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Peering Down the Barrel with Sleep Filled Eyes

(Lew kicks off our 2012 blogging season with one of his "True Farm Stories.")

 

Whenever we are showing folks around the farm or giving a tour explaining how we grow chicken, I am almost always asked the following, “Do you have any problem with predators eating your chickens?”  I used to give a nice, politically correct, unemotional response and control the emotions boiling over as images of wily, nasty predators attacking my defenseless birds came to mind.  The past year I decided to just tell folks plainly how it was.  Why should we try to give the predators a pass?  I have no problems with predators and fully understand their integral role in maintaining a bio-diverse farm.  However, when an individual decides to cross the line, action must be taken.  Last night was such a night.

With only one full day left until we “dress” (or more appropriately “undress”) the year’s first batch of broilers, anticipation was mounting.  Usually the first batch of broilers grows a little slower, and these boys and girls were no exception.  They had been a very good group to raise, with almost no culls or deaths to speak of which, is really something given the number of chickens we are raising.  Unlike the chicken purchased at a grocery store—organic or conventional, “free range” (Ha!) or confined—our birds are truly free to roam around the pasture we give them, which may be as small as a ¼ acre or as large as 5+ acres. It really depends on whether we are trying to fertilize an area for a future crop or have them out on bug control in an orchard.  Either way, I generally am probably guilty of allowing our birds too much room to roam, and consequently they grow a little slower.  I am willing to sacrifice the extra time and effort to grow an animal if it produces a superior product, which I am confident these are.  The downside about letting a big, white, clumsy bird out on pasture is that they make excellent targets for even the most unlikely of predators.  This year had been quiet on the predator front, with only a couple layers getting hit before we moved one of our Great Pyrenees, Isis, closer to them.  (That reminds me, in the future we will have to write more about our two big dogs and, hopefully, the progress we are making at training them to protect our chicken flocks.)  

Anyway, with both dogs stationed at distant posts on the farm, we elected to keep our broiler flock near the house so we could monitor them closely.  A little after midnight last night I awoke from a dream.  In fact, I believe I politely excused myself from the conversation I was having in the dream so I could go check the chickens.  It is unusual for me to wake up at all at night; I am a really heavy sleeper.  Amber wakes up to every sound especially if it’s Lena or Griff.  [True story: I once refused to wake up at a hotel when the fire alarm had been sounding for several minutes, Amber pleading with me to get up.  I vaguely remember it, but apparently I got up, walked out in the hallway (in only my underwear), walked back over to the window and looked down at the gathering crowd of panicked people and confidently declared to Amber to go back to bed as there was no fire.  Turns out it was a group of drunk Marines who decided it would be fun to pull the fire alarm.] Anyway, last night I laid quietly in bed and heard our other dog, Steel, going crazy and then the horrified screech of a chicken being chased.  After running into the closed door of our bedroom and making a considerable amount of commotion, I pulled my boots on (wrong feet of course) and grabbed my trusty shotgun and a flashlight and ran like some sort of half-drunk ape, my body still mostly asleep and refusing to function.  Fortunately the chickens are within 100 yards of our house, and as I slowed to scan with my flashlight I suddenly caught the shine of eyeballs staring at me.  

I have shot many animals protecting our chickens before, but there is always a moment (for me at least), right when I first catch sight of the predator, when I realize that without my firearm and flashlight, I am absolutely powerless, especially if the startled critter happens to be large.  It is then, with my mind racing, that I always am thankful it is dark out and nobody else is around to witness how ridiculous I must look with an embarrassing pair of old shorts and my still asleep legs carrying me as fast as I dare crawling through the brush and trees.  Fortunately for me and my family, those shining eyeballs didn’t belong to a skunk (always a rather difficult problem).  This time, staring back at me and hissing a demonic sounding hiss that appeared to come from deep within the critter’s innards, was an ugly possum.  As he hissed at me and displayed his formidable teeth, my mind began racing through all the steps of identifying and properly engaging a target that were so deeply instilled in me thanks to the caring boot heel of my drill instructor a decade ago on Parris Island.  Everything was fine except that my still sleepy arms couldn’t manage to coordinate the flashlight and the shotgun at the same time.  Fortunately the male possum was more interested in proving how tough he was and never moved while I got my act together.  One well placed shot later the threat was eliminated and I could begin surveying the damage.  Much to my surprise and amazement, other than chasing 3 chickens out of the shelter, there were no injured chickens.  

“Why,” you may be wondering, “would you tell this story?”   I guess because many folks are always wondering what life is like on a modern, small, diverse farm like ours, and this is just one of the hundreds of unplanned “jobs” that need to be done on the farm.  Living at your job has its rewards as well as its occasional drawbacks.  This story had a happy ending (except for the possum), but this is not always the case.  The threat from predators is one of the biggest risks we face when we choose to give our chickens the freedom to roam and act like chickens.  I have seen birds raised in confinement; they never get attacked by possums, fox, hawks, or marauding dogs.  But if they could choose, I am certain that most chickens (if not all!) would take the risks associated with the freedom we provide over the cramped, dusty, dirty sheds of a confinement system.  There is no perfect system; they all have risks.  In the quest to eliminate the threat of predators, and make feeding easier for the farmer, most farms have chosen to confine tens of thousands of birds instead of raising small flocks on appropriate pastures.  But take heart!  As more folks become aware of the risks and hidden costs of the conventional taxpayer-subsidized food system, more small farms like ours are striving to keep up with the demand.  Even when it means ridiculous men in shorts battling possums on another sleep-deprived night!

Lots and lots of blueberries!

It's a pretty common occurrence around the farm to get some dirt under our fingernails, but we know it's late July when our fingers start looking a little blue.  And yep, you guessed it, the blueberry harvest is coming in fast and heavy, and there are a lot of blue fingers around Miller's Orchards these days!

Thanks to the hot humid weather the Northeast PA region endured the past several weeks, the blueberry bushes have producing an extraordinary harvest.  Momma and Amber (and, of course, lil Lena Mae) have been picking as fast as their little fingers can go, and there're still more berries ripening every afternoon in the hot sunshine!  The bakery has been churning out the area's tastiest blueberry pies, and there are STILL lots of blueberries left over!

So what do a bunch of farmers do when they've got a fabulous blueberry harvest?  Why, host a Blueberry Festival, of course!  That's right--on Saturday August 6th from 12 p.m. to 5 p.m., stop by the Farm for a celebration of Blueberries!  There will be Blueberry picking (if you want to take some home, you can pay by the pound in the Farm Market), Blueberry-themed goodies for sale to eat-in or take home, and even two Farm Tours (at 2 p.m. and 4 p.m.)  Admission to the Farm is free--so take advantage of a chance to meet the family, pick some blueberries, eat some yumminess, and visit with the pigs, chickens, pumpkins, and orchards. 

We can't wait to celebrate one of the world's few naturally blue foods with you!  Don't miss out on the fun!

From the bottom of my blueberry-stained heart, I remain,
Delana (for Your Farmers @ Miller's Orchards)