From GENE LOGSDON
The Contrary Farmer
Our son, Jerry, gave his mother a big trailer load of cow manure for her birthday last spring. She could not have been more pleased. Where can you buy even from Neiman Marcus, barn manure aged for three years with a bouquet somewhere between old English leather and woodsy leaf mold? My brother-in-law, Brad, does one better. He not only gives his sheep manure to family members who live nearby, but delivers it by the forklift load and spreads it neatly on their gardens about four inches deep. We are all real nice to Brad. If we don’t already get the gift that keeps on giving, maybe next year. And if you wonder about whether it really keeps on giving, you should see my sisters’ gardens after receiving this kind of treatment for a few years. Luther Burbank would be jealous.
Making barn manure compost is simplicity itself if you have a front end loader. Just scoop the manure bedding out of the barn out into piles, like around six feet high and eight feet in diameter, and watch it turn into black gold over several years. Brad turns his piles with the loader once or twice a year to hasten composting, but Jerry just lets the microorganisms do the turning and waits a year or so longer for the composting process to complete itself. He has plenty of space for it around his barn far from human habitation so no paranoid twenty-first century health faddist will raise unfounded fears of odor, rodents or microbes of devastation. The heat of composting and three years of decomposition renders the compost almost as pure of harmful bugs or pathogens as the driven snow. Yes, it would be better to have a roof over the pile but the amount of plant nutrients lost to rain is minimal.