Letter From Birdland--Time to Prune

In Birdland we finally got some sun, and they've harvested corn in the west end of the farm. The time change brings on an early evening, but it's been warm and sunny in the afternoons and I spend as much time outside as I can. I put the plastic up on the aviary all by myself, and it looks surprisingly neat and almost free of wrinkles. Usually Ellis helps, but my youngest is still away on his sailing trip. The colored lights warm it and give it a festive air. I love the Chinese-lantern look of the wintertime aviary. At night it glows magically. Most of the leaves have fallen from the trees, and I have been using them for bedding in the nesting boxes. I filled the floor of the aviary with a deep mulch of about six inches for the new tenants: 8 chicks hatched by Mrs. Baker's class. She told me they are Colombians and Rhode Island Reds. They are fast growing little things, and arrived with colorful dots of dye on their heads to differentiate them for the growth data. This project seems to be very scientific, and Mrs. Baker told me their average size--15 cm and 200 grams. They are active and their bedding is already worked over, but the yard has enough leaves to keep that mulch deep for the whole winter, if only I have time to rake them all up. Harvey Ussery writes in Backyard Poultry Magazine and his website about using chickens to process compost in a deep litter. The biological activity in the mulch keeps it warm enough, even in winter, so that maybe some insects survive. The chickens’ constant digging in the litter of leaves, looking for tasty treats of bugs, worms, and kitchen scraps mixes it nicely for optimal composting. My plan is to house the chicks in the aviary until they’re grown, adding more mulch as needed. In the spring, I should be able to rake out some lovely compost.

Ancient apple trees surround the aviary. When Dylan was a baby, apples were abundant, and we harvested from the largest tree apples bigger than his head. Half a dozen would make 2 or 3 pies. A dozen peeled and quartered in the crock pot would cook down into a lovely apple butter. Another dozen cored and sliced thin would dry in the sun. I had to cut out worms, but we had enough good apples to share with the coddling moths; or so I thought. The problem was, I didn’t really know anything about pruning or pest control, and had developed a slight phobia. Occasionally I would pull out a pruning saw, but didn’t really know the difference between a healthy trim and cuts that make the tree more open to disease. I didn’t know when pruning would have the desired effect, and when it would cause growth problems. Every time I approached the trees for any kind of maintenance, I would talk myself out of it after a few minutes. I didn’t want to use pesticides, so just ignored the pests, tossing the yucky parts to the grateful chickens. After 20 years of neglect, we had no apples worth eating. I couldn’t even gather enough from three trees for one pie. Luckily, my friend, Susan told me that her husband likes to prune fruit trees. I was a bit nervous about letting him see the poor, neglected apples. Would he turn me in to the Arbor Foundation? But he graciously kept a straight face as he pulled saws and clippers out of the trunk of his car. At first I only watched as he began cutting away at the deadwood on the Jonathan. I brought him a ladder and carried away the branches as he cut them. Eventually I plucked up some courage and asked him if I could be more useful. He persuaded me to grab a saw, and soon, I was also cutting away the deadwood on the next tree, the one the kids like to sit in when they come over. It is a noble, old, spreading tree, whose limbs gracefully dip low to the ground over the pasture. By asking questions and watching as Brian made decisions about which branches to cut, which to leave, how to shape the tree, I began to gain confidence. We worked in silence for a while, but you can’t cure 20 years of neglect in a few hours, so we put away the ladder and packed the saws in his car. He went back for one more look at the big tree, and smacked its trunk affectionately. “Oh,” he said. “This is the kind of tree I like.” We stood for a minute, and then he drove off to collect his family and return to Birdland for supper.

Walk in Beauty; Prune in Peace; Blessed Be.

Mary Lucille Hays lives in Birdland near White Heath. She is interested in issues of food and sustainability. Birdland now has a fan page on Facebook. Mary can be reached at LetterFromBirdland@gmail.com.