Cows, sheep, chickens…sure. Normal farm animals. Stretch a little and maybe you'll come up with birds, bees, bugs. Even coyotes or other predators. But contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm in Gaston has noticed yet another creature that calls his farm home.

Moss Animals

Our trips to the irrigation pump are less frequent as temperatures moderate. We are starting to withhold water from the annual crops. For the berries, however, watering through September is critical so the primocanes, which will bear next year's crop, can put on as much growth as possible. Heavy canes bear better fruit. Winter crops like the cabbages, chicories and parsnips must also receive a good dose of water for good root development. When starting the pump, we watch the water carefully for any changes in quality. 

This week, a new creature appeared near the pump station. A large moss animal, or Bryozoan, was drifting in water (top photo). A gelatinous mass about the size of a soccer ball, it is known to bryozoologists as Pectinatella magnifica (left, from Wikimedia). It is the largest of the 22 freshwater moss animals found in North America. Most are delicate creatures that go unnoticed by all but a handful of dedicated professionals. Pectinatella is hard to ignore, and brought us back to invertebrate zoology class.

The bryozoans are invertebrate animals with a nervous system and a gut, and in the same general evolutionary branch as sea urchins and lamp shells. They feed on bacteria and algae using feathery tentacles reminiscent of corals. Like corals, they are colonial animals, and the large mass drifting in our irrigation channel is actually a colony of individuals that are fused together in the gelatinous matrix. Ambling along the bank, we saw several other colonies ranging in size from a softball to a medicine ball. They need warm, clean water. As the water temperature drops below 60 degrees (15 C), the colonies will die. The species carries on by producing a resting stage called a statoblast, and next year these will grow into new colonies. 

Most of 4,000 or so bryozoans are marine animals, and attach themselves to rocks, piers and ship hulls. Of the many animal orders covered in invertebrate biology class, we would nominate a bryozoan as an unlikely resident of a Willamette Valley farm. Obviously, we weren't paying attention to the mention of 50 freshwater species separated into the Class Phylactolaemata, and their preference for clean, still waters. 

Water is every farmer's vulnerability. We fret constantly about the supply, delivery and quality. Seeing this stately creature drifting slowly in the water, with its ancestry stretching back 450-million years to the Ordovician Period, provided a comforting benediction on the irrigation ditch.

The Bard of Ayers Creek, Anthony Boutard, sends another bulletin from the real world. To subscribe to his missives, simply e-mail him and ask to be added to the list.

We always have two or three bald faced hornet nests on the property. These are very valuable insect predators. The only time we remove the nests is when they are built in the berry field. Over the last few years, they have been located high in the oaks, bothering nobody. Unlike their close cousins, the yellow jackets, they tend to be pretty calm, and we have been spared their sting. Yellow jackets are almost as valuable. However, tending toward omnivory, yellow jackets are more inclined to damage fruit and tend to be wired with a hair trigger when you are near the nest.

When you stumble across a nest, it is impossible to outrun them, though a hasty departure is required. We have found the trick is to stand absolutely still against the trunk of the biggest tree nearby, and the wasps will circle in an upwards spiral around the tree looking for your head. Soon, they depart. The most likable of the group are the paper wasps who build small, open nests under the eves of buildings. They build nests on our heavy truck, and seem unfazed by the trip to Salem and back two or three times a week. They watch us keenly, but leave us alone as we work around them. The wasps, as a group, use their stinger as a tool to paralyze their prey, and they inflict a more painful and longer lasting injection than honey bees.

Last week, we found a bald faced hornet nest in a drooping branch of a mirabelle plum tree but a foot above the ground. When we mentioned this to our crew, they noted the locations of a couple of other nests likewise close to the ground. New Englanders have always regarded low wasp nests as a harbinger of a harsh winter, the 'seventh winter' in a cycle. We had a sense of this earlier, and we have planted our sensitive crops in more sheltered locations than in the past, and are hedging with larger plantings of the more hardy greens. Consequently, it was interesting to hear meteorologists predict a colder winter this year for Oregon.

Photos from Wikipedia.

It was a very bad day. One of those days that forever changes you. A day that delineates a definite "Before" and "After." The life-altering occurrence? My husband found out he was lactose intolerant. And, no, not just the "take a Lactaid pill and have some cheesecake anyway" kind of lactose intolerant, but the kind where it's inadvisable to partake of butter, fresh cheeses or any product containing milk without risking...ahem...shall we say "explosive repercussions."

In my usual state of denial, I suggested trying different cheeses and dairy products to see which, if any, his system could tolerate. But, considering the discomfort involved, he declined to let me use his digestive system as a science lab for my experiments (sheesh!). So we adjusted, switching to a more Mediterranean diet, using margarine instead of butter in desserts and becoming vigilant label-readers at the grocery store. A friend even dubbed certain foods "Dave-safe" to give us a heads-up about what was okay to eat.

After doing some reading and consulting with other families making this adjustment, we found that aged cheeses like extra sharp cheddar and parmesan or romano were acceptable, as were some substitute products like tofu cream cheese and sour cream (see note, below). So when he was craving a creamy-cheesy fix, I figured out a recipe for macaroni and cheese that came close to replicating the super-rich pasta dish that had been removed from our table on that fateful day. And for those of you who may have a use for something like this, here's the recipe:

Dave-Safe Mac'n'Cheese

1 lb. dried pasta
4 Tbsp. lactose-free butter or margarine (see note, below)
4 Tbsp. flour
2 c. lactose-free whole milk
3/4 lb. extra-sharp cheddar cheese, grated
8 oz. lactose-free cream cheese (see note, below)
1/2 tsp. hot pepper sauce
Salt and pepper to taste

Boil large pot of water. While water is heating, melt butter in medium-sized saucepan. Remove from burner and add flour, stirring to combine. Place back on burner and cook on low heat for 1-2 minutes, stirring constantly. Add milk and stir until it thickened, then add cheese in handfuls until melted. Add cream cheese and stir until sauce is thick and creamy, then add hot sauce with salt and pepper to taste.

Add pasta to boiling water and cook till al dente. Drain and put in casserole dish, pour cheese sauce over top and stir gently to combine. Bake in 350 degree oven 30 minutes.

NOTE: In the interim since this post was originally written, a new line of products has come on the market that has changed everything. Green Valley Organic Lactose-Free butter, cream cheese and sour cream are now on our go-to list. If you have access to them, give them a try in this recipe! (BTW, we're not thrilled with their plain yogurt at this point, but it's fine in recipes like Chicken Tikka Masala.)

Ya gotta love a guy who gets all motivated by the activity next door and decides to build a raised bed for our tomatoes this year. The local paper had an article about how to build one, but no, that was pooh-poohed as not being sturdy enough to last his minimum requirement of twenty years.*

This, of course, necessitated getting out the computer and drafting a plan of his own, which translates into the opportunity to use as many saws, drills, planes, levels and other tools as he possibly can. After myriad trips to the hardware store to get the cedar, screws and any new tools that might come in handy, he got down to the business of cutting the wood and assembling the materials to make the frame.

We had to wait a week or so for the weather and our schedules to clear, then we dug up the lawn, put the frame together and hauled in multiple bags of compost and manure, a solid afternoon of hard work that was rewarded with a very dry martini and toasts to the eventual harvest. The next day I planted two Cherokee Purple tomatoes, a Brandywine, a Green Zebra, a Black Plum cherry and an Isis Candy cherry, then surrounded them with their red Wall O' Water tomato teepees. The bases were scattered with basil and arugula seeds and watered liberally.

There's room for another bed next to it, which fits nicely into my plan to eliminate as much grass as possible and turn this patch of southern sun into a productive terraced garden. That and get rid of the arbor vitae and replace it with...oh, well, you don't need my whole list. I'll save that for another post!

Details: Get Dave's 10-Year Raised Bed plans.

* They actually lasted ten years before needing to be rebuilt, but considering our wet Pacific Northwest weather, that was just fine.