THE LEGEND OF BUNKER BILL.
During my first year at Bugtussle, we raised turkeys.In lieu of the heritage breed turkeys like your Bourbon Red's or Narragansett's, we opted to raise the conventional, broad-breasted turkeys...but to raise them unconventionally. They lived their entire lives outside, protected from predation by solar-electrified fencing, with constant visits from your's truly. I loved those turkeys. I loved Tomahawk, and I loved Iceberg. I loved Galliopo, Bunker Bill, Chaos, Gunnison, Gravner, and Beardo. I named them, too, because I was a fool in love. Then November came, and we had to process them. Here's an excerpt from my original blog on the subject:"As Michael Pollan has pointed out, "process" is a kind term for killing, cleaning and packaging, but that's what it is: killing. The night before, we loaded them all in the truck, and as the truck pulled away with all of my buddies staring at me, my heart sank, and the next day we killed them. I helped. I can't be more honest when I say it was the hardest day of my life, and I still haven't reconciled it completely. Killing is not easy, and truthfully, I'm glad it's not easy. I'm glad it was hard on me. It shouldn't be easy." I went to New York for Thanksgiving and took Tomahawk with me for the meal. I brined him for two days, then smoked him for 13 hours, and nothing that's ever been killed has ever been done quite as much justice. The fact remains, though: killing these birds was the hardest thing I ever had to do and I was not looking forward to doing it again this year. Luckily, as fate would have it, I received a phone call in June from the farm while I was on delivery in Gallatin. The hatchery had called to say our turkeys didn't hatch––a somewhat common occurrence in the farming world––and we would not be raising turkeys this year. With a dauntingly busy season ahead of us, I think we were all a bit relieved. No one more than myself. That did leave the dilemma as to what we were going to eat this year, which leads us to The Legend of Bunker Bill.Bill got his name late in the season when he mysteriously broke his leg and spent the rest of his life limping around after me like a determined little soldier. It sounds sad, but he always seemed to be in good, curious spirits regardless of his disability. However, when we processed him, his body was a little beat up from his flailing nature so I opted to take him because no one was going to have a chance to use him. I had planned on cooking him over the winter then just never had a chance. The next thing I knew, I was back on the farm and he remained in the freezer until the season ended a few weeks ago. When you take a life, you begin to see the life that once inhabited your food. It would take a seriously convincing argument to ever get me to want to raise turkeys again, but I couldn't let Bill's life go to waste. Now, having inspected him and apologized, Bunker Bill is sitting in brine in the kitchen, waiting for tomorrow's feast. I'm thankful for his patience. I'm thankful for the opportunity to cook for my family––both old and new. And I'm thankful for the experience of raising turkeys, as they connected me to being thankful.- Jesse.
SIMPLE GIFTS.
Hannah and I now have very tangible evidence as to how lucky we are. It takes the form of 11 acres waiting for us to start farming and we couldn't be more thankful and grateful for her wonderful Aunt Kathy for offering it. We are allowed to live there for free until we have the money to buy it––that is a huge part of what makes this whole thing possible. But Hannah and I have both spent the last 8 months learning, not saving, and a farm doesn't earn you money until you make it a working farm. The nature of the business is that you have to have something to sell to earn money, and right now, all we have to sell is millions of delightful weeds and cockleburs. We plan on starting a CSA next season for our friends and family (details to come). Sometime around May the vegetables, God willing, will start erupting from the soil...but May is a long way off. There is a lot of work to be done in order to make that eruption possible. A garden space has to be cleared, land worked, manure spread, a greenhouse built, etc.. We also want to be able to offer eggs but lack the means to build a chicken coop and nest boxes, while clearing a place to put them. A well and spring exist and we hope to take advantage of those exceptional water sources, but it's going to require some infrastructure. All that, and we still haven't mentioned the cost of seeds (or chickens).This all brings us to the "donate button." Yikes, right? Don't sweat it, we're not going to hound our readers for their money; farming is our choice, and we look forward to the adventure. But we also know there are dozens of our friends and family who are looking for ways to help. This could be that way. Simply click on the donate button (to the right of this post, and also at the very bottom of the page) and it will take you to Paypal where you can donate $1 - $1 zillion. EVERY little bit helps. In lieu of asking everyone to donate a specific tool or packet of seeds, we felt it would be easier to let you contribute a little money and we can buy, say, a shovel in your honor! Conveniently, the holidays are coming up, and a donation made in someone's name would make a great, eco-friendly gift for the organically-minded. We would definitely enjoy providing an information packet about our farm to the recipient's as part of the gift, if you request! Also, so the donate button wouldn't get lonely, we added a button for you to sign up for our mailing list. You can find it at the bottom of each post, as well as in the CONTACT section. Anyone interested in an eventual CSA or in simply getting updates about the farm and blog will get occasional notes in their inbox from Rough Draft. So donate and help us plant our farm, or sign up for the email list to read our blog and give us feedback. Again, every little bit helps!
* UPDATE: Some people have been having trouble with the donate button. We have tried to fix the link, but if it still simply takes you to the "LOG IN" page, you will have to log in to your Paypal account, then "SEND MONEY" and send it to our email address - roughdraftfarmstead@gmail.com If you don't have a Paypal account and still want to support us, please let us know. Sorry about the confusion! We are a little rusty at this whole internet thing!
A LIGHT IN THE ATTIC.
Today, Jesse and I went to my grandparents house in search of some cast iron skillets and a roasting pan for our ridiculously enormous turkey. This adventure turned out to be quite a lengthy treasure hunt through their garage and attic, through old photographs and sleds and books and dollhouses and spider webs. We have been watching a lot of Antique Road Show as well as Hoarders this week, so we felt right at home. Sitting in the attic, looking through an old suitcase full of dresses as Jesse flipped through a box of 45's, I had a secret hope to have such an attic of our own one day: a place full of memories, objects of a life lived, artifacts of a tangible existence. Who might be rooting through our old pots and pans one day?By the end of the morning, we had found our turkey roaster! Hooray for our first Thanksgiving! However, as the supposed cast iron was nowhere to be found, I am happy for an excuse to go back and dig around more sometime soon.- Hannah.
BUGTUSSLE RD.
Over the course of this blog nothing will likely be referenced quite as much as our time spent at Bugtussle. It's where we interned, where we met, where we fell in love, and where we'll be calling frequently for advice when our own plants revolt. We owe a lot to our experience there, most notably each other, so you can bet that farm will come up a lot in future posts. There's something ineffably special about Bugtussle, beyond just the amazing name. Located about 75 miles northeast of Nashville, Bugtussle is 170 acres of verdant, lush and uninhibited life, the kind of place that if you stood in the wrong spot for too long nature would gladly envelope you. Of that 170 acres, about 2 - 3 acres are garden, 60 acres pasture and the rest is a mossy, wet forest. They don't apply chemicals––be it pesticides, fungicides or fertilizers––in their practices, nor do they use labels such as organic or biodynamic––though they employ philosophies from each. They're simply Bugtussle. A photographer friend of ours, Tim Harris, made this excellent video a couple years back that both Hannah and I remember watching before applying to the farm. Something about the way Eric talks about their land and their CSA members let's you know what kind of farmer he is. At the time, it let me know that he's exactly the kind of farmer I wanted to work for. I remember the late, great natural wine importer Joe Dressner once acknowledging that he didn't need to taste a wine to know if it was good; he just had to talk to the winemaker. Hannah and I didn't need to taste Bugtussle's food to know we wanted to work for Eric and Cher, we just had to meet the people that grew it*. Watch this wonderful video about Bugtussle.*Full disclosure, however, their sweet potatoes are otherworldly, and definitely did not hurt the decision.