At this point in the locavore narrative, urban chicken-keeping has vocal advocates and an adamant opposition. Some cities welcome backyard poultry with open arms, while others are more skeptical. As the practice grows, the two sides seem prepared for a long, drawn out war on the value and propriety of chicken-keeping within city limits.
Urban farmers generally view a backyard coop as a natural extension of their garden and a convenient, eco-friendly source of protein – though no academic study has examined the environmental impact of the practice. Some even see their charges as pets with benefits.
On this side, we have Martha Stewart, that doyenne of domestic perfection, and Susan Orlean, the sensitive, bestselling New Yorker writer played by Meryl Streep in Adaptation.
Their neighbors take a more jaundiced view. Protest groups in cities across the country have helped devise bills to ban or restrict the practice. These opponents argue that chickens are smelly and noisy and a potential health risk; that the coops are eyesores that potentially bring down property values; and that they attract rodents and predators, like coyotes, endangering chickens as well as children.
And then, of course, there is the potential slaughterhouse next door. "Botched slaughter is all too common," writes Ian Elwood, of Neighbors Opposed to Backyard Slaughter, an anti-urban animal outfit in Oakland. "But even slaughter that is performed 'correctly' is still no treat to witness or hear."
Due in part to such concerns, Boston, Detroit, D.C., and Toronto prohibit the keeping of livestock within city limits. Chicago, like New York City, views chickens as pets and has no limits on ownership, though slaughter is forbidden. But suburban Naperville and Northbrook are considering bans, while Evanston has set a limit of six hens per household.
Many cities in the West are going in the other direction. In 2010, Seattle raised its hen limit from three to eight per household. Some animal-friendly residents of Portland, where residents can keep up to three hens without a permit, have been running a tour of local chicken coops since 2003.
In Vancouver, Mayor Gregor Robertson sees chickens in every lot as part of the city's destiny as the world's greenest city -- and launched Operation Chicken to make it happen. In 2009, the Vancouver city council voted unanimously to allow backyard chickens. A year later, the city released detailed guidelines for keeping backyard hens, including what kinds of properties, proximity to property line, and type and number of chickens (four hens).
Perhaps no city is as divided over the chicken question as Oakland. City officials are considering allowing residents to raise and slaughter not just chickens, but goats, rabbits, ducks and other animals, in their backyards. Backers argue that it would help alleviate food deserts.
Oakland's anti-slaughter group sees the practice as a socio-economic problem. NOBS argues that the city's approval of the slaughter of chickens “would serve the needs of a small group of people interested in creating artisan animal products instead of serving the low-income communities.” They've posted flyers around the city, playing up fears of stray chickens wandering the city and children witnessing grisly scenes of animal killing.
Despite this opposition, some degree of urban chicken keeping is most likely here to stay, and compromise is probably inevitable in many municipalities. Attacks like that of NOBS appear more likely merely to inflame the process.
2012年2月14日星期二
2012年2月7日星期二
Eliot family says town pressuring them to ditch pets
Four chickens named Popcorn, Eloise, Lady Bird and Ula may have to find a new home, if resident Brian McClellan can't convince the town's Board of Appeals that he has not run afoul of the law.
McClellan said he's hoping the board will be a voice of sanity in what he feels has been a crazy situation that has been both discriminatory and unfair to him and his family.
And it has ended with a recent edict from the town's code enforcement officer that he either dismantle the coop and get rid of the chickens or face fines of up to $100 per day.
McClellan said he would never have purchased the Rhode Island reds, now his children's pets, last summer if he had any idea that code enforcement officer James Marchese would change his mind about allowing him to have them.
The avian drama is playing out as the town works to craft its first-ever chicken ordinance. Although McClellan can't prove his situation was the catalyst, he said he suspects that it might have been.
Marchese, recovering from surgery, was unavailable for comment Monday.
Board of Selectmen Chairman Roland Fernald said Marchese was only doing his job, responding to a complaint about the chickens by McClellan's neighbor, which led to a review of his property.
That leaves McClellan shaking his head: He knows of at least two others in his Bolt Hill Road neighborhood who have chickens and haven't been singled out.
"The town isn't using common sense. If my neighbor is so upset, I'm willing to make changes," he said. "I don't really know what I can do. No one is willing to come to my property, and every time I went to Town Hall, I was told everything was fine."
McClellan's interaction with town officials began last July. The family, including wife Amy and their three children, had recently lost the family dog, and the children asked whether they could have another pet.
They settled on chickens, in part because the couple felt it would teach their children responsibility, as the chickens' care is primarily in the youngsters' hands.
Before he invested in a coop, yard and chickens, McClellan said, he visited Marchese, explaining he wanted to abide by the law and would not purchase chickens if he was not allowed to keep them on his property.
"He said any town ordinance preventing ownership of chickens in the Village District (where we live) is unclear and questionable," said McClellan. "Therefore, he could not prevent us from owning them."
The lack of clarity was linked to two ordinances that have conflicting requirements. One states that accessory structures have to be 10 feet from the property line. Another states that houses for the breeding and care of animals "for sale or lease" must be 100 feet or more from property lines.
"I told him these were pets, and we weren't going to sell them or the eggs from them," McClellan said.
In an August letter, Marchese laid out the two ordinances, stating that, when there is "doubt of intent," the benefit of the doubt goes to the applicant.
McClellan went to Town Hall again after receiving the letter, he said, and again Marchese "told me I could own chickens on my property."
Popcorn and the gang were bought in September, when McClellan received another letter from Marchese, asking him to place the coop 10 feet from the property line, which he did.
McClellan didn't hear from the town until late December, when Marchese wrote that, "upon further review," the McClellans had to get a building permit and apply for site plan review by the Planning Board.
What happened in the ensuing month was a flurry of letters back and forth and several visits to Town Hall — including one to Town Planner Kate Pelletier, who told McClellan he did not have to apply for site plan review, according to McClellan. Pelletier could not be reached for comment.
The ultimate slap for McClellan, however, was a Jan. 12 Board of Selectmen decision approving Marchese's request to order McClellan to remove the coop and get rid of the chickens or face fines of up to $100 a day.
McClellan said he was never notified of the meeting and, therefore, was not given a chance to explain his position.
"I don't understand," he said. "I tried to do everything I was told to do. And to top it off, my neighbors have chickens and the town is not going to tell them to remove them."
Fernald said the case was "a lot of 'he said, he said' with the neighbor, and I'm not going to get into that." He said, when Marchese brought the situation to the board, "we needed to move forward to rectify the situation."
He said the selectmen have faith in Marchese.
"We support his decision, and have asked him to move forward," Fernald said.
He said he knows McClellan has filed an appeal, "and hopefully this can be taken care of so things work out for everyone."
McClellan said he's hoping the board will be a voice of sanity in what he feels has been a crazy situation that has been both discriminatory and unfair to him and his family.
And it has ended with a recent edict from the town's code enforcement officer that he either dismantle the coop and get rid of the chickens or face fines of up to $100 per day.
McClellan said he would never have purchased the Rhode Island reds, now his children's pets, last summer if he had any idea that code enforcement officer James Marchese would change his mind about allowing him to have them.
The avian drama is playing out as the town works to craft its first-ever chicken ordinance. Although McClellan can't prove his situation was the catalyst, he said he suspects that it might have been.
Marchese, recovering from surgery, was unavailable for comment Monday.
Board of Selectmen Chairman Roland Fernald said Marchese was only doing his job, responding to a complaint about the chickens by McClellan's neighbor, which led to a review of his property.
That leaves McClellan shaking his head: He knows of at least two others in his Bolt Hill Road neighborhood who have chickens and haven't been singled out.
"The town isn't using common sense. If my neighbor is so upset, I'm willing to make changes," he said. "I don't really know what I can do. No one is willing to come to my property, and every time I went to Town Hall, I was told everything was fine."
McClellan's interaction with town officials began last July. The family, including wife Amy and their three children, had recently lost the family dog, and the children asked whether they could have another pet.
They settled on chickens, in part because the couple felt it would teach their children responsibility, as the chickens' care is primarily in the youngsters' hands.
Before he invested in a coop, yard and chickens, McClellan said, he visited Marchese, explaining he wanted to abide by the law and would not purchase chickens if he was not allowed to keep them on his property.
"He said any town ordinance preventing ownership of chickens in the Village District (where we live) is unclear and questionable," said McClellan. "Therefore, he could not prevent us from owning them."
The lack of clarity was linked to two ordinances that have conflicting requirements. One states that accessory structures have to be 10 feet from the property line. Another states that houses for the breeding and care of animals "for sale or lease" must be 100 feet or more from property lines.
"I told him these were pets, and we weren't going to sell them or the eggs from them," McClellan said.
In an August letter, Marchese laid out the two ordinances, stating that, when there is "doubt of intent," the benefit of the doubt goes to the applicant.
McClellan went to Town Hall again after receiving the letter, he said, and again Marchese "told me I could own chickens on my property."
Popcorn and the gang were bought in September, when McClellan received another letter from Marchese, asking him to place the coop 10 feet from the property line, which he did.
McClellan didn't hear from the town until late December, when Marchese wrote that, "upon further review," the McClellans had to get a building permit and apply for site plan review by the Planning Board.
What happened in the ensuing month was a flurry of letters back and forth and several visits to Town Hall — including one to Town Planner Kate Pelletier, who told McClellan he did not have to apply for site plan review, according to McClellan. Pelletier could not be reached for comment.
The ultimate slap for McClellan, however, was a Jan. 12 Board of Selectmen decision approving Marchese's request to order McClellan to remove the coop and get rid of the chickens or face fines of up to $100 a day.
McClellan said he was never notified of the meeting and, therefore, was not given a chance to explain his position.
"I don't understand," he said. "I tried to do everything I was told to do. And to top it off, my neighbors have chickens and the town is not going to tell them to remove them."
Fernald said the case was "a lot of 'he said, he said' with the neighbor, and I'm not going to get into that." He said, when Marchese brought the situation to the board, "we needed to move forward to rectify the situation."
He said the selectmen have faith in Marchese.
"We support his decision, and have asked him to move forward," Fernald said.
He said he knows McClellan has filed an appeal, "and hopefully this can be taken care of so things work out for everyone."
2012年1月11日星期三
No crying fowl over proposed chicken rules
Fraser Campbell wants to raise chickens in his backyard.
But his 1189 Roslyn Rd. home and backyard are too small to get a chicken permit under Oak Bay’s existing Animal Control Bylaw, which governs chicken coops and the number of birds a homeowner can keep in their yard.
That may soon change.
Oak Bay’s new mayor and council last week asked planners to look at ways to make it easier for people such as Campbell to get a poultry-keeping permit needed to raise chickens in the municipality.
“There’s no reason why on a small lot you cannot have five chickens,” said Campbell, a web developer who works from home. He estimated it takes about 16 square feet per chicken to keep hens.
He said urban food production is important on Vancouver Island, which grows less than 10 per cent of its own food and would be in dire straits if an earthquake or other natural disaster shut down the ferries for a longer period of time.
Council is looking to make a bylaw amendment, but needs more information before changing existing regulations.
In addition to reducing chicken permit lot sizes, council wants planners to look how Saanich and the City of Vancouver deal with the issue of limiting the number of chickens and chicken coops.
One councillor, Kevin Murdoch, said Oak Bay has “eight official chicken coops” inside its boundaries and at least another 25 unofficial coops and small flocks.
Last September the previous council told planners to prepare a bylaw amendment to reduce the lot size required for keeping poultry.
Roy Thomassen, director of building and planning, recommended the lot size be reduced to 557 square metres – large enough for three chickens and down from the previous 745 sq. m minimum which allowed for a coop and five chickens. The existing bylaw allows for up to 10 chickens on lots larger than 4,047 sq. m.
Murdoch, noting there have been no complaints to the municipality about clucking chickens, called the existing rules “bizarre” and restrictive to people who want to produce their own eggs.
Doug Clarke has a coop and five chickens in his backyard at 1199 Hampshire Rd.
The modest flock lays three to five eggs daily.
“I haven’t bought eggs in three years,” Clarke said.
He knows another dozen Oak Bay residents who also want to raise egg-laying chickens. It’s all part of a growing movement towards food security, which involves growing some of the food you eat – something he said the new council “is gung ho about.”
Clarke, who built his own chicken coop to comply with Oak Bay’s standards, spent about $300 on recycled and salvaged wood, compared to the $800 to $1,200 most others pay for a pre-built coop.
The henhouses are inspected by Oak Bay before a permit allowing chickens is issued.
Clarke said it takes “commitment” to raise chickens. He’s proud to show his two children, aged three and five, where food comes from.
“I want my kids to know food does not just come from the market.”
But his 1189 Roslyn Rd. home and backyard are too small to get a chicken permit under Oak Bay’s existing Animal Control Bylaw, which governs chicken coops and the number of birds a homeowner can keep in their yard.
That may soon change.
Oak Bay’s new mayor and council last week asked planners to look at ways to make it easier for people such as Campbell to get a poultry-keeping permit needed to raise chickens in the municipality.
“There’s no reason why on a small lot you cannot have five chickens,” said Campbell, a web developer who works from home. He estimated it takes about 16 square feet per chicken to keep hens.
He said urban food production is important on Vancouver Island, which grows less than 10 per cent of its own food and would be in dire straits if an earthquake or other natural disaster shut down the ferries for a longer period of time.
Council is looking to make a bylaw amendment, but needs more information before changing existing regulations.
In addition to reducing chicken permit lot sizes, council wants planners to look how Saanich and the City of Vancouver deal with the issue of limiting the number of chickens and chicken coops.
One councillor, Kevin Murdoch, said Oak Bay has “eight official chicken coops” inside its boundaries and at least another 25 unofficial coops and small flocks.
Last September the previous council told planners to prepare a bylaw amendment to reduce the lot size required for keeping poultry.
Roy Thomassen, director of building and planning, recommended the lot size be reduced to 557 square metres – large enough for three chickens and down from the previous 745 sq. m minimum which allowed for a coop and five chickens. The existing bylaw allows for up to 10 chickens on lots larger than 4,047 sq. m.
Murdoch, noting there have been no complaints to the municipality about clucking chickens, called the existing rules “bizarre” and restrictive to people who want to produce their own eggs.
Doug Clarke has a coop and five chickens in his backyard at 1199 Hampshire Rd.
The modest flock lays three to five eggs daily.
“I haven’t bought eggs in three years,” Clarke said.
He knows another dozen Oak Bay residents who also want to raise egg-laying chickens. It’s all part of a growing movement towards food security, which involves growing some of the food you eat – something he said the new council “is gung ho about.”
Clarke, who built his own chicken coop to comply with Oak Bay’s standards, spent about $300 on recycled and salvaged wood, compared to the $800 to $1,200 most others pay for a pre-built coop.
The henhouses are inspected by Oak Bay before a permit allowing chickens is issued.
Clarke said it takes “commitment” to raise chickens. He’s proud to show his two children, aged three and five, where food comes from.
“I want my kids to know food does not just come from the market.”
2011年12月14日星期三
Chickens not allowed to cross road into Prairie du Sac backyards
The Mack family in Prairie du Sac wanted chickens for several reasons: as a source of fresh eggs, to further the family's commitment to local food and to complement their backyard garden.
"Our neighbors in Madison had chickens," said Jennifer Mack. "That could've been what planted the idea."
Allowing backyard chickens "is something a lot of metro areas do," she said, but a couple of months after the family began raising five hens in a coop on their property on Fifth Street, an officer knocked at their door telling them the chickens needed to be gone within two weeks.
In the village of Prairie du Sac, as well as in Sauk City, chickens are not allowed within village limits.
Prairie du Sac Village Administrator Alan Wildman said someone in Mack's neighborhood called the village about the family's chickens and he forwarded the complaint to the police department.
"That ordinance was recently redone in June of 2009," Wildman said. "They looked at not just chickens, but all livestock and different animals being raised."
Mack has contacted the village board about taking a new look at the ordinance, but Wildman said it will be up to the board whether it does so. Wildman said this is the first time a complaint related to raising chickens has come across his desk.
Mack, her husband and two young children have lived in Prairie du Sac for almost 18 months, and she said when they decided to get the chickens their friends told them the animals were allowed in the village.
"We kind of just went by word of mouth," Mack said. "Everyone said they're allowed in Prairie but not in Sauk."
Sam Mack, Jennifer's husband, said that from driving around and talking to people, he knows there are residents in both villages who also are raising chickens.
Sauk Prairie Police Chief Jerry Strunz said such complaints are "sporadic," and the police deal with such residential-property issues on a by-complaint basis.
Across the country, raising backyard chickens is a growing trend, especially during a recession when people are looking for ways to cut food costs and be more self-sufficient. A quick Google search reveals a plethora of resources for people interested in raising backyard chickens, and numerous national publications that have published articles about their increasing popularity.
Chickens also are allowed in nearby communities such as Baraboo and Middleton.
"We've allowed them for several years," Middleton Assistant Planning Director Mark Opitz. He added, "There's quite a bit of interest in it. I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a dozen people raising chickens in Middleton."
Middleton's village ordinance allows residents to raise hens as long as they don't become a nuisance. Opitz said the only complaint he recalls is from a resident who thought his neighbor was keeping a rooster, which is not allowed.
The city of Baraboo has allowed chickens for nearly two years, and according to the city's finance director and city clerk Cheryl Giese, the ordinance hasn't caused any problems or complaints.
Under Baraboo's ordinance, a resident may have six hens. Residents must submit plans for a chicken coop for municipal review and pay $25 for a permit with a $10 annual renewal.
The village of Prairie du Sac does allow residents to have up to four rabbits, which the Macks also raise in their backyard in structures similar to their chicken coops.
Jennifer said she hopes the village reconsiders allowing chickens, in part because her children like having them, and she said she worries about integrating them into a nearby farm where they'll be at the bottom of the pecking order.
She said she planned to attend the village board meeting that took place last night after the Eagle's deadline.
"We've been here not quite 1 years, and I already feel like we're causing trouble," she said.
Sam said he'll take the chickens to a nearby farm this weekend, and if the village changes its ordinance, he said he can always get them back.
"We're not here to ruffle any feathers," he said.
"Our neighbors in Madison had chickens," said Jennifer Mack. "That could've been what planted the idea."
Allowing backyard chickens "is something a lot of metro areas do," she said, but a couple of months after the family began raising five hens in a coop on their property on Fifth Street, an officer knocked at their door telling them the chickens needed to be gone within two weeks.
In the village of Prairie du Sac, as well as in Sauk City, chickens are not allowed within village limits.
Prairie du Sac Village Administrator Alan Wildman said someone in Mack's neighborhood called the village about the family's chickens and he forwarded the complaint to the police department.
"That ordinance was recently redone in June of 2009," Wildman said. "They looked at not just chickens, but all livestock and different animals being raised."
Mack has contacted the village board about taking a new look at the ordinance, but Wildman said it will be up to the board whether it does so. Wildman said this is the first time a complaint related to raising chickens has come across his desk.
Mack, her husband and two young children have lived in Prairie du Sac for almost 18 months, and she said when they decided to get the chickens their friends told them the animals were allowed in the village.
"We kind of just went by word of mouth," Mack said. "Everyone said they're allowed in Prairie but not in Sauk."
Sam Mack, Jennifer's husband, said that from driving around and talking to people, he knows there are residents in both villages who also are raising chickens.
Sauk Prairie Police Chief Jerry Strunz said such complaints are "sporadic," and the police deal with such residential-property issues on a by-complaint basis.
Across the country, raising backyard chickens is a growing trend, especially during a recession when people are looking for ways to cut food costs and be more self-sufficient. A quick Google search reveals a plethora of resources for people interested in raising backyard chickens, and numerous national publications that have published articles about their increasing popularity.
Chickens also are allowed in nearby communities such as Baraboo and Middleton.
"We've allowed them for several years," Middleton Assistant Planning Director Mark Opitz. He added, "There's quite a bit of interest in it. I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a dozen people raising chickens in Middleton."
Middleton's village ordinance allows residents to raise hens as long as they don't become a nuisance. Opitz said the only complaint he recalls is from a resident who thought his neighbor was keeping a rooster, which is not allowed.
The city of Baraboo has allowed chickens for nearly two years, and according to the city's finance director and city clerk Cheryl Giese, the ordinance hasn't caused any problems or complaints.
Under Baraboo's ordinance, a resident may have six hens. Residents must submit plans for a chicken coop for municipal review and pay $25 for a permit with a $10 annual renewal.
The village of Prairie du Sac does allow residents to have up to four rabbits, which the Macks also raise in their backyard in structures similar to their chicken coops.
Jennifer said she hopes the village reconsiders allowing chickens, in part because her children like having them, and she said she worries about integrating them into a nearby farm where they'll be at the bottom of the pecking order.
She said she planned to attend the village board meeting that took place last night after the Eagle's deadline.
"We've been here not quite 1 years, and I already feel like we're causing trouble," she said.
Sam said he'll take the chickens to a nearby farm this weekend, and if the village changes its ordinance, he said he can always get them back.
"We're not here to ruffle any feathers," he said.
2011年11月30日星期三
A couple learns to live simply, richly
To step into Shane Jewell and Emily Pruiksma’s home in Paradise Valley is to enter a world made by hand — their own hands.
Consider first where they live: Tucked behind Plum Forest Farm, past wooden gates, a chicken coop and several Scottish Highland cows, sits a pair of yurts, the couple’s home and music studio. Inside, the hand-made feel begins with the warm patina of the hand-packed earthen cob floor on up to the hand-bent poles supporting the hand-sewn cover.
Then look around: There’s the folding rocking chair Pruiksma made. Jewell’s handcrafted 17-foot umiak. The beloved hurdy-gurdy he built. A sturdy worm bin Pruiksma crafted.
They don’t own a car. A wood-fired cookstove heats the hot water tank. They power their washing machine by pedaling a stationary bicycle. Energy for their electric chainsaw and rototiller comes from the sun. Their 1920s-era treadle sewing machine — gifted to them by an Islander — is a steady workhorse.
And these days, as they ready themselves for Vashon’s 29th annual Art Studio Tour this weekend, their handcrafted lives are on display more than ever. Hand-dipped beeswax candles — made in part from beeswax they collected on Vashon — line a table. Etched-glass candle holders and pendant necklaces line another. And Pruiksma’s speciality — delicately decorated Ukrainian eggs that have begun to draw repeat visitors to their small yurt — are being readied for the tour.
Saturday and Sunday, when visitors follow the narrow path to Jewell and Pruiksma’s yurt, they’ll likely find Pruiksma bent over a blown egg, a candle to warm her kitska — or hot wax pen — glowing softly next to her, as she plies her craft.
The two enjoy the studio tour, as it’s a chance, they note, to connect with friends and neighbors. But more often than not, it’s also an opportunity for them to talk about the lifestyle they’ve chosen and the philosophy that imbues it.
“We get people who come and see the large picture of it, and it kind of fires them up. And others look a little confused by it,” Pruiksma noted. “We end up talking a lot about our space as well as our art, because so much of what we do is part of a larger picture, … part of our effort to live in a way that’s a lot lower impact.”
If anyone on Vashon could be said to piece a life together, Shane Jewell and Emily Pruiksma, both 33, could. He teaches at the Homestead School; she works two days a week at Vashon Library. He offers music lessons to a dozen or two students in 10 different instruments. She builds and sells worm bins. Together, they grow much of their own food.
Fourteen years ago, Jewell and Pruiksma never imagined they’d be living life off the grid in a hand-crafted yurt on a small organic farm. But that was before they staffed the 600-member food co-op kitchen of Oberlin College in Ohio.
The couple attended Oberlin between 1997 and 2001, where they met in the co-op kitchen. Both natives of Puget Sound, Jewell and Pruiksma bonded over nostalgia for the misty rain of the Northwest and their mutual passion for music. Pruiksma, an environmental studies major, coordinated the co-op’s local food program, buying produce from the region’s Amish farmers. Jewell, a math and music major, was the pizza chef.
Before long, Jewell joined Pruiksma on her buying trips to the country, where they visited farms and marveled at the self-sufficient lifestyle of the Amish farmers.
“They were really inspiring,” said Pruiksma. “They lived close to the land in a tight cohesive community. … There was something very attractive about their hands-on life.”
Though Pruiksma and Jewell grew up as urban dwellers, in Seattle and Bellingham respectively, they began to ponder how they, too, could be in community while living rooted to the land.
“We were studying things in school that were so theoretical — we really wanted to learn these skills connected to place,” Jewell said. “At the same time we were studying all the problems in the world, the big name issues of climate change, breakdown of communities, destruction of farmland. … We decided we’d rather be part of the solution.”
Like so many times to come for this adventurous couple, one experience led to the next. Junior year, Jewell and Pruiksma traveled the world visiting five countries as part of a global ecology program. At a collective called Timbaktu, a volunteer organization working for sustainable development in a drought-prone area of India, Jewell and Pruiksma were again inspired by what they saw. The collective had re-instituted traditional methods to retain water, transforming what had become a desert into the forest it once was.
But it wasn’t just the ecological restoration that the young couple found inspirational; it was also the way the people in the collective went about their work, using music and dance to build a community. When Jewell and Pruiksma arrived, they recalled, some of the local musicians put on a traditional dance for them.
“Music seemed like such an essential part of what they were doing,” Jewell said. “And they weren’t only trying to rebuild a place, they were trying to rebuild a community that could take care of the place.”
Returning to the Northwest after college, the duo dreamed of living life like the communities they visited, but they didn’t know where or how. That’s when serendipity intervened. A call from Amy Bogaard of Hogsback Farm brought the couple to Vashon. Bogaard is a friend of Jewell’s aunt and uncle, Joanne Jewell and Rob Pederson, owners Plum Forest Farm; she contacted them in search of interns, learned of Jewell and Pruiksma and thought they’d be ideal.
Jewell and Pruiksma accepted, and the job turned out to be an opportunity for them to learn an essential foundation for their vision: how to grow food.
When the internship ended, the couple took what looked like a detour on their path to sustainable living, choosing to walk the Pacific Crest Trail from southern Oregon to Canada. Influenced by the self-sufficient farmers back in Ohio, they sewed much of their own gear, fashioning mosquito-proof clothing, a lightweight tent and backpack.
In the middle of the preparation, Pruiksma remembered watching Jewell walk across the meadow at Plum Forest Farm, where they were living, with a bundle of sticks. An enthusiastic Jewell told Pruiksma that he’d learned how to construct a yurt and thought they should build one.
With a gentle nod towards her partner, Pruiksma noted that Jewell knows how to dream and see what’s possible while she has the slow staying power, and that makes for a very good partnership. So before leaving for the Pacific Crest Trail, together they built a small yurt — once again, with no notion of where the project would lead.
Determined to do the Pacific Crest Trail mostly by their own human power, Jewell and Pruiksma set off from Vashon on their old middle school bicycles, riding down the coast for a month and ending up in Ashland, where they shipped the bikes home and began the 1,000-mile hike.
“It was this whole process of slowing down,” Pruiksma said. “Walking is a perfect time for dreaming. We didn’t know it then, but it was really a pivotal time.”
Upon their return, in 2005, they began construction of a larger yurt. The smaller one now serves as Jewell’s music and tutoring studio.
And in 2008, again in an effort to re-create the beauty and wisdom of that collective in India, Jewell and Pruiksma decided to form the Free Range Folk Choir, an a cappella group that performs world music in four- and five-part harmony. The economic downturn was beginning to hit Vashon, the couple recalled, and they saw the choir as a way to lift spirits and foster community, just as music had in India.
Consider first where they live: Tucked behind Plum Forest Farm, past wooden gates, a chicken coop and several Scottish Highland cows, sits a pair of yurts, the couple’s home and music studio. Inside, the hand-made feel begins with the warm patina of the hand-packed earthen cob floor on up to the hand-bent poles supporting the hand-sewn cover.
Then look around: There’s the folding rocking chair Pruiksma made. Jewell’s handcrafted 17-foot umiak. The beloved hurdy-gurdy he built. A sturdy worm bin Pruiksma crafted.
They don’t own a car. A wood-fired cookstove heats the hot water tank. They power their washing machine by pedaling a stationary bicycle. Energy for their electric chainsaw and rototiller comes from the sun. Their 1920s-era treadle sewing machine — gifted to them by an Islander — is a steady workhorse.
And these days, as they ready themselves for Vashon’s 29th annual Art Studio Tour this weekend, their handcrafted lives are on display more than ever. Hand-dipped beeswax candles — made in part from beeswax they collected on Vashon — line a table. Etched-glass candle holders and pendant necklaces line another. And Pruiksma’s speciality — delicately decorated Ukrainian eggs that have begun to draw repeat visitors to their small yurt — are being readied for the tour.
Saturday and Sunday, when visitors follow the narrow path to Jewell and Pruiksma’s yurt, they’ll likely find Pruiksma bent over a blown egg, a candle to warm her kitska — or hot wax pen — glowing softly next to her, as she plies her craft.
The two enjoy the studio tour, as it’s a chance, they note, to connect with friends and neighbors. But more often than not, it’s also an opportunity for them to talk about the lifestyle they’ve chosen and the philosophy that imbues it.
“We get people who come and see the large picture of it, and it kind of fires them up. And others look a little confused by it,” Pruiksma noted. “We end up talking a lot about our space as well as our art, because so much of what we do is part of a larger picture, … part of our effort to live in a way that’s a lot lower impact.”
If anyone on Vashon could be said to piece a life together, Shane Jewell and Emily Pruiksma, both 33, could. He teaches at the Homestead School; she works two days a week at Vashon Library. He offers music lessons to a dozen or two students in 10 different instruments. She builds and sells worm bins. Together, they grow much of their own food.
Fourteen years ago, Jewell and Pruiksma never imagined they’d be living life off the grid in a hand-crafted yurt on a small organic farm. But that was before they staffed the 600-member food co-op kitchen of Oberlin College in Ohio.
The couple attended Oberlin between 1997 and 2001, where they met in the co-op kitchen. Both natives of Puget Sound, Jewell and Pruiksma bonded over nostalgia for the misty rain of the Northwest and their mutual passion for music. Pruiksma, an environmental studies major, coordinated the co-op’s local food program, buying produce from the region’s Amish farmers. Jewell, a math and music major, was the pizza chef.
Before long, Jewell joined Pruiksma on her buying trips to the country, where they visited farms and marveled at the self-sufficient lifestyle of the Amish farmers.
“They were really inspiring,” said Pruiksma. “They lived close to the land in a tight cohesive community. … There was something very attractive about their hands-on life.”
Though Pruiksma and Jewell grew up as urban dwellers, in Seattle and Bellingham respectively, they began to ponder how they, too, could be in community while living rooted to the land.
“We were studying things in school that were so theoretical — we really wanted to learn these skills connected to place,” Jewell said. “At the same time we were studying all the problems in the world, the big name issues of climate change, breakdown of communities, destruction of farmland. … We decided we’d rather be part of the solution.”
Like so many times to come for this adventurous couple, one experience led to the next. Junior year, Jewell and Pruiksma traveled the world visiting five countries as part of a global ecology program. At a collective called Timbaktu, a volunteer organization working for sustainable development in a drought-prone area of India, Jewell and Pruiksma were again inspired by what they saw. The collective had re-instituted traditional methods to retain water, transforming what had become a desert into the forest it once was.
But it wasn’t just the ecological restoration that the young couple found inspirational; it was also the way the people in the collective went about their work, using music and dance to build a community. When Jewell and Pruiksma arrived, they recalled, some of the local musicians put on a traditional dance for them.
“Music seemed like such an essential part of what they were doing,” Jewell said. “And they weren’t only trying to rebuild a place, they were trying to rebuild a community that could take care of the place.”
Returning to the Northwest after college, the duo dreamed of living life like the communities they visited, but they didn’t know where or how. That’s when serendipity intervened. A call from Amy Bogaard of Hogsback Farm brought the couple to Vashon. Bogaard is a friend of Jewell’s aunt and uncle, Joanne Jewell and Rob Pederson, owners Plum Forest Farm; she contacted them in search of interns, learned of Jewell and Pruiksma and thought they’d be ideal.
Jewell and Pruiksma accepted, and the job turned out to be an opportunity for them to learn an essential foundation for their vision: how to grow food.
When the internship ended, the couple took what looked like a detour on their path to sustainable living, choosing to walk the Pacific Crest Trail from southern Oregon to Canada. Influenced by the self-sufficient farmers back in Ohio, they sewed much of their own gear, fashioning mosquito-proof clothing, a lightweight tent and backpack.
In the middle of the preparation, Pruiksma remembered watching Jewell walk across the meadow at Plum Forest Farm, where they were living, with a bundle of sticks. An enthusiastic Jewell told Pruiksma that he’d learned how to construct a yurt and thought they should build one.
With a gentle nod towards her partner, Pruiksma noted that Jewell knows how to dream and see what’s possible while she has the slow staying power, and that makes for a very good partnership. So before leaving for the Pacific Crest Trail, together they built a small yurt — once again, with no notion of where the project would lead.
Determined to do the Pacific Crest Trail mostly by their own human power, Jewell and Pruiksma set off from Vashon on their old middle school bicycles, riding down the coast for a month and ending up in Ashland, where they shipped the bikes home and began the 1,000-mile hike.
“It was this whole process of slowing down,” Pruiksma said. “Walking is a perfect time for dreaming. We didn’t know it then, but it was really a pivotal time.”
Upon their return, in 2005, they began construction of a larger yurt. The smaller one now serves as Jewell’s music and tutoring studio.
And in 2008, again in an effort to re-create the beauty and wisdom of that collective in India, Jewell and Pruiksma decided to form the Free Range Folk Choir, an a cappella group that performs world music in four- and five-part harmony. The economic downturn was beginning to hit Vashon, the couple recalled, and they saw the choir as a way to lift spirits and foster community, just as music had in India.
2011年4月19日星期二
Morris County couple find raising their own poultry safer
As a young publicist in New York City, Abby Ray never pictured a future in farming.
But as Ray, 26, grew more interested in both food safety issues and her fiance, nursery owner Thomas Gallo, 26, she found herself moving to the farm-friendly suburbs of Harding Township, Morris County, and becoming the proud co-owner of six chickens and a few hundred fresh eggs.
"I grew up in Maine, with cats. We were afraid of chickens," said Ray, who now runs the blog EcoMoTown, about the environmental movement in and around Morristown. Ray doesn't eat industrially raised meat because of safety concerns, and grows her own vegetable garden near the chicken coop.
"She was all, "spiders and smells,' " Gallo said laughing, noting that he grew up with animals and thought it would be a good idea to have them at their shared home. "I convinced her."
Ray and Gallo are just two of many first-time chicken owners reviving backyard chicken keeping in New Jersey, a trend that has grown as people become aware of potential dangers in agribusiness, explained Rutgers professor Michael Westendorf.
"I think food security is a big issue," said Westendorf, a Rutgers Extension Specialist in animal sciences. "When you're reliant on trucks coming across the Delaware River to bring you eggs, I for one feel safer having some egg production be local."
Westendorf said his office has received an increase in calls in the past 10 years from residents looking for advice on starting their own backyard flocks.
"I think people want to produce their own food if they can, buy local food if they can, and get back to a simple way of life," Westendorf said.
For Middletown resident Mary Hussey, food safety issues were only the gateway to her chicken keeping. She now shows her flock in poultry competitions around the country.
"Initially, it's a food thing. When you don't have chickens, you don't know what you're getting into, but you know you're afraid of the food," Hussey said.
Chickens are now the fastest-growing segment of the pet population, said Kurry Walsh, manager of Rick's Saddle Shop, with locations throughout Monmouth County. The store recently started selling baby chicks each spring.
"If you'd have told me five years ago that people would want to buy chickens, I wouldn't have believed you," Walsh said. "The good thing about buying chickens is that you know there are no chemicals going into the egg. When you buy Perdue at the store, you don't know what's in those, and you probably don't want to, but with your own chickens, you control what goes in."
Hens generally lay one egg every day until they reach about two years old, when production decreases, Hussey said. They're also helpful for tilling gardens, producing compost, and controlling pests, and are often raised for meat, Walsh said.
Owning chickens isn't for everyone, warns Hussey, and the decision must come with a lot of planning.
"Do your research first, don't get an animal on a whim," Hussey said. "Take time to build or buy a coop or run first, and make sure it's secure, ventilated, and draft-free."
Gallo, who built his coop for about $300 out of wood and fencing, said he lost his first flock to raccoons because of gaps in the chicken wire.
"The second time, I made sure it was sealed up. I buried the fence six inches into the ground and zip tied the top together," he said. The biggest predators for chickens are hawks, foxes and raccoons, he said.
Gallo said he cleans his coop out completely four times a year, replacing the wood chips and hosing down the roosting boxes. When clean and well-ventilated, a chicken coop shouldn't have any odor, Hussey said. And when healthy and happy, chickens shouldn't make any discernible noise.
"I've had neighbors that didn't even know I kept chickens," Hussey said of her flock.
In return for the upkeep, a flock of six hens (no rooster is necessary for egg laying) will yield a dozen eggs every two days. Eggs can keep, unwashed, in the refrigerator for up to six months because of a special sealant on them, Hussey explained. Different breeds produce different eggs, including white, brown, and even green, but inside, she said, "an egg is an egg is an egg."
Walsh emphasized that a fresh farmed egg is a different thing altogether than a supermarket egg, noting the "orange color, and a real egg taste." Ray said a fresh egg "stands together" when cracked open, while supermarket eggs tend to run flat when cracked.
As chicken keeping grows in popularity, many towns are enacting ordinances regulating where and how they can be kept. In Bloomsbury, Hunterdon County, the borough council passed an ordinance in March to legalize chicken keeping. Borough clerk Lisa Burd said people had been keeping chickens for years until a noise complaint arose, and the council took action to ensure people could continue to raise chickens.
Westendorf, of Rutgers, said most residents in New Jersey with a backyard and a good lawn can keep chickens without any environmental problems, and said he has worked with residents who are trying to convince their towns to let them have chickens.
"If you're going to have six chickens in the backyard, it's not going to be a problem," he said.
Once residents understand their local laws, set up a coop with food and water, and buy their birds, the rest is easy, Gallo said. "There's not much to learn," he said. "Just do it." For Ray, it's a long way from her life in the city, but leading a more sustainable life and being a better consumer are rewarding trade-offs.
"We have friends with kids who come over, and the kids chase the chickens around," Ray said. "And now, when we go to someone's house, instead of wine, we bring a dozen eggs."
But as Ray, 26, grew more interested in both food safety issues and her fiance, nursery owner Thomas Gallo, 26, she found herself moving to the farm-friendly suburbs of Harding Township, Morris County, and becoming the proud co-owner of six chickens and a few hundred fresh eggs.
"I grew up in Maine, with cats. We were afraid of chickens," said Ray, who now runs the blog EcoMoTown, about the environmental movement in and around Morristown. Ray doesn't eat industrially raised meat because of safety concerns, and grows her own vegetable garden near the chicken coop.
"She was all, "spiders and smells,' " Gallo said laughing, noting that he grew up with animals and thought it would be a good idea to have them at their shared home. "I convinced her."
Ray and Gallo are just two of many first-time chicken owners reviving backyard chicken keeping in New Jersey, a trend that has grown as people become aware of potential dangers in agribusiness, explained Rutgers professor Michael Westendorf.
"I think food security is a big issue," said Westendorf, a Rutgers Extension Specialist in animal sciences. "When you're reliant on trucks coming across the Delaware River to bring you eggs, I for one feel safer having some egg production be local."
Westendorf said his office has received an increase in calls in the past 10 years from residents looking for advice on starting their own backyard flocks.
"I think people want to produce their own food if they can, buy local food if they can, and get back to a simple way of life," Westendorf said.
For Middletown resident Mary Hussey, food safety issues were only the gateway to her chicken keeping. She now shows her flock in poultry competitions around the country.
"Initially, it's a food thing. When you don't have chickens, you don't know what you're getting into, but you know you're afraid of the food," Hussey said.
Chickens are now the fastest-growing segment of the pet population, said Kurry Walsh, manager of Rick's Saddle Shop, with locations throughout Monmouth County. The store recently started selling baby chicks each spring.
"If you'd have told me five years ago that people would want to buy chickens, I wouldn't have believed you," Walsh said. "The good thing about buying chickens is that you know there are no chemicals going into the egg. When you buy Perdue at the store, you don't know what's in those, and you probably don't want to, but with your own chickens, you control what goes in."
Hens generally lay one egg every day until they reach about two years old, when production decreases, Hussey said. They're also helpful for tilling gardens, producing compost, and controlling pests, and are often raised for meat, Walsh said.
Owning chickens isn't for everyone, warns Hussey, and the decision must come with a lot of planning.
"Do your research first, don't get an animal on a whim," Hussey said. "Take time to build or buy a coop or run first, and make sure it's secure, ventilated, and draft-free."
Gallo, who built his coop for about $300 out of wood and fencing, said he lost his first flock to raccoons because of gaps in the chicken wire.
"The second time, I made sure it was sealed up. I buried the fence six inches into the ground and zip tied the top together," he said. The biggest predators for chickens are hawks, foxes and raccoons, he said.
Gallo said he cleans his coop out completely four times a year, replacing the wood chips and hosing down the roosting boxes. When clean and well-ventilated, a chicken coop shouldn't have any odor, Hussey said. And when healthy and happy, chickens shouldn't make any discernible noise.
"I've had neighbors that didn't even know I kept chickens," Hussey said of her flock.
In return for the upkeep, a flock of six hens (no rooster is necessary for egg laying) will yield a dozen eggs every two days. Eggs can keep, unwashed, in the refrigerator for up to six months because of a special sealant on them, Hussey explained. Different breeds produce different eggs, including white, brown, and even green, but inside, she said, "an egg is an egg is an egg."
Walsh emphasized that a fresh farmed egg is a different thing altogether than a supermarket egg, noting the "orange color, and a real egg taste." Ray said a fresh egg "stands together" when cracked open, while supermarket eggs tend to run flat when cracked.
As chicken keeping grows in popularity, many towns are enacting ordinances regulating where and how they can be kept. In Bloomsbury, Hunterdon County, the borough council passed an ordinance in March to legalize chicken keeping. Borough clerk Lisa Burd said people had been keeping chickens for years until a noise complaint arose, and the council took action to ensure people could continue to raise chickens.
Westendorf, of Rutgers, said most residents in New Jersey with a backyard and a good lawn can keep chickens without any environmental problems, and said he has worked with residents who are trying to convince their towns to let them have chickens.
"If you're going to have six chickens in the backyard, it's not going to be a problem," he said.
Once residents understand their local laws, set up a coop with food and water, and buy their birds, the rest is easy, Gallo said. "There's not much to learn," he said. "Just do it." For Ray, it's a long way from her life in the city, but leading a more sustainable life and being a better consumer are rewarding trade-offs.
"We have friends with kids who come over, and the kids chase the chickens around," Ray said. "And now, when we go to someone's house, instead of wine, we bring a dozen eggs."
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