I've been thinking about survival of the fittest lately and how it pertains to me as a farmer.  As part of our mission, we are trying to preserve heritage breeds of both plants and animals.  But sometimes I wrestle with the question, "Should we just let some breeds die off?"  Those who save their own seeds understand that only the seeds from the best plants will be kept in order to create a better product the next season.   The same has been true with animal breeding.  I see the value in  this, but what if a plant or animal just doesn't have desirable traits? 

Our Sumatra chickens are a good example.  Sumatras are beautiful birds, but that seems to be about all they have going for them.  I'll admit, I purchased them because I saw them and thought they were pretty; that's about all the thought I put into it at the time.  Now, having had them for nearly a year, I am wishing I'd thought about my purchase a bit more.  To begin with, they are small.  Not a great bird for butchering since there is little meat on them and because they have black feathers, they don't look all that pretty once they are plucked.  Also, they are stupid, or stubborn, I'm not sure which fits the bill.  I am constantly having to herd them into the coop in the evening while the rest of the birds just know it's time to go in.  They lay very small eggs and they are quite mean to the other birds.  However, I have discovered that they are listed as a critical breed with the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy.  Well, that's just great!  Now I feel like I HAVE to keep them around! 

So, I wonder....Which is the right path?  Work towards creating the best breed even if that means some will become extinct or keep the flawed, regardless of their weaknesses?  Is there a middle ground?  With a name like Black Sheep Farms, you can guess that we will always stand up for the little guy, but what will that cost us?

~Kelly

Moxie yesterday, LOVING the snowTonight, Brian and I rescued Moxie and saved him from a cold and snowy death.  If you are not currently in Nebraska, we are in the midst of a pretty nasty snowstorm.  Several inches of snow have fallen on the farm today and the wind is howling away.  Not the kind of weather to be walking around outside in.  

We've been keeping the puppies in the barn but no matter how fancy my dog pen gets, the dogs always manage to find a way out.  When they get out, they are gone, long gone and no amount of calling will bring them back until THEY decide to come back.  Today, the dogs escaped and I was determined that I was not going out to bring them back.  Hours later, Molly came home, by herself.  That worried me since those two never go anywhere without each other.  But, Moxie is the stubborn one so I figured he would come back later.  Well, it got dark and I grew more and more worried about him.  Brian, sensing my fear and knowing that I would not let it go until I found him, agreed to go look for him.  He came back 25 minutes later to get a knife.  Moxie had ventured all the way across our 76 acres and gotten himself stuck in a wood pallet at the neighbor's house.  So, I bundled up and trekked across the farm in knee-high snow drifts so we could bring the dog home.  Half way there, I could hear Moxie yelping in agony.  The neighbors said they didn't even hear him, but I don't know how that is possible.  We managed to saw through the pallet and get him out, but the poor guy could not stand on his leg.  So, we got to carry him back, through the snow, in the howling wind! 
Now, our terrified, but alive, puppy is resting comfortably.  It doesn't appear that he damaged his leg and I think once he is warm and has filled his belly, he'll be fine. 

We'll discuss his punishment in the morning...

~ Kelly

We got the turkeys processed this morning. Since they were so much bigger than the chickens and we are not equipped with things like killing cones, we decided to pay someone else to do it. They're in the freezer right now.

I can't wait to eat one. Before we started on our "organic trip," I loved getting whole turkeys. It gave me a great excuse to cook multiple meals. While we transitioned, I had a difficult time adjusting to the price of chemical-free food. Buying a turkey meant $60+ instead of the artificially-low $0.69/lb around the holidays.

Now, after we spent $7.50 per chick, fed them, watered them, protected (most of) them from our dogs, shooed them into the coop every night and listened to their constant gobble-gobble, the price seems more accurate. We get no government subsidies. We don't have 10,000 square foot buildings. We put our own labor into producing food that has had a chance to live life.

One tom and three hens were spared. They will be our breeding stock for next year. Our hope is that we can develop more self reliance by growing from what we produced the year before. Just like saving seeds, we would like our animals to increase our stock naturally instead of buying from a hatchery or breeder every year.

Plus, who wouldn't love to see them hatch in Spring?

-Brian

On Black Sheep Farms, we have a resident woodchuck. We had heard tale of the monstrous rodent and even caught a glimpse of it last year. But nothing was to prepare us for the encounter we had on Thursday evening.

As I was getting water for our poultry, I heard Lexie sound an alert similar to her "intruder" bark. As I went to investigate, I was shocked to see that she had cornered a woodchuck near the grapevines in our orchard. The beast was standing its ground and making chattering noises with its terrible teeth.

I called for Kelly and the boys, then turned to the house to collect them and our camera. Surely, this encounter must be documented, I thought. As I moved away, Lexie became distracted, and the woodchuck took the opportunity to flee. It bounded further into the orchard and attempted to leap into a nearby apple tree. I thought that the 'chuck would retake a defensive posture near the tree by the time of my return.

As my family exited the house and approached the orchard, brimming with excitement and wonder, we did not find the creature on the ground. A series of unearthly squawks and toothsome chatter led us to the woodchuck's safe harbor: six feet above ground in an apple tree. Here is proof that what I say is true:

We discovered that woodchucks are versitile creatures, akin in spirit, if not size, to the mighty squirrel.

-Brian