Livestock Live and in Color

Welcome to the paddock move! As mentioned in an earlier post, the animals are given a set amount of square footage based upon the time of year, the density of forage and the amount of livestock. During the main season they are moved twice a day, every 12 hours, and the paddocks tend to be much smaller. If the paddock is too big, they wont eat all the grass, and thus wont utilize the space well. If it's too small they will not be happy with you, and cows are far from shy about expressing this. It's a difficult balance, but when done correctly can leave a pasture densely fertilized, while encouraging the growth of topsoil as well as the biodiversity of grasses and plants available for them to eat. Through this process, Eric has been able to restore fertility to these once heavily-farmed crop fields, while even bringing back native grasses that have not been seen on the farm for decades. Amazing what an hour of work a day will get you.

One other noteworthy bonus to keeping the cows and lambs together is that they do not share parasites. In fact, the lamb serve as a dead end to cow parasites and visa-versa. Also, the presence of the cows helps protect the sheep from predation. Symbiosis in motion

Darla is the brown one with the horns––rest in peace, my love.

Note: If you listen closely you can hear Eric's call. It's what we use to get their attention, and it works like gangbusters. Guesses as to what it is?

Ist first blaug!

It was about a year ago, almost to the day, that I first met Bugtussle. I flew in from New York, rented a car and drove the 75 miles it is from Nashville to the farm. To my utter amazement, I found the place, then promptly proceeded to destroy my rental car on the road back to the cabin. I'd seen pictures and watched a video about the farm, in an attempt to learn what I could about what I was getting myself into, but only so much about farming can be gleaned from this distance.



It's a ten minute drive from the mailbox to house, that is, if you want your car to survive. On the road back, I passed the skeleton of a high tunnel and a few of the neighbor's cows lounging in the driveway. When I finally arrived, I was greeted by the family I would end up spending the better part of 2010 working alongside. They offered me the internship that next day, and the rest is history, one of which I hope to occasionally cover here.

Yesterday I went back for a visit. I wanted to see the family and the animals and figured I could put in a little work and maybe get a little food out of it. After nine months of naturally-raised vegetables and meat, there is no food that will quite satisfy you the same. I found out my favorite cow died, Darla, love of my life, and my heart broke a little. But death is something you're very intimate with on the farm and life will continue to plug away no matter how sad it renders you. Right now though, it's lambing season, so the life there is even cuter than usual, which helps in the healing process.





I checked in on my musk melon wine, took a sip of maple sap from one of the many jugs hanging on the trees, then ate bacon, sweet potatoes and beans for lunch. When I left, I left with WAY more meat and vegetables than I could possibly eat, including muddy parsnips, leeks, spinach, pork sausage, lamb and pork roasts, kale and eggs, all thanks to the unending generosity of Eric and Cher.

Essentially, with other potent potables, this is my blog––BLAUG!–– as I wish to keep it. It's about farming and about wine and probably occasionally about basketball, but I'll try and be sensitive to the fact that not everyone equates the three. Oh, and I don't speak a lick of german––kein Deutsch––I just like to pretend I do.


Danke,
Fraust