LOOKING TO THE FUTURE

Here in Connecticut, April is the first month of spring, and with the coming of spring, comes transformation—transformation which is particularly striking; in fact, almost miraculous to a New Zealander like myself. For, in a few short weeks, the drab, dull and uninteresting landscape of leafless trees, dormant and frost-browned pastures and grey granite boulders is changed into a scene of overwhelming activity on the part of nature. Trees which appeared stark and naked burst into blossom—particularly cherry trees—the oaks, elms and maples change from grey to green, and farmers talk of how soon it will be before the herd will be able to be turned out on to pasture. Even so, I find the spring air chilly enough to necessitate my wearing two shirts and a sweater while working about the farm.

Spring here is very important to the farmer. All winter long he has to house his stock, feed them and care for them, and now he looks forward to the time when he can graze his cattle on pasture, cut down his grain feeding, which consumes such a large portion of his milk cheques, and spend extra time in attending to farm work about the farm, instead of grooming, feeding and cleaning out barns.

This is the picture that has been presented to me during the past month. Everywhere I have been, and on all farms that I have stayed the situation is the same. No one mentions the win- ter that has just passed; the snow which has lain feet deep; the ice storms which play havoc with electric wires and break large limbs off the trees; the frost which has killed the clover in their pastures, or the 33 days of rain that we have had during the last 50 days. But all look forward to and talk of making hay and silage, planting corn or building a new barn to house

the heifers in next winter. This attitude of looking forward to the future with optimism, and making light of the more monotonous side of dairying—housing stock for six months of the year—is typical, I think, of dairy farmers in Connecticut.

BARNS AND MILKING MACHINES

With temperatures below zero during the six months of winter, the housing of stock becomes a necessity, and large barns with upright silos are as common here as cowsheds back in New Zealand. Most of the barns are large wooden structures with shingled roofs, but fancy, tiled barns are not infrequent, the latter being run by businessmen from the larger cities like New York and Boston who still have money to spare after buying a Cadillac for each member of the family. All the older barns are built of chestnut, but a virus disease destroyed all the chestnut trees same 25 to 30 years ago. Hemlock, fir and spruce are the timbers most commonly used now, but some farmers are fortunate enough to have plantations of oak, which is a superior timber. The barns usually have high ceilings to provide ample ventilation, but forced ventilation is now common in newer buildings. The stock are lined down each side of the barn with their heads locked in stanchions. Leg ropes are not common. Enough room is allowed for the passage of feed barrows between the heads of the cattle and the wall, and the rows of cattle are separated by three to five yards.

Pipeline milking machines, such as we have in New Zealand, are the envy of all Connecticut dairymen. Americans still use machines that deposit the milk in a bucket; they carry the bucket into the milkroom, which may be 50 yards or more in a big barn, empty it, and bring it back again — just like herd-testing day in New Zealand. Most farmers know about pipeline milking machines, but nobody seems over-anxious to install them.

PASTURE PROBLEMS

Because of the severe winter conditions the life of pasture, and more especially legumes, is comparatively short. Normally, clover and alfalfa will survive for only four to five years. The replacement of pasture, therefore, is necessary every six years at least. The main cause of destruction is the severe ‘frost lifting’ during winter, and the subsequent thaw in early spring. Because of comparatively little competition from weeds only a few pounds of seed are necessary for the establishment of good, sound pasture. The usual seeding ranges from between 8 to 12 lb, which includes about 4 lb. of clover and 8 lb. of grasses. Red clovers are seldom used because these will not persist for any length of time, but the use of Lodino clover has now become universal. This clover apparently resists the winter conditions better than other clover species, while at the same time the abundance of foliage produced during the summer months is unsurpassed. Alfalfa is used both for haying purposes and for grazing, but it is seldom sown as a straight mixture, farmers preferring to mix it with permanent pasture grasses. The most common grasses used are Broome, Timothy and Ochard grass.

If ‘frost lifting’ were confined to pasture the problem would be bad enough, but the damage by frost to fences is quite extensive, too. On every farm that I have visited so far, repair work to fences has been in progress. All fence posts are loosened up over the winter, and in severe cases posts are lifted right out of the ground. When building a fence here a hole has first to be pierced in the stony ground with a crowbar, and then, with the gentle persuasion of a 16in. sledge-hammer, the posts, which are pointed at one end, are driven in. Pointed posts are used as they are easier to drive in again after each successive winter. Fence wire cannot be stretched too tightly either, for tightly strained wire will snap off when ice or snow accumulates on it during the winter. I have yet to see a fence that would be sheep-proof, and without netting farmers could not build a sheep-proof fence. All fencing is done during early spring, as the softness of the ground enables posts to be driven in much more easily.

LONG DAILY ROUTINE

Those are just a few of the more important problems of dairy farming in Connecticut. Because by far the greater part of the day is spent in the barn, work about the farm doesn't receive the attention that it should. On Mr Tomlinson's farm, where I have been working, work began at 4.45 in the morning. The cows had to be fed silage and grain before milking commenced at 5.15. With milking machines lacking the milk pipeline, three sets of teat-cups make a two-man job, so that milking takes longer and requires more labour than is necessary in New Zealand. We would wash up the utensils and be in for breakfast at 7 o'clock, and at 8 o'clock we were back on the job. The cows here were turned out for exercising. Manure was shovelled into the manure-spreader, and taken out and spread on the pasture. New bedding for the cows was forked out, while sawdust or wood shavings were scattered in with the bedding and in the drains to absorb moisture. Water cannot be used for cleaning out the barns, as cows would be lying in damp bedding. Drinking cups were cleaned out and hay put out for the cows to eat during the day. The cows were then brought back inside, and

the middle passage between the rows of stantions was scraped, swept and dressed with lime to absorb moisture and keep dirt and odour down. Finally the cows were groomed. By this time it was 10 o'clock in the morning. This barn was very efficiently managed, and these boys knew how to work, for in many cases I have seen farmers just finishing cleaning out their barn at 11.30. At nights, silage and grain was fed before milking, and hay fed after. It is not until one has seen for oneself the work involved in barn-feeding that one really appreciates one's good fortune in being able to pasture cattle for twelve months of the year.

Farmers here do not observe a break for morning or afternoon tea, but the three meals that are served are hearty and substantial ones. It is merely a habit of consuming sufficient at one meal to carry you through to the next. At first I really did miss my cups of tea, but have now become accustomed to three meals a day with coffee to follow. Because three meals a day is usual practice, the habit of making cups of tea for casual visitors does not exist. Most housewives are staggered by the fact that women in New Zealand can find sufficient time to serve morning and afternoon tea—and supper—in addition to the three main meals.

JOINING A LODGE

The Wilmots are quite a large family, consisting of five boys and a girl. Two of the boys work on the farm, two of them are still going to school, and the remaining brother and the girl are attending colleges. They derive the utmost pleasure from working on their farm and discussing farming topics at night, when most young fellows would want to be heading off to some livelier source of entertainment. They also rejected television sets, on the grounds that they distracted you from your work too much.

All the members of the family, however, did take a very keen interest in an organization called ‘Grange’ and all participated in the activities of their local branch of ‘Grange’. It is an organization chiefly concerned with the interests of rural people, and is operated along the lines of a ‘lodge’ or secret society. Its major purpose is to promote better family life by providing programmes which include topics on agriculture and education, and some form of musical or social entertainment for those so inclined. During my stay so far I have been invited to speak or show films at many of their meetings, but due to the nature of this organization I was excluded from the formal section of their meetings. This meant that often I would have to sit outside the door for a half to three-quarters of an hour, go in and give my talk, and then sit outside again for another half-hour before the meeting finished and supper was served. As this situation was not entirely satisfactory as far as I was concerned, and as I possess the inquisitiveness common to most members of the human race, I decided it would be much more convenient to become a member of ‘Grange’ myself. During my visit with the Wilmots I joined ‘Grange’ and no longer have to sit outside the door, but can go in and participate in normal activities of any ‘Grange’ meeting in the States. At the same time I have found these activities instructive, and thoroughly worthwhile.

THE TEMPERAMENTAL LITTLE MINK

One of my most interesting experiences so far was when I had the opportunity of paying a short visit to a mink farm. This particular industry has now been operating for some 25 to 30 years in the States, and in the State of Connecticut there are three such farms. This particular farm that I visited was one of the larger ones, having about 2,000 animals. The farming of mink is not at all an easy occupation and requires very highly specialized knowledge to be operated successfully, but when such success can be obtained it becomes one of the highest paying forms of farming.

The mink themselves are exceedingly temperamental animals and must be handled with great care at all times. They resemble in appearance a small type of fox, not much bigger than the average sized domesticated cat.

In the United States, small farmers usually raise a variety of crops, including feed for their dairy and beef cattle. (U.S.I.S. Photograph)

The coat colours vary a great deal depending on particular breed, but wide variations of colours do exist within breeds. Varying shades range from jet black to sky-blue. The mink are kept in low-roofed houses with netting sides, not unlike a chicken or rabbit coop. One male is kept for about every 20 females, and litters range from two to eight young.

At birth the young mink are very delicate, and compare in size with a person's thumbnail. The young mink are born during the month of May, so that this event was under way at the time of my visit. It is during this period that the famales are most difficult to manage, and are exceedingly timid. Once disturbed they become so aggravated that they start devouring their young. This aggravation may be caused by them being frightened by the presence of strangers or again if their food supply should ever become short. It is necessary, therefore, to supply as much food as the females can possibly eat, and to protect them from all causes of disturbances.

Mink can be fed a great variety of foods, but strictest rules of hygiene have to be enforced. Cows' milk, ground meat, liver, meat-meal, and some corn and cereals are included in their diet, but mink have a particular fondness for horse-meat and mink farmers will pay big prices for well conditioned horses which, however, are at a premium.

About Christmas time, when the young mink are about six months old, they are slaughtered and skinned, the skins are cured and packed in bundles, and sent to one of the many mink auctions in this country. Here the skins are graded (according to shade of fur and quality of skiri) and sold by auction to buyers from all over the world. Prices range from $16.00 to $100.00 each, depending on the demand of the market. At present phenomenal money is being paid for mink furs of the sky-blue shade, while the market for the more common black mink furs has slumped.

Nearly every year a new breed or ‘mutation’ is developed, and farmers who develop these new breeds or who have animals of these new and desirable types make fortunes by selling foundation stock to other farmers. Some farmers pay as much as $1,200 for a male of some new breed of mink. The cost of raising these animals is around $11.00 each. In general the mink farmer is essentially a gambler. He never knows what the markets will be like in the following season, and fluctuations in the market are everyday occurrences. Speaking for myself, I would much rather pin my faith on the humble dairy cow than on the temperamental little mink and a temperamental market.

New Zealand is just one of many countries sending farmers to the U.S. under the exchange scheme. Here Sir Datar Singh, of India, discusses dairying with a farmer in the State of Maryland. (U.S.I.S. Photograph.)