We’re Connected! High-Speed, Low-Latency Satellite Internet on the Farm

When I first moved out to the farm two years ago, Jen warned me.

“I know you’re online a lot, so I got internet (rhymes with Blues Net) but it’s not very fast,” she told me. “Unfortunately it’s the only service I could get at our location.”

This wasn’t a big surprise to me - I’d seen the majority of “blues net” dishes that dotted the majority of small farms and rural residences directly outside of Winlock. I knew what I was in for. We could get “online” but the latency issues that go hand-in-hand with traditional geostationary satellites that orbit the earth at 35,785 km were to be expected. There would be no streaming, zooming, or any other high data rate activities going on here at PEF.

What I didn’t understand was why internet service providers in the area drew the line so many miles outside of “town” and wouldn’t service everyone that wanted service (and was willing to pay for it). I won’t get into the politics of why it’s been so difficult to make sure everyone who wants internet can get it, but it’s been frustrating.

After six months or so on the waiting list, we finally got the notification that Starlink was available in our area. I’m not clear on why we can’t get Elon Musk to pay his taxes, but right now I’m glad he’s got enough expendable cash to send rockets into space and launch satellites at will. I know - it sounds made up, and if I weren’t here to experience the blazing fast speed (thanks to low-orbiting satellites) I’d call you a liar, too.

The technology is fascinating and the equipment, bought and paid for, belongs to us forever. No monthly leasing fees or contracts, just super fast, reliable internet.

Now before you ask, “When do farmers have time to cruise the web?” Well, I work a lot from home so having reliable internet is important for me, and the farm is in a bit of a hollow and so cell service is one tiny bar but only if you stand by the sink. Also, Jen has to feed a growing DIY Tik Tok addiction. Also, none-yo-biznass.

Set up is insanely simple. You download the Starlink app, connect the dish to the router, then point it at the sky. Follow the prompts on the app and the thing sets itself up all by itself. No yelling at partner from inside the house to “turn it a smidge to the left!”. The dish finds the satellite all by itself, thank you very much.

Please don’t make fun of our temporary set-up … yes, our dish is on a table. But we just needed to get it up and running before we decided where to give it a permanent home, so this is our setup for now.

We’re not complaining.

We gotta go put the birds to bed, pop some corn, and binge the first few episodes of House of the Dragon.

What Am I Doing Here?

I know I am not alone in asking myself this question. Anyone who breathes air has asked themselves this any number of times throughout the various stages of their lives but lately I’ve been asking myself this not as the great existential question, but as a bit of a mental house cleaning and preparatory question for the start of a new and fresh year. In addition, another question has been surfacing a lot in recent months (ok, years) that I have been doing a rather decent job of ignoring, but will not seem to be banished completely. Am I a farmer? And why do I feel the need to own that title?

When I bought the farm in 2017, I was green. I knew that I was in love with the work of farming and the challenges of animal husbandry. I was committed to no time off, no vacations, no trips to the coast or weekends of rest, but I did not realize the work that would come before I could get to the work I loved. I didn’t anticipate that I would spend two years just cleaning up the place and making (expensive) lists of needed household repairs and then realizing those lists were woefully inadequate and would need constant and interminable revising. 

I didn’t realize how much I would need to learn not just about apiaries, sow gestation, tom turkey rivalries and electric fence hazards; but about farm truck transmissions, well pumps, broken frost free pipes, electrical wiring, water heaters, tree felling, pump house construction, water lines, trenching, siding installation, wood shed design, roof leaks, and how long it takes to make a 1100 sq. foot house a consistently dry and warm place to live. 

So in the past four years, while I have been laboring to repair and maintain a house, remove rotting outbuildings and trying to create a workable and sustainable infrastructure for good animal husbandry, I keep hearing the question arise in my brain. Am I a farmer? Because I’m not growing anything but a rather small kitchen garden. I’m not raising my own grain or even growing fields of waving ANYTHING. I don’t even have a green house. I have no feed storage bins. My tractor has no implements. My poultry live in a converted and very leaky hay barn that needs burning to the ground. My property has no fencing. After a day job, school in the evenings (I’m studying to be a paralegal, which is really taking away from the farm dream but we’ll save that for another post), and all of the necessary repairs and cleaning the property has required, my meager contributions to “farming” have been ridding my pastures of invasive weeds, improving the quality of native grasses and forage for future ruminants, and frost seeding clover and other legumes. 

Which brings me back to the question of what am I doing here? This is not the work I imagined. And if I spend five minutes on Instagram I’m flooded with images of “check out my cool new microgreen tray cleaning station!” and “another batch of piglets being born in three weeks!” or “time to start more seedlings in the greenhouse for spring transplanting!”. In short, I feel like I am falling behind. Behind on being able to call myself a farmer. 

This has required some disciplined quiet introspection and forced honesty on my part but what I have concluded is that perhaps I have wanted the title of “farmer” because it puts my life and its work into a simple category that makes sense to me and maybe to others. It gives me an identity that I want others to see. It is how I want others to view me. I know we all seek approval from others and it can be hard to find our own identity without fear of what others will think. But when I realized that I was worrying about “keeping up” so others will deem me worthy of the title “famer”, I felt this sense of relief suddenly arrive. A realization that I do not have to keep up. There is no one out there with a scorecard watching my every failure and shaking their head at how clumsy I am at insulating pipes or fixing a mower blade. Chances are there isn’t anyone even reading this post! It’s really just me.

So perhaps what I am doing here is just being me. I’m being a good steward of the land. A protector. A caregiver. I give care to the land so it will care for me in return. I nurture it and think of its needs before my own. And by doing that I not only make this little plot of ground my own while I am here, but in return it sustains me and brings me joy. It reminds me to live in the present moment and that life will end at some unforeseen point in the future no matter what I do or what title I give myself or hope others will give me. Maybe I am not a farmer. But I’m alive. And I’m doing my best to make my little corner of the world a better place. Farmer or not.

Addendum …

So the past two weeks have been a rather condensed series of household and property debacles that have led to a few epiphanies that I thought were worth tacking on to the end of this post. Last week the farm got a serious helping of snow, which made for a lovely white Christmas but was then followed by several days of freezing temperatures that made hauling wood, feeding poultry, and getting to and from my day job a special challenge. 

The pipes froze, the bathroom flooded, my steep gravel driveway turned into a solid sheet of ice that required 4 wheel drive and nerves of steel to navigate, the outside pipe on the wood stove clogged and wouldn’t draw air, and then the rain started. It rained. And it rained. And it rained, until the rivers flooded their banks, the freeways closed, and travel anywhere local was a rotten impossible mess. During which the gray water pipe in the house backed up and refused to drain water anywhere but onto my kitchen floor. (Which is still plywood if anyone is taking notes). In short, I’ve spent every day of the last two weeks problem solving and trying desperately to tell myself that this is all coincidence and part of home ownership and that I AM NOT BEING PUNISHED. But after spending more time under the house than in it, countless sleepless nights wondering what will go wrong next and how I’ll manage it, it is increasingly hard not to wish all of these problems away. I tell myself that if I can just get through this phase of reconstruction and repair, I’ll get to start farming and living my REAL life and I’ll finally be happy. This is where the epiphanies come in. 

As I’m crawling on my belly under the house dragging pipe insulation behind me and whispering under my breath “just keep swimming, just keep swimming” I realized that this is it. THIS IS MY LIFE. I’m not waiting for happiness or the “real business of farming” to begin. It is already here. I’m living it now. Some days I won’t have running water. Maybe I’ll never have a finished floor. I’ve signed up for a life of endless projects and problems to solve and that isn’t going to change. So if I’m going to be happy, my mindset will have to change. Which is another fun project that along with everything else, makes me farmer. Not later when I’ve got things planned out and I’m breeding birds and moving electric fence, but right now when everything is a mess and I’m cold and nothing works. I’m a farmer right now.

Should Eggs Be a Seasonal Ingredient?

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve probably noticed people care more and more about eating healthier, and fostering food systems that are ethical and sustainable. With the rise in popularity of farmers markets and local CSAs, it’s easy to recognize and adopt the benefits of eating foods when they’re “in season.” It’s more sustainable on a lot of levels: more natural and beneficial farming practices, a smaller carbon footprint, and the food just tastes better when it’s fresh off the local farm.

But should that mindset apply to the eggs we eat? Should eggs be seasonal? Are any of us even aware that egg laying has a season? Because it does.

If you have a few chickens in the back yard, or you’re new to poultry farming and have noticed a sharp decline in your flock’s laying production as it’s gotten colder, you’re not alone. Many poultry farmers in the Pacific Northwest struggle with chicken egg production in the winter months as the amount of natural daylight hours decreases. As a result of this decrease and the need to meet the demands of production, the use of artificial light in hen houses or confinement cages is common. I’m doubtful many (if any) consumers are aware of this, but exposure to this artificial light and the “forced” aspect of production is harmful to the birds on many levels, and if good husbandry and the well being of birds is a priority on your farm, it’s usage should be carefully considered.

Here’s the scientific nuts and bolts of it: the chicken egg laying cycle is directly affected by a hormonal response to light and as a result, farmers will see a drop in the production of eggs as the days shorten and the hens are exposed to increasingly long hours of darkness. To combat this, many farmers will use artificial illumination in their hen houses to stimulate production and egg-laying behavior.

When it gets dark at 4:30pm, these chickens can be “encouraged” to lay longer into the night when an artificial light is introduced into the hen house.

According to a study by Lingbin Liu, concentrations of the hormones required for egg production were found to be increased in birds exposed to artificial light, and egg laying rates increased along with egg size. We know that artificial light works to produce more eggs, especially over the winter months, but is it really all that harmful to the bird and ultimately the egg that consumers then eat? Studies show that it is indeed harmful to both.

Hens typically begin laying when the amount of daylight hours reaches 14 hours a day during early spring with maximum egg laying when day length reaches 16 hours per day. On a typical fall day in mid-November, a Pacific Northwest farmer can expect only roughly 9 hours of daylight, with that amount decreasing through the winter to about 8.5 hours, accounting for a severe decrease and sometimes complete dearth of egg production. While studies have shown that the implementation of artificial light works to “trick” the laying hen’s endocrine system into keeping the egg production engine running, there is evidence to show that there is a reason why chickens naturally need to rest during the winter and that the interruption of this natural cycle is harmful to the birds on several levels.

One such concern is the increased risk of vent prolapse. The vent is the muscular tube that the egg passes through as it exits the hen. When the vent muscles become weak from overuse, the vent pops out but does not return to its proper position. Vent prolapse can lead to infection and death. Another unfortunate but very real possibility is the increase of pecking and cannibalistic behavior that can occur with vent prolapse. Other birds in the flock can become fixated on pecking at a prolapsed vent leading to increased injury and even disembowelment of the unfortunate hen.

Another health problem observed in birds that do not get the benefit of natural circadian rhythm is the increased risk of ovarian cancer. According to another study, the more eggs they lay, the higher the risk of cancer. Cancer will of course lead to reduced life span and overall fewer eggs produced for the farmer and the consumer.

An additional health issue is a severe infection called egg yolk peritonitis. This occurs when a “mistake” is made by the bird’s reproductive system and the egg exits the ovary but misses the lip of the infundibulum and enters the hens’ abdomen instead. This causes an infection in the abdomen and leads to death. Without the rest from egg laying that comes with shorter winter days the chance that this mistake of the reproductive system will occur rises.

While all of the previously mentioned issues directly affect the laying hens lack of much needed rest, this forced laying cycle can also directly affect the egg that we eat and subsequently the health of those that consume eggs from these hens. In a study completed by H. Paczoska-Eliasiewicz in 1998, it was found that there was an “increase of histamine production and concentration in chicken oviduct parts during the egg-laying cycle”. This histamine is passed through the shell and into the egg eaten by the consumer. According to a recent article in Medical News Today, increased histamine levels in the body can lead to “diarrhea, headaches, bloating, abdominal pain, nausea, flushing of the head and chest, congestion, dizziness, heart palpitations, low blood pressure, bronchospasms, and even shock”. (Huizen, 2021, p2).

Secondary molt in the cold winter months should also be a concern. Birds lose their feathers and regrow them over a period of several weeks, typically in early fall just as the daylight hours begin to shorten. With the use of artificial light, the molting cycle can be interrupted, and if the artificial light system fails, even for a short period of time, this can cause a secondary molt to occur. If this happens in the cold of winter, the risk of death due to exposure rises.

If the goal of the farm and the food system is production above all other concerns, the question of artificial light use in poultry houses may be moot. But if the goal is healthy animals that produce healthy food that lead to healthier humans, studies show that artificial light should not be used. The “rest period” for birds has a purpose and when that period of rest is removed, we compromise the health of the bird and the product sold to consumers.

It’s hard to improve on nature - the natural cycle of rest for birds protects their health, longevity, and is perfectly designed so that chicks hatch in spring and develop and mature during the warmer summer months. The quality of the egg produced and the quality of the life of the hen all depends on an unforced cycled of egg laying and the discontinuation of the use of artificial light in hen houses.

So do we lay off chicken egg consumption during the winter months? An argument could be made about us humans sucking it up and doing without instead of constantly demanding what we want, when we want it. There are some amazing plant-based egg alternatives being introduced into the market which might afford us the opportunity to have our cake and eat it, too.

At the end of the day—however early that might be—if we truly care about the welfare of our food makers and the quality of the food we’re consuming, it’s a conversation worth having.

Resources for this blog post:

Liu, L., Li, D., Gilbert, E. R., Xiao, Q., Zhao, X., Wang, Y., Yin, H., & Zhu, Q. (2015). Effect of Monochromatic Light on Expression of Estrogen Receptor (ER) and Progesterone Receptor (PR) in Ovarian Follicles of Chicken. PLoS ONE, 10(12), 1–14. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0144102

Ockert, Katie. (2019). Decreasing Daylight and Its Effect on Laying Hens. Michigan State University Extension, 14(1-3). https://www.canr.msu.edu/news/decreasing-daylight-and-its-effect-on-laying-hens

Adekokum, S, Olojede, O. (2018) Optimizing Gastrointestinal Integrity in Poultry: The Role of Nutrients and Feed Additives. Frontiers in Veterinary Science 5, 1-2. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6366008/

Lesley, C. (2021, April 20). Keeping Chickens Laying During the Winter: The beginner's guide.   Chickens And More. Retrieved November 24, 2021, from https://www.chickensandmore.com/keeping-chickens-laying-during-winter/.

Paczoska-Eliasiewicz, H., Rzasa, J., & Mika, M. (1998). Changes of Histamine Concentration in Chicken Oviduct During the Egg-Laying Cycle. Journal of Veterinary Medicine Series A, 45(2), 69. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1439-0442.1998.tb00802.x

Soil Has Soul

“Whether you’re a meat-eater or choose to embrace a plant-based diet, at the end of the day, everyone needs topsoil.”

— Quote Source

If you live rurally, and especially if you’re in farm country, you’re bound to see tractors out tilling the fields this time of year, readying it for spring planting. 

The telltale cloud of dust you see in the air is probably familiar, but what you may not know is that that cloud is precious topsoil being disturbed and it unfortunately signals the destruction of the soil’s tilth.  Tilth is the soul of soil. It’s basically the condition of tilled soil, especially in respect to suitability for sowing seeds. 

Did you know that soil is alive? 

Healthy soil has layers that are built naturally over many seasons. It’s made up of falling leaves, animal droppings, and bug and earthworm activity. The “top” soil is where we plant and grow our food. The healthier that soil is, the better our food quality.

Living soil creates its own nitrogen and phosphorus, which it needs to thrive and grow food. When we till (and destroy the topsoil) we are actually killing what gives us life. 

Let me pause here and say that this is NOT an attack on farmers who till. I am a farmer. I realize and recognize the challenges. Today’s farmers are tasked with producing massive amounts of food for an ever-diminishing profit. This is simply a request to consider what's (or who’s) actually behind large scale farming and why they’ve made it difficult for farmers to feel they have any other options.

In modern agriculture and large scale farming, tilling and monocropping (planting the same crop year after year, on the same land, in the absence of rotation through other crops) thousands of acres of gmo seed have become the norm. It’s what we’re told is the most efficient way to grow enough food for our ever increasing population. We’ve been taught that the synthetic fertilizer we’re dumping into our soil (and ultimately our food), because the tilth has been depleted from monocropping, is a necessary means to an end.

It might be efficient in the moment, and it might make farming easier than it used to be, but it’s not sustainable in the long run.

The vast scale of farming today puts us all at risk. It does so in a lot of ways:

• By landing farmers in millions of dollars of debt to obtain the machinery they need to destroy the soil we rely on for food

• By the gmo seed that is manufactured by just one or two huge companies (we’ll flesh this out later - but basically, we’re entrusting pretty much ALL of our food that comes from seed to one, large company)

• By incentivizing farmers (with cold, hard cash) to use the synthetic fertilizer they pour onto the soil that inevitably makes its way into our rivers and oceans, killing our sea life and causing an overgrowth of algae and plants which are causing problems we are only beginning to understand. 

• It demeans the animals we eat for food by crowding them into filthy lots that make them (and us) sick, which then pollutes our groundwater with concentrations of manure. 

Whatever you believe about plant-based diets vs. meat-based diets, we ALL eat, and with the disrespect for what feeds us and the medium in which it grows, we are throwing away our health, and our ability to feed ourselves in the long run. 

So where do we go from here? Is there a more sustainable solution? Sustainable solutions are out there, but they’re rarely popular - especially if there’s money to be made, or a corner to be cut ...

The solution is a return to small farming and more farmers. We need more small farms to support communities, and we need communities to support their small farms. 

When we farm on a smaller scale we eliminate the need for tilling, expensive farm machinery, and the burden of debt for farmers. Small farmers are able to save their own seed, preserve the tilth of soil, and return to being stewards of the land.  

Small farmers raise fewer animals in more space when they allow the animals to go to their feed, instead of bringing what they naturally would graze on in open fields to them on a feedlot. They spread their manure as they go, fertilizing pastures and improving soil tilth. 

We can't win by domination, but everyone can help make small farming a possibility by looking for opportunities to support any local, small farm. It will mean giving up the instant gratification (tomatoes in winter, anyone?) we have been told is our right, and instead choosing long term benefits. 

Buy from your local farmers whenever you can. Don't eat out-of-season produce or produce that is shipped from outside of your county. No matter where you live, city or country, there is a small farmer near you that needs your help. And now you know you need theirs, too. 

Fall Cover Crop

A lot has happened in the past four years here on the farm. It’s taken pretty much all of that to get the property cleaned of old debris and trash, and to get the little farm house I live in habitable. I’m incredibly proud of how far we’ve come … but there are still so many big jobs to tackle before I can move forward with plans to raise birds and grow crops.

I managed to once again sell my White Holland turkeys for Thanksgiving, but I’ve promised myself that this next year will be an off-year so I can focus on the farmhouse and basic farm infrastructure. 2021 will be a bit different with fewer animals to tend to, but I’ve determined it’s what’s really necessary in order to move forward productively.

So the birds have been processed and enjoyed on holiday tables, and winter is just around the corner, which means things are slowing down, but there’s still a little bit of activity going on in the garden.

As a small farmer, I love to plant a cover crop for so many reasons. Admittedly, I’m a beginner, and I have very few mechanized tools to do heavy lifting, so much of my farming is done by hand. That includes moving stock, hauling feed and hay, and managing my kitchen garden.

Planting a fall cover crop is a great way to improve my garden’s soil tilth and fertility without having to haul and spread manure, then cover it with hay. While a manure and straw cover IS a great option, it’s a lot of back-breaking labor when your only tools are a wheelbarrow, a shovel, and your hands. 

One of the most important things we can do for our soil is to allow it rest and regenerate over the winter, but leaving it bare can cause problems. The heavy rainfall of the Pacific Northwest can leach soil of nutrients, healthy bacteria, and beneficial ingredients like lime that help support healthy plants and a hospitable home for the insects and earthworms. A cover crop will prevent a lot of this damage. 

After the last of the fall harvest has been removed from the garden, we are often left with bare soil that is especially vulnerable to leaching, erosion by rain and wind, and loss of topsoil over the wet winter months - not to mention a serious invasion of weeds. There are several options for covering your soil and all of them work: layers of burlap bags, manure and straw, a plain heavy layer of JUST straw or any kind of plant mulch. But my favorite option is a hand-sewn cover crop.

I good cover crop should be composed of nitrogen-fixating plants like peas, vetch, winter wheat, clover, soybeans, alfalfa, or peanuts. These plants all prefer cooler weather to germinate and not only do the roots hold the soil in place during wet and windy weather, but the nodules on their root systems contain symbiotic rhizobia bacteria that produce nitrogen. When these plants are mowed down or clipped in the spring, the fixed nitrogen in their roots is released and helps to fertilize the soil and feed the new round of crops planted for the spring and summer. It’s a serious win-win.

When sewn in the fall after your last harvest, the frost helps work the seed into the ground where it can germinate and grow all winter long. Most feed/garden stores will carry a cover crop blend but if not, you can plant a single variety of legume or make your own blend - there are no rules :)

Breeding our Turkeys

As many of you know, this will be my first season raising turkeys for breeding stock, which means I’ll only be processing a few bird for a few very special farm supporters this Thanksgiving season - you know who you are! We apologize for not offering turkeys this year, but we hope you’ll appreciate our goal to raise our own turkeys here on the farm which will make them that much better!

*If you’d like to check out the turkey-ordering process, you can click here for 2018 information so you know what to expect for 2020.

The reason for our turkey-break is that I’ll be over-wintering the rest of the birds we raised this year in the hopes that my hens will breed and lay eggs in the spring. This helps us reduce the cost of purchasing new stock and the poult loss that often happens due to the stress of shipping and not having a mama bird to raise them.

I’m so excited to start this new phase of turkey farming! The first challenge has been creating a nest that my hens might enjoy. Turkey hens are notorious for being picky layers. The spot must be just right.

I found a few ideas that involved building huts with wood but I’m short on power tools here on the farm, so here is what I came up with: a Rubbermaid tote, a sharp knife, and some serious elbow grease (not recommended for those of us with no medical insurance and no hospital access within 20 miles - but what’s life without a little risk?).

I’ll post again soon and let you know if mama turkeys approve!

Planning for Spring in the Dead of Winter

Happy New Year from the farm!

With the onset of winter weather and so much that had to happen to get the first flock of turkeys processed and delivered, I've taken a bit of a rest from updating all of you on how things are going here at Pasture Expectations.

This first year of raising birds on pasture was the best learning experience I've ever had. I made so many mistakes,and the fact that I can embrace that and learn from them is a HUGE step for me as a person and as a new farmer. I truly feel that I gave the birds a fabulous quality of life and a humane, peaceful death, and that I delivered a quality product — but I'm certainly hoping to make some improvements in the new year.

The pigs were also a super fun experience that I plan to continue. For those of you that followed the adventure out here last year, you'll recall that I raised kune kune pigs and absolutely loved them. They were sweet, easy to contain, and the meat was absolutely delicious.

This year I was really hoping to raise another heritage breed pig called the Red Wattle, but finding a source for weaner pigs (young pigs recently separated from the sow) in Washington or Oregon has been nearly impossible. I've emailed every farmer I could find with ANY history of Red Wattle sales or breeding and while all of them were kind and supportive and spoke extremely highly of the breed, none of them are raising or selling for various reasons.

I'm still hoping to find a source, but may have to delay raising Red Wattles for another year. I'll definitely be raising pigs, but will need to choose another heritage breed that is more available. Red Wattles will come to Pasture Expectations though, and I can't wait for that to happen. They are the breed I've been planning to raise and breed since before I knew what a pto (that means “power take off” for you non-tractor folks) was, so I’m not giving up. 

One of the most important changes I'll be sharing with you you this year is the construction of a brand new turkey poult brooder! Last year I had to make do with an existing structure on the farm that was drafty and not suited to the number of poults I raised. I was debating how to improve this structure and trying to make it work with materials I already had on the farm, when in a fit of disgust I just knocked the whole thing down. A lot of this new farming venture involves making giant and often scary leaps, and I knew without a brooder, I wouldn’t be able to raise another flock of birds, so the destruction of the very old and unsafe building I'd used last year would force me to figure out how to create a structure that would be healthier and safer for the birds in this new year.

The brooder is where day-old poults are raised, fed, kept warm, and nurtured until they are about 8 weeks old and able to spend time out on pasture. They spend their first few weeks under heat lamps sleeping, but they grow so fast that space in the brooder is important to avoid over-crowding as they grow older. The birds are too young to be exposed to the outdoors due to their still developing and fragile immune systems. The brooder needs to be draft free, have a power source, roosts, and easy access to pasture to allow afternoons of  grass grazing as the birds get older. All of this will require funds for the materials, the tools to build, and the know how — none of which I currently have, and poults will arrive in March. Feeling the pressure yet? Me, too! Stay tuned and I'll keep you posted on my progress. 

I'm also really hoping that by some miracle, this new year will bring a tractor to Pasture Expectations. I spend a TON of time hand hauling, digging, and dragging things that would take me minutes with a tractor. When I was still in the planning stages of farm buying, I used to dream about what color my tractor would be. Now I just dream about something that will start and that has a pto. Rust color would be fine.

Almost all of raising birds and pork on pasture depends on the health and variety of good grazing pasture and over seeding, frost sowing, and improved soil health would be made much simpler with the implementation of a tractor. Right now all of the over seeding is done by hand, along with moving fences, waterers, feed bins, and all manner of farm brick-a-brack. Some people dream of big screen televisions and trips to Hawaii. I dream of a tractor with a brush hog. 

For now, it's time for seed ordering, setting up seedling racks, and planning the spring garden. The days are finally getting a little bit longer again and even though we're still in the thick of winter, every day brings with it just a few more minutes of sunlight and the promise of warmer weather and growing things! Stay tuned for pictures of the new brooder, new weaner pigs, and the first of the spring chicks hatching.

Thanks for supporting the farm and everything we do out here! 

Guest Post: A Visit to the Farm

By Heidi Roth

It only took me a year to get up to my sister's new farm - but in that short year I was surprised to see just how far they'd come, how much they'd learned ... and how completely and utterly in love Jen and Greg have become with this beautiful piece of property in central Washington.

As you saw from Jen's previous post, the pigs have provided a steep learning curve, but the turkeys and chickens are old hat for them - they raised them when they were still held captive by the city (Seattle). I just adored watching the young turkeys following her around the farm when they were let out to pasture, like children chasing after the Pied Piper. 

Naughty, the dog, is really not that naughty. She's mildly disinterested in the turkeys and would rather have you throw the ball. Forever. All. Day. Long. Stick around long enough and each of the three farm kitties will bring you limp (if you're lucky) or wriggling (if you're not lucky) gifts of mice and voles. You're welcome.

I was only there for an extended weekend, but honestly, I could've sat on their front porch listening to all the quietness and drinking in all the PNW beauty, sipping on Greg's home-brewed beer and bossing Jenny around in the herb garden for days on end.

As an older sister, I cannot begin to express how amazed, proud, excited, and hopeful I am for my incredibly brave sister and her kick-ass husband (who can fix anything - a farmer's equivalent to McGyver). If anyone can do this, they can do it with a fortitude and strength I only wish I might someday have.

Here's a slideshow of some of my favorite pics from my time on the farm. If you're in the area, drop by and see them sometime. 

Pigs! If I Had it to Do All Over Again …

We're learning so much every single day here on the farm, and the pigs are no exception. We brought these girls home to Pasture E in late February and hit the ground running and I thought it would be fun to chronicle the good stuff, but also share the stuff that DIDN'T work, and how I'm learning to accept failure as part of growing as a farmer and as a person. 

Before purchasing our property, we raised a few small flocks of turkeys in the city so got our feet wet a bit there, but the pigs have been a completely new experience for us and it's already been a wild ride. We decided early on that our first experience with pigs would be with a smaller heritage breed called Kune Kune. They are said to be sweeter in nature (yes!), smaller in stature (another yes!), and easier on pasture being grazers rather than the typical rooters (all lies and we've got the holes to prove it).  All of these things combined making them ideal first time pigs for inexperienced farm newbies like us. 

Home Base

One of the first challenges was deciding on housing. Very few folks out here pasture-raise pigs. Those that raise them at all tend to house them in a permanent pen and we were encouraged to do the same. Over and over we were told "pour yourself a concrete slab, put up a house, and stick them critters in it," and any thoughts on pastured housing was quickly discouraged or dismissed outright. Those of you who have been following our journey know that we want something more for the animals we are raising. We  truly want to be good stewards to them and to the land, and the foundation of those beliefs start with the premise that it's always better to let the animals go to the feed rather than bringing the feed to the animals. Healthier for the critter, less labor for the farmer. 

With this in mind, we settled on using some cattle panels that we already had, and purchased two more to increase the total area the pigs would have at their disposal. Let me first tell you that this set up would never work for larger pigs, as they would quickly become strong enough and big enough to simply root underneath the heavy panels, but for the smaller Kune Kune, this has worked great for keeping them contained and safe from predators. We clipped them together using climbing clips and, boom ... a movable shelter was born.  I very much liked this idea initially because it utilized materials we already had, and it allowed us to get the pigs onto pasture immediately. But listen, them cattle panels are HEAVY, and what I soon discovered was that they were a pain to move. This naturally made us not want to move the shelter as often as was we should to keep the pigs on fresh pasture. We're quickly learning that cutting corners is not an option when it comes to animal husbandry, so next year we'll be investing in some lighter weight electric netting. It's easy to move and if we can afford to get enough, it will give the pigs even more room to roam and forage. For now, we force ourselves to move the heavy panel shelter once a week, more often when its rainy. We like to refer to this weekly workout as getting "farmer swole." 

Feeding

We had the brilliant idea that we would make our own automatic feeder with materials we already had around the farm and while it was a cool-as-heck feeder, the piglets quickly figured out that by repeatedly stepping on the platform that opens the feeder, the lifting flap made an excellent and VERY LOUD back scratcher.

Sigh.

They also quickly worked out how to prop the feeder open with dirt and grass, giving them access to the vermin we were trying to keep out. Next year we'll make one that requires them to simply lift a flap with their snouts to get to the feed. Commercial auto feeders are made this way and now I see why. We also made the mistake of starting out with whole grain feed. They enjoyed this, but struggled to chew it properly and I was finding most of it simply passed undigested in their stool. I attempted to solve this problem by soaking their grain in hot water before feeding but this required getting up at 3 am instead of 3:30 am and while half an hour doesn't seem like much, I try to avoid doing farm chores wearing a head lamp if I can. I can't pull off that look. We ended up finding a pellet feed that solved the problem and let me sleep for that extra half an hour while getting the pigs the nutrition that they needed and could absorb. In short, the combination of frequent fresh pasture and pelleted feed seems to be working for us now. 

Watching these girls grow and learning to provide them the best care and life possible has been awesome. Knowing that they are going to feed our family is both rewarding and sometimes overwhelmingly sad, but I know that the pork we buy packaged at the store came from pigs that never got to run through sprinklers on a hot summer day, eat warm oatmeal with yogurt on cool spring mornings, or get belly scratches while stretched out in deep grass. We are doing everything we can to be good husbandry-men to these girls and treat them with respect and care, but it seems impossible to do this without developing an attachment to them.

Maybe that's not a bad thing.

Learning what it feels like to eat the animals we raise is rough but it’s rewarding. I can't wait to see what we learn tomorrow. 

Seedlings

To anyone who isn't a gardening addict, this may sound crazy, but every time a bright green seedling emerges from a seed I've planted, I feel such a sense of awe and wonder. That such a tiny seed could hold so much magic. A miniature miracle.

Last weekend I spent a few extremely happy hours filling seedling trays with soil and shaking seeds from packets out into my hand before sewing them into the small squares. It sounds silly but this act was the culmination of months of preparation. The winnowing down of choices from the seed catalogs. The excitement when the packets finally arrived. Then the waiting until the final frost date was FINALLY only weeks away. It felt so lovely to get to DO instead of merely plan.

I love the smell of the wet seedling mix almost as much as the wonder of discovering what each new variety of vegetable seed looks like! I had to sit for a moment as the understanding that (at 40 years of age) I was JUST now learning what a rhubarb seed looked like. It makes me feel so blessed to get to plant the seeds that will grow into plants to feed my family, and the animals that will grow to feed all of you that are supporting our endeavors here on the farm.

Honestly, I hesitated a bit before posting this blog. Fearful that someone might read it and find me to be overly sentimental or ridiculous for caring so much about seeds and dirt. But I'm posting it anyway because my hope is that someone else will see my heart and understand that simple pleasures deserve to be dwelled upon and glorified, and that perhaps it will inspire others to go plant a rhubarb seed ... just so they can say they now know what it looks like.