Australia’s 10,000 registered beekeepers are worried. In the last 20 years hive numbers across the country have halved, and the industry is currently battening the hatches for a perfect storm of multiple pressures on the European honeybee.

Chief among their concerns is the phenomenon known as Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD). This occurs when bees simply vanish from their hives leaving the capped brood and queen in abandoned colonies. CCD was first observed in Pennsylvania in 2006, and losses in North America and Europe have averaged about 30 to 40 percent in the years since. It is important to note that no cases of Colony Collapse Disorder have been recorded in Australia.

Does that mean we can rest on our laurels. Definitely not! Beekeepers are worried that a major outbreak of the feral Asian honeybee, which was first detected in Queensland in 2007, will bring into the country the parasite Varroa destructor, a mite that has been implicated in CCD overseas. In the long term, however, both varroa and the Asian honeybee can be controlled. The issue that really petrifies beekeepers is the growing use of insecticides.

Editor of the Australasian Beekeeper Journal, Des Cannon, wrote in a recent editorial that he regards “the use of pesticides in our environment as the single biggest threat to the survival of beekeeping”. Cannon singles out for special attention a class of chemicals called neonicotinoids, so called new generation insecticides that have gained widespread usage since they were introduced in the mid 1990′s.

Neonics, as these chemicals are commonly known, include the popular garden insecticides Confidor and Conguard. Both products are systemic. This means that although neonics can be applied in a variety of ways – as a soil drench, a foliar spray, in granular form or as a seed treatment – they work by being absorbed into a plant’s vascular system where they are able to attack the nervous system of any insect that ingests the chemical.

Herein lies the problem with neonics such as imidacloprid and clothianidin: they are extremely toxic to bees. No big deal says Bayer CropSciences, the multinational company that sold more than a billion dollars worth of neonicotinoid products last year. They insist that bees spend little time foraging on infected pollen, that little if any neonic insecticide finds its way into hives, and if it does, the concentration is so low that the effect on hive health is negligible.

These claims are called into question by the findings of a Purdue University study released last week in the peer reviewed journal Plos One. Researchers found damning evidence that bees from hives located near neonic treated cornfields were exposed to insecticide in various ways throughout their foraging period, and were actively foraging on maize pollen.

Most alarmingly though, the research indicated that the neonic clothianidin was present on bees found dead at the entrance to hives as well as in pollen collected by the bees and stored inside the hive. Considering both imidacloprid and clothianidin are almost universally used in Australia as seed treatments for canola (some of which is also genetically modified), corn and other crops, beekeepers have every right to be concerned about the future of their livelihood.

So what can we as gardeners do to support the local honeybee population. Firstly, we ought to abandon formal style gardens for the environmental folly that they are and embrace a more relaxed, cottage style dominated by flowering plants such as daisies (among the best bee attracting plants), clovers, fruit trees, herbs and natives including grevilleas and dwarf eucalypts.

Secondly, and most importantly, gardeners should cease using imidacloprid and other neonicotinoid chemicals. Most pest problems can be solved in the long run by creating a biodiverse garden full of a broad range of plants, along with organic soil building techniques. The latter will help boost the immune response of plants, making them naturally resistant to any minor pest outbreaks that might occur.

Paul Watson of the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society made an interesting comment on an Australian chat show last year. He said that “worms are more important than people, and the reason for that: worms can live on the earth without people, but we can’t live on the earth without worms.” Whether you love or hate what Watson does each summer in the Southern Ocean, his comment is spot on.

We’re not the centre of the universe. We can’t live on the earth without worms any more than we can without honeybees, so the sooner we get over ourselves, and drop the sense of entitlement that has infested all corners of our privileged society, the better.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 28th January 2011. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Don’t forget to visit our new site The Radish, edible gardening from roots to fruits!!

We’re at the point in spring where some plants can start to flag. You’ll notice it most in the vegie patch, where things planted back in late winter will have put on a big spurt of growth, but are now starting to look a bit tired as temperatures warm and winds increase. To revive sagging fortunes in the vegie patch and beyond, it can be a great idea to splash around a watering can or two of liquid fertiliser.

Gardeners seem to forget that plants take up nutrients in liquid form. In other words, when you apply a solid fertiliser such as pelletised chook manure, nutrients don’t get absorbed through plant roots until the pellets start to dissolve in the presence of moisture. By contrast, liquid fertilisers provide a quick response. The nutrients are taken up almost immediately through a plant’s foliage and root system. This enables the savvy gardener to correct any deficiencies relatively quickly, in addition to providing a rapid boost to plant growth.

To give you an example of this fast-acting process, I used liquid fertiliser extensively during last summer’s wet weather. Heavy rainfall leaches nutrients from the soil, and as a consequence, some plants may show obvious signs of being “hungry”. Citrus trees, being gross feeders, were particularly vulnerable to nutrient deficiencies last summer, so once the soil had dried out a bit, I applied a solid fertiliser around the root zone of my trees to provide a slow release of nutrients. But that’s not all. I did so in tandem with fortnightly applications of liquid fertiliser. Until the solid fertiliser started to break down, the liquid fertiliser provided a rapid boost. The result was that the plants remained green and healthy all summer long.

Two other situations where liquid fertilisers really come into their own is with container plants, and leafy green vegetables. Plants such as lettuce, rocket, bok choy, and silverbeet will produce lots of tender leaves in response to regular applications of liquid feed, while container plants benefit greatly from monthly doses of liquid fertiliser as a supplement to slow release products. Indoor plants in particular are prime candidates for regular liquid feeding during the warmer months of the year.

At this point, some of you might be wondering what I even mean by the term “liquid fertiliser”. So let’s define it. A liquid fertiliser is any liquid containing nutrients essential for healthy plant growth, including nitrogen, phosphorous and potassium. Liquid fertilisers shouldn’t be confused with liquid plant tonics. These products are often based on seaweed extract, and generally contain trace elements and other helpful micro-nutrients, but very little nitrogen. Rather than promote foliage growth, tonics enhance soil life, encourage healthy root formation and provide other benefits such as making plants more resistant to frost and drought.

Liquid fertilisers, on the other hand, come in a wide array of different configurations based on the ingredients used in their manufacture. The most basic are very low-tech and can be entirely home made. Human urine (don’t cringe) has been used as a fertiliser for thousands of years, and there’s still merit in having the gentlemen of the house say good night to the lemon tree. At home you can also make liquid fertiliser from the worm juice that accumulates in the lower chamber of your worm farm, or from comfrey or soft weed leaves steeped in a bucket of water for couple of weeks.

Some organic gardeners make a compost tea by placing about one litre of compost in a shadecloth “teabag”, putting the bag in a 10 litre bucket, and letting the liquid brew for a week before use. With any of the above fertilisers it’s important to dilute to about one part concentrate to 10 parts water.

When it comes to commercial products, nurseries and hardware stores carry dozens of different liquid fertiliser brands. Being an organic gardener I choose products that are made from previously living ingredients, rather than synthetic chemicals. My favourite liquid fertilisers are based on fish emulsion, and in my view the best of the lot is Charlie Carp. I generally avoid endorsing a product specifically, and never accept payment or kickbacks for such recommendations, but I love the fact that Charlie Carp takes a problem – feral fish infesting our waterways – and turns it into a fertiliser for plants. Brilliant. There are lots of others available as well, but it would pay to look for those that are Certified Organic.

The only other caveats I have with liquid fertilisers is to always dilute them according manufacturer directions, to avoid burning sensitive plant roots, and to not ignore the long term process of building healthy, fertile soil via the continual addition of decomposed organic matter. Liquid fertiliser can be helpful, but soil building is still the main game.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 22nd October 2011. Photo by Justin Russell, orange blossom.

Check out our new site The Radish, edible gardening from roots to fruits.

There comes a point in spring where I’m absolutely itching to sink my teeth into the first properly ripe strawberry of the season. I don’t buy strawberries from the shops. I grew up eating plump, deliciously sweet berries grown on my Pa’s market garden in Brisbane, so to my palate, the commercial strawberries sold in plastic punnets are a serious disappointment. As far as I’m concerned, real berries come from the garden (or a really good local farmer), and they’re as far removed from the bland, mushy, transported-halfway-across-the-state excuses for fruit that promise so much but deliver so little.

I get the impression that some people consider my attitude elitist. Someone once suggested that not everyone’s lucky enough to have a large garden like me. Others have claimed that they too could grow their own strawberries of only they’d achieved my level of gardening skill! Such defeatism! I try to explain to the naysayers that they’d probably change their tune if they saw just how laid back my strawberry growing efforts actually are.

Besides preparing the soil properly before planting, mulching the plants until they naturally cover the ground, and putting out some eco-friendly snail bait during wet weather, I do nothing to my strawberries other than pick, and enjoy, them. I don’t spray, fertilise, or water. My plants don’t have viruses, but they do get the occasional bit of grey mould during wet summers. I don’t worry about it. And I’m not a commercial grower, so I ignore the traditional advice that strawberry plants should be completely replaced every three years to prevent disease taking hold. In spite of my laissez faire approach we get bumper crops of berries every spring, summer and autumn that more than justify the minuscule amount of time I put into the the plants.

So what’s your excuse? I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just that if you’re keen to grow strawberries but haven’t yet had a go, I’m wondering what’s holding you back? If space is limited try growing strawbs in pots or hanging baskets. If your soil is black clay try raised beds. If you’re worried you don’t have the requisite skills, take comfort in the fact that you only need the bare basics.

There’s a common misconception about strawberries that they are delicate, and therefore, difficult to grow. While it’s true that the berries themselves aren’t very robust, the plants are actually quite resilient. The ideal growing conditions are a free draining, slightly acidic soil that’s full of organic matter, a position in sun or dappled shade, and some supplemental irrigation during really hot, dry periods. These needs reflect the plant’s origins in the woodlands of Europe where wild strawberries grow naturally in the humus-rich, semi-shaded soils of the forest floor. Replicate these conditions at home as best you can, and you’ll be on a winner.

Unfortunately, it’s a bit trickier to pick a winner among the few strawberry varieties offered for sale in the nurseries. Truth be told, many are superseded commercial varieties that were bred for qualities such as transportability, extended harvest and disease resistance. Like most commercial fruit, flavour isn’t top priority. For home growers, the situation is reversed. My primary consideration is flavour, so I try to choose fruit and vegies that are, more than anything else, absolutely delicious to eat. Usually this means looking to specialist nurseries for the right plants.

With this in mind I’ve just planted out a new patch of strawbs. The variety is ‘Hokawase’, an old Japanese selection that is blessed with one of the most incredible flavours on the face of the planet. Hokawase is so good you’re unlikely to ever find your local supermarket. The berries don’t transport well (strike one), they go soft in the punnet (strike two) and only bear in spring and early summer (strike three, and they’re out!). But for me, Hokawase is precisely the kind of strawberry I want to grow.

‘Red Gauntlet’, my other main variety, is incredibly productive but lacks the flavour of the best strawberries. I’ve also got an unknown variety that nearly rivals Hokawase, but the next best is the much overlooked alpine strawberry or fraises des bois – the wild strawberry of the wood. This plant runs like crazy, which makes it a good groundcover, and it produces little fingernail sized morsels that burst in your mouth like sherbet. Still, they’ve got nothing on a just picked Hokawase.

The gates of berry heaven are wide open and all gardeners with an ounce of enthusiasm for growing their own fruit are welcome to enter.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 24th September 2011. Photo by Justin Russell, Red Gauntelt strawberries and calendula in the vegie patch.

When Kylie and I were newly married and had moved into our first house, we were given a tiny little hand-me-down black and white TV. Being a long-time footy fan, I’d attempt to watch games in black and white, and Ill tell you, it was a seriously frustrating experience. It was almost impossible sometimes to distinguish between the opposing teams.

A year or so later we inherited another TV, still a tiny little box but this time, a whiz bang colour version. You can guess what happened. The change from watching the footy in black and white to watching it in vibrant colour was absolutely mind blowing.

This is how I like to think about spring – it’s as if nature is suddenly playing out in full colour, rather than black and white. Life appears to be bursting forth all over the place, and there’s an obvious sense of urgency in the air. The garden looks fresh, but I know that some plants are using up all their stored energy reserves and will soon be hungry. One of the major spring tasks for the gardener, therefore, is to provide nourishment. But there’s a catch: nourishment means a lot more in garden terms than simply throwing around a packet of urea or super-phosphate in the hope that it will “green things up”.

The true way to a healthy, well nourished garden is by continually building healthy, biologically active soil. Bottom line. Healthy soil is a diverse ecosystem full of decomposed rock minerals, decayed organic matter, micro-organisms, and beneficial fungi, and will therefore support plants that naturally resist pests and disease. By contrast, gardens that are over fed with artificial fertilisers look lush, but they’re actually bloated and sappy, fed on what is the equivalent of junk food.

I use no artificial fertilisers in my garden at all. Nothing is applied to the soil or a pot that is based on synthetic chemicals, which means no orange slow release pellets, no ammonia or urea, no super-phosphate and no soluble “liquid” fertilisers. None. These fertilisers damage, rather than enhance, soil life, so the only fertilisers I use are those made from natural products such as manure, blood and bone, worm poo, fish emulsion and rock minerals. This is not a boast, just a simple statement of my principles, and actions.

One of the reasons I abhor the use of chemical fertilisers is because in my view, they are weapons of violence and war. If you think this sounds far fetched, consider the history of chemical fertiliser use. It all began in the peace-time years immediately following World War Two. Munitions factories that had been making bombs from ammonium nitrate were re-purposed to produce cheap, nitrogen-rich agricultural fertilisers. More recently, ammonium nitrate fertiliser was used to make bombs used in July’s Mumbai bombings and confessed Norwegian mass murderer Anders Breivik even went as far as to purchase a farm so that he could access chemical fertilisers to make bombs.

This isn’t to say that chemical fertilisers can’t be used for peaceful purposes. Of course they can. There is also no doubt that the use of chemical fertilisers have greatly increased crop yields, and as a consequence fed billions of people. But so have natural fertilisers, and they can be used with few of the risks associated with synthetic chemicals.

One of the major issues arising from over reliance on artificial fertilisers is a serious deterioration in soil quality. Chemicals can provide specific plant nutrients, but they contribute nothing to the biological activity of soil and excessive use can lead to ground that is effectively dead – nothing more than a medium to keep plants from falling over. An obvious consequence of poor soil quality is even greater dependence on artificial fertiliser for a farm or garden to remain productive.

The washup is that I’m not what you’d call a gung-ho plant feeder. I never throw fertiliser around willy nilly, even if it’s a natural product, and I only fertilise in a limited range of scenarios: to give young seedlings raised in pots a healthy start; to provide nutrients to container plants grown in potting mix; to replace nutrients leached on very free draining soil; to ensure healthy growth of particularly hungry plants such as citrus trees and vegies; and to give a quick boost to heavily pruned plants such as roses.

I basically ignore all the gardening experts telling me to fertilise like there’s no tomorrow. Instead, my real concern is with the soil. I’ll use fertiliser when and if it’s required, but my overwhelming concern is with the health of my soil. Nourish it, and not only will my plants be well-fed, but I will be too.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 10th September 2011. Photo by Justin Russell, unfertilised cottage garden in spring.

The events come thick and fast at this time of the year. Easter, Anzac Day, and Earth Day last weekend, Gardenfest and Autumnfest this weekend (see Garden Cuttings for more info), and the Hampton Food and Arts Festival in a couple of weeks’ time. One event that’s likely to fly under the radar, but deserves more attention is the inaugural National Permaculture Day, tomorrow, May 1.

Despite being described by veteran environmentalist David Suzuki as “the most important activity that any group is doing on the planet”, Permaculture has yet to gain any real traction in our part of the world. As far as I’m aware, there are no local events being held tomorrow, which is a shame, and though there are a handful of dedicated permaculture gardens hidden around the place, none are throwing open their gates to the public. I wonder why this is the case. Is it because of Toowoomba’s conservatism, where anything and anyone bearing a green tinge generally gets treated with suspicion? Or is it simply that permaculture is a difficult concept to understand?

Conservative our area might be, but in my experience the latter reason is true: most local gardeners have heard of permaculture, but few actually understand what the concept is about. Personally, I find permaculture to be brilliantly conceived, even revolutionary, but it is a very difficult concept to penetrate for the average home gardener with no experience in design or ecology. And while I don’t really consider myself a permaculturalist (and certainly don’t qualify as a permaculture designer), I would like to spend this Saturday and next introducing the permaculture concept and outlining ways we might be able to apply it in our gardens.

As with all concepts, it’s worth starting with a definition. The Oxford English Dictionary defines permaculture as “the development or maintenance of an ecosystem intended to be self-sustaining and to satisfy the living requirements of its inhabitants, esp. by the use of renewable resources”. That hardly pins the concept to the mat, so let’s expand a bit with some history.

The term Permaculture” is a portmanteau of permanent culture, and permanent agriculture. The concept originated in the mid 1970′s when a young ecology student, David Holmgren, and his lecturer at the University of Tasmania, Bill Mollison, published an article in Tasmania’s Organic Farmer and Gardener Magazine. This article was soon followed by an interview on ABC radio, and in 1978, Holmgren and Mollison’s seminal book on the concept, Permaculture One: A perennial Agriculture for Human Settlements.

Sadly, the two visionaries have since gone their separate ways. Mollison, who still lives in Tassie, has focussed on education, believing that permaculture could spread exponentially by teaching students, who would in turn teach others, and so on. He taught the first Permaculture Design Course (known as PDC’s by Permies) at Stanley in Tasmania, in 1979, and thousands of PDC’s have been taught around the world in the years since.

David Holmgren took a different approach. With permaculture gaining widespread publicity, he retreated to a smallholding in Victoria to quietly test his ideas. In 2002, he re-emerged with Permaculture – Principles and Pathways Beyond Sustainability a landmark book that reinterpreted permaculture’s fundamental design principles as a creative adaptation to the decline in non-renewable sources of energy such as oil. I’ll talk more about these principles next week.

Until then, I want to conclude this week’s column by mentioning the three ethics at the core of the Permaculture concept. In Permaculture One, Mollison and Holmgren described these as: Care for the Earth; Care for People; and Fair Share. The first ethic is self explanatory. The second suggests that all people should have access to what they need to live a safe, and healthy life. The third is a principle that most gardening and farming models overlook, and is based on the ethic we’re all taught as kids – only take what you need, and share the rest. Some permies call this, “return of the surplus”.

While some elements of permaculture are ripe for critique, I confess to having a great admiration for any movement that is built upon a set of foundational ethics like those above. What’s more, I believe they are the right ethics to build upon. We’re living in an age when most big, established institutions – business, politics and religion – are being white-anted from within by self interest and a desperation to cling to the status quo. In some cases, ethical foundations rotted away years ago. Permaculture offers a creative response.

Next week – The Principles of Permaculture Design

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 30th April, 2011.

My garlic order arrived this week. In this era of email and texting, it’s even more of a thrill to receive old fashioned mail through the post, especially when the contents are gardening related. So I was excited to open a parcel containing two heritage garlic varieties that I’ve never tried before, ‘Mexican Purple Stripe’ and the exotically named ‘Rojo de Castro’.

‘Mexican Purple Stripe’ was introduced into the Californian garlic industry by chef Steve Morrison, who found the variety at a local Hispanic market. It’s classed as a “Turban”, which is a group of garlic varieties that produce a central flower stalk with a turban-like cap. Mexican matures early, produces fat bulbs, and are made to be eaten fresh rather than stored for a long period of time.

‘Rojo de Castro’ is classed as a Creole variety, and was introduced to California from Spain back in 1991. It is named after the infamous Cuban dictator, and comes highly recommended by Tasmanian smallholding guru Paul Healy. Paul grows Rojo specifically for use in worming his flock of Barnevelder chooks, arguing that the variety contains high levels of sulphur compounds. I’m also planning to use Rojo for this purpose, but can’t wait to test this variety’s performance in the kitchen.

Apart from these new varieties I’ve successfully grown three others here at Hampton: ‘Glen Large’, ‘Australian White’, and ‘Monaro Purple’. All have done well in our cool climate, but Glen Large is of particular interest to Queensland growers. For one, it has local origins, being bred at Gatton Research Station. Two, it is a day length neutral variety.

This trait is significant, since garlic generally forms bulbs in response to lengthening daylight hours as winter turns to spring. The closer to the equator you live, the harder it’s going to be to get bulbs to form since day and night hours are equal and change very little over the course of a year. Toowoomba is about 27 degrees south.

Theoretically we have enough variation in day length to trigger bulb formation, and to date, I’ve had no trouble getting bulbs to form on all the varieties I’ve tried so far. But for ease of cultivation, Glen Large might be the variety to try. Being day length neutral you simply plant it in the first fortnight of March, and harvest in September after a period in the ground of seven months.

For home growers, garlic is a worthwhile, if time consuming crop to grow in the garden. Its value comes from the fact that much of what is available in the supermarkets, particularly in winter, is imported garlic from China or Mexico. As a condition of entry into Australia, imported garlic is treated with various chemicals, and is often bleached and dipped in fungicide.

So I prefer to grow my own using organic methods. The plants prefer a free draining, fertile soil prepared with rotted manure, some blood and bone and perhaps a handful of lime per square metre if your ground is acidic. Keep the bulbs in tact until planting time in March-April, then break off and plant the individual cloves around 10cm deep and 20cm apart. Water in well, and keep the soil evenly moist. Start fertilising fortnightly with fish emulsion once the plants have grown four to five leaves. Mulch to prevent weeds.

In about September-October (perhaps as late as November) your crop should be ready for harvest. Some people judge maturity by the number of green or dying leaves on the plant, but my advice is to have a poke in the soil and check the bulbs. If they’re a decent size and have a good covering of “skin”, dig ‘em up. If they seem a bit small, wait another week or two. Don’t hold off for too long, however, as there’s every chance that the bulbs will split open or go soft, especially in a wet spring.

Once I’ve dug my bulbs I lay them out on the soil for a few days to start drying out. Then some head straight for the kitchen, and the remainder go to a cool, airy shed to cure. This process allows the bulbs to dry out in a semi-controlled environment, so to help them along, I either hang the bulbs by the foliage in bunches of six, or I spread them out on a rack.

One final tip: save your best, biggest bulbs for replanting next autumn. This has to be one of the best aspects of garlic growing, and means that over time, you’ll end up with your own strain of garlic that’s become adapted to your individual climate and soil. You might even want to give it a name. How does Russell’s Purple Passion sound?

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 5th March 2011. Photo by Jess Sloss via flickr.com

Finally, after weeks of determination, our chooks have decided to abandon their quest to hatch a clutch of nonexistent eggs. Our rooster, Long John Silver (we keep Silver Grey Dorkings) gave up the ghost earlier last year and he now rests peacefully below a thriving Meyer lemon tree. Despite the fact that chickens can’t possibly fertilise eggs without a cockerel, the girls, undeterred, went into a collective state of broodiness back in November. They sat tight for three months, only reluctantly leaving the nest when we removed them to get some daily rations of food and water.

A really clucky hen can brood until it dies, so we were a bit concerned that ours would end up under fruit trees like their former suitor. But just last week they came good. We shut them out of their nesting area for a few days and, lo and behold, the broodiness ceased. I’m happy to report that our Dorkings are now doing all the things we expect of them, besides laying eggs. These will come soon enough, and to be honest, they aren’t my only motivation for keeping chooks.

As much as I love my bacon and eggs on a Saturday morning, I’m just as interested in some of the other benefits a small flock of chooks can offer the gardener. Take chook poo for example. Not pretty stuff when you step on a poo landmine while walking barefoot across the lawn, but for the most part chicken manure is magic stuff in the garden. Many gardeners believe that fertilisers and soil conditioners need to be imported, but what they haven’t discovered are the wonders of manure and compost. The latter requires hardly any space to make, and with a few chooks scratching about the place you’ll have a steady supply of free fertility.

A word of caution, however, before you start throwing chook poo all over your flower beds: chickens don’t urinate, which implies that their manure is high in nitrates. If you apply it “hot” it can burn the plant roots, so make a pile and let the manure age for a couple of months. An even better idea is to use the manure in a home compost heap.

At my place we keep our chooks according to the “deep litter” method. Basically, this involves housing the birds in permanent, fenced run with an attached shed where the birds can roost, get out of the rain and nest. The floor of both run and shed are covered with a 20-30cm layer of absorbent material such as straw. Most of our fruit and vegetable scraps get thrown to the chooks, and these are recycled in the form of eggs and manure. The manure is dropped onto the straw and then the birds combine everything together as they scratch about in search of food. Brilliant!

After a month or two, this combined straw, scrap and manure litter has partly decomposed, making it the perfect material for bulking out a compost heap or for applying to the vegie patch as nutrient rich mulch. To ensure the soil in the chook pen doesn’t become too acidic, we throw a handful of garden lime per square metre onto the dirt, and this gets topped with a fresh layer of straw. The whole process is repeated every month or two, resulting in a steady supply of compostable litter.

If you’re short on space, there are alternative housing options. You can allow your birds to free range through the garden during the day and lock them securely in a small night house at sunset. Or you can house the birds in a chicken tractor, which is a mobile pen that gets moved regularly onto a fresh patch of ground. The tractor can help keep your lawn short and green, or you can integrate it into a vegie patch to clean up spent crops and manure the ground ahead the next lot of plants.

As for breeds, I enthusiastically recommend the heritage breeds over hybrid layers, and keep them for some of the same reasons I grow heritage fruit and vegies – preserving biodiversity, suitability for backyard growers and so on. Pure breeds such as Barnevelders, Australorps, Pekins, Sussex, Orpingtons, Wyandottes and Dorkings tend to have a calm temperament, lay plenty of eggs for the average family, and make good mothers if you hope to do some breeding. You can find plenty of pure breeds for sale on websites such as farmstock.com.au.

Manure and whatever else beside, the truth is that I missed the girls when they went broody, and I’m glad to see them scratching about cheerfully in their run. I simply couldn’t imagine having a garden without some chooks.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 5th February, 2011. Photo by Justin Russell – Fergus Russell holding a Silver Grey Dorking hen.

Our relationship with food is changing. Some of us are growing, harvesting, cooking with, and eating, our own. Others are buying local, seeking out and purchasing food grown within an hour’s drive from home. More and more are waking up to the fact that their daily bread doesn’t magically appear on the supermarket shelves, but is the end product of a complex, and mostly hidden, supply chain.

Finally, it’s dawning on us that everything that goes in our mouths and fuels our bodies has a source. Someone, somewhere planted and tended the apple tree that bore the shiny red piece of fruit you had for morning tea. Same goes for the chicken you ate for dinner. And the wheat used to make the sandwich you had for lunch. And the sugar used to sweeten your morning coffee. Ad infinitum.

The associated reality is that the vast majority of the food we purchase from our local Coles or Woolies is practically anonymous. A label on the packaging or the price ticket might say “Product of Australia”, but for me, that’s small comfort. Where in Australia was the product grown? By whom was it grown, and what farming methods were used to produce it? Where was it packed? How was it transported?

Worse still the label might say “Product of California” or “Packed in NZ” or more likely, “Mix of Local and Imported Ingredients”. I’d have to be very determined indeed to trace the origins of every item in my trolley, and you could guarantee that at every turn, my efforts would be met with resistance by the giant food corporations who would prefer to keep their factory-style production methods a secret.

Some food growers, mostly small farmers and market gardeners, are taking an approach opposite to that of the industrial food barons. They’re embracing accountability. At the forefront of this movement is Joel Salatin.

Salatin is the patriarch of a relatively small, family run farm in Virginia’s picturesque Shenandoah Valley. He describes himself as a “Christian-libertarian-environmentalist-capitalist-lunatic-farmer”, but in reality is probably the world’s leading practitioner-advocate of farming that is local, humane, natural and yet innovative.

His Polyface Farm services more than 3000 families, 10 retail outlets, and 50 restaurants through on farm sales and local buying clubs. Salatin is vehemently opposed to industrial scale agriculture. His alternative is focussed on husbandry, both of the soil and the animals within his care, and transparency. One of the guiding principles stated on the Polyface website is that “Anyone is welcome to visit the farm anytime.  No trade secrets, no locked doors, every corner is camera-accessible.” Some farmers are offering guided farm tours and holding open days in an effort to develop a relationship with their customers, but when it comes to integrity, Salatin is a kind of agrarian high priest.

The good news is that Joel Salatin is currently in Australia on a lecture tour and will be appearing in Brisbane for one night only on the 4^th December.  As a speaker, Salatin is dynamite. He possesses the rare combination of vibrant intellect, practical wisdom and a healthy dose of wit. But the trait that fills venues around the world is an incredible sense of optimism. Salatin is literally walking the talk. His methods have been refined over three decades, and the proof, as they say, is in the pudding.

I’d encourage anyone interested in gardening, farming, local economies, organics, or those who are simply keen to hear a smart cookie speak about stuff that matters to make the trip to Brisbane next Saturday night. During the previous decade, we saw the emergence of the celebrity chef – think Jamie Oliver, Nigella Lawson, Maggie Beer, Kylie Kwong et al. My tip is that the current decade will witness the rise of the celebrity farmer, and to a large extent, home food production. We’ve reconnected with the kitchen. Now it’s time to reconnect with the ingredients, and the people that produce them. In this regard, I can think of no better exemplar than Joel Salatin. Check him out!

Joel Salatin will speak at Brisbane’s Northey Street City Farm from 6pm to 9pm on December 4^th, 2010. Limited tickets available at the door – book in advance by visiting the RegenAG website at www.regenag.com/workshops/joel-salatin-public-talks/.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 27th November 2010. Image courtesy Participant Media.

Has anyone seen the current TV ad from well known Australian gardening company Yates? If you have, does it frustrate you as much as it does me? I’ll explain. The ad depicts a gardener pulling out a lone plantain weed by hand, before suggesting to the viewer that there’s an easier way to deal with weeds – spray them with a chemical herbicide and walk away.

Are we so obsessed with convenience that we have to spray every weed in sight, no matter how easy they might be to remove manually? Or is the ad simply another example of a big corporation creating a need where one doesn’t currently exist? Either way, I think it’s one of the dumbest ads the gardening industry has devised. It fails dismally to give a true picture of why and how weed control is best undertaken. So let’s broaden the discussion, starting with the classic definition of what constitutes a weed.

Put simply, a weed is a plant growing in the wrong place. Every plant is native to somewhere, but problems arise when certain plants spread beyond their native habitat to compete with native plants from a similar habitat. Australia plays host to some nasty weeds that can wreck good quality agricultural land and choke waterways. Some are poisonous, others are especially prolific, lots are simply undesirable and therefore, unwelcome. The wrong plant in the wrong place, worthy of eradication.

But let’s face it. Some weeds are more benign. Many aren’t particularly invasive, plenty are attractive, and more than a few are useful as food or medicine. My approach with these less problematic weeds is mostly one of live and let live. For evidence of this approach, you ought to look no further than my lawn.

With my tongue only half planted in my cheek, it’s fair to say that I like the traditional “mixed herbage” style of lawn. I don’t get overly fussy about weed control and I actually welcome a weed like clover, which being a legume, fixes nitrogen in its roots and increases the fertility of the soil. Plus it looks very pretty at this time of the year and as we can all testify, is one of the best plants for attracting bees to help pollinate my fruit trees.

This doesn’t mean that I turn a blind eye to every weed, however. I’m engaged in a long running struggle to keep plants like plantain and shepherd’s purse in some kind of order. Nor is it safe to assume from my comments at the start of this article, that I never use herbicides. On occasion I do, but my intent is always to take the gentlest option.

So for the most part, weed control in my garden is a manual affair. Those weeds that can be easily pulled from the ground, we pull. Some have persistent roots and a tool is needed. I can recall that as a kid, my Mum used to patrol the lawn on hands and knees lifting weeds with the aid of an old kitchen knife. She still does it to this day. The technique works just as well as it always did, and costs nothing but a bit of time and effort.

Other weeds are easily controlled with heat. This bursts the cell walls of plant foliage and can be simply applied in the form of boiling water from the jug, steam, or a flame gun. Mum told me once that my Pa used a flame gun in his Brisbane market garden, and though they’re not commonly available these days, can be sourced from specialist mail order suppliers.

None of these techniques will work on more vigorous woody weeds, so when eradication is highly justified or mandated by law, the use of a herbicide may be a necessary compromise. There are some certified organic products on the market, but to date, have required multiple applications to be effective and work only on less persistent weeds, making them expensive.

Chemical herbicides are cheap and effective. But they’re not without cost. All are toxic to some degree, and some of the nastier products have had devastating health effects on people and the environment. None are allowed under organic certification standards. Even glyphosate (commonly sold as Roundup and Zero) isn’t as safe as the marketers have made out, so use chemicals cautiously and only as a last resort.

Ultimately what you do in your garden is mostly up to you. If you want to spray a weed rather than pull it, you will. The best advice I can offer with weeds is to consider the health of your family and your neighbours, do the right thing by the environment, and if chemical weed control is required, always choose the lesser of two evils.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 9th October 2010. Photo by Justin Russell – Thistlebrook.

As a counterpoint to last week’s Secret Garden, which suggested that we ought to make peace with the natural world, I want to talk this week about one of the most destructive insects on the Downs – Queensland fruit fly. If any native insect can be fairly regarded as a pest it’s Bactrocera tryoni. Without some form of intervention, it will breed to plague proportions and happily render an entire crop of fruit inedible. Does this advice contradict what I wrote last week? Not on your nelly. There are very sound practical and social reasons to control fruit flies in the home garden.

Before we discuss the various control strategies, it helps to understand what we’re actually trying to control. Queensland fruit fly looks like a cross between a housefly and a wasp about seven millimetres long. It is a native insect that occurs naturally along the subtropical east coast of Australia where it can build up in huge numbers during the summer, particularly after periods of warm, humid weather. Colder areas like Stanthorpe offer some resistance by way of winter frosts. Here, numbers build later in the season compared to relatively frost free zones, where the flies can become a problem as early as September.

Almost all fruiting plants are susceptible to fruit fly damage. The female lays her eggs in a piece of ripening fruit, and after an incubation period of just a couple of days, maggots hatch out, spoil the flesh and often cause the fruit to drop onto the ground. To help break the breeding cycle, good hygiene is vital. Clean up any fallen fruit or let chooks into the orchard to do it for you. Monitoring is also helpful. Now, late winter is the time to hang one of the various bait stations (available from nurseries) in the orchard and it should be checked weekly to get an indication of how fly populations are going. Once flies start to appear in the traps,  control strategies should be implemented.

When you boil it down there are three main ways to reduce fruit fly damage: one is to spray with a toxic chemical; another is to spray/bait with a certified organic product; and the third is to exclude the flies from ripening fruit.

Short of moving to Tassie, where fruit flies don’t exist, the surest guarantee of an undamaged crop is by spraying a chemical such as Lebaycid. For me this simply isn’t an option. One of the reasons I grow fruit at home is to take back control over the stuff I put in my mouth from the dictates of multinational companies. In my backyard I choose not to use toxic chemicals already banned in lots of developed countries overseas, and the majority of backyard growers I’ve talked to do likewise.

This leaves two poison-free options for dealing with fruit fly: organic baits and exclusion. Baits have been around for years and lots of gardeners make their own using various foul smelling concoctions. These home made baits tend to be almost useless, at best attracting only the male. The females won’t enter small holes, so they fly off to mate with the blokes down the road. Hussies!

A better choice is a certified organic product such as EcoNaturalure. This next generation bait contains a natural insecticide called spinosad, and works by attracting both male and female flies with a protein rich lure. The product is “splashed” onto the trunks of trees or sprayed onto boards hung throughout the orchard. If you follow the manufacturer’s instructions closely you should get a success rate of about 75 to 80 percent  undamaged fruit, but there’s one major downside. In warm districts, EcoNaturalure needs to be applied weekly from early spring until all fruit is harvested.

The other non-toxic strategy is exclusion. This works by either slipping a purpose made bag over ripening fruit, preventing access to the female flies, or by using fine weave netting to cover an entire tree. Exclusion is highly effective, however slipping a bag on every piece of fruit is very tedious, even for the most dedicated amateur. Netting is more convenient, but can be quite costly for a large home orchard.

All things considered, my approach here at Thistlebrook is to use the right control strategy for the right situation. For shy bearing plants, exclusion bags work a treat, but in my espalier apple orchard, for example, I’m planning to use fruit fly netting. In all I have more than fifty fruiting trees in the garden so the most effective, economical and practical solution is organic baiting. There’s no doubt that I’m making a compromise. But it’s a compromise I’m prepared to make for the sake of home grown fruit that’s abundant, delicious and chemical free.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 28th August 2010. Photo by Kathy Kimpel via flickr.com.