Basics: How to Cook Link Sausages

Knackwurst are one of our most favorite sausages with the gentle mix of traditional German spices and a natural casing that pops to perfectly when you bite into it. But sometimes links like these can come out crumbly, weep out all their fat, or have split casings. This is how we cook ours for that great brat experience every time.

Start with completely defrosted sausages and an oven-safe skillet on medium high heat. Also preheat your oven to 375 degrees

Start with completely defrosted sausages and an oven-safe skillet on medium high heat. Also preheat your oven to 375 degrees

Sear your sausages on all sides

Sear your sausages on all sides

Pop the whole pan in the hot oven for exactly 7 minutes and Ta Da! Perfect links!

Pop the whole pan in the hot oven for exactly 7 minutes and Ta Da! Perfect links!

A little idea makes a big list

A few weeks ago, I was invited to contribute a "big idea" to the Arkansas Times' annual list of ways to improve our state in one way or another. As many of you know, I'm not short on (sometimes unreasonably) big ideas so I was happy to throw my brain waves in with so many quality Arkansas thinkers. With some help with interpretation and editing by Benji Hardy, here is the idea fit for print:

Arkansas needs an alternative to U.S. Department of Agriculture-inspected processing for direct-market livestock products. Regulations on meat processing have not caught up to the new, thriving market for locally sourced, humanely produced meat from smaller-scale farms. The USDA has relatively effective meat processing regulations designed to be minimally invasive for large-scale producers. But, in the same way that we don't have the physical and service infrastructure to meet the demands of the local food economy, we also lack the regulatory infrastructure. It is almost impossible for would-be meat processors to enter the abattoir business because of the high costs of opening and operating a large industrial operation. For example, USDA regulations require an on-site inspector paid for by the facility. Despite real interest from chefs, butchers and restaurateurs in Central Arkansas, the cost of running a fully licensed USDA abattoir is so prohibitive as to even daydream about the potential of such a venture. For farmers, this means abattoirs are a bottleneck. We have to work with the limitations of the two or three USDA-approved processors in the state or else drive our animals and products hundreds of miles to reach facilities in neighboring states. The logistics and expense of travel keep us on the highway instead of the farm and cause us to spend huge portions of our operating budgets on services outside the state, further adding to the long hours, stress and heavy operating costs that sink so many small farms before their third year of operation. And still, we can't meet the demands of the growing local foodie culture in the Little Rock area. Meanwhile, almost every county in Arkansas has a "custom processor" — a mom-and-pop shop where local hunters have their deer cut up and where everything is tagged with a "not for sale" label. Custom plants are only for end users, unfortunately. If our farm could use a local custom processing plant to produce cuts that would be sold to consumers, we would be able to lower our prices, offer a wider variety of products and spend more time perfecting our farming as opposed to our driving. Congress has proposed federal legislation to allow a means of regulating smaller-scale processors, but it has stalled. However, some states have created their own rules that meet federal standards for safety and cleanliness. Texas, for example, has set up a parallel system to USDA inspection that creates a license somewhere between a USDA facility and a custom-type plant. The state assigns an agent to supervise the handling of meat and ensure facilities meet basic requirements regarding contamination avoidance, basic humane care standards and so on. Regulation is a good thing, in general. We need parameters to help us define the niche that we work within. But in this case, the regulation needs an update. Our meat production system has swung so far toward large-scale farming in the last 70 years that now we are left only with the tiny remnants of a bygone production system, and not a lot of resources to meet the demand generated by contemporary food culture. For consumers, such reform would mean more choice. Not only would more farmers be able to more easily bring their products directly to market, there would be a huge opportunity for aspiring craft meat processors. Imagine if, like the blossoming of the gourmet food truck scene, we had a thriving community of creative artisan butchers suddenly able to manage the start-up costs of building or taking over a local custom processing plant. Today's foodies are embracing high-minded, highly crafted animal products, and Arkansas's livestock producers are eager to "meat" the need, but we have a dearth of specialists to convey our raw products into artisan food.

Arkansas needs an alternative to U.S. Department of Agriculture-inspected processing for direct-market livestock products. Regulations on meat processing have not caught up to the new, thriving market for locally sourced, humanely produced meat from smaller-scale farms. The USDA has relatively effective meat processing regulations designed to be minimally invasive for large-scale producers. But, in the same way that we don't have the physical and service infrastructure to meet the demands of the local food economy, we also lack the regulatory infrastructure.

It is almost impossible for would-be meat processors to enter the abattoir business because of the high costs of opening and operating a large industrial operation. For example, USDA regulations require an on-site inspector paid for by the facility. Despite real interest from chefs, butchers and restaurateurs in Central Arkansas, the cost of running a fully licensed USDA abattoir is so prohibitive as to even daydream about the potential of such a venture.

For farmers, this means abattoirs are a bottleneck. We have to work with the limitations of the two or three USDA-approved processors in the state or else drive our animals and products hundreds of miles to reach facilities in neighboring states. The logistics and expense of travel keep us on the highway instead of the farm and cause us to spend huge portions of our operating budgets on services outside the state, further adding to the long hours, stress and heavy operating costs that sink so many small farms before their third year of operation. And still, we can't meet the demands of the growing local foodie culture in the Little Rock area.

Meanwhile, almost every county in Arkansas has a "custom processor" — a mom-and-pop shop where local hunters have their deer cut up and where everything is tagged with a "not for sale" label. Custom plants are only for end users, unfortunately. If our farm could use a local custom processing plant to produce cuts that would be sold to consumers, we would be able to lower our prices, offer a wider variety of products and spend more time perfecting our farming as opposed to our driving.

Congress has proposed federal legislation to allow a means of regulating smaller-scale processors, but it has stalled. However, some states have created their own rules that meet federal standards for safety and cleanliness. Texas, for example, has set up a parallel system to USDA inspection that creates a license somewhere between a USDA facility and a custom-type plant. The state assigns an agent to supervise the handling of meat and ensure facilities meet basic requirements regarding contamination avoidance, basic humane care standards and so on.

Regulation is a good thing, in general. We need parameters to help us define the niche that we work within. But in this case, the regulation needs an update. Our meat production system has swung so far toward large-scale farming in the last 70 years that now we are left only with the tiny remnants of a bygone production system, and not a lot of resources to meet the demand generated by contemporary food culture.

For consumers, such reform would mean more choice. Not only would more farmers be able to more easily bring their products directly to market, there would be a huge opportunity for aspiring craft meat processors. Imagine if, like the blossoming of the gourmet food truck scene, we had a thriving community of creative artisan butchers suddenly able to manage the start-up costs of building or taking over a local custom processing plant. Today's foodies are embracing high-minded, highly crafted animal products, and Arkansas's livestock producers are eager to "meat" the need, but we have a dearth of specialists to convey our raw products into artisan food.

Check out the full list of Big Ideas for Arkansas here.

If you were a chicken

I would ask you one million questions. Do you prefer roosts made from a cedar limb or an oak? Would you rather have pine shavings or old hay for bedding? Should I turn your house so it fills with light at sunrise or do you prefer to go lay outside like you do? Are you sitting with your friends there? Do you have friends?

I would grill you (with questions) because, dear bird, you are so hard to read sometimes. I want to make you happy, to fill your life with all the riches you deserve. And yet, you walk around in your tottering way, head jerking this way and that, all feathered and everything. If you never furrow your brow, how can I tell when you are displeased?
Perhaps I overcompensate for your inscrutability. Perhaps you don't care whether that grain was sprouted or not, whether the surfaces of your coop are wood or metal, if there's a vinegar tang to your water. If you would just bend your little beak into a smile or frown one time, at one of the million little things I do for you! 
 

Instead I will pass yet another coffee break striving to decipher your unblinking gaze, content to know that in the end my efforts may or may not make you happy, but they do make you delicious.

Building the Road as We Walk It

Before digging into this post, you may enjoy the one before it called "Finding Real Sustainability"

The front valley, April 2015

The front valley, April 2015

In late 2014/early 2015 we bought the new farm and suddenly had a canvas on which to paint our long-simmering farm fantasies. Fantasies which somehow managed to grow and blossom in a million directions despite the 10 years of unrelenting, challenging farm and family building we had already been doing on two other properties. Other than gently rolling pasture, large stands of mixed woodland, tons of wildlife, and a surprisingly decent perimeter fence, the new land came with no useful infrastructure. No water, no power, no structures for people or livestock until we brought it or built it. What an enticing and imposing hill to climb, and most importantly, a real opportunity to integrate our higher vision into our on-the-ground operation. 

In many ways we are already a sustainable family farm. We raise heritage breed livestock with love on pasture and in the woods, we source our feeds locally, we don’t use any hormones or chemicals on our animals or our land. We sell our products locally at farmer’s markets, through community minded businesses, and through a thriving farm share. We work side by side with our children and find deep satisfaction in our labor. Our business is profitable, our products are highly acclaimed, and we have achieved the highest animal welfare designation available to owner-operated farms.

The fifth generation of our own hog breed meets the world

The fifth generation of our own hog breed meets the world

This sounds a lot like sustainability, but viewed from another angle, we are still hitting too wide from the mark. We still rely too heavily on outside inputs. We work too hard, over too many hours. We have a mountain of debt. We have not yet met our own standards of animal welfare or meat quality. So we are sustainable in those smaller, disparate ways but we can do more to create a fuller, deeper kind of sustainability for our farm and our lives as farmers.

Two years of studying and comprehensive planning have lead to our 20 year plan to creating and supporting a multilayer ecosystem that fully feeds our animals on the way to feeding us. The goal is to shift more of our labor onto the animals and the ecosystem of the farm, which will release us from the physical and financial burden of outside inputs. We will weave the outside community into the farm more and more, while steadily increasing diversity in the ecosystem. This plan is broken down into development phases and has five branches that weave throughout- the animals, the open spaces & woodlands, the business, the farmers, and the community. Each phase includes aspects for several branches at once and may last from 2-10 years. 

Roughly speaking, here is the broad plan that we'll flesh out over the next few posts:

One of our Corriente-Angus heifers at the foundation of our breeding program. She'll be bred to a Wagyu bull.

One of our Corriente-Angus heifers at the foundation of our breeding program. She'll be bred to a Wagyu bull.

Phase 1: Foundation; underlying infrastructure development including soils, water catchment and retention systems, and major landscaping like significant brush clearing and large scale tree removal and planting, identify and begin correcting soil nutrient imbalances, developing marketing channels and improving community involvement

Phase 2: Improvement & Introduction; supporting landscape growth and development, improving livestock handling and grazing systems, introducing domestic waterfowl, bees, and small ruminants.

Phase 3: Maintenance; helping it all keep growing well by pruning and thinning trees for balanced growth, continuing selective breeding and culling in livestock herds, applying appropriate soil amendments to continue long term soil development

As we get developed the foundational phase of our plan we realized that the shear ambition of portions of the work ahead would take significant resources to complete. For us, that would mean accomplishing most of it in pieces and over the course of many years. With a relatively small financial boost, we could make big changes in a much more condensed period, and reap some wonderful benefits much more quickly. We want to be able to share the amazing, wonderful products from our permaculture developments with you all as soon as possible! So, we launched a Kickstarter campaign called "Forage Forest for Tasty, Happy Meats"! 

Next time on the blog, we'll begin fleshing out the many facets of each phase in 'A Plan for the Long Haul'

Finding Real Sustainability

After 12 years in this business growing along side the local markets, watching other farms come and go, developing and then outgrowing 2 farms of our own, Travis and I think a lot about what it takes to keep our farm going for the long haul. At the first realization that we had outgrown the farm and house we had recently finished building, that the future of our operation would have to be on a third farm, we also realized the opportunity to re-envision our path. How could we ensure that ours would not be the next farm to fold for farmer exhaustion, unbalanced finances, or failure to secure our niche in the shifting marketplace? We need some baseline kind of sustainability that is as resilient as possible. 

The word "sustainable" gets bandied about quite a lot in this kind of agriculture. Most of the time, we use it to draw a contrast between the smaller scale, ecologically and ethically minded methods and the "conventional" approach to food production. But "sustainable" is a problematic catchall for the wide variety of diversified small farms because it is so unspecific. Its such an easy and effective keyword for locally-minded small farms because we automatically ascribe a wide array of meanings to the term. And while most farms are sustainable in one sense or another, as consumers and even farmers considering our own operations or trying to learn from each other, we readily project all the other possible kinds of sustainability onto anyone under that big grand umbrella; "Sustainable". Perhaps we are so disgusted by conventional farming and eager for wholesome alternatives, I don't know, but I am as guilty of this as the next person and I think this projection is why so many people try to farm and eventually abandon the project- one kind of sustainability does not naturally bring about all the other necessary kinds of sustainability. 

There are so many smaller ways that a farm can be sustainable without also having the long term, all encompassing kind of sustainability that makes businesses multigenerational, ecosystems self-sustaining, quality of life well-balanced. A farm can have excellent environmental sustainability by rotating the uses of their land and employing all of the value of their renewable resources, but if the business isn't profitable or the farmers are working themselves to exhaustion and family life is troubled, it would be hard to call that farm "sustainable". Likewise, there are plenty of profitable farms that neglect the ecological or community impacts of their operations and we wouldn't call those sustainable. Successful, long lasting farms will have all found their own routes to a fully balanced version of sustainability. What could ours be?

The many challenges of creating long-lasting economic, ecological, and community sustainability are what keep me up at night, make me crunch every number then look for more to crunch, pour over all kinds of books in the late hours of the night, and rise before the sun to tend the ever growing herd of animals in our charge. I want the work we do to be good. Not just satisfying, or delicious, or even inspiring. I want every day to be a meaningful part of creating a safe, beautiful space that is fully sustainable. I want the business to be strong and self-supporting so that my children or some other inspired young person can take the helm some day. I want the ecosystem to support a tremendous diversity of living things free of outside inputs. I want a broad, strong community to find communion in the space and products of the farm. How the heck do I accomplish this fantastic ambition?

We need a deep, wide-ranging plan so this 1,000 mile journey can be taken in little, daily steps. As you may have suspected, we have been working for the last two years on just such a plan. 

Next up: Building the Road as We Walk It

Chicken

Feral mama hen raising her chicks without any assistance amidst the woodland sow pasture.

Feral mama hen raising her chicks without any assistance amidst the woodland sow pasture.

The semi-feral chickens from the woods at our old farm have resumed wild living and are thriving in the woods on the north west corner of the new farm. These second and third generation chicken families,  and the learned behaviors they utilize to provide for themselves inspire me to keep tinkering with our production system.  

There are several phases to producing a lovely oven-ready chicken, which means there are plenty of areas to develop and progress towards a chickeny fantasy that combines the freedom of expression and quality of life of the feral birds with the practical and economical needs of the farmer. This last week it was the brooding that got a perennial fresh look. Since there's no road map to the fantasy system of the far off future, I can look at what other pioneers in the field are doing and think up my own varied versions. 

I want to give the chicks what they seem to be looking for in the first days out of the shell. They want to be under something, they want to be very warm, they like the dark. Of course, a mother hen does this all pretty effectively by squatting just over the chicks, concealing them in the blanket of her feathers, nuzzled up to the warmth of her body. Most brooder designs have the warmth part covered, though very few allow the cover and darkness. I've tried to solve those other two a couple of times before but couldn't keep temperatures in the right range and ultimately had to resort to the same old bright, open brooding methods. Our latest model, in use right this minute, is a 60 year old idea originating from the University of Ohio called a hover brooder. The idea is a box with light fixtures inside that holds the heat in a concentrated area just above the chicks, allowing a low warm area for the chicks to hide under. The original plans have an incandescent light bulb or heat lamp bulb in the fixtures, both of which put out a considerable amount of light. Our plan is to use ceramic terrarium heat bulbs which only emit heat, no light- keeping it cozy and dark while saving in electricity ($) along the way. Unfortunately the bulbs I got for this go-round are the lowest wattage and don't put out enough heat on their own to keep our peeps toasty as the overnight lows start dipping into frost territory, so while the bigger ceramic bulbs are on order we have one ceramic bulb and one old fashioned, red-glowing heat bulb in the box. 

The other new idea is to brood the chicks in their pasture pen so that as they grow, there won't be any big, dramatic changes. To this end, I placed the hover brooder in the middle of one of our chicken tractors with bedding under and around the brooder and then plenty of grass around that. The chicks are free to explore around the pen and pop back under the hover whenever they need a cozy nap spot. To minimize draft we enclosed the open sides of the tractor with plastic on one side and metal on another. As their feathers grow in we can phase out the hover by turning off the heat, then removing the hover entirely, and finally begin moving the tractor more and more each day. By the time they're reach harvest weight in January, they'll be scooting around the pasture and fertilizing two full pen lengths per day. Here's a little timelapse video of some of our birds growing in 2013 in one of the pens we still employ:

In 2013 we used a timelapse camera to capture meat chickens growing to market weight in mobile pens. This is still the way we raise our meat birds.

Directions to Our Farm

Wouldn't you like to know how to get to our farm? 

From Little Rock:

  1. Take Hwy 10/Cantrell Rd west out of town.
  2. Continue for 29.4 miles (from the Walmart super center at Cantrell/Chenal intersection) to Perryville.
  3. Turn Left onto AR-60 W/Aplin St.
  4. Continue for 18.7 miles, the driveway will be on your left. We have a street sign so look out for "Possum Song Trail" on your left. There is also a "Farm Girl Meats" sign pinned to a tree.

From Conway (starting at the river bridge):

  1. Cross the river on AR-60 W, continue for 17 miles to Perryville.
  2. Follow AR-60 W through Perryville. To do this, turn left at the Sonic onto Fourche Ave, then Right onto AR-60 W/Aplin St.
  3. Continue for 18.7 miles, the driveway will be on your left. We have a street sign so look out for "Possum Song Trail" on your left. There is also a "Farm Girl Meats" sign pinned to a tree.

From Russellville:

  1. Take AR-7 S out of town.
  2. Follow AR-7 S through Dardanelle.
  3. Turn Left onto AR-60 E. Continue 2.2 miles.
  4. The driveway will be on your right. We have a street sign so look out for "Possum Song Trail" on your left. There is also a "Farm Girl Meats" sign pinned to a tree.

From Hot Springs/Hot Springs Village:

  1. Take AR-7 North. Continue approximately 37 miles (from the intersection of AR-5 and AR-7)
  2. Turn Right onto AR-60 E.
  3. Continue 2.2 miles. The driveway will be on your right. We have a street sign so look out for "Possum Song Trail" on your left. There is also a "Farm Girl Meats" sign pinned to a tree.

What the Pigs Eat

Before us, our pastures were first compacted by 15 years of continuous grazing, then lay fallow for seven months. This allowed any dormant seed, shoot, or root to seize the opportunity. We have a long term plan to support more grass-type forages and in the mean time, our animals are all rotating across the incredibly dense and fragrant, shoulder-high brush. It's a completely interwoven mat of various thorny brambles, saplings, grasses, broadleaf "weeds", and grasses. Each species  picks their way through, sometimes digging their faces deep into the verdant thicket to extract their preferred nibbles. One of our favorite activities right now is to walk through each paddock and observe the grazing behaviors of each group.

This morning, I spent some time with our growing hogs to learn more about what whets their whistles at this late summer buffet. While I was there I made a short video of a gilt (young female pig) working for her breakfast. In it you will see some of the things she nibbles and a wider view of the pasture the pigs are enjoying right now. You will hear her gentle call grunts to the other pigs- this constant back and forth is how they stick together in dense brush, and you will hear the banging of the metal doors on their auto feeder. We provide free access to a corn and soybean based feed supplement to ensure a basic level of nutrition, but they clearly prefer the vegetation around them. When the grazing is good, like right now, as much as 60% of their feed comes from foraging. 

That gilt (a young female pig) is chowing down on pretty much the same stuff as all her brethren today, so what are they eating? 

Fescue

Fescue

Fescue Grass

This is a long lived bunch grass that grows well all over the South East. It does much of it's growing in the cooler times of the year and becomes unpalatable to almost all species, even mildly poisonous to ruminants during the hot dry periods of the year. Since we are enjoying a few milder weeks of early fall and there has been gentle rain over the last few nights, the fescue is springing out of it's summer doldrums with lots of tender new growth. All the pigs were ferreting out the bunches of fescue coming back to life in the understory of the brambly thicket around them. At about 1:36 in the video, the pig pulls out a whole clump of this grass by its roots, which she eats in all.

 
Smilax Rotifundula aka Common Greenbriar

Smilax Rotifundula aka Common Greenbriar

Common Greenbriar

Around the 35 second mark we see the gilt begin picking the leaves off of an upright stalk. This is Smilax Rotifundula aka Common Greenbriar. It is a vining shrub that grows from a starchy, knobby root up to a height of 12' where it has some support. In the open pasture it is a 5' spiny stem with heart shaped leaves. I can tell you from personal experience that the young shoots taste somewhat like asparagus and pretty much all the animals agree that it is quite palatable. The internet even claims a root beer type beverage can be made by grinding and fermenting the root. Until today, Common Greenbriar has been the pigs' favorite forb. Like you see in the video, they carefully strip the leaves leaving the thorny stalks bare.

 
Sericea Lespedeza

Sericea Lespedeza

Sericea Lespedeza

Sericea Lespedeza is an herby, medicinal legume that grows best in compacted, acidic soils so we have a lot of it. No one seems to eat it in huge quantities but from the donkeys to the chickens to the cattle and pigs, everyone does eat some. Since it is generally unpalatable, they might instinctively understand that that unpleasing bitterness comes from the concentrated tannins which have been shown to inhibit the fertility of intestinal worms, decrease inflammation, and improve the processing of some micronutrients and complex proteins. The Sericea variety of Lespedeza is unique among these legumes in that it grows happily all summer long in the hot, humid South. We wouldn't even have this tonic weed in Arkansas if enterprising road engineers hadn't imported it from eastern Asia in the 1930's for erosion control. 

These are the top three forages that the pigs are chowing on today but we've observed them at least tasting the full smorgasbord which includes persimmon saplings, blackberry shoots, sweet gum saplings, 3 different clover varieties, wild hemp, sedges, spurges, mustard, bindweed, and so many others. I'm looking forward to checking in again in as fall progresses for another snapshot of the pigs' salad bar.

So Little and yet So Much is Happening

Despite blocking out an entire month for the most dramatic part of the move- ourselves and the animals- this has only barely begun. And despite our deep toolbox of skills, we can't diy road building or power-grid harnessing, leaving the steps to electricity (and the electric fences that make our farm run) so far outside of our control. Some mountain of money would probably move the backhoe a little faster or bring the electric coop guys buzzing around at our smallest beckoning but since we are lowly farmer folk, we are stuck with the standard procedure.

BUT THINGS ARE HAPPENING!

  • There has been dirt work and it has produced our new driveway! With the cabin habitable (see Pa builds a claim shanty) and many of our accessories (like the lounging grain bin in the picture) and animal infrastructure coming into place, animal movement and house construction will take off at blazing speed probably, likely very soon.
First you must drive off the highway and up a hill. At the top, you will see the new farmstore (eventually) and when you turn right, you'll see this, the road through the trees to our house.

First you must drive off the highway and up a hill. At the top, you will see the new farmstore (eventually) and when you turn right, you'll see this, the road through the trees to our house.

  • The cows and donkeys got to move! Saying they enjoy the new grass is a laughable understatement. Here is Blondie, our butterfat queen surveying the scene:
"Grass up to my eyeballs as far as I can see? A pond for my drinking and mud bathing pleasure? What is this, Shangrila?"

"Grass up to my eyeballs as far as I can see? A pond for my drinking and mud bathing pleasure? What is this, Shangrila?"

  • A 1980 4wd toyota pickup in rust and blue joined our vehicle pool! She will make the long, sometimes soggy route through chores possible. My boots alone won't cut it hauling feed and farm girls over those distances day in and day out and Travis the truck scout came through for his demanding bride:
She's certainly had prettier days but her can-do 'tude and unbreakable character is just the thing to keep us moving

She's certainly had prettier days but her can-do 'tude and unbreakable character is just the thing to keep us moving

  • COW SHOPPING! We've been planning our return to beef cattle for a couple of years but haven't had the space to even think about searching our our perfect herd...until now! As soon as we signed the papers, we started looking and talking to people and craigslisting and talking to people. Eventually Trav and I took the best kind of date- a no-nonsense road trip to Mississippi to give the hard eye to some fine ladies. And boy are they fine ladies. After warning us not to touch the shotgun in his truck, their attendant curmudgeon beamed (or grimaced?) with pride describing their unreal fertility, thriftiness, demeanor, and top shelf mothering. We were impressed by their beautiful condition and their rolly polly calves. They looked at us just as hard as we looked at them while the cattleman looked on and eventually judged us to be worthy of his special little herd. Since 26 cattle wouldn't fit in our car, we had to leave them in Mississippi for a little while longer. There are some calls to make and leads to follow but we expect a specially outfitted semi to bring them our way by the end of the month. Eventually I'll get around to a post about why these particular cows, the unconventional breeding plan we have for them, and the unparalleled beef we expect to share with you in a few years time (cows grow slow). In the mean time, lets celebrate being cowgirls and daydream about watching the herd graze in our beautiful valley.
  • What's Next? 

While we wait 1 or 1 million weeks for electricity, we are putting up the to-be-electrified fences that will define various pastures and the solid fences of the working chutes and sorting paddocks. On the home front we have been presorting the hogs and moving them to readily accessible paddocks for easy loading. As soon as those electrons are flowing in our direction, we'll begin several days of dawn-to-dusk herding, sorting, loading, and hauling pigs and chickens. There will be one million trips back and forth between the properties so we are working diligently now to make everything at both ends ready and smooth.

This week, the backhoe will finish sculpting our homesite, installing the septic, and laying some water lines. Then there will be some setup before cement pouring, likely next week, which will mark the beginning of earnest home construction.

How to move a farm or at least freak out about it thoroughly

This is a continuation of our ongoing series on the process of moving and growing our farm . To catch up to speed on everything so far, start with Our Kind of Rollercoaster, Why we're doing 2015 the Hard Way, and Pa Builds a Claim Shanty.

There is a terrifying beast looming over me. No, not the crazy line of storms spread from Austin to Indiana, advancing as I write. I'm talking new, unimagined chaos emanating from many shifting arms. A thing with length and breadth unknown that closes in on us with silent, crushing speed. THE FARM MOVE.

Despite the comforting and beautifully organized plan we naively constructed back in February, nothing about the real process has developed in a timely manner. At first, the many incomprehensible layers of paperwork and banking procedures dragged on so painfully.  Work on the cabin could begin in earnest and has since finished quietly while we waited, and still wait for driveway, septic, and footing dirt work to occur. As locals will guess, rain has been the factor. They can move mountains, but backhoes and bulldozers can't stand the rain, and so the carefully mapped out stages of infrastructure, livestock, and people moving have been day-by-day pushed into a very difficult no-mans land of poor timing and mounting challenges. This landscape includes some significant hills: a fresh farrowing cycle begins in 10 days with up to 45 piglets expected, a long planned and now terribly timed weeklong trip away from the farm, and everything is wet, so wet. Just in typing these words I can feel the shifting, stretching to do list whipping at my ankles. Gah!

After a gin and tonic, what to do? First, remap the plan.  Instead of the farrowing village of our dreams, we'll be running another batch through our currently functional but tired setup.  So now, instead of laying out new fences and trailering sow houses, we'll employ our pitchfork skills to re-bed and mulch. Heat lamps need resetting as do the perimeter fences and piglet feeding area. The biggest concern with the farrowing is actually after the fact when we will have to move fragile young families instead of resilient old sows. This will be very slow and require many more trips than originally envisioned. I have trouble wrapping my head around the logistics of this process so it will get filed in the "clarity over time" category.

And the trip away. When a beloved and far flung cousin announced his New York wedding many moons ago we had yet to even hear about the new land and we thought, "Hey! Life is pretty stable these days and we've never taken a family vacation, why not?" So tickets were bought, and then so was a farm. Now the trip is cemented squarely in the gut of the move and making plans to leave the farm with a caretaker in this disheveled state is mind numbing. Of course, it's also thrilling to imagine my barely shod farm girls on the alien planet that is NYC, but does that justify the massive work organizing and simplifying our operation to be left in someone else's hands? There has never been a good time before, so why should it be any different now? 

And the wet. A few years ago, I promised the powers that be that if we could have an inch of rain I would never again complain about too much, a pledge I have dutifully kept. So in the face of flash flooding and fields too slick for wheeled implements, our mantra is "Rain rain, here to stay, thanks for all the grass you make". While I say this to myself again and again, we consider farrowing one of the sows in our driveway since the surrounding hillside is too slick to place the sow house properly. The bedding and mulch will be laboriously brought in by trusty ol' wheelbarrow and muscle power. The chickens roam more and more widely while their trailer waits for a tractor to move it. The recently weaned pigs get extra treats and fresh bedding almost daily to make up for the mud of their training pen. The list goes on, but at least everything is SO GREEN.

There is some consolation in knowing the looming beast can't catch a solid hold of us until we return from our trip in early June. By the time we catch our planes in just under three weeks, farrowing will be behind us, surely we'll have electricity and rudimentary fencing at the new farm, and the quick sand under our feet will have settled just a little. When we come home it will be with fresh eyes and clear minds. I hope.