Posts Tagged ‘Meat Birds’
Celebrating the Month of Hallows
I’m sure I’ve mentioned how much I love fall at least a time or two, but it’s true. I love the way the air smells on an early foggy morning, the way it fills your lungs when you take a deep breath; the way it smells earthy and robust in the evening, like rich compost. I love the way the sun glints and sparkles over the dew on spider webs and grass as I head out to the barn to feed the critters in the morning; the way it bounces gold and orange across a late afternoon sky, just before it sets. I love the color of the leaves as they turn red and brown; yellow and gold, I love gathering firewood, picking pears, making soup and tasting fresh pressed cider. Yep, fall is my season, no doubt about it.
It’s not the fall of department stores though. You won’t find skeletons or graveyards or scary, gross, bloodied or battered images on my farm, nary a one. My fall is the fall of old, of old European traditions when autumn meant celebrating the end of summer, a harvest put up and a long winter ahead. This is my fall, color and fruit and hearty meals and warm satisfying drinks. It’s a time when part of the garden is put to bed and part is planted with winter hearty seeds. It is a time to reflect on the past and look forward to the future. It’s a time for quiet and peace.
My first weekend of October started off with an early departure from work. The drive home was slow and relaxing, my mind wandered from freeway to highway to slow country road. When I finally arrived at the farm I set about watering and feeding, a much easier task since the barn is empty of lambs and meat birds; only the chickens remain. The berries are just about done for the year and our unusually hot summer means we may not have the cool late evening breezes.
Once finished in the barn and back in the house I set out pumpkin spice candles on the mantel, in the kitchen and on various tables around the house. I love the scent they give off and the glow they lay over the house is beyond serene. I pulled out the primitive paintings of New England fall days, treasures from a trip to Vermont years ago. These are my October decorations.
It seemed like I had barely fallen asleep when sis and I were awake and off to a vintage fair up the coast. I love combing the stalls looking for useful old tools and gadgets, or new additions to the kitchen ware. I never pass up an opportunity to add to my gardening and farming collection either.
The long day left little to the imagination in the way of dinner. After a quick trip to the barn to collect the day’s bounty of eggs I was in the kitchen grilling lamb chops, making mashed potatoes and sautéing green beans, a simple dinner for a simple season.
Sunday was all about the farm and fall. We left the house early to gather a cord of firewood, adding to the stack that will be warmth and ambiance all winter, and found a tree full of fall pears, we picked a few. By mid-morning we were home, setting a new batch of seeds into rich warm compost. Our growing season is long and my goal is to have a productive winter garden. My greenhouse/potting shed is fully enclosed and all my gardening tools, supplies and implements go inside before the weather really turns. It is also my place to think and plant and read and plan. During a short break we lunched on leftovers and filled the crock pot with the makings of a hearty split pea soup; the start of a freezer full of easy meals.
It was afternoon when our arms began to feel the strain of swinging a hammer and pounding nails through metal as we repaired some siding on the greenhouse. We pushed on though until the job was finished, then we sat back and admired our handy work. There’s nothing better than working hard in the cool of a fall day. It invigorates you, makes you feel like Paul Bunyan. But, smarter heads prevailed and rather than risking injury by pushing on we quit for the day.
When I had showered and rested a bit I made a favorite fall treat— Apple Pecan Gingerbread. The aroma floated through the house while it baked, that, coupled with the scent and glow of the candles made the perfect ending to my first weekend of October. I can only hope they all turn out this wonderful.
Apple Pecan Gingerbread
Ingredients:
5 tablespoons butter, melted, plus more for greasing
3/4 cup chopped pecans
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons buttermilk
1/3 cup unsulphured molasses
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
1 egg
1-1/4 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 tablespoon ground ginger
1-1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 Firm cooking apple like Fuji or Gala apple, peeled, cored and chopped fine
Directions:
Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease an 8-inch loaf pan with butter.
In a large bowl, whisk together buttermilk, molasses, sugar, butter, vanilla and egg.
In a second large bowl, combine flour, ginger, baking soda and pecans. Add apples and toss well.
Stir flour mixture into molasses mixture and then spoon batter into pan. Bake until cooked through and a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean, about 45 – 50 minutes.
Let cool in pan for 30 minutes and then invert onto a plate and serve warm or at room temperature.
Raising Meat Chickens in Suburbia
From Day Old to Dinner Entrée – If you want to make sure the chicken in your oven is raised well and processed humanely –Raise them yourself!
Most of my friends cringe when I tell them that we raise our own meat chickens and my daughter NEVER tells her friends for fear they will avoid eating over. But, this relatively simple process has become an integral part of our suburban homestead and food storage plan.
I’ve always had laying hens to provide us with eggs for the table and manure for the garden. And, when the girls were too old to lay they got to live out their life scratching around for bugs, churning up the soil and adding manure where ever they went; a mutually beneficial relationship I think.
It wasn’t until my friend Sandy bought and raised her first batch of meat birds that I really started to get interested in raising our own chickens for meat. But, raising 50 chicks seemed a bit too ambitious for a beginner, not to mention someone who lived in suburbia. So, several years ago I began by raising 8 Cornish/White Rock crosses, usually referred to as Cornish Rocks. These fast growing birds are the same breed raised commercially and sold to restaurants and supermarkets either as whole birds or in cut-up parts.
My test project was a huge success! All 8 chicks lived to their 8-week maturity, were healthy and seemingly happy, and the processing of the birds was nothing like I had imagined. When the project was over and we were feasting on own homegrown chicken, juicy and full of flavor I was determined that meat chickens would be an annual crop raised on our little suburban homestead. Read the rest of the story »
Winter Meat Birds
Five weeks ago our winter batch of meat birds arrived, a replacement batch for the ill-fated group that ended up being a nice meal for a mama opossum and her babies instead of us. Fortunately this batch has been uneventful, just growing big and doing what meat birds do—eat, drink and poop…lots of poop.
We usually raise two batches each year, but now that Brianne is off at college I’m figuring out how to live, cook and farm as a single person. If I raise them up to about 6 pounds I can cut them in half, which will give me 30 meals. But, if I quarter them or cut them into parts I can make those 15 birds go even farther.
Raising fall birds is a nice option in our area. The weather is warm enough that the chicks only need a heat lamp at night, and since we don’t have the searing heat of summer the chicks grow easily without any stress from the heat. We do have to pay closer attention to the weather though. A sudden cold snap makes it necessary to keep chicks warm all day long until they are feathered out.
With the festivities and cooking of Thanksgiving over I concentrated on some needed farm chores. Gates were moved and fixed. The barn was cleaned. And, the chicks were moved out of the garage and into the barn where they will stay until butchering time. Fence panels that will contain the birds were put up, straw laid down, automatic waterers installed, feeders set up and finally, two at a time, the chicks were moved.
The 8-foot by 8-foot pen will allow the chicks more room to move around, but will also protect them from the elements.
The hens and goose were not quite sure about their new roomies, but by later afternoon everyone had gotten use to each other and the meat birds had settled in nicely.
By the time Christmas rolls around I’ll have a freezer full of chicken.
The late afternoon was spent cooking down the turkey carcass to make batches of meat and broth, the beginnings of soup, casseroles or pot pies. The remains of the breast meat was cut away and saved for sandwiches and salads, while two large stock pots bubbled on the stove full of bones, herbs, veggies and broth. When the pots had simmered for more than 30-minutes the carcass parts were placed on a cutting board to cool before the meat was stripped away. Once cleaned, the carcass had yielded more than six cups of meat. Stored in 3-cup freezer containers the turkey and broth will be the perfect amount for small-batch cooking.
It always amazes me how much meat can be cleaned for those simmered down bones.
Figuring Out Fall
Daylight peers over the horizon on a breeze of hot August air as I lay in bed contemplating the coming fall. The plans I had for getting ready for fall have been put on hold, at least while the temps push towards triple digits. With Brianne moving to college and the loss of an extra pair of hands I’m nervous that all I need to accomplish won’t get done in time. Even though we often have Indian Summers that last into October I’m still scared. But, if I know one thing it is that you reap what you sow. If I concentrate on the negative instead of the positive only negativity will enter my world, so I stay upbeat about what I have done and what I can do to get ready for winter.
So, here’s where we are. The greenhouse has a floor and windows; a door and framed sides, but no roof, at least not yet. Every day, from the break of dawn until the temperature drives me inside I work on enclosing the greenhouse using clap board I found on Craigslist. Once finished I will have all my gardening supplies in one place and will start seeds for a fall garden.
A new batch of meat birds are scheduled for early September. A replacement for the ill fated early summer batch that went to the opossums or were put down for safety’s sake.
And, if all goes well this time I’ll have a freezer full of chicken before we celebrate Halloween and eating homemade pot pies when the weather changes.
On the firewood front—I have about ½ cord laid in, but need 3 more to keep my house warm and homey during the winter months. With Brianne taking her truck with her to school the process of getting firewood and transporting it will be slow, but like the tortoise, it will get done, eventually. Labor for heat, not a bad trade-off.
I am taking stock of my pantry and supplies laid by and plan to bring in more staples before prices increase. Staples are at the top of my list and I’m hoping to trade avocados and lemons for some pork raised by a friend.
Good news! looks like my hard fought for refi will go through, finally, decreasing my mortgage by several hundred dollars. I’m also reevaluating other expenses and crunching down where I can. We’re not hard up, never really have been, but I have future plans to move to a less populated place in the country (more on that as it unfolds). Anything I can save is money that stays in the bank, to pay off my house and work towards my own freedom. It may seem like dog paddling, but my head is above water and that’s success in its own right.
All these projects are slow to progress, but they do progress. It’s all figured out in my logical head in the bright light of day, but come the darkness of night emotions and uncertainty seep in, shaking my confidence. I try not to go there. As long as I put one foot in front of the other I feel in control. Everything will be done. I know it. I have family and friends to help with the big stuff and gladly they are willing to do so. I was feeling unsure last night, but I’m not going there tonight. I have me list, my plan and a nice cup of chamomile tea to carry me through.
I’m staying the course, folks. Nothing will slow me down.
Opossum Update
The opossum problem I wrote about last week has finally been resolved. We caught the mamma last Friday night and each night since we have caught one of her litter. Finally, last night, after setting traps every night, the trap was empty for the second night in a row. So, I think we’ve caught and relocated all of the juvenile youngins – 6 in all.
Because of the attack and the uncertainty over whether or not the remaining meat chickens have been exposed to rabies they were destroyed. An expensive loss for our small homestead, but a necessary one. No sense in taking any chances.
Another mystery has also been solved. From the first night we caught the mamma opossum our egg production has gone up. After not getting any eggs for weeks and thinking my girls were too old and needed to be replaced we are now getting 5 to 6 eggs a days. A pleasant turn about.
Plans are in the making for another batch of meat birds and new ideas for more secure meat bird housing is also in the works. So – come September we’ll be back in the chicken business, and none too soon either. The freezer is getting a little thin where poultry is concerned.
Charwoman, House Maid, Scullery Maid, Stock Tender, Gardener, Mom, Writer
It’s an unusual thing to wake up in this farmhouse after the sun has risen. This is not an uncomfortable event by any means, but at 6:00AM the sky is still black, the chickens still asleep and the houses around the neighborhood still void of light. But this morning was different. The alarm went off and I slept right through it. When I finally woke, a sliver of sun was gleaming below a clear blue sky, something we haven’t seen in days.
Strange mornings like this aside, my first task of the day is that of a charwoman. I step out into the cold morning in a thick pair of Vermont wool socks and slide into a pair of muck boots. The ready woodpile is not far from the door, but on a frigid morning at dawn the winter temps are shocking. I gather my wood, collected and stacked back in October, and set it on the fire grate in a box pattern; two vertical pieces topped by two horizontal. I light the fire and when it catches I add more wood. With a fire crackling like a blast furnace I can feel the chill recede from the house and I head outside to tend to a waking barn.
My job changes from charwoman to stock tender.
The hens are first on my caretaker rounds. With the flip of a latch, Sophia begins a chorus of honks that shatters the early morning quiet. She runs for freedom with a coop full of chickens trailing behind. I step inside, pull the lid off the grain barrel and fill the hanging feeder with lay pellets. As a treat, I toss a few scoops of leftover sheep feed from our earlier show season. Troughs are emptied and re-filled with fresh water. Then I turn to the rabbit, topping off his metal feeder with pellets and replacing his water bottle. When there are lambs in the barn or a batch of meat birds, the morning routine takes longer.
Lambs must be separated and fed their individual rations. Show lambs, unlike lambs raised for the table, are carefully monitored for rate of gain, weight and finish so they are in perfect condition for their run to champion. The lambs will jump and kick and frolic when let loose from their night time prison, eventually running into their individual feeding pens, knowing what waits ahead. You can’t blame the boys for knowing what they want or having the spirit to demand it.
With chickens running free, the goose occupied, lambs chomping, rabbit contented and meat birds pecking, I am down to the last task of the morning.
I grab a hose and set the nozzle to shower. I drag it from bed to bed watering winter greens and dampening the soil around the new berry patch. The bed I transplanted more than a month ago is doing well, even if their biological clock tells them to go dormant.
The brood, flock, herd, passel and beds seem strong and at ease going into winter. There’s not much activity on the poultry breeding front. All the better I think. I’d rather hatch chicks in the bright light of spring then on a blustery day in winter.
Last ditch tasks are attended to. Potted gardens are watered, salt licks replaced if need be, cats fed and watered, eggs collected, barn tided and tools hung on hooks. The farm is ready…ready to go about its business of making meat, eggs, wool, and vegetables. In a few months baby chicks will be on the way, along with lambs, ducklings, turkeys and maybe kits. The idea of a French duck cassoulet or smoked turkey sounds amazing. This whole morning thing takes about 30 minutes…20 if I hurry or Brianne helps. I return to the house and a fire that beat down the cold now makes the house feel like a thousand degrees.
My next job is housemaid and cook. I set a pot of water on the stove for tea and hot chocolate, and heat up skillets for scrambled eggs, bacon and French toast. While pots bubble and blurp, I tend to dishes and laundry; and after all that…sit down to a fresh made meal from local fields and our farm. It’s a satisfying thing to cook what you grow and grow what you want to cook.
My last job of the morning, and most enjoyable, is writer. After dishes are done I see to emails and open up a word document to capture any writing ideas that pop into my head, so they won’t be lost in the flurry that is putting words to paper. I enjoy writing about our little homestead and encouraging others to pursue this life, even in the suburbs or cities; teaching how this farming thing can work and how living with seasons and animals and crops has always made me feel more whole, awakened new pleasures and purpose in me even after all these years. They are days of blessings; a life of blessings.
That is a weekend morning for this homesteader. The chores will change with the seasons, with the animals and with the needs of the farm, not the farmer. The warmer months can easily have more jobs in a weekend than can be managed, many revolving around chicks and lambs and gardens. But, in this time, between the warm nights and longer days, I am a charwoman, house maid, scullery maid, stock tender, gardener, mom, and writer. It is work that fills my heart long before the sun rises and long after it sets; and I am glad for the places it takes me.
Winter Solstice
Tomorrow, December 21st marks the winter solstice, the first day of winter, that moment in time when days begin to grow longer and the nights become shorter. This is a great marker on the calendar for me because it reminds me that spring is just a few months away. Our winter is still in full swing here on the farm though. The second set of storms has been pounding the area. Six inches of rain in just 2 days with no end in sight. It makes me wonder if I should be building an Ark rather than sitting at the kitchen table laying out the plans for my spring garden.
The girls (hens) are none to happy either. Last week they were prowling around the yard in search of worms and other bugs brought to the surface by the cool damp weather, but the last few days they’ve been hold up in the barn, not brave enough to venture out into the downpour. My plans to butcher our batch of meat birds have also succumbed to the weather and will be rescheduled for early January.
It’s still a magical time, despite the weather. One year is put to bed and put behind us while another stretches out before us, pushing above the surface like early spring peas.
photo credit: brianfuller6385
Belonging is a State of Mind
The other day I walked into our local feed store needing to buy chick starter for our new batch of meat birds. As I strolled the isles looking over new arrivals and favorite old items I overheard a woman at the register asking Gary about raising chickens. They were the typical questions all new chicken raisers ask.
But this time was different. In the isle that stocks the horseshoeing supplies two men scoffed at the innocence of her questions. You know the tone. The one reserved for newbie livestock owners or out-of-towners who buy a few acres with the idea of growing their own food. I’m sure they meant nothing by it. When your family has raised cattle here for a hundred years and you spent your life on the back of a horse you might find it humorous not knowing how to raise a chicken, or any small livestock for that matter, but it struck a cord with me.
Once upon a time…a long time ago I too was that lady asking those very same questions. I smiled as I walked by them, but it has taken me a while to get to this point. For new farmers it can feel downright unsettling; thinking you’re the butt of all jokes or a worn out stereotype at the local café where the “ole timers” hang out.
It seems to be the old long-time local vs. the new beginner divide that makes so many new farmers or homesteaders feel out of place. Think about it…if you’re fresh out the back of beyond with city lights and pubs that stay open till dawn…you have good reason to feel separated from the locals. It took me years to crack the surface and even more before I felt like “one of them”. But I can tell you this with certainty – Don’t let it affect you. Do not let who you are now stop you from becoming who you want to be. Embrace the difference and let it be part of where you are heading. Read the rest of the story »
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