Last night we moved the chickens into their winter hoophouse, just as the snow started falling. We seem to have a knack for squeaking by when we have deadlines to face. Each year the autumn weather patterns are a bit different, so we don’t have hard calendar deadlines. Rather there is a complex coefficient of management hassle that tells us when to bring the chickens in. This is hard science folks:
coefhassle = rain + 2(snow + mud) + cold
Chickens don’t need protection from a little bit of snow, but with the nights in the teens and twenties and the days above freezing, the soil becomes gooey and the chickens turn the area around their pasture coop into a muddy slurry. Added to that is is the problem of moving their coop. We move their coop periodically to keep them on fresh grass, but in this weather the coop begins to sink into the mud. Last night I was barely able to get the coop towed out of the pasture, leaving big ruts as the tractor clawed its way along in four wheel drive. So we knew the time was right to move them to their winter home.
The chickens have a fenced yard out behind the hoophouse, but for the first two days we’ll keep them enclosed to latch their brains onto the idea that this is their home. After their homing instinct connects with this shelter, we’ll be able to let them out during the day without having to herd them back at night.
Last December our big boar died and I buried him in a pile of hay bales to compost. Over the summer the pile broke down, so with a little sifting I was able to unearth the cleaned skeleton. I removed the tusks since they are so anatomically interesting.
Tusks (or tushes in some parts of the country) are the canine teeth of pigs. They are found on both the upper and lower jaw, with lower set tending to be larger and sharper along the outside edges. The upper tusks angle against the lower set to continuously sharpen them. All pigs have them, but males exhibit faster growth. The tusks of sows stop growing after a few years, but boars’ tusks continue to lengthen throughout their lives. The tooth on the right was broken off, probably 6-12 months before the boar died. In the wild, pigs periodically break off their teeth fighting with competitors and upstarts, so the ability to regrow tusks is important. This boar didn’t get into any fights (to my knowledge), but he could have broken the end off while digging up rocks and stumps.
I’m curious to see if I can cross-cut these tusks on my dad’s bandsaw or better yet on the tabletop scrollsaw for a fine kerf cut. With a little cleaning and polishing, these could make nice ivory disks for jewelry. Think of the marketing slogan “Boartooth ivory, the sustainable choice”. OK, so this is probably not ready for mass markets yet, but I’ve got to try it and see what happens. I am always drawn to objects crafted from materials native to a place and time. Stay tuned.
I’ve been a member of a pastured poultry association for a few years. It is a small group comprised of farmers like us who are committed to raising birds on pasture. It mostly exists as a forum for farmers to discuss techniques and practices among ourselves via an online discussion group and a bimonthly newsletter.
They just put together a video showing what pastured poultry looks like. Honestly, the video isn’t quite as great as it could be, probably too discursive for most YouTube viewers. But it does provide good examples of honest pastured poultry (as opposed to the disingenuous marketing claims so common on egg cartons and chicken labels today: free range, cage free, or even some of the pasture-raised claims on grocery store eggs). I’ve never been able to shoot good videos of our chickens, but this video captures in many details a system similar to ours. The farmer in the blue shirt has pasture coops quite close to ours. These setups give the chickens plenty of room to roam, allow them to be in the sun or shade depending on their preference, ensure that they are on fresh grass each day, and provide protection from aerial and ground predators. They work well for us, and the chickens thrive in this environment.
Let me know what you think of the video.
Yesterday I decried the persistently crazy public perceptions about lean pork. Today I want to share a video that does a good job showing just when American eating and farming both started going off the rails. I’ve gone back to this video many times over the years since I first watched it because it touches on each aspect that contributed to today’s woes.
It was produced in 1956, so it has everything you’d expect: stuffy narration and scratchy footage, but the present day viewer will especially notice the unselfconsciously patronizing remarks about the American housewife. Yes, everything that is wrong with pork and the pig farming industry today is the fault of Eisenhower-era housewives.
The full video is linked below. Here are highlights that catch my attention:
0:50 Look at the the trucks the farmers are driving. Everyone is using 12-16 foot stake bed trucks with dumps. These are good all purpose trucks, not specialized livestock haulers. Since these farmers run diversified operations, the flatbed would be used for hauling every conceivable thing on the farm. Based on the size of the truck bed, they are only bringing 10-20 pigs at a time. Contrast that with today when the average 53 foot double decker trailer hauls 180+ pigs, and hog farms are too specialized to do their own trucking.
2:21 The American housewife. “She’s the person everyone in the meat industry, the producer, packer, retailer, is trying to please.” But of course this was never about pleasing the ladies. It was all about creating a demand in the American market for leaner pork because animal fats no longer were as valuable to the meat packing industry with the rise of abundant, cheap petrochemicals. Consumer demand is manufactured. Let’s not kid ourselves otherwise.
3:28, 9:49, and 10:29 Notice how farmers are still feeding pigs on pasture, mainly on alfalfa and what looks like young oats in the last clip. Within the next two decades none of these small time farmers will be delivering pigs to that stockyard; they either got big or got out. Pasture feeding doesn’t scale up well compared to building huge livestock barns, so pastures became necessary only as convenient dumping grounds for the increasing amounts of concentrated manure.
3:38 Lard is replaced with vegetable shortening, soap is replaced with detergent. At the time nobody knew the health problems that would come from eating all those vegetable oils. And nobody knew (or at least nobody talked about) the environmental damages that would result from abundant detergents being flushed from homes and industries into the waterways. Of course the concurrent destruction of pasture and hayfields to make way for the corn/soy boom (to support the concentrated hog feeding operations and the new vegetable oil markets) further added to waterway pollution. And then the high density hog feeding operations created their own problems by leaching manure into the water. This new system compounded damages upon damages, but gee whiz it sure pleased the American housewife…
3:57 The comparison of the meat type hog versus the lard type hog is nicely done. I don’t see the meat type hogs they are promoting as particularly egregious. I’d be happy with pigs of that conformation. By 1956 they hadn’t bred all the fat out of pigs yet, so they hadn’t reached their present nadir of leanness. But the trend was starting, and just like in the horror movies where you mutter to the screen to stop the protagonist from opening the closet, watching this video makes you want to shout, “Stop right where you are, if you keep going you’ll ruin food for generations!”
7:49 and 10:58 Marbled meat gets dismissed. The examples they show compare a poorly formed pork loin with a nicely formed one. So of course the bigger eye muscle is more appealing on the leaner pig. If they had done a better trimming job they wouldn’t have as much to criticize. But then the narrator complains about marbling, as the “internal fat, extra fat” is “carrying too much fat to be suitable to the American housewife”. Once again, it is those housewives who are to blame…
Sorry to have to call out you housewives. But it is all your fault, apparently.
Today I heard a story making its round on the news and it made me wonder: does anyone in the newsroom know anything about pigs? About pork? About flavor?
The story goes that pigs lack thermoregulation genes that most other mammals have, so somebody used CRISPR to stick mouse DNA into pigs and gave them that gene. Now they can thermoregulate better, and as a consequence, they burn more fat and run about 25% leaner than normal pigs.
Along with all the usual dumb puns and blathering about genetic modification, the story is underpinned by three big ideas that happen to be all wrong:
- “Fat is bad. Low fat pork is healthier.” Come on, we know better than that… Do we have to keep on tangling with this misinformation? Sugar is wrecking our health, not animal fats. We never had an obesity epidemic when sugar was scarce and the average pigs were much fatter than they are today.
- “Lean pork is tastier.” No, no, no. For some meals you may want a leaner cut than others, but on balance if you want a tasty piece of meat, choose something with fat in it. Animals eating a variety of plants have a variety of flavor compounds deposited in their fat. If the pork fat you are eating doesn’t taste good, it is because the pigs aren’t being fed well.
- “This improves pig welfare.” Just because pigs lack a gene for thermoregulation doesn’t mean that they are suffering in the cold. They have a perfectly functioning adaptation that has been serving them for a long time in some very cold climates, much colder than ours. We have pigs that grow vigorously in open air shelters all winter long. The older pigs often choose to sleep out of doors in the winter; sometimes I find them covered in snow in the morning, even though they have dry bedding and a snug shelter available a short distance away. We may be able to measure differences in heat loss for genetically modified pigs, but that doesn’t tell us anything about whether the pigs mind the cold or not.
I suspect that what really happened is that the researchers were just messing around with a list of genes lacking in pigs and chose this one because it was a simple one to transfer with CRISPR and it would be easy to measure the results. Once they completed their study, they looked at the results and tried to shoehorn things into ideas that might result in future funding. “Look, this is great for animal welfare!” “Look, this does great things for meat!”
Who knows, maybe at some point we’ll find a genetic modification that is an excellent idea. But this fat burner gene isn’t one of those excellent ideas. Don’t accept boring, dry pork. Eat tasty pork with tasty fat. I lived through the terrible years of “Pork: The Other White Meat”. I don’t want to go back to those leather chops.
I’ve given up on another ideal lately and bought myself a used wood splitter. I’ve split wood by hand since high school and felt some measure of pride at being pretty good at it. And felt a measure of disdain for all those wimps using wood splitters if truth be told. Not only do I enjoy the rhythm and physical challenge, but I also value anything that is hand-crafted rather than machine-made. But as with so many things, ideals and reals aren’t lining up. Between time demands, rotator cuff injuries, and some really stringy elms and hickories, I wasn’t keeping up with wood splitting. Every year I end up buying a few cords to make up the difference. I decided to swallow my virtue and purchased a machine.
I bought a twenty ton splitter on Craigslist a few weeks ago. It runs off the tractor’s hydraulics. This was an important consideration because I didn’t want the bother of maintaining another engine. The tractor can power it at a slow idle, so it runs for four hours using less than a gallon of diesel. I’ve used it on the three point, but I think I’d prefer to mount it on a light axle to make hitching and unhitching easier.
Here Harry is running the controls, helping my dad some break up rounds from a hickory that tree that rotted at its base.
Overall I’m pleased with the machine. I can’t feel special or superior anymore, but maybe I can feel warm during the winter. Is that a fair tradeoff?
I made chicken feet for supper yesterday. This is one of those meals that require far too much prep work to be a regular feature on the menu, but the results justify the effort.
Twenty years ago a coworker from Hong Kong introduced me to Dim Sum Phoenix Claws. We don’t live near any place that serves them, and we never eat out anyway, so it has been a long, long time since I’ve last had braised chicken feet. If I wanted chicken feet, it would be up to me to make them.
Chicken feet are a lot of work because chickens, especially pasture raised chickens, really work their feet. They use their feet to scrape dirt and rocks out of the way to search for bugs and seeds. All this scraping and shuffling takes its toll and their feet get get callouses. These need to be carefully trimmed. The yellow outer skin needs to be peeled off. Most of the yellow foot skin usually comes off during the scalding and plucking, but there are always a few stubborn bits that need to be removed. I sort through our chicken feet, setting aside the blemish-free ones for our customers. The ones that require trimming usually end up in our homemade broth, but this time I wanted to do something different with our share of the feet.
I used the SeriousEats recipe as a framework for the process but changed almost all the ingredients. I decided to make the meal more Southwestern (but not purist Southwestern either) since we had those ingredients at hand and in the garden. Instead of anise, ginger, and cinnamon, I used coriander, cumin, parsley, and garlic. Instead of fermented bean paste and long peppers, I used chipotles in adobo and dried ancho chilies. Instead of Shaoxing wine I used our homemade tomato wine. Et cetera. The most important departure from the recipe was deep frying the feet in a 50/50 mix of bacon drippings and lard instead of vegetable oil. I don’t use vegetable oil for deep frying. Never ever.
The third stage (for which there are no pictures) is to braise the feet in a broth for about two hours. I used a blend of chicken and pork stock, with more hot peppers, garlic, onions, and parsley. After braising I reduced the stock to a thick sauce and poured it back over the feet.
After that, all that was left was the eating. This is one of those meals that are perfectly enjoyable to me, perhaps only matched by sitting down to a cauldron of crabs or crawfish. In common with the other two, the meal is all about disassembling little parts, sucking at this little joint or nibbling that bit of meat. This isn’t a meal that can be rushed at the table, so it would be a great one to enjoy with friends, spending a couple hours nibbling around the pot, letting conversations unwind at their own pace.
Saturday evening I was bringing the tractor in from the woods with a load of firewood when I saw this rodeo in progress.
The electric fence had shorted out and the pigs escaped into the adjacent pasture with the cattle. Pigs are cool with cattle; cattle are not cool with pigs. (Actually, cattle can become acclimated to pigs, but they are suspicious by nature.) You’d think that it would be the cows that would want to protect their calves from pigs, but I’ve always seen the steers show the most defensiveness. I’m not sure why they display such strong choirophobia, since they aren’t scared of grazing nose-to-nose across the fenceline from each other.
This black steer had those pigs running laps. I tried herding the pigs back into their pasture, but this steer kept shadowing me and spooking the pigs. So I had to change my objectives. The first task was to move the cattle to a new pasture. Apparently the promise of fresh grass is more pleasing to a bovine than the thrill of chasing pigs. Once the cattle were distracted with new food, the pigs walked back to their pasture as docily as I’ve ever seen them. Maybe they had had enough adventures for the day and were ready to go home.
We’ve had some patient and dedicated customers driving all the way from Brooklyn and Queens to pick up meat and eggs in New Jersey and Staten Island, but we’re glad to announce that we are starting four new neighborhood delivery points near our existing B-Q customers.
Unlike our suburban deliveries where we can count on big driveways with lots of access, our Brooklyn drops are “floating” delivery points. We’ll park as close to our listed address as possible, but we may end up a couple hundred feet up or down the street depending on parking (we’ll be taking advantage of the law in NYC that allows commercial delivery vehicles to double park in certain locations during deliveries). We may need to refine these delivery points as time goes by. Consider the Brooklyn locations as beta tests. The Queens location is a little more of a sure thing.
Once each month we’ll be delivering preordered items to the following NYC locations:
- Southern Staten Island (parked in private driveway at 4945 Amboy Rd) 9:30 AM – 10:15 AM
- Park Slope Brooklyn (parked alongside the Park Slope Armory YMCA at 361 15th St) 11:30 AM – 12:00 noon
- Prospect Lefferts Gardens Brooklyn (parked near 232 Sterling St between Rogers Av and Nostrand Av) 12:30PM – 1:00PM
- Crown Heights Brooklyn (parked by the Brooklyn Brower Hill Library at 725 St Marks Ave) 1:30PM – 2:00PM
- Flushing Meadows Queens (parked in the Meadow Lake Boat Rental Parking Lot in Flushing Meadows Corona Park) 3:15PM – 4:00PM
Again, consider the Brooklyn locations as beta tests while we work out the logistics and gauge interest. If you know a better spot or if you are connected to a network of people with a common interest in grassfed, organics, and environmentally sound food production, let us know and we might be able to adjust the delivery run.
Our next delivery will be on Saturday the 30th of September. All orders for the next delivery need to be placed by the end of the day on Tuesday the 26th.
Have a friend in the area who wants to eat well while supporting a farmer? Please pass the word along. We appreciate it!
‘Tis the season to clean out the deep bedding packs from the hoophouses where the chickens and pigs spent the winter. I’ve never been able to find time in the schedule to do this earlier in the summer, so most years it is a September or October task.
I built some extensions on the flatbed’s stake sides. This increased my dump capacity, saving trips trucking loads of material out back to the composting spot. This year I’m trying to get smarter with material placement, so my compost heap is right next to the field where I want to spread it. I should have thought of this years ago. Baby steps…
Our composting system works in two stages. During the winter, the bedding packs are quite thick so they begin spontaneously composting. Because we also have populations of red worms in our hoophouses, we have active vermicomposting throughout the winter. In the spring when we turn the animals out to pasture, the bedding packs dry out and composting activity slows. When I place it in windrows in the fall, the aeration of digging and dumping help restart activity. The piles continue to compost until they freeze in the winter (the cores of the piles usually remain frost-free, but there isn’t enough heat or aeration to sustain much activity).
I’ve placed two windrows side by side. In a few weeks, there will be a noticeable diminishment in the pile sizes, so I’ll combine the two into a single long windrow using the loader bucket. There are expensive compost turning implements available to make spectacular compost in a period of weeks, but the tractor bucket does pretty well and it fits into our preference to avoid purchasing specialized machines. The compost won’t be finished and ready for spreading until next year, but it will be an excellent soil amendment nevertheless.
I haven’t figured out the perfect time of year for spreading compost, but I think fall probably works best in our situation. Early spring is almost always too wet for driving across the pastures. During the summer it could work by immediately following the grazing with a spreading, but the timing is challenging, especially when trying to schedule to use someone else’s spreader. Winter spreading is possible when the ground is frozen and when the snow pack isn’t too deep, but that creates a lot of runoff risk. Fall spreading seems to be the best option for us. We can spread compost on a field after its final grazing for the season. As long as we don’t allow the cattle to graze down to the nubs, there will be plenty of plant matter to hold and stabilize the compost. With our fall weather we can count on freeze-thaw cycles at least until mid-December, so there is plenty of opportunity for incorporation before the soil becomes ice-bound.
For as much as I truly value well-made compost, I’m glad when this job is finished. So does the rest of the family. By the time I come in for lunch after a few hours of scooping and dumping the smell has permeated my clothes and hair, so everyone shifts their chairs to the far end of the table, giving me as wide a berth as possible. Of course, I exacerbate the situation by making sure to give bear hugs so everyone can share the love. Next, aromatherapy for farmers, bottled parfum de merde.