The Heirloom Orchardist

Gathering and Packing Fruit (ca. 1836)

It's too easy for us heirloom fruit enthusiasts to speak with distain about contemporary fruit varieties.  "They're bred only to survive the rigours of travel," we'll frequently say.  "There's no respect for flavor."

Well truthfully, there is something to be said for having your fruit survive the rigours of travel.  This was a major concern to the Heirloom Orchardist.  A responsible orchardist didn't want his order of apples to arrive at its destination as a mass of fetid applesauce.  Which, by the way, happened too often.

So, when I come upon an old farmer who really took pride in his packing, I have great repect.  It gives me a new perspective on what it was like to grow and sell fruit during the days of the Heirloom Orchardist. The following comes from The Farmers' Cabinet, and American Herd-book, Volume 11, Nov 16, 1846:

"About the autumn of the year 1836 or '37, I had some thirty or forty barrels of apples to pick. In the orchard with some other fruit trees were some Newtown pippin trees...It was a "bearing year," as farmers call it, and there was a great crop of apples; and I had very few wormy ones."

"We picked the apples by hand, and did not pour them from one basket to another without putting soft hay or oat straw between them. While pouring them we put straw on the floor of the room in which they were stored; there was also straw put on the bottom of each basket, and on the bottom of the cart we carried them in; all this was done to keep them from bruising."

"After they were all housed, we set to work to sort them, rejecting all which had any defects, and if damp, wiping off the moisture. We next took each apple and rolled it in coarse clean paper. The paper had this effect—it keeps the apples from rubbing each other, and keeps them at a certain degree of moisture, not allowing them to evaporate or receive damp. In the bottom, and around the sides of the barrels, a small quantity of straw was placed, and the apples laid in, one at a time, and as close to each other as they possibly could be, without jamming them. When the barrel was filled, a little more straw was put on the top, and the head of the barrel put in, with an inside lining hoop, to keep the head from being knocked in, by accident. These apples were put up to order, and were to go to Sheffield, in England."

"After taking all these precautions, I wrote a direction to this effect:  'These barrels of apples are not to be rolled or tumbled about; if carted, or sent any way by land, something is to be put on the floor of the cart or wagon, so as to keep them from being bruised, rattled, or jolted.'"

"The apples when packed in this way, were tight in the barrels, and could not be made to rattle with common usage.  M. C. W., who ordered them, informed me that they arrived at the destined place, and were all sound to an apple, and much admired by the consignee for their preservation and manner of putting up."

"People may talk as much as they have a mind to about the heat and damp of ships, and so on, being the cause of the apples rotting; but who could expect that an apple, or any other fruit or vegetable could be kept from it, if jammed or bruised constantly."

Unfortunately, this orchardist's account in The Farmer's Cabinet doesn't mention how large his orchard was.  I'm guessing some of his colleagues may have said "sure friend, you can go to all that trouble with only 30 to 40 barrels of fruit....but last year I packed 200 barrels.  I can't spend that much time packing."

And this orchardist would have politely replied: "you may want to hire a few more good men, or reduce the size of your orchard."

Just prior to the turn of the century, the use of barrels for transporting fruit started to wain.  Promoted by the US Dept. of Agriculture, orchardists began using a new-fangled method of packing apples in boxes.  This improved the packing process, and the quality of the fruit upon reaching its destination.  It seems that apple growers started to take more pride in their product.  The development of colorful fruit labels showed-up on the crates.  Today, these labels are highly sought-after for their decorative quality.

(Apple picking images courtesy of the National Apple Museum)

The Lying Stinking Cheating Orchardist

Oh No! Say it ain't so!  The Heirloom Orchardist was sometimes a lying cheating bum?!

Yup, 'fraid so...That humble orchardist, the one we think of going out to his orchard day after day to grind an honest living from his land, was on occasion a stinkin' cheat.  Actually, based on what we see in the farm journals published throughout the 19th century (right on into the 20th century) it happened more frequently than "on occasion."  It was a major problem.

This cheating had to do with packing the fruit.  Here's a piece from the Farm Journal, published in December of 1903:

"All over the country about these days the farmers are packing apples for the market. It takes no small amount of grace in the heart to do that work faithfully and well. But it pays, and pays big, to be honest about packing apples. A row of splendid apples at the bottom of the barrel and then a bushel or two of small, gnarly ones, is just the best way in the world to make men have doubts about the future welfare of the human race. As the world grows better it packs its apples all the way through the barrel as nearly alike as possible."

It seems that our cheating orchardist became so notorious, that buyers learned to look out for him.  An account in the June 10 1908 Market Growers Journal provides an apple buyer's experience:

"I was once buying Apples for home use. The dealer had a number of barrels. "These," said he, pointing to a barrel of Baldwins, "are $2.50 a barrel." "These," pointing to another barrel, "are $3.50 a barrel." Both looked alike on top. But on the head of the ones priced $3.50 was a stencil, "Grown, packed and shipped by: (Orchardist name here), Lockport, N. Y." On the head of the other barrel was a lead pencil scrawl, "Baldwins," and in the middle of the barrel was a motley collection of cullings perfectly worthless. I bought the other barrel, and the Apples all through it were just like those on top, and the dealer said: "That man's Apples always top the market." And it was proper that they should, for they were honestly packed and the grower was proud of his product, for not a scabby Apple was in the barrel. The other packer did not want any one to know who packed or grew the miserable cheat, and his dishonest packing knocked off $1.00 a barrel and should have knocked off more."

Apparently, some clever growers took advantage of the pervasive skepticism.  They packed their fruit well, established a reputation for honesty, and charged a premium for it.  Now, that's the way to do it. That's my kind of entrepreneurial orchardist!

The Definition of Horsepower

Along with the industrial revolution, came a multitude of mechanisms used to "harness" energy sources such as water power and steam power.  This necessitated some uniform means of describing how powerful these machines could be.  The most ubiquitous source of power in those agrarian days, was the horse.  This was the most logical base of reference.  So along came "horsepower" (also noted as two words, "horse power").

But how much power is horse power?  What most people don't understand is that time is an element of the equation.  Here, we find the definition tucked into the corner of a page of the November 6, 1856 issue of the Maine Farmer:

"The power of a horse is understood to be that which will elevate a weight of 33,000 pounds the height of one foot in a minute of time, equal to about 90 pounds at the rate of four miles an hour."

But who devised this definition?  It was James Watt of course...the guy who invented the steam engine.  His need for a way to explain a "quantity" of power was urgent.  How would he promote his machines, if he couldn't present how much power they provided?  Watt needed a way to explain a steam engine's capability in a way to which people could relate.  So he did some tests, and established "the power of a horse."

Later, when Watt's steam engines came to be used to generate elecricity, we needed a means of explaining how much energy was produced.  Along came the watt (as in "60-watt light bulb"), a unit named after James Watt.  But The Heirloom Orchardist doesn't have the horsepower to explain how that term came about.

Image Source:  Popular Mechanics Magazine, August 1939

Graft your wild apple trees. Why not?!

"Here on this rugged and woody hillside, has grown an apple tree, not planted by man, no relic of a former orchard, but a natural growth, like the pines and oaks." - Henry D. Thoreau

Thoreau called them "wild apples."  Today they're more apt to be"crab apples," or "volunteers."  Whatever they are, I'm quite excited about this suggestion I found in the December 1888 issue of The Orchard and Garden Magazine:

"A few weeks since while walking over a large hillside farm, we noticed, growing along fences here and there in the open fields, fine, thrifty apple trees.  They were seedlings, coming up from a stray seed dropped by birds or small animals, and the fruit, so far as noticed, was worthless.  There were not less than a score of these trees."

"It would cost less than a dollar each to graft them into first-class fruit and in three year's time they would repay it.  Why not do it?  There are thousands of such trees all over the country which should be similarly treated."

Well, what say you?  Why not do it?

Here's what The Heirloom Orchardist says:  Do it.  Plan for it now, order your scions, and do some grafting early next year.  If you've got a scrubby volunteer crab apple growing in any sunny spot on your land, you've got a great opportunity to create an Heirloom Apple tree.

Consider the following:

1. Your crabapple tree has never been considered anything special.  2. You've always wanted to give grafting a try.  3. If the grafts don't take, you've expended limited time and effort.  4.If the grafts do take, you've created a fantastic asset that'll last for years.

Did someone say "lemons to lemonade" or "windfalls to cider"?  This suggestion of 1888 really zeros-in on what The Heirloom Orchardist is all about.  That is, reading up on the way our agrarian ancestors worked and thought, learning from it, and adapting it to this day-and-age.  There's a lot we can learn.

Pruning Apple Trees; 6 Reasons to do it NOW

On the topic of Pruning Apple Trees, we find the following published in The Maine Farmer, on December 27, 1855:

"MR. EDITOR: - Having been in the practice of grafting, some thirty years or more…I think I may claim…to have gained knowledge. I propose, in this communication, to say a few words about pruning apple trees.  I am aware that different persons select different seasons, and each one gives his reasons for his favorite time of year.  I, Mr. Editor, prefer the months of November and December, for many reasons."

"One is that the stump will remain sound for many years, and the wood will be sound after it is healed over.  This no fancy picture.  Another is, sap never oozes out of the wound.  A third, the whole of the sap, when it rises in the spring, will go into the remaining branches, without check or interruption.  A fourth, you may walk about in the tree without injuring it by loosening the bark.  Fifth, if you take most of the top off, what is left will grow vigorously the next season.  Lastly, those who will, can attend to it at this time of year as well as any other."

William Burns
New Gloucester, Dec. 10, 1855.

The Heirloom Orchardist likes this guy.  William Burns is a straight talking, practical thinker... not to mention, a clear master of the obvious.

So now, during the off-season, prune your apple trees. I'm sure you can attend to it this time of year as well as any other.

This is no fancy picture.

Protecting Fruit Tree Trunks from Rodents

If we peruse the old agricultural papers, we see this topic reappearing every fall.  Because late in the year is the time to protect your trees from winter rodent damage.  The following inquiry appeared in the Country Gentleman, published in Alabany, NY on October 20, 1910:

"PROTECTING TRUNKS.—Please inform me where I can obtain veneer strips or similar material for putting around trunks of young apple trees to prevent Injury from sun scald, mice, etc. E. D. C. Bantam, Conn.

 We do not know of any one in the East who is making or selling these veneer strips for tree protectors. They can be bought of the Burlington Basket Co., Burlington, LA.  With the great revival of interest in fruit growing now going on in the East, this orchard device should be taken up by some Yankee manufacturer. Perhaps it would be well in this connection to consider the feasibility of using newspapers. Three or four thicknesses of common newspaper bound about the stem of a young tree will protect it effectually from the damage sometimes caused by small rodents. New York Sunday papers preferred, as no self-respecting beast would touch one."

The Heirloom Orchardist does not recommend wood veneer strips for this application.  Nowadays, this material is too expensive, and it degrades quickly.  Fortunately, there are better products available today, from our friends at Nature Hills:

Fruit Tree Bark Protectors

Work for February, 1865: Pick Caterpillers Eggs

Regarding work to be done this month, you may want to stroll through your orchard, and pick (not fruit, but) caterpiller egg cases.  Sound like fun?  The following advice was found in the Illustrated Annual Register of Rural Affairs, edited by John Jacob Thomas, 1865:

"Work for February - Caterpillar's Eggs.  - Pass through orchards and fruit-gardens with a basket on the left arm, and a knife or pruning-shears on a pole in the right hand, and clip off every shoot that contains a nest of caterpillar's eggs and carry them in the basket and burn them. Each nest contains several hundred eggs, (fig. 6,) and trees are now more easily and effectually cleared of them than after they have hatched and formed large webby nests.  They encircle the young twigs near the extremities, and are thus easily detected by the practiced eye, and readily clipped off.  A day should be selected for this work when the sky is rather dark, otherwise the eyes will be unpleasantly affected by the constant looking upward."

How’s that for an Integrated Pest Management (IPM) technique, ca. 1865?  It's actually promoted today as an affective IPM method, particularly for those with a small orchard.  But if you had hundreds of trees? Well, one can understand why The Heirloom Orchardist might have embraced chemical pesticides when they became available.

Today, a balanced approach is appropriate.  The Tent Caterpiller seems to be the target in the above 1865 account.  Another non-spray approach may be to wait until the eggs hatch, then go after the small caterpiller nest, before it gets too large.  The nests are easier to see than the little shiny black egg clusters.  But timing is critical....those tiny larva hatch just in time for bud break. They can cause quick damage to young leaves!

Tree Bark Protection & Farmer Thoughtless

I stumbled upon this silly anecdote in my Saturday, August 13, 1853 issue of the New England Farmer.  It was printed in Boston, when horses were as common as cars.  While we are on the subject of tree protection, I thought I’d re-publish it here:

"People often set fine trees about their buildings or gates, and leave them unprotected by stakes or boxes.  By-and-by neighbor Cleverman rides up with his bay colt, full of fire and mettle, in order to pass the compliments of the evening, or perhaps, purchase the present year's crop of onions.  He looks for a post to which he may tie his champing steed, but there is none!  Nothing presents itself but a beautiful rock maple, which, surprising as it may seem, has been growing by the side of the gate for four years, and has just formed a head of perfect grace and symmetry.  So Bucephalus is hitched to the maple, while his owner chaffers with farmer Thoughtless about the onions.  The two friends close the bargain, and then sit long in pleasant confab about the prospect of the crops, the cattle market, and the construction of the new road to Boston.  But as there must be an end to all things, so there was to this interesting conversation; the moon had gone down, and the shadows of night covered the earth when Cleverman unhitched his impatient steed; and went clattering over the bridge.

From his chamber window, in the gray dawn of the next morning farmer Thoughtless saw the skinned and tattered rock maple poisoned by neighbor Cleverman's horse.

Moral:  If a man sets trees, hedges, gates and makes fine fences, he must expect to have them trampled down or torn up by his neighbor’s horses unless he accommodates the trees with armor and provides the horses with good substantial posts, with holes, rings or hooks, to tie the horses to."

In the 19th century, young street trees were commonly protected with what were known as "Tree Boxes."  At first, they looked exactly as you'd expect: a tall wooden box built around the slim tree trunk.  They were often tapered, with a base that was slightly larger than the top. As the century matured, more durable structures became available, manufactured with a steel mesh.  Although these were circular in shape, the term "tree box" continued for a while.

Today, we can easily protect our trees with tree bark protectors.  Affordable, lightweight, and of course... thoughtful.