Yesterwisdom: Poultry and Freedom

Posted on January 24, 2023 by Laura Lindblom under country life, the homestead

This picture has been circulating the internet. What an amazing and simple glimpse into the mindset of our grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ generations.

“Even the smallest back yard has room for a flock large enough to supply the house with eggs. The cost of maintaining such a flock is small. Table and kitchen waste provide much of the feed for the hens. They require little attention – only a few minutes a day. An interested child, old enough to take a little responsibility, can care for a few fowls as well as a grown person. Every back yard in the United States should contribute its share to a bumper crop of poultry and eggs in 1918. In Time of Peace a Profitable Recreation; In Time of War a Patriotic Duty.”

What a contrast to today. But 80 to 100 years ago, freedom and a free people were really desired, victory over enemies and national flourishing weren’t viewed as ills, and the people in government at least had a better understanding that a free nation is made up of free people who have a level of self sufficiency and aren’t reliant on the government. And just look where we are now.

Food production has become centralized and so many of our foods are imported. Just look at the recent “egg crisis.” When the bulk of the nation’s eggs are produced by a few huge producers, what happens when those producers go under or are struggling with diseased flocks? Or when flock management becomes an issue of governmental concern (i.e. tyranny)? On top of those issues, people have been stripped of their self sufficiency due at least in part to increased urbanized living, and we’ve bred a culture that values cheap plenty (ironically now not so cheap) over quality. But then there is the weird dichotomy where people are willing to pay $5 multiple times per week for a fancy coffee at Starbucks that is consumed in ten minutes, but $5 per dozen for eggs seems like a lot to pay. Or people go to Walmart expecting and willing to pay a given amount for cheap Chinese junk and mass produced food, but go to the farmer’s market and expect to pay less for goods produced by the small grower or local business. Clearly we as a culture need a change in mindset.

So go get your chickens or buy eggs from a small farmer. Grow your garden. Go to the farmer’s market. Make food from scratch. Pick a few things you consume a lot of and figure out how make them yourself. Learn to reuse and repurpose and become less reliant on stores and big businesses. Enjoy the satisfaction of capability. Enjoy the fruit of engaging with your community. Bring industry back to the local sphere.

Harvest

Posted on November 18, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

Dad is a South Dakota native, and he is back in his element. He went out this morning around 7:00, to “look for that buck.” Half an hour later, we got a call saying he had gotten a buck, in a meadow about a half mile from our front door. Talk about efficient. And he’s a dead shot, let me tell you. We’re not positive it was that buck, but we still have another tag left, so maybe we’ll get that buck after all.

Field dressing is something of a nasty business – The carcass is slit from the rib cage down and the entrails are essentially lifted out. They are all contained within a membrane sac and, provided you don’t cut the sac, they come out pretty cleanly. Nevertheless, it is a bloody process. Liver and heart are saved for cooking later, the inside of the carcass is washed out and the entire carcass is hung up to age.

In Illinois, with all the liberal bureaucracy and socialist gun control, being a legal hunter and firearm owner is challenging, and the hunting part isn’t nearly as simple as a hike from the front door. And you can’t just string the carcass up in your yard when you live in town, at least not in Illinois. I don’t think that is considered particularly socially acceptable.

Hunting is a misunderstood endeavor, by a significant portion of today’s population. When children are taught in schools the evolutionary idea that people are nothing more than a somewhat higher level of animal, why wouldn’t hunting be misunderstood?

But one only has to look as far as the book of Genesis to see that God gave mankind the job of stewardship of the earth (chapter 1), the command to fill the earth and subdue it (chapters 1 and 9), and permission to eat animals for food (chapter 9) which, I believe, was given with the condition of stewardship. God’s design for “stewardship” doesn’t mean leaving the environment alone, but treating it carefully, responsibly, and as a blessing from God. This includes responsible harvesting of wildlife and fostering healthy wildlife populations.

We aren’t exactly set up for processing the deer ourselves this year, and we need to get our freezer up and running, but we’re all already looking forward to having venison for a change.

Laura Elizabeth

The mother of invention

Posted on July 15, 2015 by Laura Lindblom under Uncategorized

The air smells of wounded pines and churning earth. Hail in sprawling drifts looks like snow, then piles of rough-cut diamonds, then destruction. The grass is flattened in the ditches, in our yard, and any depression, however small, is full of red mud water. The hail evaporates, feeding the growing presence of fog hanging heavy in the air.

After making it through all previous hail storms relatively unscathed, two weeks after the storm that took down a few trees and filled our ditches, our little valley was pounded again with rain and hail. An inch and a half of rain, and hail. The garden is gone, more trees and branches are down, and water is pouring into the dam. Even though it was too dark to see, I could hear water rushing in the corrals, in places where there is never water. Our ridge became a waterfall, and more rockslides happened.

The aftermath is quite enough to dampen spirits. Mom worked hard on the garden, and to a certain extent we were counting on it for this fall. However, I know God is good and gracious, and he is not a God of whim or malice. I think back to the pioneers, the first homesteaders, who weren’t just counting on their garden: their lives were depending on it. The survival of their crops meant enough money to buy food to last through the winter into the next growing season. It meant a surplus of five dollars to add to the dollar they already had in the bank. They depended on it. We only hoped our garden would turn out this year. It looks like it won’t. But I’m already working on some mental notes for a hail screen. Necessity is the mother of invention.