Wild Things

Foraging: it’s one of my favorite things to do on the farm while walking around the pastures, hayfields, riparian area and the woodlot. Depending on what time of the year it is I find everything from giant puff ball fungi to catching a native trout in the run. Some things I pass on like the huge snapping turtles that venture to the pond to lay their eggs each spring. Others, like the prolific squab who roost in the horse barn, I actively catch and cook. Occasionally one of the livestock guardian dogs will snag a Canadian Goose. If it’s a fresh one, I’ll divest the carcass of the breast and let the dogs keep the rest, but I don’t actively hunt waterfowl, or for that matter, the wild turkeys who have become my daily alarm clock.There’s purslane, the tangy wild green that also shows up in Young Harvests’ salad mix, burdock, dandelion, lambs quarters, and garlic mustard—all growing in abundance, edible and nutritious.But in mid-June the star attraction of foraging begins to ripen—wild raspberries. A flavor of childhood, I looked forward to each year when my pappy would don his chest waders and venture to the rear of my grandparents’ property where thorny brambles grew between their neatly mowed lawn and the neighboring corn field. Grandma would make sponge cake, adding a copious helping of berries to the batter. Over the years I tried making her recipe with cultivated raspberries and even blackberries, but the taste was never the same.As a farmer, I’ve come to understand the importance of hedgerows of brambles and bushes that produce edible berries. They’re not just for people. While the production of crops is foremost on a farm, a well-operated and healthy farm will also include the wild places that provide cover and food for wildlife. Talk to any of your farmers at the market and you’ll find that many are just as concerned about conservation as they are agriculture.Anyone can beat Mother Nature into submission with chemicals and equipment, but it take a daring and patient farmer to work in concert with the natural environment to achieve a balance, or at the very least, a truce. I let the skunks and opossums live in peace under my porch steps and in exchange they keep the rodent, beetles, and bug population around the house at bay. I don’t kills snakes, poisonous or not, as each serves its role in the ecosystem.A few years ago the power company showed up and announced they’d be cutting all the Ash trees near the power lines that had been affected by the Emerald Ash Borer that has compromised many of the Ashes in the United States.“We’ll need to spray all those briars to get to the trees,” I was told.“Give me the name and telephone number of your supervisor,” I replied.The crew came back in the fall when all the briars has died back and the job was accomplished without chemicals or the destruction of hedgerow loaded with wild berry brambles, wild grapes, and butterfly milkweed.As I began my first forage of the season this year I noticed that in some spots the brambles were covered in sawdust. Looking around for the source I spied where woodpeckers had made homes in the trunks of the Ash trees the arborist crews had left standing.The extent of the brambles is no small patch as it runs nearly the entire perimeter of the hay fields, over a half mile according to my GPS tracker. In some spots the patch is more than ten feet deep. Here and there are small paths cutting through the thicket deeper into the woods, a trail frequented by the larger fauna such as deer, bear, porcupine, coyote, and raccoon. I know they live here as I’ve encountered them all on my walks over the years at one time or another.Like all things wild, the black raspberries are unpredictable. Some years there are so many I can stand in one spot and fill the pail. Other years, I’ve walked the entire patch to gather barely a handful. If I’m struggling I’m certain the critters are, too.In addition to the sweet little nuggets that stain my fingers pink, the briar patch offers me the intangible gift of peace. It can be as simple as a few minutes gathering down over the hill not a hundred feet from my house to over an hour in the waning daylight walking the full perimeter stopping to check on the hazelnut and chestnut trees that were planted a few years ago. Hopefully in my lifetime I will get to gather their gifts, too.I thought about how the people who settled this property before the United States had even been formed might have enjoyed this early summer bounty. None of the patch can be seen from the original stone home. Did young folks steal away under the auspices of berry picking to court each other? Where they gathered for a batch of wine or jam or pie?To honor the blessing of first berries I always prepare a special meal. In the age of COVID19 which cut out fine dining in restaurants, I’m left to my own devices and goodies from the farmers market to fill that void. Wild raspberry coulis with fennel and one of the last fresh ramp bulbs got drizzled over a crispy skin roasted duck breast—thank you Westmoreland Produce, Young Harvests and Springfield Farm. A cocktail with muddled fresh berries, Butterfly vodka and a splash of seltzer. Who needs to visit a hip bar in the District?Leave it to the predictable wildness of the farm to offer comfort in the age of uncertainty. And yes, I made Grandma Miller’s Sponge Cake for dessert.