Adventures of a New Pioneer

Saturday, February 26, 2011

First Signs of Spring

Every year it is the same. I am completely astounded by the coming of spring. I recognize and expect the changing of the seasons from spring to summer, summer to fall and fall to winter, but by far the most resplendent of the changes is from winter to spring. It doesn't take much to amaze me at this time of the year. Having just spent the last four months cooped up in a house with five children is enough to send anyone screaming for the door at the first sign of nicer weather, and for me, 20 degrees can sometimes be considered nicer weather. So, perhaps it is the deprivation of winter that makes spring so magical, or maybe it is just that, as I get older, my memory is getting worse and I can never remember from year to year just how things are supposed to happen.

It is still cold out. Cold enough that a quick walk around my gardens is really all I feel like doing yet, but even during that brief walk I notice subtle changes that herald the start of spring. Last week as I was peering out my window with a cup of coffee in hand, I suddenly realized that there were buds on the trees despite the general gloominess of the last week's weather.

"What! Really, they are budding out already? Did this happen last year this early? The trees are crazy!" Picturing them like a mentally unstable relative that has declared that they will no longer wear a coat and thereby bring on nicer weather, I went out to inspect them and make sure they weren't really freezing.....not that I could do much for them if they were, but I thought I had at least have a walk among them to be sure that they were all truly budding and that it wasn't just a deranged few. Sure enough, buds all around. "Well, okay....if you guys say it is coming...."

So, then I start looking elsewhere for spring. The birds are usually the next clue and clearly it is time to start spreading my lint piles and wool leftovers for nests. April chicks are usually the result of mating and nest building that starts approximately now. The first Robin is no doubt around here somewhere, but I haven't heard them start to call in the mornings quite yet, but the Cardinals are getting into it - my son noted that the other day, that the birds are back. Not so much back really, as just vocal and trying to let the girls know.

The snow continues to fall, but there isn't a lot of confidence in it anymore. The flakes know they will be short lived and the daffodil bulbs and irises will soon be pushing up through last year's leaves. How they know it is time to poke their tender heads out is c

ompletely beyond me, but I find myself crouching over their area in the garden with baited breath waiting for their emergence and knowing that when they do show up, winter's back will be broken at last.

Spring is always a lesson in faith. The trees bud out, the daffodils sprout up, the animals start to shed their fur - all on faith alone that the earth will continue its incessant march around the sun and the days will slowly but progressively get longer and warmer whether we realize it or not, even though the thermometer still dips into the teens and twenties during the day. Faith in the future- nature has more of it than I do myself, I am afraid to say. I am, however, happy to feel its optimistic effect and let it soak into my pessimistic soul like the sun slowly soaks into the soil and turns the frozen ground into fertile loam.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Our Chickens Have Only One Bad Day

There comes a time in every chicken's life.....today was such a day for four of the young males on our farm. We have known and loved these chickens since the very day they emerged from their shells. They have lived a life of chicken luxury with organic food to eat, a large fenced in yard in which to roam, other chicken friends to communicate with, but on our farm one rooster is, at times, more than enough. Our day of reckoning varies depending upon exactly when chicks hatch out, so we sometimes find ourselves having to deal with chickens in less than ideal weather, but we have developed enough of a system that regardless of whether it is July or the middle of December, we can make it happen. We usually know that it is time to organize the chicken posse when the hens start looking a little harried. Too many roosters to deal with can lead to some fairly stressed hens. This usually coincides with the roosters just starting to learn to crow, so as the adolescent vocal cords are just warming up and gaining some volume our knives are quietly being sharpened. This is one of our least favorite tasks that has to be done on this little farm, but it comes with the territory of raising our own food, and we view it as a responsibility that we have to these birds to see that they are handled well and don't suffer any longer than absolutely necessary. I have explained it to my kids like this......we eat chicken - we can get it from the store, or we can raise it ourselves. A chicken from the store lived out its entire life in a small cage, never saw the sun, never chased a beetle through the grass, never crowed out its defiance and domination of the hens, never scratched away merrily at the earth worms in the dirt. Our chickens do all those things and more. If we believe in eating happy, healthy animals that we raise ourselves, then we should be able to butcher said animal. The chickens that we get from a store are scooped up, plopped in cages and driven for many miles to a processing plant with much terror and stress in the process.....our chickens get picked up and within 3 minutes it is all over. Our chickens only have one really bad day, and actually more like only 3 really bad minutes. Now, if you have a squeamish stomach, don't continue on with this post because what follows is a graphic depiction of butchering a chicken. Why? Because when we first purchased chickens and hatched out this crazy scheme to raise and butcher our own chickens, there wasn't a good source of common sense description of what was to be done. Thankfully, I invested 7 years of my life becoming a veterinarian.....glad that my education can pay off somehow....and in those 7 years I became well versed with anatomy and the best way to separate a body from its internal parts, and butchering is really just one step below surgery. *********** Stop.....seriously! If you don't want to think about butchering chickens.....stop! If you are interested, however, in how a chicken gets processed (and even the ones in the store have to go through this ) then carry on. But don't say I didn't warn you. I apologize in advance for the poor picture quality....I was inside with one incandescent bulb and chicken liver covered hands The Day Before Reckoning Day

Before a chicken meets the butchering knife it is best if they are kept off food for 24 hours to help empty out the digestive tract. We separate ours by putting them in a smaller "hut" with water and their other doomed friends. Reckoning Day A few key items to have on hand:

Sharp knives....and by sharp I mean as sharp as you can get them because they will dull quickly.
A cone-shaped holder. Sometimes called a "killing cone" for reasons that will be explained later.
A large pot to boil water in that will also hold a chicken
A bucket of dilute bleach water and a few rags for any clean ups that may have to take place
A place to hang the chickens to bleed out
A place to hang the chickens for plucking off feathers
A blow torch or other mean of controllable flame
A clean table upon which to dress out the chicken
Rubber bands - one for each chicken
2 gallon freezer bags
Sharpie marker
Latex gloves
A bucket or other garbage storing device that you can throw the entrails, feet and heads in

You're still reading.....I can only assume that your curiosity has gotten the better of you. The first time that you behead a chicken, it can be a little unnerving. They really do flop around a lot so the saying "running around like a chicken with its head cut off" has some basis in reality. We catch our bird and hold him upside down. When held like this they tend to relax and become sedate. We then insert them head first into a cone that Keith made using some somewhat rigid plastic material. These can be commercially bought and are sometimes known as "killing cones". The head protrudes from the end thus allowing either slicing the jugular vein or decapitation. We do the decapitation procedure. I prefer not to have my hands anywhere near a flying axe so we put a twine noose around the chicken's head and that is connected to the fence with the chopping block at the correct point to allow for contact with the chicken's neck. I hold the chicken and control the feet. One quick drop of the axe and they are no longer aware of anything that happens. A quick end to a lovely chicken life. I would have a picture at this point, but it takes both of my hands to hold a crazy headless chicken and there is no way that I would delay this event in the life of a chicken to take time for a picture. The cone is a useful device. It controls the wild antics of a chicken not in possession of its head. Without a cone the wings flap wildly and it creates quite a mess of blood everywhere. With the cone, the wings are contained and the chicken can be held above a bucket and most of the blood can be caught. I usually start walking with the chicken to where it will be hung up since I live in the country and a little blood here and there is quickly washed away with the next rain. The "crazy flapping" is usually over within about 30 seconds as the muscles of the body run out of oxygen and the nerves stop reflex firing. Our chicken butchering is set up into four areas/events

Decapitation
Draining
Plucking
Eviscerating

Both Keith and I tackle the first part, the second event happens of its own accord as they hang upside down. Plucking tends to be Keith's job and I (being the small handed vet person) get the task of evisceration.

After the chickens have hung upside down for a few minutes, they are ready to drop into scalding water. We tend to hang the first chicken up and by the time we have killed the remaining chickens the first one is ready for the hot water. Our large enamel canning pot works well for our chickens as they are smaller than typical broilers. They get dunked completely about 8 -12 times in the near boiling water. This helps to loosen the feathers and makes them easier to pluck. The smell of hot, wet feathers, however, is not one that you will quickly be able to forget. Plucking takes patience. I usually start with plucking but quickly run out of said patience and am happy to give it up after the first chicken is done to start the eviscerating. When the chicken is first out of the water it is possible to pull handfuls of feathers rather quickly, but soon your hands are completely covered with wet, sticky feathers. I now understand how awful being "tarred and feathered" really would be. The hard part is getting every single feather... it doesn't usually work, but you can always pull an errant feather out later. When the bird is 99% plucked and looks like a proverbial "rubber chicken" and you just can't stand to pull another feather, then it is time to pull out the blow torch. We scorch off some of the odd "hair" that some chickens have by lightly brushing the torch over their skin. Then they come to me for evisceration.

First thing is first. The feet must be removed at the level of the hock. This is fairly easily accomplished with a sharp knife and a little hyper extension of the joint. Then, the neck is removed. It is somewhat hard to cut through the neck with a knife due to the cervical vertebrae of the chicken being very small and tight, but I have found that if you can wiggle a knife through the space between the vertebrae, you can eventually tease them apart. Avoid trying to "cut" the bone as this will definitely dull the knife very quickly.

At this point, what was once a chicken in my yard looks a lot more like a chicken that I could potentially buy at a store and my stress level starts to go down a bit, but all the insides still need to come out and I am sure that for many people, this is the stressful part.

I start by putting the chicken on his chest with his butt end pointed at me. I cut a circle around the tail (including the scent gland - the prominent little point just in front of the tail) and the cloacal opening. I extend the cut a little deeper through the superficial muscle layers until I start to see the gleam of the intestine. Then, a finger is all that is typically needed to break down the thin connective tissue that holds the cloacal opening and attached intestine in place. This is where the rubber band comes in handy. I place a rubber band around the cloacal opening to prevent any "spillage" of the intestinal contents. It works rather well and keeps the process a lot cleaner.

Then, I flip the rooster over on his back and extend the incision that was made around the cloaca opening toward the head along the midline of the abdomen. You run into the end of the breast bone at some point, but usually the size of the opening can be manipulated enough to allow for the admittance of a few fingers (or a hand). You have to understand that at some point in this process you will be wearing a chicken on your hand. I, being right handed, typically use my right hand for this part. I slide it into the body cavity along the right hand side. There are quite a few thin connective tissue bands that hold body parts in place, these can be broken down with some manipulation. I usually break these down and work from right side, down onto the spine and then to the left side until I feel like the mass of entrails are generally loose. Then, reaching as far forward as I can, I grab hold of the mass (typically the heart is the most prominent organ in the front) and gently and steadily pull back toward me. You don't want to jerk because that may cause something to rip and ooze all over.....not a pretty sight! Eventually, and usually with a horrid "sucking" sound the mass will come out.

There are a few organs that undoubtedly get left behind, namely the lungs and the kidneys. The lungs reside toward the head of the chicken and on either side of the back. See the picture at left....the knife points to wear the lungs usually reside. They are typically tight to the ribs and need to be gently freed from the body wall. I usually do this by scraping a finger in between the ribs - when you feel something soft and spongy....that will be the lung. They usually peel out easily and are a wonderful pink color that my friend and I have since used to describe the color of many things....."oh, that is the perfect color of chicken lung!" .....I know, I know....sick, but true.

The kidneys are a bit more difficult. These reside in the bones of the pelvis and behind many nerves and tendinous attachments. The best way I have found to get rid of the kidneys is simply to "dig" them out. The picture at right show some of the nerves, tendons, etc that are over the top of the kidneys at the end of the knife. I reach into the cavity where I can get to them and break some of the attachments over the top. They usually come out in many pieces and are the area that I focus on when rinsing the chicken out, as this is the time to make sure that any kidney pieces get washed out.

At this point I usually do a visual inspection just to be sure that I have all the stringy things out and anything that looks like it may be part of an organ. Sometimes the top part of the trachea is still in the chest area and that can be a bit of a challenge to get out because it is so slippery. Periodically, you will feel something very tough and sharp at the end of the trachea - this is the carina or the spot where the trachea branches off into left and right lungs- grasping this can sometime make removing the trachea a little easier. All that remains now is the washing, bagging and freezing.

Usually we scrub them out well in cold water from the hydrant. This makes sure that there are no little pieces of anything left in the chicken. We also scrub off the outside as well. Then they are placed in a labeled 2 gallon bag and put immediately in the freezer. As a frame of reference, today (moving somewhat slowly due to the chilly whether) we, my husband and I, processed four chickens in approximately 1.5 hours - start to finish including clean up. We have been known to do as many as 10 in two hours when we get going. I know that it is a much slower process than it would be at a processing plant, but then again we handle the entire process ourselves and monitor to be sure that they are clean and properly handled. When you know you will be the one eating it, you take better care.

In between chickens I usually wipe down the table with dilute bleach and let it dry. I love it when it is sunny out as the sunshine provides a good dose of antimicrobial ultraviolet light as well, not to mention a nicer working environment. I usually change gloves or at least rinse off the ones that I am using in bleach water and I clean the knife.

Now I can just imagine that there are some people that have read this and are completely grossed out, for which I am sorry, (I did warn you at the start).... but the truth of the matter is, if you eat meat, this is how it is produced. Just because it is under plastic wrap on a nice Styrofoam plate doesn't mean that it started out that way. It started out on a farm and the quality of the farm can definitely affect the quality of the meat.

We know and can account for every aspect of the chicken that we eat. We use almost every part of the bird that we can. When we cook with these chickens they are stripped of every edible piece of meat and then the bones, skin and remaining "tufts" of meat are further cooked down in a crock pot to produce some of the best chicken broth know to man. I wish I could fully explain the quality of this food and the incredible taste. All I can do is to encourage you to find a local farmer and talk with them about the food that they produce and then be willing to pay them what they actually deserve for taking the time and care in producing a good quality product.

Friday, February 4, 2011

When it Snows and Blows

Every once in a while Mother Nature likes to remind us that she really does have the upper hand. A drought here, a flood there, the occasional mud slide or earth quake. Sometimes she gets really serious and throws together a hurricane or two, or sends a tsunami on shore to keep us on our toes. I just heard the other day that all of Yellowstone park is sitting on top of a "super volcano" that is due to erupt anytime between this second and about 100 years from now, but they really have no way to know Mother Nature's schedule for sure.

We humans are starting to get slightly better are forecasting weather - at least that weather that will effect us in the next 24 hours or so, but we remain woefully ignorant and argumentative about what effect we may be playing on the weather. Are we getting warmer as a planet or is it just a cycle of sun spots? Are the polar ice caps just undergoing a natural ebb and tide, or are the Polar Bears just going to have to develop flippers due to all the pollution that we have thrown into our environment.

I do know one thing however, Mother Nature dealt us a wonderful blow this last week. There have been very few true blizzards in the last several years, but the one that roared through on Tuesday was impressive - ten to twenty four inches of snow and winds of up to 45 miles per hour. Listening to the roar outside my windows that night was enough to make me want to hide underground like so many other hibernating animals this time of year. Keeping warm in a 100 year old farm house when the wind blows hard can be a bit of a challenge but with enough wood for t

he wood burning furnace, we were all fairly snug. Unfortunately, it was all over too quickly. Personally, I could have had it go on for a while longer. I love the feeling of being snow bound (as long as I am snow bound at home, anyway).

Food typically isn't an issue because there are always meat and eggs to be had around here, and electricity may come and go, but as long as we have books to read and a supply of candles to light, we are good to go. We spent a rather nice three days without electricity a few years ago following an ice storm and I was almost sad to see the lights come back on. That ice storm, however, prompted the purchase of a generator for future emergencies such as the blizzard that ripped through here this week. Ironically, the very purchase of a generator has been good insurance against ever needing one again.

The weather has started to take some interesting turns in the last few years. It doesn't take a lot of expertise to look at weather trends and rainfall averages to notice that there are changes afoot. They may be nothing more than the natural cycle of things, but they are changes none the less. Here is the part that gets me though....we will spend any amount of money on research and argue tooth and nail to prove our hypothesis on the issue of global warming, but all of that, in my mind, is a moot point. We are essentially arguing about whether or not it is okay to pollute the environment. The answer to that question is simple, and should be simple to everyone without all the arguing.

Let's simplify this a little, bring it down to an understandable scale. Picture your house as the entire world, your kids are inhabitants of other countries unlike your own. Now answer me this....is it okay to continuously dump your garbage (no matter how "clean" it is) in their rooms and they dump theirs in yours? Personally living in a relatively small house with 6 other people ,this very idea sounds all too familiar and I assure you, it isn't pleasant.

This is what we do to the earth, our one and only home, but we pass it off as "not our problem" because the world is so big and beautiful and seemingly endless. As we pass 7 billion people living in this house of earth, we are only starting to realize how finite it really is. So, regardless of whether or not we are causing the temperature of the earth to change because of our pollution is irrelevant. Stop the pollution problem and we automatically resolve others as well. It just makes sense to reduce the amount that we pollute whether or not is does anything to the environment.

It seems to me to make good sense to find other ways to produce en

ergy - ways that don't involve drilling deep under water for oil or fracturing the ground for natural gas, both of which lead to some serious pollution as we have already seen. Reading articles and listening to leaders of the country talk about different incentives and acts that may be put into place if only they can flog through the fog of partisan politics makes me completely crazy. There are times that I wish we could simply declare war on energy and pollution - we seem to be able to declare war on everything else without due cause. The President can declare war without Congresses approval (at least for a time)......what's he waiting for? This is one war that would actually benefit everyone.

As a nation of war we have been know to mobilize all units to produce tanks and bullets, planes and guns at a moment's notice. It only took a few months to fully mobilize at the out break of WWII - car factories changed production almost overnight and the entire populace was fully on board to do what needed to be done. What happened to that spirit? Where is "Rosie the Recycler?" Now we are much more inclined to let the ridiculous politicians feebly attempt to pass some legislation that may or may not ever make it out of committee. I have complete confidence that if an actual "call to arms" were made to the American people to find a way to only use renewable resources for our energy within the next 5 years, we could do it. We simply choose not to. It is very depressing. Gas is still too cheap and easy to come by and the large fossil fuel companies still control too much of the government.

So what to do while the Leviathan still lives and breathes its toxic smoke into our atmosphere?

Good question. We have implemented a lot of small steps as I am sure most people have. Cloth grocery bags, recycling anything and everything that can be recycled, smaller car to increase fuel efficiency. At some point you think, "Am I really making any kind of difference, " but I have to believe that even if we don't have a zero carbon footprint, at least we are doing what we can to minimize it. I plant the seeds in my kids' heads of a day when all the energy may come from wind, solar and geothermal energy sources and their cars will run on electricity produced from these sources. I encourage them to think about the future that they would like to see even as I apologize that my own generation has been so terribly apathetic about making it a reality. Sometimes, you have to imagine something to be possible in order for it to happen.

We woke up on Wednesday morning after the wind had finally died

down, to a world that had been completely transformed. Snow drifts 6 feet high, snow sculpted into unusual shapes and folds, hills transformed into flat lands and flat lands transformed into hills of snow. It is amazing to me the changes that can be wrought with a little wind and I find myself perpetually on the side of Mother Nature. I know that no matter how much we humans screw up this world, one way or another she will be there to remind us that she, after all, is still in control. Blow on Mother Nature, blow.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Anywhere But Here And Back Again

Sometimes it is entirely necessary to disappear. The middle of winter is a good time for that. When the weather is dark and grey and all that is visible outside is brown foliage covered with ice and snow, it is time to flee for a while and gain some perspective. We opted for Disney World.

This planned escape started almost two years ago when we told the kids, "when Meg is old enough to remember the trip" we would go. They held us to that promise. And so, we procured airline tickets and with the help of relatives and friends were able to find a place to house the seven of us and getting us into the parks without completely breaking the bank. We left exactly one week ago on an airplane bound for Orlando and it was perfect!

Disney World is truly an amazing place if you ask me. Yeah, there is a lot of merchandising and food is too expensive,

but they are one of the single largest employers in the country and most of their employees seem to be fairly happy with their jobs. I like Disney's optimism, tenacity and vision. Each of the theme parks that we visited had a fairly good message. For the Magic Kingdom it was believe in your wishes and dreams really can come true. Epcot was all about the earth and the people on it - we are many people of many cultures but we all share the same home - it felt a little like taking part in the Olympics. The Animal Kingdom was my family's favorite and expressed the importance of taking care of the other species on the planet - the animals, the plants and the insects. Oh, and it also had the greatest roller coaster ride as well.

I do realize that most of those messages were probably lost on my soon-to-be 5 year old who was completely enamored with the Princesses that she was able to meet, but I think that some of it did sink in for the teen and pre-teen in the crowd.

The other thing about Disney is how memorable it is. I have been to other theme parks and amusement parks, but I don't remember much from them. I think that Disney is so much more memorable because most of the rides have a slightly scary aspect to them - a story line that you get to be a part of and then some aspect of it becomes frightening, but with a good resolution. When you are scared or stressed, you remember things more clearly. I have very clear memories of the first time that I went to Disney when I was 8

due mainly to the fact that I was freaked out by some of the rides. I don't remember being scared, but I definitely remember them.

So, we had a memory making week and now it is back to the same old grind for another few months of winter. But spring is coming, followed in short order by summer and as we remember and process all of the memories from this week, we can start planning for the next fun adventure. To use one of Disney's own phrases, "there is a great big beautiful tomorrow..."

Sunday, January 16, 2011

The Darkness Before Dawn

I get up at 5:25 am on Sundays so I can sleep in. I know that doesn't make any sense, but bear with me a minute, there is a method to this madness. We have a very large, very fluffy dog named Gina that lives outside to keep the riffraff away from the farm. She is a wonderful dog and very good at her job, but we also live across the road from a large dog boarding facility and it takes a strong dog indeed that doesn't want to run across the road and see her other friends playing and barking.....Gina is not quite such a strong dog sometimes. So, to avoid the inevitable phone call that will come at 7 am, telling me that there is a large fluffy dog of mine across the road, I get up at 5:25 to put her in her kennel. I do it so early because if I wait until 6:30 am then I stand a chance of inadvertently waking a kid up in the house and, when one is awake it doesn't take long before five are awake. There is no sleeping in when there are five kids running around. But if I can sneak out of the house and back in again really early I have an outside chance of not waking anyone up and actually getting back to sleep myself. I know....how very devious of me. The biggest problem with getting up at 5:25 am and going outside on a January day is that the cold does an extremely good job of thoroughly waking you up. But, if I am fast enough and don't have to track my fluffy dog down, I can get back inside a warm house and curl up next to a warm husband and drift luxuriously back into sleep. There are some mornings, however, when I don't want to. Not sure how many of you have been outside a few hours before dawn in the middle of winter but there is something amazing to see.....the stars! I used to think that "starlight" was really just a figure of speech and that there really wasn't any way that those

tiny pinpoints of light could actually illuminate anything, but I was mistaken. On a field of snow in the darkness before dawn, the stars make it bright enough to see the entire world around you. I find myself drifting along behind my dog on the way out to the barn where her kennel is, eyes to the heavens over head and completely enthralled with the constellations. There are always constellations to be found, but most of the clearly recognizable ones are in the winter - Orion, Taurus, Pleiades, Canis Major and Minor hunting with Orion, Perseus. The winter skies are so crisp and clear that there are times it feels as though the stars are within reach instead of millions of miles away. When I was a kid, I used to wait until it was pitch dark outside to go out and do chores and then, while the horses where busy munching hay, I would flop down in a snow bank and simply stare upwards at the expanse of the universe above. This would always come to an abrupt halt however when my mom would flick on the yard light and yell out into the yard, "Jen! Are you alright out there!" She was forever convinced that I was nightly trampled by the horses, so I would answer her that I was fine, (other than being totally blinded by the yard light suddenly coming on and shocking my dark adapted eyes) and stumble my way back into the house. I, at one time, thought that I would like to do astronomy, but then realized that the mystery and magic of the skies was more to my liking and I preferred to look at it always with a sense of wonder rather than know too much about the whys and wherefores of their movements. I enjoy knowing the constellations and the stories behind them - Orion, the hunter sits on the opposite side of the universe from Scorpio (my zodiac sign) because Scorpio bit him. Cassiopeia sits upside down for half of the year due to her vanity. Watching the zodiac constellations march across the heavens during the course of the year also gives me a feeling of connection to people from the past that used only the skies to maintain a sense of time and direction. This morning as I stood peering up into the skies I noted Venus which appears as the morning star at this time. Right nowaccording to the almanac, it is at its brightest that it has been for a while with a magnitude of -4.7. Not that this means too much to me. For me it is so bright that it almost looks like an incoming plane until you realize that it isn't blinking nor is it moving. Suspended in the sky, a planet not unlike the one that I stand on, yet so far away as to only appear as a brightly lit dot in the sky. Thoughts of the magnitude of space make me feel like a mere dust mote in the sunbeam of the universe. How small, how inconsequential am I in this time and space that I occupy. The thought is both alarming and soothing all at the same time. It helps to put into perspective the problems of the week, the animals that I haven't been able to cure, the people that I know that are in a state of distress, the seemingly endless number of questions with no answers. I look to the dark, star filled sky and it simply swallows all those concerns and more. I am not a very religious person. This is perhaps an understatement, but I do believe that there is something that binds us all together - each atom, each grain of sand, each leaf on every tree, each person, each planet and star. I stare up at the starry sky and feel connected in some small way to that infinity above me. I have never felt quite the same sense of profound awe in any cathedral, no matter how magnificent the masterpieces painted on the ceiling, and no wording in any religious text has been able to give me as much peace as the message of the quiet, constant light of a midwinter sky. So, this morning, as I walked back toward the dark, warm confines of the house, I paused and breathed in the crisp, star-filled air and let the peace and quiet fill my soul and felt the gentle roll of the earth through infinite space as measured by the stars.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

The 4 - H Conundrum

Had an interesting discussion with my daughter the other day. She is very much into doing things that other people are doing (or have done) lately. I think she is trying to find her niche in the world.

The discussion of interest, however, happened while deciding which 4-H projects to tackle this year. They were due to turn in their enrolment forms and had to have their projects figured out. Food and Nutrition - check, Aerospace - check, Wood Working - check, Horticulture - check, Poultry - ......."what? you don't want to take the chickens again?"

No, .....she wants to take something bigger!

Bigger, as in something that she can "show" around a ring. Not just a simple chicken that you take in and out of its cage while talking to the judge.

She wanted to take a pig because that is what I had done in 4-H. Well, we will have pigs, so I could totally see how the idea crossed her mind, and they say that imitation is the best flattery, but I felt conflicted suddenly. Here is where we come to the conundrum.

4-H is a group that built out of the farmers of the community and as the farming practices started to change back in the 40s, 50s and 60s, so did 4-H. It is now very production oriented - the most animal units in the smallest space for the least amount of money. 4-H does focus on taking good care of these animals and some of the science behind the production is sound, but the bulk of the animals that go to the show are, sadly, raised in confinement type production systems.

We like to imagine that the problem isn't around here. It isn't our neighbors that do this horrible thing to animals, but when you peel off the denial....yeah it is. I drive by several confinement units on my way to work and there is one particular horrid cattle feedlot on the way to my parents with beef cattle piled nose to tail in muck up to their elbows and 6 foot fences all around their tiny enclosure while nice green fields stretch out in every direction for miles around them.

We grow pigs on this farm, but only two or three at a time and very slowly. We feed only organically grown feed and produce scraps from our garden.....well,.... and the occasional chicken that they corner and help themselves to. There is no possible way that a pig, grown in the way that we like to grow them, will gain enough, quickly enough to be shown at the fair. They would be close, but not quite.

Sometimes I wish 4-H went a little farther. Take those pigs on the hoof newly judged and then take them to the butcher and re-judge them based on meat quality and taste after they are butchered. Take it even further and judge them based on nutritional differences found in the meat. I would happily have Faye take a pig to the fair then.

So, how to change the system? This is what I contemplate as I drive by confinement units, hear the latest news on the farm bill, receive letters from my Alma mater vet school and cringe.

Speaking of Vet school....there, too, lies a problem. I cut my teeth in the production animal world in the very bosom of all farm animal knowledge....Iowa State. Did three years of an Animal Science degree and then launched into Vet school with the plan to become a mixed animal practitioner. I learned all the ins and outs of production animal medicine and surgery only to give it all up after I graduated. I started out at a mixed animal practice, but since I was 4 months pregnant with the daughter that now stood in the kitchen staring me down for a bigger animal to show at the fair, I had done only small animal work. Time, distance, and a lot of kids later I find myself where I am now - firmly entrenched in disliking my own industry for their narrow minded views on producing animals.

The AVMA (American Veterinary Medical Association) themselves are pro-confinement operations, pro-antibiotic use in the feed, pro-large scale production. I try to unravel the "why" behind their political stance on all of these issues and I honestly can't see it. Are they (and by they I mean the production animal vets that make up the AVMA) afraid of what might happen to their multi-million dollar money makers - essentially IBP and Tyson foods? Are they afraid of what those huge corporations might do to them? Personally, I say "who cares!" I am a scientist and I have to look at all the ways and means of raising an animal - which is best? Best for the animal and best for the people eating the animal? Becoming a scientist teaches you how to think critically and then becoming a veterinarian promptly brainwashes you into thinking that the large scale production method is the way to go. It would seem to me to be in the best interest of the veterinarians of the country to be the leaders in raising animals - dictating what truly is the best method of raising an animal. We are supposed to be the animal advocates.....or is it that we are supposed to be the large scale production owner's advocate.....I forget....the brainwashing makes my head hurt.

I distinctly remember one production class. The professor was talking about beef production - raising cattle to put on the most meat as fast as possible and what they need to be fed to do that. Silly me, I always thought that cows were supposed to eat grass - they are ruminants after all, designed by thousands of years of genetics to be able to eat the stuff that omnivores and carnivores can't eat and digest. But here was a professor giving us a recipe for what to feed to beef cattle to make them grow really fast....and it wasn't grass. Not only that, but he said....and I remember this almost word for word because it struck me as somehow very wrong, "their feces should be so "hot" they almost bubble" What this actually translates to in non-vet lingo is that they have very loose stools and you will sometimes see a little 'froth' or 'bubble' on the top of the cow pie that they leave. Apparently, that is a sign that they are getting a really high protein feed and laying down a lot of muscle. But then he went on to talk about the liver abscesses that this can lead to because when we feed cattle this unnatural "hot" feed it screws with the bacterial flora of their rumen and then essentially end up with what amount to ulcers in the gut. The bacteria cross from the intestines into the liver and set up shop. These cattle may be putting on a lot of weight, but they are miserable doing it. Imagine someone cramming those "high performance energy bars" down your throat when you have a constant case of severe heart burn and gastritis. What is the production professor's answer to this? Antibiotics in the feed to help keep those bacteria in check.

Wrong, this seems so wrong.

And how did this start? I have no flipping clue. Somewhere along the line the big became bigger and they started thinking of ways that they could produce more faster and make more money. And, as so often happens, overproduction happened and then you have to make a market and a reason - we have to "feed the masses" , have a marketing campaign - "Beef! It's what's for dinner!"....remember that one? The prices eventually fall and the little guys go bankrupt and the big just keep getting bigger and start having a lot more political clout because they have the money to control the legislation. This is all a very sick and twisted system that we live in. What is done to mass produce slowly becomes the norm to the point that veterinarians start learning how to deal with the mess that is the confinement raised beef cow, hog or poultry and accepting it as norm. The norm becomes what is pandered to and taught to the next crowd of young aspiring vets and what is sent down to the extension services in each county as "good production practices" and further taught to young 4-H members contemplating what to take for fair that year.

So, we have come full circle - from me, growing up taking pigs to fair, thinking that this is the best way to do things, to a full veterinary degree later realizing that maybe we should be raising our animals differently and trying to find a way to help my children realize that as well, while fighting a system that tries to teach them the exact opposite.

"Can't do pigs, Honey."

"But why not?"

To which I attempted to explain the above at an 11 year old level.

"Well, how about a cow? Can I take a cow?"

"Beef steer or dairy cow? Because you know that the beef steers don't come home, they eventually go to market and we are back to the production conundrum again."

"A dairy cow. They come home right? And we can raise them like we want to and still take them to show right?"

By God, I think she might just understand and have it figured out. And, she may have just put me over a barrel. Yes, we have talked about getting a cow at some point. Why not now? Why not for a 4-H project? That would give us two years to watch it grow, build what will, no doubt, need to be built to have a milk cow in residence and re-learn my dairy cow medicine that I might need to know.

Therefore, I am now in the market for one newly born Brown Swiss heifer calf. If anyone should know a local dairy that would be willing to sell me one, let me know.

Photo credit: Farmer's Daughter.....clearly another person after my own heart.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

A Year Without Grocery Stores.....

I like this woman's idea! A Year Without Grocery Stores and what is even better is the fact that she doesn't even consider going back. Less waste. Deeper connections with people. Healthy food. The complete opposite of what the entire country has been doing for a decade now. Brilliant!

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Spinning A Yarn

In an attempt to justify the existence of our one and only sheep, I am finally getting around to using the wool that we worked so hard to sheer off of her last spring. The wool had been washed twice and allowed to dry on a sunny porch, but after that it sat in a clean pig feed bag all fall. I had been talking with my parents during the course of the summer and fall about borrowing the spinning wheel that they have had (and never used) to attempt to spin yarn from wool. My husband had been adding his healthy dose of skeptism to the idea, but finally I prevailed when this last week my parents brought down my great grandmother's spinning wheel.

It is my dad's one and only heirloom piece of furniture from his grandmother, so he made it very clear that this thing is only on loan for a while. This is probably a good thing because I am already very nervous having a 110 year old piece of furniture in a house with five kids running laps through the kitchen. Last know wool spun on this wheel was somewhere around 1900.

I have seen this spinning wheel many times before, but I have not actually seen one work since I was in second grade when there were some women that came to the school and demonstrated how things were done in the "olden days". They showed us spinning wool and making candles, and one other thing that escapes my somewhat porous memory. Needless to say, despite remembering the demonstration of spinning, I don't remember doing it. Thankfully, somewhere in the piles of books that I have inherited from my grandmother, there was a spinning and dyeing book.

I tend to be very much a "learn by doing" kind of a person. It takes a lot of patience to actually stop and read an instruction manual. I flipped open the book and glanced at the pictures and read a few captions. Good enough....now let's do it!

But here is the thing about spinning wheels.....they are not intuitive. They are simple in design and the concept is fairly straight forward - I pull and the spinning wheel spins the fibers thus making yarn. This is much easier said than done.

This particular spinning wheel is a Saxony wheel which is one that you treadle the foot pedal to keep the bobbin and the fly wheel spinning while simultaneously using both your hands to stretch and feed in the fibers that are being spun. There are a few too many sides of the brain required to accomplish all those above listed tasks - seriously, this made rubbing my tummy and patting my head very simple.

The first night I carded some of the wool which, as it turns out, also takes some getting used to. I have a lovely set of scratches on my arm from one of the carding combs to prove this point. I then sat down at approximately 9 pm to start figuring out how the spinning wheel really works.

This particular spinning wheel felt like and old friend. When I was a kid I used to play with it up in my parent's bedroom where they kept it. I would sit and marvel at it as I worked the foot pedal and made the wheel go around and around as fast as I could. I never could quite figure out how it actually spun anything. So, starting late in the evening with a cup of coffee at my side, I sat and fiddled with it, looked at the book and then fiddled some more.

I started with only one string on the wheel and

couldn't figure out how the bobbin and the fly wheel were supposed to go different speeds until it dawned on me that maybe there needs to be two strings on the wheel. Looked at the book.....yep, they all have two strings....okay, time to find and tie another string onto the pulley that runs the fly wheel. Voila! By this point it was 11:30 pm.

Now the book says to start with 18 inches of spun yarn. How exactly is that supposed to happen when you don't have a way to spin it? Spinning yarn by hand is brutal, and 18 inches of it would have taken me until 3 am. Of course what I didn't realize at the time was that it doesn't have to be perfect to start out. A foot of crappy hand spun yarn would have probably worked. I resorted to regular yarn that I have lying around and figured that I could tie into that after I got it going. Once I hooked up the regular yarn to the bobbin and started spinning, it went like a breeze....until I added in the carded wool and then it would promptly gum up and derail the entire operation by breaking whatever thread I had on the bobbin. It was now 1 am.

Why so late? I have no idea what kept me up and going. I had been struggling all day at work to keep my eyes open and my head above water, but when I sat down with that wheel I felt happy and content. I honestly think I could have probably worked with it all night. I didn't feel rushed to get it going or figure it out and

I was very content to have to restart again and again. I simply loved the rhythm of the thing, the gentle "whirring" of the wheel once I got it going, and the lanolin that started to build up on my fingers from messing with the wool. I pictured my grandma and her mom before her sitting with this same wheel and it made me feel connected to them. Crazy as it may seem, I felt like they were there with me. Chuckling at my fumbling fingers and encouraging me to try it just once more as my grandma had done so many times before with other craft projects that she had taught me. She was the epitome of patience and skill with doing things by hand. It was only because I knew the morning would come quickly and I had plans to take the kiddos sledding that finally convinced me to turn in. Total accumulated spun yarn - zip! New found appreciation for all my ancestors - huge!

Since Tuesday night I have worked with it more and steadily climbed the steep learning curve. By Wednesday night I had a small ball

of crudely spun wool with multiple breaks and varying degrees of thickness. By Thursday night I had more yarn spun, slightly thinner and more even in the thickness of the strand. I am hoping that maybe by the end of the weekend I will have the rest of the wool carded and spun with some degree of competency and then I can embark on the dyeing process.

The biggest question that I hear uttered from my husband's lips periodically as he trips over my bag of wool or has to navigate around me in the middle of the kitchen is, "Why?" Why am I bothering to learn how to spin one sheep's worth of wool? The reasons are two fold. 1) It gives Lambie a reason for living. How insane is it to keep this crazy, random sheep fed and housed if she does not give us anything in return. Sheep are good for two things - meat and fiber and as much as I was against getting her in the first place, I honestly can't see taking her to the butcher at this point, not when she has spent the first months of her life living in my entry way behind the door - that practically makes her family. 2) it is something that I have always wanted to learn to do.

I totally understand that it is much easier to go to a yarn shop and pick up whatever yarn I like in any color and style, but I know this sheep and her wool, I know what had to be done to get the wool, and I know this spinning wheel and the ancestors that used it before me. I feel more connected to this yarn than any that I have ever picked up in any shop. It may not be the finest and it may end up being difficult to knit with, but I have raised, sheered, carded and spun every fiber of this yarn. I like to think that Grandma would be proud.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

The Week Between

There is this weird and funky week between Christmas and New Years. Nothing of any great importance ever gets accomplished during this week. You sort of check into work to make sure things are still going alright, but no new projects are usually tackled unless you need a serious tax write off.

This is the assessment week. The week of the year when you kind of wrap up all the miscellaneous odds and ends that need wrapping up. What were the top new stories? What were the best movies? Was it a good year? Did you accomplish what you set out to do? Did you stick to the resolutions? Do you even remember what they were?

I don't make resolutions anymore. Too much pressure and guilt associated with that practice. I will, periodically make a resolution in the middle of the year out of the clear blue, like "I will no longer drink pop except for special occasions", and then do it. I only tackle the resolutions that I am absolutely ready to do and know I can accomplish. Gives a person a feeling of satisfaction. It is like making the "to do list" and writing down the things that you have already accomplished for the day.

One of our spontaneous resolutions this last month was to not spend much (if any) money on Christmas presents. I am proud to say that we accomplished this resolution. With five kiddos - three under the age of 8 - this can be a li

ttle tricky. We did spring for a few nice gifts which of course came from Santa himself - a "multi-use" tool for my son, an art pastel drawing book for one daughter, water color paints for another daughter, and two webkins - which were the only two technologically advanced gifts we bought. Everything else required some imagination and/or work. One of the favorite gifts by far as been the five decks of playing cards that we then put to almost immediate use to play "Nuts" also known as "Oh, Hell!" in some circles - ironically, the 4 year old was kicking our butts last night. The rest of the gifts...., well let's just say that re- gifting is alive and well at our house and we keep the second hand stores in business.

Christmas has gotten entirely out of hand. There is simply too much STUFF that people feel they have to have. What does it do for us? Does it make us happier? Does it save us time? If we are in it to save time, what do we do with all the time that was saved?.....go out and buy more stuff? It is crazy! The thing that what scares me the most is seeing what it does to kids that think that they have to have all this crap and have really no idea of what it costs - both in money and in the destruction of brain cells.

We don't have a gaming system at our house. We do this on purpose. If I had my druthers, we wouldn't have a T.V. either. My kids sometimes tell me that we are very old fashioned compared to their friends. I asked my only son once if this bothered him, "Not really. There is too much other fun stuff to do." he said......he is my favorite son.

They seem to get it though, why we deprive them of all the crap....I mean stuff that all their friends seem to be inundated with and if they don't get it I just shove them out the door and tell them to go find two sticks and have a sword fight with a sibling.

I just watched my kids have a blast all day playing cards with each other, painting, playing pretend dress up, drawing and putting a puzzle together. I have a feeling that when they think back to their childhoods, they will remember the crazy things that they did together rather than the time that they spent glued to a computer for their allotted 30 minutes of time. I know that is what I remember from being a kid. I remember blowing up army guys with my brother out on the driveway, I remember swinging on the swing set, I remember dressing up and playing house - those were the fun times. Sitting in front of a computer, although sometimes very cool.....like now..... it is also very lonely. What we humans seem to have made up for in technology we have lost in social connectedness and meaningful interaction.

This has led to a new spontaneous resolution for this new year that is rapidly approaching - I will be attempting to send out hand written, personal letters to family and friends. Each day or two I think of a person that I haven't written to in a while and sit down to write a few lines in a card to them and send it off. No cookie cutter holiday cards this year....there wasn't enough cash for that, but there is enough care and affection to take the time to write and let people know that I think of them. It may take me until June, but I will hopefully get through my holiday list before next winter. So far, two down and about 120 more to go.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

A Breed Apart

No farm would be complete without a few farm cats around. I have quite a few. Occupational hazard as a small animal veterinarian....you accumulate all those that desperately need a home or face extinction. The one advantage I have, however, is the ability to be sure that they are all spayed and neutered and vaccinated for the worst of the cat viruses.

I have seen many farms (and grew up on one) that was not able to provide this service to the cats that came to stay. What would start out as one cat, would quickly turn into seven.....and then 49....and then...well, you get the picture until some horrible virus would sweep through the lot and kill off 90% of them. That was devastating as a kid. That is one of the many reasons that I became a vet - hard to look a dying, beloved kitten named Fred in the face and know that he is being killed by a completely preventable disease without making promises to devote your life

to stamping out disease and illness.....and so, several years later and several thousands of dollars poorer, I take on the huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

I try to keep it within reason though. After a while it gets to be a little nuts when you can't make it from your car to the front door without tripping over three or four cats all winding around your legs and purring for affection.

The outdoor cats when I was a kid, were scrawny and wormy and scruffy looking. The ones that I have collected now are a beautiful clowder of cats thanks to a little help from modern medicine and good nutrition. Fed twice daily (or they wouldn't let you get a thing done outside) they are all hefty with thick coats in the winter.

A few of them are the farm "Originals" - bred and raised here on the farm by a wayward cat named "Slinky" because she never did stay around - Festus, Abby and Shadow are from that original bunch.

Then there is Tigger. I came across him while working as a relief vet. He had been abandoned by his original owner at the clinic - left him to board and then never came back to get him. One of the techs tried to take him home but discovered that he peed on everything. So, Tigger spent approximately two years in a small 2 x 3 foot cage and would be at the clinic every time I came in.

One day, I simply couldn't take it anymore and Tigger came home with me. He is every ounce the appreciative cat. He lives to be held and cuddled and will happily drool all over your lap while you hold him. I love to find him lounging among the flowers in the summer and curled up in the straw or hay in the winter. He ambles along with a shuffle that is similar to that of a raccoon, so he has, at times freaked me out in the dark of the night when I see him trotting up behind me.

Frodo found us. No idea where he came from but he was definitely a wild cat when he showed up. I enticed him with food for several days before I brought my net home from work and managed to catch him. He was promptly neutered and vaccinated before being released back into the wilds of our farm.

Originally, my son named him "Mittens", but I simply couldn't humiliate the poor boy with that name and when I realized that he has a perfect white ring around the end of his tail, his name became obvious....Frodo- he carries the ring. It took Frodo a while to warm up to us, and I wasn't entirely sure that he would stick around, but then one day he inadvertently got close enough to pet and suddenly he realized what he had been missing all his life - affection! Now, he sees us coming and his tail will shoot straight up and he will run along side with his funny bunny hopping gait and then sidles up to us and flirts until he gets the attention that he seeks.

Raven is our two year old kitten. She is the boss of the lot and most of the other cats hate her. She is very food motivated and will strike fear into any that attempt to eat before she does.

Her first winter on the farm she even took on our dog, Gina, a large Golden Retriever/Great Pyrenees mix. Suffice it to say that more blood was lost from Gina than from Raven. Her best, and only friend appears to be Tink. He is the new boy this year.

One of a litter of strays that needed a home and after spending the requisite amount of time in my clinic where I completely fell in love with him, he was brought home to the farm. He is as crazy about food as Raven is. He, too, took on Gina over her food bowl and once again, Gina was the one to loose more blood through an impressive scratch to her nose.

What amazes me the most about these little cats is how tough and resilient they are. I always say that when the people of the world ruin it completely with our pollution and atomic bombs, there will be two things left - cockroaches.....and cats. Cats

are obligate carnivores which means that they are best suited to getting their protein from meat. Plant material really doesn't do their system any good simply because they don't break it down well. This has never stopped a cat from trying however, and typically they do get a bit of plant material from the prey that they catch . Hungry cats are really not too picky about eating select parts of birds and beasts....they eat all the parts if they are hungry enough. And when they aren't hungry, they bring what's left as a gift for the people in their life that they love most.....never mind that we aren't really into the whole "headless mouse" thing.

Obligate carnivore aside, I have seen these farm cats eat everything from left over soggy cereal to ears of corn. They can be ravenous little animals. I have had visions of falling on my way to the barn and having them quickly devour me.

The biggest problem that we have on this farm is that the great majority of the cats are male. Now, no offense to males of any species,

but male cats tend to be very lazy. Most of this crowd finds the warmest, sunniest spot to hang out for the day to wait for the food to be served in the evening. The girls tend to be the ones to take off hunting for a while. Abby was gone for about a month, we had given up on her coming home and then one night I looked down and there she was amid the mob as usual.

Farm cats will often disappear for days or even weeks at a time. You have to have a very relaxed relationship with farm cats because you just never know if it is an extended hunting trip that keeps them away, or if they have gone to the great cat beyond in some unfortunate accident on the road. There are nights when I will know that one or more of the cats didn't come home for dinner and then hear the coyotes off in the distance and I say a silent prayer to whatever god might protect wayward cats. It isn't that I don't love them and wouldn't like to protect them, but I have come to realize that they are a breed onto their own...wild, yet accommodating and affectionate when the mood strikes. I simply co-exist with them and appreciate them when they arrive. There should be more relationships like this in the world.

Sometimes it is nicer not knowing exactly what befalls them. We have found our share of them on the road after an unfortunate encounter with a car or truck. The sudden knowledge stabs right to your core as you realize that one of your friends has been run down. It doesn't matter that "it is only a cat" because to those of us that love them, they are family.

Occasionally, they simply disappear and we don't know where they go. I had a cat on the farm when I was going to vet school named Tanner - he was a big cream colored, bowlegged boy that had been there from the day we bought the farm. Two years into our stay on the farm, he disappeared sometime in early January. I missed him. Not that I depended upon him for anything, but I missed him trailing around after me while I was outside. Cats have a funny way of just wanting to be with you. They don't want to lick your face or play ball like a dog does, they just want to hang out. Generally, they hang out and sleep, but at least they are there for you.

This last fall I was digging potatoes and had to physically move two of them from their warm nests that they had claimed among my potato plants.

Anyway.....back to Tanner.....I was standing outside on sometime near the middle of April, and as I looked across the plowed field I noticed a cat trotting toward the house. He was big and cream colored,....and bowlegged just like.....Tanner! I called his name and the trotting cat broke into a run across the field. It was like The Incredible Journey with me falling to my knees and Tanner running to sit in my lap, purring as though he had never left. I have no idea where he was or what took him away, but I was glad he was home. Glad, and amazed, and awestruck! Four months he was gone! Where did he go and how did he get there? How did he know how to come home? The questions never have answers, they never tell their tales.

I am always sort of flattered that a farm cat would want to spend time with me. They are such amazing animals and I am often in awe of their abilities. They don't need us, they can take or leave humans, they have the ability to hunt and feed themselves easily and yet they seem to enjoy spending time with us. I have a hypothesis that they are as entertained by our crazy human antics as we are by their feline ones and we are both just waiting around to see what the other one might do next.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Like a Kid at Christmas

My favorite of all favorite catalogs came yesterday. It comes only once a year and I treasure it all year long. I cut pictures of from it to use in various places, I dream about all the fun stuff that lies within it and I drool over the pictures and imagine what it would be like to have one of each. I am worse than any kid approaching Christmas with a toy catalog in their hands.

It is my Seed Savers catalog. This thing is amazing!

Seed Savers is a company out of Decorah, Iowa that exists to provide heritage and heirloom seeds. These are seeds that will reproduce produce year after year that is of consistent quality.

There are other seed companies in the world, such as Monsanto and Novartis and many others that you will see with their names in very small print on the packets of seed that you buy in the stores-those seeds are raised to provide produce for one year only and if they do happen to come up the next year they are typically of inferior quality and will never make it to a third year.

They have genetically modified the seeds that are produced to be unable to produce viable seeds of their own (sterile seeds), thus ensuring that you will need to buy more seeds next year as well. It keeps them in business. Monsanto has taken this to the extreme and trademarked their modified genes. If any farmers are caught storing their seed, they are sued and not many small farmers can stand up to the agribusiness giant.

Seed Savers is NOT that type of company. They work to provide the best quality seeds they possibly can knowing that if they a

re saved by the purchaser, they will provide even more seeds for the future. They are dedicated to storing seeds of countless varieties of vegetables to protect them for future generations.

One of the most dangerous problems that we run into with producing crops is the loss of variety. We are turning into a monoculture of vegetables - corn. It is in everything! And much of the corn produced is Monsanto corn (at least in the Midwest). A single culture of anything is not healthy for the environment.

Think of this from a honey bee's perspective. Thousands of acres and only one plant for pollen....corn. And honey bees don't usually use corn for pollen. With the lack of other pollen options due to herbicide use, huge numbers of bees get lost. One day of spraying insecticide on the crops while the bees are busy...more bees wiped out, or worse yet, they take the insecticide back to the hive and pollute the hive with it. A bee, without options, will not do very well. Think of the bees as a the proverbial "canary in the mine"....if the canary comes up dead that is a good indication that the mine isn't safe.....the bees are coming up dead. Colony Collapse Disorder is becoming more and more of a problem - one in which they don't completely understand the cause, but regardless, I think we should be taking it as a warning sign that things are not looking good for the bees.....or us.

So, it is because of their business policy and their mission, Seed Savers is the only place that I buy seeds for my summer vegetable garden. I have purchased many of the seeds and saved many from year to year with great success, yet somehow I still feel compelled to try new varieties and new fruits and vegetables. Their seeds cost a little more, but if you consider that they send with them instructions on how to save them for the next year, it is really more of an investment.

This is the time that the garden starts. Now, while there is still snow on the ground and a ton more to fall yet this winter, while the days are way too short and the nights incredibly long....now is the time that the garden gets planned for the year. I pull out the drawings from the last few years for where everything was planted and I contemplate how much energy I may or may not have. I think about how many kids will need 4-H projects to grow and how much work I can con them into. I count how many seeds I was able to save from last year (or the year before) and contemplate the germination percentage. I read through my garden journal from last year to determine which crops were the best and which ones I should pass over.

Corn....I will need new and different corn. This is one of the problems with trying to raise heirloom quality seeds

amidst and ocean of field corn. I had wonderful corn two years ago and I saved the seed. Problem was there was genetic drift from the field corn that first year so the second year that I tried to grow the corn, it had taken on some of the characteristics of the field corn and didn't produce as well. Chances are good that I had acquired some of Monsanto's trademark genes much to my dismay. Don't want them - they didn't do my corn any good.

Heirloom seeds tend to produce very vigorous plants and, if you stick with one variety you can keep your seeds very pure. When the varieties start to mix however, you can come up with some interesting crops....like the 'cuash' that I grew a few years ago - a cross between a cucumber and a squash. Needless to say, these are not typically the seeds that I keep.

And then there are the seeds that are hard to harvest - carrots, for instance, have to be grown for two years before they will produce seeds - this can be a bit of a trick and not something that I typically tackle. It has happened by accident now and then, but that is really more a process of chance and poor tilling in the spring.

This year we are planning to expand the garden. We have just cut into our last onion for the winter, so we will definitely need a few hundred more

onions to plant for next year. Carrots we ran out of sometime in September. Trying to grow enough to supply a family of seven through an Iowa winter can be a definite challenge.

The potatoes that I picked out last year - German Butterballs - didn't produce very well and despite the fact that they are supposed to be excellent keepers, you can't keep what you weren't able to produce in the first place, so I will be switching back to Yukon Gold Potatoes because they produced bushel after bushel of potatoes that lasted through most of the winter, and they were huge!

One of my favorite of all crops to grow is tomatoes. I, personally, cannot eat a raw tomato....it's a consistency thing. But any and everything made out of tomatoes are my favorites. I toss them in salads, I make bruschetta, I make pizza sauce and can marinara for the winter. I usually manage to put up about 45 quarts of marinara every year using a recipe that I found in the wonderful book by Barbara Kingsolver, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. I plant Amish Paste tomatoes that make a magnificent sauce a

nd the seeds have kept and germinated nicely year after year. Typically 13 tomato plants is enough to provide a family of 7 with home made spaghetti sauce every week for the entire year.

I could go on for days about the wonders of the seeds contained within this catalog. There is no other seed catalog that comes that can match it....and trust me, I get a lot of seed catalogs. So, the wind may blow and the snow may fall, but I rest easy in the knowledge that spring is coming. How do I know it is coming? Because the Seed Savers Catalog is here.