Mailing list sign-up

<< Back to main

Breezy Hill Farm Update Jul 22, 2018

Posted 7/22/2018 9:57pm by Art Ozias.


  • Thanks to everyone for a flawless ground beef pickup day.   Another list has already started.  The next freezer beef is scheduled for July 30.   So, if you have requested freezer beef, and have received an email, you will be getting a follow up email to call the processor with your instructions.
  • We are still battling the Japanese beetles.  They are slowing down, but the damage has been done, especially for a peach and nectarine tree.  Several apple trees have suffered leaf damage.  And since it takes five leaves to make an apple, there will be a lot of small apples.
  • Our pear tree has almost no pears this year.  However, the old trees planted many years ago are just loaded.  Last year it had none.  Go figure!
  • Our dirt hog list continues to grow.  If interested, send me an email.
  • We had 1.3 inches of rain this past week.  We need about three to help with the ponds and to get the grass growing again.  The warm season grasses are doing just fine, but they have a much deeper root structure.  We will be turning the cattle into those pastures this week.  That relieves pressure on the cool season grasses, and if we get some rain they will regrow and be ready for stockpiling for this winter.
  • ************************************************
Vegetables Become Less Nutritious?

Because of soil depletion, crops grown decades ago were much richer in vitamins and minerals than the varieties most of us get today

Yet another study concluded that one would have to eat eight oranges today to derive the same amount of Vitamin A as our grandparents would have gotten from one.

This was a letter to the editor of the recent ACRES magazine. I was able to locate the author and she sent me a copy. It is very well written.
The Industrial Cattle Drive 
Driving the great plains from North Texas, rivers of black cows run along side the two-lane highway through Oklahoma on Route 54 to Liberal Kansas, which is not liberal at all. Poor Dorothy, Aunt Em and Toto – their statues caught in a place so unlike their once-known world of plains and vibrant small towns. Now towns filled with a stench that is unbreathable, but breathe it you must. 

 Small towns isolated on the prairie connected only by huge cattle trucks and giant grain storage silos with the man of the family up early in the predawn light to meet with the guys at the coffee shop or to start their rounds of endless filling of feed trucks and cattle truck driving from feedlot to slaughter house. 

And they rail at the “other” people who are different from them and taking their jobs and using their health care, all the while blindly ignoring their real jailers – those men in the well placed windowed-offices in tall high-rises overlooking the scenic river of the gigantic city – those who oversee the killing of thousands and thousands of manure-encrusted beef filled with antibiotics taking our own immunity away; those who oversee the development of the seeds which cannot be saved year to year – which must be bought every year – which must be sprayed with chemicals so bad that those who use them shake themselves to death with Parkinson’s or Lou Gehrig’s disease or live where cancer is a way of life. 

The towns are dying as the high-rise offices become plusher. It’s a dirty putrid umbilical cord that becomes more frayed every season, with ranchers, farmers, workers, families, and towns dying at the end of it.

The land goes on forever with these little dying towns scattered along every so many miles. The smaller the town, the more derelict it looks, displaying crumbling buildings and closed signs as a last call for help to those whizzing by on the ribbon of Rt.54.
And they continue to rail against those “others” and continue to work at the feedlots and drive the tractor trailers that deliver the cattle to their tortured death.
And they rail at the “others” because somehow it has all slipped away from them and all they have left are their small voices to rail at others with their buddies beside them. They can’t get angry at the cattle expert, the seed salesman or the fertilizer guy because he looks like them, and is, indeed, one of them with an easy grin and flannel shirt and big overalls. And big hands to clap you on your back. They are in it together, by God, and it’s all they’ve got.

The sun’s first rays finger out over the land. Beyond the feedlots, out in the fields everything around them looks green and prosperous. The fields look just about perfect. But all the ranchers, ranch hands, and feedlot workers have in this seemingly perfect world, are their struggling families, their buddies, their small voices. The tiny towns are just about gone.

This may be the swan song of the Angry White Industrial Rancher/Farm Worker who continue to claim they are feeding the world – unable to comprehend as Yvonne Frost, former Executive Director of Oregon Tilth used to say, “They have been systemically poisoning the world for years.” The industrial poison has circled around the globe and is coming back home.
By A. J. Heim  c) 2018


Art Ozias

(660) 656-3409