Chat with Wild Fibers publisher

A couple weeks ago, I was surfing the Web and found this amazing magazine that reports on fiber animals. We're not just talking sheep and goats here. No, they travel the world visiting with people who raise animals that produce all sorts of fiber -- from alpaca to qiviut to yaks! As soon as I found the magazine, I thought of all of you. I know a lot of my readers love fiber, fiber animals, and fiber art. So, today we're visiting with Wild Fibers editor and publisher Linda Cortright, pictured above with a qiviut. I've asked her a few questions, and she's agreed to pop in a few times today to answer any questions that you have! Also, Linda is offering a 20% subscription discount to Antiquity Oaks readers who call in their subscription today!

Deborah: Which came first, your interest in fibers or fiber animals, and how did that happen?

Linda: I am one of those people who grew up knitting Fisherman’s sweaters from scratchy Irish wool. This was back in the days when the wool actually came from Ireland, and not Australia or New Zealand as most of it does now. Although I loved to knit, that particular experience didn’t get me terribly juiced about fibers. When I was in my late thirties, I made one of those “don’t look back” career changes and moved from suburban Philadelphia to rural Maine. I bought four cashmere goats, which simultaneously launched my ridiculous passion for fibers.

Deborah: Why did you decide to start a magazine devoted to fiber animals?

Linda: Wild Fibers is truly the byproduct of my own nosiness. Every time I would take my goats to a show, I would jump around the animal pens talking with other fiber folk. Hasn’t everyone done a little “tire-kicking” down the alpaca aisle at least once? I was fascinated by the histories of the different animals from around the world, and yet all of the publications only focused on a specific breed. “The Camelid Quarterly,” for example, is wonderful; but as a casual enthusiast, I don’t need to know how to trim llama hooves or build a holding pen. Wild Fibers has always been focused on different cultural traditions surrounding the fiber industry and less about the “how to” aspect of the industry.

Deborah: Do you have a background in publishing or journalism?

Linda: Obviously not, can’t you tell from all the typos? To this day I don’t really consider myself a writer. Even if I slept with Strunk and White under my pillow every night for a year, I would still do things with punctuation that would make a fifth grader howl. My professional background includes everything from being a dog groomer in Manhattan to working for CBS. Before I started Wild Fibers I was working for a non-profit on the coast of Maine helping to sustain island communities. My experience at the Island Institute is what gave me a deep appreciation for working with small, indigenous cultures – it is an art unto itself and critical for doing my job.

Deborah: Is there any particular article that will stick with you forever -- you know, the one you'll never forget?

Linda: There are a few articles that I confess every time I read them, they still make me laugh, and I even know the punch line is coming. But there is one article that to this day still puts a lump in my throat, “Surviving the Massacre” is about what happened to the farmers and their animals during the collectivization under Stalin. I had visited with a shepherd in northern Kazakhstan and after four hours it was all I could do not to keep from weeping on the floor. Often times there are parts of my job that are heart wrenching, and frequently, I don’t write about them unless the information can serve some greater good. But so very little has been written about this period in history because it has been buried with so many other Soviet secrets. It was one of the most remarkable interviews and will undoubtedly stay with me forever.

Deborah: Do you have a favorite fiber animal?

Linda: No, of course not… well, maybe one. I adore my cashmere goats, and even if they gave me bags of rug wool I would still feel the same way. I love the character of the goat; mischievous, playful, and equal parts devoted and yet distant. I have never met a goat that didn’t give me the giggles within the first thirty seconds. And on a purely superficial level, I have seen some seriously handsome bucks that would give my tail a twitch, or two!

Deborah: Do you have a favorite fiber art?

Linda: One of the great things about the fiber arts is that they adapt so well to different moods. There are some days when row after row of a complicated lace pattern really satisfies my OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) tendencies. And then, there are days when whacking about a hunk of wet wooly felt feels more satisfying than an extra large dish of ice cream. Unfortunately, sometimes projects get put on hold until I’m back in the right mood. I suppose as long as I stay moody, I won’t ever have a single favorite. Who knows, maybe my knitting is really about hormones.

Deborah: What about a favorite fiber?

Linda: If you looked in my closet you would probably say cashmere, but I think qiviut is the most divine fiber. You can throw it in the washing machine and it doesn’t felt or shrink. Why would anyone ever wear polar fleece when they can toss a qiviut sweater in the dryer? I understand that there’s a wee price difference, but qiviut is exquisitely soft, warm, and it goes to supporting native communities in the Arctic. I try to make informed choices about everything I buy, and though I am a huge proponent of buying local, I truly support efforts that help remote communities whose cultural heritage is in jeopardy. The wonderful thing about the natural fiber industry is that it affords us all the opportunity to help each other in so many wonderful and meaningful ways. How wild is that?

So, now it's your turn! If you have any questions about fiber, fiber animals, or fiber arts, just give Linda a holler in the comment section. And remember, she's only here today (Wednesday) -- and if you call in a subscription today, (207) 594-9455, just tell them you're an Antiquity Oaks reader, and you'll get a 20% discount off the regular subscription price of Wild Fibers.

Adventure in the big city

Before I forget, I want to let everyone know that tomorrow we're having a visitor on the blog. If you love fiber animals or fiber arts, you're going to love this guest!

I've been in Chicago since Sunday, probably driving everyone crazy back on the farm with my phone calls and emails, asking if they've done this or that. They say you worry a lot when you have human kids. Well, when you have a farm, it's even worse. Being a "small" farm, I know each animal and worry about their particular needs. Is Star, my 11-year-old goat, getting enough hay, or are the younger, pushier goats not letting her get her fair share? Did the horses get put back in the pasture after it quit snowing? Are any goats coming into heat? Should we let the llamas onto the back 20 now, or wait until I get home? Are the water buckets being refilled often enough? Are the goats getting their afternoon hay? You get the idea.

I am having a good time in Chicago though. Sunday night, I saw In the Heights, which won the 2008 Tony for best musical, and I can see why. It was excellent! Last night, we saw Jersey Boys, a jukebox musical about Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, which won the 2006 Tony for best musical. Great music, but like most bands, the story is sad at times.

I love eating at locally-owned restaurants that make real food with real ingredients -- things that I might be able to duplicate in my own kitchen. For me, eating out is research, and I find it sadly strange that it's easier to find unique restaurants in cities than small towns. Sunday night, we had a serendipitous moment when we were eating at Quartro, a Spanish-Italian restaurant. The host gave us a warm potato salad, saying that the kitchen accidentally fixed one too many. I would have never ordered this, because it really didn't sound that good, but you can't judge a dish by its menu description. I never would have put chunks of warm potato on top of wilted arugula. I'm not a huge fan of arugula, but I'll eat it if it's hidden in a salad of baby greens. And I've never liked any greens wilted. Eeyew, right? Wrong! Wilted arugula is delicious. Now I want to grow arugula in the garden next spring and duplicate this.

Last night for dinner, we had some excellent green beans at a Chinese restaurant. They were stir-fried with carrots, ginger, cayenne and other spices. We'll definitely duplicate this one. Stir-fried green beans with garlic, red pepper, and soy sauce is already a favorite. I don't know why we didn't think of adding slivers of carrot and ginger. We had another dish with bok choy in it, which made me wonder why we haven't grown bok choy in the past. As much as we love making stir-fried dishes, it seems like it would have been an obvious choice for the garden.

Even though I'm having fun, I'm looking forward to getting back home Thursday, which you'd find odd if you knew me 25 years ago. I grew up in a small Texas town and couldn't wait to spend my weekends in Houston and then move to Connecticut for college. But after living in Connecticut, Rhode Island, Washington State, Florida, Nebraska, and Hawaii, and after visiting 49 states, most of the Canadian provinces, Mexico, and about a dozen European countries, I've found my little Eden on 32 acres on a creek in the middle of nowhere.

Pizza night

Most nights, we sit down around the dinner table and have a proper dinner, but every Friday night, we make homemade pizza and eat it while watching a movie. Everyone in the family knows how to make pizza, so anyone can jump in and start the dough or roll it out or whatever needs to be done to keep pizza night on track. In fact, the kids usually make the pizza without even being reminded.

The dough recipe is taped inside the cabinet above the Kitchen Aid, so it's easy to get everything started on time. To make enough dough for two pizzas, put the follow ingredients into the mixing bowl:

1 1/2 c. water
1 T. yeast
1 T. sugar
1 t. salt
2 T. olive oil
4 to 5 c. flour

If you're using a Kitchen Aid, use your dough hook and mix until the dough forms a ball and no longer sticks to the sides of the bowl. You don't have to let it rise, but if it does rise for 30 minutes or an hour, it will be easier to stretch and roll out on the pizza pan.

Mike is the family mozzarella guru, and we haven't purchased mozzarella in a couple years. When we're really drowning in the milk in the spring and summer, we make extra mozz and freeze it for winter when we might not have the gallon of milk needed to make a batch.

Jonathan is especially good at rolling out the dough and preparing the pizza. Rub olive oil all over your hands to make it easier to handle the dough. (Olive oil is also very good for your skin, so don't wash it off!) Pour sauce to taste on each pizza crust. Newman's pasta sauces make great pizza, if you don't want to make your own sauce. Sprinkle chopped veggies and other toppings on the pizza. Bake for 20-25 minutes at 400 degrees F. Or when doing two pizzas, bake for 11 minutes, rotate pizzas on racks, and bake for an additional 11 minutes.

Pick a movie that the whole family will enjoy, sit back, and enjoy your pizza!

Check out more blogs on meatless meals here!

Christmas food

Since we were going to spend Christmas Day dinner with relatives, and they were planning lasagna, we decided to fix a turkey with all the trimmings on Christmas Eve.

We had one of our heritage turkey hens. It was only six pounds, but still we had left-overs.

And of course, there was bread. This is only the second braided bread I've done (first was on Thanksgiving), so I really want to emphasize how easy this is! Give it a try!

Katherine made chocolate truffles, chocolate-covered walnuts, and chocolate-dipped pretzels.

And we were in charge of dessert for the Christmas Day dinner, so here's the platter that we took. In addition to Katherine's candy, there were homemade Heath bars and peanut butter brownies. We also took decorated Christmas cookies, which were not very pretty, but they tasted delicious, and that's all that's really important.

Now I need to place a moratorium on baking sweets for a couple weeks -- at least!

Christmas flood, snow storm, and recalcitrant cows

Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but . . . there is no but. If you recall, I tried to sell our creek last spring, but I had no takers. So, I guess today's story starts a few days ago when the temperatures went above freezing, and it started raining. The Christmas Flood of '09 now joins the New Years Flood of '08, the 9/11 Flood of '06, the Mothers Day Flood of '02 and a dozen other floods that weren't lucky enough to happen on a holiday and get a name. I've pretty much given up on taking pictures of floods, because they pretty much all look the same. So, if you want to know what it looked like here on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, just click on the "flood" label, and you can check out pictures from previous floods.

Mike spent the end of Christmas Eve and the early part of Christmas Day shop-vaccing out the small barn. The pigs did some serious landscaping, creating a little pond, which caused water and mud to flow into the north side of the smaller barn. We never installed the drain tiles in the pasture or the yard this summer, so part of the bigger barn also flooded. Jonathan sat up with me until almost 1 a.m. Christmas Day, as I waited for Mike who was sucking the water out of the smaller barn. I felt guilty about sitting inside warm and dry, but it really was a one-person job since we only have one ShopVac. At 12:45 a.m., we talked Margaret into going out there to check on him. While she was outside, Jonathan told me that I could be waiting until 3 a.m. Then Margaret came in and said that when she asked her father if he'd be in tonight, he said he didn't know. So, I decided to go to bed close to 2 a.m.

On Christmas Day, the temperature dropped below freezing again, and the precipitation continued. In fact, it continues as I type, so we have a soft powdery snow on top of ice. I've only had lunch -- a late lunch -- and today has been far more exciting than I really enjoy. When I woke up this morning, I saw that the greenhouse had blown over, so Mike and I went out there to pick up all the pots and planting equipment that had blown around the garden, and he put it in one of the barns. I came inside to get warmed up, and I'd only taken off my boots for about five minutes when he came in and said the cows were out. Of course, they were out! The flood had shorted out the electric fence, and they just know when they can escape. They were across the road, so I took a pan of grain out there and lured them back home. We let them into the barn, and then decided it would be a bad idea to let them out the back door, because it swings on hinges, and we're in the middle of a snow storm, remember? I hate it when a 12-foot door gets yanked out of my hand by the wind. So, we decided to put halters on them and take them out the front door (which slides) and put them in the near pasture (which is woven wire). Sounds simple enough, right?

Getting a halter on Molly was not a big deal. However, Bridget has always been easy, and I made the mistake of assuming she would be easy today. Ha! After a couple tries, I realized I'd need help, so Mike put a lead rope around her neck to hold her while I put the halter on her. I was standing behind her head to the right and was planning to pull the halter up over her nose, and buckle it behind her neck. I leaned forward to put the halter over her nose, and just at that moment she jerked her head up. Smack! Mike heard it and said, "What was that?"

"My tooth. Her horn hit my tooth." Then I tasted something salty. Ah, yes, blood. And I realized my lower lip felt numb. I spit like one of those cowboys who'd just been punched in the face in an old western movie. Yep, blood. But I didn't smile the way cowboys do when they realize they're spitting blood. There really is no good place to stand when you're trying to put a halter on a horned cow, and right at that moment, I was thinking about how much I hated horns on cows. I'm definitely getting a polled bull -- genetically hornless -- so hopefully we'll have polled calves. If not, I'll probably dehorn them as calves before their horn buds even start to grow. But I digress. I moved as quickly as I could to get the halter on Bridget, and then we started leading the heifers out of the barn.

When I got to the gate, of course it had to be a challenge to get unlatched. And of course, there just had to be a turkey sitting on the fence next to it. And of course, the turkey just had to decide that she didn't like me invading her space. So, she flaps her two-foot long wings to fly off and smacks me in the face. At that moment, I decided that this was turning into a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. As we walked the cows into the pasture, Mike asks if I think they can get into the goat's stall through that cute little door that he made last month. I look at the heifers and look at the little door. I can barely fit through that door, but I take a good, long look at the heifers and the door again. Nope, no way -- and why would they? We put a flake of hay in the 3-sided shelter for them. What more could they want?

You know what happens next, don't you? I go into the house once again to try to warm up, and I barely have my boots off when I hear Mike scream. Molly has gone through the little goat door. By the time I look out the window, Bridget has followed her. I yell for Katherine to come downstairs and go help her dad get the cows out of the goat stall. I'm ready to warm up in front of the wood stove with a cup of hot cider.
. . . but the fire is so delightful. Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

Goat breeding woes and chuckles

Lizzie the goat and Deborah
Originally uploaded by Antiquity Oaks

The problem is that one of my bucks doesn't appear to be very virile. Frankie didn't seem to be all that excited about breeding the does, and the does are now coming back into heat. Today, Lizzie was in heat, even though she'd been bred to Frankie already. I decided not to waste any more time on Frankie and instead to breed her to Pegasus, whom she'd been bred to a couple years ago -- and produced gorgeous babies. Simplest thing in the world, right? Just go put a couple little love birds together. Simple is not the word to describe how my afternoon played out.

Margaret is home from college and was the only person home at the time I looked out the window to see our wether (castrated male) mounting Lizzie. She was standing there, obviously in heat, perfectly content to have him all over her. After getting over my initial frustration that she was not bred, I told Margaret I needed to go outside and put her with another buck to get her bred. Margaret volunteered to help, because my back has been problematic lately, and she didn't want me hurting myself. Really? (If this were literature instead of real life, I should have seen that as foreshadowing.)

So, we take Lizzie out of the does' pen, and we get Pegasus from the stall at the end of the barn. He was very happy to get to work making babies right away, and I told Margaret we should put them in a stall for the afternoon to make sure she was bred. As it turned out, there was a spool in that stall (you know, the thing electrical cables are wound up on), and I'd forgotten something about Lizzie. She has the distinction of being the only doe I've ever owned who is a jumper. After about 10 minutes, she came flying out of the stall. Maybe she didn't like Pegasus's cologne or something. I put her back in there and moved the spool that she had used to launch herself. A few minutes later, I screamed as I saw her head and three legs clambering over the stall door. I was close enough that I was able to push her back. And I was worried enough about her breaking a leg in her next attempt, that I told Margaret we had to stand there for as long as she was in that stall.

I suppose I need to insert an explanation here about Nigerian dwarf does. While most people assume that animals are perfectly content to mate any ol' male when in heat, this is not true with Nigerians. They have a reputation for being rather persnickety about whose kids they bear -- and I am not the only person to have made this observation. Lizzie was clearly in heat -- tail flagging, making strange noises, and allowing the wether to mount her are all signs that she is definitely in heat. Georgie, the wether, doesn't know that he's not a real man, so he just keeps trying, and Lizzie was perfectly content to stand there and let him try.

Clearly, Lizzie had decided that Pegasus was the most despicable male she'd ever laid eyes on. So, before she broke a leg in her attempts to escape, we decided to put her back with the does. Besides, the buck had gotten lucky at least three times, so hopefully she was bred. I told Margaret, "Just take Lizzie to that second stall door, because Pegasus will follow her, and we'll be able to put him away." Clearly, I should have added, "AFTER we put Lizzie away!" because Margaret thought I wanted to put Pegasus away first. Do you see the problem with this picture?

Okay, maybe you don't see a problem yet, because I haven't told you that Draco was in that stall that we needed to put Pegasus into. And Draco knew there was a girl in heat right outside the door. He had already tried a few times to jump out of his stall. So, as soon as Margaret opened the stall door to put Pegasus in there, Draco tried to escape! He went running right between my legs, so I snapped my knees together on his shoulders. I attempted to take baby steps forward with him between my knees, and believe it or not, I actually got him back in the stall! But the second I let go of him, so Margaret could put Pegasus in, Draco shot out again! He did not make the same mistake of running between my legs this time, but I was able to grab his collar and stop him -- but only for a second. It all gets kind of blurry at this point, but the next thing I knew, Draco and Lizzie were both loose!

I started screaming, "No!" over and over again, as if that would stop him. I grabbed Lizzie's collar with my left hand and put my right hand over her back end. I get the feeling that Lizzie liked Draco, because she moved away from my hand, so unless I wanted goat kids of dubious heritage, I only had one choice. I dropped to my creaky old knees behind Lizzie to completely cover her back end with my body while hugging her around the neck, so that it would be impossible for Draco to do the deed.

I was laughing so hard by the time Margaret got the bucks locked up. She couldn't see my face though, so she wasn't sure if I was laughing or crying. Since Draco had not been successful -- and my knees had landed on soft straw when I dove on top of Lizzie -- it was hilarious. I wasn't hurt, and Lizzie had been bred by Pegasus and only Pegasus. We put Lizzie back with the does, and I said to Margaret, "Don't you miss this?"

Now, I just have to mark the calendar and wait 147, plus or minus a couple days.

Bread fun

bread
Originally uploaded by Antiquity Oaks

Here's the bread we had for Thanksgiving. (I just realized I never posted this!) I used my standard French bread recipe and then played around with it. I made two small, plain loaves (upper right), and I kneaded raw, chopped red onions into two loaves (upper left). The onion bread was gone first! Everyone who tried it went back for second helpings. And the bread in the front is just a braid. Make three long skinny ropes and braid it just as you would hair.

All of this bread was made from my regular batch of French bread dough, which includes:
3 cups warm water (bath temperature)
2 T. yeast
2 t. salt
7-8 cups of unbleached flour

I put all the ingredients in the Kitchen Aid bowl* with a dough hook, in the order listed. Start with only seven cups of flour, and if it's sticky, add more. It's always easy to add more flour, but if you've got a dough that's too dry, it's an icky nightmare to try adding more water. Once it's all mixed up, cover the bowl with waxed paper or a towel that was wet and wrung out. Let is rise until doubled in size, which could be 45 to 90 minutes, depending on how warm your kitchen is. Don't sweat it if you can't get back to it until it's more than double. If you're making regular loaves, this will make three, so cut into thirds and shape into a ball, a baguette, or skinny ropes to make braids, etc.

After braiding or putting into bread pans, bake at 400 degrees F for 20-35 minutes, depending upon how thick the bread is. The thicker it is, the longer it has to bake. The smallest loaves only took about 20-25 minutes. Onion loaves took 30. The braid took 35 minutes.

*Please note that I have the large Kitchen Aid (says "Professional" on the side). If you have a smaller mixer, you'll need to cut the recipe by roughly 2/3. (2 c. water, 1 1/2 T. yeast, 1 t. salt, 5-6 cups flour)

Edited at 9:40 a.m. Monday, thanks to readers' comments! Just holler if anything else is unclear.

Gardening news from Elsewhere

I've started planning my 2010 garden, and I've come across a few articles I thought you might find interesting.

How's this for innovative? You have a yard but don't have the time or knowledge to plant a garden? These people will do the work for you! Check out Your Backyard Farmer. This also gave me an idea -- people sometimes comment on the blog that they wish they could have a garden, but they live in an apartment. Well, if you know someone who has a yard, maybe the two of you could team up to have a garden?

If you live in the New Orleans area and want a garden planted, you can help to feed the hungry while growing your own food. The Latinos Farmer Cooperative will install and plant a raised-bed garden in your backyard for $275, which includes three consultations during the growing season. Volunteers do all the work, and your $275 goes to a food pantry.

Urban gardening keeps getting more and more popular. In Kansas City, they're debating whether or not a home gardener can hire interns, as well as whether people can sell their produce from their yard.

If your really want to get inspired, here's a town in England that has a goal of being self sufficient in food production by 2018. From the progress they've made so far, I'm predicting they'll do it. They're planting gardens everywhere, and they're teaching classes in gardening, cooking, foraging, canning, and even chicken butchering. The article goes on and on about all the things they're doing. It's really fascinating.

And here's a story from South Carolina about a middle school that started its own garden.

If you're still looking for the perfect Christmas gift for a gardener in your life (or a wanna-be gardener), here's an article that recommends several good books on gardening. Of course, you could also buy one or two of these for yourself.

Today I'm going to decide what I want in my 2010 garden, inventory my current stock of seeds, and start going through the seed catalogs!

And the winner is . . .

The winner of the holiday give-away is Sally! Just drop me an email, deborah at antiquity oaks dot com, and tell me your address, so I can send your Shetland-llama yarn to you ASAP!

Thanks to everyone for entering!

Goats-n-barn update

If you know anything about the current weather in Illinois, then you know this is not a current picture. This also means that this post is seriously overdue!

When Sarah the apprentice was still here in November, she helped Mike to put a new goat door in the side of the barn. I had been wanting one for a long time, but I never pestered Mike about it much. A few years ago, I was at another farm where they had a metal barn, and the woman's husband had cut a hole in the wall for their chickens. Well, it looked like someone had ripped a hole in a piece of paper. There were jagged metal edges, which were dangerous, as well as ugly. Of course, I should have known that Mike would not do something like that to our barn. I'm glad I finally got the nerve to ask him to do it. The goats love it because they can go in and out of their stall all day long. We still close it up at night to keep them safe from predators. I probably love it more than the goats do, because it means that I don't have to round them up and bring them into the barn at night. They just head in on their own around sundown.

Many thanks to Sarah for the pictures!