Selecting Seeds

We started receiving seed catalogs in the mail at the end of the calendar year, before the Christmas decorations were put away. I don't mind; it's wonderfully healing to sit in front of the fireplace and dream about next year's crops.

For many years, I've been a loyal customer of my local garden center. I love their expertise and their willingness to answer silly questions without laughing at me. I appreciate that they stay open year around. It's lovely to visit the store in mid-winter for a dose of inspiration. The garden center merged with a local seed company 20 years ago, so seeds have always been available. I have confidence that plants and seeds sold there will surely grow in my region. Unfortunately, I've also become more aware of the strong smell of garden chemicals in that store.

During the course of mid-winter research, I learned that some seed companies have taken a Safe Seed Pledge in which they promise to sell seeds that have not been genetically modified. Although I wasn't entirely sure of the implications of genetically modified seed, I decided to patronize some of these companies. I jumped on the internet and ordered several seed catalogs, then waited for them to arrive in the mail.

I've learend that gardeners plant heirloom seeds to produce old-fashioned fruits like our grandparents might have grown. There is an urgency to preserve these genetically pure plants. Heirloom and open-pollinated seeds can be saved from one season to the next and continue to produce reliable crops that are the same as the parent plant.

Gardeners may chose to plant F1 hybrid seeds, bred from two different parent plants to produce an improved plant. Sometimes a hybrid will be more well-suited to a particular climate or region, or perhaps a hybrid is bred for particular sweetness or disease resistance. Hybrid seeds will not produce strong, reliable crops if saved for the next season.

There is increasing concern about genetically modified seed, in which unrelated genetic material is bred. The long-term results of this are still unknown, and many gardeners are cautious about using this.

After my new catalogs arrived in the mail, I spent several evenings in my chair at the fireplace, circling all my favorites with a red pen. I was like a little kid in a candy shop. The photographs in the catalogs were gorgeous, and the descriptions made me want to order one of nearly everything. It was difficult to narrow down my choices, but I finally placed an order and waited for the seeds to arrive.

"Urban Homesteading" trademarked

Today was an Action Day by a Facebook group called "Take Back Urban Homesteading." I'm not clear on all the details, but I'll try to summarize the basics in order to raise general awareness.

Evidently, there is a homesteading family in California that has somehow copyrighted or trademarked the phrase "urban homestead." Any person, group, organization, blog or website using the words "urban homestead" for their own project will soon get a letter threatening legal action. This has caused a surge of outrage against the California family. It's certainly not working in their favor; they have alienated many of their friends and clients associated with their various businesses related to urban homesteading.

Homesteading has been part of American culture for a couple centuries. For some families, it's not a business, it's a way of life. It's certainly not a copyright. It's astonishing that one family thinks that they own a concept so old, and it's shameful that they try to trademark the phrase for their own profit. Good grief.

This is what democracy looks like (farm style)

For nearly three weeks, my state has been embroiled in bitter political battles. There have been nearly continuous protests and rallies at the state capitol in support of workers' right to collectively bargain.

Evidently, the protest has also arrived in the hen house at Red Bucket Farm.

For months my hens have dutifully laid their eggs in the clean nest boxes provided in the safety zone at the far corner of the hen house. Suddenly, the girls have decided they need new working conditions. They're laying eggs in the danger zone at the top of the ladder, where their eggs might roll out of the hen house. This is also directly beneath the roost, where it gets soiled nightly. Rosie the Red Star and Hyacinth the Easter Egger are in solidarity about this. Wisteria prefers her extra large nest.

Since I'm trying to listen to the needs of the workers, I moved a nest box into their preferred corner. It's about compromise, right? Rosie approved the new working conditions by laying a large brown egg there this morning. I've baited the safety zone nest boxes with golf balls, hoping the girls will take the hint. But as long as the protest continues, I'll clean the danger zone nest carefully and hope to keep the workers happy.

This is what democracy looks like. On the farm, anyway.

Bird Brains!

My chickens are privileged. Pampered. Probably even spoiled.

Life is good at Red Bucket Farm for three lovely hens. They live in the "casa gallina," which is a freestanding fortress for poultry. They have a solid roof, hardware cloth screened walls, and reinforced wood flooring with plenty of bedding materials. The elevated hen house is well-insulated with a sturdy roost for sleep at night. It also has a ceiling vent at one end, and a pop-hole for their ladder at the other end, allowing for ventilation without draft. They have free access to let themselves in and out of the hen house whenever the mood strikes. Since I don't like the stink, I tend to keep it all rather clean.

When the girls arrived at maturity last fall, we provided nesting boxes for them to lay their egss. For my own amusement, the nest boxes are painted fun colors. The girls seemed to like the nest boxes and dutifully left me their eggs in the nests.

Once Wisteria the Columbian Wyandotte started laying eggs in late December, we had a new twist in our system. Wisteria didn't feel comfortable squeezing her large fluffy bottom into those cute nest boxes, so she would create her own nest in the hay. That would have been fine, except that she chose the least desirable location in the whole coop: directly at the top of the ladder and beneath the roost. It's icky there. Chickens normally poop quite a bit at nighttime, so cleaning up under their roost is a daily chore. (It makes wonderful compost, but that's another blog entry.) That location is also a bit dangerous since they could easily drop their eggs down the ladder. I quickly provided a larger nest for Wisteria. It's a coir basket liner for hanging garden baskets, and it makes a lovely nest when filled with hay. For the most part, Wisteria likes this place.

This morning I went out to clean the coop and gather eggs. The girls are happy and egg production is up, so I was shocked to find zero eggs in the nests! Instead, I found two eggs (thank you Rosie and Hyacinth) in a makeshift nest at the top of the ladder, in the poopiest corner imaginable.

I gathered the eggs, cleaned the poop and pushed the hay back into the corner again. I can't predict when the girls will build their own nests or use the clean boxes that I've provided. For now, I'll just enjoy the personalities of each bird and appreciate the fresh eggs.

Let the sunshine in!

I am a tree hugger, I admit it. After all, there are so many reasons to love a tree. They provide blissful relief from summer's heat and valuable wind break from winter's chill. Trees are shelter for song birds and squirrels, home to owls and woodpeckers, hunting perches for hawks. I love the sound of the wind through their leaves. Trees consume carbon dioxide and release oxygen, thus purifying our air and protecting our planet from human attack. A good tree has form, beauty and function. I simply love trees.

Except for one little problem. My growing passion for urban farming has caused me to glare annoying at some of the trees in my own yard. How can I possibly grow crops with only a couple hours of direct sunlight? What benefit is my little greenhouse when it's shaded most of the day? Will my raspberries ever stop reaching for the sunlight and get down to the business of making berries?

We were blessed with a well-developed yard when we bought this place six years ago. There is a mature honeylocust tree which forms a large canopy over the front yard. There is an equally huge maple tree shading my back patio and deck. Both of the side yards were covered in a thick mat of suckering hydrangea bushes. The hill behind the garage was covered in nine (yes, count them) sprawling juniper bushes. But the crowning glory of my backyard was six enormous spruce trees, each of them approximately 40 years old, towering over the entire property.

Over the last few years, I've trimmed the lower branches of the spruce trees and pondered their fate. Late last summer we removed the smallest one to make space for the greenhouse. Finally, this winter we decided to become dedicated urban farmers. We hired a tree company to remove three of the remaining five spruce trees. And the fateful day was yesterday.

I was excited and nervous. I thought it would be a bittersweet day and that I might mourn the loss of these healthy trees. Nobody was more surprised than me when I found myself cheering for the tree guys. I was happily taking photographs and singing "Let the sunshine in" (while visions of the Fifth Dimension pranced through my head.) I performed a little jig when the trunks finally crashed to the ground. It was an amazing day. By suppertime last night, I could see all the way back to the chicken coop. The greenhouse was no longer hiding behind the spruce trees, the raised beds were clearly visible under the snow. For the first time, I could watch the sunset over the woods.

We have no lack of trees. There are still dozens of spruce trees visible from my dining room window. But now, with a little luck and good compost, perhaps I'll be able to grow a respectable crop of tomatoes. Maybe my raspberries will stop reaching so desperately for the sunlight and finally get down to the business of growing berries. And the huge pile of spruce mulch in my driveway will slowly return to the land.

Happy Chickens Lay More Eggs

Managing my small flock of backyard chickens has been enormously rewarding. I have a handful of hens, each of them a different breed. They are all beautiful, winter-hardy and dual-purpose, whichs means that they lay eggs well and can also be harvested for the soup pot after their egg-producing days are over. I've enjoyed watching them grow from chicks to pullets (teenagers) and later to fully mature hens.

Rosie is my Red Star hybrid. She matured quickly and began laying large brown eggs at exactly four months of age. Rosie lays an egg every day regardless of cold or daylength. She's friendly with people and seems to get along with the other hens.

Delphinium is a Dominique, a true American heritage breed. She began laying tan-colored eggs at about five months of age, perhaps three or four eggs per week. She took about six weeks off in the middle of the winter and refused to lay eggs between Dec. 4 and Jan. 17.

Hyacinth is an Easter Egger, a hybrid that produces green eggs. She began laying eggs at five months and continued to produce right through the darkest part of the winter. This bird was nicknamed "Hysterical Hyacinth" because of her timid behavior.

Finally, Wisteria is a Columbian Wyandotte. She is our largest bird and the slowest to mature. She began to lay eggs at the end of her seventh month, but now she's a good layer of tan eggs. Wisteria is all about food, all the time. And she produces very large poops!

Pecking order in the flock is very real. At night, the dominant bird roosts in the middle of the huddle so the other girls will keep her warm. This is especially important in sub-zero weather. She's also the most aggressive when it comes to extra snacks.

Although I visit my hens at least twice a day, I couldn't ascertain which bird was truly the boss. I liked that my girls seemed rather democratic and there was peace in the coop.

Until mid-January. After several consecutive nights of sub-zero temperatures, Hyacinth the timid Easter Egger started to slow down. Her comb was pale. She didn't seem interested in food. And she allowed me to pick her up and hug her, which was highly unusual behavior for her. After a call to our veterinarian, we decided to bring her inside to warm up. We reassembled our brooder box and brought her indoors.

As she recuperated, we recalled snowshoeing past the coop at night and observing Hyacinth outside the huddle of hens. No wonder the poor thing was failing! After a couple nights in the Poultry Hilton she seemed to perk up. The weather returned to above zero temps, so I took her back outside to join the flock.

This was the moment when I learned that Delphinium is the Big Boss. She walked directly to Hyacinth and pecked her on the head so hard I thought it might kill her. Chicken fights are ugly and Hyacinth would not defend herself. I quickly brought her indoors again. I attempted another reunion later in the day but it was clear that this would not be successful. So I did the only thing any self-respecting mom would do: I gave Delphinium a time-out. She spent the next night in the Poultry Hilton and she was not pleased.

Our subsequent attempts at reunion made it perfectly clear that Delphinium was not only aggressive toward Hyacinth, but she was also quite aggressive towards me. I've never been threatened by a chicken before, but her intentions were clear. So we made the difficult decision to find her a new home. We couldn't afford to keep a bully who was only a moderate layer of eggs, especially with new chicks coming in a month. Fortunately, Delphinium found a new home on a hobby farm with llama and sheep, and she provides her new owners with a few eggs per week.

Meanwhile, Hyacinth the Easter Egger was quite traumatized. It has taken her three weeks to recover after Delphinium's departure. For two weeks she hid in the coop and refused to step outside, but she has finally started laying her beautiful green eggs once again. Happy chickens really do lay more eggs.

Building Backyard Hives

Last spring our three cherry trees bloomed prolifically and we expected a healthy harvest. By mid-summer, however, we ended up with only a few cups of beautiful cherries, enough to bake one pie. We attributed our reduced harvest to lack of pollination.

Honeybees have been in the news frequently over the last few years. There are enough bugs, viruses and syndromes to make my head spin, and the current monoculture of farming isn't providing a healthy environment for the bees. Studies have shown that keeping backyard bees can contribute to the returning health of the honeybees, and backyard beekeepers are learning that a hands-off, chemical-free approach is producing good results. Also, backyard beekeeping raises garden production substantially, and backyard bees have a wider variety of crops to forage. It's a win-win situation.

In November I ordered two packages of bees from Long Lane Honey Bee Farms. A package consists of three pounds of bees (about 20,000) plus a queen. They are delivered by USPS in a wood-framed box with screening. The queen is in her own small box within the larger box so the worker bees can attend to her. I'm expecting delivery of the bees in late April or early May.

There are various styles of beehives. The most common is the Langstroth hive which is the bee condo, the stack of boxes that you may have seen at the edges of farms. It was developed in the 1850s primarily for commercial production of honey. The brood nest is in the bottom box and the bees build their stores of honey in the upper boxes. Each honey box can weigh between 50 and 100 pounds when harvested. This kind of heavy lifting doesn't appeal to me, so we're looking at another style of hive called Top Bar Hive. A top bar hive is a long, low box that allows the bees to build their brood comb and honey comb in a horizontal manner. Honey is harvested more frequently as the hive box fills up and there is no heavy lifting involved. Some folks think that bees raised in top bar hives are more gentle because their habitat is disrupted less than when a Langstroth hive is disassembled for harvest.

There are plenty of small businesses on the internet that are selling top bar hives. Many of their websites are enormously helpful and they seem like a wonderful group of people concerned about the health of our planet. But as usual, it all costs more than my limited budget will allow, so my trusty husband stepped in to build our own. He's finishing our first test hive. It's a box about four feet long, about 15 inches wide at the top and ten inches wide at the bottom. The sides are tapered so the honeycomb will be harvested more easily. He's added a window on one side so we can peek in and watch the bees work their magic. The worker bees will build comb from the top bar guides at the top of the hive. We won't use any plastic comb foundation. After all, the bees will know what to do without our help. They've been doing it for centuries.