CHAPTER XXII.
MANURE ON DAIRY-FARMS.
Farms devoted principally to dairying ought to be richer and more productive than farms largely devoted to the production of grain.
Nearly all the produce of the farm is used to feed the cows, and little is sold but milk, or cheese, or butter.
When butter alone is sold, there ought to be no loss of fertilizing matter--as pure butter or oil contains no nitrogen, phosphoric acid, or potash. It contains nothing but carbonaceous matter, which can be removed from the farm without detriment.
And even in the case of milk, or cheese, the advantage is all on the side of the dairyman, as compared with the grain-grower. A dollar’s worth of milk or cheese removes far less nitrogen, phosphoric acid, and potash, than a dollar’s worth of wheat or other grain. Five hundred lbs. of cheese contains about 25 lbs. of nitrogen, and 20 lbs. of mineral matter. A cow that would make this amount of cheese would eat not less than six tons of hay, or its equivalent in grass or grain, in a year. And this amount of food, supposing it to be half clover and half ordinary meadow-hay, would contain 240 lbs. of nitrogen and 810 lbs. of mineral matter. In other words, a cow eats 240 lbs. of nitrogen, and 25 lbs. are removed in the cheese, or not quite 10½ per cent, and of mineral matter not quite 2½ per cent is removed. If it takes three acres to produce this amount of food, there will be 8⅓ lbs. of nitrogen removed by the cheese, per acre, while 30 bushels of wheat would remove in the grain 32 lbs. of nitrogen, and 10 to 15 lbs. in the straw. So that a crop of wheat removes from five to six times as much nitrogen per acre as a crop of cheese; and the removal of mineral matter in cheese is quite insignificant as compared with the amount removed in a crop of wheat or corn. If our grain-growing farmers can keep up the fertility of their land, as they undoubtedly can, the dairymen ought to be making theirs richer and more productive every year.
“All that is quite true,” said the Doctor, “and yet from what I have seen and heard, the farms in the dairy districts, do not, as a rule, show any rapid improvement. In fact, we hear it often alleged that the soil is becoming exhausted of phosphates, and that the quantity and quality of the grass is deteriorating.”
“There may be some truth in this,” said I, “and yet I will hazard the prediction that in no other branch of agriculture shall we witness a more decided improvement during the next twenty-five years than on farms largely devoted to the dairy. Grain-growing farmers, like our friend the Deacon, here, who sells his grain and never brings home a load of manure, and rarely buys even a ton of bran to feed to stock, and who sells more or less hay, must certainly be impoverishing their soils of phosphates much more rapidly than the dairyman who consumes nearly all his produce on the farm, and sells little except milk, butter, cheese, young calves, and old cows.”
“Bones had a wonderful effect,” said the Doctor, “on the old pastures in the dairy district of Cheshire in England.”
“Undoubtedly,” I replied, “and so they will here, and so would well-rotted manure. There is nothing in this fact to prove that dairying specially robs the soil of phosphates. It is not phosphates that the dairyman needs so much as richer manure.”
“What would you add to the manure to make it richer?” asked the Doctor.
“Nitrogen, phosphoric acid, and potash,” I replied.
“But how?” asked the Deacon.
“I suppose,” said the Doctor, “by buying guano and the German potash salts.”
“That would be a good plan,” said I; “but I would do it by buying bran, mill-feed, brewer’s-grains, malt-combs, corn-meal, oil-cake, or whatever was best and cheapest in proportion to value. Bran or mill-feed can often be bought at a price at which it will pay to use it freely for manure. A few tons of bran worked into a pile of cow-dung would warm it up and add considerably to its value. It would supply the nitrogen, phosphoric acid, and potash, in which ordinary manure is deficient. In short, it would convert poor manure into rich manure.”
“Well, well,” exclaimed the Deacon, “I knew you talked of mixing dried-blood and bone-dust with your manure, but I did not think you would advocate anything quite so extravagant as taking good, wholesome bran and spout-feed and throwing it on to your manure-pile.”
“Why, Deacon,” said I, “we do it every day. I am putting about a ton of spout-feed, malt-combs and corn-meal each week into my manure-pile, and that is the reason why it ferments so readily even in the winter. It converts my poor manure into good, rich, well-decomposed dung, one load of which is worth three loads of your long, strawy manure.”
“Do you not wet it and let it ferment before putting it in the pile?”
“No, Deacon,” said I, “I feed the bran, malt-combs and corn-meal to the cows, pigs, and sheep, and let them do the mixing. They work it up fine, moisten it, break up the particles, take out the carbonaceous matter, which we do not need for manure, and the cows and sheep and horses mix it up thoroughly with the hay, straw, and corn-stalks, leaving the whole in just the right condition to put into a pile to ferment or to apply directly to the land.”
“Oh! I see,” said the Deacon, “I did not think you used bran for manure.”
“Yes, I do, Deacon,” said I, “but I use it for food _first_, and this is precisely what I would urge you and all others to do. I feel sure that our dairymen can well afford to buy more mill-feed, corn-meal, oil-cake, etc., and mix it with their cow-dung--or rather, let the cows do the mixing.”
LETTER FROM THE HON. HARRIS LEWIS.
I wrote to the Hon. Harris Lewis, the well-known dairyman of Herkimer Co., N.Y., asking him some questions in regard to making and managing manure on dairy farms. The questions will be understood from the answers. He writes as follows:
“My Friend Harris.--This being the first leisure time I have had since the receipt of your last letter, I devote it to answering your questions:
“1st. I have no manure cellar.
“I bed my cows with dry basswood sawdust, saving all the liquid manure, keeping the cows clean, and the stable odors down to a tolerable degree. This bedding breaks up the tenacity of the cow-manure, rendering it as easy to pulverize and manage as clear horse-manure. I would say it is just lovely to bed cows with dry basswood sawdust. This manure, if left in a large pile, will ferment and burn like horse-manure in about 10 days. Hence I draw it out as made where I desire to use it, leaving it in small heaps, convenient to spread.
“My pigs and calves are bedded with straw, and this is piled and rotted before using.
“I use most of my manure on grass land, and mangels, some on corn and potatoes; but it pays me best, when in proper condition, to apply all I do not need for mangels, on meadow and pasture.
“Forty loads, or about 18 to 20 cords is a homœopathic dose for an acre, and this quantity, or more, applied once in three years to grass land, agrees with it first rate.
“The land where I grow mangels gets about this dose every year.
“I would say that my up-land meadows have been mown twice each year for a great many years.
“I have been using refuse salt from Syracuse, on my mangels, at the rate of about six bushels per acre, applied broadcast in two applications. My hen-manure is pulverized, and sifted through a common coal sieve. The fine I use for dusting the mangels after they have been singled out, and the lumps, if any, are used to warm up the red peppers.
“I have sometimes mixed my hen-manure with dry muck, in the proportion of one bushel of hen-manure to 10 of muck, and received a profit from it too big to tell of, on corn, and on mangels.
“I have sprinkled the refuse salt on my cow-stable floors sometimes, but where all the liquid is saved, I think we have salt enough for most crops.
“I have abandoned the use of plaster on my pastures for the reason that milk produced on green-clover is not so good as that produced on the grasses proper. I use all the wood ashes I can get, on my mangels as a duster, and consider their value greater than the burners do who sell them to me for 15 cts. a bushel. I have never used much lime, and have not received the expected benefits from its use so far. But wood ashes agree with my land as well as manure does. The last question you ask, but one, is this: ‘What is the usual plan of managing manure in the dairy districts?’ The usual method is to cut holes in the sides of the stable, about every ten feet along the whole length of the barn behind the cows, and pitch the manure out through these holes, under the eaves of the barn, where it remains until too much in the way, when it is drawn out and commonly applied to grass land in lumps as big as your head. This practice is getting out of fashion a little now, but nearly one-half of all the cow-manure made in Herkimer Co. is lost, wasted.
“Your last question, ‘What improvement would you suggest,’ I answer by saying it is of no use to make any to these men, it would be wasted like their manure.
“The market value of manure in this county is 50 cts. per big load, or about one dollar per cord.”
“That is a capital letter,” said the Deacon. “It is right to the point, and no nonsense about it.”
“He must make a good deal of manure,” said the Doctor, “to be able to use 40 loads to the acre on his meadows and pastures once in three years, and the same quantity every year on his field of mangel-wurzel.”
“That is precisely what I have been contending for,” I replied; “the dairymen _can_ make large quantities of manure if they make an effort to do it, and their farms ought to be constantly improving. Two crops of hay on the same meadow, each year, will enable a farmer to keep a large herd of cows, and make a great quantity of manure--and when you have once got the manure, there is no difficulty in keeping up and increasing the productiveness of the land.”
HOW TO MAKE MORE AND BETTER MANURE ON DAIRY FARMS.
“You are right,” said the Doctor, “in saying that there is no difficulty in keeping up and increasing the productiveness of our dairy farms, when you have once got plenty of manure--but the difficulty is to get a good supply of manure to start with.”
This is true, and it is comparatively slow work to bring up a farm, unless you have plenty of capital and can buy all the artificial manure you want. By the free use of artificial manures, you could make a farm very productive in one or two years. But the slower and cheaper method will be the one adopted by most of our young and intelligent dairymen. Few of us are born with silver spoons in our mouths. We have to earn our money before we can spend it, and we are none the worse for the discipline.
Suppose a young man has a farm of 100 acres, devoted principally to dairying. Some of the land lies on a creek or river, while other portions are higher and drier. In the spring of the year, a stream of water runs through a part of the farm from the adjoining hills down to the creek or river. The farm now supports ten head of cows, three horses, half a dozen sheep, and a few pigs. The land is worth $75 per acre, but does not pay the interest on half that sum. It is getting worse instead of better. Weeds are multiplying, and the more valuable grasses are dying out. What is to be done?
In the first place, let it be distinctly understood that the land is _not_ exhausted. As I have before said, the productiveness of a farm does not depend so much on the absolute amount of plant-food which the soil contains, as on the amount of plant-food which is immediately available for the use of the plants. An acre of land that produces half a ton of hay, may contain as much plant-food as an acre that produces three tons of hay. In the one case the plant-food is locked up in such a form that the crops cannot absorb it, while in the other it is in an available condition. I have no doubt there are fields on the farm I am alluding to, that contain 3,000 lbs. of nitrogen, and an equal amount of phosphoric acid, per acre, in the first six inches of the surface soil. This is as much nitrogen as is contained in 100 tons of meadow-hay, and more phosphoric acid than is contained in 350 tons of meadow-hay. These are the two ingredients on which the fertility of our farms mainly depend. And yet there are soils containing this quantity of plant-food that do not produce more than half a ton of hay per acre.
In some fields, or parts of fields, the land is wet and the plants cannot take up the food, even while an abundance of it is within reach. The remedy in this case is under-draining. On other fields, the plant-food is locked up in insoluble combinations. In this case we must plow up the soil, pulverize it, and expose it to the oxygen of the atmosphere. We must treat the soil as my mother used to tell me to treat my coffee, when I complained that it was not sweet enough. “I put plenty of sugar in,” she said, “and if you will stir it up, the coffee will be sweeter.” The sugar lay undissolved at the bottom of the cup; and so it is with many of our soils. There is plenty of plant-food in them, but it needs stirring up. They contain, it may be, 3,000 lbs. of nitrogen, and other plant-food in still greater proportion, and we are only getting a crop that contains 18 lbs. of nitrogen a year, and of this probably the rain supplies 9 lbs. Let us stir up the soil and see if we cannot set 100 lbs. of this 3,000 lbs. of nitrogen free, and get three tons of hay per acre instead of half a ton. There are men who own a large amount of valuable property in vacant city lots, who do not get enough from them to pay their taxes. If they would sell half of them, and put buildings on the other half, they might soon have a handsome income. And so it is with many farmers. They have the elements of 100 tons of hay lying dormant in every acre of their land, while they are content to receive half a ton a year. They have property enough, but it is unproductive, while they pay high taxes for the privilege of holding it, and high wages for the pleasure of boarding two or three hired men.
We have, say, 3,000 lbs. of nitrogen locked up in each acre of our soil, and we get 8 or 10 lbs. every year in rain and dew, and yet, practically, all that we want, to make our farms highly productive, is 100 lbs. of nitrogen per acre per annum. And furthermore, it should be remembered, that to keep our farms rich, after we have once got them rich, it is not necessary to develope this amount of nitrogen from the soil every year. In the case of clover-hay, the entire loss of nitrogen in the animal and in the milk would not exceed 15 per cent, so that, when we feed out 100 lbs. of nitrogen, we have 85 lbs. left in the manure. We want to develope 100 lbs. of nitrogen in the soil, to enable us to raise a good crop to start with, and when this is once done, an annual development of 15 lbs. per acre in addition to the manure, would keep up the productiveness of the soil. Is it not worth while, therefore, to make an earnest effort to get started?--to get 100 lbs. of nitrogen in the most available condition in the soil?
As I said before, this is practically all that is needed to give us large crops. This amount of nitrogen represents about twelve tons of average barn-yard manure--that is to say, twelve tons contains 100 lbs. of nitrogen. But in point of fact it is not in an immediately available condition. It would probably take at least two years before all the nitrogen it contains would be given up to the plants. We want, therefore, in order to give us a good start, 24 tons of barn-yard manure on every acre of land. How to get this is the great problem which our young dairy farmer has to solve. In the grain-growing districts we get it in part by summer-fallowing, and I believe the dairyman might often do the same thing with advantage. A thorough summer-fallow would not only clean the land, but would render some of the latent plant-food available. This will be organized in the next crop, and when the dairyman has once got the plant-food, he has decidedly the advantage over the grain-growing farmer in his ability to retain it. He need not lose over 16 per cent a year of nitrogen, and not one per cent _of the other elements of plant-food_.
The land lying on the borders of the creek could be greatly benefited by cutting surface ditches to let off the water; and later, probably it will be found that a few underdrains can be put in to advantage. These alluvial soils on the borders of creeks and rivers are grand sources of nitrogen and other plant-food. I do not know the fact, but it is quite probable that the meadows which Harris Lewis mows twice a year, are on the banks of the river, and are perhaps flooded in the spring. But, be this as it may, there is a field on the farm I am alluding to, lying on the creek, which now produces a bountiful growth of weeds, rushes, and coarse grasses, which I am sure could easily be made to produce great crops of hay. The creek overflows in the spring, and the water lies on some of the lower parts of the field until it is evaporated. A few ditches would allow all the water to pass off, and this alone would be a great improvement. If the field was flooded in May or June, and thoroughly cultivated and harrowed, the sod would be sufficiently rotted to plow again in August. Then a thorough harrowing, rolling, and cultivating, would make it as mellow as a garden, and it could be seeded down with timothy and other good grasses the last of August, or beginning of September, and produce a good crop of hay the next year. Or, if thought better, it might be sown to rye and seeded down with it. In either case the land would be greatly improved, and would be a productive meadow or pasture for years to come--or until our young dairyman could afford to give it one of Harris Lewis’ “homœopathic” doses of 40 loads of good manure per acre. He would then be able to cut two crops of hay a year--and such hay! But we are anticipating.
That stream which runs through the farm in the spring, and then dries up, could be made to irrigate several acres of the land adjoining. This would double, or treble, or quadruple, (“hold on,” said the Deacon,) the crops of grass as far as the water reached. The Deacon does not seem to credit this statement; but I have seen wonderful effects produced by such a plan.
What I am endeavoring to show, is, that these and similar means will give us larger crops of hay and grass, and these in turn will enable us to keep more cows, and make more manure, and the manure will enable us to grow larger crops on other portions of the farm.
I am aware that many will object to plowing up old grass land, and I do not wish to be misunderstood on this point. If a farmer has a meadow that will produce two or three tons of hay, or support a cow, to the acre, it would be folly to break it up. It is already doing all, or nearly all, that can be asked or desired. But suppose you have a piece of naturally good land that does not produce a ton of hay per acre, or pasture a cow on three acres, if such land can be plowed without great difficulty, I would break it up as early in the fall as possible, and summer-fallow it thoroughly, and seed it down again, heavily, with grass seeds the next August. If the land does not need draining, it will not forget this treatment for many years, and it will be the farmer’s own fault if it ever runs down again.
In this country, where wages are so high, we must raise large crops per acre, or not raise any. Where land is cheap, it may sometimes pay to compel a cow to travel over three or four acres to get her food, but we cannot afford to raise our hay in half ton crops; it costs too much to harvest them. High wages, high taxes, and high-priced land, necessitate high farming; and by high farming, I mean growing large crops every year, and on every portion of the farm; but high wages and _low-priced land_ do not necessarily demand high farming. If the land is cheap we can suffer it to lie idle without much loss. But when we _raise_ crops, whether on high-priced land or on low-priced land, we must raise good crops, or the expense of cultivating and harvesting them will eat up all the profits. In the dairy districts, I believe land, in proportion to its quality and nearness to market, commands a higher price than land in the grain-growing districts. Hence it follows that high farming should be the aim of the American dairyman.
I am told that there are farms in the dairy districts of this State worth from one hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars per acre, on which a cow to four acres for the year is considered a good average. At a meeting of the Little Falls Farmers’ Club, the Hon. Josiah Shull, gave a statement of the receipts and expenses of his farm of 81½ acres. The farm cost $130 per acre. He kept twenty cows, and fatted one for beef. The receipts were as follows:
Twenty cows yielding 8,337 lbs. of cheese, at about 14¼ cents per pound $1,186.33 Increase on beef cow 40.00 Calves 45.00 --------- Total receipts $1,271.33 Expenses. Boy, six months and board $180.00 Man by the year, and board 360.00 Carting milk and manufacturing cheese 215.00 ------- Total cost of labor $755.00 The Other Expenses Were: Fertilizers, plants, etc. $ 18.00 Horse-shoeing and other repairs of farming implements, (which is certainly pretty cheap,) 50.00 Wear and tear of implements 65.00 Average repairs of place and buildings 175.00 Average depreciation and interest on stock 180.00 Insurance 4.00 Incidentals, (also pretty low,) 50.00 ------- $620.00 Total receipts $1,271.33. Total expenses 1,375.00.
This statement, it is said, the Club considered a very fair estimate.
Now, here is a farm costing $10,595, the receipts from which, saying nothing about interest, are less than the expenses. And if you add two cents per pound more to the price of the cheese, the profit would still be only about $50 per year. The trouble is not so much in the low price of cheese, _as in the low product per acre_. I know some grain-growing farmers who have done no better than this for a few years past.
Mr. Shull places the annual depreciation and interest on stock at $180, equal to nearly one-seventh of the total receipts of the farm. It would pay the wages and board of another man for six months. Can not it be avoided? Good beef is relatively much higher in this State than good cheese. Some of the dairy authorities tell us that cheese is the cheapest animal food in the world, while beef is the dearest. Why, then, should our dairymen confine their attention to the production of the cheapest of farm products, and neglect almost entirely the production of the dearest? If beef is high and cheese low, why not raise more beef? On low-priced land it may be profitable to raise and keep cows solely for the production of cheese, and when the cows are no longer profitable for this purpose, to sacrifice them--to throw them aside as we do a worn-out machine. And in similar circumstances we may be able to keep sheep solely for their wool, but on high-priced land we can not afford to keep sheep merely for their wool. We must adopt a higher system of farming and feeding, and keep sheep that will give us wool, lambs, and mutton. In parts of South America, where land costs nothing, cattle can be kept for their bones, tallow, and hides, but where food is costly we must make better use of it. A cow is a machine for converting vegetable food into veal, butter, cheese, and beef. The first cost of the machine, if a good one, is considerable--say $100. This machine has to be kept running night and day, summer and winter, week days and Sundays. If we were running a steam-flouring mill that could never be allowed to stop, we should be careful to lay in a good supply of coal and also have plenty of grain on hand to grind, so that the mill would never have to run empty. No sensible man would keep up steam merely to run the mill. He would want to grind all the time, and as much as possible; and yet coal is a much cheaper source of power than the hay and corn with which we run our milk-producing machine. How often is the latter allowed to run empty? The machine is running night and day--must run, but is it always running to advantage? Do we furnish fuel enough to enable it to do full work, or only little more than enough to run the machinery?
“What has all this to do with making manure on dairy farms?” asked the Deacon; “you are wandering from the point.”
“I hope not; I am trying to show that good feeding will pay better than poor feeding--and better food means better manure.”
I estimate that it takes from 15 to 18 lbs. of ordinary hay per day to run this cow-machine, which we have been talking about, even when kept warm and comfortable; and if exposed to cold storms, probably not less than 20 lbs. of hay a day, or its equivalent, and this merely to keep the machine running, without doing any work. It requires this to keep the cow alive, and to prevent her losing flesh. If not supplied with the requisite amount of food for this purpose, she will take enough fat and flesh from her own body to make up the deficiency; and if she cannot get it, the machine will stop--in other words, the cow will die.
We have, then, a machine that costs say $100; that will last on an average eight years; that requires careful management; that must have constant watching, or it will be liable to get out of order, and that requires, merely to keep it running, say 20 lbs. of hay per day. Now, what do we get in return? If we furnish only 20 lbs. of hay per day we get--_nothing_ except manure. If we furnish 25 lbs. of hay per day, or its equivalent, we get, say half a pound of cheese per day. If we furnish 30 lbs. we get one pound of cheese per day, or 365 lbs. a year. We may not get the one pound of cheese every day in the year; sometimes the cow, instead of giving milk, is furnishing food for her embryo calf, or storing up fat and flesh; and this fat and flesh will be used by and by to produce milk. But it all comes from the food eaten by the cow; and is equal to one pound of cheese per day for 30 lbs. of hay or its equivalent consumed; 20 lbs. of hay gives us nothing; 25 lbs. of hay gives us half a pound of cheese, or 40 lbs. of cheese from one ton of hay; 30 lbs. gives us one pound, or 66⅔ lbs. of cheese from one ton of hay; 35 lbs. gives us 1½ lbs., or 85 5/7 lbs. of cheese to one ton of hay; 40 lbs. gives us 2 lbs. of cheese, or 100 lbs. of cheese from one ton of hay; 45 lbs. gives us 2⅓ lbs. of cheese, or 111 lbs. of cheese from one ton of hay; 50 lbs. gives us 3 lbs. of cheese, or 120 lbs. of cheese from one ton of hay.
On this basis, one ton of hay, _in excess of the amount required to keep up the animal heat and sustain the vital functions_, gives us 200 lbs. of cheese. The point I wish to illustrate by these figures, which are of course hypothetical, is, that it is exceedingly desirable to get animals that will eat, digest, and assimilate a large amount of food, over and above that required to keep up the heat of the body and sustain the vital functions. When a cow eats only 25 lbs. of hay a day, it requires one ton of hay to produce 40 lbs. of cheese. But if we could induce her to eat, digest, and assimilate 50 lbs. a day, one ton would produce 120 lbs. of cheese. If a cow eats 33 lbs. of hay per day, or its equivalent in grass, it will require four acres of land, with a productive capacity equal to 1½ tons of hay per acre, to keep her a year. Such a cow, according to the figures given above, will produce 401½ lbs. of cheese a year, or its equivalent in growth. A farm of 80 acres, on this basis, would support 20 cows, yielding, say 8,000 lbs. of cheese. Increase the productive power of the farm one half, (I hope the Deacon has not gone to sleep), and keep 20 cows that will eat half as much again food, and we should then get 21,600 lbs. of cheese. If cheese is worth 15 cents per lb., a farm of 80 acres, producing 1½ tons of hay, or its equivalent, per acre, and supporting 20 cows, would give us a gross return of $1,204.50. The same farm so improved as to produce 2¼ tons of hay or its equivalent, per acre--fed to 20 cows _capable of eating, digesting, and assimilating it_--would give a gross return of $3,240.
In presenting these figures, I hope you will not think me a visionary. I do not think it is possible to get a cow to produce 3 lbs. of cheese a day throughout the whole year. But I do think it quite possible to so breed and feed a cow that she will produce 3 lbs. of cheese per day, _or its equivalent_ in veal, flesh, or fat. We frequently have cows that produce 3 lbs. of cheese a day for several weeks; and a cow _can_ be so fed that she will produce 3 lbs. of cheese a day without losing weight. And if she can extract this amount of matter out of the food for a part of the year, why can not she do so for the whole year? Are the powers of digestion weaker in the fall and winter than in spring and summer? If not, we unquestionably sustain great loss by allowing this digestive power to run to waste. This digestive power costs us 20 lbs. of hay a day. We can ill afford to let it lie dormant. But the Deacon will tell me that the cows are allowed all the food they will eat, winter and summer. Then we must, if they have digestive power to spare, endeavor to persuade them to eat more. If they eat as much hay or grass as their stomachs are capable of holding, we must endeavor to give them richer hay or grass. Not one farmer in a thousand seems to appreciate the advantage of having hay or grass containing a high percentage of nutriment. I have endeavored to show that a cow eating six tons of hay, or its equivalent, in a year, would produce 400 lbs. of cheese, worth $60. While a cow capable of eating, digesting, and turning to good account, nine tons of hay, or its equivalent, would produce 1,090 lbs. of cheese, or its equivalent in other products, worth $162.
“I am sorry to interrupt the gentleman,” said the Deacon with mock gravity.
“Then pray don’t,” said I; “I will not detain you long, and the subject is one which ought to interest you and every other farmer who keeps his cows on poor grass in summer, and corn-stalks and straw in winter.”
I was going to say, when the Deacon interrupted me, that the stomach of a cow may not allow her to eat nine tons of hay a year, but it will allow her to eat six tons; and if these six tons contain as much nutriment as the nine tons, what is the real difference in its value? Ordinarily we should probably estimate the one at $10 per ton, and the other at $15. But according to the above figures, one is worth $10 per ton and the other $27. To get rich grass, therefore, should be the aim of the American dairyman. I hope the Deacon begins to see what connection this has with a large pile of rich manure.
I do not mean merely a heavy growth of grass, but grass containing a high percentage of nutriment. Our long winters and heavy snows are a great advantage to us in this respect. Our grass in the spring, after its long rest, ought to start up like asparagus, and, under the organizing influence of our clear skies, and powerful sun, ought to be exceedingly nutritious. Comparatively few farmers, however, live up to their privileges in this respect. Our climate is better than our farming, the sun richer than our neglected soil. England may be able to produce more grass per acre in a year than we can, but we ought to produce richer grass, and, consequently, more cheese to a cow. And I believe, in fact, that such is often the case. The English dairyman has the advantage of a longer season of growth. We have a shorter season but a brighter sun, and if we do not have richer grass it is due to the want of draining, clean culture, and manuring. The object of American dairymen should be, not only to obtain more grass per acre, but to increase its nutriment in a given bulk. If we could increase it one-half, making six tons equal to nine tons, we have shown that it is nearly three times as valuable. Whether this can be done, I have not now time to consider; but at any rate if your land produces as many weeds as do some fields on my farm, not to say the Deacon’s, and if the plant-food that these weeds absorb, could be organized by nutritious grasses, this alone would do a good deal towards accomplishing the object. Whether this can be done or not, we want cows that can eat and turn to good account as much food per annum as is contained in nine tons of ordinary meadow-hay; and we want this nutriment in a bulk not exceeding six tons of hay. _If possible_, we should get this amount of nutriment in grass or hay. But if we can not do this, we must _feed enough concentrated food_ to bring it up to the desired standard.
“But will it pay?” asked the Deacon; “I have not much faith in buying feed. A farmer ought to raise everything he feeds out.”
“As a rule, this may be true,” I replied, “but there are many exceptions. I am trying to show that it will often pay a dairyman well to buy feed rich in nitrogen and phosphates, so as to make rich manure, and give him a start. After he gets his land rich, there is little difficulty in keeping up its productiveness.
“Now, I have said--and the figures, if anything, are too low--that if a cow, eating six tons of hay, or its equivalent, a year, produces 400 lbs. of cheese, a cow capable of eating, digesting, and turning to good account nine tons of hay, or its equivalent, a year, would produce 1,090 lbs. of cheese, or its equivalent in other products.”
I would like to say much more on this subject, but I hope enough has been said to show that there is great advantage in feeding rich food, even so far as the production of milk or beef is concerned; and if this is the case, then there is no difficulty in making rich manure on a dairy farm.
And I am delighted to know that many farmers in the dairy districts are purchasing more and more bran and meal every year. Taking milk, and beef, and manure all into the account, I feel sure that it will be found highly profitable; but you must have good cows--cows that can turn their extra food to good account.
This is not the place to discuss the merits of the different breeds of cows. All I wish to show is, that to make better manure, we must use richer food; and to feed this to advantage, we must have animals that can turn a large amount of food, over and above the amount required to sustain the vital functions, into milk, flesh, etc.
“You do not think,” said the Deacon, “that a well-bred cow makes any richer manure than a common cow?”
Of course not; but to make rich manure, we must feed well; and we can not afford to feed well unless we have good animals.
HOW TO SAVE AND APPLY MANURE ON A DAIRY-FARM.
We can not go into details on this subject. The truth is, there are several good methods of saving manure, and which is best depends entirely on circumstances. The real point is to save the urine, and keep the cow-stable clean and sweet. There are three prominent methods adopted:
1st. To throw all the liquid and solid excrements into a manure-cellar underneath the cow-stable. In this cellar, dry swamp-muck, dry earth, or other absorbent material, is mixed with the manure in sufficient quantity to keep down offensive odors. A little dry earth or muck is also used in the stable, scattering it twice a day in the gutters and under the hind legs of the cows. Where this is carried out, it has many and decided advantages.
2d. To wheel or throw out the solid parts of the manure, and to have a drain for carrying the liquid into a tank, where it can be pumped on to the heap of manure in the yard. Where many horses or sheep are kept, and only a few cows, this plan can often be used to advantage, as the heap of manure in the yard, consisting of horse-manure, sheep-manure, and a small portion of cow-dung, will be able to absorb all the urine of the cows.
3d. To use sufficient bedding to absorb all the urine in the stable. In my own case, as I have said before, we usually chaff all our straw and stalks. The orts are used for bedding, and we also use a little dry earth--or, to be more exact, I use it when I attend to the matter myself, but have always found more or less trouble in getting the work done properly, unless I give it personal attention. To use “dirt” to keep the stable clean, is not a popular plan in this neighborhood. Where there is an abundance of straw, and especially if cut into chaff, the easiest way to keep the stable clean, and the cows comfortable, is to use enough of this chaffed straw to absorb all the liquid. Clean out the stable twice a day, and wheel the manure directly to the heap, and spread it.
In regard to the application of manure on a dairy-farm, we have seen what Harris Lewis does with his. I also wrote to T. L. Harison, Esq., of St. Lawrence Co., N.Y.; and knowing that he is not only a very intelligent farmer and breeder, but also one of our best agricultural writers, I asked him if he had written anything on the subject of manures.
“St. Lawrence Co.,” said the Deacon, “produces capital grass, oats, and barley, but is, I should think, too far north for winter wheat; but what did Mr Harison say?”--Here is his letter:
“I never wrote anything about manure. Catch me at it! Nor do I know anything about the management of barn-yard manure worth telling. My own practice is dictated quite as much by convenience as by considerations of economy.”
“Good,” said the Deacon; “he writes like a sensible man.”
“My rotation,” he continues, “is such that the bulk of the manure made is applied to _one crop_; that is, to my hoed crops, corn, potatoes, and roots, in the second year.
“The manure from the stables is thrown or wheeled out under the sheds adjoining, and as fast as it becomes so large a quantity as to be in the way, or whenever there is an opportunity, it is hauled out to the field, where it is to be used, and put in large piles. It is turned once, if possible, in the spring, and then spread.
“The quantity applied, is, as near as may be, 25 loads per acre; but as we use a great deal of straw, we haul out 30 loads, and estimate that in the spring it will be about 25 loads.
“If we have any more (and occasionally we have 100 loads over), we pile it near the barn, and turn it once or twice during the summer, and use it as seems most profitable--sometimes to top-dress an old grass-field, that for some reason we prefer not to break for another year. Sometimes it goes on a piece of fall wheat, and sometimes is kept over for a barley field the following spring, and harrowed in just before sowing.
“I should spread the manure as it comes from the sheds, instead of piling it, but the great quantity of snow we usually have, has always seemed to be an insuperable obstacle. It is an advantage to pile it, and to give it one turning, but, on the other hand, the piles made in cold weather freeze through, and they take a provokingly long time to thaw out in the spring. I never found manure _piled_ out of doors to get too much water from rain.
“I have given up using gypsum, except a little in the stables, because the clover grows too strong without it, and so long as this is the case, I do not need gypsum. But I sometimes have a piece of oats or barley that stands still, and looks sick, and a dose of gypsum helps it very much.”
“That is a fact worth remembering,” said the Deacon.
“I use some superphosphate,” continues Mr. Harison, “and some ground bones on my turnips. We also use superphosphate on oats, barley, and wheat (about 200 lbs. per acre), and find it pays. Last year, our estimate was, on 10 acres of oats, comparing with a strip in the middle, left for the purpose, that the 200 lbs. of superphosphate increased the crop 15 bushels per acre, and gave a gain in quality. It was the “Manhattan,” which has about three per cent ammonia, and seven to eight per cent soluble phosphoric acid.
“My rotation, which I stick to as close as I can, is: 1, oats; 2, corn, and potatoes, and roots; 3, barley or spring wheat; 4, 5, and 6, grass (clover or timothy, with a little mixture occasionally).
“I am trying to get to 4, fall wheat, but it is mighty risky.”
“That is a very sensible letter,” said the Deacon; “but it is evident that he raises more grain than I supposed was generally the case in the dairy districts; and the fact that his clover is so heavy that he does not need plaster, indicates that his land is rich.”
It merely confirms what I have said all along, and that is, that the dairymen, if they will feed their animals liberally, and cultivate their soil thoroughly, can soon have productive farms. There are very few of us in this section who can make manure enough to give all our corn, potatoes, and roots, 25 loads of rotted manure per acre, and have some to spare.
In the spring of 1877, Mr. Harison wrote: “I have been hauling out manure all winter as fast as made, and putting it on the land. At first we spread it; but when deep snows came, we put it in small heaps. The field looks as if there had been a grain crop on it left uncut.”
“That last remark,” said the Doctor, “indicates that the manure looks more like straw than well-rotted dung, and is an argument in favor of your plan of piling the manure in the yard or field, instead of spreading it on the land, or putting it in small heaps.”