AgriCulture: How to Fight a Scourge

Thursday, July 16, 2020: the last in a string of delightfully cool days punctuated by not quite enough rain showers. Eric and I, both fighting cabin fever, decided to try an outing. A talented young clarinetist, Viktor Toth of The Orchestra Now, offered a “Sunset Serenade” from a boat moored in the Rondout Creek at Kingston to an audience seated on a modest little lawn on shore. The unassuming venue was lent a certain monumental air by an impressive train trestle traversing the stream, towering perhaps 100 feet above us.

Attendance was sparse, maybe 40 people. They carefully socially distanced and were so assiduously masked that we felt self-conscious un-masking to eat our picnic dinner. Nevertheless, to enjoy live music outdoors in the mid summer breeze as the sun went down felt an awful lot like one of the outdoor concerts that once made “normal” summer evenings so delightful. After a dispiriting week of plummeting expectations, in which everyone seemed bummed by a pandemic spiraling out of control, perhaps I could be forgiven for imagining that we were moving back toward a pre-COVID normality.

That soupçon of more hopeful times was, it turned out, all the gods would allow me. Overnight, the humidity rose and caused disquieting dreams (No, thank you, I do not want dental work performed on the E train platform at Chambers Street!). And from the moment I awoke Friday, any sense that I was scourge-free vanished.

Shortly before 7 on Friday I toddled out to the vegetable garden to start the sprinkler and pick an order of lacinato kale. I had not paid a whole lot of attention to the kale of late. After I put a small chicken wire fence around it and weeded and mulched the patch a couple of weeks ago, I could see as I passed nearby that it was finally growing and not being chewed down almost nightly anymore. I turned my attention other more pressing garden matters. But upon close inspection Friday morning, it was quickly apparent that the straight leafed lacinato kale, while free of nibbles by hopping herbivores, had been enjoyed by an entirely different pest, in this case sand fleas which ate so many little pin holes in the leaves that they had an airy look, like a Spanish lace fan. I felt it wasn’t saleable and offered the less affected curly leaf kale instead, but it was declined. I felt frustrated by the predations of nature.

From the garden I moved on to the portable chicken pen. The chicks that arrived in the mail about two and a half weeks ago had feathered out and grown enough to be moved outdoors this Monday, and they were happily foraging. I had already moved the pen twice to fresh new grass. This morning, though, I could see right away that something was wrong. As I approached the entire group ran toward the back of the pen, as is their wont, but four up front did not move. They could not, having been reduced to four headless carcasses. Clearly the work of a weasel.

Examining the front of the pen, I realized that when I had last moved it to fresh grass it came to rest on a very slight swale, with the ground dipping an inch or two below the wooden frame. Apparently that small space was enough to allow a weasel access — at least enough to grasp chickens close to the edge, kill them, and take the head. A distressing turn of events. But with a busy work day ahead, it was all I could do to dispose of the carcasses, get a couple of boards to close the gap, and put fortification on my to-do-later-today list. After all, weasel attacks are generally nocturnal .

After a day in the office upstairs, I returned to the portable pen to find another two carcasses, and one chicken with apparently superficial wounds on the side. I was stunned by this daytime “second wave” of the attacking marauder, which (like the second wave of COVID in the summer) wasn’t supposed to happen. In place of the clearly inadequate boards I had put around the base of the pen, I scavenged from around the farm various heavy 6 x 6 blocks of wood, cut-off remnants from a old building project, and placed them at every spot around the pen where there was any daylight between the bottom of the frame and the ground. Uncertain of the enemy I was fighting, I used the weapons I had on hand.

I fed our other critters and headed back to the garden. As I entered, a ground hog was exiting, chewing on what appeared to be a leaf from a newly denuded broccoli plant as it strolled out. The ground hogs had clearly moved on from kale to other brassicas, particularly enjoying the broccoli and cabbage. Now I understand why my crops are so late. Chomped back by the groundhogs, the plants have to keep starting over.

The young ground hog and I both froze and stared at each other. Taking my cue from Lillie, after a few seconds I started barking – or at least yelling at him to get out. That sent him scurrying off through a hole in the fence. I set about creating another chicken wire fence around the broccoli patch, which took me until dusk but which will, I hope, allow us to enjoy some broccoli in August.

While I was working on the broccoli fence who should I notice entering through the open garden gate but one of our large cohort of young rabbits, who seem to be reproducing like, well, rabbits. By that time I was too tuckered out to do anything other than yell at it and close the gate behind it as it ran back out. It’s clear I have many threats to beat back, and success may still put me in a place that’s something less than wonderful. Seems a lot like the larger world out there.

Frustrated and discouraged by forces that threaten my little farm kingdom, it is tempting to just give up and maybe go play golf. Who knows, tomorrow the threats could just disappear? But I do have these small chickens and plants depending on me. And if don’t do anything to protect them, and just hope the problems go away, will anyone think I really deserve another term as farmer?

POST SCRIPT: Saturday, July 18: Shortly before 7, sleeping in a little later, I look out my second story bedroom window at the quickly evaporating mist. Something large scurries up the pine tree, fast and decidedly non-squirrely in its movements. I run to the window and look up as it hangs momentarily by its tail and moves to the next tree. My quick “can weasels climb?” search produces a picture of a long tailed weasel looking remarkably like what I am seeing in the tree. I have met the enemy.

My trek out to the portable pen is full of trepidation. On arrival, I find that the injured chicken has died, but it is not beheaded and no new injuries or deaths have occurred. Have I flattened this curve? This is not Florida; I’m not declaring victory yet.

WHAT’S NEW THIS WEEK:

Gooseberries, $6/pt, many now darker and riper, plenty still green blushing to pink (on the tart side for pie or jam), some riper.

Blackberries – just beginning, so limited quantities, $6/pint

Green shiso leaves $1, pack of 10

Kale, ( curly leaf,) $2/bunch

WHAT’S AVAILABLE THIS WEEK
Gooseberries, $6/pt, some now riper, still many green blushing to pink (on the tart side for pie or jam),
Blackberries just beginning, $6/pint

Green shiso leaves $1, pack of 10
Kale, (curly leaf for now) $2/bunch
Swiss Chard, $3/bag
Purslane, $2/bag
Small White Oasis Turnips $2/bunch
Tiny hot matchbox peppers, $5.00 a string, dried and quite decorative.
Fresh dug horseradish root, $3/lb.
Sorrel, one gallon bag, $3/bag
Mint, $1/ bunch
Garlic chives (the flat kind), $1/bunch
Lambsquarters $2/bag

EGGS: $5/doz

Dill and lettuce are in between waves

MEATS: Have been largely cleaned out during the supermarket shortages of this spring. What is still in stock:

LAMB: a few remaining , leg of lamb $14/lb, lamb shoulder roast $7/lb.

PORK: fresh ham roasts (2 to 3 lbs), $12/lb

Chickens will be available again at the end of summer, additional lamb in early August.

FARM PICKUPS:

Email us your order at [email protected], and let us know when you’d like to pick up your order. It will be put out for you on the side screened porch of the farmhouse (110 Lasher Ave., Germantown) in a bag. You can leave cash or a check in the now famous pineapple on the porch table. Because I’m now here full time, we’re abandoning regular pick-up times. Let us know when you want your order any day between 10 and 5, and unless there are unusual circumstances we’ll be able to ready it to your convenience. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to call or text at 917-544-6464 or email.