Hi Everyone,
In this update:
1. Have you signed up for Summer Session? (Confirmations have been mailed.)
Every year about this time we start getting e-mails like this: "I think I signed up for Summer Session but I'm not sure." Here is a very easy way to know if you are on our list for a Summer Share. We sent out confirmation and billing letters in the regular mail to everyone on our list about three weeks ago. The letter went out even to people who have paid in full. If you did not get a confirmation letter, you are not on our list.
If you believe you did sign up for Summer Session but you did not get a confirmation/billing letter (i.e. if you have a copy of your application, PayPal verification, or a cancelled check), please let us know. It's possible, of course, that we have somehow missed you and we need to know that if we did. If you're not sure that you signed up and have no evidence of having paid or applied, you probably didn't. But you can sign up in just a matter of minutes at our web page, www.jubileefarm.org.
2. Early Spring Session Starts next Wednesday, March 17th
As winter is nearly past, we are readying for our six-week Early Spring Session. Unlike our main Summer Session, most of you who have signed up for the Early Spring Session have done so in the last couple of weeks and have received your online confirmations. But if you don't know if you've signed up, don't hesitate to contact us (jubileefarm@hotmail.com). To get in on the whole six-weeks we need your application by Monday noon, on March 15th. You can sign up online at www.jubileefarm.org.
3. India says "no!"
Yet another major country is taking a strongly cautionary position regarding Genetically Modified Crops (GMOs). Recently India gave a resounding "no" to Monsanto's bid to introduce its first food GMO produce, saying government officials need more time and more evidence to determine if the produce is safe. How refreshing to see yet another country actually engaging in the precautionary principle!
If one wonders how or why India was able to make a decision like this, certainly one of the significant individuals that comes to mind is Vandana Shiva. A PhD physicist and an eco-activist, Vandana Shiva has led the battle against herbicides, pesticides, synthetic fertilizers and the proprietary seeds of international corporations like Monsanto. She has authored dozens of books (one of which, Stolen Harvest, I happen to be reading just now) and over 300 articles and scholarly papers.
Here's a quotation from Stolen Harvest that will help you to see why organic and especially biodynamic farmers find Shiva to be such a hero:
In ecological agricultural cultures, technologies and economies are based on integration between crops and animal husbandry. The wastes of one provide nutrition of the other, in mutual and reciprocal ways. Crop byproducts feed cattle, and cattle waste feeds the soils that nourish the crops.
It's so simple, so obvious, so grounded in the traditions of all agrarian societies, yet so contrary to modern "wisdom" that serves the interests of international corporations over the lives of the poor, the lives and work of farmers, and the fertility of the soil.
Wendy and I have heard Shiva speak. She is a powerful and articulate spokesperson for what we hope is a major voice in India. Certainly this decision to halt and examine the operations of the corporate giant Monsanto is an indication that this is the case.
Given the position of our own government, it would seem that one of two things must be true: either we know more than people in India, Japan, Europe and many other nations (where GMO food products are either prohibited totally or are headed in that direction), or we simply have a government, educational system and research system that can be more easily influenced by the lobbying power of international corporations.
It is well-known that in the US, where almost all academic research is based on support from industry, it is nearly impossible to get funding for research that challenges the safety of GMO products. So, yes, there is very little US research that confirms foreign research about the dangers of GMOs.
One interesting thing we do know is something that just recently received surprising confirmation. This is that weeds which are problematic in the raising of cotton have now developed genetic resistance to Monsanto's Roundup-Ready GMO Cotton. We've known that was happening for a long time, and it was predicted by many scientists who are critical of GMOs that it would happen. But it has been denied by Monsanto until just this week when they admitted that was true.
The insidious thing about Monsanto's genetic manipulation of cotton is this. GMO cotton has a way of taking over—of crossing with non-GMO cotton so that eventually all cotton will be GMO cotton. Now that weeds have developed resistance to Roundup-ready cotton, stronger, more powerful poisons will have to be used to control weeds. But it's likely that weeds will develop resistance to these stronger poisons too, and you can see the treadmill this leads to: an ever escalating need to develop stronger and stronger poisons.
The GMO concern for crops like "Bt corn" (also sold by Monsanto) is slightly different. Bt (Bacillus thuringiensis) is a natural, "organic" (if you will) means of controlling pests like the European Corn Borer. There are many other poisons that are also used in the chemical farmer's arsenal of weapons against insects, but Bt is one of the few naturally occurring insecticides. Because it is a natural insecticide, Bt is one of the only non-poison, last-resort controls organic farmers have for insects that get out of control.
I would have to interject here that insects "getting out of control" is usually a result of poor management on an organic farm—specifically a lack of diversity or an inappropriate scale. But (sadly) diversity is not required for Certified Organic operations. There are many Certified Organic operations that are basically "organic monocultures" (yes, I too think this is an oxymoron; organizations that give the "certified organic" stamp don't see it that way). But as Michael Pollen points out, although it's not good to farm monocultures, it is better to farm monocultures not using poisons than to farm monocultures using poisons.
For these kinds of "organic" operations that do farm monocultures, Bt is important as an insect control (in a way it isn't for our farm, as insects rarely "get out of hand" on a truly diversified farm). The great fear among these large organic farmers that depend on Bt is that with the amount of Monsanto's Bt-Corn being grown, it is just a matter of time before insects develop resistance to Bt. When that happens, these farms will have nothing to handle insect problems. Non-organic farmers, on the other hand, could just go back to their poisons.
Now that weeds have already, by Monsanto's admission, developed resistance to GMO Roundup-Ready cotton, fears previously considered unjustified by Monsanto that insects too will develop resistance to GMO Bt Corn can only have a much stronger basis. When this happens, the only option for farmers (large, non-diversified "organic" and chemical using farmers) will be an even greater dependence on chemicals, which just happen to be offered by Monsanto. Large organic "monocultures" could be just out of luck.
For my own part, I could wish that organic certifiers would require a level of diversity which would obviate most of the need for Bt. But I'm appalled that the practices of Monsanto and other chemical/GMO companies are creating "super weeds" that are resistant to "normal" poisons, and are very likely on the verge of creating resistance of crops to natural insect controls. This takes from organic farmers the one natural control they have, and will force non-organic farmers to be even more dependent on the chemicals that we believe compromise human, plant, animal and soil life.
So I am very pleased to see a country like India, with such a long and rich accumulation of experience and wisdom, saying "no" to Monsanto.
4. The Plowman's Folly (part one)
For me, farming has become the kind of vocation that is worth the effort of trying to improve. It could be that the desire to improve is at root financial; many financial folks and perhaps even psychologists might say so. But it seems to me that in farming there is a pleasure in achieving a better understanding and practical application of that understanding that transcends pecuniary or even utilitarian motives. It is just plain satisfying beyond measure to become better at understanding and working with nature.
In the US, as in much of the world, there are agricultural techniques that are nothing short of crimes against the soil. I suspect all of us who farm have committed such crimes, knowingly or not, so there's no room for anyone I know (and certainly not myself) to be prideful in this regard. But after a while certain practices begin to wear on one's agronomic sensibilities to the point where you just have to do something.
The common use of the rototiller was one of those practices that became to me like the sound of fingernails traversing a chalkboard. I eventually had to do something about it. Because the goals I had in using the rototiller still had to be achieved, this meant I had to find another way. We finally did that, and have been relieved of one source of internal, agricultural conflict—the rototiller (which we've given away).
There's another practice that has been gradually and incrementally becoming odious: the use of the moldboard plow. When I first started serious farming I had a chance to meet and spend some time with Michael Doctor who was then the manager of the very well known Food Bank Farm of Massachusetts. When our conversation turned to how he started his season each year he admitted that he agonized over what he could find no alternative but to do: using a moldboard plow to plow down the entire farm. He hated doing it, but felt that it was a necessary evil. Yet he also said he'd love to find another way. At the time I couldn't really appreciate his anxiety regarding the plow; now I do.
In case you don't know what a moldboard plow is, it's a device that is pulled behind a tractor (or a horse, ox, donkey, or a strong human being) that angles through the soil in such a way that it rolls the top portion of the soil over and leaves it inverted, with what had been growing on top now below the ground, and what was below now on top. The truth is that what the plow accomplishes is very aesthetically pleasing, as you can start with a field in grass, weeds, or cover crop and end up with a field of nothing but dark soil, looking very much ready to plant. It certainly makes you feel like you've done something!
But many of us who have done this "something" for a while have grown to have concerns about just what it is we're doing. It is pretty well known that most of the "agricultural action" in the soil happens in the top six inches. It is in this area, the "aerobic zone," where most of the microbial life of the soil occurs, along with almost all of the organic matter in the soil, along with all the humus that constitutes the top soil. This is the area where almost all annual crops (most vegetables) get most of their nutrition. It's the area that is biologically active because it gets (by far) the most aeration. So along comes the farmer and his or her moldboard plow, and what happens? The plow neatly takes the entire aerobic zone and buries it under ten inches of subsoil!
This is a classic instance of having to choose between something that is easy and looks good (plowing) and something that is hard (farming without plowing), often looks bad (it's hard to eliminate weeds without plowing), but is better for the soil. This is exactly the kind of thing Plato talked about in his dialogue, the Gorgias. In this dialogue, Socrates (Plato's perennial hero) compares respectively the arts of pastry making and cosmetics to the arts of nutrition and the exercise trainer. The person who makes pastries is (usually) concerned with providing something that looks and tastes good, not with what is actually good for the body. Similarly, the cosmetician is concerned to make a person look good in his or her appearance, whereas the trainer is concerned to create fitness in the body. The trainer provides the substance and reality of that which the cosmetician provides only the appearance, just as the nutritionist provides health while the person who makes pastry provides a tasty but not necessarily nutritious snack.
What, then, is the analog of the nutritionist and the trainer in the field of agriculture? I don't have any allusions that (m)any of you will lose much (any?) sleep over this, but to be honest, it will take a little more time to close the circle on this one. So, . . . "to be continued in our next update: just what is the alternative to the plow?"
5. May Day: May 1st
Each year we hold a May-Day celebration on the first day of May. This year that day happens to be the actually May Day (May 1st). I know it's a long time from now, but I just wanted to mention it now (as I will in subsequent updates) so you can plan to join us for our May Pole and other "rites of spring" activities.
6. Sno-Valley Tilth begins mentoring program
Our group of organic farmers in Snoqualmie Valley (SVT) has wanted for a long time to try to encourage and promote more farming in our valley. We've done this in a variety of ways, but this year we decided to start actively reaching out to people who want to start farming by helping them to find land and by connecting them with successful local farmers who will serve as mentors.
To kick off this effort SVT co-sponsored (with Farm Link) an event here at Jubilee farm two weeks ago. We invited anyone who is interested in farming to join us for a meeting in which we talked about what it takes to start a farm and showed perspective farmers some available land that they could lease and start farming this year. We were blessed with a beautiful day and good attendance for our meeting. From this initial effort we have three new farming ventures that will be starting this spring. It's a small start, but we hope that in time people who want to farm here will find out that there are people who want to help them—people who both know how to farm and know where leasable, farmable land is available.
You may know that the effort of SVT to have King County define agriculture as "food or fiber" failed by the decision of the Agricultural Commission. They certainly heard our request, and we appreciate that. But they decided that agriculture needs to include non-food endeavors (nurseries) and even non-food, recreational industries (equine). Right now equine facilities are growing much faster on land designated for agricultural production (APDs) than food farms, and with the recent decision of the Ag Commission that trend will likely continue and possibly accelerate.
I'm saddened by these prospects both for farmers and for citizens of King County. After all, it was the citizens of King County who chose to tax themselves to preserve farms for agricultural production. It would seem reasonable that the citizens of the County should expect some kind of "agricultural production" as a return on their investment. It turns out that the tax dollars of King County citizens have saved "farmland" for the proliferation of equine facilities.
For my part, since the Ag Commission has sanctioned the eventual displacement of food farms by recreational industries (as has already happened in Enumclaw), it seems like the next best thing we can do is to help train new farmers. We have to do that on leased land, as most land in our valley is being held on speculation. It's pretty clear that recreational uses of the land will bring a higher sales price than agricultural uses will. But even if fledgling farmers have to lease land to learn how to farm, they can at least learn how to farm. They can then move on to other counties that still protect farmland by requiring genuine farm use of such land. We may not get many long-term new farmers here, but we can still train them for other places. That is likely to be the best we can do for now, and it will have to be good enough.
7. Farm Chatter
The February of great promise has hit a bit of a weather snag in early March, but we expect, of course, in the Pacific Northwest to have at least one cold week in March. It looks like it will warm up again this weekend, with even more good weather by the end of next week. That's great for farmers!
We've been very busy with our expanding herd. We had 18 calves late last fall that were sired by a Herford bull. That gives us a lot of cute little red and white and black and white calves with lots of spunk! We also have our 12 calves from the year before which are now yearlings, about a dozen two-year steers, and nearly thirty cows and full-sized, open heifers.
The cows came out of the barn early this year. With the warmer-than-usual January and February, our grass and cover-crops growing well, and the cows sensing that spring had already started, we decided the last week of February it was time. This year was unusual in that all our calves except one were born in the loafing shed. So when they came barreling out in February, it was to a world they had never seen. It's a pretty interesting metaphor.
Although the herd was edgy and wanting "something," actually getting them to leave the barn wasn't easy. No matter what their circumstances, cows (and many of us) often prefer a less-than-desirable situation to the unfamiliar. So it was a bit of an ordeal, and certainly a noisy one, just convincing the cows to leave the loafing shed! But finally we got the last one out and into the holding area, then into the field. At that point, the bovine joy was undeniable: the jumping, frolicking, racing from one end of the field to another went on for a long time.
It turned out that despite the greatest of plans, with everything for the move having been pretty well conceived and most contingencies prepared for, one contingency popped up we weren't prepared for. Our solar hot box, a very expensive one, not old, equipped with a new "hot" battery. . . have you guessed? Yes, it didn't work.
There we were, Wendy, me, Ryan, Ian, and seventy-seven cows. The adults all had serious cases of spring fever; the juveniles (yearlings) were chock-full of "adolescent syndrome" (what we often call, simply, "superfluity of naughtiness"); and the baby calves who had never seen the outside of the loafing shed were going crazy with delight.
You need to remember that although the adults and juveniles have memory of hot wire, the calves had never experience it. They also are short enough that they can easily drop their heads, and, if the wire isn't hot, run right under! And the wire wasn't hot. Oh no! As Ryan and I frantically tried to get the hot box to work, the calves began to make a little game out of running in and out of the pen—much to the consternation of bellowing moms not to mention Ian and Wendy who were frantically racing (in full muck boots) from one end of a fairly large pen to the other trying to keep them in.
I was beginning to feel ill when it finally dawned on me that we weren't going to get the hot box fixed, and that I would have to leave the gang to deal with the cows while I drove to town to get a new fence charger. Yikes! As I made my dash for the car, the calves continued to make their dashes for opposing fence lines, with Wendy, Ryan, and Ian in chase. I made it to town in record time, and was thrilled to see they had one charger on the shelf. But as fate would have it, it turned out to be a 110 volt charger, not the 12 volt charger I need to run off our truck battery.
Now I was beginning to panic. I hoped things back at the farm were better than I feared (it turned out that they weren't), but as I now headed to Issaquah I couldn't convince myself of that. I just kept envisioning the calves and their little game: where to run under the fence?—at the point furthest away from Wendy, Ian, and Ryan, of course! I drove as fast as I dared, got the charger, and headed back in fear of what I might find.
In a way I wish I could have photographed the looks on the faces of the gang when I finally returned. The coats and sweaters of a winter afternoon had long been shed. Feelings of frustration had obviously evolved into something at first like grief and disbelief at their predicament, and finally into something bordering on malevolence. What could I say? My feeble "hi guys" was met with looks of mixed exhaustion, unspeakable resignation, and, well, something else. I guess I was gone for quite a while.
In my absence, the calves had learned something about this new thing called a hot-wire fence: it was a wonderful object of play, clearly designed for the calves' own entertainment. It didn't hurt at all to run into it. And, if they hit it running hard, the plastic fence post nearest the place they hit would make a wonderful "popping" sound and then fall on the ground. Well, something had to give, and it wasn't the wire.
Our normally taut hot wire held by resilient fence posts every 20 feet had obviously been unmercifully attacked. Many posts were broken. The line sagged so low in places that it was easy for the adolescents to jump over it any time they wanted, and of course they wanted to join the calves. As I worked on getting the hot box ready, I saw that the crew had developed a strategy that was somewhat effective, but wearing, as they moved from escapee group to escapee group, trying with varying degrees of success to get them back into the fold.
Finally I gave the call: "it's ready." At that point another little band of by-now quite brazen and completely naughty calves and teenagers made another break for it, and the crew dragged themselves one more time to remediate. Then, "ok, now, turn it on." And I did. The cows and adolescents seem to know immediately that the gig was up. And the calves too seemed to sense something. But it wasn't long before one of them headed for the wire, head down, at the spot furthest from their herdsmen. The moment the calf touched the wire we heard a loud snap. But this time it wasn't one of the few remaining posts snapping; it was the energized wire offering an uncompromising pedagogical message to the calf.
And how exactly did the crew respond to the calf's yelp? Remember that each of them loves nature and especially animals. They had spent the whole winter nurturing and caring for these calves in the loafing shed—even cooing over them when they had first been born. So, what did they do as this poor little calf got a snap and headed back to the middle of the field with its tail between its legs? They CHEERED! And they cheered again when the next calf, a little cautiously now, raised its wet nose to the wire and got a similar jolt. The nightmare was over, and all the bovine, with the fence hot and play-time over, settled in with their heads down to doing what they do best. I suppose we all felt kind of like parents feel after finally getting a colicky, or sick, or unhappy, or overtired, or just plain ornery child to sleep. They looked so peaceful—how could we be mad at them?
I, on the other hand, was completely unable to diminish the completely unfounded conviction of Wendy, Ryan, and Ian that while out to get the charger I had stopped at Starbucks for a leisurely cup of coffee. I (think) I felt their pain; they didn't have much sympathy for mine. In any event, it was an event—one of those days we'll always remember. Someday (not quite yet) we may even be able to look back and laugh about it.
Our best to you all,
Erick and Wendy