Sugar Creek Farm

The barn that was on this farm was old, older than the house, I think. The house was built somewhere between 1875 and 1900, depending on who you ask, but a log house stood somewhere on the farm before that. I know the log house was started in 1851, and I would think the barn came sometime between then and 1875.

It was a bank barn, meaning that one end was built into the side of a hill so the second story at that end was at ground level. At the other end the first story was at ground level.

We’ve been told that this farm was a stagecoach stop. I’ve not found any documented proof of that, although history books do mention that the farm did have travellers stop to drink from the spring (which has since disappeared). But the structure of the barn would seem to support the theory, with wide stalls big enough to store carriages in at the bottom level.

Matt told me not to go poking around in the barn, because it was downright dangerous and unstable. But one day the wind had blown a door open and I spied an old wooden ladder inside. I asked him to retrieve it for me, and he did, but not without comments like, “What do you want this old thing for?! It’s covered in pigeon poop!” I cleaned it up and now it’s in our living room displaying quilts made by my grandma and great-grandma, and his foster mom. I’m sure glad I have it now.

On August 22, 2000 I was working in my office upstairs when one of those summer afternoon thunderstorms rolled through. There was a deafening crack of lightning, which killed my computer, and shortly everything cleared off and the sun was out again.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. In that understated way people in rural Iowa have, the guy at the door asked, “Did ya know your barn’s on fire?”

The fire department was called, not in the hopes of saving it, but simply to control the burn. Its dry wood and old hay went quick.

12:26 p.m.

12:34 p.m.

12:41 p.m.

7:13 p.m.

Not much going on around here this week. Winter has returned as we dip back down to high temps in the low to mid 30’s.

At the PFI conference last month I attended a session on financials given by Mike Hansen of Good Earth Farms in Wisconsin. His business does lots and lots of mail order shipment of chicken, turkey, beef, pork and lamb. It’s what inspired me to start looking into doing some of that ourselves.

So for your Friday Funny, go over to his website and check out the picture on this page.

Yes, those are real live chickens spelling out the words “Eat Beef” with a big arrow pointing to the innocent-looking herd of Belted Galloways.

Now that’s putting the fun in farming!

I have one customer that never picked up his chicken order so… If you’re up for a road trip I have 15 fresh frozen chickens for sale here at the farm. Email me if you’re interested.

I can also ship frozen chickens (or pork or beef) within the state of Iowa. I’ve never done it before, so I would have to find out costs and such. I know it involves a styrofoam cooler, dry ice, and Fedex Overnight. Email me if you’re interested.

And I’d also like to hear if there is any interest from those outside the state of Iowa in purchasing beef, pork or chicken and having it shipped. The only change we’d have to make is to use a federally inspected processor rather than our state inspected processors. But I’d want to know what interest is out there before we make that change.

You can email orders, questions, or comments to:

themillers92 (at) osage (dot) net

I mistyped in the last post when I said the hogs finished at 270 pounds in 133 days. That should have been 163 days. (Total, from birth.) Now Walter can’t be quite as impressed.

I stopped at the locker after lunch and our butcher said they looked good, better than the last batch. Our locker (and all of the lockers around here) is so busy that we had trouble getting the last batch in when we wanted, so they were a little too fat. These should be perfect.

Matt got a smoker for Christmas. Can’t wait to try some smoked chops!

This afternoon it was time to load the hogs up and take them to the butcher. Yes, I do get a little sad and feel a bit traiterous. I’m grateful for their gift to us as food, and we give them the best life we possibly can while they’re in our care.

Before we dropped them off we swung by the elevator. Sometimes the scale is turned around for the weekend, so that you can see it from outside. That way farmers can drive onto the scale and weigh for themselves when the elevator is closed.

First we weigh with the hogs on the trailer. The weight of truck, trailer and hogs was:

Matt and I both guessed what they’d weigh. He thought 265, I thought 275.

After we’d unloaded them, we weighed again:

So with 8 hogs, the average weight per hog was 270 pounds! Not bad for outdoor-raised pigs, 133 163 days old.

Now we’ll guess what the hanging weight will be. Matt thinks they’ll cut out at 70 to 73%, I think 65 to 68%. We’ll know in a day or two.

The tax man cometh. A friend gave us an older version of QuickBooks, so I’ve been working this week entering all of 2005. Finished up tonight, and will get everything else organized this weekend and ready to go to the lawyer next week. The good news is that we lost less money on the farm than we did last year. We’re making progress, I guess. Overall we’re fairly happy with the numbers, considering all of the death loss we had this year.

As if taxes were not enough stress for the week, on Tuesday a guy drove his truck into the side of my car. Thank God no one was hurt. When we got stopped I turned to look at Rafe. He looked like he was trying to decide whether to cry or not and he said, “That man smashed into our car!”. Rafe was sitting in his carseat next to the rear driver-side door, and the truck hit right behind that.

I had the right-of-way, so his insurance company supplied me with a rental car. The adjustor totalled out my car, so tomorrow we’ll be car shopping. Yuck.

If summer has its dog days, then winter has its cow days. The cows spend these gray, dreary winter days lying about doing a whole lot of nothing.

Wish I could say the same. Actually it felt good to have such a productive weekend. Much cleaning and organizing and bagging up things for Goodwill.

And I got garden seeds ordered. We used Vermont Bean Seed Company, Seed Savers Exchange, and Baker Creek this year. I think at least 90% of the seeds we ordered this year are heirloom varieties. Should be fun. Can’t wait to get the seed starting rack filled up. Matt wants me to teach him how to start seeds this year. I think I’ll start him out washing and sanitizing cell packs and trays. [evil grin] I hate that job. I’ll be glad to have a hand making newspaper pots this year. That’s a time-consuming task.

This farm was never set up for raising hogs. So we’ve created a makeshift home for them in 2 large horse stalls in the cattle shed, plus this outdoor area. It’s wet. It’s cold. It’s muddy. And these are incredibly healthy hogs. A hog bred for leanness and for being raised in confinement would take one look at these accomodations, catch pneumonia, flop over and die on the spot.

I like raising hogs and would like to raise more. I’ve looked at the different niche markets, contemplating expanding our 1-sow, 1-boar herd. Most of these niche markets prefer, or even require, partial or full Berkshire breeding. But on the drive home from the PFI Conference I came to the conclusion that we’re really doing something right here. These Large Black crosses have been amazing for us. So we’re not going to change. We’re going to play to our strengths and market what we have.

So we’ll stick with the Large Black boar. I’ve been doing a bit of research on other breeds that might cross well with the Large Black. We would like a bit larger frame on the cross. So I’m thinking Chester Whites. A large breed with good mothering ability, suitable to raising outdoors, good litter size. Perhaps a CW cross, though I’m not sure what cross. Duroc, maybe?

I’m a complete pig breeding novice. Any pig experts out there want to give me an opinion? Or know where I can buy bred gilts?

Saw Walk the Line tonight at our smalltown Watts Theatre. Man oh man. Loved it. I’ll be downloading me some Johnny Cash tomorrow.

Even though it makes me sad to see how badly people mess up their lives, especially with drugs and alcohol, I loved how singing and writing and performing were just something he had to do. He couldn’t not do it. I feel that way about our little farm. Even though some days it drives me crazy and some days I mess it up.

It really made me miss playing with the band, even more than I do already.

It brought back some of my favorite memories from when I was little. My dad’s side of the family loved music, and most times that we got together we sang. There’s a picture of me, wish I had it here so I could scan it in and post it, at about 4 years old. It was Christmas at my Grandma & Grandpa Mehmen’s and I’m singing into a microphone. I don’t remember what I sang, but it was probably Sneaky Snake, You Are My Sunshine, or maybe even Jesus Loves Me. I do remember how that microphone felt in my hands, so heavy and cold to the touch.

It made me glad that my girls are carrying on the music.

I’m lucky to have some record albums recorded by my uncle’s band, The Rockin’ R’s. And really lucky that these albums record not only my aunt and uncle singing but also my Grandpa Mehmen and Aunt Judy, both of whom have passed away.

I loved this movie for the music, the music of part of my childhood, the memories of good times when we were all young and happy and together. At least that’s how I remember it, from my 4-year-old perspective. Someone said there is no reality, only perception. Or something like that.

That’s what I loved about being in the band. For me it wasn’t about being in the spotlight, or getting out of the house on Saturday nights. It was about playing music that I loved for other people, making them happy for awhile, perhaps evoking happy memories of their own.

Now what I want to do is go sit at my piano and play long into the night. But the eggs and the dishes and sleep call.

I don’t know enough about the differences between Americauna’s and Araucana’s to know what we have, or if I even spelled those right. So we just call them Easter Eggers.

I do know they give us pretty eggs in shades from light blue to turquoise to olive green, making for a colorful carton of eggs when mixed with browns and the occasional white egg.

The hens themselves come in a variety of colors. My favorite is one that’s pure white and looks almost dove-like. But she’s quite shy and I’ve not been able to get a good picture of her.