Here Mark Scherzer of Turkana Farms laments never being able to get more than 60% of the farm chores done. Yet the photographs he and Peter Davies sent of Turkana as it appears right now belies his claim that a high degree of chaos (40% to be precise) prevails. Makes us wonder: Could it be that 60% is as close as a Type-A achiever is every likely to get to his-or-her goals? And could it be that 60% is close enough, not just for farming but for other endeavors, such as, say, putting out a web-based regional periodical? Worth considering...
I've come to think of farming as a quintessential human endeavor because, almost more starkly than any other activity I've ever engaged in, it represents an effort to impose order on chaos. The May/June period is the one I most associate with chaos—the intense bursting forth of life and rapid growth. We never seem to get done more than about 60% of what we determine is absolutely essential to accomplish in this season. Each step toward order, though, becomes something to take pleasure in. We've been very lucky to be able to make greater strides toward order this year, thanks to our finding two very competent and dedicated farm helpers (the equivalent of nearly one full-time worker) who take the work and the results very seriously. Thus this week, when our personal lives seemed particularly chaotic, there were nevertheless moments in which to savor the emergence of order. First, Peter's gardens. Peter is the aesthete in our house, and his concept of the farm has always included, in the transitional zone from residential to agricultural, decorative gardens. They incorporate some agricultural elements (strawberries grow as a ground cover, as in the photograph at bottom), herbs line the walkway, currants line the driveway, and Jerusalem artichokes border the garage) just as the agricultural areas make room for some purely decorative flowers and trees.
This year, thanks to generous moisture in the winter and spring and plenty of shaping work on Peter's part, the gardens seem just spectacular. Right now, the abundant irises, peonies, roses, and goats beard are putting on an impressive show to the east of the house. At the same time, the rock garden (right) Peter created on a shale shelf to the north is an undulating patchwork of yellow, blue, pink and purple mounds, as the sedums and other drought tolerant plants put on quite a show. Second, "graduation". Yesterday the meat chicks, which had fully feathered out in their brooder bins, moved outside to their portable pen on grass and oats, which will be moved to fresh ground daily. The Toulouse geese have also moved from the hayloft upstairs to the downstairs barn annex, to a large portable pen where they will be contained until they are large enough to be put on pasture. The older ewes born this year will soon move to the front lawn and its adjoining pasture. Third: establishment of the summer's life pattern: Our three adult, year-round resident Chinese geese noted the move downstairs of the young Toulouse geese. And they've repeated their response of last year. They have started hanging out near the pen containing the young geese and have started relating to the little ones. We expect they will again take the little ones under their wings and shepherd them around for the summer teaching them to be geese.
For all the order, there's still plenty of chaos. Last year, our Chinese geese abandoned their own eggs, leaving them to be hatched by the turkeys (leading to a little goose who seemed to think she was a turkey). This year, after a few cold nights on her eggs, and a few nights sharing the nest, our mother goose seems to have yet again turned over her incubating duties, this time to a mallard duck who moved in a couple of weeks ago from across the street and dutifully covers the eggs in hay and straw during the day and broods them at night. This leads me conclude that collaboration is for the birds. Animals' concept of order (if they have one) does not match ours. Also contrary to expectations, our newest heifer calf (top), born May 23, arrived mostly black, with a white stripe down her back, though both the parental cow and bull are pure white. Has there been an interaction with a skunk? Go figure. It gives me some trepidation about what the Tamworth Ossabaw cross pigs, due to be born to Miranda any day now, will look like. Be assured that we'll keep you informed. Later Peter adds: Miranda, of samba fame, gave birth (farrowed) in the night. There are at least nine piglets—hard to count till momma gets up: mostly polka dotted, a few solid black. So, like all mommas, her samba-ing days are over for a while. Now if only Carmen would get her act together.
