The Appeal of Gardening

Fifty-one broiler chicks arrived this morning. We are excited about these chicks! Last year, and in Boulder, we raised batches of the industry standard meat bird, the Cornish Cross. In Boulder, we figured they were stinky because we didn't have organic, soy-free feed.

Last year, with better feed, the birds continued stinky, stinky in a way that our egg-layers never were.

Add to the smell, we aren't thrilled with their complete unnaturalness. No longer able to breed naturally (the heavy breasts make the males too weighed down to mount the ladies), these birds could not exist except for artificial insemination in hatcheries. And while the heavy breasts do provide a lot of eating, I'm not convinced the chicken flavor is as good as it could be: the mixed-breed babies we killed in the fall were, I think tastier.

Enter the Freedom Ranger chicks. Raised in France, as part of the prestigious Label Rouge/Red Label brand, I have read that these birds sell for $20+ per bird off the supermarket shelves. Although they will grow to size in about 12 weeks, instead of the industry 8 (or less), we're hopeful that the flavor, forage ability, and (we hope!) lack of stinkiness will more than make up for the (potential) increase in feed costs.

And, certainly, it's good to do what you love, and we DON'T love Cornish Crosses!

As a sweet side note: I noticed on the packing label that the hatchery included a verse:

Jesus said, I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. John 10:10

I so appreciate that agriculturalists broadcast their faith, more than any other industry I know. Maybe being around life and death makes faith and design seem more immediate, and so to talk about it seems less embarrassing? I don't know. I do like it, though; this one felt like a little hug.

(I'll be curious to see whether they are hardier, too. We have yet to keep alive more than half our chicks until slaughter day. It could be that the industry birds are simply not able to withstand non-industry farms very well. Between the Leghorns and Barred Rock chicks, we've had three Leghorns expire now, and no Barred Rocks. The Rocks wander a bit, and the Leghorns stay under the heat lamp. Interesting to watch.)

Phil, after burning the candle at both ends and physically taking himself to the limits, was sick in bed all day. Sometimes I think sickness is a chance for the body to say, "STOP AND REST," and so, although he took some homeopathics, I really think sleep is what he needs.

With the heifers separated from Bianca, I milked her twice today. She continues bawling: her calf, out of sight but not out of earshot, bawls back. After four months or so without milking, on a meager hay and kelp diet, I didn't really expect to get any milk, so I was pleased that she gave about four cups per milking.

I was pleased, too, that she let me catch her, and obediently moved around so that she was properly against the fence.

I was not pleased to feel her udder. I think calf nursing must be hard on the teats: the four soft, pliable teats I milked in the fall feel thick and coarse in my hands. Two teats have scabs. Without moisturizer, I'm sure the wet-dry-wet milking through the winter must have been painful at times. Nurturing is costly, apparently, even in the animal world.

Snowman stuck close to us. He's a personable bull. I don't pet him, as that would be presumptuous (and if he needs loving, he has Bianca!), and when I offered him aloe pellets yesterday, he turned and walked away, the rascal! I like him.

Watching the rhubarb seeds push up into the air, and some of the tomato seeds send out rootlets, I realized what it is I most like about gardening: it's good for impatient people! I had expected gardening to teach me about patience: seeding flats of 300 seeds isn't exactly a thrill a minute. But with seeding, there is challenge: is it faster to use my fingers or the little seed tapper-outer? Can I be both accurate and (somewhat) swift? It's much more fun than I ever expected.

Watering, too, is a chance to check up on all the little seedlings. My squirt bottles keep getting clogged, almost the first day, so I have been dribbling water over the seeds. That can be tricky: will the seeds all float away and be lost forever? How are the little babies growing?

But mostly, I like the growing. I like that a seed that was dormant yesterday shows signs of life today, and that tomorrow there may be a little green poking up.

With cows, we wait nine months for a baby to be born. With seeds, it may be less than a week.

And that is fun for an impatient person like me.