Author of Finding Lights in a Dark Age, Saying NO to a Farm-Free Future and A Small Farm Future
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Posted on May 28, 2015 | 18 Comments
Today a few musings prompted by a characteristically thoughtful and lyrical post on haymaking by Brian Miller.
As Brian points out, there’s really no comparison between the speed of hand or indeed horse-powered haymaking and what can be achieved even by a small 45hp tractor, let alone by a big one. The way that’s worked out in ‘developed’ country farming on a straightforward cost accounting basis is that fiscal output over fiscal input favours the tractor every time, and it also favours the big tractor over the small one, which is why the agricultural landscape in so many ‘developed’ countries looks like desert(ed) steppe. We tend to slip into talking about this kind of agriculture as being ‘efficient’. It may be so financially, but not necessarily in terms of carbon, energy or social accounting. I’ll be dealing with that issue in more detail in an upcoming post, aka ‘the Vallis Veg grass cutting experiment’.
But what I want to focus on here is some of my dilemmas around the classic agricultural balance between grass and tillage cropping (or ‘horn and corn’ as they used to say in these parts). Granted, nowadays both arable and livestock/grass farmers tend to rely on imported synthetic fertiliser and the grass farmers often plough and sow short-term temporary ryegrass leys, but in a classic mixed agricultural situation with few external inputs you’d go for a mix of permanent pasture, temporary grass and cropland. My 18 acre site was all permanent grass when I started – now it’s about 2 acres of vegetables, 7 acres of woodland/wood pasture and 9 acres of grass.
I’ve only recently established a small flock of sheep on the site, having finally got the green light to live here. I’m still basically just a glorified veg gardener, but I’ve been enjoying having the sheep around. The birth of my first set of lambs this spring was pretty special. God, it’s a lot of work though: and I was even thinking of getting a house cow at one point…
So now, how should I best manage my own little mixed farming experiment? A lot of people (especially if they’re vegan) say that livestock farming is land-inefficient, and we ought to trim it back and focus on direct human plant food. Fair enough, but I’d raise a few queries. First, 2 acres of veg is more than enough to keep me busy, especially on our rather poor, alkali soil where the best parts are already under cultivation. You could argue that we should therefore turn the rest of the land over to other people to do something more productive with it – which to some extent is what we’ve done, but we’ve found those arrangements aren’t 100% straightforward and in any case people aren’t exactly queuing up to become commercial fruit or veg growers. Trying to help out younger people who want to get a start in farming is definitely part of my longer terms plans, however. And so is more thought on private and collective land management – some posts coming up on that soon.
Another issue somewhat elided in the ‘just grow food crops’ argument is how to get enough fertility into your cultivated ground if you’re not importing synthetic fertility from offsite (we can – and I have – argue about how much need there is in the world for synthetic fertiliser. But drowning in an ocean of artificial fertility as we are here in southern Britain, and with significant downstream nitrate and phosphate pollution, personally I can’t see good arguments other than possibly financial ones for a small market garden startup to use synthetic fertiliser as a first resort). You can go the vegan organic route with temporary clover leys like Tolly’s interesting system, but then you’ve got quite a lot of forage that you’re just cutting with a tractor – if you’re not vegan, why not graze it too? The trouble is, I find in practice that a market garden is quite an intensive system: I’ve got raised no dig beds (of which more anon), polytunnels, all sorts of irrigation kit, seedlings etc. so I don’t really want a bunch of woolly grass munchers blundering around amongst it all. Hopefully in the future I’ll be able to set things up so that I can graze them out in my field crop rotations (more bloody fencing…) – but it’d have to be limited to a short period in the spring when there are no crops in the ground. I like the Hampshire Downs idea of grazing the sheep out in the wildlands during the day and then bringing them down into the fields at night. But again not easy to make work in practice – and obviously quite a low output system. I suppose there are confinement or cut-and-compost options too, but in practice it seems to me that using ruminants as nutrient vectors for an intensive market garden isn’t an easy stunt to pull off.
Oh well – maybe I should be happy just having them on the grass and keeping the pasture ticking over. That brings a few more dilemmas (life is full of them, no?) At this time of year the grass growth is so rampant that my flock can’t keep up, whereas winter is more problematic. The obvious thing to do is to make hay or silage like Brian, but I’m not sure I can quite justify getting a drum mower, hay bob and baler, all just for my ram and six ewes. And contractors are a pain. Here in warm, moist Somerset the grass grows virtually all year round and the sheep just about got by on it through the winter. I did make a little hay by hand – scythe, rake and wheelbarrow into the shed. But the sheep were none too keen on it, or indeed on the nice green bale I bought at the farm merchants. I noticed that, being unbaled, my own hay had its fair share of mouse droppings in it (despite the fact that the cat seemed to spend most of the winter asleep on top of it), and it didn’t feel so grand feeding it to the sheep. Not sure I’m up for making hay again by hand this summer. I think I like the idea of a foggage system, supplemented with a bit of bought in hay and maybe some concentrate for the pregnant ewes. Perhaps not the best way to get the most out of the grass, but most isn’t always best. I like all the insects, and the voles and raptors we have on site – plus our campers too, our most lucrative form of livestock, in the wild wood pasture.
One final sheep issue. I’m not sure what the balance of shepherding wisdom on this is, but I vaccinated my sheep against pulpy kidney and clostridial diseases under veterinary advice – all but one lamb, which is reserved for a valued customer who is not a fan of vaccination. His view, if I don’t misrepresent it, is that the adjuvants used in vaccines can be quite toxic, that the risk-immunity tradeoff is not good, that overuse of vaccines has similar consequences to overuse of antibiotics, and that the medical and veterinary industries are – how can I put this – fleecing us. I’m possibly with him on the latter point at least – after trawling the web for information on the incidence of said diseases I found very little, except for one piece claiming 50% lamb mortality prior to the advent of vaccines. For me personally, I’m pretty happy to be up with my tetanus jabs, but (especially for the small-scale shepherd) there’s a slightly more brutal cost-benefit calculus involved with the lambs, given that they’re off to the abattoir in just a few months. And so my question: to jab or not to jab?
Meanwhile I’ve been reading George Monbiot’s tirade against intensive meat farming. And his book Feral is in the in-tray: I gather it involves a tirade against extensive meat farming. I guess George just doesn’t like meat. I’m actually a great admirer of his writing, though I do think he tends to blame farmers themselves a little too much for the dysfunctions of the food system. Also in the in-tray is Philip Walling’s Counting Sheep, and James Rebanks’ The Shepherd’s Life, which has become a minor literary sensation. I’m glad that some books about farming are intruding upon the obsessional recent trend for nature writing in Britain, even if I’m troubled that these guys may have stolen my schtick. Maybe once I’ve let George, Philip and James argue it all out I’ll be able to answer some of my dilemmas. But feel free to add your tuppenceworth below.
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I really haven’t got a tuppenceworth of thought regarding proper sheparding of wool laden critters. I’ve always heard about their suspect health and need of protection against predators. Brian seems to be having some success with them. A soybean research colleague in Indiana is a partner in a purebred sheep enterprise on the side. They seem to make a little money from selling breeding individuals, but from conversation it sounds as though they wouldn’t be breaking even if they were only selling meat and wool (and wool apparently is more a liability here than an asset… but there’s me pretending to have half a tuppence to offer on the matter).
Where the analytical part of me wants to offer a penny or two would be in the area of calculating appropriate scale between various parts of the whole enterprise. This is a pretty tricky business – and Brian would be better suited to help on the sheep end – but if you can learn your way into regular sheparding and have a lamb market for more than six ewes can reasonably produce then the calculus for valuing haying equipment starts to take shape. You have a fixed land area and I take it access to other land resource is either impossible or too difficult? If you recon (figure?? 🙂 ) a certain size pasture and the value of hay from a cutting or two (whilst keeping it in grazing order)… you might come to an estimated hay supply and against that you count how many sheep you can carry (but don’t fall asleep while counting). Carrying capacity… its wonderful on paper. But some seasons will better for the grass than others. When you miss judge one end or the other you find yourself looking to sell excess bales – or – buy in some to carry you after poorer seasons. And all this hay buying and selling takes you away from your strength of vege production and marketing. Comparative advantage, markets, and capitalism – sounds a bit like ‘lions, and tigers, and bears.. .oh my…
But you are a smart one, I trust you’ll reckon this out.
Is it just me, or did I notice a different sir name for Mr Miller in an earlier peek at this post?
We have struggled recently with an effort to market mutton. Mutton is central to our business plan of a full-circle sheep rearing. But it is a hard slog to find customers. We just took six ewes to market and received a fraction of what we have earned for selling them as meat to customers. But needs must outweigh wishes.
Well, thanks for the nod to my piece.
That piece was re-posted on the resilience.org site. I seldom get much in the way of comments. So I followed with interest the 20 or so responses and debate that followed. Most seem to have missed the main thrust, which may be the fault of the writer. That is that fossil fuels shape our work day in ways we are no longer aware.
There were a lot of grand claims involving year round grazing, solar replacing all our energy needs, gasification plants running on a fraction of the hay harvested, etc. etc. All valuable in their place. But, as I suspect not a recipe for powering the world as it exists. And much seemingly argued from the prospective of keeping our privileged place as an individual independent of any real community. An illusion of being truly self-sufficient.
Like you and some others often point out there really is no substitute for fossil fuels in maintaining the same level of growth or civilization as currently “enjoyed.” And what might be the result in their absence. I, for one, am all too aware of the inputs that are required to run our “self-sufficient/sustainable” farm (it is neither).
But the social accounting, as you put it, is the issue of most interest. Much of the literature about sustainable farming focuses on an alternative technological fix that allows the individual to sustain their way of life. I tend to suspect that as the years progress we are going to need to recall the older traditions of mutual aid. Maybe we need to spend a bit of time with the Amish, or at the very least with our copies of Kropotkin.
So, how will most of the current developed world adjust to a more cooperative and small “d” democracy? Not well and with much foot dragging.
On the ag-lit front: I’ve been rereading W.H. Hudson’s The Shepherd’s Life and Oyler’s The Generous Earth. The latter is a mid-twentieth century look at French peasant culture that dovetails nicely with the need for mutual aid in a small farm community. Hudson’s book is just great writing of the sort that you Brits used to be able to churn out as reliably as butter.
Cheers,
Brian
You know Brian – Hudson spends some time talking about Shepherds and their dogs. Dogs working sheep is likely one of agriculture’s older practices. So training a dog to help with hay making seems only a natural progression. And just imagine the seemingly unlimited income potential for selling dogs trained to drive a tractor and set a baler… and there’s the obvious appearance on Letterman for Stupid Pet Tricks (oops, too late – maybe Colbert will continue the stick??).
Clem,
I’m simply trying to get our six-month Aussie pup to bark at strange trucks. And that seems a bit of a hurdle for him. Tractor driving would be beyond his ken, as some would say.
Still a pup. Give him time.
I spent a couple of hours being my own sheepdog yesterday trying to round them up for shearing. I forgot to push the latch home on the gate. When I got back from my veg box round, they were all back out quietly munching in the field. Could have wept. And I’m all in today. So a sheepdog sounds like a good idea – though I gather it doesn’t really work for small flocks? Another small farm penalty…
Thanks for those comments. You’re both right about the value of economic bottom line thinking here – except if I pushed it too far both the sheep and the vegetables would have to go and I’d relaunch as a paintballing franchise or something.
Brian, amen to your thinking on fossil fuels, mutual aid and rural infrastructure. It’s a problem that all too few have even begun to think about, but I’m sure it’ll loom ever larger in the future.
And talking of churning good writing out like butter, well the dairy industry here is in disarray as milk prices force ever more farm closures and promote intensification. Could be some interesting angles here on Monbiot’s positions, including on sheep. I think he has a point about the ecological downside of upland sheep farming in the UK, but the social consequences of abandoning it – not just looking back at the history of farm communities, but also forward to the future – could be problematic.
Yes, Clem – it’s just you. Me get Brian’s name wrong? Unthinkable. Absolutely unthinkable.
I see the New York Times has a review of Rebanks book in today’s edition: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/06/02/books/review-the-shepherds-life-by-james-rebanks-an-english-sheep-farmer.html?action=click&pgtype=Homepage&version=Moth-Visible&module=inside-nyt-region®ion=inside-nyt-region&WT.nav=inside-nyt-region&_r=0
“… relaunch as a paintball franchise.” Say it ain’t so. I’m of the impression paintballs are deficient in vitamins A and C. [a tangential nod toward some promised coverage – dietary complementation of various foods such as cereals and legumes, just a reminder… no nagging here]
But I do agree with the thinking that if one pushes an idea hard enough it can go too far. And I imagine one might go too far in an opposite direction as well. So balance is what we might want to be in searching for. Working horses is where I might want to get off the bus. It can work for some – and I like the idea some folks want to keep the practice going so we have living experience… folk wisdom if you will. But I’d have to scratch the noggin quite a while to get behind the ol’ 40 acres and a mule concept on a planet with 10 billion people.
Yes, it’s interesting – supposing a planet of 10 billion, accelerating climate change and, with all due respect to the late Tom, no major innovations in energy supply & storage, then what kind of farming, what kind of energy/transport infrastructure, what kind of urban/rural population balance? Much would depend on whether those in the driving seat cared about future generations and contemporary poverty. But I think it’s an interesting thought experiment. Horses…not sure…
Thanks for the reminder…keep on at me…I’m thinking
Dear Chris
Do you think it was the mice droppings and their urine (mice have no bladder control, and piddle continually) that put your sheep off your hay?
Have you thought of making a hay rick put up on staddle stones to keep the mice out of the hay? Antique staddle stone cost a fortune nowadays, but some could be extemporised out of short wooden posts and small paving slabs laid on top of them, plus a frame work of poles laid across the staddle stones to form the base to the rick.
Gene Logsdon has a trick for forming the rick by using a ring of stock fencing to hold the hay in the rick. The rain is kept off by a tarpaulin tied over the top.
And yes I have not done this, but I am thinking about it. I have 2 acres of orchard, of which the main commercial crop is walnuts. I have to cut the grass under the walnut trees to allow me to find the fallen nuts when I harvest them. I hired a tractor and mower to do this only once. Replanting grafted walnut trees is expensive! I have since only used a scythe. Though it is probably more comfortable for me to cut the grass under the shade of a walnut tree than for you in an open field in the sun, though I still wear a big hat! Currently my hay crop goes either as compost for the allotment or the top fruit trees. I have always planned for some livestock but for various reasons not done so yet.
Regards
Philip Hardy
Thanks for commenting Philip. May have been the mouse droppings that put the sheep off, but then again they were none too keen on the bale that I bought in. When I brought the ewes in to lamb they ate the hay when they had no choice! I’m interested in your suggestions about a rick – might try that. Long term, I may go for a confinement and baling approach as suggested by Clem, while going for the foggage/bought in hay shorter term. But I do like the idea of a scythe/rick system. Your operation sounds interesting – I’ve tried composting the cut grass from the pasture before without especially good results – any good tips?
Hello Chris
I have a large patch of bracken which I cut in the autumn once it has died back to brown and stockpile it. I mix it in with the grass for the carbon nitrogen mix. I then stockpile again, turning occasionally for use the following year. The grass that goes around the Top fruit I stockpile near the rows over winter and then spread as a mulch around and between the trees in the spring. It keeps the grass down, gives a bit of feed to the trees, is improving the soil, and is providing a medium for inter planting between the top fruit trees. I’m in the process of trying eleagnus, rhubarb and currants in this role. I have had a big reorganisation in my orchard over the last few years which has made it worthwhile to use large amounts of mulch and the inter planting plan. I don’t mulch the top fruit rows at the time of mowing as it attracts mice and voles which can damage bark over winter. The mowing is gradually increasing as more walnut trees are cropping well enough to harvest, and measures against the squirrels become more effective! At some point I would like to make some comments on Mark Shepard’s work, as though we both started in 1996, and had with very different objectives there are some similarities in the resulting production systems.
Best regards Chris
Philip Hardy
Thanks, that’s interesting – I’ll ponder the implications for my own system. I’d certainly be interested to hear your thoughts about Shepard’s book.
I’ve made hay by hand in the past and would never do it again. Turning a field of just under an acre in full sun made the field feel huge. My husband was at work, the kids weren’t interested (but they did ‘help’ by picking all the soft fruit in the garden for me!) When John came home in the evening there would be a phone call from the farm next door asking if he could help carry bales, so I’d be out by myself again hand turning the rows while he’d be working with a group of people and finishing with a slap up tea in the farmhouse! We didn’t give the sheep hay in the winter though but used it for the goats,
The other problem we found with a small flock was that as time went on it became almost impossible to get small doses of stuff like wormer, luckily we got o well with our neighbour and could get stuff from him. All the extra regulation after the foot and mouth outbreak was the last straw. We opened the gate to next door and they quietly joined our neighbours flock! Now we rent out the half of our holding that is still pasture to him, I know this doesn’t really contribute much to the discussion but was my reaction to your headline!
Have you looked into what Rebecca Hoskings and her partner are doing in Devon with their sheep? They are developing a foggage system. Their Facebook page is called Village Farm, or website http://www.thevillagefarm.co.uk
They probably don’t have the problem of the grass growing away like you do though
Thanks Louise. Yes, I can imagine the temptation of opening up the gate and letting the sheep out! But I’m persevering for now. Foggage is kind of interesting, though I’m currently inclining towards a housing/hay system longer term, in order to make better use of the grass & manure.