What a difference 6 years makes

In the mean time we have moved to California and lived there for 5 years. We visited the Big Island twice since then and have now relocated to the Dominican Republic to serve in the Peace Corps.

 I am sharing this information because people apparently still read this blog according to the page count. If you are interested in following our latest adventure, read Kevin's blog or listen to Cat's podcast.

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.