Nebraska Chicken


We have 72 hectares on the farm that turns grass into protein for families.  We named each paddock after a state in America … with the occasional city judging by circumstantial foliage ( see also Detroit, the shittiest paddock that is now the best paddock thanks to mob grazing ).

Nebraska is a north facing paddock that was once a corn field.  When we bought the farm, corn was grown and dried ready for harvest just before Zelie was born.  Funny side note, that big, beast harvester had a flat on the early morn of harvest so we watched as they called the tire changers in.  The harvest wasn’t ours.  It went the way of the renting farmer.


After the harvest was done, we worked the field with cattle to create better pasture for cattle.


The herd did a great job.  Also, Brent seeded alfalfa.  Great for drought.  Great for flavor.

As the field transitioned, we caught some random weeds that the kids collected.  That was a fun year for sunflowers.


Then the pasture started getting serious.  New grasses volunteering amongst the alfalfa.


Then we decided to run chickens.  Not many feed fresh alfalfa to their chickens.  Too expensive.  … but we have cows, so it worked out.


And chickens LOVE alfalfa leaves.  When they are first introduced, they go right for the leaves above everything they have available on the buffet.


Our Nebraska started with a cornfield in France.  Now, it feeds both cows and chickens.  The pasture is so much more resilient because of the work the animals have done.



My Camera Is Holding On Awesome


Can’t adjust the settings.  Can’t review what photo I take.  I’m shooting blind.  But I need to keep shooting.


It’s a shot in the dark.  Like the old days.

The weather is superb.  Our dear friend is here and it warms my heart that we can work together on the farm then relax in the evening sun watching the tractors trudge on.  Rearing grassfed beef has a lot of management of pasture, but little time spent in a tractor .


When the herd is moved, chickens fed and watered, the beef butchered and packed then delivered, you can lay under the evening sun.  Relax because the day is over.  Play with the kids.


Chit chat with friends.  Let the grass grow.  In the afternoon, it will be sweeter for the herd.  A late breakfast.  They sleep in, our herd.



Cow Scratch Time


It’s that time of year where the cows are extra enthused to scratch on any solid object.  And OOOH they love it.  Especially when we bring them up to the yards.  So much to scratch on, so little time.  They really get into it.


Which is fine.  Though we have this one barrier to our yards that took a beating when the gutter system gone wrong weakened the underfoot, so the giant concrete pillars would wobble if some massive force … or cow scratch … tested it.


And OOOh they did.  The herd LOVES a good scratch.  Especially now when the weather is warmer.  We used to park the digger to hold the wall up, but in the last few months, we didn’t need that safety net.


The top bar is made of heavy pipe.  Except for the last bit … the wobbly bit … that is a plank of wood that has been winning the herd triage battle for years.  They test it, but that wood held strong.  Except for today.  The herd came in for triage, Brent went out to set up their next move and I herd a crack.  Instead of helping him, I manned the corner.  There was a snap in the wood, but it might hold for this round and we could fix it after.

I was trying to think of ways to quickly reinforce the plank while we triaged.  All options involved materials and time.  I stepped away to check the water and I heard the final “crack.”  Quickly!  What material can bind two planks of wood withstanding a half ton animal head in search of a scratch?  Duct tape.  Just so happens, I had some close by.


I quickly patched with duct tape the two pieces of broken plank together to make it, presumably, stronger than it was before.  As a back-up, I asked Brent to drive the digger round to hold up the fence and detour any fence jumpers.


Hahahah.  We’ve not had a cow jump a barrier.  Don’t worry.  Except for today.  It wasn’t over my outstanding duct tape improvisation.  She tried to jump over a proper barrier.


 “She’s going to jump, Brent”

“Don’t worry, she won’t jump”

herd leaves the yards

“She jumped, Brent”

Yep, she JUMPED.  Amazing.  We moved her safely with the other triaged cows.  They were a bit on edge, but calmed down soon enough.  Now I’m hoping she won’t remember her super cow jumper powers.


… and now this.  Monster Cars in France.


T, T What Begins With T?


Fixed me up some T-bones this afternoon.  Played T-bone Tetris.  Though, for those who like to match things absolutely perfectly no gaps snap shut click clack snap 2 points … my T-bones won’t resolve that feeling, but they look great.  And they were very tasty.


We also used some T things to get our Farm Stay ready for guests.  If you want to do the brick tile thing … you need the ‘T’.  Keeps the tiles straight.  I learned a little something about tiling this weekend.

And we fed our friend, who helped with our villa improvements, a T-bone steak.  T for tastebuds.  T for tender. T for thank you.


Everyday I’m Scrufflin’


We are trying a different way to work our pasture keeping it full of life.  Brent is doing a different hay program for the next few days.  This year, the grass is still growing during these colds months, but we have some hay to play with.


We don’t need to feed hay, but we are using some of our older hay to see how the herd works with it.


Oh and they love it.  They play with it.  Like a baby with spaghetti.  The cuddle it.

Nuzzle it.


It’s cow-nip.  Some wear it as a hat.  Then they get stuck in.  We are always after ways to improve soil and life in our pasture.  The herd is fenced in a smaller area with rich food.  They should trod the nutrients in and then move along to the next bit.


In other news … The French Army popped round for a visit.  That was fun.

No warning.  Lumi barked at a jeep and then suddenly it was on.


The herd was a bit spooked … yeah … you know I love that.  They calmed down after we fed them breakfast.

The Army dudes were super friendly.  We spoke with the sergeant.  He said they won’t be long.  They weren’t, but it was still a bit weird.

I thought y’all might like the photos of the French Army on our farm.  Our friend said it looked like Halo.  I totally agree.


blog title ref:

The Field Is Your Playground


Otto led the play today.  He wanted to go far.  The weather is a bit cold, but not too cold.  They played in Nebraska … one of our paddocks.  I like that the kids can go far and explore without those pesky parents.  It reminds me of Little Rascals or The Famous Five.  Kids running around without adult supervision.  Learning how to deal with the environment.  Hot fences, big trees, empty lakes.  When I checked on them, I could hear them before I could see them.  So loud!  Whose kids are these?!


They collected giant branches.  Carried all the way home.  Not sure what role those branches will play in future games, but they have been harvested and set in the barn for easy access.


Hunter day today, so the kids wore bright “see me” attire.  And a fat, gray lump of a cat joined them all the way.


He’s the peoples poofle.  Not a mouser.  No, no.  He does one job, keep the kiddies happy.  Farmer’s wife opinion?  That cat catches no mouse.  Useless.


Z wanted to trek to our neighbours house … on a Sunday … during lunch .. without warning.  I advised to play in the field instead.  She was not happy with that direction.

Z loves to tell you all about her size and age appropriate challenges.  Today, she would like you to know that she can walk under the electric fence because she is little.  I did warn her about the pom-pom.  She compensated accordingly.


Grassfed And Beefier Than Ever


“What a great year!” says the grass farmer raising cattle.  “When will summer begin?!”  says the lovely residents of Country France.  Wow.  We’ve been here over five years on the farm and I’ve not seen this combination of sun/rain/sun/rain/no freeze deal.


The grass is so tall ( how tall is it? ) so tall that a photo at tit level, you can’t see the top of the seed heads.  … and I am a tall lady.


The chickens seem to be establishing camp well.  Though, for the next lot, we’ll mow it down.  Every good chicken loves freshly mowed grass.


And I cooked up the last sample from our BBQ box.  We’re trying out another type of steak box to see how it scores on flavor and tenderness.  We have tried every piece of meat that we raise.  Scrutinising it.  Adjusting our farming methods.  Then, sampling again.  It’s a slow process.