PIGS AND POULTRY--LUCK AND ILL LUCK.
Very early after taking possession, I invested twelve dollars in the
purchase of seven pigs of the ordinary country breed. They were wanted
to eat the many odds and ends which are yielded by ten acres, a good
garden, and the kitchen. I did not look for much money profit from them,
but I knew they were great as architects in building up a manure heap.
Yet they were capital things with which to pack a meat-tub at Christmas,
saving money from the butcher, as well as much running abroad to market.
They shared with the cow in the abundant trimmings and surplus from the
garden, eating many things which she rejected, and appropriating all the
slop from the kitchen. In addition to this, we fed them twice a day with
boiled bran, sometimes with a handful of corn meal, but never upon whole
corn. This cooking of the food was no great trouble in the kitchen, but
its effect on the pigs was most beneficial. They grew finely, except one
which died after four months’ feeding, but from what cause could not be
ascertained.
The consequence was, that when October came round, the six remaining
ones were estimated by Dick to average at least one hundred and fifty
pounds each, and were in prime condition for fattening. In the early
part of that month their supply of cooked mush was increased. I am of
opinion that farmers leave the fattening of their hogs too late, and
that a month on corn, before December, is worth three months after it.
By the tenth of December they were ready for the butcher, and on being
killed, were found to average two hundred and twenty-four pounds, or
nine hundred and forty-four in all. This being three times as much as we
needed for home use, the remainder was sent to the store, where it
netted me forty-nine dollars.
I am quite certain there was a profit on these pigs. They consumed
quantities of refuse tomatoes, and devoured parsnips with the greatest
eagerness. One day I directed Dick to cut up some stalks of our green
sweet corn, by means of the fodder-cutter, which delivers them in pieces
half an inch long, and mix them with bran for the pigs. I found they
consumed it with great avidity. Ever after that they were served twice
daily with the same mess. It seemed to take the place of stronger food,
as well as of grass, and was an acceptable variety. In this way the
money cost of food was kept at a low figure, and the labor we spent on
the pigs showed itself in the fine yield of prime pork, which brought
the highest price in the market. The yield of rich manure was also very
satisfactory, all which, at intervals through the season, was removed
from the pen and put under cover, for manure thus housed from the sun
and rain is worth about double that which is exposed all the year round.
This was another item of profit: if the pigs had not manufactured it,
money would have been required to pay for its equivalent.
After these six had been killed, I purchased seven others, some two
months old, having abundance of roots, offal cabbages, and a stack of
the sweet-corn fodder on hand. These seven cost the same as the others,
twelve dollars. As Dick was found to be a good, trustworthy fellow, he
was to be kept all the year round; and as he would be hanging about the
barnyard during the winter, when the ground was wet and sloppy, looking
after the horse and cow, the pigs would help to fill up his time. The
cooking of food for both cow and pigs was a great novelty to him. At
first he could not be made to believe in it. When I ventured to
insinuate to him that it would be any thing but agreeable to him to eat
his dinners raw, the force of the idea did not strike him. So much is
there in the power of long-established habit. Yet he did condescend to
admit that he knew all pigs throve better on plenty of common
kitchen-swill than on almost any thing else. I told him there was but
one reason for this, and that was because all such swill had been
cooked. When the improvement made by the first lot of pigs became too
manifest for even him to dispute, he, together with the pigs,
acknowledged the corn and gave in.
When out-door operations for the season were over, Dick undertook the
whole business of cooking for the pigs and cow himself. In fact, on one
occasion I succeeded in getting him to curry down both cow and pigs.
They all looked and showed so much better for near a week thereafter,
that coming on him unexpectedly one day, I found him repeating the
operation of his own motion, and so he voluntarily continued the
practice during the whole winter. The pigs seemed delighted with the
process, and had very little scratching of their own to do. Their backs
and sides were kept continually smooth, while their whole appearance was
changed for the better. As to the cow, she took to being curried with
the best possible grace, and improved under it as much as the pigs; but
whether it increased the flow of milk I cannot say, as no means were
taken to solve that question. But as Dick’s devotion to the currycomb
excited my admiration, so there was abundant evidence that both pigs and
cow were equally captivated.
This business of raising and carefully attending to only half a dozen
hogs, is worthy of every small farmer’s serious study and attention. The
hog and his food, with what is cheapest and best for him, is really one
of the sciences, not an exact one, it is true, but still a science. One
must look at and study many things, and they can all be made to pay. The
propensity to acquire fat in many animals seems to have been implanted
by nature. The hog fattens most rapidly in such a condition of the
atmosphere as is most congenial to his comfort--not too hot, nor too
cold. Hence the months of September, October, and November are the best
for making pork. The more agreeable the weather, the less is the amount
of food required to supply the waste of life. It has been found by some
persons that a clover-field is the best and cheapest place to keep hogs
in during the spring and summer months, where they have a plenty of
water, the slop from the house, and the sour milk from the dairy. All
sour feed contains more nitrogen than when fed in a sweet state. The
first green herbage of the spring works off the impurities of the blood,
cleanses the system, renovates the constitution, and enables the animal
to accumulate a store of strength to carry it forward to its destined
course.
Many object to beginning the fattening process so early in the season,
as the corn relied on for that purpose is not then fully matured. But,
taking all things into consideration, it is perhaps better to feed corn
before it is ripe, as in that state it possesses more sweetness. Most
varieties are in milk in September, when the hogs will chew it, swallow
the juice, and eject the dry, fibrous matter. During the growing season
of the year, swine can be fed on articles not readily marketable, as
imperfect fruit, vegetables, &c. When such articles are used, cooking
them is always economical. Most vegetables, when boiled or steamed, and
mixed with only an eighth of their bulk of mill-feed or meal, whey, and
milk left to sour, will fatten hogs fast. In this state they will eat it
with avidity, and derive more benefit from it than when fed in an
unfermented state. Articles of a perishable nature should be used first,
to prevent waste, as it is desirable to turn all the products of the
farm to the best account. Another quite important advantage of early
feeding is the less trouble in cooking the food. Convenience of feeding
is promoted, as there is no cost nor trouble to guard against freezing.
The more you can mix the food, the better, as they will thrive faster on
mixed food than when fed separately. In feeding, no more should be given
at a time than is eaten up clean, and the feeding should be regular as
to time. It is of the greatest importance to get the best varieties,
those that are well formed, and have an aptitude for taking on fat
readily, and consume the least food. As to which is the best kind, there
seems to be a great diversity of opinion, some preferring one kind and
some another. The Suffolks come to maturity earliest, and probably are
the most profitable to kill at from seven to ten months; but others
prefer the Berkshires. The pork of both is excellent: they will usually
weigh from 250 to 300 pounds at the age of eight or ten months. The
better way is to have the pigs dropped about the first of April, and
feed well until December, and then butcher.
From a variety of experiments, I am satisfied it is wrong to let a hog
remain poor twelve months of his life, when he could be made as large in
nine months as he generally is in fifteen; and I conceive it a great
error to feed corn to hogs without grinding. It has been proved by the
Shakers, after thirty years’ trial, that ground corn is one-third better
for hogs and cattle-feed than if unground. In the case of another
feeder, he ascertained the ratio of gain to be even greater than that of
the Shakers. Others assert that cooking corn-meal nearly doubles its
value. A distinguished agriculturist in Ohio proved that nineteen pounds
of cooked meal were equal in value to fifty pounds raw. If pigs are well
kept for three months after being dropped, they cannot be stunted after
that, even if the supply of food is less than it should be.
It is desirable that hogs should be provided with a dry floor for eating
and sleeping only, and the whole pen completely sheltered, to prevent
any washing or waste of the manure. The commonwealth of the piggery
should be furnished with plenty of straw, potato-vines, leaves, sawdust,
and the like, with an occasional load of muck, and almost any quantity
of weeds, all of which will be converted into the most efficient
supports of vegetable life. Hogs are the best composters known, as they
delight in upturning any such article as the farmer wishes to convert
into manure for the coming year.
There can be no question as to its paying to make pork, though men
differ on this as widely as their pork differs when brought to market.
The poorer the pork, the more the owner complains of his profits, or
rather of his losses; and the better the pork, the more is the owner
satisfied. There can be no profit in raising a poor breed of hogs, that
have no fattening qualities; nor even a good breed, without conveniences
or proper care. A good hog cannot be fatted to any profit in mud or
filth, nor where he suffers from cold. His comfort should be consulted
as much as that of any other animal. It is a great error to assume that
he is naturally fond of living among filth. On the contrary, hogs are
remarkably neat, and those which fatten the best always keep themselves
the cleanest. One farmer assured me that he had made his corn bring
$1.25 per bushel by passing it through the bowels of his hogs, besides
having the manure clear. Another did much better by cooking his meal.
As no farm is pronounced complete without poultry, and as both my wife
and daughters were especially fond of looking after chickens,--at least
they thought they would be,--so, to make their new home attractive, I
invested $7 in the purchase of a cock and ten hens. They were warranted
to be powerful layers, and would hatch fifteen eggs apiece. It struck me
that this sounded very large, but on my wife observing it would be only
a hundred and fifty chickens the first season, I gave in without a word.
The fact is that chickens were not my hobby. I did not think they would
pay, even after hearing my wife dilate on the luxury it would be to have
fresh eggs every morning for breakfast, for pies and puddings, and
various other things which she enumerated, and, as she expressed it,
“eggs of our own laying.”
I could not see how this circle of wonders was to be accomplished by
only ten hens, and insinuated that it would be a good thing if she could
make a bargain with each of her hens to lay two eggs a day. In reply to
this, she astonished me by saying that Americans did not know how to
make the most of things, but that the French did. She said that a
certain Frenchman, mentioning his name--he was either a marquis or
count, of course--had recently discovered the art of making hens lay
every day by feeding them on horse-flesh, and that he feeds out
twenty-five horses a day, which he obtains among the used-up hacks of
Paris. She said he had a hennery which furnishes forty thousand dozens
of eggs a week, and that it yields the proprietor a clear profit of
five thousand dollars every seven days. After hearing this I felt
certain she had been reading some modern poultry-book. But as she did
not speak of requiring me to furnish horse-flesh for her pets, nor
contemplate the establishment of a fresh-laid egg company, but only
suggested the consumption of a little raw meat now and then, I
volunteered no objections. Her enthusiasm was such as to make it unsafe
to do so. Why should not she and the children be gratified?
The hens came home, and were put into a cage in the barnyard, to
familiarize them with their new home. But they did not lay so freely as
she had expected, while some did not lay at all. Worse than that, as
soon as let out of their cage, they got over the fence into the garden,
where they scratched as violently as if each one had a brood of fifteen
to scratch for. They made terrible havoc among the young flowers and
vegetables, and tore up the beds which had been so nicely raked. One of
the girls was employed half her time in driving them out. I thought it
too great an expense to raise the barnyard fence high enough to keep
them in, and so they were marched back into the cage. It happened to be
too small for so many fowls, which my wife did not suspect, until one
day, putting her hand in to draw forth a sick hen, she discovered her
whole arm and sleeve to be swarming with lice. Here was something she
did not remember to have been treated of in her poultry-book. But the
nuisance was so great, as well as so active, soon extending itself all
over her person, as to compel her to strip and change her entire dress,
and to plunge the lousy one in a tub of water.
I confess the difficulty was a new one to me. My experience in poultry
had been limited. My knowledge of them was exclusively anatomical,
obtained by frequent dissections with the carving-knife. On calling
Dick, however, it appeared that he knew more about this trouble than the
whole family together. When my wife described her condition to him, and
how she had swarmed with the vermin, the fellow laughed outright, but
said they wouldn’t hurt--he knew all about them, for he had been full of
lice more than once! He said he expected this, as the fowls had been
kept up too close: they would neither lay, thrive, nor keep clear of
vermin, unless allowed to run about.
But he took the case in hand, clipped their wings, saturated their heads
with lamp oil, provided abundance of ashes for them to roll in, and then
turned them loose in the barnyard. He then obtained poles of sassafras
wood for them to roost on, as he said the peculiar odor of that tree
would drive the enemy away. I presume his prescriptions answered the
purpose; at all events, we discovered no more hen-lice, because the
whole family were careful never to touch a fowl again.
I think this little catastrophe took all the romance out of my wife
touching chickens. I rarely heard her mention eggs afterwards, except
when some of us were going to the store for other things, and she was
careful never to purchase chickens with the feathers on. She never
referred to the hundred and fifty she was to hatch out that season; nor
have I ever heard her even mention horse-flesh as a sure thing for
making hens lay all the year round. That winter Dick fattened and killed
the whole lot. My wife did not seem to have much stomach for them when
they came upon the table. I was not sorry for it, except that she had
been disappointed. Her knowledge of keeping poultry had been purely
theoretical, and her first disappointment had completely weaned her of
her fondness for the art.
But this brief and unlucky experience of ours should by no means operate
to discourage others. Money is undoubtedly made by skilful men at
raising poultry. It cannot be a losing business, or so many thousand
tons would not be annually produced. Volumes have been written on the
subject, which all who contemplate embarking in the business may consult
with profit. As an incident of farm life it will always be interesting,
and with those who understand the art it ought to be profitable.
Foreigners must be more experienced in the business of raising poultry
than Americans, judging by the vast quantities they annually produce for
market. The quantity imported into England is so enormous, that it is
impossible to determine its amount. Into only two of the principal
London markets there is annually brought from France and Belgium,
75,000,000 eggs, 2,000,000 fowls, 400,000 pigeons, 200,000 geese and
turkeys, and 300,000 ducks. In addition to these, the large amount sent
to poulterers and private houses must be considered. The Brighton
railroad alone carries yearly 2,600 tons of eggs which come from France
and Belgium. Yet, with all these immense supplies, the London markets
are frequently very meagrely supplied with butter and eggs. The trade is
shown by these figures to be one of great national value. Americans have
strangely neglected its cultivation with the method and precision of
foreigners. We can raise food more cheaply than they, while none of them
can boast of possessing our incomparable Indian corn.
There are several of my neighbors who are highly skilled in the art of
raising poultry. One of them is quite a poultry-fancier, and, by keeping
only choice breeds, he realizes fancy prices for them. Another confines
his fowls in a plum-orchard, and thus secures an annual crop of plums
without being stung by the curculio. In general, the female portion of
the family attend to this branch of domestic business, and realize a
snug sum from it annually. A brood of young chickens turned into a
garden, the hen confined in her coop, will soon clear it of destructive
insects.