CHAPTER VIII.

SUMMER-FALLOWING.

This is not the place to discuss the merits, or demerits, of fallowing.

But an intelligent Ohio farmer writes me: --"I see that you recommend fallow plowing, what are your reasons? Granting that the _immediate_ result is an increased crop, is not the land impoverished? Will not the thorough cultivation of corn, or potatoes, answer as well?" And a distinguished farmer, of this State, in a recent communication expressed the same idea--that summer-fallowing would soon impoverish the land. But if this is the case, the fault is not in the practice of summer-fallowing, but in growing too many grain crops, and selling them, instead of consuming them on the farm. Take two fields; summer-fallow one, and sow it to wheat. Plant the other to corn, and sow wheat after it in the fall. You get, say 35 bushels of wheat per acre from the summer-fallow. From the other field you get, say, 30 bushels of sh.e.l.led corn per acre, and 10 bushels of wheat afterwards. Now, where a farmer is in the habit of selling all his wheat, and consuming all his corn on the farm, it is evident that the practice of summer-fallowing will impoverish the soil more rapidly than the system of growing corn followed by wheat--and for the simple reason that more wheat is sold from the farm. If no more grain is sold in one case than in the other, the summer-fallowing will not impoverish the soil any more than corn growing.

My idea of fallowing is this:--The soil and the atmosphere furnish, on good, well cultivated land, plant-food sufficient, say, for 15 bushels of wheat per acre, _every year_. It will be sometimes more, and sometimes less, according to the season and the character of the soil, but on good, strong limestone land this may be taken as about the average. To grow wheat every year in crops of 15 bushels per acre, would impoverish the soil just as much as to summer-fallow and get 30 bushels of wheat every other year. It is the same thing in either case. But in summer-fallowing, we clean the land, and the _profits_ from a crop of 30 bushels per acre every other year, are much more than from two crops of 15 bushels every year. You know that Mr. Lawes has a field of about thirteen acres that he sows with wheat every year. On the plot that receives no manure of any kind, the crop, for twenty years, averaged 16 bushels per acre. It is plowed twice every year, and the wheat is hand-hoed in the spring to keep it clean. A few years ago, in a field adjoining this experimental wheat field, and that is of the same character of land, he made the following experiment. The land, after wheat, was fallowed, and then sown to wheat; then fallowed the next year, and again sown to wheat, and the next year it was sown to wheat after wheat. The following is the result compared with the yield of the continuously unmanured plot in the experimental field that is sown to wheat every year:

1. Year--No. 1--Fallow No crop.

No. 2--Wheat after wheat 15 bushels 3 pecks per acre.

2. Year--No. 1--Wheat after fallow 37 " -- " "

No. 2--Wheat after wheat 13 " 3 " "

3. Year--No. 1--Fallow after wheat No crop.

No. 2--Wheat after wheat 15 bushels 3 pecks per acre.

4. Year--No. 1--Wheat after fallow 42 " -- " "

No. 2--Wheat after wheat 21 " 0 " "

5. Year--No. 1--Wheat after wheat 17 " 1 " "

No. 2--Wheat after wheat 17 " -- " "

Taking the first four years, we have a total yield from the plot sown every year of 66 bushels 2 pecks, and from the two crops alternately fallowed, a total yield of 79 bushels. The next year, when wheat was sown after wheat on the land previously fallowed, the yield was almost identical with the yield from the plot that has grown wheat after wheat for so many years.

So far, these results do not indicate any exhaustion from the practice of fallowing. On the other hand, they tend to show that we can get _more_ wheat by sowing it every other year, than by cropping it every year in succession. The reason for this may be found in the fact that in a fallow the land is more frequently exposed to the atmosphere by repeated plowings and harrowings; and it should be borne in mind that the effect of stirring the land is not necessarily in proportion to the total amount of stirring, but is according to the number of times that fresh particles of soil are exposed to the atmosphere. Two plowings and two harrowings in one week, will not do as much good as two plowings and two harrowings, at different times in the course of three or four months. It is for this reason that I object, theoretically, to sowing wheat after barley. We often plow the barley stubble twice, and spend considerable labor in getting the land into good condition; but it is generally all done in the course of ten days or two weeks. We do not get any adequate benefit for this labor. We can kill weeds readily at this season, (August), but the stirring of the soil does not develope the latent plant-food to the extent it would if the work was not necessarily done in such a limited period. I say _theoretically_, for in point of fact I _do_ sow wheat after barley. I do so because it is very convenient, and because it is more immediately profitable. I am satisfied, however, that _in the end_ it would be more profitable to seed down the barley with clover.

We _must_ raise larger crops; and to do this we must raise them less frequently. This is the key-note of the coming improved system of American agriculture, in all sections where good land is worth less than one hundred dollars per acre. In the neighborhood of large cities, and wherever land commands a high price, we must keep our farms in a high state of fertility by the purchase of manures or cattle foods. Those of us in the interior, where we can not buy manure, must raise fewer grain crops, and more clover. We must aim to raise 40 bushels of wheat, 50 bushels of barley, 80 bushels of oats, and 100 bushels of sh.e.l.led corn, and 5 bushels of clover-seed per acre. That this can be done on good, well-drained land, from the unaided resources of the farm, I have no doubt. It may give us no more grain to sell than at present, but it will enable us to produce much more mutton, wool, beef, cheese, b.u.t.ter, and pork, than at present.

"But, then, will there be a demand for the meat, wool, etc.?" The present indications are highly favorable. But we must aim to raise _good_ meat. The low-priced beef and mutton sold in our markets are as unprofitable to the consumer as they are to the producer. We must feed higher, and to do this to advantage we must have improved stock. There is no profit in farming without good tillage, larger crops, improved stock, and higher feeding. The details will be modified by circ.u.mstances, but the principles are the same wherever agri-_culture_ is practised.

CHAPTER IX.

HOW TO RESTORE A WORN-OUT FARM.

I have never yet seen a "worn-out" or "exhausted farm." I know many farms that are "run down." I bought just such a farm a dozen or more years ago, and I have been trying hard, ever since, to bring it up to a profitable standard of productiveness--and am still trying, and expect to have to keep on trying so long as I keep on farming. The truth is, there never was a farm so rich, that the farmer did not wish it was richer.

I have succeeded in making the larger part of my farm much more productive than it ever was before, since it was cleared from the original forest. But it is far from being as rich as I want it. The truth is, G.o.d sent us into this world to work, and He has given us plenty to do, if we will only do it. At any rate, this is true of farming. He has not given us land ready to our hand. The man who first cleared up my farm, had no easy task. He fairly earned all the good crops he ever got from it. I have never begrudged him one particle of the "natural manure" he took out of the land, in the form of wheat, corn, oats, and hay. On the dry, sandy knolls, he probably got out a good portion of this natural manure, but on the wetter and heavier portions of the farm, he probably did not get out one-hundredth part of the natural manure which the land contained.

Now, when such a farm came into my possession, what was I to do with it?

"Tell us what you did," said the Doctor, "and then, perhaps, we can tell you what you ought to have done, and what you ought to have left undone."

"I made many mistakes."

"Amen," said the Deacon; "I am glad to hear you acknowledge it."

"Well," said the Doctor, "it is better to make mistakes in trying to do something, than to hug our self-esteem, and fold our hands in indolence.

It has been said that critics are men who have failed in their undertakings. But I rather think the most disagreeable, and self-satisfied critics, are men who have never done anything, or tried to do anything, themselves."

The Deacon, who, though something of an old fogy, is a good deal of a man, and possessed of good common sense, and much experience, took these remarks kindly. "Well," said he to me, "I must say that your farm has certainly improved, but you did things so differently from what we expected, that we could not see what you were driving at."

"I can tell you what I have been aiming at all along. 1st. To drain the wet portions of the arable land. 2d. To kill weeds, and make the soil mellow and clean. 3d. To make more manure."

"You have also bought some bone-dust, superphosphate, and other artificial manures."

"True; and if I had had more money I would have bought more manure. It would have paid well. I could have made my land as rich as it is now in half the time."

I had to depend princ.i.p.ally on the natural resources of the land. I got out of the soil all I could, and kept as much of it as possible on the farm. One of the mistakes I made was, in breaking up too much land, and putting in too much wheat, barley, oats, peas, and corn. It would have been better for my pocket, though possibly not so good for the farm, if I had left more of the land in gra.s.s, and also, if I had summer-fallowed more, and sown less barley and oats, and planted less corn.

"I do not see how plowing up the gra.s.s land," said the Deacon, "could possibly be any better for the farm. You agricultural writers are always telling us that we plow too much land, and do not raise gra.s.s and clover enough."

"What I meant by saying that it would have been better for my pocket, though possibly not so good for the farm, if I had not plowed so much land, may need explanation. The land had been only half cultivated, and was very foul. The gra.s.s and clover fields did not give more than half a crop of hay, and the hay was poor in quality, and much of it half thistles, and other weeds. I plowed this land, planted it to corn, and cultivated it thoroughly. But the labor of keeping the corn clean was costly, and absorbed a very large slice of the profits. _But_ the corn yielded a far larger produce per acre than I should have got had the land lain in gra.s.s. And as all this produce was consumed on the farm, we made more manure than if we had plowed less land."

I have great faith in the benefits of thorough tillage--or, in other words, of breaking up, pulverizing, and exposing the soil to the decomposing action of the atmosphere. I look upon a good, strong soil as a kind of storehouse of plant-food. But it is not an easy matter to render this plant-food soluble. If it were any less soluble than it is, it would have all leached out of the land centuries ago. Turning over, and fining a manure-heap, if other conditions are favorable, cause rapid fermentation with the formation of carbonate of ammonia, and other soluble salts. Many of our soils, to the depth of eight or ten inches, contain enough nitrogenous matter in an acre to produce two or three thousand pounds of ammonia. By stirring the soil, and exposing it to the atmosphere, a small portion of this nitrogen becomes annually available, and is taken up by the growing crops. And it is so with the other elements of plant-food. Stirring the soil, then, is the basis of agriculture. It has been said that we must return to the soil as much plant-food as we take from it. If this were true, nothing could be sold from the farm. What we should aim to do, is to develop as much as possible of the plant-food that lies latent in the soil, and not to sell in the form of crops, cheese, wool, or animals, any more of this plant-food than we annually develop from the soil. In this way the "condition" of the soil would remain the same. If we sell _less_ than we develop, the condition of the soil will improve.

By "condition," I mean the amount of _available_ plant-food in the soil.

Nearly all our farms are poorer in plant-food to-day than when first cleared of the original forest, or than they were ten, fifteen, or twenty years later. In other words, the plants and animals that have been sold from the farm, have carried off a considerable amount of plant-food. We have taken far more nitrogen, phosphoric acid, potash, etc., out of the soil, than we have returned to it in the shape of manure. Consequently, the soil must contain less and less of plant-food every year. And yet, while this is a self-evident fact, it is, nevertheless, true that many of these self-same farms are more productive now than when first cleared, or at any rate more productive than they were twenty-five or thirty years ago.

Sometime ago, the Deacon and I visited the farm of Mr. Dewey, of Monroe Co., N.Y. He is a good farmer. He does not practice "high farming" in the sense in which I use that term. His is a good example of what I term slow farming. He raises large crops, but comparatively few of them. On his farm of 300 acres, he raises 40 acres of wheat, 17 acres of Indian corn, and 23 acres of oats, barley, potatoes, roots, etc. In other words, he has 80 acres in crops, and 220 acres in gra.s.s--not permanent gra.s.s. He lets it lie in gra.s.s five, six, seven, or eight years, as he deems best, and then breaks it up, and plants it to corn. The land he intends to plant to corn next year, has been in gra.s.s for seven years.

He will put pretty much all his manure on this land. After corn, it will be sown to oats, or barley; then sown to wheat, and seeded down again.

It will then lie in gra.s.s three, four, five, six, or seven years, until he needs it again for corn, etc. This is "slow farming," but it is also good farming--that is to say, it gives large yields per acre, and a good return for the labor expended.

The soil of this farm is richer to-day in _available_ plant-food than when first cleared. It produces larger crops per acre.

Mr. D. called our attention to a fact that establishes this point. An old fence that had occupied the ground for many years was removed some years since, and the two fields thrown into one. Every time this field is in crops, it is easy to see where the old fence was, by the short straw and poor growth on this strip, as compared with the land on each side which had been cultivated for years.

This is precisely the result that I should have expected. If Mr. D. was a poor farmer--if he cropped his land frequently, did not more than half-cultivate it, sold everything he raised, and drew back no manure--I think the old fence-strip would have given the best crops.

The strip of land on which the old fence stood in Mr. Dewey's field, contained _more_ plant-food than the soil on either side of it. But it was not available. It was not developed. It was latent, inert, insoluble, crude, and undecomposed. It was so much dead capital. The land on either side which had been cultivated for years, produced better crops. Why? Simply because the stirring of the soil had developed _more_ plant-food than had been removed by the crops. If the stirring of the soil developed 100 lbs. of plant-food a year, and only 75 lbs. were carried off in the crops--25 lbs. being left on the land in the form of roots, stubble, etc.--the land, at the expiration of 40 years, would contain, provided none of it was lost, 1,000 lbs. more _available_ plant-food than the uncultivated strip. On the other hand, the latter would contain 3,000 lbs. more actual plant-food per acre than the land which had been cultivated--but it is in an unavailable condition. It is dead capital.

I do not know that I make myself understood, though I would like to do so, because I am sure there is no point in scientific farming of greater importance. Mr. Geddes calls gra.s.s the "pivotal crop" of American agriculture. He deserves our thanks for the word and the idea connected with it. But I am inclined to think the _pivot_ on which our agriculture stands and rotates, lies deeper than this. The gra.s.s crop creates nothing--developes nothing. The untilled and unmanured gra.s.s lands of Herkimer County, in this State, are no richer to-day than they were 50 years ago. The pastures of Cheshire, England, except those that have been top-dressed with bones, or other manures, are no more productive than they were centuries back. Gra.s.s alone will not make rich land. It is a good "savings bank." It gathers up and saves plant-food from running to waste. It pays a good interest, and is a capital inst.i.tution.

But the real source of fertility must be looked for _in the stores of plant-food lying dormant in the soil_. Tillage, underdraining, and thorough cultivation, are the means by which we develop and render this plant-food available. Gra.s.s, clover, peas, or any other crop consumed on the farm, merely affords us the means of saving this plant-food and making it pay a good interest.

CHAPTER X.

HOW TO MAKE MANURE.

If we have the necessary materials, it is not a difficult matter to make manure; in fact, the manure will make itself. We sometimes need to hasten the process, and to see that none of the fertilizing matter runs to waste. This is about all that we can do. We cannot create an atom of plant-food. It is ready formed to our hands; but we must know where to look for it, and how to get it in the easiest, cheapest, and best way, and how to save and use it. The science of manure-making is a profound study. It is intimately connected with nearly every branch of agriculture.

If weeds grow and decay on the land, they make manure. If we grow a crop of buckwheat, or spurry, or mustard, or rape, or clover, and mow it, and let it lie on the land, it makes manure; or if we plow it under, it forms manure; or if, after it is mown, we rake up the green crop, and put it into a heap, it will ferment, heat will be produced by the slow combustion of a portion of the carbonaceous and nitrogenous matter, and the result will be a ma.s.s of material, which we should all recognize as "manure." If, instead of putting the crop into a heap and letting it ferment, we feed it to animals, the digestible carbonaceous and nitrogenous matter will be consumed to produce animal heat and to sustain the vital functions, and the refuse, or the solid and liquid droppings of the animals, will be manure.

If the crop rots on the ground, nothing is added to it. If it ferments, and gives out heat, in a heap, nothing is added to it. If it is pa.s.sed through an animal, and produces heat, nothing is added to it.