What's New? Chickens!

It was my mistake. I was perusing a hatchery web site and decided to place an order for 15 Rhode Island Reds. I clicked on this and that and when the final page came up, I realized that I had not seen a hatch date on any of the pages. The last web page said I would be notified by email of the hatch date. I placed the order, but had this nagging feeling that I should find out when these chicks were coming my way. After all, it was January, and I didn't want to deal with baby chicks until the end of February.

I had been keeping abreast of the blog news, and was well aware of the predictions of food shortages and rising food prices for 2011. I was thinking that it takes chickens a few months to mature before they lay eggs, so I thought that summer would be a good time to start having our own eggs. This thought that I'd better check on that hatch date kept coming to me, so I called the hatchery. This was on a Wednesday. I was told my chicks had hatched that morning and would be at my local post office the very next day, January 17th.

Scramble!!!! A quick trip to the farm supply store for a big washtub to keep them in, a waterer and a chick feeder plus some chick feed. We were all set. You are beginning to think, I am sure, do they have a chicken coop? The answer is no.

We drove to the post office the next morning in a strong snow storm, picked up a bolt in our tire on the way up and down the icy snowy hills from our house. The chicks were there all right, peeping away in their little box. Fortunately, we live in a farming town, so no one thought we were too strange sitting in the waiting room at the tire fixing place with a box of peepers on my lap.

We all arrived home safe and sound and got the chicks settled in their washtub. Then I realized what a predicament I had put my husband in. It was near the end of January and it was cold and windy. There was snow and ice everywhere, not a clear patch of ground to be found. We don't have a barn yet, just this little cabin. Michael looked at me and said, "Where and how am I supposed to build a chicken house?" Gulp.

The blizzard of 2011 on February 1st and 2nd along with several other snowy and windy events, slowed down his progress. Days and days out in the freezing cold till his hands were perpetually numb, and I was beginning to get the picture that I am far too impetuous. Yes, we needed chickens. No, we did not need to get them in the middle of winter. Believe me, I have apologized to him and to God many times.

All that to say, the chicken house is finished today. It is a balmy 64 degrees, the January thaw having come in February. It is none too soon, since the chickens are completely filling up the washtub by now. We are all looking forward to their new quarters, and some peace and quiet at night. Except for the coyotes howling at the gibbous moon.

Agricultural Tyranny

Tyranny requires people to sustain the system that exploits them. The 'system' may be the brainchild of a person, a government (military or political), or an infrastructure. But regardless of the source of the tyranny it can only be managed through intimidation and deceit. Where people are afraid they invariably yield to exploitation. Where people are deceived they tolerate tyranny (whatever its ilk) for as long as they remain deceived about the alleged benefits of the tyrannical system.

Whether intentional or not, the tyranny against local agricultural autonomy has two forms -- urbanization and industrialization. Where house is joined to house, so that the land can no longer sustain its inhabitants, agriculture becomes the slave of luxury. Everyone needs to eat but not everyone wants to work to grow the food they need to survive. That 'odious' task is relegated to those seen as 'less sophisticated laborers' -- in other words, to family farmers. By default, urbanization tyrannizes local agriculture.

To avoid the distasteful stigma of human agricultural exploitation (and to turn a healthy tax-profit in the process), governments usually promote agricultural industrialization. In this way, rather than exploiting their fellow man, they are able to exploit the efficiency of machines and the fertility of the land. However, the long-term productivity of the land is better served when tended personally by the smallholder rather than by industry. Of course, it may be legitimately argued, this effort neither makes one extravagantly wealthy nor is it industrially efficient. But is that really important in the epic scheme of things?

It is true that more men will have to sacrifice more time and personal effort to make the smallholder's land 'fruitful' than under the management of a centralized industrial regime. Yet, at the very least, these personal efforts at local cultivation will feed one's family if not the nation, resulting in one less family on the government dole. Farming will also keep one's children out of trouble while engaging them in meaningful labor that promotes a healthy work ethic, good nutrition, and strong bodies (assets to any nation).

Where there are many houses, there is no land left to tend and land that is no longer tended cannot sustain the luxury of the people living on it. For, ultimately, the rich are sustained by the fruitfulness of the land and even the wealthy perish where the land is made barren. But the industrial solution, since it wears out the land through its relentless exploitation, offers little long-term hope for resolving this dilemma. For where the land is cultivated more by industry than by families it quickly loses its long-term fertility.

What is the lesson to be learned here? Agriculture cannot sustain industry. It was never meant to. It cannot sustain that which exploits it to death and all industry (in some measure) exploits agriculture as reliably as the wealthy exploit the poor. Poverty is always the wholesale price of extravagance and greed. Luxury both causes and becomes the eventual victim of its own exploitation.

Thus, the tyranny of luxury that further impoverishes the poor also eventually erodes the foundations of a nation's health and wealth. This is the fruit of agricultural tyranny -- that a people who can no longer provide for themselves bankrupt the nanny state they've created to serve them. Under such duress, the government's options are few -- revolution, repentance, or war. In the current social venue, where an expedient solution will only compound the problem, the right choice rests on the courage and humility of a nation's leaders.

Michael Hennen

Natural Blessing

Nature is inherently fruitful. Barrenness is unnatural. Sterility and barrenness are perversions of nature. That is not to say that all barrenness is the result of perversion. Rather, perversions of nature are inherently sterile. Wherever barrenness and sterility prevail, a violation of nature has probably taken place. One organism can impose that violation of nature upon another, or the violation of nature can be a mutual choice. But wherever this trespass has occurred, nature wars against its perpetuation.

There are distinctions of kind in nature that prevent unwholesome and unhealthy imbalances. These distinctions prevent one kind of animal from regenerating offspring with another. They also prevent animals of the same gender from regenerating. Thus, mules cannot reproduce with one another any more than females can reproduce without males or males without females. Such relationships represent a perversion of nature.

Nature tends toward harmony and balance. Anything that threatens to compromise this harmony and balance is unnatural. Whatever is unnatural depends on what is natural to sate its appetite. But, though the unnatural can sustain itself with the nature that surrounds it, it does not and cannot contribute to the collective resource value of nature through regeneration. Rather, it siphons off nature's resources to satisfy its own short-lived narcissistic imbalance. The unnatural can destroy the local balance of nature, but it cannot regenerate that ability in others. Praise God! At some point, when it has consumed all available resources, without the ability to reproduce, the unnatural will invariably perish.

But, lest you think that such unnatural perversions and the resulting sterility are limited to the animal kingdom, consider the genetic barriers that prevent plants of one kind from crossbreeding with another kind. Apples and oranges, except when engineered by the most rigorous imposition of perverse and unnatural processes, cannot regenerate 'appanges' or 'orpples'. And when such perversions of nature are forced upon it, we often find that fauna dependent on flora for its daily sustenance, when given the choice, will prefer the unadulterated varieties to these engineering marvels. Thus, beef cattle prefer natural corn to genetically engineered varieties.

Wherever the preference for unnatural food does prevail, it is usually because flavor enhancers have been engineered into the product, not because the engineered variety is necessarily better for us. We can fool our preferences into consuming poison but not without devastating effects. Eventually, because nature strives toward balance and harmony, the detrimental effects of the perversion of nature will manifest in barrenness and death.

By contrast, nature is inherently reproductive. It regenerates itself by the most efficient means possible. It seeks out the environment that provides it with the best venue for regenerating resourcefulness. Thus, certain seeds prefer and flourish in certain climates and soils and certain animals prefer and flourish in certain climates at certain seasons. By the same virtue, certain animals gather in herds, others in prides, packs, swarms, schools, or flocks, and humans gather in families and neighborhoods.

It is only natural that organisms of one kind should gather to perpetuate their natural preference. It is also only natural that barrenness and death should limit unhealthy, unnatural preferences. When the viability of an organism is threatened, nature intervenes to nullify that threat. That such conflicts occur within nature should not surprise us. Far more remarkable is the genius that gave nature that ability.

There is a natural blessing cast upon all of creation. It is a blessing from God that perpetuates the balance and harmony of His design. Wherever the violation of that balance and harmony is threatened, barrenness and death inevitably seek to sterilize such unnatural preferences. All of nature conspires to oppose what is unnatural.

Thus, seed that is unsuitable to a certain soil or environment will either cross with more suitable seed of its kind or eventually deplete what it needs to regenerate and survive. Where, certain animals have become overpopulated, the nutritive resources that sustain them dwindle to regulate their population. Where human preference wars against healthy families, the families that sustain a neighborhood, community or nation are decimated through barrenness, poverty, disease and war.

God's blessing is upon whatever He considers natural and His curse is upon our destructive, unnatural processes and preferences. He has designed nature to be a blessing. Whatever resists or opposes the perpetuation of that natural blessing is eventually consumed or destroyed by it. War will never generate peace, sterility will never produce fertility, greed will never reproduce generosity, selfishness will never reproduce love, and exploitation will never reproduce conservation.

Nature is both meek and tenacious. When threatened, it takes the meekest possible road. When left alone its tenacity erodes even the most durable of human monuments. Though it is so delicate in the hands of men, yet, nature will prevail long after time has erased the last footprint of mankind from the earth. Ultimately, nature is inescapable.

To enjoy natural, regenerative blessings here on earth, mankind must cooperate with nature and yield to nature's God. No amount of defiance or human engineering will ever erase God's natural blessing. Nature is a reflection of the meek and the indomitable character of the Creator. Nature is bigger than man's pride and presumption. The sooner we come to this realization, the sooner we'll be able to return to living in harmony and balance with God's nature.

Michael Hennen

Eat Seasonally, Eat Locally

God had a reason for creating food to ripen at certain times. It seems that the nutrients we need are supplied in the right season. Oranges and lemons in the winter, cherries in the spring, eggplant and peppers and zucchini in the summer, sounds Mediterranean to me. The foods we preserve keep us through the winter, but the remainder of the year, fresh seasonal food is the best choice. The picture you see above was taken after a shopping trip to my local grocery store - artichokes and citrus in season!

Most people today have a disconnected view of food. I heard an interview on TV a few years ago with people on the street in Maryland being asked if a certain law regarding farmers should be passed. One woman remarked, "Why do we need farmers? We have the supermarket." I was astounded. Just recently, a friend mentioned to me that it was too bad we couldn't grow certain vegetables out of season, "After all, they are in the supermarket, so why can't we grow them now?" Amazing. She apparently had no idea that these foods were imported from other lands where they were in season, picked too early, gassed and shipped many miles to this island so we could eat the things we want any time we want. This generation is deeply out of touch with the rhythm of life, the changing seasons, and the pace of nature.

I propose that we live more in tune with the seasonal changes of food production. I enjoy the changing vegetable options as the year progresses. On the corner near my house there is a small mom and pop grocery store. I talked to the owner and asked him about his produce. He said, "I buy the vegetables from the farmers here nearby. It is always fresher." I inquired about the rabbit meat and asked where the rabbit farm was. "It is not a farm for rabbits, it is a house where they keep rabbits." Hooray for local food production! It is not organic, but it is local. So I go with local whenever I can.

Our garden about 7 kilometers from our house is organic, but we do not sell the produce. Instead we use it to feed several missionary families that live in the area. We have avoided pesticides, herbicides, and chemical fertilizers. One day we were out with everyone hoeing the healthy weeds out, when one person said to me, "Haven't you ever heard of herbicides?" I said, "Yes, first it poisons the weeds, then it poisons you." Another disconnect from the city-raised folks. There is no firewall between the pesticides and herbicides and your own body.

I am happy buying the seasonal vegetables from our corner store. In fact, when I go to the city supermarket to buy my monthly supplies, I skip most of the produce section and save my money for the local stuff closer to home. I would love it if the local farmers would not use chemical fertilizers, pesticides or herbicides, but all the world has bought into the food production paradigm offered by modern industrial agriculture. I buy organic when I can, grow it when I cannot, and then buy locally to enjoy the seasonal variety of foods.

Aimee Hennen 

Trees

Trees are earthbound witnesses. They wear the scars of every storm, every fire, every drought, and every year of abundant rain. They also humbly wear the scars of men and animals as if they were trophies of grace.

Trees declare the warmth of every sunny day and the cold of every snow-swept winter. They display the colors of change for everyone to see, and herald, sometimes with bright flowers, the coming new life of spring.

They are silent witnesses, not casting judgment, but unafraid to declare what they cannot deny. Their roots are familiar with ancient things. Their limbs and leaves ring with the laughs of children, the kisses of lovers, and with the sobs of old men.

Though they never raise in protest a voice that men can hear, when cut down, they continue to witness faithfully and loudly both to the skill and to the finiteness of mankind.

We sit on them, write on them, sleep on them, put volumes of our knowledge on them, and seek shelter under them. Trees are without prejudice, friends to every man. There is not one of them that will raise itself in war against him or against his neighbor.

When burned, they testify to the warmth of their Maker. When formed and fashioned by the hands of men, they testify with a sweet fragrance to God's strength and beauty. By their fruit the savor of God's love for mankind is unmistakable. When barren, the earth beside them mourns.

If you see a tree as a witness of God's glory whose voice can reach beyond your own generation, or even beyond that of your children's children, you will not hasten to cut it down except in the most dire or noble of pursuits.

Trees, planted to declare the glory of heaven to men, are earthbound witnesses of our compassion, of our faith, of our steadfastness, and also of our cruelty. Perhaps that is why God chose to display His love on a tree, so that we would never forget the beauty of His steadfast love or our desperate need for His redemption.

Michael Hennen

A Little Background

Our agrarian roots go way back. My parents were both raised in the farming community of Dutchtown, Louisiana. Although after World War II they headed to the oil fields of Venezuela to work, they nevertheless always had a little garden in every place we lived. Mom loved okra for her gumbo, and Dad enjoyed nice juicy homegrown tomatoes.

MIchael's father was raised on a farm in MInnesota. After World War II he studied Mechanical Engineering and Economics in college. He and his bride settled in Ottumwa, Iowa, to pursue a career with John Deere, working to improve tractors. Always in their back yard a little garden grew, and behind their lot there was a 7 acre cow pasture, home to many adventures for the little cowboys and Indians they raised.

Growing up, I always had an interest in the great outdoors. At first I was drawn to oceanography and marine biology, since we lived on the beach of the Caribbean Sea while my father was refinery manager in Costa Rica. The beautiful tropical foliage, the wonderful and colorful bird life in the trees, and even the little land crabs that migrated once a year across the landscape, all fascinated me. In our side yard someone had planted a hibiscus bush and then grafted in many different kinds and colors of hibiscus flowers. 

After moving back to the States, I finished high school one month after my sixteenth birthday and in the fall of that year I enrolled in LSU. My major? General Agriculture. The counselors all advised me to go into agribusiness, but my feeling was that I wanted to grow things and have a cow, not get involved in the big corporations or the competitive world of agribusiness. 

My fellow classmates seemed to all have farm backgrounds, so I was at a disadvantage. For example, for one class we went to a barn to judge sheep. They brought out four sheep and we were supposed to classify them from best to worst. This was my first close up look at a sheep. I had no idea what to look for. So I guessed at my answers. I was wrong.

My Dairy Science class was all about how to run a dairy and artificially inseminate cows. ONe of my fellow students, a Vietnam veteran, was feeling the same uneasiness I was feeling. When would they begin to teach about cows and how to take care of them?

After a year at LSU, I transferred to NLU, a little college in northeast Louisiana, and I changed my major to Horticulture. Here I got to spend time in a green house, and we went out to collect soil samples in the forest, then brought them back to the lab to analyze them. I didn't finish my degree, but I did continue to have an interest in growing plants.

After returning to Venezuela as a missionary in 1988, I met my husband Michael and we began a joyful partnership for life. One of the first things we did in our mountain home in the Andes was to plant a garden. Michael dug the whole thing by hand and then we planted strawberries and a few vegetables. He bent the shovel on the hard ground! We bought chicks, reasoning that a little food production would help the Lord out with our missionary support. Well, the neighbors (an extremely poor family) stole our strawberry plants. One morning our chicks, that were supposed to be all hens, began to crow at daybreak. We gave them to the extremely poor family down the road.

In Russia we didn't have any land to plant on, since we lived in the collective apartment housing of the city of Togliatti for six years. But we thoroughly enjoyed every visit to the small Russian villages in the summer, to eat and drink with our church members and other friends, and enjoy the beautiful Russian countryside. I have to say that if Russia could ever straighten itself out after centuries of the feudal system, bad government, and crazy politics, homesteading in Russia could be a good thing.

In Kazakhstan where we ministered for three years, we again did not have any land to plant on, but we did take advantage of the fresh vegetable markets all around the city of Almaty. Amazing produce, sold by the farmers of the villages surrounding the city, graced our table at every meal. "Sister, buy my apples!" a local Muslim in the market would yell at me. Herbs and spices, the colors of the vegetables, the smells of roasting chicken kabobs, made every trip to the market an enjoyable experience. It was just hard to lug home the bulging mesh bags filled with all the goodies.

Here in Cyprus, we moved to the mountains to be with our Messianic Jewish friends who have a discipleship school and community. They bought 4 and a half acres nearby, so guess who helped set up the garden? That's right! We did. 

In the fall of 2008, we purchased 26 acres in northern MIssouri. This will be our future homestead, Lord willing. Meanwhile, we continue to appreciate God's good earth, and the gifts He gives us through other members of His Body, and the celebration of the Feasts of the Lord together. This agrarian life is good.

Gardening in Cyprus

Last year we visited with some dear relatives in Minnesota. They were telling us about their severe drought - they hadn't had rain for a whole month! The crops were failing, farmers were worried.

 We live year round in Cyprus. I had to chuckle about this Minnesota drought, because we don't get rain here from about April to the end of September in a good year. This year (2008) it didn't rain from the end of February until October, Now that's a drought.

This garden picture you see above is from the year 2007. We live in the mountains and the area is an agricultural area. Mostly grapes and olives are grown here, but there are some farmers down the road that keep the local grocery store supplied with fresh produce. It is not organically grown, unfortunately. We have made every effort in our community garden to keep it organic. We wonder when the rain washes the soil from the mountain above us into our garden how organic it really is.

This year I don't have a picture of our garden. We planted it early, but the weather stayed cool and nothing was growing. Then the rain stopped, and we had no well. All there was for water was a foul spring that was filled with frogs and their pee. So we used that until it ran out. We had a week between the time when the frog pee water ran out and the well got dug, and that's all it took to wipe us out. The tomatoes fried, the cucumbers turned white, the corn died at 2 feet tall. But I have to report that the eggplant, the bell peppers, the onions and zucchini all made it. We had a bumper crop of those!

All this to say that water is a precious resource. Here in the Mediterranean it is a critical resource, and one that we must conserve. I am learning to use less water to wash dishes, to save water in the bottom of drinking glasses to pour on my house plants, and to not wash my car although it looks so dusty.

I will never take water for granted again.

Gardening in Cyprus,

Aimee