The Heirloom Orchardist

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.

Protecting Fruit Trees from Winter Damage

Sunscald:

For a moment, think about those unseasonably warm January days when you can swear you smell Spring.  The air has a heavy, moist snow-melt fragrance.  The sun is low in the sky, casting long shadows, and warming dark colored objects…like tree trunks.

The fluids in the trunks of your fruit trees start to thaw, particularly on their south sides, and may even move about from cell to cell.  “This feels good” your trees say.  Then the sun sets, and the temperature drops precipitously.  Tree juices freeze, expand, and the cells walls crack.  Ouch.  The result is badly wounded tree trunks.  That’s Sunscald.

It’s sometimes called “Southwest Disease” because the damage frequently occurs on the south or southwest sides of the tree trunk.  There, the direct rays of the sun have been known to heat the bark tissue to over 120 degrees Fahrenheit.  And when there’s snow on the ground, the reflection of the sun can make the matter even worse.  When the sun drops below the horizon, the cells quickly drop their temperatures, and die.

There’s no easy cure, but with the right material, it’s easy to prevent.  Here’s one Heirloom Orchardist’s suggestion, taken from J.J. Thomas’s Rural Affairs (Vol. VI) of 1872:

“Protecting the Trunks of Fruit Trees
Orchardists are familiar with the disease that affects the bark on the bare trunks of fruit trees, particularly at the south and west, where there is so much hot sun at mid-day.  The Northwestern Farmer states that a fruit-grower has for several years protected his trees against the hot sun by adjusting a board to shield them from the two o'clock rays, with entire success - adding that since he has tried it, he has lost no more trees, the bark on that side remaining as smooth and as soft as on any other part of the tree."

Today, we have a much easier (and cheaper) method to protect our fruit trees from sunscald:  Tree Wrap (left).  It’s easy to apply in the fall, is removable in the spring, and can be used year after year.  The white color reflects the warming sun rays away from the tree.  I recommend this stuff.  Plan your preparation now, and wrap your trees before winter sets in.

You may also consider a Tree Guard.  This will provide some added protection from damage caused by deer, beaver, or mechanical devices.

Hungry mice and voles:

Another problem that’s easily avoided before winter sets in, is the damage caused by hungry mice and voles.  These little guys will eat the bark right off the base of your tree trunk, often girdling it.  Many amateur Orchardists don’t even find the damage until winter is over.  Then it’s time to plant a new tree, or to quickly learn how to set bridge grafts….not easy.

But prevention is easy.  The first step is to remove all vegetation in a radius of about four feet around the base of your tree trunk.  This is particularly good for control of voles.  They love the cover provided by loose vegetation.  Then, install a solid barrier.  Again, I provide a comment from J.J. Thomas’s Rural Affairs of 1872 (but I don’t really prescribe his advice):

"Mice Repellers:  Generally, a smooth, compact mound of mellow earth, free from grass, and made a foot high, late in autumn, is best.  But sometimes a roll of sheet-iron or sheet tin is most convenient.  Sheet tin is best, and will rust less than iron, unless the latter is well coated with gas tar.  Roofing tin, fourteen by twenty inches, will make to each sheet four protectors, seven inches high and three inches in diameter, costing about five cents each. They last many years.  They may be applied after some snow has fallen, with a little pressure and turning about."

Of course you could use roofing “tin” today.  You’ll find it at any home center (today it's made of aluminium, or zinc coated copper...not too economical).  But it's a lot easier, and more effective if you used pre-made Mouse Guards, manufactured for the purpose.

What's that saying?  Oh, yeah...A little prevention today goes a long way.

Spinklers, Water Pressure, and Dog Power

A few weeks ago, I posted some photos of my water sprinkler collection on The Heirloom Orchardist Facebook Fan page. I've been collecting old sprinklers for a while, even though they really have little to do with the agricultural practices of an Heirloom Orchardist.

Why would an 18th or 19th century farmer have little to do with water sprinklers?  Well, the answer is obvious, really.  Besides being luxury items (used by those who are concerned about the appearance of their lawns and flower beds) sprinklers require two things to work: First, the Heirloom Orchardist would need a large and reliable water supply.  And second (and this is the big one) he'd need water pressure.

In modern developed countries, it's easy to recognize how we take for granted the availability of fresh water.  But nearly all Heirloom Orchardists had access to some sort of water supply.  Heck, it's hard to live without one.  And some fortunate Heirloom Orchardists even had large and reliable water supplies.  But water pressure?  Well, that's a different story.

It's wonderful that many of us have modern plumbing systems to carry water right into our homes.  But what's just as wonderful, is that when we can turn a faucet, water comes spurting out all by itself!  Compare the convenience of water pressure to using a well-crane:

So, after posting those sprinkler pics on Facebook, I did a little research to determine how an Heirloom Orchardist would move water around for various domestic and agricultural uses.  The most obvious was to pump it with wind power.  But I stumbled upon this "Handy Farm Device" and chuckled.  I think you'll chuckle too.  It's from the the book entitled Handy Farm Devices and How to Make Them, by Rolfe Cobleigh, published in 1912:

"Dog Power For Pump: This sketch shows an arrangement for making use of the dog for carrying water.  It simply consists of a wheel 8 feet in diameter and 18 inches wide, with room enough inside for the dog to walk around, where he acts as a tread power, which causes the pump to revolve.  In southern California there are a number of these dog-power pumps, which cost less than $15.  A good size dog can easily earn his living in arrangement of this kind."

I know I can't, but could a hamster teach an old dog a new trick?

White Weed. Farmer's Curse.

Last week I mentioned how difficult, and costly, it was for the Heirloom Orchardist to keep his fields free of weeds.  How difficult was it?  Without the benefit of some indiscriminate herbicide, how invasive were those weeds?  Well, consider White Weed.  The following comes from the July 6, 1835 issue of Yankee Farmer:

"We see that some of our brethren are calling attention, thus early in the season, to this troublesome weed, and we would also join them, heart and hand in the clamor.  In some towns it has got a rank hold, to the exclusion of much better vegetables, for wherever it gets settled, it will in time kill out all other grass."

White Weed?  What's that?  F. Schuler Mathews, in his 1902 Field Book described it as "The commonest of all weeds of the field and wayside, often called Farmer's Curse, yet a prime favorite with children and artists!"  (Well, Mathews was an artist, so perhaps it's good to get his point of view.)  Farmer's Curse?  A favorite with artists? What is this stuff?

It's the Common Daisy. Good ol' Ox-Eye.  And today, it's hard for me to believe that it is such a bad invasive. Even Neltje Blanchan expressed a sympathetic  view on the plant in her book "Natures Garden":   "Myriads and myriads of daisies, whitening our fields as if a belated blizzard had covered them with a snowy mantle in June, fill the farmer with dismay, the flower-lover with rapture."

I think the 18th and 19th century Heirloom Orchardist would chuckle at Neltje, and break out his can of Round-up... if he could.  But he couldn't.  So he had to attack it with what we now call an organic, sustainable method.  Here's one suggestion, from the "Illustrated Annual Register of Rural affairs, for 1864":

"One of the most successful examples we have ever met with of the destruction of this weed is on the farm of Isaac Garrett, of Upper Darby, near Philadelphia.  This troublesome weed whitens the fields in profuse abundance in that region: but on this farm not a solitary weed could be found, after a diligent search.  The following is the mode for its extirpation:  Two successive crops of corn are raised on the ground, both well manured and thoroughly cultivated and hoed; this treatment removes nearly all the weeds.  The subsequent dense crop of clover smothers most of the remainder, and the few scattering ones left are pulled up by hand.  On another well managed farm in the neighborhood no daisies were to be seen where the land was heavily seeded to clover;  but where a strip had partially failed, numbers of them were visible."

The above doesn't seem to put enough emphasis on the "thoroughly cultivated and hoed" part of the process.  It would seem to me that it's pretty critical, no matter what you're planting.  But I find it interesting that the icing on the cake is to finish-up with a field "heavily seeded to clover."  Do you remember my Spring post on clover in my lawn?  Clover is good stuff.  In this case, I imagine it would help smother the last remaining traces of daisy seedlings, as well as replenish the nitrogen in a soil that's been depleted by "two successive crops of corn".  Today's organic  farmer/gardeners will find pleasure in this.  The Heirloom Orchardist didn't practice sustainable methods because they are good for the earth.  He did it 'cause he had to.  What other methods were there?

Why Some Heirloom Orchardists Get Rich at the Business (Others do not)

It's too easy for me to think that somehow, someway, life was more pleasant for the Heirloom Orchardist.  He was working the seasons, working the soil, sweating and livin' off the fat of the land.  Early to bed, early to rise, checking his livestock, his beehives, and always breathing the sweet smell of freshly cut hay.  He was livin' life; not working a job.  He was running a farm, not a business.  All that his family needed came from the farm.  What more could he want?!

Well, for starters, he may have wanted to live free of debt.  He may have wanted to retire without a mortgage.  Hmm...sound familiar?  The following comes from the Illustrated Annual Register of Rural Affairs for 1861.  It's a bit sobering for those of us (like me) who occasionally think the life of the Heirloom Orchardist didn't have the same financial burdens we have today:

"We know a farmer over sixty years old, who has worked hard for more than forty years.  He began with a good 150 acre farm given him, but subject to an encumbrance of about one-third its value.  This was a good start.  He is, after a lapse of forty years, still in debt.  He is temperate; had he not been, his farm would have gone long ago.  He has worked hard; had he not, he must have failed.  He has been economical; in its common meaning, or he never could have kept even with his creditors."

"What, then, has kept him back in the world?  We have figured up, and found that he has virtually sunk three good estates, by a want of management."

"First:  In wintering his cattle and sheep.  He kept, generally, about 20 cattle and 100 sheep.  The cattle trod about three tons of hay under foot each year, and consumed half a ton each extra by exposure to the winds, in all 13 tons, worth $91.  This exposure of cattle and calves reduced their size and market value one-third-annual increase, 6 head, and average value lost, $8 each-$48.  Ten per cent of his sheep and lambs were lost by want of shelter, and the clip was diminished 25 per-cent from the same cause - total loss on sheep, per annum, $50.  The whole yearly loss on cattle and sheep was, therefore, $189.  In forty years this annual loss, with compound interest, would amount to about $35,000.  Thus one fortune has been sunk."

"Secondly: In a want of good rotation of crops. He raised wheat after wheat, oats after oats, and corn after corn, because the stubble was most easily plowed, till his land was exhausted, and full of weeds.  The crops, as a whole, scarcely paid his labor.  A good rotation would have safely given him one-third more, which would have been a clear gain, on an average, of at least $5 an acre, on about 50 acres, yearly - total, $250 a year.  This loss repeated for 40 years, and interest, would amount to more than $50,000 !  This was the second fortune sunk."

"Third: In raising crops of weeds.  Some of his pasture fields had a heavier growth of mulleins, rag-weed, johnswort and thistle, than of grass; consequently, at least half his land was wasted to grow them.  On 50 acres of pasture, at least $2 each were yearly wasted, to say nothing of the loss of grain by the Canada thistle patches, in retarding growth and preventing clean harvesting, and his greatly diminished crop of corn by fox-tail and pig-weed.  The annual loss from weeds was, therefore, at least $100 - the amount of which, with interest, in 40 years would be $20,000. The third fortune."

"There are several other items of bad management that might be added, but these will do at present."

"If anyone doubts these estimates, let him examine carefully the amount raised by one of our best and thriftiest farmers, and from this amount deduct what is produced by a poor manager; then calculate compound interest, adding in the yearly loss, for 40 years, (the period of active business,) and he will probably find that on 150 arable acres, not merely the $110,000 have been virtually sunk, but a much larger sum.  If, however, the yearly loss should be much less, all we ask is that the reader may take that diminished amount and go carefully through the calculation, and he will doubtless perceive why some men get rich at the business and others do not."

Of course there were many Heirloom Orchardists who were more financially successful than others.  Payoff of that debt was quite possible.  But I like to remind myself that debt was the same burden then, as it is today.  And when you are partnered with Mother Nature to help produce your income, debt is a great burden.

First, 150 years ago it was costly (as now), to build new structures to house the livestock.  A new building for the cattle and sheep would have added to the farmer's debt.

Second, the treatment for depleted soil is not as simple as rotating the crops.  (Although admittedly, this farmer should have been doing it.  The benefits were well known at that time).  Farmers had to spread as much manure as their animals could create.  And often, the manure they had wasn't enough.  Corn is a voracious feeder.  There were no cheap synthetic fertilizers.  Guano was expensive.

Third, weed seeds are everywhere.  There were no herbicides, no fancy petroleum powered tillers.  All the Heirloom Orchardist had were his hoeing laborers (if he could afford them), or an ox pulling a shallow plow.

Livin' off the fat of the land.  Payin' that mortgage.

 

 

Leached Ashes For Manure (Fertilizer)

I love old farm and garden equipment.  Sure, I'll admit that when it accumulates it may tend to take up a lot of space.  And when that happens, it may look similar to a lotta junk.  But this is for sure: it'll always bring the following comment from my wife after I've "invested" in a new acquisition:  "NOW what the heck have you brought home THIS time?!"

 

"Why, this is my new Ash Sifter!" I proudly proclaimed.  "Your Ass-what?" she inquired incredulously.  "My Ass-Shifter!" I clarified.  "I mean...my Ash...oh, never mind."

Now we must ask:  What would an Heirloom Orchardist do with an Ash Sifter?  The simple answer is to separate the completely combusted wood (ashes) from the partially combusted wood (charcoal).  The charcoal would go back in the fire, and the ashes would be saved for other uses, such as making lye.  In some areas of the country, it was discovered that when worked into the soil, ashes improved crop production.  So it was sometimes used as a soil amendment.

However, such improvements to crop yield weren't perceived everywhere.  We find this account in the May 19, 1832 Genesee Farmer:

"A very general prejudice exists among our farmers against leached ashes as manure.  Vast bodies of them are suffered to go to waste, or lie idle, in every direction about the country.  I know by experience that they are an excellent manure.*  I have tried them on my garden and in field culture, and always with satisfactory results."  R .M. W., Middlesex

(*In the days of the Heirloom Orchardist, the word "manure" was used in the way we now use the word "fertilizer.")

According to my issue of the Genesee Farmer, there was quite a debate going on during the early 1800's on whether ashes had any benefit at all to growing crops.  And it's no wonder.  'Cause sometimes ashes helped, and sometimes they didn't.  Why is that?  It's because the beneficial affect that ashes may have on soil depends on the composition of the soil that was being farmed.  During the 18th century and much of the 19th century, soil chemistry was not well understood.

But this changed during the latter part of the 19th century.  Edward B. Voorhees explained it (in a way that this Heirloom Orchardist could understand) in his 1898 manual entitled "Fertilizers." There, he described two categories of fertilizers, "direct", and "indirect":

“DIRECT AND INDIRECT EFFECT OF MANURES:
It is obvious, therefore, that any substance which contains nitrogen, phosphoric acid or potash may serve as a direct manure, and any substance which contains no plant food, but which possesses the power of improving the physical character of soils, may also serve as a manure, though the one effect is quite distinct from the other.  The first adds to the soil the essential constituents; the other helps to make the constituents already in the soil serve as food to the plant.”

Well, I'm not really convinced that it is that obvious, but I'll take his word for it.  It turns out that wood ashes have both a direct and indirect affect on the soil.  Voorhees explains:

"Ashes are probably one of the best sources of potash that we have, so far as its form and combination are concerned, being in a very fine state of division, and in such a form as to be immediately available to plants.  Ashes also have a very favorable physical effect upon soils, the lime present, of course, aiding in this respect."

So, we can suspect that those 18th and 19th century Heirloom Orchardists that found wood ash to have an obvious beneficial affect on crop production, probably farmed in areas having soils naturally deficient in potash, thereby benefiting from the direct affect of wood ash.  Or, they were farming on acidic soil (like those I'm accustomed to here in New England), and benefited from the indirect "sweetening" affect of ash by raising the soil ph.  This, in turn, helps "to make the constituents already in the soil serve as food to the plant."

Well, hmmm.  Thanks, Professor Voorhees.  My ash thanks you too.

The Seven Simple Truths of the Heirloom Orchardist

The following is taken from the June 30, 1836 issue of the Yankee Farmer:

A writer in The Maine Farmer lays down seven simple truths, of which the farmer must be convinced, in order that the great subject of Agriculture may be fully understood and return its proper rewards to the laborer.  A passive assent to his propositions will do but little but the conviction must be after inquiry, investigation and experiment.

l.  In general, a small farm is better than a large one.
2.  A little land, well tilled, is better than much, half tilled.
3.  Two loads of manure are better than one, and every load judiciously applied worth a silver dollar.
4.  Three good cows are better than six poor ones, and so of all other stock.
5.  Raising their own bread stuff and a little to sell is better than “going to New York to mill.”
6.  Two blades of grass may be easily made to grow where only one grew before.
7.  Experiment is the mother of improvement and improvement is the true source of wealth.

This is the kind of stuff that I have to read sometimes.  Sure, it's rich in sentimentalism. But there's a lot of truth to it.  And whether you're an Heirloom Orchardist or not, such words of wisdom can be applied today as well as in 1836.  Ya gotta love it.

On Planting Fruit Trees, Part 2

Despite the value of a nice large “ten dollar hole” (see On Planting Fruit Trees, Part 1), there’s a catch: Don’t be tempted to set the tree too deeply. In 1835, Mr. C. Spencer, of Muskingum Co. Ohio presented this problem to The Ohio Farmer, and it was reprinted in the Yankee Farmer on April 27, 1835:

"Another error frequently committed, is in setting the tree too deep in the ground. The roots should always be placed within the upper soil. Some twenty years ago, two farmers in this neighborhood, who procured their trees from the same nursery, planted each an orchard in similar soil. The one set his trees with a hoe, placing them very shallow in the ground, the other, with his spade prepared a hole about fifteen inches deep, for the reception of his. The latter orchard made but little improvement for some three years, while the former proceeded immediately to thrive and grow. On examination it was found, that the roots of those which were planted deep, remained perfectly stationary in the cold clay, while a fresh set put forth from the body of the tree."

Mr. Spencer’s advice is even more critical today, 140 years later. Many of our fruit trees are actually a combination of two trees. That is, many commercially grown fruit trees are comprised of a scion or bud graft (of the fruit variety you want) grown upon a hardy rootstock of some other genetic source. When planting, it’s important to be sure the graft union is set above the soil surface. If you’re new to planting trees, you may want to try using a tree planting board:

This old easy-to-make tool was used by the Heirloom Orchardist to get his orchard trees lined up perfectly. But it also works as a guide to set each tree at the appropriate depth (perhaps Mr. Spencer used one?). Today’s Heirloom Orchardist is fortunate to have numerous durable tree support and protection tools at his/her disposal