (Phew!)

Moving

November 21, 2009 / admin

We decided we couldn’t take it anymore.

The hassles…..

the trials, the tribulations of maintaining two homes.

I was tired of cleaning two places,

Marcel was tired of supporting both households……

it was just too much.

So we did it.

We moved.

We actually moved.

The chickens.

Tremors

November 18, 2009 / admin

We are all colored by our personal experiences. So when your house starts to tremor, what immediately comes to mind?

If you’re a Californian, you may think: earthquake!!

If you live near a highway, you may think: semi-truck!!

If you’re from an oil-rich nation, you may think: gas explosion!!

If you’re from New York, you may think: another terrorist attack!! (God forbid.)

If you live next to a gravel pit, you may think: ho hum.

But if you live on a farm, you think: animal escape!!

‘Cause we didn’t miss a beat last night, at 9:30 PM, as we were watching a heart-wrenching story on Frontline (PBS) about the Iranian elections, when our house started to shake and tremble.

Instead of grabbing the kids and getting into the doorway, or running to the basement, or grabbing the gas masks, or saying “ho hum”, we ran to our windows to witness:

Two horses and two goats running circles around the house, kicking up their heels and having a fine old time.

Once in awhile, I’d just like a dull moment. Is that so wrong?

A Teacher For Once

October 31, 2009 / admin

It’s not often that I get to write a post about teaching a farmer skill to someone else. Most of the time I’m learning. And screwing up. And learning from my screw-ups.

But looky here. I’m teaching my friend Andy how to kill, pluck (or skin, as in this photo–she wanted to keep the feathers) and gut a chicken.

Processing chickens is a skill that is being lost as we slowly lose our grandparents. It’s also a skill that in suprising-high demand. Who knew?

I like passing on a bit of knowledge once in awhile. It makes me feel like a real farmer for once.

Finally! A Small Farm Advantage

October 27, 2009 / admin

“Rain, rain go away. Come again another day.”

It’s been THE rainiest growing season I can ever recall. A wet spring made it difficult to plant the crops. A wet summer meant it was difficult to make hay. And a wet fall has the harvest at a complete standstill.

If you recall, I was a fall-weather-whiner last year as well, with rain delaying harvest, corn moisture levels extremely high, etc. etc. I should have saved my breath, because last year was a walk in the park compared to this year. With the weather forecasted to continue in this wet and cold pattern, I don’t foresee getting the corn out of the field until December. Which means we might be fighting snowy field conditions.

I have to admit that being a farmer has made me a little cranky. (My family may argue I’ve always been cranky–don’t listen to them.) But my crankiness really comes out when in company with a person that starts to wax rhapsodic about “farmers (said with a negative tone) who are making money! hand over fist! as they farm fencerow to fencerow! with no consideration of the environment! in pursuit of the almighty dollar!” People eat this line up, man. They are all over it. If you want your own popularity to soar sky-high, try that line out. I guarantee you’ll have people murmuring in agreement, possibly a small applause, and definitely an increase in groupies. (Hey, everyone needs a few groupies.)

What these people don’t realize is that our livelihoods are mostly out of our control. Grain prices soared last year to record levels. So did trucking fees, basis levels (what elevators charge for handling our grain), fertilizer and input costs, diesel prices, drying charges, etc. Don’t blame a farmer for trying to squeeze a few hundred extra bushels out of his or her land, is what I’m trying to say here. The survival of their farm depends upon it.

This year is even tougher. Grain prices have come down a bit, but we were forced to pay for much of the aforementioned input fees during last year’s highs. Add to that our wet year, and we’re talking near disaster.

Wet grain means thousands, yes thousands, of dollars in drying charges. Wet grain also means that even if you’re able to harvest your crops, the grain elevators won’t take them because the moisture counts are too high. What does one do with thousands of bushels of grain and nowhere to go? Wet fields increase the likelihood of soil compaction at harvest, which causes a myriad of problems in future years. And wet weather means low quality hay and fewer cuttings (read lost income).

While we’re on the subject of hay, I have to point out one distinct advantage Irish Grove has over other farms: we have livestock. Most people, including us, have given up on their 4th cutting of hay. The alfalfa and grass hay fields sit there, unharvested, taunting us with the lost opportunity and lost income. Except, wait! We have cows. And hay fields with fences.

Cattle prices are too low to make sense for most smaller farms, so cows are usually relegated to large feedlots that can take advantage of bulk pricing discounts, etc. etc. Ignoring the drawbacks that come with large feedlots, the results are that farm fences have been torn down. I don’t blame anyone for this: fencing is extremely expensive to maintain, not to mention a royal pain in the arse–they easily become overgrown with weeds and brush. (Anyways, one may be able to fit a few more corn rows where that fence used to sit. Don’t hate.)

But we graze our cows and fences have gone back up. So while we may not be able to take that 4th cutting of hay, we can run the cattle through the field and they will eat it green instead! After some heavy frosts, the plants don’t have the same nutrient availability as they did during the summer months, but it’s nutritionally equivalent to dry hay.

So, the cows harvest the hay on their own and save us time and money spent on harvesting a hay crop. They keep greenhouse gases out of the atmosphere (no tractor driving), fertilize the land by pooping and peeing, which in turns keeps greenhouse gases out of the atmosphere (no need to mine for and truck fertilizer in). Oh, and we won’t have to feed them as much dry hay this winter, leaving more to sell to our neighbors. Brilliant!

Small farms like ours have few advantages over large farms, so it’s nice to finally find one. Maybe it’ll help a bit with my crankiness! If so, my family will be thanking the cows on a daily basis.

Irish Grove Farms