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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 cows 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 anything 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 anything 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, etc. 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 Berkshire. 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
convenience 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.
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