Small-Scale Livestock Farming Read online

  SMALL-SCALE LIVESTOCK FARMING

  A Grass-Based Approach for Health, Sustainability, and Profit

  Carol Ekarius

  In Memory of

  DOUG SPEAR

  February 21, 1957, to February 2, 1999

  A great friend, a craftsman and artisan, a chicken fancier, and a person who taught us a lot about sustainability. His flame will burn on, in the hearts of his family and friends.

  We miss you, Doug.

  The mission of Storey Publishing is to serve our customers by publishing practical information that encourages personal independence in harmony with the environment.

  Edited by Marie Salter and Laura Jorstad

  Cover design by Meredith Maker

  Cover photograph © Grant Heilman/Grant Heilman Photography, Inc.

  Text design and production by Erin Lincourt

  Line drawings on pp. 131–133 by Bethany Caskey; on p. 193 by Jeffrey C. Domm; on pp. 3, 4, 10, 12 (top), 13, 14, 16, 24, 29, 30, 61, 66, 73, 76 (top), 77, 85, 139, 150, 161, 162, 173, 175, 179 by Chuck Galey; on p. 193 by Carol Jessop; on pp. 8, 9, 11, 12 (bottom), 20, 21, 27, 28, 31, 35, 37, 38, 43, 44, 48, 51, 56, 57, 62, 64, 65, 70, 74, 76, 78, 82, 83, 95, 129, 163, 191, 199 by Elayne Sears; and on p. 197 by Becky Turner.

  Indexed by Susan Olason/Indexes & Knowledge Maps

  © 1999 by Carol Ekarius

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages or reproduce illustrations in a review with appropriate credits; nor may any part of this book be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other — without written permission from the publisher.

  The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. All recommendations are made without guarantee on the part of the author or Storey Publishing. The author and publisher disclaim any liability in connection with the use of this information. For additional information, please contact Storey Publishing, 210 MASS MoCA Way, North Adams, MA 01247.

  Storey books are available for special premium and promotional uses and for customized editions. For further information, please call 1-800-793-9396.

  Printed in the United States by Versa Press

  20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Ekarius, Carol.

  Small-scale livestock farming : a grass-based approach for health, sustainability, and profit / Carol Ekarius.

  p. cm.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-58017-162-5

  1. Livestock. 2. Livestock—Marketing. 3. Farm management. I. Title

  SF61.E465 1999

  636—dc21 99-29586

  CIP

  Contents

  Preface

  I. THE ROOTS OF GRASS-BASED FARMING

  1. Introduction

  2. Livestock & the Environment

  3. The Holistic Management Model

  4. Grass-Farming Basics

  II. ANIMAL HUSBANDRY

  5. Genetics, Breeding, & Training

  6. Feeds & Feeding

  7. Facilities

  8. Health & Reproduction

  III. MARKETING

  9. Finding a Niche

  10. Legalities

  11. Butchering & Processing

  IV. PLANNING

  12. Farm Planning

  13. Financial Planning

  14. Biological Planning

  15. Monitoring

  Appendixes

  A. Animals

  Cattle

  Chickens

  Goats

  Horses

  Pigs

  Sheep

  B. Composition of Common Feedstuffs

  C. Figuring Feeds & Feeding

  D. Grasses & Legumes

  E. Resources

  F. Calculations, Equations, & Equivalents

  Index

  Preface

  While we have land to labor, then, let us never wish to see our citizens occupied at a work-bench, or twirling a distaff. Carpenters, masons, smiths are wanting in husbandry: but, for the general operations of manufacture, let our workshops remain in Europe. . . . The loss by the transportation of commodities across the Atlantic will be made up in happiness and permanence of government. The mobs of great cities add just so much to the support of pure government, as sores do the strength of the human body.

  Cultivators of the earth are the most valuable citizens. They are the most vigorous, the most independent, the most virtuous, and they are tied to their country, and wedded to its liberty and interests by the most lasting bonds.

  — Thomas Jefferson

  SOMETIME AROUND 1983, my husband, Ken Woodard, and I were living in a ski-resort town in the Colorado Rockies and were mulling over the idea of moving to the country. We were at least a couple of generations removed from the farm and had no experience with farming or rural living, but we sure were intent on the idea.

  Magazines like the Small Farmer’s Journal and The New Farm were part of our regular mail; we devoured books on gardening, farming, livestock raising, and general rural living. We were preparing for our first attempt at country living.

  How We Got Here

  In 1984, we moved to 40 acres (16.2 ha) out of town. We bought horses. We bought ducks, geese, and chickens. We bought an orphaned calf from a local rancher. We almost killed that calf with kindness; overfeeding brought on scours, but luckily Ken’s grandfather was still alive to render a fast diagnosis and recommend a treatment regimen for us. Little Fat Girl grew into a nice-size heifer.

  We moved to an 80-acre (32.4-ha) commercial farming operation in Minnesota in 1989, and husbandry became our vocation as well as our avocation. The farm consisted of 53 acres (21.5 ha) of tillable ground; the remainder was in permanent pasture with a stream running through it and a pond at one end. It was in a traditional dairy area and was set up with a dairy barn, a three-sided equipment/hay shed, and some old, falling-down sheds. The soil was moderately fertile.

  For as many years as the neighbors could remember (and their collective memories went back a very long time), the tillable ground had been in monocropped corn, primarily harvested as silage to feed the dairy herd. The permanent pasture became little more than a weed-choked exercise area in summer. The creek bottom was severely pugged by years of cattle hooves, and the stream had become more intermittent over the years, holding water for shorter periods of time regardless of precipitation. Fish had become nonexistent in the stream. The hillsides had large washout areas and little remaining topsoil.

  During the decade prior to our purchase, four families had come and gone, trying to make a go of milking cows using “conventional” techniques. Twenty-six cows spent most of their time stanchioned in the barn. The farmer brought their feed to them, primarily in the form of silage, supplemented by purchased hay and grain. Hauling manure out was a daily job. Fans ran continuously in summer to cool the barn, and the water lines to the barn routinely froze in winter. These families fell into the too big/too small conundrum. The economics of a confinement dairy could not support them, yet they worked too many hours per day to be able to seek off-farm work. They left, economically, spiritually, and physically broken. As each family passed on, the land was left a little more degraded.

  When we gave up our jobs (good, secure jobs with benefits) to become full-time farmers, everyone thought we were crazy. Our families and friends wanted to know how we thought we could possibly make it when farmers who’d been farming their whole lives were failing. They may still be dismayed with our choice, but they now acknowledge our success.

  A ranch
in Colorado was our first dream, but as we pursued it, we concluded that we couldn’t afford full-time ranching. Colorado ranches were for rock stars and Rockefellers, so we made our move to Minnesota. During the nine years we farmed in Minnesota, we learned a lot about farming, marketing, and getting by on less. We came to believe we could get by on a small piece of land in the arid West. So in the fall of 1997, we sold the Minnesota farm, traveled through New Mexico and Arizona during the winter — taking our first joint vacation in over a decade — and returned to Colorado in the spring of 1998. We still aren’t rock stars or Rockefellers, so we own just a small piece of land and lease the additional acreage we need. Leasing allows us to not tie up too much of our capital on the land.

  Who This Book Is For

  Demographics show that many people out there are like us; they want to escape urban/suburban life for the country. This book is for those people who are still in the dreaming phase, and for those who have recently taken the plunge. It’s aimed at people who have an acre of land on the edge of town, or people with 1,000 acres (406.5 ha, which isn’t a big ranch out West). Though much of the book is directed at dreamers and new farmers, there are sections that I hope may be of benefit to farmers of long standing.

  Of Farms and Heroes

  There are heroes in this book. Oh, not the kind of people who jump onto speeding trains to disarm a nuclear bomb aimed at a big city; I leave those kind of heroes to the Big Screen. But there are heroes nonetheless. These heroes are regular people who not only keep farming or ranching despite adversity, but do it well. They are people who show that culture can still be a part of agri-culture; that taking care of the land for future generations is compatible with making money; and that there is still a place for the little guy.

  I have to say, the most fun I had while preparing this manuscript was the time I spent interviewing the farmers and ranchers whom you will read about throughout this book. These people aren’t whiners; they are realists who understand well the hardships of their chosen profession, but they don’t talk about “the government’s got to do this, or do that.” They all consider themselves to be the master of their own destinies. They have can-do, will-do attitudes — and they are doing what it takes!

  Some of the families I highlight here farm part-time. In the lexicon of commercial agriculture, these people are disdainfully called “hobby farmers.” Well, let me tell you, there are farmers out there who have followed the “get big or get out” adage for all it’s worth, yet they still don’t have enough money left to support their families. Most often, their wives take off-farm work, not because they have chosen to follow a career but because they have to in order to buy food, clothing, and other necessities. I have met many, many of these families, and despite high gross sales, often exceeding the $100,000 mark that the U.S. Department of Agriculture uses to designate a large farm operation, they struggle to buy shoes for their kids. I contend that these are the real hobby farmers, and their hobby takes a terrible toll in both material and spiritual terms. I met hundreds of farm wives in the commercial agriculture sector who said, “I pray every day that none of my children become farmers, or marry farmers!” Every time I heard this, it broke my heart.

  Those in mainstream agriculture must stop disparaging part-time farmers who make a true profit (a financial, social, and environmental profit) just because they have made a choice that includes off-farm work. There is room enough for both full-time and part-time farmers.

  For each of the heroes you read about here, there are thousands more. Unsung heroes who may inspire you, as they have inspired me. (To each of you, many thanks.)

  Acknowledgments

  Some other people also deserve my thanks. My husband, Ken Woodard, tops the list — his support, humor, intelligence, and hard work have made everything happen, and have made it all worthwhile; Elizabeth McHale for supporting this book when it was little more than a concept; and the staff at Storey Books for then making it happen.

  For graciously agreeing to review this text, and provide constructive criticisms, Barbara Green, attorney and friend; Dr. Ann Wells, DVM; Jim Gerrish, research professor at the Forage Systems Research Center at the University of Missouri; Byron Shelton, rancher and certified holistic management educator.

  Author’s Note: Throughout this text U.S. units of measure are used, with metric equivalents given in parentheses. Where “value” discrepancies occur, they are due to rounding off errors; however, materially the work is correct. I apologize to any who may take offense at my leniency in this regard.

  PART I

  THE ROOTS OF GRASS-BASED FARMING

  CHAPTER 1

  Introduction

  One aggressive family farm in the plains grew rapidly by investing in irrigation in the 1960s and 1970s. It grew so fast that it soon had over eight thousand irrigated acres, a cattle-feeding operation, and a farm-supply business. To acquire more working capital, the family farmer incorporated and merged his operation with an alfalfa processor whose stock was sold over one of the national stock exchanges. In a few years, the family farmer had lost so much money in the cattle feeding and futures market transactions that he had to accept a minority position in the company. Subsequently, the company was acquired by a conglomerate that held it a short time and then sold it to Texas oil interests. At the beginning of this high-speed transformation, no one would have quarreled with the claim that the farm was a family farm. At the conclusion, no one would have suggested it was anything but an industrial agribusiness. At many points along the path, however, you could have ignited a spirited debate by suggesting it was either.

  — Marty Strange, Family Farming

  THE COMMERCIAL FAMILY FARM is disappearing from the United States. Our farming system is being split into two camps: megafarms, which are corporate in nature if not in deed, and small-scale farms, often thought of as hobby farms. The middle is being squeezed out.

  These changes had their beginnings around the time of World War II. The changes brought on by the war are well illustrated by the story of my husband Ken’s grandfather, Clarence Woodard. During the Great Depression, Clarence ran a small farm on the outskirts of LaJunta, Colorado. He managed to support his family and a hired man with the milk from a small herd of dairy cows.

  During Clarence’s era, farmers had a more direct link with the consumer. In fact, 40 percent of the consumer’s food dollar went directly to the farmer (Figure 1.1). In Clarence’s case, the percentage was even higher; twice each day he hand-milked his fifteen to twenty cows, cooled and bottled the milk, and delivered it door to door in LaJunta. Clarence’s customers were neighbors, friends, and relatives, and if things were going well, he’d take a few minutes to visit along his route.

  From the beginning of the century until 1940, farm numbers hovered right around 6.4 million; these numbers began a quick descent, however, with the coming of the war (Figure 1.2). This phenomenon was driven by many factors, but in Clarence’s case, it was the abundance of good-paying construction jobs on military installations around Pueblo and Colorado Springs that led him to quit farming.

  Figure 1.1. Comparison of farmer and marketing shares of consumer food expenditures, 1929–1996. The farmer’s share continues to decrease, despite steady or increasing consumer prices.

  (Data from USDA/Economic Research Service reports.)

  As more and more farmers left for jobs in town or were sent to war, those who remained had to produce more. The land in production stayed fairly constant, around a billion acres, but fewer farmers were working that land. Farming more land left less time for direct-marketing of crops, so the remaining farmers began counting on bulk sales of raw commodities.

  After the war, industry, which had geared up for large-scale production of weapons, military transport, and other war-related goods, suddenly turned to agriculture as an open market. Chemical inputs to feed plants and fight the farmer’s enemies — weeds and insects — became readily available. Initially, they produced miracles. Tractor and implement pro
duction cranked into full swing. The message to American producers was clear: Grow all you can grow, America will feed a hungry world, and you, her farmers, will reap the benefit. Some, of course, did benefit. But many were left by the wayside. Farm numbers continued to decline, as they still do today. And the farmers who are left, despite getting bigger, are continuing to struggle for their existence.

  As farm sizes increased, farmers began specializing. The idea of egg money or a few pigs to pay the mortgage disappeared. Monocropping and farming fenceline to fenceline were substituted for diversity. Animal agriculture, like crop farming, moved into an industrial model, with living creatures being treated as little more than production units.

  These changes have resulted not only in reduced farm numbers but also in the loss of soil productivity, reductions in wildlife, and increases in water and air pollution. They have also caused a fundamental breakdown in many rural communities: Schools consolidate, hospitals close, and small businesses disappear. That’s the bad news.