A wild pack of family dogs

Many of you have heard of the tragedy that befell the World Hunger Relief farm 2 weeks ago, when someone or something attacked, maimed, and left for dead nearly 30 chickens. It was a tragic loss, and our egg production has really suffered.

Be happy to know that this was not the fault of someone's negligence caring for our friendly chickens, no one forgot about them or left them out all night, NO! It was actually between 6 and 8:30 PM when the strike occurred, not even getting dark yet. Our chickens, unaware that they were in danger, were still happily free ranging, enjoying the evening warmth, and would not head into the coop for the night for at least a couple hours when, from nowhere, there was a massacre that befell them.

Coyotes don't kill for sport. Coyotes don't leave 30 uneaten dying chickens on the ground. This was a sad and pointless kill, a waste of the life, energy, and food that could have sustained many. This was a stupid and foolish act.
We surmise that this was the work of wild dogs. Dogs, reared outside the confines and bounds of the domesticated homes their preceding generations have known, they now have began a re-wilding process which has given them back the desire to kill but without the instinct and natural understanding to kill only what is needed, respecting the balance of what the earth provides. They do not kill to sustain themselves, they kill for the fun of it and it is terribly sad.






Yesterday I learned that a pack of dogs, similar to those pictured here, is the responsible party for this killing spree. And at about 6pm, after all my afternoon chores I spotted them. Prancing across the pasture headed straight for the fence surrounding our chickens were four HUGE dogs!! They looked so happy and free, excited about the wretched game they were about to play with our hens. I was hopping mad and so, with adrenaline pumping, hands waving and lots of hollering, I chased them in my skirt and flip flops through 8 acres of pasture, tailing them all the way to the end of the farm before they wriggled through the back fence and were free. The chickens were saved for another night! But so were the dogs.

Tonight me and my husband will be ready with the farm shotgun, hiding in the tall sorgum sudan grass. Is it worth the death of a wild dog to save our 80 remaining hens? I don't know. We're just planning to scare them off with the shots and deter them from coming back, but we'll see what happens.

Wish us luck,
Jessica Bullock, Livestock Intern

turkey.

turkeys are peculiar creatures. at the farm, we have the joy of herding the little ladies out to pasture on a daily basis where they happily feed on sunlight, grass and farm-fresh air. until thanksgiving rolls around.

rather than raising beautiful heritage breeds, we rely on the good graces of cargill, who graciously grace us with 100-odd turkey chicklings (poults), as well as donating their bedding and supplemental feed. thank you corporate kindness.

papa ghana: turkey man of the year 2008.

enough of my pastoral ponderings . . . and back to down and dirty farm life (note the farmers in charge of the farm's turkeys!). this morning, herdsman raymond mcgee/mcginnis small gathered and guided our friendly fowl to their pasture plot. like the dumb domesticated beasts that we all are, they were soon distracted (probably by some shiny object) and thundered full-speed in my general direction. if you've never seen a turkey run/waddle-at-full-speed, they rev their engines like turbo jets prepared for take-off but remain ground-bound due to their bountiful bosoms.

rodeo wrangler:
turkey man of the year 2009

well, in their great rush, only lovely lady got her dinosaur feet stuck in a mud puddle. and flap as she might - her flappage was all in vain (turkeys are suckers for pathetic deaths). i hopped the fence just as her scrawny neck went limp and her beady head turned blue. so i said a prayer - asked the great herdsman to carry her to the processing house for final rites. after a cup of coffee.

1. sharpen knife.



2. hang bird.



3. slit throat. (those americorps members can do everything!)




4. skin and eviscerate.

i am grateful to know the sunlight and air that nurture our food to life. to know the green pasture and garden soil that feed us. and to share the bounty with each other over a bonfire. rather than view death as the end, we see new life. i suppose there's a parable in there somewhere.

rather than think too much, we give thanks. and dream up new possibilities for something that could so easily have been discarded. i guess that's what the dream's all about. let's not waste it.

the Waste-Not Wagon.

God bless y'all for your support and prayers. as a small renegade on the farm have acquired a bus. i introduce to you the Waste-Not Wagon.



Vision of the Wagon

To bring together neighbors near and far who believe that another Way is possible.

Mission of the Wagon

* Empower communities to become food- and resource-secure
* Support communities to improve health and well-being through growing food
* Encourage communities to share local resources
* And above all, love God through loving neighbors.

Become a Wagoneer

We Wagoneers need all the help the Lord is willing to offer. Hospitality. Prayer. Agricultural and Engineering experience. Stories. Book recommendations. Garden tools. Saved seeds. And friends along the Wagon trail. As Wendell Berry said, “Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor. Love someone who does not deserve it.” And if the Lord has blessed you with monetary abundance, please share. If not with us, with your neighbor.

For information on the projects we will have on the Wagon and to find out how to help, visit our website: http://wastenotwagon.wordpress.com.


love, the raggedy wagoneer.

Farm Update: Heat Edition

The number one topic of conversation these days on the farm is the heat. Texas can be brutal and this summer is turning out to be a scorcher. We've had mostly 100+ days for the past 2-3 weeks. We're scrambling to find extra shade and relief for all the plants and animals... not to mention ourselves. I grew up in Texas and in the past I would have been primarily concerned about keeping myself out of the heat and comfortable. At the farm we have to set aside our own comfort for the good of the whole system, plants, animals and soil.

It was a blessed morning this past Tuesday when I went to feed the chickens... in the rain. A cold front brought us a break with highs only in the 90s. Rain is usually an opportunity to hole up inside with a good book or movie and be lazy. At the farm it was a good day to be outside and enjoy a refreshing shower. I appreciate so much more the life and refreshment that the rain brings.

That morning I also remember praying and thanking God also that the rain is a reminder of our common humanity since it falls on the just and unjust alike. Now the sun gives us the same reminder as it beats down on us. This also a reminder that although God sends rain and sun equally to everyone, we have made sure that such equality does not continue. The homeless, poor and elderly are beaten down by the dangerous Texas heat while the wealthy relax in their air conditioning. Part of getting back to God's intention may be suffering in the heat more as we also try to help those who have no choice.

Some recent highlights:

• On our field trip to Stephenville we visited Tarleton Agriculture Center and Veldhuizen Texas Farmstead Cheese, and learned tons from both. Unfortunately we didn't make it in time to get a tour and samples from Wiseman House Chocolates.



• Urban Gardening Benefit Dinner w/ Angela Medearis was a big success. (We're still enjoying the leftovers)



• Matt Hess returned from a consulting trip to Malawi (report coming soon hopefully).



• David Cole is in Haiti and will also hopefully have a report for us as well.



• A farm contingent made their way to Bushnell, IL for the annual Cornerstone Festival put on by JPUSA. They should be back tomorrow.



• Finally we will be at the New Baptist Covenant Regional Meeting in Oklahoma August 6-7. Mark your calendar you Baptist types!

Originally posted at What Would Jesus Eat?

Saying adieu...

It was Tuesday morning. We started the day off together. We ate together and we worshiped together. Then some of us left home. Those of us that went set out to explore great land beyond our small farm just north of Waco. Those that stayed behind valiantly continued with everyday tasks that farming entails.

Twelve of us made the trip down to the city of Austin for two days filled with farm tours and adventures. Tuesday was overcast and drizzly, but that did not dampen our spirits. We met the much needed rain with a smile as we met with a radical urban farmer intent on changing the ways of the world. Then we explored the wonders of Whole Foods and lost ourselves in a local book shop.

We spent the night at the house of a fellow farmer. Him and his three house mates, people whom we barely knew were more than willing to stretch out a hand in hospitality. A sure sign that the good in this world continues to out shine the bad.

On Wednesday we rose with the sun and started the day off with prayer. The sun had risen and with it came an unseasonable warm day. We visited another radical urban farmer whose enthusiasm and passion brought joy to our hearts. We then visited some more oases in the bustling city: community gardens.

It was time once again to share a meal together, so we took advantage of the sunshine with a picnic lunch in the park. After relaxing under the boughs of a large live oak eating a meal that had been lovingly prepared for the occasion, it was time to depart.


We set off to the airport to bid farewell to a sister, to a friend...

As I stood there watching my family, my friends, my community drive away, I was filled with sadness... Each one of them had become a part of me and yet their lives would go on without me. They would continue to work side-by-side, walk hand-in-hand, live day-by-day... I realize that our lives became intertwined for only a brief moment and that only by the grace of God will we all be together again...

And yet looking back, I have no regrets. The past twenty-one months of my life have been a blessing and an adventure: a blessing full of highs and lows and fasts and slows, an adventure that has taken me up and down and all around. I have learned more than I can even begin realize. I've learned about farming and living and loving and eating and breathing and praying and just being. My eyes have been opened and I have seen the glory of the Lord...

Each day I spent there was beautiful in and of itself. I have physically left that place, that place which I have come to call home, but I will ever be grateful for that time and that place and those people...AMEN!

on fairytale feasts and freak farmers.

we celebrate our fellow farm friends with feasts of donald duck pate and cinderella-esqe pumpkin - dancing and dining in a fairytale world with popeye, peter pan, and neil rowe miller. singing joyful joyful this little light of mine.

we name our livestock with a nod towards prestigious literary references - (aldous) huxley hamilton and donnie (of the big lebowski).

we garden gangsta-style with kids in the community, careful to avoid dirtying their new nike airs, quick to embrace growing enthusiasm in salad consumption and pickle fermentation.

we spend our afternoons mainlining caffeine and consuming large farmer words like mycorrhizal and saprophytic as applicable to soil biology a la wisdom of d.cole.

we roadtrip to gatherings of christian-libertarian-environmental-capitalist-lunatic-types, dressed in crocs and cowboy boots, carhatts and cardigans.

we eat up the words of a man in the business of mob-stocking herbivorous solar conversion lignified carbon sequestration fertilization.



we are encouraged by long, late-night talks with folks from places not here living out the dreams in our heads like we didn't think possible. knowing full well God is behind these mysteriously magical meetings.

we celebrate our sabbaths under the old tree, perched upon defunct yard-swing reading rilke aloud, rolling in the grass, racing old bicycles up and down the old farm lane.

we like banjos and prefer our guns unloaded (except when the skunks come after our chickens), and our knives dull (except when harvesting salad greens). regardless of the former, we are blessed to read about all things ted, white, and nug every sunday morning over pancakes.

we are not the only ones. "we are the new blood in the old body." we are part-time poets, merry music-makers, sabbatically-estranged students, theorizing theologians. patched together, we are that crazy ragtag body of christ.

"By means of his one Spirit, we all said good-bye to our partial and piecemeal lives. We each used to independently call our own shots, but then we entered into a large and integrated life in which he has the final say in everything. Each of us is now a part of his resurrection body, refreshed and sustained at one fountain—his Spirit—where we all come to drink. The old labels we once used to identify ourselves—labels like Jew or Greek, slave or free—are no longer useful. We need something larger, more comprehensive." 1 Cor. 12:12-13

love, gretel (who, in her fairtytale mind, smells not of dirt but actinomycetes - with a hint of patchouli)

Life on the farm...

For those of you who've been to the farm, you know that it is much more than a place where vegetables are grown and goats are milked. The farm is an intentional community. It is a home for twenty or so people. It is a place to learn, a place to grow, a place to find beauty in the broken world in which we live.


I've lived at the farm for quite some time. I've seen people come and I've seen people go. The community is ever changing and yet always the same. There are always AMAZING people at the farm. People that make you laugh, people that challenge you, people to learn from, people to share life with...

I've been thinking about the farm quite a bit as I sit here thousands of miles away visiting my family for Christmas. I started thinking of all the things that make the farm home.

- the 100 steps it takes to get to work in the morning
- filtering goats milk while watching the sun rise
- eating lunch with twenty or so friends, whom you now consider family, every day
- talking about poop while eating lunch
- the sound of fresh goat milk hitting the bottom of an empty stainless steel pail
- sleeping in and still getting up before eight
- eating fresh organic local produce that you helped grow everyday
- Tuesday harvest
- morning devotions
- talking to goats
- sitting around with a bunch of people in the evening, each reading their own book and yet still feeling a sense of community
- making ice cream
- drinking out of jars
- hugs, smiles, and laughter from the youngest members of our community
- trying to figure out how many times one walks up the farm lane in a given week
- knowing that if you make muffins or cookies or brownies, twelve other people will gladly help you eat them
- talking about poop while eating diner
- the daily search for the newspaper in the drainage ditch
- trace minerals and the song that goes with them
- begin able to ask fifteen people for help when you get stuck on a crossword clue
- the almost weekly "Hot and Ready" that appears on the counter in the dorm
- going around the table and having everyone introduce themselves
- the sound of a rooster crowning coming from your roommates alarm clock
- the exhilaration of leaving the warmth of your bed and stepping onto the cold concrete floor in morning
- soup of every kind
- the smell of dirt and grease
- cooking for twenty and not thinking anything of it
- farm fresh eggs
- trying to find my bed in the dark without waking anyone up or tripping over my own mess
- the Waco Trib's headlines
- pulling into the farm and knowing who is around by the cars parked outside the dorm
- the six steps it takes to get to the throne, which is the Nannies composting toilet
- the many sounds of Lolita
- the farm's traveling minstrel playing "Wagon Wheel"
- running down the stairs to get the mail because the mail lady is sitting in her car honking the horn
- warm hugs from good friends
- spontaneous community breakfasts
- Friday morning hymn sings
- delicious Ghanaian Bofrotu
- fresh bread
- sitting around and talking about anything and everything
- my favorite sound in the world - the sound of the t-post driver driving a t-post into the ground
- our buck, Rasputin, and his yellow legs