Sunday afternoon

         Our new group of Cheviots was due for a health check and hoof trimming (standard sheep spa treatment) yesterday afternoon.  Normally, catching, checking eye color and hoof trimming is a sweaty, exhausting task, but Sunday was the dictionary definition of a fall day. I couldn't se a cloud from Cumberland to Amherst and the air was crisp and cool enough that we hardly broke a sweat. 

        

         

We also had lots of help from Case, our working Border Collie, and Sadie, our new barn kitten.                                                                                                                      

Case makes working sheep possible. Or at least sane. He gathers the flock and holds them in place so we can examine them.  

        

Sadie kept appearing from around the corner of the barn.  Fearless kitten that she is, she'd walk right up to the suspicious Cheviots who did not know what to make of this tiny black, furry thing. One of the ewes' eyes got wide and her ears perked up when Sadie approached her. I thought she was going to stomp at Sadie (a sheep's way of saying, "back off!").  Maybe Sadie has a future in herding?

       

Spare Ribs

I've always thought of ribs as a messy food resigned to being eaten outdoors on a hot day or away from home at a BBQ place.  In my mind they were always too sticky to be at home food if you were eating inside.

My opinion on spare ribs changed yesterday.  We were rushing to get out the door to head to Richmond.  Me for a court case and Daniel for the Fall Line Farms and Local Roots Co-op delivery drop offs.

I was inside gathering the orders and placing them in coolers and Daniel was outside doing chores.
I couldn't find the exact size spare ribs one order called for so I grabbed a slightly bigger pack and threw it in the cooler.  When Daniel came back in the incorrect pack of ribs was buried at the bottom of the cooler.  He knew where the correct pack was so we grabbed that, threw it on top and planned to get the incorrect size back in the freezer.

Our time in Richmond took longer than we had planned and by the time we got back home the wrong ribs were thawed.  Not wanting it to go to waste and not having anything else thawed for dinner I made ribs that could be enjoyed inside on a rainy night without a big sticky mess.

Well, we did it.  We had ribs, sweet potatoes and collards and only went through one napkin each.

Honey Baked Spare Ribs

1 or 2 racks of Tuckahoe Pastured Pork Spare Ribs
1 tbs Salt
1 tbs Pepper
1 tbs Paprika
2 tbs Brown Sugar
2 tbs Honey
1 Onion Sliced

Pre-heat oven to 325 F

Mix all the dry ingredients together in a small bowl.  Cut the ribs into serving size portions and lay flat in a single layer in a baking dish.  Sprinkle both sides of the ribs with the dry rub.  Don't go too heavy.  This is just a sprinkle not a coating.  Drizzle honey on both sides of the ribs. Lay onion slices across the ribs.

Cover with foil and bake 1 1/2 hours.

If you have plenty of time, consider lowering the heat to 200 F and baking for 3-4 hours.

Grass

We can say we're sheep farmers, pig farmers or cattle farmers, but we are, above all, GRASS farmers.  Without grass we wouldn't be anywhere.

Because we're grass farmers our #1 priority is the health of our grass.  Our sheep, cattle and pigs are very important to us, too, but if we don't treat the grass right we can't possibly be treating our animals right.

Cattle on short grass not ours

There is so much talk today about raising animals the way their wild ancestors would have lived.  We agree 100%, but so many times we see animals raised as nature intended on sub-par grass.  We could be wrong, but we're pretty sure the species of the past didn't overgraze their rangeland or spend their days in ankle deep or lower grass.

 Quality meat comes from quality grass and mature forage.  Mature grasses balance the animals' guts because they offer a balance of protein and energy.  The highest energy is the closest to the sun..the tips of the grass.  If you watch a cow go through a mature pasture she'll eat the tips of the tallest grasses first.

So many pastures are lacking in tall, mature grasses and in turn are low in energy.  Energy puts weight on an animal which leads to the intramuscular fat and marbling that so many folks believe is only available in grain fed meats.

Guess what? Marbling, tenderness and amazing taste isn't just found in grain fed animals.  Properly raised grass-fed meats beat a grain fed or poorly finished grass fed cut of meat any day.

Case in point: we went to a family wedding last weekend.  It was absolutely beautiful.  The family had pulled out all the stops to throw an extravagant affair.  For dinner we were served a beautiful looking filet Mignon.  Well, looks can be deceiving.  It lacked the flavor and texture we expect from our beef.

 Properly raised grass-fed and finished meats take more time, effort and energy than just "turning the cows out to pasture", but we think it's worth it and think you'll agree, too.       

Piglets!

           Annie and Tigger came to our farm late this summer from Landon Farm in Madison County.  Madison County always looks beautiful.  In July when we were burning up in Cumberland and the pasture about crunched under foot, Madison looked as green as April.

          Jennifer took us to her barn where the two sows sat happily munching Alfalfa hay in a stall with Rorsarch.  Jennifer thought that Rorsarch bred both sows about June 10th.

Annie~August 2012

           Jennifer thought right.  At least with Annie.  She had 6 spotty piglets on Tuesday October 2nd.  Three months, three weeks and three days to the day Jennifer saw Annie bred.  Breeding Annie must have exhausted Rorsarch, because Tigger decided to wait another week before she had 5 spotty piglets yesterday.

          Building farrowing huts for the sows proved nerve racking.  Would old hay bale feeders, zip ties, a tarp and lots of hay be enough of a home for piglets?  Doesn't conventional wisdom say a piglet needs 90 temperatures?

        Turns out these piglets are hardy creatures.  Annie and Tigger are both Ossabaw Island/Berkshire crosses.  Ossabaw Island Hogs were turned out by the  Spaniards on one of the barrier islands off the coast of Georgia (Ossabaw Island) when they were exploring the Americas.  The hogs were left to fend for themselves .

        Given their history, I shouldn't have been surprised when the  piglets were running around the day they were born.  By three days old they were venturing outside and running around with mom.  Our 8" logs placed to keep the piglets inside are no match for these piglets.  They have been scampering over top since then.

           They did look thankful to be snuggled up next to (and sometimes on top of) mom when it was rainy and cold on Sunday.
      
          Take a look at the piglets:

Annie's Piglets...notice the escape hatch Annie has created in the back of the hut

Hello

Curious piglets creep closer

Vampire markings and Pumpkin coloring, perfect for Halloween

Mom! Let's get her

Nursing piglets are happy piglets

       As much as we like our adult pigs we knew we'd have to like the the piglets, but until they came we had no idea how much we'd love them.   They are cute, funny and adventurous...a little like all the other baby animals rolled into one.  Well, maybe not quite since they aren't fuzzy, but they're cute enough they don't need fuzzy.  

Today around 11 am

               After we fed, watered and moved the pigs I walked away from the woods towards the hair sheep.  As usual they lazed under their grove of maple and sweetgum trees.  I looked them over and everyone seemed normal, so I turned and crossed west through the damp fescue towards the cisterns.
            No sheep were grazing near the cisterns so I headed up to the cedar grove where the wool sheep usually sleep the middle of the day away.  A young persimmon tree hung heavy with its sweet orange fruit and stopped me to eat.  A light mist drifted to the ground while I ruminated on a persimmon and that particular moment in time.
          The farm was still.  Ready for longer nights and a slower pace.  I thought maybe I should take nature's lead and curl up under a tree.  Instead I ate a couple more persimmons (I'm not the only creature on the farm enjoying these morsels of fall as I've seen the dairy cows slurping them off the pasture and the pigs gobble them up when they get the chance) and kept walking towards the wool sheep.  A few cheviots jumped up when I approached, but a raised head was the most  I got from the rest of the flock, except for one cotswold cross lamb who made me laugh when she shot out from under the old corn crib when I passed by.  She'd gotten herself covered in burrs.  Not just the seed, but the whole plant.  Seedhead, leaf, vine and all.  She looked like she was in costume for "Midsummer Night's Dream."
          After a few minutes of jockeying a small group of sheep back and forth against the fence, I caught the thespian lamb and took her costume off her.  She ran away happily to her cedar grove and I walked towards the house to do my book keeping  (not as happily).