We had our first farm causality last week. Mr. Hop, one of our first two rabbits, died sometime in the night after only having him here about two weeks. He was young and friendly, with a nice light Chinchilla coat. We suspect it was our fault, having fed him on a range of fresh plants that he was not ready for so soon after a diet of pellets.
Rest In Peace, Mr. Hop the first (Bunny, behind him, is thriving.)
This event led to three things. First, I needed to dig a hole. I chose a spot near the drip line under an oak tree, a place I’ve always found shady and pleasant. Digging here gave me my first look at the soil below a depth of one foot in this area. Dark, crumbly clay with good feeder root penetration by the oak near the surface. Large roots began to appear about 16 inches down. That’s a few more things we now know about our land that we didn’t know before. Second, we resolved to do more research on the diet of new animals. We now use a slower approach to adapting animals to what we have available for feeding. A lesson learned a little harder than necessary, but also not easily forgotten. And third, we needed a new buck for our future rabbitry.
This led back to the neighbor that sold us Mr. Hop. Knowing that she had others available and having already examined them, this was the fastest and least expensive (time is money!) way to get back on track. We also appreciated her help in deciphering Mr. Hop’s death and want to support her efforts in our community. When I went to pick up Mr. Hop Too, the conversation turned to hay, as it often does in these parts during the summer. She mentioned problems with tansy (toxic to livestock — not desirable in pastures or hay) and wondered if we were experiencing the same. So far I had only seen it around the driveway and in the riparian zone near the creek, and said as much. But the conversation shifted my focus to being on the lookout for it. That evening, I spotted a few tansy plants stretching tall to get their shiny yellow flowers above the hay that we’ve been delayed in getting cut.
Still a little more tansy to pull out
Today, garbage bag in hand and backup machete on belt, I waded out early into the north pasture to pull tansy. I noticed a lot of diversity while scanning through the seed heads looking for tight clusters of yellow flowers. Within 15 minutes, the pleasant absentminded work shifted and the realizations began.
Me wandering around like I’ve lost my car keys: “it’s nice and cool this morning... this grass is tall... we have a lot of diversity and beneficial plants in this pasture... much of it is going to seed... the south pasture doesn’t have these plants... seed... south pasture... collect the seed!”
It would be difficult to get large amounts and we wouldn’t want to undermine the north pasture’s own efforts to reseed itself for the future. A little bit here and there to be sown in other areas could help to improve poorer pastures over time though, and wouldn’t cost me anything but the exercise.
This realization might not have occurred if our hay guy’s mower hadn’t broke, delaying cutting until after these plants started to go to seed. It also might not have occurred without Mr. Hop’s demise. Both of these are events that have weighed on me over the last week, but there’s been a refreshing outcome. These proverbial lemons have given us lemonade in the form of new knowledge (the soil, roots, and plant observations) and opportunities (new rabbits, new seed sources). They are also linked together in a feedback loop that continues through our relationships and actions. What might I discover when collecting this seed? What new insights will I gain when I report back to my neighbor with thanks for alerting me to the tansy invasion?
What’s been staring me right in the face all this time and still waiting for me to notice it?