Posts from the ‘Livestock’ Category
Hog feed
Our feeder hogs made the transition from bagged to milled feed about a month ago – just before they moved from the undercroft of the barn to their pasture run. When we first raised hogs, feed was available for something less than $15 per 100 pounds. Increases in soy bean and corn prices have pushed that figure to nearly double. Having feed ground at a local mill saves us quite a bit (we recently paid $22.50 per 100 for a ton of feed). In addition, having our feed custom milled allows us much more control over what goes into it … and, importantly, what does not go into it … such as antibiotics. If one is raising a handful of hogs, especially if they have access to pasture and are not confined, there is no need for prophylactic dosing. This practise simply selects for bacterial resistance to the drug administered – which can, potentially, render that drug ineffective if and when administered as a curative. I do understand the logic of routine drug administration under conditions such as those found in commercial CFOs (Confined Feeding Operations). But small groups of hogs on pasture do not comprise a CFO. We’re happy to know where our own food comes from and equally happy to know what our hogs are, and are not, eating. [I would be remiss if I did not point out that the need to store large quantities of feed provides ample justification for a large number of barn cats.]
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The eyes have it (3)
This is the third in a series of posts concerning the dispositions and characters of various breeds of livestock. It goes without saying that individuals within breeds may differ from one another in this way but what we’re getting at here are differences in disposition between and among the various animal breeds themselves; the hardwired, rather than differential, expression of personality. We believe that these differences are most freely revealed through the eyes, the gaze, and countenance.
Of all of the animals we have raised over the years, we have had the most experience with sheep. They are quintessential flock animals. It is difficult to approach an individual sheep; when you do, the behavior of that animal will influence that of the individual near it, which will influence the behavior of the animal near it, and so on … until the entire flock becomes stirred into a chain of reaction. A positive feedback loop ensues which manifests as an explosion of hooves dashing from whatever it was that started the reaction, or alternately, toward whatever stimulus started things off (if the stimulus happens to be food, for example). Those of us who raise sheep have often heard the joke … What is it that you see when you look into the eyes of a sheep? And, the wry reply … The back of its skull. Sheep are complex animals and the preceding is, I believe, unfair. On one level, sheep seem unthinking and unreasonable. Why won’t they let us pet them, and why don’t they seek us out as companions as do cats and dogs? It is interesting to ponder the differences between animal breeds, their behaviors, and the basis for them. Because sheep are small, it is reasonable to assume that behaviors such as the sort described above are defensive. It’s not that sheep are unfriendly … flocks simply respond as do schooling fish and act collectively to perceived threats and dangers. Individuals do not or can not size up situations. Having described sheep in this way paints them, perhaps, as dim witted or one dimensional … this is not true. Although the flocking instinct is strong, individuals do have personality … some are bold, dominant, and pushy, while others are quiet and happy to follow the lead of others. Getting to know, understand, and to appreciate sheep takes time.
The other defining character of sheep you should know is that they are stoic … in the extreme … in contrast, for example, to goats which are anything but. I have heard it said that Sheep spend their entire lives looking for a dramatic way to die. And, to an extent, this is true. Unless a sheep has a significant, and outwardly manifesting, health issue it won’t let on that anything is wrong. It is these outward manifestations of ill-health however that shepherds depend upon. Even in its debilitated state a sheep will run from you, if it has the strength. Who was it that said, If you can’t catch your patient then it isn’t all that ill? It’s the individual you can catch that is in real trouble.
If a sheep were transmogrified into human form the result would be someone at ease with the routine; the out of ordinary would be met with suspicion. Negative reactions to novel situations would be swift and without consideration. The individual would be free with those within its circle and unaffected by those without. I don’t believe the transmogrified sheep would enjoy books or chess, but might be enthusiastic about a good puzzle or paint-by-number.
Next time you get the chance to watch a flock of sheep consider these characterizations.
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Bird in hand
We picked up our day-old chicks today from a True Value® Hardware store about an hour’s drive from here. We used to purchase our birds (mail order) from a large, nationally known, supplier but found these to be prone to respiratory and leg problems. A few years ago we switched suppliers; the new birds grow more slowly and are healthier at 7-8 weeks. Next week we’ll travel back to our supplier for both ducks and turkeys.
We have been raising our own meat birds and egg layers for more than 15 years now and have noticed, in the popular press, that doing so has become trendy. [Imagine that - we're (finally) doing something trendy!] Raising birds is really pretty easy. All you need, initially, is a place free from drafts and predators. Peeps need to be shown to their first drink of water, and sprinkling a bit of their feed on the ground helps to get them started. You’ll need to add a heat lamp to keep the temperature in the immediate vicinity of the birds at 95ºF (the lamp is raised every week to reduce the temperature 5º until ambient is achieved). Young meat birds transition to pasture at about 4 week while egg layers do the same and have a few lessons about roosting in appropriate places overnight added to their regime.
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The eyes have it (2)
This is the second in a series of posts concerning the different dispositions and characters of various breeds of livestock. It goes without saying that individuals within breeds may differ from one another in this way but what we’re getting at here are differences in disposition between and among the various animal breeds themselves; the hardwired, rather than differential expression of personality. We believe that these differences are most freely revealed through the eyes, the gaze, and countenance.
We raise turkeys seasonally and have come to know them well. Like chickens, turkeys have some capacity for flight but spend the majority of their time ground foraging. Flocks are close-knit. Chickens range as a loose association with group members moving about, foraging, on their own. Turkeys, in contrast, range as a tight group. Their behavior as individuals is not nearly as frenetic as that of ranged chickens. Turkeys tend to pause often … I was just about to say that they tend to pause often, as if to cogitate … but that would have been a non-truth because I don’t believe that turkeys think much at all. They often gaze blankly as if to suggest that what they are trying to think about is percolating, ever so slowly, into the deep recesses of their consciousness. Once they have processed information they act, slowly. If you watch a group of turkeys for a time you might be lead to think that groups make collective decisions – flocks function as a committee. I’m not quite sure how, but individuals do communicate with one another in the decision-making process. In our experience males (Toms) can be belligerent with lots of bluster to accompany the attitude. Hens are quiet, quicker than the males (physically and mentally) and purposeful about their movements. My daughter has commented that turkeys tend to looking disapprovingly at just about everything. There’s something about their long beaks and the relation of the beak to the eyes which gives the impression that they are looking down their nose at you. Toms make a drumming or thumping sound which can be mistaken for sounds of disapproval, as if they’re commenting, Harumph.
If a turkey were to be transmogrified into human form the result would be a very large, bombastic, pompous, sort. This person would be generally quiet and when he did speak it would be to condescend. He would be more interested in talking to and interacting with close friends rather than in entering into open discourse with you or with anyone else outside his circle. Now that I think of it it’s clear that I’ve described Mr. Darcy from (the beginning of) Jane Austin’s, Pride and Prejudice. I would be quick to point out however that no turkey could hold a candle to Fitzwilliam’s sharp intellect. Finally, Tom turkeys will speak when spoken to … if you gobble at them, they are quick to gobble back; they don’t take insult lightly.
Next time you get the chance to watch a flock of Turkeys consider these characterizations.
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The eyes have it
This is the first in what I hope will be a series of posts concerning the different dispositions and characters of various breeds of livestock. It goes without saying that individuals within breeds may differ from one another in this way but what we’re getting at here are differences in disposition between and among the various animal breeds themselves; the hardwired, rather than differential expression of personality. We believe that these differences are most freely revealed through the eyes, the gaze, and countenance.
Although egg layers and meat birds alike have some (limited) capacity for flight, these animals spend most of their time foraging on the ground. As such, they are exposed to predation by fox, racoon, and other denizens. Free-range birds are very wary. Notice the location of the eyes, widely set on either side of the head. These birds enjoy 300° of panoramic (monocular) vision and 26° of binocular vision; the former allows them to watch for predators (it is very difficult to sneak up on a chicken) while the latter allows them to act as one. In their ever elevated state of nervousness they rarely blink, and when they do, it is only for the briefest of periods. Chickens are always on the move. Ever watchful, they scan about, nervously, as they make their way through lawn, pasture, and meadow. They rarely rest during the day, and when they do they do so with their eyes opened and from a point which provides good vantage (such as high points of ground or low tree branches).
Hens watch for predators, other hens, and for the rooster. Roosters watch for predators and are constantly looking out for their harem. Hens seem to enjoy themselves in their incessant search for good things to eat; they rarely quarrel. A rooster, on the other hand, must keep track of and breed his hens, all the while working to protect them … a most difficult job, but a good rooster is good at it. Roosters, as perhaps you know, will quarrel with each other, sometimes to mortal ends.
If a chicken were to be transmogrified into human form the result would be a nervous sort, not easy to get to know. I don’t believe the transmogrified bird would be well read or a good conversationalist. The hens would be shallow, gossips, and prone to forming and belonging to cliques. They would be self-absorbed and very much concerned with status. Roosters would be rakish and might appear as Tom Jones did his heyday (or as the comic book character Moose from the Archie series). They would be well muscled, not at all cerebral, and quick to judge.
Next time you get the chance to watch a free-range flock, consider these characterizations.
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Lock the gate
The gate to which this latch is attached provides direct access to the undercroft of the barn. Although there is another gate between this area and the open pasture, this has always been the gate which had to be shut. I’m sure our kids have recurring nightmares of me asking … Are you absolutely sure you locked the gate? Although there are many gates around the farm, this particular question concerned only one gate – this one – and they knew it. I obsess about this gate, even though I know that no animal has ever left the barn through it (unauthorized, that is).
The reason I posted this photo is because the impression made by the pendulum-like motion of the dangling latch has always fascinated me. How many gate openings were required to produce the groove? Let’s see if we can’t estimate … we’ve been on the farm for 17 years (we installed the latch, new, when we arrived) … we’ll call that 6000 days. I would guess that this latch is opened, on average, 20 times per day (10 trips into the barn and 10 trips back out) … that’s 120,000 openings. The latch swings back and forth across the groove perhaps three times each time it is dropped – that’s 360,000 passes. The groove is about an inch deep. Let’s go metric … 2.5 cm (that’s 25,000 microns). So, each pass has removed a layer of wood just about 7/100 of a micron thick. Why do I enjoy doing calculations such as this?
To end on a more contemplative note … what stories might the latch tell if it could talk? It could recount anecdotes about shearing sheep, milking cows and goats, treating all kinds of animals, and sending some off to other farms – our local livestock markets – or to slaughter. It could tell of disappointments, outright disasters, and losses, as well as successes, joys, accomplishments, and lessons learned.
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Special talent
Indicating on my resume that I can bottle two lambs simultaneously with one hand, will, I am sure, get me far.
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Saturday chores
We often turn to one another and ask, ”What did we do today?” And then we’ll smile and respond together, “I don’t know but it took all day to do it.” The weekend was spent keeping up. Around the edges Joanna completed another shawl and did some spinning; I managed to make good progress on the much-needed hog run. I carry my camera with me when I remember; the gallery below comprises images captured while doing afternoon chores on Saturday. Clicking an individual image will take you to a carousel view and esc will bring you back to this post.
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Scratch n sniff
I used to use phrases such as Eat like a hog, This place looks and smells like a pigsty, and What a hog. Having raised hogs I now take exception to such sayings, because they are untrue; at the very least, the equation of hogs with filth is unfair. The animals shown below were born in early February and arrived at the farm in the middle of March; they will be moved to pasture shortly. The 15 X 15′ pen is in the undercroft of the barn – does it look dirty to you? Do the hogs look dirty? These are very clean animals indeed because hogs are in fact quite fastidious, if given the chance.
Let’s be plain, animals make mess … you and I make mess, and messes need to be dealt with (let us all thank those who, over the millenia, devised technologies which lead to the flush toilet). If you don’t clean animal pens regularly, or you choose to allow manure to accumulate – you’re going to have a nasty, smelly, mess on your hands. If given the opportunity, and a large enough pen, pigs will select and use a particular area of that space as a latrine. It is a simple matter to scoop the latrine once or twice each day and doing so renders the pen clean and relatively oder free. Raising animals on a small scale allows one to keep up. CAFOs (Confined Animal Feeding Operations, which may house as many as 2500 hogs in a single structure) are notorious for their stench and for emitting noxious gasses including hydrogen sulfide, ammonia, carbon dioxide, and methane. Small, sustainable, hog operations make good sense. Here’s to a new view on the humane care of hogs and of porcine hygiene. As a final note, well composted hog manure makes exceptionally rich fertilizer for the garden.
Adorabell
I thought I’d update you on Tinkerbell. She’s doing well and has been back on pasture with her mother, Margaret, for two days now. I’ve noticed that she has to work especially hard to keep up; not because she’s weak, but because she’s so small … her (very) little legs have to run two or three times as fast as those of any of the other lambs. The big question now is whether to register her as Pairodox Tinkerbell or as something a bit more formal, such as Pairodox Belle – in which case we would use Tinkerbell as her ‘barn’ name? What do you think?
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Chalkbrood
We did (bee) hive inspections over the weekend and found weird stuff on the bottom boards of each of our hives. The (very) strange material didn’t look quite like either mouse or bird droppings – we were perplexed. We had put newspaper around the bottom of each of the hives to help with winter insulation – we thought, perhaps, the bees had chewed some of this up, processed it a bit, and then deposited it.
We consulted one of the local bee gurus who diagnosed the material as evidence of Chalkbrood, which results from infection by the fungus Ascosphaera apis. What you see in the photo are the mummified bodies of bee larvae that became infected and then consumed (in part) by the fungus – these were then cast off as a result of hygienic behavior by the hive.
Apparently, fungal infestation of this sort may occur as a response to stress, and I think I might have been the culprit! As I indicated earlier, we plugged air spaces at the bottom of each of our hives with newspaper. I think I might have removed this extra insulation a bit early. We hadn’t noticed anything amiss with the hives over winter. It wasn’t until several weeks ago that I began to notice what I thought were perhaps mouse droppings in front of each hive. Anyway, I think I may have cold-stressed the hives when I removed the insulation. Under these conditions the larvae would have become susceptible to infestation by the fungus. Some have indicated that Chalkbrood may occur when hive ventilation is inadequate.
In any event, all of last week’s hive inspections were otherwise fine – the queens were producing brood (larvae) and good stores of honey were already accumulating in several supers. We’re going to assume that this episode of Chalkbrood has been self-limiting and is now over. Let’s hope.
Tinkerbell
Miracle Max (a wonderful movie character, played by Billie Crystal, in The Princess Bride) observed that “There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive.” Not to put too morbid a spin on the introduction to this post, but a relative of ours is known to have said, “It’s not really dead until it’s warm and dead.” We had an event here over the weekend which brought both of these maxims back from the deep recesses of memory.
We were walking across the pasture first thing in the morning to bottle Greta’s lambs, when we saw Margaret off by herself in a distant corner. Sure enough, she had lambed overnight. Margaret is a yearling and was kept from Henry during breeding season – but had obviously managed a rendezvous somehow. As we approached we saw two lambs – one was dead and the other, in the words of Miracle Max, was mostly dead. Margaret had deposited both lambs in the middle of a patch of ground devoid of grass which the night time rain had turned into a mud puddle. The live lamb was a dirty mess, had little muscle tone, could not raise its head, and had its back legs splayed at the hip. The only signs of life were nearly imperceptible whimpers made in response to the calls of its mother. We toweled it off and rubbed its sides to stimulate respiration. We then trimmed its umbilical and discovered that it was a little, a very little, girl.
The Shetland is a slow-growing sheep breed of fairly small stature. Because we put ewes out to breed in the fall and lambs are born in early spring, ewe lambs are just six months old when the breeding season rolls around once more. If a ewe lamb is bred in the fall, she will be just a year old at lambing. We believe this is too young – and Margaret’s story serves to illustrate this point. Although Margaret herself is in great condition – both her lambs were very small and, of course, one was dead and the other, in the words of Miracle Max, was just slightly alive. This is probably why twinning is relatively rare in yearlings.
In any case, we cleaned the lamb and got hold of Margaret who was still trying to come to terms with motherhood. We made sure that the little one got a good drink of the all-important colostrum. We brought both mother and daughter into the barn. The two spent the remainder of the day getting to know one another in an enclosed, warm, quiet, and clean space. Every couple of hours we helped the little one stand to suckle. By evening the lamb was able to get her legs under her, find Margaret’s udder, and suckle on her own. Margaret too, seemed to benefit from the alone time with her new daughter. As of this afternoon the pair seem to be doing just fine. We are expecting storms tonight so will keep them in until tomorrow – then they will go out if the weather is fine. We don’t want to keep Margaret off grass too long and create readjustment problems transitioning back from hay.
There have been numerous occasions here at the farm, involving calves, kids, lambs, goslings, piglets, rabbits, and chicks, when an individual, having been born late on a cold night, has been found chilled and “mostly dead” the next morning. When this happens there is, often, a vicious cycle (or positive feedback loop) which sets in … the little one gets cold, then weak, and does not then have the strength to eat … which weakens it more … and so on. One needs to be constantly vigilant. When found, these little ones need to be warmed and fed, immediately. Whether you get hold of Mom and assist the little one to feed from the teat, bottle, or even tube-feed the animal, is secondary – the important thing is that you get nourishment into the animal quickly. If it is very cold it may not be able to swallow and you’ll need to warm it first and then feed it – this is to avoid shock, drowning, or both. We have had animals in our kitchen on many (memorable) occasions. This space has bawled, bleated, cheeped, cackled, gobbled, squealed, and all the rest – in support of this most important of First Aid protocols.
The lesson to be learned is that good husbandry requires constant vigilance.
My daughter once had two t-shirts made up for me as Holiday gifts … one read It’s always something … the other said It’s never nothing – how true.
By the way – the title of this post – Tinkerbell – is the name we have given this new, little, lamb.
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Learning curve
Is it paradoxical to say that raising livestock has taught us most everything we know about raising livestock? If so, no matter. It is true.
We believe in the value of education. We believe this so strongly that it is fair to say we are convinced that our future depends upon the strength of our academic institutions, and their ability to instruct and to empower us all. At a time when, for many, a facility with Wikipedia and the internet not only symbolizes but embodies what it is to be learned and knowledgeable, the two of us live at the margin in our belief that there is much to be learned from books, libraries, and from groups of very learned people. Having said all of this however, we would also be the first to recognize that there is absolutely nothing quite like experience when it comes to a certain kind of learning. Coming to know about livestock husbandry has, for us, been a mix of learning from books, talking to people who know more than we do, and from taking false steps and making mistakes. Overall, it is the animals themselves which have taught us the most. Over the years this recipe has allowed us to develop lots and lots of skills that Napoleon Dynamite might envy.
Take for example this image of Winifred. It looks as though she’s swallowed a beach ball. Would it surprise you to know that she was neither pregnant nor fat when the photo was taken? Winifred recently kidded twins and has also been nursing an orphaned kid. Winifred is milk machine and, as such, is eating like a horse (if that’s possible for a goat). What you see in the picture is her distended rumen packed full of fodder … like yourself, perhaps, after a Thanksgiving dinner. [If you’re interested in the structure and function of the rumen check out this link.] And that is all. I do not mean to suggest that the real possibility of bloat is something to be ignored, because it most definitely is not, and we recognize that. What we have learned, however, is to distinguish a happy goat that happens to be eating like a horse from one which is suffering from bloat and risks death from suffocation. When we first observed this condition (that of a full-to-bursting rumen) we assumed the worst and dosed the poor doe with vegetable oil, repeatedly. Live and learn. Watch your animals carefully; if you do, you will soon know to differentiate the animals that are feeling fine from those that are ill.
The following story of another time when we learned by mistake is perhaps one that more sensitive readers should skip. It concerns the manure of ruminants and, in particular, the consistency of cow manure (or the manure of any ruminant for that matter) and what it can tell you about the health status of the individual. I think most folks know (or can, perhaps, imagine) what a well formed cow pie looks like when neatly piled upon the ground. Furthermore most folks can push the process of pie production back, in time, to imagine the consistency of said material at the moment it was being presented by the cow; normally something with a consistency ranging between mashed potatoes and loose bread dough. Shortly after obtaining our first Jersey cow, Bonnie, we thought she had taken a dramatic and perhaps deadly turn for the worse. Her manure was liquid. Let me be plain, there was absolutely nothing solid about it. It comprised a nearly perfect stream of flourescent green liquid with the consistency of motor oil. We called our veterinarian only to be asked whether we were aware it was early spring. The dry grass hay Bonnie had been consuming all winter was perhaps 7-8% protein, while the fresh, green, grasses of early spring might have ranged as high as nearly 25% protein. Imagine what a similarly precipitous sort of change would do to your gut. As in the case of bloat, we are well aware of the risk of grass tetany; but equal to the importance of being knowledgeable about grass tetany is knowing when your cow is simply eating well.
And then there was the time I observed green rivulets streaming from the nostrils of a Devon steer. My immediate response was to give oxytetracycline (it is a significant challenge to administer anything to a full-grown steer in an open pasture) to treat an upper respiratory infection this steer probably did not have. Nasal discharges of this sort are fairly common and may be due to a number of causes, only one of which is an upper respiratory infection.
The lesson I’m working around to is that many aspects of livestock husbandry just have to be learned by raising livestock. Reading books is good, it’s very good – seek them out and read many of them. Talking to folks who can say Been there, done that, and mean it, is good – seek them out and talk to many of them. Once that’s done however you have to jump in … all the way (no wading up to your knees). There really is nothing like experience when it comes to learning the ropes. You have try your hand at it all. You’ll make lots of mistakes – guaranteed. Over the years however you will find that you make fewer and fewer. At some point you will realize that you know a whole lot about things that you didn’t before – and that’s quite an accomplishment.
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Shetland Sheep
Although the frontispiece to this blog indicates that we have been raising registered Shetland sheep since 1989 we haven’t yet taken much time to tell you about the breed.
The history of Shetland sheep goes back well over a thousand years to animals brought to the Shetland Islands by Vikings. Shetlands are fairly small in stature and possess many characteristics of landrace animals (those developed largely by adaptation to natural conditions rather than by selective breeding motivated by agriculturalists). Rams weigh 90-125 pounds and have magnificently spiraled horns; ewes weigh 75-100 pounds and are polled (without horns). They are fine-boned and their naturally short tails do not require docking. Shetland wool is fine; fleeces weigh 2 – 4 pounds and have a staple length of 2-5 inches. Shetland fleece comes in a wide variety of colors ranging from white, to shaela (silver), gray, moorit (brown), and black. There are eleven distinct wool colors and thirty described color patterns, many of which have become quite rare as white wool has historically commanded a better market. Shetland sheep are hardy, easy keepers, good mothers, and easy lambers. [The preceding was taken, in part, from the Oklahoma State University, Department of Animal Science.]
We chose to raise Shetland Sheep for a number of carefully considered reasons.
- We are both fairly small people and Shetland sheep are easy for us to handle. When compared to a Merino ram, for example, which may tip the scales at more than 200 pounds, a 100 pound Shetland is a much easier package to deal with. Animal transport, on the scale at which we operate, does not require a livestock trailer. We are able to truck animals about with only a pick-up rack of the sort manufactured by Sydell.
- Some have referred to the Shetland as a primitive or unimproved breed, meaning that it expresses many favorable, landrace, characters. In particular these animals thrive on what would be considered by many to be low-quality forage and they easily maintain body condition without feed supplementation. Shetland ewes twin reliably, and are good mothers that lamb easily on pasture (rather than in barns). They do well at temperature extremes – they do require shade in the summer and a place to harbor from cold rain. Like many animals these sheep do equally well in warm/wet and in cold/dry conditions – what they do not like is cold and wet. After more than two decades of selective breeding, our flock has developed a degree of natural resistance to intestinal parasites – however we routinely worm all of our animals once each year (at shearing). Shetlands have good, sturdy, feet which do not require excessive trimming.
- Shetlands are known to produce some of the very finest fleeces among the many sheep breeds. Because their wool grows in a number of natural colors Shetlands seemed a natural choice for folks like us with interests in both spinning and weaving.
- Yearlings make for excellent eating and dress well even when exclusively grass fed.
- And finally, we have raised Shetlands all of these years because they are a heritage breed listed by the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy as recovering. NASSA (the North American Shetland Sheepbreeders Association) is their breed registry here in the United States. [The photo which accompanies this post shows Pairodox Samantha - a crossbred, yearling, ewe.]
