This post, with some edits, updates, and additions, was first posted in August, 2010.
I lived briefly in Iowa in the 1970's and have been back several times since. When people think of Iowa, they think of (not necessarily in this order): Pork, soybeans, corn. In fact, if you ask my son (who has been to Iowa several times) what he remembers of Iowa, he remembers miles and miles of boring cornfields. I don't think I saw many chicken houses there.
When I think of Iowa, I also think of local food, of heritage breeds, of farmers who still care. Iowa does have at least one heritage breed poultry breeder, who we bought from several times when we lived in Arkansas: the incomparable Murray McMurray Hatchery.
Visit Murray McMurray's website today, though and you will find a COVID-19 information page.
Iowa also has wonderful, friendly people and a wonderful place we have never been to-the headquarters of the Seed Savers Exchange in Decorah, Iowa and its Heritage Farm.
Sadly, Seed Savers has had to suspend shipping for now, due to the huge demand for seed.
It's also sad that Iowa, right now, is in the news for something totally different-COVID-19 and meat processing plants (in addition to those in several other states). I would like to share some memories of when Iowa farming goes right.
I have fond memories of visiting the Iowa City Farmers Market. Iowa City is a college town so, as you could expect, they had their share of organic booths. Of course, everything was locally grown and made. But now, in case you are wondering, their farmers market is delayed until at least July 4.
Yes, in Iowa the small farmer still exists, marketing the most delicious pork and beef (sorry, vegetarian readers), plus all the usual veggies. In a climate hotter than ours in the northeast, one even saw okra and some other southern favorites for sale.
But I promised to speak about mail order chicken memories. Since some who have never raised chickens are interested in that now, I want to share something about raising chickens and "growing" our own eggs, all from Iowa chickens.
Back in the 1980's, when we lived in rural Arkansas and kept chickens, we would spend the New Year perusing the Murray McMurray catalog, with its brightly colored pictures of what was even then called "rare" chickens. These are the chickens with names, not numbers: Barred Rocks, Rhode Island Reds, Black Australorps, Buff Orpingtons, New Hampshire...and on and one-about 130 breeds total.
We would make our selection and place our order (in the mail, of course). No internet, no fascinating website giving pictures of their operations, no instant update of stock on hand. Rather, we placed our order and waited for the day we specified. We did it the "old fashioned" way which, in those days, was the only way.
On the appointed day, there would be a phone call from our local rural post office. We had to come and get them; they would not deliver. The box, cheeping away, was rushed home. In a miracle that we could never get tired of, the living chicks survived the trip. Just imagine opening a box and being greeted by 25 cheeping 2 day old chicks! We would take each one out gently, dip its beak in water, and put each precious chick in a little pen under a warm light. The waterer and feeder were made from mason jars screwed into special "lips". We fed them commercial but unmedicated chick starter. After a day or so, they would be ready for supplementation with the occasional June Bug attracted by the light.
This next part is not for the squeamish. The chicks would get hold of the unfortunate bug and chase each other, trying to snatch what was left of the large bug (it didn't last very long) in a game of chick free-for-all. The whole while, they would be screaming in delight.
Don't ever say baby chicks are cute. Not unless you've seen one of those feedings.
You have to love chickens to know them. You have to accept their nature. Chickens are omnivores, and they lust for blood. If one of those chicks accidentally got cut, it would have suffered the same fate as that bug.
Then, those chicks would grow, and about six months later the female (pullets) would start to lay their small beginner eggs. The males? Well, that part isn't for the squeamish either. (I'll leave the part out about how roosters treat the hens.) Nothing like a wonderful, thick shelled, fresh egg. Except if you want to hard boil, in which case you want a slightly aged egg.
We never worried about salmonella. We ate raw (from scratch) cake batter. We even made (gasp!) real eggnog!
We moved back to urban life in the mid 1980's, and our chicken life was over.
If you attempt to raise chickens, one thing you will learn quickly is that it's hard work. And one more point is necessary: unless you get pre-sexed chickens, you will have males and females. If all you want is females for eggs: what are you going to do with the males?
Just realize you may be entering territory you may not have considered.
You'll quickly appreciate your local farmer. In these times more than ever:
Support your local farmer. Know who produces your food. Know HOW it is produced. Ask questions. Ask lots of questions, including how the animal is - to use a euphemism - harvested.
That harvesting and processing is hard work, too, and it's a national scandal that the workers in the large commercial plants put their lives at risk so that we can eat meat. So: how is the animal harvested? Is it done by the farmer? Is it done humanely? Is it done by a local operation that is treating its employees well?
Because, in this day and age, treating their employees well can make the difference between life and death. And how you support your local farmer can make the difference between their operations surviving this time, or not.
Just one more detail of life in the time of COVID-19.
Wow...I am not a farm girl, I have no idea ...
ReplyDeleteI've never wanted to raise chickens. And I don't think I'd make a good farmer. I'm way too squeamish to deal with "harvesting" critters.
ReplyDeleteThis brought back some memories! We lived on a farm in Illinois. Our neighbors had chickens and we traded home made butter for chickens to eat. Not for the squemish.
ReplyDeleteIn our newly wedded years, we moved to Ames, Iowa. All you wrote about the farmers there and Illinois is so correct.
The eggs were a rich almost orange gold. We always licked the mixer blades. Thanks for the memories.
We done chicken before and I find hens comforting.
ReplyDeleteDefinitely support our local farmers. Cannot wait until I can visit our farmer's market again.
ReplyDelete