Heritage chickens

Katherine and a Delaware hen

The poulty world has its meat bird rock stars and its egg-laying champs, but if you want one breed to do it all, you're in for some compromises.

White cornish hens crossed with white rock roosters produce chicks that achieve 5-6 pound of growth in 6 weeks!  These are what are available in the store, and even from free-range meat producers.  We raise a batch of 50 every fall.  As hybrids they have a few faults: they can't be kept as breeding stock because their chicks will not show the same characteristics, and if kept past 6 weeks, they fall over.  That's right, they eat so much and gain so fast that their little legs just stop holding them up.  People still raise them (even humane and sustainable operations) because they are the only economically feasible option.  Every other breed takes too long to reach maturity.  The costs of housing, care, and feed keep them out of the competition.


For maximum egg production you can't beat the scrawny, nervous leghorn.  For my farm, I want animals that are personable and well-suited to our Kansas climate extremes.  I've always chosen heavy laying chickens because they need only minimal heat in the winter and fill up the pot when their time is up. 

My current flock includes: Buff Orpingtons, Red Star hybrids, Black Australorps, Arucanas, and Delawares.  Of these I'm hoping to have good results from the Delawares.  Of the breeds listed as critical by the ALBC (American Livestock Breeds Conservation), they sound like the best dual-purpose breed for our farm.  If they pass the laying test then they can expect a rooster and chicks in their future.

Delawares were the commercial meat bird of the past before the Cornish cross monster chickens took over.  I can still expect 4 months from hatch to slaughter, but at least I'll have a purpose for the males I hatch.  Up until now I've never encouraged a broody hen to hatch eggs, but that will be in our future I'm sure.  Even so, we'll still probably grow a batch of Cornish crosses for the freezer.

Hen house bedding

Bagged wood chip bedding added to my cost of egg production and needed a season or two of extra composting before it could go on the garden.  Instead, I started using loose straw litter from a neighbor's barn.  All of the good bales are gone, but there is a whole room of the shattered left-overs that is free for the scooping. They're glad to be rid of it, and I'm glad to find straw anywhere this year when no one grew wheat.  Did I mention it's free?

This year I also scored two truck-loads of city leaves (Thank you, Glenna!).  I put the first load directly on the garden, but then later found that they work pretty well as bedding for chickens and cows when mixed with the straw.  Next fall I'll be out trolling the neighborhoods for more bagged leaves.

The irony is that my suburban parents spend all fall, winter, and spring bagging leaves, but they live too far away to work out a trade.

Getting ready for eggs

 Now that my new flock of chickens was nearing 4 months old, it was time to move the nest boxes from the old chicken house to their new pen.  Katherine helped me plant the fake, wooden eggs in the boxes to get the hens thinking about adding to the collection.  This has worked surprisingly well on past flocks, even though we were too cheep to buy real wooden eggs.  Round wooden balls are cheaper, and since none of these hens has ever seen an egg they don't seem to know the difference.

Three nest boxes was usually enough for my small flock, but with 25 hens this time, I need to make a few more.  If an expectant hen finds no room in the inn, she'll lay eggs on the floor- a hard habit to break.  I should still have a few weeks before my first egg, though.

Udder trouble

Molly, the Jersey milk cow

The cold, dry wind and warm, wet calf slobber have taken a toll on Molly's teats.  They've been looking a little chapped, but now her left front teat has a crack in it.  Cows are pretty tough, but Molly's been uncomfortable enough to kick Jake off when he tries to nurse.  (Not that she needs much of an excuse- she's in mourning over Nellie's departure.)  The result was one full udder. 

I shut the disgruntled parent in the barn, and, with the help of the milk stanchion, Jake and I milked her out.  He took the back teats and I worked the front two.  She protested at first, but in the end she was relieved.  I polished her off with a good coat of bag balm to sooth her sore teat against the wind; I'll repeat this morning and night until she adjusts her milk production down to just feeding Jake.  I haven't milked her now in several months.  It's good to know I still have the knack.

Bag Balm

Things you can't do with bag balm on your hands:
- lift heavy objects
- pet the dog
- brush the hair out of your face
- turn the doorknob to leave the barn

Things you can do with bag balm on your hands:
- ... I'll leave that for someone else's blog

British White Park cattle

Mary, American British White Park cow

Most US cattle genetics are tailored for maximum beef production in a feedlot.  In order to raise beef on grass I needed to look for traits that are not favored by the commodity market: smaller-framed cows that reach maturity sooner, and will fatten well on grass.  Taste and tenderness are important, as well as a gentle disposition. 


When I was looking for a breed capable of excelling in all these areas, the British White Park cattle stood out.  These guys are not common in the US yet, but those that are here are owned primarily by grass-fed operations.

Mary is a great cow who has risen to the status of herd matriarch this year, supplanting Molly who is 2 years older.  She keeps the group together and brings them up to the barn when she hears me whistle.  Both she and her sister, Martha, "settled" on the first try when we bred them using AI.  I'm pleased with the growth and beauty of Mary's first calf, Abe, too.  It will be a while before I can attest to the taste and tenderness categories, but I'm confident that this breed is right for our farm.

Typical markings for White Parks are a white coat over darker skin, with "points" (ears, noses, feet, and teats) in black or red.  Mary and Martha are a little under-marked, but  there are plenty of well-marked bulls available via AI to set the traditional pattern in their offspring.  More about this amazing breed in fact and myth at the following websites:

www.americanbritishwhite.com/


www.whitecattle.org/history.html

Goodbye, Nellie

Bluestem Nellie, Jersey heifer

Nellie, daughter of Molly the milk cow went to a new home this afternoon.  Molly is sad to see her go, but Nellie will have many cow-friends and a nice people-family where she's going.

I hate to break up a family...

Bluestem Nellie, Jersey heifer

Molly, our milk cow, is facing the cold weather with two growing calves to feed (Nellie, left and Jake, below) and likely a new calf on the way for summer.  That's a lot to expect out of a grass-fed cow in winter.  To lessen her load, I need to wean and sell one of her calves (the other will be weaned in spring).  Molly would prefer to keep Nellie, her own heifer, but I don't need two milk cows around here.  Jake, her foster-steer, is promised to the LEO Center food pantry in Lawrence when he's grown.

Jake, Molly's Holstein foster-steer

It's a tough decision, but I think Nellie will need to find a new home.  Luckily, the life of a family milk cow is a pretty good one.  Jake's only off-farm option is the feedlot.  Looks like I'll keep Jake with his momma, wean him onto fresh grass in the spring, and fatten him on grass.  Nellie will go on to have a family of her own, someday. 

Molly and Nellie on Bluestem Farm

Nellie and Molly make a pretty pair.  It's a rare thing for a dairy cow to raise her own calf.  In a dairy, most calves are fed milk replacer in confinement.  That would have been Jake's fate if he hadn't come here at two days old.  Luckily, at the diary where he was born, he as allowed to feed off of his mother at least once.  An other calf, Gary, that we owned briefly, was bonded with people and wouldn't try to nurse on Molly.  He had to be sold as a bottle calf.