Saw Mill

The saw mill is one of several pieces of equipment that has to be running to keep a farm growing. It creates a usable commodity out of a natural resource. If you have a chainsaw that will start, a tractor, a sawmill and some suitable trees, you can make lumber. Equipment, like old farmers, has a useful life span. Equipment sitting unprotected outside has a lot less lifespan, soooooo, I am trying to get a roof built over the sawmill. Ironically, I don't have enough lumber. With this in mind, I got the mill going this fall in hopes the weather would stay warm and dry while I milled the small amount it would take for the roof. Unfortunately, the roof over the sawmill was only one of the projects that needed to have posts in the ground before it froze. So, I put the posts in the ground for the sawmill, tied them together and braced them off with temporary bracing which would be used as part of the staging for building the roof.

Once the poles for the mill were in, we moved to the new fence for the goats and put in those posts. The weather was closing in and we stayed with the fence project until it was done. We needed it for a breeding pen this fall and next spring it would be useful to separate the goats during kidding season. The fence used up a lot of lumber which could have been used for a roof over the mill.

Sooo, as luck would have it, (or poor planning and cold weather which came punctually in December) we soon had a mill buried in snow, in need of wood for the roof and temporarily braced off making it impossible to mill wood until we got the roof far enough along to take down the temporary bracing. There is always a solution to these things, and it always involves lots of additional unnecessary work. After my teenage years when all work seemed a waste of my time, I made peace with the idea that work was a necessary part of life. I never completely conquered my resentment towards "unnecessary" work. "Additional unnecessary" work which I caused by poor planning was always very frustrating. Experience, however, has taught me I will be working at "something" everyday, "what" only matters that day. Being frustrated about it isn't helpful and makes it worse.

With a determined crew consisting of my daughter Hannah and her husband Buster(who graciously didn't point out how much easier it would be in warmer weather), we built the beams that will support the roof and allow me to take down the temporary bracing.

Now, I will mill lumber in the snow, so, I won't have to mill lumber in the snow. There is a certain cosmic, circular irony here that I will have plenty of time to contemplate while I am shoveling and milling.

Building a Farm

Maude working on increasing milk production.


Starting from scratch and clearing land is an inexpensive way to get into the farm business. Farming is the fun part, but making it into some type of profitable business is the tricky part. We have a myriad of possibilities and may have to do several. There are certain budget constraints to keep in mind. Whatever we decide to do, will have a zero development budget which makes it challenging.

We are currently looking at digging a cheese cave/root cellar. Despite having never made a wheel of cheese, or having sufficient dairy goats to supply the milk to support a cheese making operation, we are intrigued by the fact the cave, at least, could be done on our budget by our excavator and our raw materials (i.e. rocks and lumber from our sawmill). When starting any business, there are some things you simply cannot know before you start--in this case almost everything. How fun is this going to be!

I am sure this sounds like the idle ramblings of a wishful thinker. I like to view myself as a visionary that can see what's there before it actually appears. I subscribe to the theory, that if it were hard, no-one could do it. Ergo, I have done all sorts of things successfully using a combination of determination, blissful and massive ignorance of the possible pitfalls, and when all else fails, finally resorting to bone crushing, mind numbing hard work. Most ideas work to some extent once a gargantuan amount of effort is applied.

First things first, the first cheese cave (and probably the only cheese cave, let's be serious) is just for our entertainment and experimentation. If we can't make good cheese, there is no reason to make lots of it. Also, there are those pesky projects that I have going this winter (the sawmill roof and new outhouse/shower room--a small concession to creature comforts) and the house I should build before I am too decrepit to do it.

So, a business that will take years to develop of which we have almost total ignorance is just to juicy to resist. Hence the cheese cave. In the mean time to make a quicker business, one that might make money in my life time and requires much less equipment, work, raw materials, buildings, money and effort, we are going to make designer goat milk soap. If we are lucky, this will make as much money as Bert's Bee's does for Roxanne Quimby and will allow us to develop the cheese business and to buy the north Maine woods out from under her, and then, gamble it all to build a large cheese cave, a large dairy goat herd, a large pasture, etc. etc.

Kris has been doing the development of the soap business. She is much less experienced in business development and is doing market analysis, product testing, cost analysis, and other unfun things to make sure it will work. Being more experienced in business start ups, I am encouraging her to skip all this boring stuff and bet the farm and everything we own on the idea of the moment just like I would do.

I know this sounds crazy, but there is a method to my madness. (Pay attention now, if you have been daydreaming. This explains the kernel of apparent craziness that bubbles up in me from time to time.) Those who have started a business will recognize it as the essential ingredient to success. COMMITMENT IS EVERYTHING. All else is just a way of trying to calm your nerves before you start.

For commitment, I like to bet everything. Betting everything is a sure way to be totally committed. When success is the only option for survival, the success rate goes way up. Ninety percent of most business start ups fail because there is always plan B to fall back on. Get rid of plan B and with starvation as a real possibility, then plan A is MADE to work. Genius, huh?

Let me tell you a short story to illustrate just how well this works and how my business acumen was developed.

In my formative years, I worked for Hannaford Bros as a young produce specialist. Hannaford was building a new store in Machias. I was at a monthly store operations meeting where the main topic was the soon to be opened store. Usually, only store operations people were at these meetings, but this meeting had a broader attendance and the head of the store engineering department, a competent, distinguished fellow was there to discuss progress. Roger was the Senior Vice President in charge of Store Operations. His nickname was "the Bullet" for reasons soon to be obvious.

All store operations people live by the creed of "whatever it takes to get the job done." In Roger's case this was actually tweeked to "WHATEVER IT TAKES!!!" The unsuspecting engineer mistakenly thought when Roger asked if there were any snags, he actually wanted to know if there were any, so he said conversationally, "the lights for the poles in the parking lot are probably not going to be up in time for the opening because they are back ordered". Roger looked down the table and told him in all sincerity "if those lights aren't on the poles and working when that store opens, you will be sitting on one of them with a flashlight." None of the regular attendees doubted that at all. The point of this story is the commitment level. The engineer needed his raised for a successful outcome. Roger was a genius at that.

Applying this simple tactic to our situation, I have guided our income and bank account to near zero, and thus have raised our commitment level sufficiently to guarantee success in the new business. We will now do "WHATEVER IT TAKES!!!"

Before reading how carefully this business was set up for success, you might have thought betting the farm on a nonexistent soap business resting on the spindly legs of one unassuming (and unsuspecting) dairy goat was a bit crazy. Now, can you see the genius of it? Well, keep trying, it may come to you.

What do you think of "Maude's Milk Soap" with a line drawing of Maude's head on the label? She is, after all, providing the milk for this adventure and deserves something more than an extra flake of hay.

A Good Home Only

Kris was perusing the farm animal sites on facebook that make up the new farming community a few weeks back and ran across a live stock guardian dog for which the owner wanted a "good home", would only entertain "serious offers" and was only asking a hundred bucks. It was a Marama crossed with a Great Pyrenees that was four years old.
"Hey, Bart, look at this."
I was throwing wood on the fire and it took me a second to finish.
"Come on, you're not gonna believe this one."
I was expecting to see a good looking horse, which usually stops her aimless meanderings through these sites. We look at them together and Oooh and Aaah and then, we discuss its beauty, what we could do with it and decide it is an incredible buy, sort of a good buy or overpriced, or way overpriced, or out of their minds overpriced.

Instead, a big white dog was looking out of the picture and into the hearts of anyone foolish enough to be cruising by. Danger, whoop-whoop-whoop, danger!
"What do they want a thousand bucks?" I inquired. We had looked at every breed of livestock guardian dog awhile back and any thing with four legs and tail was a thousand bucks. I was sure the price would save me from telling her no, absolutely no, no way no how, NO!

"That's the best part--- a hundred bucks!" she gushed.

Up until that point the morning had been going pretty well. Reluctantly, I pointed out we had two dogs and another one was out of the question. No, absolutely not, no new dog.

She rushed over and gave me a big hug squeezing my neck so tightly the blood flow was being cut off and said through clenched teeth "Thank you, I KNEW you'd AGREE. I'll call and tell them we'll take it. This will be my Christmas present."

Blood flow returning, I was seeing that, actually, we needed another dog. Well, maybe it will be one we could have run loose, would stay around when we left, and watch the chickens without eating too many.

I began to ponder the "only to a good home" line that is in every ad for animals on the internet. "I really want the dog, but honestly, we aren't a very good home. We only take care of our animals occasionally, and we never pat them or show signs of affection." Maybe I should call and talk to the current owner.

Kris handled all the arrangements, and even got the dog delivered by the owner, who was I am sure, anxious to see that it went to a "good home."

A couple of weeks went by before "Frankie" could be delivered by the owner due scheduling conflicts and Kris was so excited. By the time it arrived, she was just a blur running around trying to make this place look like a "good home." In truth, I have to admit, I was excited too.

We brushed the horses repeatedly who would then roll in the mud and cleaned the goat barn several times. The goats seemed to poop a lot more than usual and the chicken coop was probably the cleanest coop in the state.

Mercifully, the day finally arrived. Kris looked me over, scruffy beard, dirty jeans, barn coat and said "may be you should go somewhere for awhile. They might not get of the car if they see you."

"Okay-- I'll trim my beard and give myself a hair cut and try to look less like a serial killer." This seemed to satisfy her and she went on to correct something else that might indicate this wasn't a "good home."

The day seemed to drag along. They lived down state and didn't leave until noon. I was just doing the goat's evening feeding when they arrived. It was getting dusky and kind of hard to see. I waved trying to look at least like a friendly, well groomed serial killer who takes good care of his animals. I directed them to the other barn where they could find Kris. As they pulled away, I peeked into the small station wagon. I couldn't see the driver, but there were two teenage boys who appeared to be smothering in white fur, in fact, the back of the car behind the rear seat, the rear seat and part of the front passenger seat were filled with it. For an instant a huge white head filled the entire front passenger's window and then the car disappeared down the driveway. I hurried after the car anxious to see if my eyes were playing tricks in the low light level.

I was getting there just as the car was emptying. Kris was still talking to the driver and assuring her it was the right place. The two boys got out and the dog began to get out. It got out some more- and some more- and still some more dog got out. It came over to the driver who was still in the car talking to Kris through her window. He had to lower his massive head to the level of the driver's head to lick her face with a huge pink tongue. BIG dog. After the dog and boys got out, I could see another passenger that had been hidden in back seat on the other side of the dog. Introductions were exchanged and the driver got out. She in contrast to the dog was a small thin woman that weighed a lot less than the dog and probably would be cheaper to feed no matter what she ate.

Kris and she were chattering away like long lost friends and making over the dog. The owner had correctly identified who was in charge and who cut the checks and who all dealings had to pass through. I was left to make small talk with the teens, who it turns out were well mannered and well spoken young fellows. They were obviously very attached to the dog. They had gotten Frankie as a pup to watch the goats and chickens at there small farmstead. Close neighbors, busy road and Frankie had ended up on a chain. Too bad, these kids loved the dog and were doing the responsible thing. These were good kids. I hadn't said a word to the mother and already held her in high regard. We all hope we would have the kind of character it takes to do the right thing too, but I think it is pretty rare. She was putting the dog's needs ahead of the family's wants. Makes you want to try hard to be worthy of such a painful decision.

They stayed quite awhile reluctant to leave, but finally when all excuses for staying were exhausted they piled back into the small car and drove slowly out of the driveway. Sadness hung in the air.

We had slipped a horse lead line onto "Frankie's" collar and he began pulling me down the driveway after the retreating car. "It's Okay Frankie, good boy." I dug in and slowed our progress down to a halt somewhere around the goat barn. Rosie was barking at Frankie threateningly. Kris caught up and we both made over him. "It's Okay Frankie" we repeated hollowly. It was a lie and we both knew it. Everyone involved was trying to make his life better, but there would be some heartbreak first.
It was getting dark and we hadn't eaten and neither had Frankie. One of the things we do at the farm is feed our animals good. The dogs get a good dose of home canned dog food from meat scraps we can after we butcher. This goes on top of their dry food which is pretty boring day after day with no toppings. Frankie ate heartily- a huge relief and a very encouraging sign.

We needed to secure Frankie for the night. We didn't want him to take off on an epic journey to locate his former owners which would make the Disney channel if successful or more likely, end in tragedy. So we walked Frankie around giving him his first glimpse of Missed Skeet Farm and the area we hoped he would keep free of predators, then, I tied him to a post inside the barn with a horse lead and went to bed.

I got up three or four times that night, got bundled up and walked him around the farm in the dark using the same path. I kept a firm grip on the rope and a free hand to pat him when he was close enough. Each of the walks lasted a good half hour. I was trying to get him through the first night without leaving him alone too long. I didn't get much sleep, but that isn't too unusual around here and dawn finally came. Kris was up now and she has a way with animals that I don't. She fed Frankie and untied him, then we went about chores and Frankie followed her around. Frankie stayed within a short distance as we moved about. If Kris walked toward him, he moved away quietly, maintaining his distance. When I moved toward him, he moved away and grumbled vocally- not growling just grumbling. Annoyingly, he never grumbled with "Sleeping Beauty" who spent the night in peaceful repose while I spent the night trying to be a compassionate pet owner and keep Frankie from feeling too lonely.

In pictures, Great Pyranees and Maramas are always laying down and watching the herd from a good vantage point. For some reason it surprised us when that is exactly the way Frankie spends most of his time. When we would move, Frankie moved and found a good spot and laid down to watch what was going on. Occasionally, he would bring his head up, stare intently and trot off barking in that direction. At first we worried he might not turn around and come back, but just keep going. Fortunately for everyone, he travels only short distances from the "herd" and then eventually returns to lay down and watch again.

As I mentioned earlier, we hoped when we considered getting a new guardian dog that it would stay close, without being fenced or tied, even when we drive away. Frankie is that dog. After a week or so, he finally quit barking and grumbling at me to warn Kris when I was approaching. The first few days, he would look in the kitchen window and bark to warn Kris whenever I moved around inside. Apparently, my attempt to look less like a serial killer was not fooling Frankie. After a week or so I could occasionally get a hand on him in passing give him a pat. By the end of two weeks, he and I were fast friends. Where someone goes, Frankie follows-- he is great company.

You can tell he is enjoying doing the work he was bred to do. He moves with purpose and dignity, satisfied with his new job and new surroundings. Frankie loves Kris and tolerates her dull assistant patiently.

So, I think he believes and in fact has come to the "Good Home" that Frankie's previous family hoped he would find. Kudos to them for making a very tough decision.

Cold Snap

Winter brings challenges to the farm. The thermometer is stubbornly staying below zero this morning so we will have to work a lot harder to keep the animals comfortable. I just went down to check on Rosie one of our livestock guardian dogs who lately is happier outside than in. I checked twice over night to see if she had had enough of the great outdoors and was ready to go in the barn. It is -2 at 4:00 AM and dead calm. For my concern, she barked at me while I was crunching my way down to see how she was doing. She was fine and when I opened the door to the barn she was not the least bit interested in going inside where the temperature is always much warmer. Fine, stay outside. I guess as long as there is no wind, and she has a bit of hay to curl up on, I am going to stop checking. I probably stand more chance of being a farmersicle than she does of being a dogsicle anyway.

As it turns out, a farm animal's comfort is inversely proportional to yours. If you spend a lot of cold hours keeping their bedding clean, dry and fluffy, hay in the mangers, and knocking ice out of buckets and replacing it with warm water, they will be fine. You will be brutalized by the elements, but they will be pictures of contentment. The phrase "Poor dumb brute" must have originally referred to the farmer taking care of the animals.

Seeing their contentment and comfort should be rewarding enough for any farmer. I have never quite achieved this bucolic nirvana. There are times when I lug warm water down to the goat barn, pull all the water buckets, (there are seven in just this barn), clean them and refill them with life sustaining warm water, and watch every goat ignore my efforts and turn up their noses. A few hours later, I can see that they didn't bother with even a small sip. Seems kind of ungrateful. It irritates this "poor dumb brute".

Our goat herd is largely does who are now bred and growing little goats inside (hopefully) and should be drinking several gallons of water a day according to everything I read. Every few hours, we repeat this exercise with about the same results. Sometimes however you will return and every bucket will be empty. There's the rub. You have to give them a lot of water each time because that may be when they need it. Mostly, you are creating round blocks of ice for your efforts. I suppose, gratitude is just not in goats. Neither is the concept of "get it while the gettin' is good," or "drink the water while it is hot" because the "dumb brute" taking care of you is having thoughts involving an act of mayhem, a freezer and a seal-a-meal.

I do have two young bucks that stop munching hay when their warm water arrives and drink gratefully every time I deliver water. I love these two and hope they pass on this trait to their progeny. It would make doing winter chores around here a lot nicer.

Our chickens get water when the goats do and most times are ecstatic to get it and have moved way up on my list of farm animals as a result.

Rationally, I know it shouldn't matter, but, it does, and there are times when I sit by the fire and warm my toes instead of rushing right out to bring water to animals that don't seem to care much. This rather un-farmer like attitude doesn't show up at all in the summer when you can just dump the water from the buckets and refill them with a hose, but... after you heat the water on the wood stove, put it in a five gallon insulated thermos jug, lug it down to the goat barn in a wheelbarrow, beat the ice blocks out of the buckets from water they ignored last time you did this, fill the buckets and rush them inside so they are still warm, well...

It's 5:00 AM and time to turn on the solar and plug in the chicken light- we sit in the dark a lot during the short days of winter when solar gain is pretty low, but the chickens always have their twelve hours of light--keeps them laying eggs. Some of the things we do make you wonder, still, there is a wonderful natural rhythm to farming- even the regularity of the goats obstinate behavior seems to fit. Putting the animal's needs ahead of yours is good for the soul and I can't explain why. It is more satisfying than a hot meal or warming your toes by the fire, so... time to put on the head lamp and go start the chores. Boy its cold out there this morning.