TALKS ON MANURES A SERIES OF FAMILIAR AND PRACTICAL TALKS BETWEEN THE AUTHOR AND THE DEACON, THE DOCTOR, AND OTHER NEIGHBORS, ON THE WHOLE SUBJECT TEXT

In regard to the application of manure on a dairy-farm, we have seen what Harris Lewis does with his. I also wrote to T. L. Harison, Esq., of St. Lawrence Co., N.Y.; and knowing that he is not only a very intelligent farmer and breeder, but also one of our best agricultural writers, I asked him if he had written anything on the subject of manures. “St. Lawrence Co.,” said the Deacon, “produces capital grass, oats, and barley, but is, I should think, too far north for winter wheat; but what did Mr Harison say?”--Here is his letter: “I never wrote anything about manure. Catch me at it! Nor do I know anything about the management of barn-yard manure worth telling. My own practice is dictated quite as much by convenience as by considerations of economy.” “Good,” said the Deacon; “he writes like a sensible man.” “My rotation,” he continues, “is such that the bulk of the manure made is applied to _one crop_; that is, to my hoed crops, corn, potatoes, and roots, in the second year. “The manure from the stables is thrown or wheeled out under the sheds adjoining, and as fast as it becomes so large a quantity as to be in the way, or whenever there is an opportunity, it is hauled out to the field, where it is to be used, and put in large piles. It is turned once, if possible, in the spring, and then spread. “The quantity applied, is, as near as may be, 25 loads per acre; but as we use a great deal of straw, we haul out 30 loads, and estimate that in the spring it will be about 25 loads. “If we have any more (and occasionally we have 100 loads over), we pile it near the barn, and turn it once or twice during the summer, and use it as seems most profitable--sometimes to top-dress an old grass-field, that for some reason we prefer not to break for another year. Sometimes it goes on a piece of fall wheat, and sometimes is kept over for a barley field the following spring, and harrowed in just before sowing. “I should spread the manure as it comes from the sheds, instead of piling it, but the great quantity of snow we usually have, has always seemed to be an insuperable obstacle. It is an advantage to pile it, and to give it one turning, but, on the other hand, the piles made in cold weather freeze through, and they take a provokingly long time to thaw out in the spring. I never found manure _piled_ out of doors to get too much water from rain. “I have given up using gypsum, except a little in the stables, because the clover grows too strong without it, and so long as this is the case, I do not need gypsum. But I sometimes have a piece of oats or barley that stands still, and looks sick, and a dose of gypsum helps it very much.” “That is a fact worth remembering,” said the Deacon. “I use some superphosphate,” continues Mr. Harison, “and some ground bones on my turnips. We also use superphosphate on oats, barley, and wheat (about 200 lbs. per acre), and find it pays. Last year, our estimate was, on 10 acres of oats, comparing with a strip in the middle, left for the purpose, that the 200 lbs. of superphosphate increased the crop 15 bushels per acre, and gave a gain in quality. It was the “Manhattan,” which has about three per cent ammonia, and seven to eight per cent soluble phosphoric acid. “My rotation, which I stick to as close as I can, is: 1, oats; 2, corn, and potatoes, and roots; 3, barley or spring wheat; 4, 5, and 6, grass (clover or timothy, with a little mixture occasionally). “I am trying to get to 4, fall wheat, but it is mighty risky.” “That is a very sensible letter,” said the Deacon; “but it is evident that he raises more grain than I supposed was generally the case in the dairy districts; and the fact that his clover is so heavy that he does not need plaster, indicates that his land is rich.” It merely confirms what I have said all along, and that is, that the dairymen, if they will feed their animals liberally, and cultivate their soil thoroughly, can soon have productive farms. There are very few of us in this section who can make manure enough to give all our corn, potatoes, and roots, 25 loads of rotted manure per acre, and have some to spare. In the spring of 1877, Mr. Harison wrote: “I have been hauling out manure all winter as fast as made, and putting it on the land. At first we spread it; but when deep snows came, we put it in small heaps. The field looks as if there had been a grain crop on it left uncut.” “That last remark,” said the Doctor, “indicates that the manure looks more like straw than well-rotted dung, and is an argument in favor of your plan of piling the manure in the yard or field, instead of spreading it on the land, or putting it in small heaps.” CHAPTER XXIII. MANAGEMENT OF MANURES ON GRAIN-FARMS. “I am surprised to find,” said the Deacon, “that Mr. Harison, living as he does in the great grass and dairy district of this State, should raise so much grain. He has nearly as large a proportion of his land under the plow as some of the best wheat-growers of Western New York.” This remark of the Deacon is right to the point. The truth is, that some of our best wheat-growers are plowing less land, and are raising more grass, and keeping more stock; and some of the dairymen, though not keeping less stock, are plowing more land. The better farmers of both sections are approaching each other. At all events, it is certain that the wheat growers will keep more stock. I wrote to the Hon. Geo. Geddes, of Onondaga Co., N.Y., well known as a large wheat-grower, and as a life-long advocate of keeping up the fertility of our farms by growing clover. He replies as follows: “I regret that I have not time to give your letter the consideration it deserves. The subject you have undertaken is truly a difficult one. The circumstances of a grain-raiser and a dairyman are so unlike, that their views in regard to the treatment of the manure produced on the farm would vary as greatly as the lines of farming they follow. “The grain-grower has straw in excess; he tries hard to get it into such form that he can draw it to his fields, and get it at work, at the least cost in labor. So he covers his barn-yards deep with straw, after each snow-storm, and gets his cattle, sheep, and horses, to trample it under foot; and he makes his pigs convert all he can into such form that it will do to apply it to his pastures, etc., in winter or early spring. “A load of such manure is large, perhaps, but of no very great value, as compared with well-rotted stable-manure from grain-fed horses; but it is as good as much that I have seen drawn from city stables, and carried far, to restore the worn-out hay-fields on the shores of the North River--in fact, quite like it. “The dairyman, generally, has but little straw, and his manure is mostly dung of cows, worth much more, per cord, than the straw-litter of the grain-growers. “The grain-grower will want no sheds for keeping off the rain, but, rather, he will desire more water than will fall on an open yard. The milkman will wish to protect his cow-dung from all rains, or even snows; so he is a great advocate of manure-sheds. These two classes of farmers will adopt quite unlike methods of applying their manure to crops. “I have cited these two classes of farmers, simply to show the difficulty of making any universal laws in regard to the treatment and use of barn-yard manure. * * * “I think you and I are fully agreed in regard to the farm being the true source of the manure that is to make the land grow better with use, and still produce crops--perhaps you will go with me so far as to say, the greater the crops, the more manure they will make--and the more manure, the larger the crops. “Now, I object to any special farming, when applied to a whole great division of country, such as merely raising grain, or devoted entirely to dairying. “I saw at Rome, N.Y., these two leading branches of New York farming united on the Huntington tract of 1,300 acres. Three or four farms (I forget which) had separate and distinct management, conducted by different families, but each had a dairy combined with the raising of large crops of grain, such as wheat, corn, oats, etc. These grain-crops, with suitable areas of meadow and pasture, sustained the dairy, and the cows converted much of the grain, and all of the forage, into manure. Thus was combined, to mutual advantage, these two important branches of New York farming. Wheat and cheese to sell, and constant improvement in crops. “In our own case, sheep have been combined with grain-raising. So we have sold wool, wheat, and barley, and, in all my life, not five tons of hay. Clover, you know, has been our great forage-crop. We have wintered our sheep mostly on clover-hay, having some timothy mixed with it, that was necessarily cut (to make into hay with the medium, or early clover,) when it was but grass. We have fed such hay to our cows and horses, and have usually worked into manure the corn-stalks of about 20 acres of good corn, each winter, and we have worked all the straw into shape to apply as manure that we could, spreading it thickly on pastures and such other fields as were convenient. Some straw we have sold, mostly to paper-makers.” “That,” said the Deacon, “is good, old-fashioned farming. Plenty of straw for bedding, and good clover and timothy-hay for feed, with wool, wheat, and barley to sell. No talk about oil-cake, malt-combs, and mangels; nothing about superphosphate, guano, or swamp-muck.” Mr. Geddes and Mr. Johnston are both representative farmers; both are large wheat-growers; both keep their land clean and thoroughly cultivated; both use gypsum freely; both raise large crops of clover and timothy; both keep sheep, and yet they represent two entirely different systems of farming. One is the great advocate of clover; the other is the great advocate of manure. I once wrote to Mr. Geddes, asking his opinion as to the best time to plow under clover for wheat. He replied as follows: “Plow under the clover when it is at full growth. But your question can much better be answered at the end of a long, free talk, which can best be had here. I have many times asked you to come here, not to see fine farming, for we have none to show, but to see land that has been used to test the effects of clover for nearly 70 years. On the ground, I could talk to a willing auditor long, if not wisely. I am getting tired of being misunderstood, and of having my statements doubted when I talk about clover as the great renovator of land. You preach agricultural truth, and the facts you would gather in this neighborhood are worth your knowing, and worth giving to the world. So come here and gather some facts about clover. All that I shall try to prove to you is, that the fact that clover and plaster are by far the cheapest manures that can be had for our lands, has been demonstrated by many farmers beyond a doubt--so much cheaper than barn-yard manure that the mere loading of and spreading costs more than the plaster and clover. Do not quote me as saying this, but come and see the farms hereabouts, and talk with our farmers.” Of course I went, and had a capital time. Mr. Geddes has a magnificent farm of about 400 acres, some four miles from Syracuse. It is in high condition, and is continually improving, and this is due to growing large and frequent crops of clover, and _to good, deep plowing, and clean and thorough culture_. We drove round among the farmers. “Here is a man,” said Mr. G., “who run in debt $45 per acre for his farm. He has educated his family, paid off his debt, and reports his net profits at from $2,000 to $2,500 a year on a farm of 90 acres; and this is due to clover. You see he is building a new barn, and that does not look as though his land was running down under the system.” The next farmer we came to was also putting up a new barn, and another farmer was enlarging an old one. “Now, these farmers have never paid a dollar for manure of any kind except plaster, and their lands certainly do not deteriorate.” From Syracuse, I went to Geneva, to see our old friend John Johnston. “Why did you not tell me you were coming?” he said. “I would have met you at the cars. But I am right glad to see you. I want to show you my wheat, where I put on 250 lbs. of guano per acre last fall. People here don’t know that I used it, and you must not mention it. It is grand.” I do not know that I ever saw a finer piece of wheat. It was the Diehl variety, sown 14th September, at the rate of 1¼ bushels per acre. It was quite thick enough. One breadth of the drill was sown at the rate of two bushels per acre. This is earlier. “But,” said Mr. J., “the other will have larger heads, and will yield more.” After examining the wheat, we went to look at the piles of muck and manure in the barn-yard, and from these to a splendid crop of timothy. “It will go 2½ tons of hay per acre,” said Mr. J., “and now look at this adjoining field. It is just as good land naturally, and there is merely a fence between, and yet the grass and clover are so poor as hardly to be worth cutting.” “What makes the difference?” I asked. Mr. Johnston, emphatically, “Manure.” The poor field did not belong to him! Mr. Johnston’s farm was originally a cold, wet, clayey soil. Mr. Geddes’ land did not need draining, or very little. Of course, land that needs draining, is richer after it is drained, than land that is naturally drained. And though Mr. Johnston was always a good farmer, yet he says he “never made money until he commenced to drain.” The accumulated fertility in the land could then be made available by good tillage, and from that day to this, his land has been growing richer and richer. And, in fact, the same is true of Mr. Geddes’ farm. It is richer land to-day than when first plowed, while there is one field that for seventy years has had no manure applied to it, except plaster. How is this to be explained? Mr. Geddes would say it was due to clover and plaster. But this does not fully satisfy those who claim, (and truly), that “always taking out of the meal-tub and never putting in, soon comes to the bottom.” The clover can add nothing to the land, that it did not get from the soil, except organic matter obtained from the atmosphere, and the plaster furnishes little or nothing except lime and sulphuric acid. There are all the other ingredients of plant-food to be accounted for--phosphoric acid, potash, soda, magnesia, etc. A crop of clover, or corn, or wheat, or barley, or oats, will not come to perfection unless every one of these elements is present in the soil in an available condition. Mr. Geddes has not furnished a single ounce of any one of them. “Where do they come from?” I answer, _from the soil itself_. There is probably enough of these elements in the soil to last ten thousand years; and if we return to the soil all the straw, chaff, and bran, and sell nothing but fine flour, meat, butter, etc., there is probably enough to last a million years, and you and I need not trouble ourselves with speculations as to what will happen after that time. Nearly all our soils are practically inexhaustible. But of course these elements are not in an available condition. If they were, the rains would wash them all into the ocean. They are rendered available by a kind of fermentation. A manure-heap packed as hard and solid as a rock would not decay; but break it up, make it fine, turn it occasionally so as to expose it to the atmosphere, and with the proper degree of moisture and heat it will ferment rapidly, and all its elements will soon become available food for plants. Nothing has been created by the process. It was all there. We have simply made it _available_. So it is with the soil. Break it up, make it fine, turn it occasionally, expose it to the atmosphere, and the elements it contains become available. I do not think that Mr. Geddes’ land is any better, naturally, than yours or mine. We can all raise fair crops by cultivating the land thoroughly, and by never allowing a weed to grow. On Mr. Lawes’ experimental wheat-field, the plot that has never received a particle of manure, produces _every year_ an average of about 15 bushels per acre. And the whole crop is removed--grain, straw, and chaff. Nothing is returned. And that the land is not remarkably rich, is evident from the fact that some of the farms in the neighborhood, produce, under the ordinary system of management, but little more wheat, once in four or five years than is raised _every year_ on this experimental plot without any manure. Why? Because these farmers do not half work their land, and the manure they make is little better than rotten straw. Mr. Lawes’ wheat-field is plowed twice every year, and when I was there, the crop was hand-hoed two or three times in the spring. Not a weed is suffered to grow. And this is all there is to it. Now, of course, instead of raising 15 bushels of wheat every year, it is a good deal better to raise a crop of 30 bushels every other year, and still better to raise 45 bushels every third year. And it is here that clover comes to our aid. It will enable us to do this very thing, and the land runs no greater risk of exhaustion than Mr. Lawes’ unmanured wheat crop. Mr. Geddes and I do not differ as much as you suppose. In fact, I do not believe that we differ at all. He has for years been an earnest advocate for growing clover as a renovating crop. He thinks it by far the cheapest manure that can be obtained in this section. I agree with him most fully in all these particulars. He formed his opinion from experience and observation. I derived mine from the Rothamsted experiments. And the more I see of practical farming, the more am I satisfied of their truth. Clover is, unquestionably, the great renovating crop of American agriculture. A crop of clover, equal to two tons of hay, when plowed under, will furnish more ammonia to the soil than twenty tons of straw-made manure, drawn out fresh and wet in the spring, or than twelve tons of our ordinary barn-yard manure. No wonder Mr. Geddes and other intelligent farmers recommend plowing under clover as manure. I differ from them in no respect except this: that it is not absolutely essential to plow clover under in the green state in order to get its fertilizing effect; but, if made into hay, and this hay is fed to animals, and all the manure carefully saved, and returned to the land, there need be comparatively little loss. The animals will seldom take out more than from five to ten per cent of all the nitrogen furnished in the food--and less still of mineral matter. I advocate growing all the clover you possibly can--so does Mr. Geddes. He says, plow it under for manure. So say I--unless you can make more from feeding out the clover-hay, than will pay you for waiting a year, and for cutting and curing the clover and drawing back the manure. If you plow it under, you are sure of it. There is no loss. In feeding it out, you may lose more or less from leaching, and injurious fermentation. But, of course, you need not lose anything, except the little that is retained in the flesh, or wool, or milk, of the animals. As things _are_ on many farms, it is perhaps best to plow under the clover for manure at once. As things ought to be, it is a most wasteful practice. If you know how to feed out the hay to advantage, and take pains to save the manure (and to add to its value by feeding oil-cake, bran, etc., with it), it is far better to mow your clover, once for hay, and once for seed, than to plow it under. Buy oil-cake and bran with the money got from the seed, and growing clover-seed will not injure the land. I am glad to hear that Mr. Geddes occasionally sells straw. I once sold 15 tons of straw to the paper-makers for $150, they drawing it themselves, and some of my neighbors criticised me severely for doing so. It is not considered an orthodox practice. I do not advocate selling