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April 2013 Articles

Just Rambling, April 2013
Recent E.coli outbreak calls attention to food safety rules
Strain elected SASDA president
Historical Fact
Milk Per Cow Increasing
Historical Fact
Economic Implications of Replacing Synthetic Nitrogen With Clovers in a Cool-Sea
New pest could cost blueberry growers
Use Science In Regulating Antibiotics, Agriculture Coalition Says
Historical Fact
EPA Regulation of Greenhouse Gases Will Burden Farmers
Statement by Bob Stallman, President, American Farm Bureau Federation, Regarding
Horse Facts
EPA Updates to Air Quality Standards Concern Farmers
Office of Animal Health and Food Safety has new tool to track cattle
Composting recycles yard waste
Help Your Horse Beat the Heat this Summer
Parasites and pastures
Objective of Goat Enterprise, Purpose of Pastures for Goats and Implications for
Beef Export Volumes Lag 2011 Record Levels
Historical Fact
Chicken Labels - Confusing?
Notes from Germany
Historical Fact
Spiritual Corner
Cutting Corners: Ginger's Fabulous Brownies
Report Shows Real Harm of Estate Taxes
Watch for Toxic Plant Problems During Drought
Drought Impacts Cattle Inventory and Cattle on Feed
Think before you Creep
It's time to plant late-summer vegetables
U.S. Meat and Poultry Production Year-to-Date 2012
New foreign worker law could hurt Louisiana processors
Managing Cattle With Reduced Stress, Bryan Kutz, Instructor, U of A
Equine Vaccinations
The True Value of Youth Livestock Projects, Steven M. Jones, Associate Professor
Anaplasmosis
Nationwide Drought Impacting Louisiana Ports, Strain assesses low river levels
Horse Facts
Anaplasmosis vaccine gains additional approvals
Financial Education Boot Camps provide training, free resources for teachers
AFBF Asks to Join Poultry Farmer's Lawsuit Against EPA
Farm Groups Urge House to Preserve Family Farms
Notes from Germany
Spiritual Corner
• A Visit to J W Farms
The EPA: A Positive Perspective
Consider bald cypress for your landscape
Quote
Poor Temperament Can equal Poor Performance
Cost of Legume Establishment Depends on Planting Procedure
Agriculture losses from Isaac depend on September weather
Horse Facts
Historical Fact
Mosquito repellants offer various levels of protection
West Nile virus increase corresponds to heavy rains
Local Culling Decisions in the Face of a National Drought
The Use of Ultrasound Technology in Today's Beef Cattle Industry
Successful ponds require good management
Ponds provide recreational opportunities, increase property values
LSU AgCenter offers quicker route to Master Farmer status
Cargill donates to AgCenter alligator research
Spiritual Corner
Sow Slaughter Up: Pork Output Will Drop in '13
Cutting Corners: Bacon Cheeseburger Meatloaf

(65 articles found)

Archives by Months

A Visit to J W Farms

A Visit to J W Farms Louisiana Highway 1, traveling south. The hot July sun reigns supreme in the afternoon sky, the pastureland baking for miles and miles beneath its humid gaze, the pines wilting in the intense heat of an aging summer. The dashboard clock reads 3:16, passing through Coushatta, and beneath the truck tires the blacktop sizzles like bacon grease in a skillet, frying. My father turns the radio knob; from the speakers, a newsman’s voice trickles out. News of the drought, of 100 degree temperatures, of sky-high feed costs and falling cattle prices. “If only we’d get a good, solid rain,” my father says, but his voice tapers off. I watch the road. The village of Powhatan, Louisiana lies before us, and so we turn left, crossing the old railroad tracks and then a cattle guard to reach our destination at last. This is J W Farms.
We pass through the gate and drive down a small gravel lane bordered on both sides by a row of pecan trees, their thick, overhanging boughs shrouding the truck in deep shadow, cool and refreshing. On our right stands a white shop building—its sign reads “James Wagley Farms” in bold, black letters—and beyond that are the chicken houses, six all totaled. Located about eight miles north of Natchitoches, Louisiana, J W Farms raises broilers for Pilgrim’s Pride Corporation. At the company’s suggestion, visitors to Pilgrim’s Natchitoches feed mill routinely tour the property to observe first-hand the day-to-day running of a poultry operation at its best. We are here for much the same reason. Recently, an agent from the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) inspected the farm and reported that it was “operated and maintained in excellent condition.” From our first cursory glance at the property, my father and I couldn’t agree more.
We park the truck beneath the shop carport, open the doors and climb out. Mr. Wagley has waited to meet us. He wears a brown shirt and blue jeans, with two little Jack Russell terriers—Bo and Boo—standing close beside him. We all shake hands. “This here’s my buddy,” Mr. Wagley says, and scratches Bo’s belly. “He’s the smart one.” Suddenly, an old man zooms by on a large riding lawnmower, his eyes fixed on his work, on the grass to be mowed. “And that there’s my daddy,” says Mr. Wagley. “He handles my yard for me.” We all look out towards the chicken houses now, at the grass clipped and manicured like at a country club golf course. “Everybody says he ought to do a commercial for that mower, the way he works,” says Mr. Wagley. He smiles, and the mower disappears from sight. “Well, y’all wanna come on inside now?” he continues. We nod and follow after him.
Inside the shop, Mr. Wagley tells us all about himself and about his farm. He was born in Natchitoches, the son of Sonny and Wavlyn Wagley. The family is well-known in the area—his mother, Wavlyn, has worked for years at the City Bank of Natchitoches and earned a reputation as the bank’s most knowledgeable employee, the single most trusted source of advice for any of the bank’s new hires. As for Sonny Wagley, he spent his whole life raising cattle and doing custom hay baling work; he then passed the farming tradition on down to his son. Today, Mr. Wagley’s farm is still a family operation, and he receives help, not only from his father, but also from his wife, Sonya, and from his 16 year-old daughter, Jamie Lee. The three of them still live in Natchitoches, but spend a great deal of their time on the farm. “Oh, they all help out a lot,” says Mr. Wagley. “Picking and selling pecans, working in the chicken houses. Doing whatever needs to be done.”
For many years, though, Mr. Wagley’s life was far removed from poultry farming. He worked in construction first, traveling to upstate New York and Augusta, Georgia, and then down to South America to work in the oil industry in Venezuela. At last, however, the pangs of homesickness caught up with him and brought him back to Louisiana. In Natchitoches once again, he worked for eight years at the Willamette paper mill across the Red River in Campti, until one day, he read an ad in the newspaper, and everything changed for him. The ad was for Pilgrim’s Pride Corporation, and it was seeking new growers for Natchitoches parish. At that moment, Mr. Wagley made the decision that if he was ever going to become a farmer in this life, well, then it was time to take those first steps towards achieving his goal. He would need a year for the transition and help in financing his dream. Lee McCann of Sabine State Bank made the loan, and in the fall of 2004, Mr. Wagley purchased his farm at last. “I tell you,” he says, “I started with just 44 acres, cleared it, and set up those broiler houses. Now, we’ve got six houses in all, and a 100 acre farm.” Clearly, Mr. Wagley had made it.

.Eight years later, J W Farms is indeed a prosperous poultry operation, and now with Mr. Wagley as our guide in the passenger seat, my father drives the three of us around the farm, observing the property. Mr. Wagley points to a small stand of trees, motions at my father to stop. “Right through here, about half a mile away,” he says, “is the Red River.” We continue on, turning right and passing the river levee that prevents flooding on the property, driving until we reach Mr. Wagley’s compost sheds where we stop at last and park. Here, my father leaves the truck to take a photo, and I stare through the window and out at the fields before me. “That over there is my junk pile,” says Mr. Wagley, and I see a spot beneath trees set aside for old cars, for scrap metal and machine parts, tidy and meticulously organized. It’s the cleanest junk pile I’ve ever seen, I think to myself, as my father climbs back in the truck and takes his seat. We drive on.
Now, we move on past the compost sheds and back under the pecan trees. On our right is a big pond, marshy with white egrets high-stepping through the duck weeds, scattered cypress tree stumps littering the bank. “How bad was the drought for y’all last year?” asks my father. “Oh, it was rough,” says Mr. Wagley, “but we made it.” He points to the stumps. “Last year, this whole pond dried up,” he says. “But I figured I might as well dig up them stumps while I could.” He nods. “Gonna have to do something with them soon. Gonna have to get to that.”
At the shop once again, Mr. Wagley’s father has finished with his mowing and stands in the red dust as we pull up and park beneath the carport. We shake hands with him, and now both Wagleys begin to talk with us about the chicken houses, about the drought last year, and about their life here on the farm. According to Mr. Wagley, these days his father, Sonny, spends most of his time helping his son with his work. “I don’t know how I’d do it without him,” says Mr. Wagley. “And I can’t bear to think of working in those chicken houses without him being there.” We talk with the two of them until nearly six o’clock, when at last it is time for us to leave and head back north to Spearsville. Mr. Wagley holds a squirming Bo in one arm and waves good-bye with the other, while we head on down the lane and out through the rows of pecan trees to take Louisiana Highway 1 back to our home. We cross the cattle guard again, and JW Farms is behind us.
On the drive back, though, I realize that if there’s any two farmers that will make it through hardship, through something like last year’s drought, or this one, well, it’ll be these two, the Wagleys. No wonder the EPA gave them a glowing report: they are attentive farm managers, devoted family men, exemplars of environmental consciousness. And now, riding home, as my father and I listen again to all the bad news—worries about a weak stock market, about natural disasters, high corn prices and more—I remind myself of the Wagley’s farm, of their hard work and their family bond, and of the many farmers and ranchers scattered throughout America who are just like them. They will make it, I say to myself, they will all make it. Outside, the world has cooled since earlier in the afternoon, and the evening air is pleasant. We drive home by the light of a setting sun—sinking low, but burning just as brightly as it ever has.

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