We've moved to Puna!

When we moved to the goat farm in early August, we knew our time there was limited. S & K needed help around the farm for just two months before another pair of WWOOFers arrived in the beginning of October. We really enjoyed working the the animals and learned a great deal while there. We are grateful to S & K for their generosity and hospitality and we wish them each the best of luck!

Although our time at that farm has ended, our adventure as WWOOfers has not! We have left Honaunau and moved to a vegetable farm on the other side of the island, in the Puna district south of the city of Hilo. While we have endeavored to respect the privacy of our previous host, we are currently working on the adjunct farm of a not-for-profit peace and justice organization that has been active here on the island for over 30 years. Because the organization and farm, Malu'Aina, is run by the well-known and hardworking activist Jim Albertini, we feel we can be more forthcoming about the identity of the farm and farmer.

From the website:

“Malu ‘Aina (Land of Peace) is the Hawaiian name given to the Center for Non-Violent Education and Action located ten miles south of the city of Hilo on the Big Island of Hawai’i. Malu ‘Aina is a spiritual community based on peace, justice and sustainable organic farming.”

The work here is not unlike what we've done at other farms, though on a larger scale. Unlike Kona, Puna has deep soil. Jim uses a tractor to furrow rows into the earth, much like farms we're familiar with from back home. This mean not only more space for crops than on any farm so far (corn, beans, eggplant) but also lots of weeding and weed-whacking. For the first time, we are working with the traditional Polynesian crop, taro (“kalo” in Hawai'ian), which deserves its own post.

Malu'Aina grows a great deal of taro for distribution to local health food stores and includes the surplus in food boxes donated to those in need. In addition to the veggies, we also grow a huge quantities of bananas, oranges and avocados, and a bunch of fruit we are seeing for the first time, like mangosteens. We are also getting exposure to sustainable methods we've heard about, including aquaponics - the use of outdoor fishtanks for generating fertilizers.

We like weather here a bit better than Kona weather. We are now on the wet side of the island and entering rainy season. It does rain quite a bit, at least a few inches nearly everyday, and it's very humid.

Things stay wet for days, and every morning, we find a film of moisture clinging to our glasses lenses. But when it's not raining, the skys here are truly beautiful. Big, multi-textured, multi-colored clouds with great depth set against crystal blue backgrounds. In addition to being nice and sunny at least half the time there is no vog! In the evening, we can see the stars unmatched in number (except up on Mauna Kea).

There's another WWOOFer working here, CB from California. He's now an old hand here at the farm; he began here about a month before we arrived. We get along with him very well, and are happy to have his company and guidance around the farm.

This is the last farm where we will work before departing Big Island and our stay will be the shortest. We also have the least reliable internet access so far – despite being within earshot of Highway 11, Malu'Aina is surrounded by rain forest. Still, we hope to post about the new things we are learning at least a couple of times before we leave.

Sheep Harvest

There are several different techniques and philosophies behind meat harvesting. Although we harvested the ducks by hand – knife to throat, bleeding them to unconsciousness and onto death – S prefers to put larger animals down with a small gun before bleeding them. It's easier for both the farmer and the animal this way. Rather than trying to hold down and slit the throat of a thrashing, 50-pound-plus quadruped, a quick shot to the head knocks the beast out, allowing the farmer to bleed it as quickly as a bird. Some people do harvest larger animals as we did the ducks - this is actually the method of slaughter mandated by both the Bible and the Quran - but having wrestled with these animals in the course of our work, we are believers in the gun method for anything over, say, 25 pounds. A sudden death is not only more humane but also keeps the meat tasty – fear releases a lot of adrenaline into an animals system and this changes the flavor of the flesh.

The lamb (any sheep younger than 2 is still a lamb) was tied to a stand of trees apart from the rest of the flock. This allowed S a clean shot with a .22 riffle, hitting the spot where the skull meets the spinal cord. It looked like the sheep collapsed the moment we heard the sound. It literally never knew what hit it. S went right over to the sheep and bled it into the trees. It kicked a bit as its nerves shut down but appeared not to suffer in any way.

Each grabbing a leg, we carried the carcass to the shed where we strung it securely upside-down in a door frame. S slit around the back ankles and drew the knife up the inside of each hind leg. He began to peel off the skin, using the knife when necessary for leverage and to loosen the thick layer of white tissue that attaches the skin to the muscle. Systematically working down the carcass in this manner, cutting guiding lines, scraping tissue with the knife, S was able to work the skin down around the head of the lamb in one piece. This took surprisingly little time.

After removing the penis and cutting out the urethra - very delicate work if you want to preserve the meat - S made an incision into the abdomen starting at the anus. With short, quick strokes, he slit open the sheep, and the internal organs cascaded out of of the abdomen into a garbage can we had strategically placed to catch everything. It was amazing to see the organs of the lower abdomen intact, arranged like human organs, just spilling out so easily. As with the ducks removing the organs from the upper abdomen took a bit more work. The heart and liver had to be scooped out, and the lungs had to be plucked from sacs attached to either side of the rib cage.

The skinning of the sheep took much longer, perhaps twice as long, as the actual cleaning. Once all the organs were removed, S cut off the head to be buried with the other organs. We untied the carcass from where it was still suspended in the door frame and carried it inside. S butchered it on the kitchen counter. This wasn't a professional job, mind you, but he did good work, snapping through major joints and sectioning each major anatomical piece. We didn't touch the knife but were more directly involved than at any earlier part of the process. We handled what S handed us, rinsing each piece in cold water, placing them in bags, labeling, and finally freezing them.

In addition to identifying each cut as processed the carcass, S told us about how he had learned to harvest meat. It was interesting stuff but too lengthy to list here.

Bird Harvest

Two people suspended the duck above a small garbage can. One person held the feet and pinned down the wings, the other held the duck bill in one hand and a knife in the other. The duck's main arteries were slit and bled into the can. The duck thrashed a bit, but the blood let quickly. The duck was clearly unconscious in seconds, and in a few minutes, was totally drained.

We've read that it's hard to pluck a duck, but we found it to be really easy. We took the duck inside, and dipped the whole carcass into a large boiling pot of water for just a few seconds – long enough to tenderize the skin, loosening up the feathers and quills, but short enough to keep the carcass from cooking. Laying the carcass down on a table, we simply ripped out the feathers. Some of the wing feathers were more difficult. We “cheated” taking of those with a knife, skinning the tips of the wings.

To clean the duck, a slit was made near the anus, avoiding a large gland ducks have in their tails. Through this opening we spilled the intestines and stomach into a bowl. The other organs – heart, kidneys, liver, etc. - had to be dug out by hand. The lungs are inside membranes and attached to the ribs; these membranes have to be popped and the lungs peeled out of the abdomen. Once the abdomen was cleaned out, the esophagus, gizzard, feet and head all still needed removal. The head and the feet were simply cut off with a hunting knife. The esophagus and gizzard required more finesse: a little wiggling from both the inside of the abdomen and from were the head was once attached.

Only trace amounts of blood remained in the carcass; cleaning the bird was, well, cleaner than we had expected. Care should be taken, however, when making the first incision in the lower abdomen. Ducks have a large glad sac in their tail that, if punctured, smells horrific. As do the intestines, if ripped open. The gizzard should also be handled gently. This sac will be filled with whatever the bird has recently eaten: grass, corn, cockroaches.

After cleaning, the duck looks like any bird bought at the grocery store. Dead, cold, and a bit pimply. C watched the first duck harvest, and helped clean the bird. She did the actual harvesting on the second bird, and also helped with the cleaning. A rooster was harvested in a similar way a few days later. Cleaning the rooster was a bit easier than cleaning the ducks. We skinned it, rather than plucking it. Because it was an older animals, skinning it took a bit of work, but was similar to peeling off a wet, ill-fitting sweater. But with a knife. Lots of tugging, a bit of writhing, and some prying. But the skin, feathers and all, literally peel off. Also, there is no gland sac in chickens.

It was, it must be said, much easier the second time around.

The meat is eaten. The duck was nicely done up in a fancy dish by a fancy chef but the rooster so old and tough that he was only suitable to be boiled down for stock. Nothing should go to waste. This is something that we feel pretty strongly about. Even the "waste" - guts, feathers, etc are put in a special, dog-proof, compost bin so that they'll help make new soil.

Meeting Our Meat

K has been a dedicated vegetarian for the past 11 years. C flirted with veganism in a previous life and kept veggie for K's sake before coming to the farm. Because of this, it surprises some people that we have no problem with the killing and eating of animals. We didn't start this blog to harp on about the crimes of factory farming (if you're really curious, see the link to “Meet your Meat” below) but we will say that they are so heinous that they have kept us off (most) meat for a long time.

Real farms, those few that remain, are nothing like the filthy concentration camps where most Americans get their meat from. Instead of misery and confinement, the animals on the farms where we've worked get open spaces, fresh air and – we like to think – contentment.

The best sustainable agriculture models itself after nature, so animals are an essential element. Animals provide fertilizer and pest control, eating ground weeds, brush, and insects while excreting free fertilizer. And in addition to eliminating the needs for harmful chemical herbicides and fertilizer salts they offer a healthy protein source for the human farmers.

But what about their FEELINGS, our hysterical critics cry. Don't you orgo-whatever hippies get your filthy coveralls in a bunch about the suffering of the poor widdle creatures? Well, no. We could already see that the animals on the farm lived good lives – we knew they were well cared for since we were doing the caring – and, the theory goes, humane harvest would give them a good death.

Theory, however, is one thing and reality is another. We'd seen the good life firsthand, but how could we know about a “good” death until we had seen, and delivered, it ourselves?

The opportunity came quickly. S&K were having a party. One of the guests would be a chef from San Francisco. He would be willing to make a special meal, but only if we could provide a special ingredient.

It was time to harvest a few ducks.

And not just ducks. Sheep and rooster were done as well, though not all at once. We know we've been away for a while and have a lot to catch up on, so we're going to devote the next several posts to intentional death of animals.

A Big, Spooky Hole in the Ground

There is an open lava tube on the mauka (mountain-wards) boundary of the current farm. It opens like a mouth in the rocky slope and trees grow close enough to the hole to dangle their roots over its lip

Ukey, a rambunctious goat, is chained to one of these trees. She may be a no-good fence jumper but she has sense enough not to fall in. This unimpressive mammalian instinct may be more sense than K&C have between the two of them because they managed to completely fail to notice a giant hole in the ground despite feeding a nearby goat twice daily.

A slightly stunned K brought up the hole's existence to farmer S who, being not only “in touch with his land” but also not “completely oblivious to his surroundings,” was quite aware of it. S has been inside several times and had some interesting things to say about it.

Such tubes are common around Big Island. They are essential to the ongoing work of Pele but are mostly extinct on this side. Some are miles in length but this one is rather short. It used to run clear into a neighbors property but was truncated by an earthquake. The ancient Hawaiians used them as burial chambers and Cold War Americans used them as bomb shelters.

Because of the former use S advised K to cultivate an attitude of respect should he undertake exploration of the chamber, which he of course began to plan for immediately. It's quite safe down there, so little real planning was necessary and on his next day off he went right in.

There are two chambers. The left one is short because it caved in during the quake.

The most interesting thing about it, to K's mind, was how deep the root structures of the trees above go, in some cases penetrating through nearly solid rock.

The right chamber is far more extensive.

The ceiling is low enough that you have to duckwalk or scoot along on your butt. After squeezing almost shut it widens out and the ceiling rises up so that it's walkable again. It goes back a good 60 or 70 feet.

This is far enough to not only encounter a new root system but to also find yourself in complete darkness if you turn off your light.

Most readers of this blog know K to be a big fan of horror fiction and film and he prides himself on not spooking easily – at least in comparison to C. That said, it should be noted that his favorite horror movie of the past decade is The Descent which, in addition to being a masterpiece, is about young spelunkers discovering carnivorous monsters while exploring an underground cave. K will admit to thinking about that film a lot during his subterranean journey in total blackness but will leave the quality of his peace of mind – or lack thereof – to the imagination of the reader.

S had told K that there were bones in the cave and it was unknown whether or not they were human. Given the nature of traditional Hawaiian burial practices, K feels that he should be forgiven for mistaking the following rock formation for a human skull upon first glance.

Quite seriously though, it got less spooky after not too long. The temperature underground is pleasantly cool. Water condenses and drips down the walls. It is the only sound aside from your own breath. When K did encounter the bones it was a somber – not scary – experience. Equally somber, and completely unexpected, was the following memorial.

This box contains human ashes. They belong to a niece of one of the previous landowners. The tunnel comes too narrow for further progress not far after this resting place.

A few words about milking goats and sheep

Since coming to the new farm, our days revolve around the needs of sheep and goats. This makes sense, seeing as they have the power of the majority – about 25 goats and 6 sheep (including the worlds cutest lamb). Twice a day we care for them, feeding and watering all, milking some. This very basic care we provide is not hard but it does require quite a bit of sweaty work.

The goats and sheep are kept in separate pens on the farm. When it comes to ruminants that are used to roaming (goats, like sheep, move in grazing herds) fencing is key. The goats are kept in a pen large enough that they have enough space to “browse” comfortably, with fences high enough to discourage jumping. Some people use goats to clear brush, but there's not really enough here for that. To compensate, we cut branches off of mac nut trees and hang them in the pen.

The farm has more nuisance grass than brush, so the sheep are regularly relocated. Their main pen is disassembled and moved to problem areas. It's quite small, so they only spend their nights there. During the day they are released into an even less substantial solar-electric fence. The small shock (about 9 volts) is enough to keep them inside. There's enough of a psychological deterrent that they don't even touch the fence when it's inactive.

Both the goats and the sheep are also given daily mineral supplements with their food. Because these milking animals were not bred for the tropical clime, internal parasites can be a problem. They are also given worm medication at least 3x more often than they would be in a cooler climate. The dewormer is basically the same thing you'd give your dog, and probably less difficult to do.

Aside from feeding and watering, which we've discussed in a previous post, milking is the main chore.

There are three goats (Maybelle, Callie, and Latte) and two sheep (Dolores and Trudy) on the current milking rotation. Each animal is only milked for a few months at a time to help keep them healthy. This is based on their natural limits: goats and kids feed from their mothers for less than a year before moving on to solid foods.

Goats are much easier to work with than sheep. We lead them out of their pen one at a time to the milking station, a homemade platform with a guillotine style head-lock that keeps them in place (and the bucket for tasty corn/alfalfa feed doesn't hurt). The goats all know the routine and take their turns running out of the pen, up the platform and just put their heads into the gizmo, anticipating the extra food they'll be given. Each of the goats has a discernable personality, but they all tolerate the milking; our hands are nothing compared to the kids' biting. They don't kick and don't fuss unless a dog is around. Their utters are really big and almost conical in shape, making it really easy to get a grip and squeeze out the milk. It didn't take us long to become comfortable working with the goats. And they're great producers; we are getting almost a gallon a day from just these three goats. The only difficulty in milking the goats is dealing with a few feisty non-milkers who often manage to butt their way through the gate as we usher a milker in or out.

While sheep are more easily led than goats, they're not as smart. You can't just open the gate and let them find their way. Dolores is so clueless that we actually walk her on a leash. They are, in general, a little more difficult to milk. Their utters are much smaller, more round and squat against their flanks, and they kick more on the stand. Learning a decent grip by which to milk them took us each at least a few weeks, but we are now happy to report we are both experts at sheep milking.

So what's the difference between goat and sheep milk? Goat milk is the closest thing to human milk in it's chemical structure. Lactose intolerant adult humans (like K) almost always can drink goat milk without a problem. Goat milk is also used more often in the US to make cheese and yogurt, but sheep milk is more traditional in herding cultures (sheep milk products are still common in Turkey, for example, and true feta can only come from a ewe). Sheep milk has a much higher fat content than goat milk, and as a result, tastes “sweeter.” Some people find goat milk to taste, well, “goaty.” The milk flavor is the same taste present in chevre cheese, more sour than the sheep milk, but we've learned that the goat milk really only tastes goaty if there is a male goat within a few miles of the milkers. Females produce some hormone in reaction to male pheromones and it's this hormone that produces that goaty flavor. There are not any male goats on our farm, and no neighbor within a few miles keeps goats, so we don't have to worry about that kind of contamination.

We are currently in the process of learning how to make cheese and yogurt! We'll do a post on that as soon as we manage to get that skill under our belts.

Liliko'i, Liliko'i, Liliko'i

When we came to Big Island we didn't expect to spend so much of our time dominated by one fruit. We've mentioned liliko'i (Hawaiian for passionfruit) here on the blog, among other tropical fruits. We knew the flavor to be popular in local cuisine (liliko'i cheesecake, liliko'i cocktails, and soda pop are common). There was a vine on our previous farm that dropped fruit now and then, which we ate and enjoyed, and we saw the plant growing elsewhere in Kona. So we thought we knew liliko'i.

We were wrong.

Crash course: liliko'i is a vining plant that works its way up trees. It produces firm, egg-shaped fruit that turn from green to bright orange, yellow, red, or purple as they mature. They fall to the ground when ripe, the husk being thick enough to absorb the impact. You bite them open and suck out the insides, seeds and all. Imagine a tiny, tree-hung melon. If you eat them fresh they are sour in a pleasant way, but some locals don't consider them truly ripe until they've begun to shrivel like prunes. They say it taste sweet, but we think that's a myth, though. Shriveled ones are no more sweet or sour than the fruit-to-fruit variation you find in "fresh" ones.

We knew that before coming here. What we didn't understand was how staggeringly productive liliko'i vines can be in season. The mangoes that litter Middle Ke'ei Road have nothing on the sheer volume that we cope with on our new farm. There's about 50 vines here! In greatest abundance are the red and yellow liliko'i, roughly the same size and with the same deliciously tart flavor. We also have smaller, dark purple ones that are much sweeter. They taste almost like a berry. Giant liliko'i are more mellow in flavor, and the rinds are actually edible, much like a melon, though we don't care for them as we both find them a bit mealy. The smallest variety, marble liliko'i, are just a nuisance. They're almost impossible to crack open, and with so little juice in such a small fruit, it's not worth the effort. They are, however, dangerous underfoot on the slopes of the farm.

Harvesting liliko'i has become a daily chore. On average, we fill at least one five gallon bucket with fruit everyday. If that doesn't sound like much, imagine how quickly it adds up. Imagine, too, the time that it takes to crack open each one and scoop the guts out – a task we are currently doing at least twice a week – and then juicing on top of that. We're talking several hours, the better part of an afternoon.

(To add to the fun, please also consider the fact that the vines here are growing through macadamia nut trees. Mac nuts are small, hard and almost perfectly round - which on steep slopes make for as sure footing as ball bearings. We're not complaining (we did come here to work, after all) but we remain impressed.)

So why, you ask, are we juicing the fruit?

It's a sad but true fact that small famers have a hard time supporting themselves directly selling their raw goods these days. Some can still make ends meet through sourcing to farmer's markets or local grocery stores, and others apply for agricultural grants or take outside jobs. But an increasingly popular way to help increase revenue for the small farmer is to offer value added products directly to consumers – be it mixed salad greens, jam, or blueberry muffins. Liliko'i juice is an essential ingredient to the aforementioned cocktails and cheesecake.

The economics of VAPs are something we're still getting our heads around, and liliko'i juice is a good example. The local health food store sells organic fruit for $1.50/lb. The farm sells the juice to a local restaurant for $45 a gallon.

The empty husks make good goat chow, too.

More Chickens!

Although we've moved farms, caring for chickens remains one of our daily responsibilities. The new farm has, however, broadened our understanding of what chickens are like and what is an appropriate (i.e. sustainable and humane) method of tending them.

There were about 25-30 chickens on our first farm, all layers, all the same breed (Rhode Island Reds, we think). While we liked working with those birds, we find the new setup more interesting, simply because it's more varied.

We are now working with over 50 chickens of several breeds. There are meat chickens (that still produce edible eggs!) ranging freely in, or nearby, a very large pen. These birds will be harvested right here on the farm when their time comes. Six different varieties of laying hens (plus respective roosters) range freely in tractors. We're not exactly sure what each breed is, but we know we have the Rhode Island Reds, Polish Top Hats (they have silver feet!), and Barred Rocks. We also have some kind of golden-feathered chickens that lay a blue egg and some beautiful, productive, shiny jet-black layers, Jersey Giants, with a nasty rooster we like to call Boss Hogg.

The tractors here are more simply built than the ones on our previous farm. They weigh less despite being larger, but not are as easy to move since they lack wheels. There's 3-5 hens plus a rooster in each. They seem happier than the girls on the previous farm, which may be due to breed temperament or the lower population density. Or perhaps it's the presence of cock keeping order.

The assumption is that the eggs we collect are fertilized. Some people may find that gross, others find it desirable enough to constitute a marketing niche. S&K, the farmers, also keep the roosters because it allows them to breed their own stock. To do so, they simply (but strategically) let hens incubate a certain number of eggs. Because we collect eggs every day, and eat them shortly thereafter, we assume that we've eaten fertilized eggs, but we honestly can't tell the difference.

All the chickens, both layers and meat hens, are given feed and corn scratch twice a day. The meat hens also get our green kitchen scraps. We've saved our choice scraps – mango and banana peels – for the layers, but none of them seem too interested. They haven't been trained, like the chickens at our last farm, to expect these delicious handouts. They don't seem all that interested in slugs, either. To provide extra calcium to ensure strong eggs, we spike all the waters with whey leftover from the cheese making, as opposed to mixing oyster shells in with the feed as is commonly done. Whey also contains protein which will help the meat chicks grow larger faster. This type of waste recycling is an example of the permaculture “closed loop” philosophy that is practiced on this farm.

Since the meat hens are not allowed to breed with roosters they are not a self-renewing resource. As such, we are also caring for about 30 chicks right now. As mentioned in a previous post, these are not cute like Easter. They were, however, when they first arrived in the mail. They are several weeks old now – which in chicken time is the middle of awkward adolescence. Too old to be babies and too young to be on their own, some live in a chicken tractor and some in rabbit pens. All chicks get water and a special feed twice a day. When they are older (i.e., larger enough not to slip through the fence), we'll move them to the ranging pens.

Working with several different types and breeds of chickens and caring for them in different ways, we've learned that chickens are really stupid and rather messy. They're super easy to care for, so the mess isn't a big deal if you stay on it, but it's clear that a poorly cared-for chicken has got to be one of the most disgusting and depressing creatures in domestication. The absolutely squalid and horrid conditions of commercial chicken production is one of the things that made us interested in this type of farming in the first place.

And you know what? Contrary to myth, hens are not loud at all. The roosters are, sure, but citing noise as an argument to against keeping urban chickens demonstrates ignorance and inexperience. Tending chickens is a easy and rewarding. Way more so than pitbulls.

New Farm

We have moved to a different farm. It's not far from our original hosts here on Big Island but it has a slightly different climate since it's further up the mountain. While we learned a lot at the first farm and enjoyed our time there, we wanted to broaden our knowledge and experience base. We're not going to be here forever, so we're want to make the most of our time here. Our focus at the first farm was maintaining coffee and tropical fruit trees. Now we will be working at two different sites, a “homestead,” (7 acres) primarily devoted to tending animals and a secondary site (11 acres) still under development, which we will help establish as an agricultural site.

While we've been to the second site, we haven't started working there yet. We have, however, begun learning our regular routine on the homestead, which is orientated around the daily needs of the ducks, chickens, rabbits, goats, and sheep living on the farm.

Our routine breaks down into a three part working day:

MORNING
Feed and water the chickens and ducks. There about about 50 chickens, some for laying, some for meat. The chickens raised for meat, male and female alike, range in a pen while the laying hens range in tractors similar to the ones on the previous farm, though these don't have wheels. There are about 20 ducks that go wherever they want, and their wont is to follow us (i.e. the food bucket) around. After the chickens and ducks are tended, we head over to another section of the farm that is home to goats, sheep, rabbits and fledgling chicks.

It's illegal to keep rabbits on the ground in HI (look what happened in Australia), so the 10 or so bunnies here are kept in elevated pens. The rabbits are raised not for their delicious meat or soft fur, but for the nutrient-rich droppings they produce, which are very easy to collect as it falls through the grated floor of the pens. Near the rabbits are 4 pens of meat chickens too small to be included in the ranging pen. These are not the cute, fuzzy “baby” chicks you may remember from your 4th grade science class: they are aggressive, dirty, biting and shitting machines. They're fast, too: everyone here calls them the velociraptors, and they can bite and shit on the hands that feed them with surprising rapidity. Their beaks and claws are sharp and we look forward to the day when they are large enough to join their brethren (henthren?) in the ranging pen.

After we care for the rabbits and chicks, we move onto the most challenging part of the animal routine, caring for the goats and sheep. There are about 20 goats and half a dozen sheep ranging in separate pens. Both animals produce milk but are also utilized for their natural groundskeeping abilities. Sheep graze (heads-down) on grass while goats “browse” (heads-up) the non-native trees selected for removal. Both the goats and sheep are fed hay pellets with mineral supplements and are given fresh water. Feeding them can be challenging, as they all charge you once they see your food bucket, but the milking routine has an even steeper learning curve. Only 3 goats and 2 sheep are currently producing milk; the rotation in the herds helps to keep them healthy. (We'll hash out the exciting milking details in a future post.)

AFTERNOON
After a lunch break, we do an afternoon project, the work of which depends on what needs done. As we are still getting used to the homestead done anything major yet, but we hope to have some interesting work soon.

EVENING
We do another round of evening chores to care for the animals. The routine is almost identical to the morning work, with minor variation. We collect chicken eggs and rabbits are fed fresh greens, rather than pellets. Right now, we are only milking sheep in the evening, but this is due to a farm decision about production and animal training, not any major difference between the species.

It sounds like more work than it actually is. With the help of our onsite hosts we can get the morning and evening routines done in about an hour and a half each. The real work to come will be in the daily projects that will fill up the middle of the day. We'll post about those as soon as they're under way.

Family Visit for an Important Birthday

Grandpa turned 90 on July 30, so we took a vacation to Oahu to visit him. Other family members came into town from the mainland, and we all celebrated Grandpa's birthday with a weekend-long extravaganza of family and food. We had a great time and are looking forward to visiting with him again soon.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa!

La toilette

We live in a shack. It's solidly built, 10 x 20 max, but it keeps the rain off. We are comfortable enough, with loft storage space and a propane stove for cooking. Cold water comes in on tap and drains into the irrigation system but that's it for plumbing. So how, you ask, do we perform the other very basic functions of life?

For human waste there is an outhouse less than 20 yards from our door. It is a basic latrine model but is a far cry both from the fly-traps common at campsites and the industrial porta-potties of death known to haunt fairgrounds. Yes, it is made of wood and is open to the air but similarities end there. Instead of a nasty hole, the wood frame platform is built over a garbage can to catch solid waste. Liquid waste is diverted through a special drain (called, descriptively enough, a “urine diverter”) and the whole she-bang is outfitted with a “normal” toilet seat just like they have in Paris, France!

Once we've completed our seated business we cover the mess with a layer of carbon-rich organic material (coffee parchment) that helps compost the waste. This not only protects us from hookworm (and bad smells) but will eventually produce a safe, all natural fertilizer known as “humanure.” (There's contention about exactly how long you have to wait for it to be safe, so it's not used on any of the food here.) The diverter is structured in a way that allows the liquid waste to run-off directly into farm land (urine is a great source of nitrogen) without interfering with solid waste landing into the garbage can.

To keep clean, we employ a solar shower, which is structurally reminiscent of “Gilligan's Island.” There is a cold water hose with a sprinkler nossel tacked-up about 6” off the floor inside. Outside the shower structure is a simple pulley system that allow a big heavy bag of water (the “solar shower bag”) to be hoisted up to head level. The solar shower bag is just a big black bag made of heavy plastic with an opening at the top to pour water into and a tube and sprinkler head at the bottom. Put water into the bag and seal it up, set it out in the sun for a few hours, hoist the bag onto the pulley, and let gravity do the rest. Viola! Hot shower with energy from the sun.

At least that's the idea. Despite being in the tropics, it's quite cloudy here and sunshine is often in short supply. K has experience with the exact same technology at an eco-village in Missouri and found that it worked much better there. In the Midwest, summertime means sunshine but in South Kona it means rain. To make up the heat deficit, we've resorted to using a tea kettle.

It Didn't Seem So Funny at the Time

Being in the tropics, our host farm is home to many of the creepier and crawlier members of the animal kingdom. Despite being both mature and brave, one of us is more reactive to their unique charms than the other. Presented here for purposes of edification are three reenactments illustrating this phenomenon.

1. Encountering a Heteropoda venatoria in the Toiletries.

2. The Moth Pictured Below has a nearly 6” Wingspan; the One in Her Hair is Not Nearly So Big.

3. Inside the Work Shed, a Cane Spider Alights Upon Her Arm.

Manini Beach

Big Island is geologically young; the lava is not yet pulverized by the ocean into sand or eroded by the weather (and decomposing organisms!) into dirt. Most of this island is still covered in these lava rocks, including the shoreline.

Contrary to the popular belief, Hawai'i is not all pristine sandy beaches. Many beaches on Big Island are made of these black lava rock and have no sand at all. The closest beach to us is about 3 miles down the mountain and is one of these rocky beaches. Manini (“Skinny”) Beach isn't really a good place to swim, but it's lovely picnic area with ornamental dragon fruit growing over a short path to a great rocky view of the ocean. The snorkeling is supposed to decent but is safe only for the advanced, so we haven't tried it. Across the beach is Kealakekua Bay, a great kayak launch.

Happiest Mac Nut Ever

Compost Tea

Compost tea, very simply, is a cold brew water extract of compost. While most people understand that it is microorganisms that breakdown organic material into nutrient heavy compost, many don't understand that the microorganisms continue to be productive and valuable. By steeping compost in properly aerated and dechlorinated water, you can transfer beneficial microorganisms from compost into soil and onto plants. It is a cheap, highly effective way of establishing and reinforcing a healthy food web in soil and on plants that poses none of the risks associated with synthetic chemical fertilizers.

The most essential ingredient in compost tea is, naturally enough, good compost. You can refer to our previous post to learn the basics of compost. Making your own is advisable but it can be purchased as well from a reliable source to ensure that it is both pathogen free and contains the necessary soil food web biology: beneficial bacteria, fungi, nematodes, protozoa, and microarthopods.

The next necessary ingredient is clean water. Water from a septic tank or public utility is fine so long as time is allowed for it to dechlorinate. Chlorine kills the microorganisms that we are trying to cultivate, but thankfully it is unstable in water and will evaporate if left out in the open for 24 hours or so. Chlorine filters for taps and hoses are also commercially available. Since we steep our tea outside we make sure its covered to protect it from the sun's heat an UV rays that kill microorganisms. Application before noon helps avoid this as well.

How long the compost needs to steep depends on various factors (multiple recipes for multiple results are available in books and elsewhere on line), but the process always needs to be thoroughly aerated. There are custom-made tea brewers on the market, but an aquarium pump in a five gallon bucket works fine. Some people opt for a “loose tea” approach and put the compost directly in the water but we put it in “tea bags” made out of nylon stockings. This helps filter out particulate matter that might otherwise clog up the sprayer that we use for foliar application.

A few things happen when you spray of compost tea directly onto the leaves. The water acts as a “carrier” for the microorganisms in the tea and are delivered to leaf surfaces where the beneficial organisms consume the surface exudates, leaving no food for disease-causing organisms. The water also allows organisms to be absorbed through the phyllosphere and through the stomata (tiny mouths on the underside of the leaf through which the plant respirates), translocating through the vascular system of the plant.

Compost tea can also be applied directly to the soil as a “drench.” From what we've read, some growers believe that soil applicant has more benefits and recommend using compost tea as a foliar feeding only when absolutely necessary – when a crop seems to be displaying symptoms of a disease, infestation or malnutrition of some kind. Foliar feeding also seems to greatly benefit young plants during critical periods of their development. Since we are on a farm with lots of young trees (mostly coffee), we spray tea directly on to the leaves once a week as a part of the ecological management strategy. We drench the soil of the older trees (mostly macadamia), whose leaves are largely too high to reach anyway, taking care not to spray the bark. The microbes will start feeding on it. You want them as partners, not parasites.

Trees prefer their nitrogen in ammonium form as opposed to nitrate so we brew a tea heavy in fungi to encourage ammonium production in the soil food web. To encourage fungi we supplement with guano, kelp, and select minerals during the brewing process.

Compost tea made from good compost expeditiously improves the life in the soil and on plant surfaces. The introduction of these organisms into your garden/farm helps achieve higher microbial biomass, better plant production, better soil structure, better nutrient cycling and less disease. Decomposition of plant materials improves. There's no dangerous chemicals to leech into the groundwater but if there were they would be reduced because of improved water retention in the soil. You can't over apply it; excess microorganisms will simply die off.

Not only safer for the soil and plants, it's more healthy for us, too. Sometimes the fishy smell makes us think masks might not be a bad idea but it's totally safe to breath---unlike the stuff C's brother P sprayed working for a certain chemical spraying company. Jumpsuits might be cool, too. The backpacks make us feel like Ghostbusters.

Good Compost

Before coming here, C and K each independently experimented with indoor compost bins in separate apartments. These were ventilated plastic tubs that housed colonies of red worms that ate kitchen scraps. Even though both ate similar vegetarian diets and got their worms from the same source they ended up with quite different results. C's bin slowly accumulated a dark, moist but not wet, odorless substance that bore close resemblance to healthy soil. K's bin, tended with roommate A, filled with a soggy, foul-smelling, black muck that attracted flies like a sewer. Even a pair of naifs like K and A could tell that this wasn't good stuff, so they gave it to their local compost expert who made her best efforts to remediate it.

This bad news is actually good news because it means that as far as decomposed organic matter is concerned, it is easy to tell fair from foul. Bad “compost” isn't really compost at all. The decomposition of organic matter isn't rocket science, but it is a process with several specific stages that is something of an art to manage.

The practice of using compost to enrich soil is at least as old as ancient Rome. Since the Romans didn't have microscopes we assume that they didn't have a clue about what makes compost good stuff. We suspect that most people still don't---we sure didn't before coming here.

It is true, as you have heard, that good compost is chock full of nutrients beneficial to plant health. It is also true that these nutrients originate in pre-compost organic matter that is changed into a different form through the process of decomposition. What many people seem to misunderstand is how this decomposition is carried out: our “worm bins” had a lot more living in them than just worms.

Please see our previous post on the soil food web (link) and ponder how many of these critters you can actually see with your naked eye. These invisible guys are essential to the process of decomposition, and, like the stuff they produce, are not created equal. The only difference between C's bin and that of K and A was the bore of the drill bit used to aerate the bins. The air holes in C's were large enough, whereas K's were too small. Not enough air got in K's bin and the wrong kind of microorganisms bred. They were plenty busy with the organic material, but the anaerobic nature of the process contributed to growth of “bad guys,” the kind that produce disease and alcohol.

While indoor worm bins (“vermicomposting”) are growing in popularity most people make compost in an outdoor pile like is done here on the farm, so we'll continue our discussion of making good compost with that process in mind.

First you start with organic matter. Most things from plants are good: leaves, grass clippings, etc. Kitchen scraps are fine, but no meats, oils, fats, or products treated with preservatives. Animal manure, while fecund, is probably too risky. Cattle manure in particular used to be a must-have compost ingredient but industrial agricultural practices have led to the spread of e. coli, which gestates in the digestive tract and can leave traces in droppings, not too mention drugs and hormones. Don't use it unless you know the animal and its diet as if it were your own.

Proportion is important. Organic matter can roughly be divided into “green” and “brown” types. Green matter is composed of simple sugars that bacteria love whereas brown matter has more complex carbohydrates that are better food for fungi. Green turns into nitrogen while brown becomes carbon. The ideal C:N ratio depends on what you want to grow.

Next, add time, moisture, heat, and air. Nature will do most of this for you, though she may need a little artful assistance to make the process go smoothly. We've already explained the need for air. Since we're no longer talking about enclosed tubs (though some people do keep those outdoors) you just need to turn the pile over once in a while.

Turning the pile also makes sure that the heat is evenly distributed. The temperature will vary at different stages of the process (there are three, each dominated by a different type of microbe) but shouldn't go over 150F---that will kill the good life. How's it get so hot? Even though we're talking outdoors here, it's not the sun. Heat is a byproduct of the process of decomposition itself: trillions upon trillions of microbes getting sweaty.

The pile should be neither really wet or dry. If you live in a dry area you may need to add water, if you live in an area with lots of rain you may need to put a tarp on top. Just a little bit of moisture is all you need.

Allow for enough time under the right conditions and you should end up with good compost.

Or, if you're lazy, you could just buy the stuff. If you do, get a list of ingredients and make sure they're organic. You don't want any remnants of synthetic chemicals that will endanger the soil food web.

The Amy B.H. Greenwell Ethnobotanical Garden

Across the street from the Manago Hotel and just north of the baseball diamond is the Amy Greenwell Ethnobotanical Garden. This 15 acre garden is dedicated to preserving native plants and their historical usage within traditional Hawai'ian society. The idea of a truly native Hawai'ian plant is complicated, as many species were intentionally introduced by human settlers.

The garden collection differentiates between endemic (only found in Hawai'i), indigenous (found native in Hawai'i and elsewhere in the Pacific) and Polynesian introductions. The mission of the garden stipulated by it's original benefactor, Amy Greenwell, was to restore the land to a state similar to that found prior to Captain Cook's arrival in 1779 and the introduction of the islands to the “Western” world.

It's $5 for general entry or $10 for a guided tour. It's beautiful and we recommend that you visit, but just pay the 5 bucks and borrow a the loaner copy of the guidebook from the office and read about whatever plants tickle your fancy bone.

We recognized most of the trees and plants from our farm and elsewhere in our wanderings around the island, though it was nice to learn the proper names of many of them. The Big Island is also home to many species that are endangered on the mainland: