Dropstone Farms

So, we really dropped the ball on keeping everyone updated on the broiler chickens via the website. We really intended to, but it turned out that 150 chickens took up kind of a lot of time. So, here’s a retrospective of their lives …

The chickens (affectionately known as nuggets) moved to pasture the last weekend of September, just before the TWL Harvest Fair. Thousands of people attend the Harvest Fair so the chickens had a busy first day, and it seemed we prompted a lot of family conversations about where meat comes from (which I think is good). From there, we moved the tractors the hill towards the top, then over towards the orchard, then back down into some extra-delicious juicy green grass, then sideways towards the cropland area — basically in a big rectangle to avoid some trees and some really hilly areas.

By the time we got back to our starting point, about 6 weeks later, and looked at the path up the hill that we had already grazed, we realized that the grass where the chickens had been (scratching, pooping, scratching, eating, pooping) was greener, thicker, and taller than the paths we had left between the tractors. Part of the reason we do chickens in tractors — aside from the extremely important fact that it’s the most humane, safest way for the chickens to spend their lives — is the soil improvement that comes with rotating poultry through a pasture. It was really gratifying to see it in practice. We were able to re-graze them on the land they had already passed through because the soil and grass had improved so much.

One of the first times we moved them, shortly after the Harvest Fair, I noticed one chicken with some sort of morsel that he had just found, and everyone else was chasing him around to try to get it. Kids at the Harvest Fair had been running around with balloons and I heard several of them pop, so I went in to chase him around to try to get it, too, to verify that it wasn’t balloon. It was a little salamander or newt. I felt sorry for the little guy but he was already beyond help, so I left the birds to finish their game of keep-away.

Never let anyone tell you chickens are naturally vegetarian. If you see “vegetarian” on the egg carton, you know those hens were never outside.

It only took a couple of days for them to realize that when we started pulling the tractors forward, instead of running away from us (towards the back), they should run forward to the nice fresh grass that we were dragging them towards. Chickens love grass.

We lost a few of them here and there, a couple for reasons we could identify (ate too much) and a couple we couldn’t. We had one bad day when the biggest tractor blew down the hill and ran over a couple of guys partway, leaving them pinned under the end — one was gimpy but still getting around OK enough to not let us catch him easily, so we left him; the other had a broken wing and a pretty mangled leg. He was big enough to keep so we processed him and were able to keep all the meat except the bad leg and wing. Poor guy.

This weekend we processed everyone who was left, minus the one little girl who was too small and cute to process, who we will keep until she gets bigger or starts laying. We had lots of helpers (though many novices — not like we’re experts!) and we processed all day Saturday and Sunday. By midday on Saturday we got into a rhythm and everyone was pretty comfortable doing all the jobs, so we were able to take breaks and work in shifts and move around between stations for some variety. It was great to see customers again — lots of people were really excited — and to hear about how folks are going to cook them. Lots of barbecue and roasting (my favorite), and some folks with Romertopfs, plus some recipes that might get me eating liver yet … breaded and fried; sauteed; pâté …

It certainly doesn’t make for a good day, and it shouldn’t be, but it’s a day of completeness. It’s thanksgiving all the time on the farm.

Thank you, chickens.

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Shelling peas on the couch, originally uploaded by laurenipsum.

The shelling peas are coming on strong so we picked a big bowlful to shell while watching Buffy. I use the shells to make stock in case we need to feed any vegetarians, and I blanched and then quick-cooled the peas right in the colander we shelled them into.

3 cups shelling peas, June 22 2009, originally uploaded by laurenipsum.

Does what it says on the tin.

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So we recently figured out how to turn on stats for the blog and it turns out that many people get here by searching for “straw bale root cellar,” which is something I posted about earlier after shamelessly stealing the idea from Throwback at Trapper Creek.

It's a Futurama joke. Sorry

Unfortunately, our straw bale root cellar failed miserably. While Throwback built her cellar in the barn we, sadly deficient in barns, built ours under the back porch and stretched a tarp overtop of it. End result was that critters and water got in resulting in the food and straw bales being eaten and rotted respectively. Bummer. But live and learn, food storage is a skill and, despite losing about 30% of what we stored over the winter I think we did alright. Mostly we don’t want anyone following our example thinking it’s a road to success.

And the great thing about gardening is that, even when food goes bad, it’s not wasted. It’ll either get fed to the poultry or composted. Either way it turns into healthy soil and healthy food. It’s just a matter of time.

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We’ve been processing tomatoes, originally uploaded by laurenipsum.

… a little at a time. We don’t have a pot that holds more than four quart-jars anyway so it works out.

We have also slow-roasted and frozen a couple of pounds, and have dried some too.

Pictured: Green Zebra; Ananas Noire; Black Prince; Brandywine; more varieties whose names I don’t know; some basil; an apple.

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And it wasn’t even that bad!

I picked a gallon of blackberries on Saturday and on Sunday we turned it into … well … it was supposed to be jam. I didn’t put as much sugar as it called for because I tasted it and it was sweet enough partway through the sugar addition process. But then it didn’t turn into jam, it just stayed syrupy. My mom the Jam Queen said, add the rest of the sugar, and bring it back to a boil, and don’t think too hard, just can it. So I was very careful following the rest of the directions, keeping about a million things on my stove right at 180°, and ladling jam into hot jars fresh out of the dishwasher, wiping rims, placing lids and screwing down rings, then gently placing into the (180°) stockpot. Eight half-pint jars went in and then we turned it up to boil for 15 minutes. On being removed, almost all of the lids popped immediately — yay! seals! — and the last few popped a few minutes later. So I was happy with my eight half-pints of blackberry syrup. We can have yogurt, and ice cream, and waffles and pancakes and crepes … but this morning, it looked as though the jars have cooled into jam after all! So that’s exciting. But I am sure it will be delicious regardless of the consistency.

And just now we have put 5 pounds of peaches into jars, and put it on to boil. Five pounds of peaches makes 3 quarts of canned peach halves in light syrup. I hope they turn out. I want peach scones in February.

Now I want to can everything! What else can I make? Stories, advice, recipes?

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