Let's hear it for the chickens

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March 4: four eggs. There are three nests in the henhouse, but they always share and take turns.

My four chickens have averaged slightly better than three eggs a day all winter, and it was a cold winter. Even though it’s still early March, they’re already starting to return to their four-eggs-a-day standard of productivity. They have only ever broken one egg, and that was when they were young and inexperienced. I myself have accidentally broken three or four.

They are content, yet demanding, always hoping for treats, which they get, every day. Sometimes the best I can do is cut up some raw potatoes or carrots, or maybe apples, or pluck the outer leaves from a head of cabbage. Their favorite treats are kitchen scraps — peelings and leftovers. Pasta drives them wild. They seem to think it’s worms. On cold mornings they relish a warm breakfast — cracked grains mixed with leftover gravy or soup. During the summer, finding treats for them is easy because the kitchen always has lots of summer produce. During the winter, treats are more of a challenge. They always have laying mash in their feeder. But it’s treats that keep things interesting.

Newspapers and magazines are full of stories about backyard chickens these days, but here’s one of the best pieces I’ve come across. Peter Lennox, an academic, waxes philosophical on the keeping of chickens:

Watching chickens is a very old human pastime, and the forerunner of psychology, sociology and management theory. Sometimes understanding yourself can be made easier by projection on to others. Watching chickens helps us understand human motivations and interactions, which is doubtless why so many words and phrases in common parlance are redolent of the hen yard: “pecking order”, “cockiness”, “ruffling somebody’s feathers”, “taking somebody under your wing”, “fussing like a mother hen”, “strutting”, a “bantamweight fighter”, “clipping someone’s wings”, “beady eyes”, “chicks”, “to crow”, “to flock”, “get in a flap”, “coming home to roost”, “don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched”, “nest eggs” and “preening”.

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The family cow

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My grandmother Mary Lillian Bowman Dalton with one of her cows, c. 1925, Laurel Fork, Virginia

Yesterday while walking back from the mailbox, I was admiring one of my neighbors’ pastures. It has a good fence and a thick stand of grass ready to turn lush as soon as spring arrives. I realized that, in rural areas like this with a history of family farms, it would be relatively easy to bring back the family cow.

Consider how quickly backyard chickens have come back into fashion. There is even a new bimonthly magazine for backyard chickens. Chickens, of course, require far less infrastructure, less space, and less labor than a cow. But if the day ever comes when we see severe unemployment (meaning that people find themselves at home most of the time) combined with inflation in food prices, I suspect that some hardy rural people who have the pastureland will go back to keeping a cow.

In talking with Ken Ilgunas last weekend about my oath to measure my success here by how effectively I can turn back the clock to 1935, I mentioned how I was the last generation to witness, and, in a child’s way at least, to participate in the operation of family farms. Neither the economics nor the infrastructure of the family farm is mysterious to me. Almost all of my relatives lived on small farms, and some of those farms were in operation before 1900. I have gathered the eggs, seen cows milked, seen butter churned, seen mules pulling plows, unloaded hay, fed and watered the horse, helped with the tobacco crop, and seen the wood cookstoves blazing and steaming while Sunday dinner was cooked. Apart from the land and the infrastructure required for a small farm, it’s a matter of labor. Somebody has to be home all day. A few strong young’uns are an indispensable asset.

Would I like to have a cow? No. I don’t have the pasture space. I’m also content with soybean milk, which I could make for myself if I had to. But cows have an amazing capability that ensures them of a niche in a relocalized economy — they can turn grass into milk.

There’s a lot of material on the Internet about family cows. This is a good place to start.

Solastalgia?

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New York Times

The New York Times Magazine for Sunday has an interesting piece on the developing field of ecopsychology, which explores the ways in which mental processes and mental health are affected by the environment.

Solastaglia is a word for what we experience when we see damage to our world. This experience varies from place to place. But around here, that would be what we experience when we see a beautiful farm we knew as children bulldozed away for a development. Or woods cut down for timber, leaving behind stumps and mud. Or a new road cut through the countryside. It makes us feel sick.

A foodified quandary

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A Walmart avocado

When I lived in San Francisco, shopping at Walmart was unthinkable. All big box stores (or book stores) were scorned for a number of reasons, not least for what has happened to small, neighborhood merchants. But it also was easy to not shop at Walmart in San Francisco. I’d have had to drive way out into the suburbs to get to one, and there were so many other alternatives in the city. Heck, one day when I was in line at Borders book store on Union Square in San Francisco, Armistead Maupin was in the checkout line in front of me. It’s a fair question, and I don’t claim to have an answer: How far should we go to support local businesses when a big business has something better, for cheaper?

If we pay more for something when we could have gotten the same thing cheaper at Walmart, we’re basically making a donation to a business. Is that the best form of charity? I have my doubts.

In any case, here in the rural South, everything is different. There aren’t so many choices. And we don’t have big-city incomes to spend in better stores, even if there were lots of better stores. So I don’t know.

This winter I’ve bought avocados at Walmart, for $.99 to $1.08 each. Every one of them has been good and has ripened beautifully. Should I pay $2.39 each for avocados at a grocery store, half of which rot before they ripen or are stringy and dry?

I buy at Walmart only those things that seriously beat the competition. For another example, Walmart has the best deal in organic, unsweetened soy milk. That’s the best accommodation I’ve been able to come up with so far.

Priddy's store was hopping today…

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Ron Taylor in Priddy’s store with some of his products that Priddy’s sells

Coming home from the post office at Danbury, I stopped at Priddy’s General Store today to pick up a few things. There were a lot of customers, but in between ringing up customers Jane Priddy still found time to talk with me about local issues, as we often do when I’m in the store. We were discussing the local farmers and local products and ways to better connect customers like me with the people who have local produce and products to sell. Jane was telling me about a man in Eastern North Carolina whose business has expanded to help get local products on the market. For example, he produces and cans the sweet potato butter made from the Stokes Purple sweet potatoes.

By the strangest of coincidences, a man in the store who had overheard much of our conversation let us know that he was that very man. He was on a business trip to this part of the state, and he had stopped in to have a look at Priddy’s store, which he had never seen before.

People like Ron Taylor and Jane Priddy are the kind of people who have done much to help rural North Carolina find its way to a new kind of local, sustainable economy. Ron is the president of Taylor Manufacturing, which has made equipment for tobacco farmers for many years but which expanded to make make equipment for winemakers. Ron has also started a vineyard, Lu Mil Vineyard. He served in the state legislature for several years, and he has served on a number of boards having to do with economic development and agricultural tourism.

Ron gave Jane and me bottles of his new muscadine wine. I can’t wait to try it.

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On the left is an alcohol-free juice made from the native muscadine grapes. On the right is a new muscadine wine that Ron is now producing.

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Priddy’s General Store

After Rome fell, brutal hardship

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Hans Holbein the Younger, “Death and the Plough”

Part of getting older, I think, is to increasingly wonder how the world came to be the way we found it. To answer some questions, to try to get to the roots of culture, one must go back a very long time. Just now I’m trying to better understand what happened after the fall of Rome.

Most histories of Rome leave off around 410 A.D., when Alaric I, king of the Visigoths, thoroughly sacked Rome. Or 476 A.D., when the last western emperor was deposed by a Germanic chieftain. What happened then? How did the conditions of medieval Europe unfold out of the ruins of Rome?

I just finished a book on this period. It’s The Fall of Rome and the End of Civilization, by Bryan Ward-Perkins, Oxford University Press, 2005.

With historians, there are trends. For example, a history of Rome written a hundred years ago will probably be an administrative and military history of Rome. The Roman record will be accepted with little challenge and skepticism, and profound questions probably will not be asked.

According to Ward-Perkins, a new trend of Roman histories arose starting around the 1960s. Many historians of that era questioned whether Rome really fell at all. Rather, they saw medieval Europe evolving or “transforming” smoothly and nonviolently into the medieval world. Ward-Perkins does not agree with that view, and the purpose of this book, really, is to challenge that idea.

Ward-Perkins does this partly by invoking the archeological record. Much of this archeological work is new and was not available to earlier historians. It is dull data, but very revealing:

— Coins: How many were found, and when, and where?

— High quality pottery: Who had it, who didn’t and when did it disappear?

— Cattle: How fat were they during the pre-Roman, Roman, and post-Roman eras? (This can be determined from the bones.)

— Tile roofs: Who had them and who didn’t, and when did they disappear?

— Buildings: How big were they, and were they made of timber, or stone?

We know that, by the 6th century, Germanic tribes had moved into the Roman territories and had taken control — the Lombards into Italy, the Franks into northern France, the Saxons into southern and eastern Britain. The Roman army was no more. The Roman administrative system also was dead, the system that had kept the trade routes open, the infrastructure working, and merchandise flowing into the provinces along the Roman roads. The provinces were now on their own, with new Germanic chieftains in control.

Ward-Perkins’ view is that what happened from the 6th to the 8th century was not a smooth “transformation.” It was a catastrophe. The food supply, which had depended on trade and shipping, dropped sharply. In some areas, for lack of food, the population fell by as much as 75 percent. Coins vanished. No one had good Roman pottery anymore. Buildings became small, and they were built of perishable materials like wood and thatch. Cattle, which had been big and fat during the Roman era, became fewer, and skinny. The archeological record shows that people became poor and miserable. There was widespread violence, strife, and crime.

Adaptation to the new conditions was slow. Some technologies that were lost (such as high quality pottery made on a wheel) did not reappear again until centuries later. Food production did not return to Roman levels until centuries later. Literacy collapsed. The security and order that had been maintained by the Roman troops was gone. In Ward-Perkins’ view, what followed the fall of Rome truly was a dark age.

Ward-Perkins elaborates on the price of specialization and complexity in the Roman economy. Even in the more remote provinces such as northern France and Britain, people did not need to produce locally everything that was needed because so much could be bought so cheaply from so far away and brought in over the Roman roads, or by ship. When that was no longer possible, the improverished and now isolated local people found that they no longer had the skills and infrastructure to produce what they needed to maintain anything like their former standard of living. It took centuries to recover those skills. Until those skills were recovered, there was deprivation and misery.

Ward-Perkins does not use the term, but one could say that the Dark Ages were a period of relocalization following the failure of what was, for that time, a globalized economy.

Ward-Perkins writes:

“Comparison with the contemporary western world is obvious and important. … We sit in our tiny productive pigeon-holes … and we are wholly dependent for our needs on thousands, indeed hundreds of thousands, of other people spread around the globe, each doing their own little thing. We would be quite incapable of meeting our needs locally, even in an emergency.

“The enormity of the economic disintegration that occurred at the end of the empire was almost certainly a direct result of this specialization. The post-Roman world reverted to levels of economic simplicity, lower even than those of the pre-Roman times, with little movement of goods, poor housing, and only the most basic of manufactured items. The sophistication of the Roman period, by spreading high-quality goods widely in society, had destroyed the local skills and local networks that, in pre-Roman times, had provided lower-level economic complexity. It took centuries for people in the former empire to reacquire the skills and the regional networks that would take them back to these pre-Roman levels of sophistication.”

That, I believe, is stuff worth thinking about.

The hens won't quit

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My best layer

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December 16: 3 eggs

My four hens have barely slowed down for the winter. I’m still getting three and sometimes four eggs a day, faster than I can give them away, since I try to limit myself to eating four eggs a week.

I have one Golden Comet hen and three Barred Rock hens. I can recognize my Golden Comet hen’s eggs because they’re darker brown. She has not missed a day since she first started laying in August. She’s also the sweetest and most sociable of the chickens.

I am not giving my hens any artificial light or artificial heat. I’ve bought the apparatus to do it if they seem stressed by the cold, but so far they seem fine. These chickens are said to be hardy enough for New England winters. Their little house is snug and filled with hay. I also put hay on the ground underneath the chicken house to help keep their little feet off the cold ground. The chickens do seem to be eating more in cold weather. They always have laying mash available, and I take them some kind of treats every day — vegetable scraps from the kitchen, leftover gravy mixed with cracked wheat, and sometimes sprouted legumes. Nothing goes to waste in the kitchen. Every day I also give them alfalfa pellets that I got at the seed and feed store. The pellets contain nothing but ground, compressed alfalfa and cost $16 for 50 pounds. That was the best winter source of chlorophyll that I was able to come up with. I keep ground oyster shells on hand. I also have a big bag of flax seed. I try to vary their diet as much as possible, not only for their health, but for their entertainment. Treat time is the high spot of their day.

One thing I’ve noticed about my chickens. When they were maturing and approaching laying age, they spatted fairly often. Now I never see one chicken being mean to another chicken. I assume this means that they’ve worked out the pecking order, and now they just enjoy each other’s company. If I take them particularly exciting treats (they love leftover pasta — they probably think it’s worms) one chicken may grab the treat and run, but they don’t spat.

Ruralpolitans?

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Wall Street Journal

I have often wondered why we weren’t seeing more signs of a dropout movement, or a back-to-the-land movement, during this economic downturn. Maybe it’s happening. The Wall Street Journal had a piece this week about migration to rural areas, calling these back-to-the-landers “ruralpolitans.” It’s a rational thing to do. And yes, having the Internet makes it easier and diminishes the feeling of isolation.

Persimmons

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The diameter of this persimmon is a little bigger than a quarter.

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Persimmon trees can hide at the edge of the woods during the spring and summer. But in the fall when they’re loaded with fruit, they might as well be flashing with Christmas tree lights. I discovered this persimmon tree on the edge of my woods. I had not noticed it until a couple of weeks ago.

I’m not certain, but I believe that the big, hard, acorn-shaped persimmons that are grown commercially in California are Asian persimmons. Whereas the persimmons that grow wild here in the North Carolina Piedmont and the Blue Ridge foothills are the American persimmon.

What are they good for, you ask. Pudding! I hope to gather enough persimmons to make a pudding before the season is over. If I succeed, I’ll post some photos.

The native persimmons are not fit to eat until they fall from the tree, ripe. Before they are ripe they are unbearably astringent. October frosts can quicken the ripening. But after they fall to the ground, you’ve got to get to them before the wildlife do. There are so many hungry mouths around here.