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| History on the hoof (Winter 2006) |
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Saving classic livestock breeds from extinction
By Steve Werblow
Mustangs are the very embodiment of the West that’s still wild, the freedom of hooves on the high desert and wind in a flowing mane. More than 27,000 mustangs still roam in herds across 10 western states. Some herds are direct descendants of horses stolen from the Spanish conquistadors. Others trace back to freed cavalry mounts, or old workhorses.
Miller’s flock became her passion. Today, her 10 acres are home to 12 rams and 26 ewes, a cornerstone of the population of 180-or-so pure British Soays outside of Europe. Her network encompasses Soay enthusiasts across the globe, as well as a Massachusetts weaver who eagerly buys her wool.
“It’s really enriched my life,” Miller says.
“Because they’re wild, they’re looking for someone to bond with,” says Lisa Penter of Philomath, Ore., owner of five mustangs that her family rides on long trail camping expeditions. “You’re their herd. Once you gain their trust, they just melt. And it’s a mutual bond. They’re your best friend. It’s really special.” Penter’s cousin, fellow trail rider Tricia Irwin of Canby, Ore., adds, “When you fall off in the wilderness, they’re the horses that aren’t going to leave you behind.”
Great fit
Historic breeds of livestock can be as perfect a fit on a homestead as gingerbread trim on an antique farmhouse. In fact, rare breeds like Cotswold sheep, Kerry cattle, and Bronze turkeys were common fixtures on American family farms just a century ago. As commercial farming pushed for big animals and fast production, centuries of breeding for hardiness, disposition, and flavor were shouldered aside. But that’s what makes many historic breeds perfect for small farms, notes Mother Prioress Therese Critchley at Our Lady of the Rock Monastery on Shaw Island, Wash., a renowned breeder of Kerry cows.
A mature Kerry cow weighs in at 900 pounds, which is 500 pounds lighter than the familiar black-and-white Holstein that’s become the backbone of the dairy industry. And while a Holstein can produce 21,000 pounds of milk per year - great for a dairy farmer, but enough to drown a family - Kerry cattle yield a more modest 6,500 to 8,000 pounds. “They’re a real family-type cow,” says Mother Therese, who milks the monastery’s Kerrys and Jerseys by hand. “They give enough milk that a family could handle it. And they’re great grazers. In Ireland, they got whatever grass they had. They get fat on nothing.”
Low maintenance
Like Kerrys, many breeds that pre-date modern pest control and high-octane rations are hardier than today’s high producers- a real benefit on homesteads. Jared Gellert has raised livestock in Virginia and Oregon, and is a big fan of breeds that are well-adapted to small-farm life. “I’m not interested in pampering,” he says. “I believe in animals that can take care of themselves - and they can take care of themselves if what we’re asking them to do is a fit for what they are biologically capable of doing.”
Gellert stocked his acreage near Ashland, Ore., with St. Croix sheep, a meat breed from the Caribbean known for hardiness, parasite resistance, and great flavor. Unlike woolly sheep, St. Croix and several other hair breeds (including Katahdins and Barbados) shed their long coats every spring. That means there’s no need to for shearing - a big time- and money-saver on a small operation.
Native smarts
At Our Lady of the Rock, Mother Hildegard George has built an international reputation for her lines of Black Cotswold sheep. She enjoys the historic tie between the Church and the sheep known as the “gentle giants” during the Middle Ages. “England’s churches were built with wool money from Cotswold sheep,” she points out. She likes the fact that black wool from her flock fetches a tidy premium from spinners. But most of all, she respects the breed. “I had them for 12 years before I got a vet bill,” she notes. “And they’re smart. The Cotswolds know how to melt ice off the water tanks. Our Suffolk crosses were total idiots. When the tanks froze on them, we had to bring them buckets of water every five hours.”
In Glasco, Kan., Larry Sorell says smarts are a big benefit of his Red Wattle hogs—the offspring of wild pigs caught in Texas in the 1970s. He illustrates with the story of a pregnant sow that bolted one frigid winter day. A week later, she trotted back with seven healthy piglets in tow. “She knew how to keep them warm,” he marvels. “A confinement hog would never have known how to survive.” Sorell says Red Wattles are a world apart from the hogs he worked with during his career in commercial confinement facilities. “There’s just no comparison,” he says. “These hogs are personable. We move them around with hardly any effort. Confinement hogs are a lot more flighty—you’ve got to push them around.”
Pushing around a farm animal is tough, dangerous work, notes Lyndall Mack of Camp Douglas, Wis., secretary of the Great Lakes Belted Galloway Association. Mack and her husband Bob built a herd of compact Belted Galloways on the farm homesteaded by Bob’s grandfather after the Civil War. “The Beltie is a real friendly animal,” Mack says as a panda-patterned calf nudges her leg. “Some people say they’re a lady’s animal. Of course, I won’t go into the bullpen alone, but I find the cows easy to handle. And wouldn’t you rather go out and have an animal you can handle rather than fight for everything you have to do?”
Good taste
In the end, raising endangered breeds may be as much a matter of taste as of temperament. Frankly, they taste good - and that could be the key to their survival. “It’s ironic, but we’ve got to eat them to save them,” says Marjorie Bender, technical program manager for the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy (ALBC).
After all, it’s the rich, red, marbled meat of the Red Wattle hog that drew celebrity chef Mario Batali from his New York City kitchen to Larry Sorell’s farm to see his hogs. It’s the lean beef of Belted Galloways, which keep warm with 4,000-hair-per-square-inch coats rather than carcass fat, that excites health-conscious buyers. It’s the tiny globules of fat in Kerry cow milk that make it so digestible. And it’s the dark meat of endangered turkeys like Bronzes and Narragansets that’s fueled the revival of these living heirlooms. With such a wealth of options, choosing breeds to raise can pose a challenge. ALBC’s web site, www.albc-usa.org, is a great starting point, offering descriptions of dozens of breeds and even flagging the tastiest ones.
The next step is networking. Joining ALBC costs just $30, and opens up access to the group’s directory of breeders. Most breeds also have a fan base that’s created national or regional associations to promote standards and help get new people involved in their cause.
Grocery budget
“We’re not rebels against agri-business,” says Kathie Miller. “But there is room for these small breeds, and it’s something you can do on a couple of acres. We were just two housewives on a grocery budget, but when the Soay flock came up for sale in Canada, we knew we wanted it.”
Miller says sales of lambs - her purebred British Soays sell for $400 to $500—have been brisk, but hardly constitutes a get-rich-quick scheme. “People ask me if they can retire on this,” she adds. “I tell them ‘slow down - you’ll be lucky to make enough to pay for your hay.’ But how many times can you have a hobby that pays for itself? “And there’s more to it than that,” she adds. Miller is moved by her connection to history, and by her role in keeping a bit of that history alive in each lamb that wobbles out of the barn in the spring. Surrounded by the band that has helped expand the Soays’ toehold on survival, she says, “I feel I was able to make a difference with this flock.”
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