Last fall while I was writing about the planning and execution of planting 20 more acres of prairie I was also planning and the surgeons were executing a laryngectomy. A laryngectomy is a serious operation (mine turned into three operations) that removes the larynx (voicebox), rebuilds the esophagus and, as a result, separates the air (going in the tracheostomy tube in my throat to the lungs) from the food (mouth to stomach). There is no longer a connection between the two paths. This leads to some interesting effects such as a greatly diminished sense of smell (since air no longer goes through my nose while breathing) and difficulty spitting (since I can’t summon up air to provide force). More importantly, it means that I should no longer be prone to the chronic lung infections and pneumonia which were fed by the leakage of food and secretions into my lungs. Big stuff, because to paraphrase my surgeon, “If you think you’re going to live a long life getting pneumonia regularly, you are mistaken.

In other works, a long range plan was a pointless exercise. While I may not have been in imminent peril, it was unlikely that I would be around to execute a ten year plan. The surgeries that I had four months ago appear to have accomplished their purpose. I no longer suffer from a chronic bacterial infection in my lungs; I am breathing better than I have for a very long time. This means that even through my healing and rehabilitation, which was significant, I usually had more energy than before the surgery. The reconstructed esophagus is even allowing me to eat again. And I now feel that I have a future. I can begin the work on a long range plan for my farm, what I am calling “the ten year plan”.

Any plan is simply a road map of actions to achieve goals, so first I need to define my goals. I’ve discussed this in the past, but I feel that my good fortune in having control of a substantial block of land, almost 590 acres on my “home farm”, meaning the farm where I grew up, creates both the opportunity and the obligation to try to do something grand. Maybe I should capitalize that to emphasize the idea; to Do Something Grand! The goal is nothing less than to produce food, improve the productivity of both the farmed acres and the rangeland, store carbon, filter water, provide habitat for native plants and animals; and to provide recreation, pleasure and peace for my family and others who may visit. If I can tie this in with any neighbors and neighboring land then those benefits can hopefully accrue in a widening circle, amplifying the effects of actions taken on my farm. How does one accomplish all this on 590 acres? “Aye, there’s the rub!” to quote Shakespeare. There lies the need for a carefully thought out and flexible plan. This post is an introduction to that and will begin once more with a map.

Not a fancy map, one with a few scribbled notes, and one I hope to edit and update with more specific planning information in the future. We own three quarters and a 40 in Section 12, and a 65 acre chunk of grass in Section 11 to the west, on the southeast side of Anderson Lake. At this time there is about 150 acres of native grass in four parcels, 210 acres of restored prairie of various qualities and 220 acres of cropped ground. This surrounds 120 acres of cropped ground owned and farmed by a neighbor, who also rents my pastures (though not my cropped acres). This is the canvas, so to speak, though the metaphor falls flat when one thinks about it. We are not creating a painting, an image that pleases us. We are trying to engage in a dance with the natural environment to modify the biotic community on this 590 acres to provide the various services I listed earlier. The idea of control, or the idea that we can create something is dangerous and counterproductive. What can be done is to create conditions, a starting point; and then let time, weather and the seasons develop what they will, and dance with the results.

So what are the tools that can be used to initiate and engage in this metaphor of the dance? I have already seeded down 210 acres to varying complexities of native species, and that may be all that I seed of the farm. There will probably be topdressing of additional seed on the most recent restoration, and perhaps on some of the less diverse restoration acres (about half has 100-150 species seeded and the other half 20-40). We will probably use fire as a tool on some acres on occasion, including on 15-20 acres this spring. On the cropped acres we will be incorporating cover crops, and hoping to move from reduced tillage to a pure no-till system. The big tool to tie everything together, and hopefully to make the dance really swing, will be creative use of cattle to achieve management goals.

Ultimately it’s all about the fate of the biomass that grown on the farm. Perhaps 4-5,000,000 pounds of dry matter biomass will be created on the 587 acres every year, and the fate of that biomass will determine whether we achieve the ecosystem services we desire. Biomass as wheat or corn or soybeans will be removed, providing food and fuel. Cattle will remove biomass to create beef, as will other grazing animals from deer to rabbits to grasshoppers. The stabilization of biomass as organic matter will sequester carbon in the soil. The soil will be physically protected both by the covering of biomass, and chemically protected by the “glue” effect of the microbial byproducts as they eat and modify the residues of the year. Those stabilized soil clumps (peds) allow water infiltration and thus reduce runoff and cleanse the water as it percolates through the soil profile. This is obviously dependent upon a robust microbiology in my soils, and the biomass is the home of the microbes, as well as the feedstock used by the microbial community, including the symbionts that will support lush, efficient plant growth. It is the structure, both above and below ground, which provides a home for animal life. In the prairies it’s density (or lack thereof) will favor different suites of plants, and thus other life. Managing land is then, to a large extent, managing the fate, distribution, height, density and type of biomass left after a year of growth and use. As every year gives a different symphony of rain, temperatures, wind and sunlight, the dance needs to be a little different every year.

The tools are cows, combines, mowers, tillage implements, seeding, and the lighted match, though not always in that order. I emphasize that cattle are integral to the plan, and that is a complicating factor, as they are unlikely to be our cattle. I will need to have a partner who understands my goals and has some flexibility, even as I will need to understand the constraints that he is working under. That is a challenge I welcome, as I feel it will sharpen my thought and reasoning. We all get into mental ruts, but that won’t cut it if I am challenged by a sharp young farmer. Our goals will not be the same, but I am optimistic that collaboration will lead to the results we both desire.

So that is the big picture. The next post will delve into the specifics of actions I plan to take this year and how they advance the greater goals. Every action needs to advance the capability to provide those ecosystem services, if only indirectly. Every action needs to enhance the ability of the land to grow food, store carbon, filter water, support pollinators, enhance the biodiversity of the neighborhood and to provide pleasure and peace to those who go there. Those goals need to be taped up where I will see and remember them, at least metaphorically, in the conversations I have with myself and others. So today I am putting up the bulletin board in my brain and writing my goals in capital letters. And then we will begin with a slow, simple waltz, but more intricate routines may lie ahead.