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Arbor Day vs. Earth Day

May 21, 2011 By Leave a Comment

 

City Slicker

By Linda J. Haley

(May 2011) I was invited to give an Arbor Day presentation at a local elementary school. Once over my initial panic at public speaking, I declined A) because I had two appointments I couldn’t change; and B) I don’t know a thing about Arbor Day, except you plant trees.

I believe you should be prepared if you’re the guest speaker at a school because kids are brilliant at smelling a fake and would grill me with unanswerable questions.

I began randomly asking people about Arbor Day; they were as clueless as me. Struggling to find the date on any calendar, we resorted to Google, which provided links that explained the date varies from state to state based on prime planting seasons.

But what is Arbor Day?

In 1872, a journalist named Julius Sterling Morton moved from Detroit, Mich., to the Nebraska plains, a city slicker like me. The first thing he noticed was the lack of trees for building, fuel or shade. To him, the Great Plains were not so great, so he began a movement to get everyone to plant trees.

According to a May 5, 2009, “Washington Times” editorial, the 1885 Nebraska City News reported Morton believed planting trees was “no more than a desire to pay a just debt” to our forefathers who had cultivated trees before us.

Tree husbandry was an expression of the human impulse to increase the beauty of the land, “to endeavor to make the world lovely because he has been a dweller on it.”

What a difference one man’s efforts made: more than one million trees were planted that first Arbor Day! The National Agriculture Convention pushed for Arbor Day in every state, and The Iowa State “Register” praised Arbor Day as a holiday “devoted to pleasurable business and happy usefulness.”

Sounds good to me!

I like everything about Arbor Day, so what the heck is Earth Day? I thought it was a new marketing twist for Arbor Day, but I was wrong.

Earth day began in 1970. Riding the wave of the already-established Arbor Day, Earth Day usurped the date of the first Arbor Day (April 22) in an attempt to bring awareness to the critical importance of preserving the environment and the destruction of earth’s natural resources. It began humbly enough as a student-based environmental movement to raise awareness and alter the consumptive practices of people and industry.

Twenty years later in 1990, a full-blown Earthfest was held on the Mall in Washington, D.C., complete with protestors, musicians, celebrities, politicians and federal agencies speaking about recycling, stopping wasteful practices and environmental pollution.

Geez, do we really need all that? I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m not big on politics in my planting. Honestly, being environmentally aware and responsible is simple common sense.

We don’t need Earth Day; we need to exercise a personal awareness that we are an integral part of the environment, our choices affect it in a negative or positive way that enriches or detracts from our quality of lives and those of future generations.

Look at that! Secret’s out with no fanfare or political intervention!

I guess I’m an Arbor Day kinda girl. The Washington Times editorial continued: “Arbor Day does not promote any political agenda. ‘The only stand we take,’ says Mark Derowitsch of the Arbor Day Foundation, ‘is that it’s a great thing to plant trees.’”

Arbor Day does not require nor ask for government intervention, regulation, restriction or taxation. All it asks is that public-spirited individuals and organizations plant trees.

“Anyone can plant a tree; you get your hands dirty and make a huge difference in the world,” the editorial reads.

While Arbor Day stands in Earth Day’s shade, it is still thriving. The Arbor Day Foundation’s national poster contest saw entries from more than a million fifth-grade students, and a record 3,300 communities met Tree City USA requirements, including our fair city of Oneida – its 21st year!

Those planted Arbor Day trees will stand as taller monuments in time than the mound of press releases put out by Earth Day.

I stumbled across an appropriate quote from Dave Nalle of “The republic of Dave” website:

“The difference between Earth Day and Arbor Day embodies the difference between environmentalism and conservationism. It’s the difference between just complaining about the environment and actually doing something to improve it.”

Arbor Day? Earth Day? You decide. It’s spring: GO PLANT SOMETHING!

Give back in a direct, easy, fun-to-get-dirty way to a planet that provides so much every day.

Linda J. Haley is a freelance writer specializing in rural and agricultural topics. She can be reached at linda@m3pmedia.com.

 

Filed Under: Agriculture, City Slicker, Environment and Nature, Opinion-Editorial Tagged With: ,

Cowabunga!

May 15, 2011 By 2 Comments
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City Slicker

By Linda J. Haley

My farm school classes are winding down, only five left, but they saved the best for last-farm tours! Yea! I love all kinds of learning, but there’s no substitute for the real thing – seeing how it’s done, lessons learned by the host farm and what new ideas I might bring to my future farm.

First up was a dairy farm! Twin Oaks Organic Dairy of Truxton, owned and operated by the Arnold family, Rick, Kathie, Bob and Kirk. I have never been to a dairy farm before – it was fascinating! This farm does rotational grazing; turning their cropland into permanent pasture, work toward an organic goal was achieved in 1998.

Today they’re a totally organic operation offering raw milk to the surrounding community, while selling off the remainder for processing.

We began by meeting “the girls.” Each cow snacks away in her individual slot, just hanging out. They all had a number and a name. I was surprised how curious they were. They weren’t warm and fuzzy, but they weren’t freaky either. And they’re HUGE! As big as my friend’s Chevette in college.

Everyone worked around them like their size was nothing. If they needed to sweep or hook up a milking machine, they’d talk to the behemoth and nudge or push it over a bit. I’d heard about cow kicks and was keeping my distance. A newly employed milker noticed my “safety zone” technique. She generously showed me the best approach, nudging in close while still being observant and getting the task done.

Priceless!

I finally got up the nerve to pet one and ran to catch up to the class heading out to the outdoor areas. While the barn was certainly clean and comfortable, I liked the open area. The herd rotates from inside to outside, so all cows get a little outdoor time. It’s like recess when we were kids. (I wish we still had recess, dodge ball would do a lot for office politics.)

It’s a cow spa –a big open area to hang out and chat up other cows. Places to graze or get a drink, or just hang out and enjoy the fresh air. Then it hit me.

Where’re the kids?

They show me an area full of calves; cow daycare! While still in mom’s sight, calves are grouped together with other calves their age. Cool; mom gets a break, and the kids aren’t lonely. The calves are busy feeding out of bins with teat-looking devices sticking out to latch onto.

Calves are way more curious than mom, very sweet and friendly. They have the weirdest tongue, all slobbery and slick, except for this weird sandpapery section. Get this: they have cow coats! Canvas wraps they use for temperature control.

Say you’re just born, wet and freezing? There’s a calf tanning bed, or cow cooker – a clam shell that circulates 70-degree air to warm and dry the calf in a dark soothing environment. Man … what a deal; so Cow (Club) Med. People say cows are dumb, but I say no one feeds, waters, milks or medicates me while scooping up my poop and cleaning my house!

Cows at Twin Oakes have it made.

They showed us where and how they store feed, how they moved and processed manure and a pasture full of solar panels to generate power. What an operation. Back to the office to study how a dairy is run.

This is where I realized dairy farming is not old-fashioned and sweet. Dairy farming is high science and technology. Our mentor was the herdsman for this farm. She showed us binders and computer spreadsheets documenting every single detail of dairy operation.

Everything is tracked in minute detail, so the farmer can make well-thought-out decisions regarding process or herd changes. Every cow has a sheet detailing every event in her life, her parents, who she dated, mated and calved, what she’s produced for milk, when she’s been sick, high points, low points, everything!

She said it’s an industry standard used to decide breeding, selling and maintenance. Oh! It’s a Cow Fax! So cool!

Dairy farming is way out of my league, an overwhelming – but amazing – operation. If people knew of the intense work, care and science involved, they wouldn’t complain about milk prices: they’re a bargain!

I am grateful to the people who carry on the tradition of dairy farming, a true labor of love.

Linda J. Haley is a nine-to-five working stiff reporting on her love of rural life as she learns about all things country.

 

Filed Under: Agriculture, City Slicker, Opinion-Editorial Tagged With: ,

4H Small Town Training Yield Big City Skills

April 22, 2011 By Leave a Comment
E-16-2011 mccmc (Haley - City Slicker) (2)

 

City Slicker

By Linda J. Haley

I got a phone call early one Saturday morning: “Hey, Linda, What are you doing?”

Um, padding around in my bathrobe, looking for coffee? “Oh, I forgot we don’t usually call you on a weekend, but since you’re up you might want to head down to Morrisville.”

My brain’s not processing. Morrisville? Why?

“Because, my wife’s judging this morning, and she thought you might be interested.”

Judging? Horses? Where, what time?

“Not horses; presentations put on by 4H kids.”

Oh, OK. 4H presentations sound like fun.

I envision more of what I saw at the State Fair, just on a smaller scale. Kids dressed in white, showing cows or talking about their projects in sewing or horticulture or health. Cool, I’ll grab some coffee and hit the road. Calling a friend for the fastest directions, I zoom the back way through Peterboro until I reach a campus in the middle of nowhere.

Since my friend had kids in this district, I knew which door to enter and where to go, otherwise you’d be sending out the dogs to find me once I was reported missing by my editor.

I was greeted by Kimberly Williams, who told me 60 kids were presenting today, from kindergarten to age 18. Wow, all in the gym? She laughed and said no; see all those neon signs at each classroom door?

Each classroom has children of the same age group giving presentations. I look past her to see flag upon flag down the hall. I can’t believe there is livestock being handled in all those rooms.

We couldn’t even have snacks in my school, let alone show a cow. I look at her and tell her this.

She laughs, looks at me and says let me escort you and show you what’s going on. I pass classroom after classroom, filled with children holding all kinds of stuff, some dressed in costumes. I mean there was EVERYTHING in those classrooms. Ohhh, presentations, like a massive show-and-tell, without the livestock!

I didn’t know 4H did this kind of thing. It’s part of the 4H youth development program sponsored by Cornell Cooperative Extension of Madison County. Youths working in individual clubs research and create presentations to be done in front of a judge. They’re presented annually at city, district and state levels for kids who want to match skills with other 4H regions.

The judges are usually community leaders or former 4H members. Presentations are a minimum of nine minutes up to 15 minutes long. Presenters dress for the event, use props and are to stand and speak confidently on their chosen topic, fielding questions from the judges and audience.

They also learn to say, “I don’t know,” with grace. Once the presentation is finished, the child leaves the classroom with the judges to review their performance and get hints and pointers.

I snuck into the junior’s level of presentations of under-14-year-olds. Let me just preface by saying I hate public speaking, and I’ve had to do a lot of it. I was blown away by these “kids.” I wish I had a third of their skills and poise!

I lucked out, catching a horse-crazy group of girls-bonus! I learned about Proud Spirit horse sanctuary from Melanie Cotter, a three-legged miracle from Amanda Cranwell, Horse ESP from Samantha Spoor and new information about Secretariat from Meghan Cranwell.

These young ladies really knew their stuff and gave excellent presentations.

In closing, the girls have to recite their sources and repeat each question from the audience prior to answering. Plenty of adults could learn a lot from their techniques.

The judges sitting right in the front row are professional, but not scary.

I can’t say enough about their skills. These women confidently strode up to the front, spoke up clearly, had perfectly timed PowerPoint presentations, used flip cards, and were better than most professionals at keeping the audience riveted.

They did their homework, and it showed.

My favorite girl displayed true grace under fire during an equipment malfunction mid-presentation. Her evil tripod started to sink, but she snatched it right up, grabbed her cards and kept right on going, not missing a beat.

That’s a girl I want on my team!

This is an incredibly valuable opportunity for skill-building that 4H provides. It’s immeasurable how much this training will help these kids in the real world in areas far outreaching public speaking arenas.

I really wish I had been a country kid involved in 4H; if your kids aren’t in it yet, don’t wait; contact Cornell Cooperative Extension to find the group nearest you.

Filed Under: Agriculture, City Slicker, Morrisville, Opinion-Editorial, Youth Tagged With: , , ,

Chicken Run

April 9, 2011 By 1 Comment

 

City Slicker

By Linda J. Haley

(April 2011) After my egg hunt article, some suggested I could just get some chickens myself, so I’d have eggs all the time. To be honest, chickens scare the hell out of me, but if I’m going to be a farm girl, I should at least entertain the idea, right?

The day I wrote the rug column, I asked my friend Charles Page about chickens. Well, I had no idea the passion people have for chickens. Charles confessed to be quite enamored of the birds, spending many hours researching breeds and keeping methods, and if I had the desire, he was the go-to man for advice.

I knew nothing of chickens, except whenever I got near them they freaked out and either ran away or, worse, toward me – in a fury of feathers!

Charles went on to tell me they have different kinds, some just for meat, and some just for eggs, and some could be used as both: a chicken hybrid. I asked how much care they needed, and he said there were all kinds of different coop styles, describing the finer points.

He felt chickens were pretty low maintenance, just give them feed mixed with granite or limestone grit, a place to nest and lay safe from predators and clean out the coop, but not too often, as it gets damp.

Wait … Did you say granite grit? Isn’t that stone dust, the stuff they use with brick walkways? Why would you feed a chicken that? Charles’s response freaked me out.

“Well, you have to … they don’t have teeth, you know.”

What? No, I didn’t know! Why would God make something that needs to eat and not give it teeth? How do they chew the corn? Charles patiently explained they have a gizzard that the stones go into, and stay there (creepy!), so when the bird eats grain, it gets ground by the gizzard and passes to the stomach (still creepy).

So they peck around looking for pebbles for their gizzard so they can do lunch? Exactly.

I look at Charles and say what’s the mystery? Obviously they cross the road to get to the stones on the other side because they’re out their own side! Sheesh!

Then Charles says, “Anyways, you go out to the yard, call the chickens, they come, you scatter the grit-feed, and you’re done.”

Wait, you call them? They know this?

“Well, they do have ears, Linda.”

What? I have never seen ears on any chicken, not in person and not in picture books. I pick up a toy chicken in his apartment and hand it to him: show me these ears! Poor Charles realizes he has an idiot on his hands, points and says, ‘here, like small holes.’

I am officially freaked out. No teeth? Chicken ears? I have heard enough. As I leave, Charles says “Haven’t you ever heard that saying ‘scarcer than hen’s teeth?’”

Where would I hear that in the city? What I hear, you can’t repeat! He says come back when I’m ready to take the plunge. Yeah, right! I’m off to Fenner, deciding to ask my friends if they know about the chicken creepy teeth and ear situation.

Once they stop laughing, they say of course they know, everyone knows, but did I know they don’t pee. What? They have to pee, anything that drinks has to pee. Nope they just poop, with liquids and solids all going to the same place.

Well, of course; everything about them is bizarre!

Then they tell me about chicken glasses. Now I’m sure there are messing with me. But noooo, frighteningly, they’re real. Apparently these charming creatures are cannibalistic; if they see blood or a sore on another bird, they will peck it to death. Joy! Tiny red-colored glasses held on the chicken’s beak with a cotter pin use colored lenses to prevent chickens from seeing red blood, thus calming their behavior.

God help me. I have had enough chicken education for one week. I don’t think I’m going to be a chicken kind of girl, folks; sorry. But not totally giving up, I did visit a wonderful Amish farm to learn about rolling chicken coops and free range practices. I noticed their birds were pretty mellow, without any glasses.

Then I found out my farm school class is designated to tour this farm in a month, so I’ll save the experience for another column.

In the meantime if I see chickens, I’ll be the first to run!

Linda J. Haley is a nine-to-five working stiff reporting on her love of rural life as she learns about all things country.

 

Filed Under: Agriculture, City Slicker, Opinion-Editorial Tagged With: , ,

A Stitch in Time

April 3, 2011 By Leave a Comment
Alberta & Rug

 

Alberta and Braided Rug 1968: She had finished the rug in June 1967 and is shown here adding another foot to the perimeter in May 1968. (Photo courtesy Charles Page)

City Slicker

By Linda J. Haley

(Oneida, NY – March 2011) Country women are amazing. They can raise, kill and cook anything, complete any chore required, run all sorts of heavy equipment and sew.

That’s right. I said, “Sew.”

I’ve never ceased to marvel at the handcrafted items folks take for granted in the country. It’s just another skill in their arsenal. They stare at me when I ask how they know all this stuff. I’m convinced it’s genetic. Sure I can sew a button or mend a tear, but I can’t sew for squat.

Knit? Crochet? Quilt? I’ve taken classes. I’ve asked friends to teach me.

Hopeless.

I always stop to admire handcrafted art wherever I travel in Madison County. Visiting my friend Charles Page, I was immediately taken in by an oval rag rug on his floor. It exploded with brilliant colors woven into fantastic patterns. It was enormous – filling the entire living room.

Small white wear marks were visible here and there, telling a thousand family stories: first steps of tiny feet, beloved pets, re-arranged furniture from multiple moves, family gatherings … entire lives lived out on that rug.

I asked Charles how this marvel came to be and he said, “Oh, my wife Alberta made that back in the ’60s when she was working at a remnant place.”

Me: ‘She MADE it? How? Who taught her? Tell me everything!’

It seems George and Iva Eager ran a remnant shop on Buyea Road out of an old hop house. They would buy leftover materials, mostly wool blends, by the pound from a fabric factory in Binghamton, filling their station wagon to the roof to bring back to re-sell as remnants.

After a few years of business, the aging couple decided to clean out the inventory of the building’s attic. They asked Alberta if she’d like “some” fabric for herself. She agreed to bring some home that night. When Alberta left work, George had already filled Alberta’s wagon right up to the headliner with fabric.

The rug idea was born.

With children about her feet and daily chores to be done, Alberta worked away at the rug. She cut the fabric into strips, rolling it into tight balls, pressing and folding down the seams as she went along.

Then the winding began.

The challenge was to keep the tension tight at all times, but not so tight that when you turned a corner it would lift off the floor. Round and round between work, kids and farming, Alberta completed the rug, and it was huge! This beloved rug went with Charles and Alberta to every home throughout their marriage, her passing, and into his retirement apartment after he finally left the farm.

I asked him about that – if the rug gave him comfort, reminding him of times past. I asked if he had a picture of her working on it. Charles emailed me a picture and these words:

“In the picture you can see she has unrolled the four or five inch rolls that pressed the strips tightly together, and is sewing the inch (or so) wide strips onto the rug.

“When I had to move to my apartment, at first I doubted if my living room would be big enough for the rug, but my daughter Jill told me that she could just remove a few rounds on the outside edge. We found, however, she didn’t need to.

“I wouldn’t have felt ‘at home’ without that rug! Actually, as the kids were helping me move into the apartment, I felt sort of alone, lost and disrupted. As soon as I stepped onto that rug I felt at home.”

Charles went on to show me the skills Jill had inherited from Alberta –she’s a quilter! He showed me the “chicken quilt” she made for his bed to remind him of his love of chickens and farming. He showed me quilted wall hangings from Jill and other family members, all exquisite.

And it wasn’t an apartment, it was a home.

Again I wondered if anyone else sees the stitches in these fabrics are stitches marking times and events, people and personalities and the love of family throughout.

Stories are like quilts, weaving time and place to record events.

Sadly, this is the last story I worked on with my dear friend and mentor Charles Page before he passed away at the age of 90 on March 22.

While I am devastated by the loss of his friendship, immense knowledge, and kind and gentle ways, I am blessed that Charles was woven into my life story, if only for a few stitches in time.

Linda J. Haley is a nine-to-five working stiff reporting on her love of rural life as she learns about all things country.

Filed Under: Agriculture, City Slicker, Oneida, Opinion-Editorial Tagged With: , ,

The DMV and a Meal at Morey’s

March 31, 2011 By 1 Comment
moreys 001

 

Pictured is Lynn Morey behind the counter of his Oneida diner located on Phelps Street.

City Slicker

By Linda J. Haley

(March 2011) Winter can be a challenge. While beautiful and cozy in front of the fire armed with seed catalogues, you’re dying to get out there and start something! On one of those restless days I headed east.

Too icy to play outside I ask my Fenner friend to show me that diner he talks about in Oneida. Any day can be saved by a good diner! It’s going to be a bit before he can break away. I call my editor. “Is there a DMV near where I am?”  Holy cow where’s Wampsville? She gives directions and says don’t worry, you’ll find it.

I head over, ready to do battle and bleed money. Why? Have you been to the city DMV? Those familiar with “the process” take the day off work and line up outside the door at 7:30am. I have never gotten out in less than three hours.

We bring water, snacks, books, and money. We expect metal detectors, minimal service, and a fight. You never seem to have the right forms, documentation or anything!

I approach Wampsville title and registration in hand.

I bought my truck from a dealership in May and still don’t have a correct title x2 filings. This time I’m doing it myself.

As I enter I’m approached by a sheriff. Expecting him to wand me for weapons I start to “assume the position.”  He gives me a quizzical look and asks if he can help me. What? Help? DMV? He gestures toward a serene room full of smiling faces. No, I said DMV, where’s the angry mob? He looks at me oddly again and nods toward the room. I go in. There’s no raised voices, furious scribbling or digging through documents, no hard church benches and no lines. I search desperately for the “take a number” machine-there’s none to be found, oh no! I’ll never get served!

“May I help you?” She can’t be talking to me, I step up, and she IS! Not only that, but they have desks with working pens to complete forms, plus you get right back into line for the cashier! In the city you get no pen, no desk, and sit on the bench for hours watching numbers, coveting the lower number of the guy next to you. I’m so stunned I can hardly function, it’s surreal.

The cashier gives me my new registration stickers instantly, shows me all corrections are made, and says I’ll have one last wait for the title. I tell her if it arrives by it’s year anniversary I’ll be happy. Then she says no charge. WHAT? I say it’s OK, I was born in NY I know there’s a fee for everything. She says no, it’s free, besides it wasn’t your mistake. WHAT? I have never left the DMV without paying something and it’s always the customer’s error. She laughs and calls the next person.

I stumble away waiting for the hidden camera guys to pop out. Wow, if for no other reason than this DMV, people should embrace rural living!

Off to Oneida to Morey’s Diner. It is exactly what I hoped for. I love these old diners; I look for them wherever I travel.

Lynn Morey a retired police officer and his wife Cindy rescued the former Miss Oneida Diner and moved it to its current location on Phelps Street. What Lynn thought would be a” three months to open” project turned into a five year labor of love to stabilize and restore the 1930 Ward Diner, made by the Ward & Dickinson Company of Silver Creek, NY.

After an excellent ham and cheese omelet and coffee, I was granted a grand tour. Lynn showed me the surprisingly large kitchen facilities where he modified and added on. Down in the basement he showed me the once mobile car now rests on a foundation, but still has the original wooden wheels in place. Most of the original diner is intact and Lynn’s additions fit right in.

Diners are the heartbeat of small towns. In 10 minutes you’ll have today’s scoop on what’s happening. I received a warm welcome, got to review the scrapbook of the diner, containing tons of information on the original city of Oneida. This led to great diner-wide conversations about old times vs. progress.

That’s what I love about small towns and rural living; from the DMV to the town diner, everyone’s treated kindly, and instantly included like they’ve lived there all their life. A good cure for a bit of cabin fever.

Linda Haley is a nine-to-five working stiff writing about her love of rural life as she learns about all things country.

Filed Under: City Slicker, Oneida, Opinion-Editorial, Wampsville Tagged With: , , , , ,

Lenox Man Moves Mountains

March 26, 2011 By Leave a Comment
CAT HOUSE 008

 

Pictured is Kevin Skinner, his miniature Caterpillar displays and dioramas.

City Slicker

By Linda J. Haley

(Town of Lenox, NY – March 2011) Did you know there’s a Cat house in Madison County? It’s true! Kevin Skinner of Oneida Valley has a thing for Cats. Not the furry kind: the big yellow metallic kind-Caterpillar Equipment. He does big things on a small scale. Kevin creates amazingly detailed construction displays in a home workshop entirely devoted to Cat, right down to the trademark black-and-yellow paint on the walls.

This man eats, breathes and sleeps Cat!

It all started with a Cat model 518 grapple log skidder his father bought for him. Bryan Skinner worked for 30 years for Lewis Tree Service, often bringing Kevin to work to check out the equipment and observe the goings on of construction sites.

Kevin and his dad created his first display, a quarry, when he was just 16 years old. From that point forward, he’s been fine-tuning his skills for 15 years. Now, he’s the go-to guy for all things Cat, being featured five times in Toy Trucker & Contractor Magazine.

Remember when you were a kid and loved to play with Tonka trucks, Matchbox cars and train sets? Imagine never having to grow up, and your toys just get better and better. Imagine being able to create any scenario in your head right there in front of you.

Dump trucks, cranes, loaders, excavators and cement mixers, all working together to construct a road, build bridges or clear a quarry. Tiny workmen direct equipment operators, talk on radios and do labor. Construction signage is everywhere. Stacks of piping, drainage supplies and block are available to work with. Tractor trailers are on standby, weaving between miles of construction barrels and barricades. Averdi storage crates so familiar on the Thruway are here.

There’s even a Porta-John! If Kevin can’t locate a piece of equipment for his displays, he’ll make it himself. Currently, he’s working on a water truck. Often times construction companies or equipment owners commission Kevin to create custom pieces for their private collections or as corporate gifts.

Kevin applied his obsession with heavy machinery to become a heavy equipment operator at BOCES. He did site development with Lanco for five years, moving on to work with a local private contractor. Today, Kevin works at Jamesville Quarry surrounded by his passions.

Working with his beloved 990 Cat Loader, Kevin’s job is scooping up “shot rock” blasted from the limestone walls, loading it into hauler trucks bound for the crusher. This man truly loves his job!

Nothing makes grown men behave like boys more than when they’re peering at the displays ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ over all the equipment they dreamed of driving as kids! Camera phones busily snap pictures while patrons grill Kevin on all the different aspects of the dioramas.

Where can you see Kevin’s work? Kevin just wrapped up his 11th year at the Hard Hat show at the fairgrounds, and next he’ll be at the International Model Construction and Truck Show Oct. 1 in Clarence. Want to know more? Kevin welcomes reader inquiries at (315) 278-2820 or at catman429@hotmail.com.

Filed Under: City Slicker, Lenox, Opinion-Editorial Tagged With: , , , , ,

Egg Hunt

March 19, 2011 By 1 Comment

City Slicker

By Linda J. Haley

I spend so much time in Madison County; I’ve become spoiled by a few things: excellent diners, friendly people, Amish stores and brown eggs.

Brown eggs are new for me. I heard people – especially bakers – were fond of them. I went to the store and bought them, cooking, baking and boiling my fanny off. I never saw any difference.

Fenner friends slipped me a dozen from their farm. It was a lovely gesture, I really needed eggs and was grateful, but had to tell them about my research and ask if it was all hype. They told me they definitely notice a difference between store-bought eggs and the ones “the girls” provided.

I ask, “Isn’t a chicken a chicken? Eggs pretty much look the same, why wouldn’t they taste the same?”

They look at me with those knowing smiles. Take them home; you’ll find out.

I accept the challenge with flour, sugar, baking powder and chips. I love to bake, beating the heck out of the poor eggs before I add them to anything. I take them out of the box, and there’s cute little speckles on them; that’s new.

They’re different sizes, but close, also new. The shells crack the same, no big. And then THE MOMENT happened: the yolk slipped out with the white, I was blinded by the deepest, most gorgeous hue of yellow-orange exploding from the shell.

LOOK at that color – holy cow!

As I whip them, they get more beautiful, with lovely weight and balance…I am in love. This is what they’re talking about. I make cookies for a diabetic friend.

Gorgeous, natural ingredients have to play nice with evil chemical sweetener … always a challenge. They come out PERFECT. If you bake, you know this moment. Fake sweetener cookies never come out perfect; they’re OK or good enough.

These were brilliant; you’d never know they weren’t real. I always use this recipe, took years to find one even OK. Was it the eggs? They were the only new component.

Time for research. I baked more goodies. All stunning. On to bare eggs: poached, scrambled and boiled. WOW, did you know eggs actually have their own taste? They’re different, stronger, something. They’re good! I take them to work, shoving them on employees.

“Taste these!”

Soon the frenzy at my desk attracts my boss. She agrees to forget the whole thing if I bring her a dozen. By days’ end, I needed five dozen more.

I drive about Madison County on an egg hunt. I’ve driven by “fresh egg” signs before, now trying to remember where. I zoom down the hill and spot the familiar red cooler, YES! I clamber over a snow bank, bills clutched in hand, open the cooler, and … empty!

Back on the hunt on Canastota’s Main Street I see a sign for brown eggs. Everything is closed, no phone or arrows for me to inquire. Curses! I stop to think back to Open Farms Day for places with eggs.

I zip down to the Great Swamp Conservancy area to another mini-fridge with the egg sign out. Empty.

Now it’s personal.

I call my friend in Oneida Valley. There’s an egg farm right on their road. Yes! I fly to find a gorgeous sign with phone number, but am greeted by “no Sunday sales.”

I hang my head in defeat.

I respect the Sunday thing, but weekends are the time city folks have to shop. I head to Boonville. As I’m leaving Route 31, I see a small sign near a housing development: “Farm fresh brown eggs, 315-363-3452,” with an address. It’s dusk, I look like a lunatic, but I call.

A friendly voice says he doesn’t have five dozen, but he can spare two. Enough for my boss. I’m greeted by a tall, friendly man, kids and beagle about his feet. He’s got a clipboard of customers; he adds my name to it. He’s Chris Noble of Noble Farms in Verona, my hero.

I now drag dozens of eggs back to Syracuse each week from Madison County. I would love to share the wealth with everyone out there selling eggs. I only ask a few things:

If you’re out of eggs, hang a “sold out” sign. I am not a pretty site pouting at a cooler.

Please post hours/phone numbers! If you’re out there, tell me where you are!

This column has a feedback area online right under this column so anyone reading it can come out and buy your eggs.

Let’s leave the egg hunt for Easter!

Linda J. Haley is a nine-to-five working stiff reporting on her love of rural life as she learns about all things country.

Filed Under: Agriculture, Canastota, City Slicker, Lenox, Opinion-Editorial Tagged With: , , ,

Farm Show 2011

March 13, 2011 By Leave a Comment

City Slicker

By Linda J. Haley

(February 2011) It’s February in Syracuse and that means Farm Show. My first farm show was five years ago; I was so clueless, I went through one building and went home. I didn’t realize it encompassed five buildings at the state Fairgrounds. This thing is HUGE, and much more than just equipment, there’s seminars, financial planning, safety demonstrations, everything.

This year I was prepared. Well, I thought I was prepared, but it turns out there’s some serious innovations in farming. Like most folks, I saw tons of equipment that would make life a whole lot easier and safer on the body (if not the checkbook) to do tasks like wood chopping, bale management, grain vacuums, sprayers, all the labor done on farms.

Huge machines for mega-farms were in every building. Machines for planting and harvesting, tilling and plowing, even something called a “no-till” attachment – it skips a bunch of steps and gets right to planting ready. I was strolling around watching kids of all ages climbing up into the cabs of theses huge machines to sit and experience their massiveness.

My favorite was an older farmer sitting way up there calling down to his son: “Hey it’s even got one of them GPS units up in here.”

I wouldn’t doubt it; those things are so huge they probably have apartments up there.

Thanks to video displays, I finally got to see how bales get wrapped. I always wondered how those giant white plastic caterpillars lounging in fields got out there.

Probably the most striking and disturbing thing I saw was robotic technology designed for the dairy industry. It was “Jetsons”-meet-farming. This huge red robot circulates around the barn, pushing hay closer to the animals so they get a more consistent food supply.

The animals are less disturbed by the repetitive movement of the robot and, of course, the robot works 24 hours a day. In addition to the feed robot, they have robots that milk. Now this is just getting a bit weird for me. The cows wear collars with sending units that “talk” to the robot and communicate if the cow needs to be milked or not.

The cow steps in, teats are cleaned, hoses attach and the milking process begins. All the milk is tracked and calculated as it’s gathered and stored. While I understand it’s about increased production and considerably less work for the dairy farmer, I don’t know how I feel about it yet.

I think dairy farmers work their butts off, definitely deserving better money and more free time, but it doesn’t feel like farming to me if you don’t interact with anything but a computer. I’ll have to think more on it.

I took advantage of the many educational opportunities at the show. These sales reps truly study their product and can honestly answer questions based on facts and research.

I found the safest and hardiest pasture mix for my friends with horses in Boonville, and entirely different mixes for my beef cattle friends in dry and wet regions. I love having all my “whys’ answered with real data.

I found a place in Tully that’s going to help me track down seed to grow flax and spelt for my experimental acre project, I found a smart young lady that helped me figure out the best footing for a friend struggling with choking amounts of dust in her lesson arena, and I found a state program that helps private woodland owners understand how to better manage their woodlots for future growth and hardiness.

Did you know there’s a building offering just farm toys? No, not the big boy toys – all the buildings have those; no, I mean real toys. Every brand and era of tractor you can think of, plus tractor-trailers, horse- and stock-trailers, horses, barns, hay wagons, cows, pigs, chickens, anything you find on a farm, they’ve got in miniature scale metal or wood.

Lots of fun watching the kids point and beg and the older farmers reminisce about the tractors they grew up on and loved. There’s even an antique tractor show within the farm show.

I had a great time, got great tips, and need to make more time for it next year. I’m sure I missed a ton of other good stuff there, but I didn’t miss out on my free subscription to “Farming” magazine, something I hope to be putting to use shortly.

The farm show was definitely worth the winter walking workout.

Linda J. Haley is a nine-to-five working stiff reporting on her love of rural life as she learns about all things country.

Filed Under: Agriculture, City Slicker, Opinion-Editorial Tagged With: ,

Responds to City Slicker’s Column

February 23, 2011 By Leave a Comment

To the Editor:

(Feb. 2011) I couldn’t help making a comment on Linda Haley’s column “Blizz-aster” that appeared recently in the Oneida and Madison County Couriers.

She again brought to mind the differences between “now” and “back when.”

My early memories at my grandfather’s farm in the Howes Hill area of Madison County were much the same as for my own farm in the hills near Peterboro. Mostly we were unaware of any approaching snow storm. If we heard about it on the radio, we paid little attention to it.

In the fall, we had prepared for a winter of snow and the inevitable “being snowed in” for several weeks at a time. The barn was full of hay and the granary full of grain. We shoveled enough snow to get into the buildings, the cellar hatchway door and the well house. The woodshed was piled full of wood and other piles, not far away, were accessible with horses and sleigh.

Freezing pipes? What pipes? Weather-stripping? Hay or horse manure banked around the house. Gas for the tractor? What tractor? Generator? Huh! Four-wheel drive car? You mean the old Chevy with water drawn from the radiator, sitting on the floor of old hop house? Gas to run the water pump for the house and barn? The cellar full of potatoes, apples and carrots, and full glass jars furnished the calories needed for the “Armstrong” water pumps.

Winter snow brought a time of “slowdown” and relaxation. About the only work was barn chores each night and morning. A time for catch-up reading, mending, splitting kindling and cracking butternuts. Evenings for popcorn, battery radio (if the batteries were “up”) and card-playing.

The animals were equally snug in their quarters. The horses wore their blankets in the cooler horse barn. We carried water to them in pails from the well. The wooden water trough for the cows in the barnyard outside the well-house was pumped by hand each morning and drained by pulling the wooden plug as soon as the cows had had their fill for the day.

Sometimes we had our horses sharp-shod, if there was a lot of ice on the road to town. We didn’t really like that, though, for if a horse did slip and fall he could be cut up pretty bad. Some years on my side-hill farm it was a necessary evil.

The “good old days.” Mostly, we remember the best ones!

Let’s say the “different old days.”

Charles E. Page, Oneida

Filed Under: Agriculture, City Slicker, Front Page, Oneida, Opinion-Editorial Tagged With: , , ,

To Market?

February 18, 2011 By Leave a Comment

City Slicker

By Linda J. Haley

(Feb. 2011) Spring means renewed excitement and anticipation for playing in the dirt. This year it’s doubly exciting because two of my foster farms have offered to lend me a little patch of paradise to plant on.

I’ve been thinking about it all winter!

The other day under high winds, bitter cold and deep snow, I got a lesson on soil maps at the cozy Cary kitchen table, followed by soil testing and methods of fertilization. I plan to test each location to formulate a plan to prepare each plot.

I’m interested to see what the soil, planting and growing differences will be because one plot is at a higher elevation and hilly, and the other flat and in the valley. According to the hill folks, they are usually two weeks behind the valley in terms of harvest.

According to soil maps, they have similar designations but visual memories (pre-snow) were they looked completely different: so many soil classifications providing so much information. It puts a whole new spin on “looking for land” if you’re shopping for a farm.

Then the million-dollar question from friends, farmers and my school mentor:

“What are you going to plant, Linda?”

My brain is shouting ideas – I’ve never had so much land to luxuriate in! In city gardens, space determines everything. You plant what you can eat or share in our limited growing season, with whatever seeds or plants you can find.

Soil? If you have “land,” you toss in peat moss and wing it. If you don’t, it’s a container full of potting soil.

I don’t know what I want to grow; I DO know that whatever I grow I don’t want it to go to waste, rotting in the field. I understand it’s not truly wasted, you till it under, but wasting food is against everything I believe in. I express this to my mentor and farmers, getting the same response: ‘You have to find a market for your crop, Linda.’

I love the farm market, but how’s that going to help? At the local market, everyone will have the same produce I have, what’s the point? No, a “market”- a “niche”- something people need, then grow to that need, providing an outlet for whatever you produce.

Ohhhh. Off to research. Some ideas: talk to restaurant folks, see what kinds of high-end veggies you might grow for them. Inquire at schools or nursing homes; see if they need consistent sources of fresh food. Start a CSA.

Community Supported Agriculture is where consumers purchase a share in the farm crop before its grown, providing the farmers seed and prep money. When the crop’s in, consumers get their share back in veggies and farm products. Sounds great, but advanced for my stage of production.

Growing routine produce plus a few unique items to bring to local farm markets is still an option. I love veggies, but what about fruits? What about grains? Can I grow those? Fruit lends to jams or pies, which provide additional markets, and grain can be processed and stored.

But fruits take a while to get established and produce and can be somewhat fussy – fragile to weather and pests. This brought more realizations. Whatever crop I chose, I have to be sure my farms had the equipment to plant, fertilize, cultivate and harvest.

Grains were a whole new world for me in that arena. I wouldn’t know a combine if it bit me on the fanny or how to operate it!

I sat back, took a deep breath and thought. Maybe I’m getting too crazy. Maybe the soil will choose for me. I know you can tweak soil to your needs, but maybe I should just work with the land.

But I have to buy seed now.

Then it hit me: it’s OK to experiment. These farmers know I’m a clueless city slicker; they probably expect crop failure. For once, this could be a good thing.

I’ll divide my land into lab experiments, growing different things in different patches. I’ll learn what plays nice and what doesn’t. I’ll learn what likes which location, and who thrives and who dies.

I can develop contacts in different markets instead of placing all my eggs in one basket. Hey, this could be cool! It’ll help me figure out what’s the best crop for my city job time-constraints and what might work until I can be a real farmer.

Wow, a blessing in disguise; now I’m really excited – off to the seed catalogues!

Linda J. Haley is a nine-to-five working stiff reporting on her love of rural life as she learns about all things country.

Filed Under: Agriculture, City Slicker, Front Page, Opinion-Editorial Tagged With: ,

Blizz-aster! (Not!)

February 12, 2011 By Leave a Comment
Frozen Fenner 024

This winter scene was taken somewhere in the town of Fenner.

City Slicker

By Linda J. Haley

There I was in my office, co-workers scurrying about.

“There’s a HUGE storm coming!”

“It’s going to be BAD!”

Picture a barnyard full of chickens crying “the sky is falling” and you get the vibe. Patients cancelled appointments; employees contemplated personal days and TV stations exploded with drama. My SUV was scheduled for repairs storm day, so I was truly housebound!

Co-workers ran to purchase milk, bread, water and batteries planning to hunker down until forced to resurface and shovel out. Me? I love snow days! The crock pot’s out, I bake, make soup, do laundry, read books, sneak a nap and color my hair (secret’s out!)

Blessed with four-wheel-drive, I’ve never been stranded, so I’m amazed by snow panic. Is it a different in the country? I emailed some favorite haunts to ask about “the big storm” and winter survival overall.

Boonville: Storm? The whole season is a storm. Up here we prepare summer into fall to be ready before we need it. If you’re too late, you do without. Firewood is number one, followed by enough hay to fill the barn, weatherproofing and repairing everything in sight.

Once it hits, we spend massive amounts of time shoveling and scraping roofs. Ice and snow build-up causes building collapse.

We constantly thaw shower drains and defrost pipes.

There’s so much ice, we can’t always bring the horses into the barn. Once we rescued a horse that went onto a pond full of ice and couldn’t get up.

We bundle up to ride in six-degree weather and high winds – worth every minute of it.

Our horses get long icicles hanging from their mouths and bellies; we have to scrape them down to ride.

Oneida Valley: First, make sure the tractor has plenty of fuel in order to plow the snow after the storm passes. If the tractor is a diesel, the fuel should be a winter mix so the diesel fuel doesn’t gel up in extreme cold. Plug in the tractor’s block heater so it’s easier to start.

If you heat with firewood, have plenty close to the house under cover. Always have plenty of gasoline on hand. Gas runs your generators so that you have emergency electric power to the house. In the country, no electricity means no lights, water (well pump is electric) and sometimes no heat.

As far as our ducks are concerned, we break the ice so they have water to drink and dip in, and we don’t need to bring water out.

Our trees are on their own. Any possible damage will happen during the storm and with thousands of trees, it’s impossible to protect them.

When there were cows on the farm the barn stayed warm, 50 to 55 degrees via bovine body heat.

In drafty barns, water pipes sometime freeze, which we try to avoid by use of heat tape.

Chittenango Memories: We lived beside the Erie Canal. Our barn was along the towpath on the other side of the canal. We walked up the road to the bridge and back down the towpath to the barn other side to take care of our horses each day.

When it was really cold, we could cross the ice on the canal – then it was quick and easy to do chores. We didn’t have a hydrant, just a spigot from a line that ran from the house well through the canal to the barn.

Obviously, if the canal froze there would be a good chance the water to the barn froze, too! That made the once-quick commute to the farm a long process to get water to the horses.

We’d chop a hole in the ice below the barn and walk the horses out there to drink. Sometimes we’d carry a milk pail of hot water to pour over the faucet handles and pipes in hopes they would thaw.

Fenner: We don’t think it’s a big deal up here, if anything, it just makes you closer to your neighbors, checking on each other and sharing whatever anyone needs.

You may use snowshoes to shovel a path for the animals to the spring-fed ponds. For truly deep snow, you string bailing twine along the tops of fence posts to mark visual boundaries on the newly altered landscape for the livestock. Overall you’re never really wanting for anything on a farm, at least not for long!

We get by fine using sleighs and horses to look out for each other.

Seems a familiar story, hard work brings its own rewards, a routine concept in the country regardless of the season.

Linda J. Haley is a nine-to-five working stiff reporting on her love of rural life as she learns about all things country.

Filed Under: Agriculture, Chittenango, City Slicker, Fenner, Front Page, Lenox, Opinion-Editorial Tagged With: ,
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