Time to Break Out the Mowers

We’ve gone through a fast snow-to-mow transition. The sun is shining and the days are a lot warmer, so the grass is growing like crazy. It’s time for me to put the mower on the tractor and get the lawn mower running, too.

The tractor spent the winter under cover, and it got a thorough overhaul from John’s Combine and Tractor Repair in Lebanon, OR a couple of years ago, so it always starts as soon as you turn it over. Our walk-behind lawn mower that we use around the house had a tougher winter, being left out again. (Why do we always do that?) As usual, it started on the 39th pull, but the starter cord broke soon afterwards. I’m always amazed at how these el cheapo mowers stand up to abuse.

Our riding mower (or “lawn tractor,” as the manufacturers optimistcally call it) is not running. I don’t know about you, but I hate the dual-blade design of most modern riding mowers. The mowing deck is inaccessible and the belts are way too hard to install. I liked the old-fashioned kind better, with a single blade, the world’s simplest belt drive, and an overall shape that made it easy to tip the mower on its side to get at the parts.

In case anyone is wondering, a “lawn tractor” is not a tractor in any sense of the word. It’s just a riding lawn mower. If you want to do something other than mow lawns, you want a real tractor. You can get an old Ford 2N, 8N, or 9N tractor in good working order for about the cost of a “lawn tractor.” These 60-year-old tractors will give you a lot less trouble than the sheet-metal junk in the hardware store.

The undeniable tractor-ness of a real tractor was brought home to me several times this winter when we got 4WD vehicles stuck on the pasture when unloading feed. We had no trouble pulling them out with the tractor (a Ford 641 from 1957). A lawn tractor wouldn’t even have made it onto the pasture before getting stuck, but a real tractor has immense amounts of traction where other vehicles have none. Great big rear tires with plenty of weight over the axle and deep rubber cleats, plus the immense torque of the low gearing make all the difference.

Check out my for more tractor tips, and happy mowing!

Independent Kids

When I was eight years old, I went out trick-or-treating by myself, returning hours later (long after dark) with an immense bag of swag. In those days, this sort of thing wasn’t remarkable. The urban myth about razor blades in the treats hadn’t made the rounds yet. The world was a reasonably safe place for kids, and everyone knew it. Kids went outside to play and were supposed to be home by dark, or dinnertime, or bedtime, or something. It worked great.

Nowadays everyone is terrified by the idea of independent kids, although it’s as safe as it ever was, so they keep the kids in sight at all times — until they are suddenly left on their own in their mid-to-late teens. What’s the point of cloistering our kids in this way, other than leaving them more dependent and less competent, while driving their parents crazy?

Which is why it’s such a relief to read books about active, competent, take-charge kids. This is what fuels my wife Karen’s passion for old-fashioned boy’s adventure books, like the Tom Slade series, which she’s bringing back into print. We’ll be releasing the third volume (Tom Slade on the River) soon. Kids who get out and do stuff, have adventures, and generally (but not always) do more good than harm. It takes me back. Hard to believe that kids are being raised in such a way that they don’t get a taste of this until adulthood.

You can check out our Tom Slade page on our Norton Creek Press Web site.

The Writer Effect

The “writer effect” is this: The opinions of the most effective writers spread and become conventional wisdom, even if they’re wrong. The reason being that it’s hard to listen to people who don’t get the word out in the first place, or are too hard to understand.

Back when I was starting out in poultry, there wasn’t much information on the Web, and I had to rely on conventional research — buying books and haunting libraries. Back when millions of farmers kept poultry, there were a lot of books in print about poultrykeeping, but by the Nineties the literature had divided into expensive, specialist tomes aimed at graduate students and professors, and popular works written by enthusiastic amateurs.

What was missing were the works for practical farmers — people who expected to sell poultry and eggs from flocks of anywhere between, say, 25 and 5,000 chickens. Such flocks were the mainstay if the industry until the Fifties, but pretty much vanished after that, with the exception of folks who were essentially large-scale hobbyists. No new books were being written by practical farmers, and the old ones all went out of print.

With the rise of the alternative food movement, interest in small-farm poultry and eggs revived, and newcomers turned to the in-print books about poultry, which meant the books by and for backyarders. As I learned from experience, trying to base a business on the advice of hobbyists is a mug’s game, and we had to learn a lot of things the hard way.

The main take-away was, “Find the right experts.” Lots of people want desperately to believe that the world works in a certain way, and that you can risk your retirement account (or what’s left of it) on a picture-postcard farm and come out ahead. What you need is examples and advice from people who’ve really succeeded at what you’re thinking of doing, so that you can figure out (a) if you want to try it yourself, and (b) how you should go about it.

After reading every 20th-century poultry book I could find, my rules of thumb are this:

  • Most writing is done by journalists and hobbyists who have never tried running a business.
  • Nevertheless, they are free with business advice and can be very convincing.
  • For many topics, the audience is not doers, but consumers. Stuff written for consumers is generally useless: dumbed down, moralistic, designed to inspire, titillate, or outrage rather than inform. It can hardly be otherwise, because the writers are rarely experts. Expertise requires immersion into a topic for a long time. It’s rare for someone who has done this to be willing or able to write for a mass audience. That’s the writer effect again.
  • Be cautious about advice from anyone who hasn’t been using the same methods for five years. A new farm that’s utterly doomed generally takes three years to fail, and may look enticing right up to the end. This is partly because it’s running on outside money, and it takes a while for this to dry up, and partly because certain problems (such as parasites or over-grazing) don’t build up to crisis levels for a few years. Not all books with an “Our Wonderful Farm” theme make it into print before the foreclosure.
  • Look for original sources. This is an important rule in science and scholarship, and it’s good for everyone. It seems like every journalist in the country has written something about Joel Salatin’s farm. This stuff is sort of interesting, but they’re neither are accurate nor as detailed as Joel’s own works.
  • Newness is not necessarily goodness. Over time, we develop new technologies and lose old ones. Sometimes the lost technologies are more appropriate to a given task. My dad was an aerospace engineer, and the peculiar requirements of the loading mechanism for the T.O.W. missile baffled him for a while, but his interest in antique firearms came to his rescue. In the mid-nineteenth century, every imaginable loading mechanism was tried, and he adapted the concept used by (if I remember correctly) the Martini-Henry rifle to the needs of the missile launcher. This sort of thing happens in every field.
  • Often the experts are not great writers, and their books can have very low production values. The writer effect means that books with good production values, aimed at a large audience, tend to be more visible than the books with the best content. Some of the smartest people in the world can’t spell.
  • As with everything else, following chains of recommendations works best. Pull your most useful books off the shelf and see what other books the author recommends, or lists in the bibliography. Follow links from the most helpful Web sites.

More Mud

Wow, we even got our Toyota T100 pickup stuck in the mud. That’s how soft the ground is with all the March rain.

If anyone knows of a good guide to making a cheap, light-duty gravel road, I could use some pointers. I’m thinking of investing in a gravel loop across the pasture so we never have this problem again.

[Update, March 30: the ground hardened just enough for me to escape. Yee-haw! I discovered that the pickup has enough ground clearance for me to drive right over my ultra-low electric fence (with strands at 5″ and 10″ off the ground) without carrying it away. Which is just as well, since the ground was so soft that I wasn’t stopping for anything.]

Don’t Load Yourself Down With Chores

Just as I was getting over my last lingering cold, I’ve come down with another one. Which reminds me of one of the first rules of country living: don’t load yourself down with chores. Stuff happens, and the more unavoidable, non-deferrable chores you’ve loaded yourself down with, the less time is left over for emergencies,projects, or recovering from a cold.

In a regular job, you can take a sick day, but you can’t tell that to the chickens. And, anyway, no one moves to the country just to trade the rat race for a chore treadmill. (Actually, some people do, but you don’t want to be like them.) Keep your burden light, and you’ll have time live your life, or at least take a nap.