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Published on Leave a comment on Humor

Humor

Jimmy decided to sit down and write a letter to Santa Clause. He started writing...

Dear Santa,
I have been very good this year.

After thinking about it, Jimmy thought; Santa knows whether I've been good. He'll know if I am not telling the truth. He crumpled up the letter and started over.

 

           Dear Santa,
           I tried really hard to be good this year. I didn't fight
           with my brother...

Again, he knew Santa would know better so he crumpled up this letter and started another.

          Dear Santa,
          This year I was pretty good, I improved over last year. 
          I didn't fight too much with my brother. I kept my
          room clean...

He crumpled up this letter, too. A pile of crumpled letters were scattered across the floor. Glancing over at the nativity scene on the mantle, Jimmy had an idea. He grabbed the figurine of Mary and wrapped her in tissue. He placed her in a box, taped it shut, and hid it under his bed. He started writing a new letter.
This time he decided to write to a higher authority.  He wrote...

             Dear God,
             If you ever want to see your mother again...

(Thank you to Pastor Hahn of the Norway Lutheran Church, St Olaf, IA for sharing this with our congregation)

Published on Leave a comment on Merry Christmas!
When I was a girl my dad made us a spectacular yard display of Disney characters that hung from a huge tinsel Christmas tree. It became the centerpiece of our yard every year. It was a mobile with handsomely painted cutouts that turned in the breeze.  Floodlights displayed every detail that my mom and dad painted into each piece. Once it was lit after Thanksgiving my sister and I knew knew Christmas was close. Putting up this display became our family tradition every year.

Christmas display

Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home!  Charles Dickens

Are you busy?  During the hectic schedule of the season have you forgotten a much loved tradition?  You never know when inspiration will strike you again. Keith was delivering beef this fall to customers in Cedar Rapids who asked if he'd like to see their train layout. It was spectacular. The details spoke volumes about the character and labor of love that went into this setup.  When the boys were younger Keith surprised them one Christmas morning with a train layout. It surrounded the Christmas tree and on the tracks were cars that reflected each of the boy's personalities. They were thrilled. The train circled the track and went through a mountain range. At the top of the mountain was the platform that held the tree. It was a small tree with monumental presence.  Ceramic houses, a bakery, toy store, and church lit up the layout. In the center of the town was the churchyard with a manger surrounded by Magi and angels. Street lights lined the path to the train station complete with Santa and his sleigh on the rooftop. For years Christmas mornings greeted us with a new train to welcome the day. Keith kept the new train a secret until morning. One year it was a Puffer Belly blowing smoke, another year it was a troop train from WWll. As the years passed the layout has become tired, in need of repair. It's been in the basement collecting dust and was almost forgotten until a spark of Christmas past ignited and reminded us of the joy in Christmas mornings. This Christmas it will be lovingly restored. I can't wait to see which train will greet us.

Merry Christmas!

 

Published on Leave a comment on November Blizzard

The pheasants, ducks, and geese all knew.  Even the domesticated farm birds knew a large storm was heading into Iowa. Many hunters and farmers, however, were caught off guard. It was an unseasonably warm day for November. A few ducks floated on the Mississippi River but as the morning progressed more and more waterfowl landed. At first by the hundreds, then thousands, and by late morning, tens of thousands of ducks had arrived. Inland the farm fields were full of wild geese. They gathered and called to other chevrons circling above.  Armistice Day, November 11, 1940, Don was thirteen. He and his younger brother were excited to have the day off from school. They spent the morning doing chores in their shirtsleeves, it was above fifty degrees outside. They could hear geese calling in the fields. The trees along the timber had pheasants roosting in them.

Around noon a friend stopped by, he'd heard the river was full of ducks and wanted the brothers to go hunting with him. The mass landing of waterfowl had hunters and farmers grabbing their guns and rushing out. Don's mother 'had a bad feeling'. Her boys had to stay home. She instructed them to get the chickens inside their coop. Instead they began playing ball. A short while later their mother came out and pointed to the trees in the chicken yard which were filled with their laying flock. The flock's behavior was alarming.

The boys started climbing after the chickens. As they climbed the birds moved higher into the top branches. The 300 laying hens were handed down, one at a time, to their two sisters and mother who waited below. By the time the hens were locked into the coop gale force winds were rushing out of the timber bringing cold rain. Soon it turned into ice. By mid afternoon heavy snow was falling, visibility was near zero.

Throughout Iowa snow drifts twenty feet high buried thousands of cattle and killed countless poultry including over a million Thanksgiving turkeys. Unprepared for the temperature plunge, hunters sought shelter on the islands along the river. The waves were too dangerous and too strong for them to get safely back to shore. By the next morning more than one hundred-fifty duck hunters had frozen to death or drowned. Hundreds more lost digits or limbs to frostbite.

The storm's aftermath forever changed farming in western Iowa. Before November 11, 1940, Iowa was a leading apple producing state, second only to Michigan.  Winterset, Iowa was the birthplace of the Delicious apple. The original apple tree that produced the 'delicious' apple, originally called the 'Hawkeye' apple, propagated more than ten thousand saplings which were sent around the world for orchard production. The Armistice day storm devastated orchards in western Iowa when tremendous ice and winds brought down limbs and knocked over trees. The declining economy and threat of war made it difficult for farmers to borrow money to replace the trees. Apple trees were expensive and production would take years to return an income. Instead their ground was turned into row crop production. Corn replaced apples and fruit. By the spring of 1941 only 15% of the orchard trees in western Iowa remained.

The original 'Hawkeye' apple tree was split in two during the storm. The following spring a new sprout grew in the middle of the split. The sprout was propagated and remains in Madison County, Iowa today surrounded by a fence and a commemorative plaque.

 

Published on Leave a comment on Organic Farming

Organic FarmingOrganic Farming

The other day I had my annual physical, yuck. I was certain that the doctor would comment on my age, activity level, overall health, but she didn’t. Instead she asked more questions about  our family’s medical history. It made me think about how differently we live today in comparison with our relatives only a couple of generations back. Someday medical history might become inconsequential because of the dramatic changes in diet and the environment. There’s a barrage of chemical and genetic assaults that our grandparents, parents, or anyone born prior to 1996 weren’t exposed to.  There’s no history of cancer, heart disease, or diabetes in our family. However, food was produced differently.

Meat came from farms where animals grazed, lived outdoors, and foraged. Antibiotic use wasn’t a casual addition to feed like it is in today’s factory farming. Today drugs are fed to animals as if sprinkling sugar on cereal. Is there a plan to combat future antibiotic resistance? Added to this threat is the introduction of antibiotics into the DNA structure of genetically engineered plants. For a thorough look into genetic engineering I highly recommend the book Seeds of Deception.

Our grandparents and parents weren’t raised on overly processed, nutritionally vacant food. My grandmother’s mashed potatoes were made from real potatoes. She didn’t open a box and pour potato flakes into a dish and add water. She washed, peeled, boiled, and mashed them herself. Foods rich in nutrients and minerals (absorbed through healthy, chemical free soil) were eaten. Food was bought raw and taken home to prepare. There was a time, not too long ago, when every farm was “organic.”

During World War II victory gardens were a patriotic contribution in supporting the war effort. In both city and suburban yards poultry, rabbits, vegetables, and fruits were grown. One family might have an abundance of squash, another an excess of tomatoes to exchange. Families baked, canned and stored food. They took care of themselves. Milk was the number one drink for growing children not soda or sports drinks. In our house if you wanted to grow you drank milk, if you were thirsty you drank water. Milk didn’t contain bovine growth hormones and cows still ate grass. Imagine that, cows grazed, how absurd! Dairy’s were family run operations not mega factories moving cows on conveyors for around the clock milking cycles.

The countryside was populated with diverse family farms. Very few were mono-species operations.  In our area most farms had a flock of laying hens and meat birds. The eggs and dressed chickens were sold to supplement the family budget. Our neighbor’s mother bought a player piano with her 'egg money', another took orders on Saturday morning for dressed chickens which were delivered on Sunday's following church.  Her chicken sales paid the tuition for her children’s college.

Not too long ago hogs were considered the “mortgage lifter.” They payed off  farm debt and enabled farm growth. Dairy farmers usually kept pigs. They sold the cream. The whey was poured into barrels with grain added to feed the pigs.  Each fall, after harvest, animals were turned into fields to forage and fertilize. Manure, uncontaminated with drugs or chemicals, was spread across fields to boost organic matter in the soil. Erosion was controlled by grazing steep ground rather than  planting row crops on it. Crops were rotated. The impact that each crop had on the soil was calculated into the rotational process. Building soil was essential to the success of the farm and critical to the environment.

Soil health is in jeopardy. Erosion and chemical run-off threaten clean water supply. Confinement animal operations feed livestock a diet of pharmaceuticals. Genetically engineered crops  are invading all plant species from weeds to corn. This science is still new but studies indicate that feeding genetically engineered crops threatens the health of both livestock and the end consumer. In the future will the medical community stop looking at family history for the answers to our current health deficits? Will crop scientists be held accountable for poor health? And most importantly, is there an 'off switch' to all this genetic engineering?

The answer might be organic farming.

More food for thought.

"Health nuts are going to feel
stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.”

 

 

Published on Leave a comment on Goodbye Summer

Last week's storm had me breathing a sigh of relief. I'm hopeful that the summer drought pattern is being replaced with soaking fall rains. The few summer storms we've had haven't brought significant accumulation. Unfortunately though, along with the rain came hail. I couldn't sleep because I was waiting for the skylights to shatter. They didn't. I was also unnecessarily concerned for our calves. They can fend for themselves but I still think about them. The pigs are always fine. They go into their pasture huts or hoop building as do the sheep. The shed provides plenty of protection for them.

The cool crisp nights are a certain sign that fall's on its way.  Another sign that fall is coming is the incessant sound of crickets. During last week's storm when the hail stopped, the cricket, whose been hiding in our room all week, started chirping. Apparently he was listening to the storm too. After searching for him unsuccessfully I've determined that crickets can throw their voices across the room. Certain that I'd located him, he began singing from somewhere far off. Counting their chirps gives an accurate reading of the temperature, but I was less interested in counting cricket chirps and more interested in counting sheep. The cricket wanted to be heard. This went on throughout the night but this morning our goofy kitten came bounding out of the closet batting at a cricket. It looks like tonight will be peaceful again.

Last week the pasture was full of wild geese.  This year they've started traveling earlier than I ever remember. Their flyovers have been steadily increasing with the shortening days. Our dogs know better than to bother the wild geese. Instead they watch them from the safety of the hilltop where a wire fence clearly divides the boundary. The corn harvest is also underway starting earlier as well. The Asian Beetles (I refuse to call them ladybugs) are clustered into every corner, covering each window pane.  Vacuuming them up seems to make even more of them magically appear. They're sneaky, smelly little bugs and even the chickens avoid them. There aren't too many insects that the chickens avoid.

Racing against the weather to get our hay put up wasn't an issue this year. Instead, finding hay at a reasonable price was. Our neighbor with CRP grass saved us again. He's been wonderful to us since we moved to this farm. With permission from Farm Service Agency we were able to rent a portion of his field. It's been mowed, baled, and it's ready for winter feeding. We won't be culling cows. Our herd is safe thanks to the help of our family and our friend. The cattle coats are thickening, the horses also have a light layer of winter growth, and the starlings have gathered earlier and are swarming in the treetops. Great masses of them fly in group formation and throw acorns out of the trees. The pigs are quite happy with this arrangement. Several trees have shed their leaves already, not because of fall, but because of the drought.
Lastly, the farmers market comes to a close this Saturday. It's a bitter sweet ending to another season. We love the markets, the crowds, and our customers. Saturday mornings are never quite the same. They feel empty. When spring returns we are eager to get back to the business of the summer.  As this market season ends we humbly thank you for your patronage and wish you all the best.

Warmest wishes,
Glenda and Keith

Food For Thought:
Only a few will learn from other people's mistakes; most of us have to be the other people.

Back To School Humor

Rick, having served his time with the Marine Corps, took a new job as a high school teacher, but just before the school year started, he injured his back.

He was required to wear a plaster cast around the upper part of his body. Fortunately, the cast fit under his shirt and wasn't noticeable. On the first day of class, he found himself assigned to the toughest kids in the school.

The punks, having heard the new teacher was a former Marine, were leery of him and decided to see how tough he really was. They started acting rowdy and opened all the windows so their new teacher's papers blew off his desk.

The strong breeze also made his tie flap so he picked up a stapler and promptly stapled his tie to his chest.

There was dead silence in his classroom and absolutely no trouble from his students for the rest of the year.

     Seize the Bees!

The Illinois Department of Agriculture
seized privately owned bees from naturalist Terrence Ingram who has been raising them for  58 years. Ingram was actively researching   Roundup's effects on bees. Prairie Advocate News reports that before a court hearing on the matter or issuance of a search warrant the bees were seized. Read the story here

 

A couple of years ago, when I was writing a weekly column for the local paper, I was given an old calendar. Each month featured a quotation or concept. This is the page from July 1958. It's from the KVP company in Kalamazoo, Michigan.  Dwight D.Eisenhower was the president. The KVP company manufactured food protection paper and food wrapping papers.

 

 

Published on Leave a comment on Guess the Pet

Guess the pet

Keith came in holding a feed bag and asked me to guess what was inside. Snakes are always my first guess followed by my usual response, ‘If that's a snake you’d better get it out of here!’ He knows better than to bring a snake near me.

After reassuring me that it wasn’t a snake I started guessing.
Is it a bird?
No, it’s a baby animal.
Is it a mouse or rat? No.
Is it a raccoon? No, but you’re close.

He reached inside the bag and pulled out a very small opossum which was clinging to his hand with his tail wrapped around Keith’s finger. She has huge pink ears and delicate pink toes, beady little eyes, and a very prominent pouch. An opossum is the only marsupial in America. Keith found her crawling on the road, her mom had been killed. We rarely find young, wild animals on the road in the fall. I named her Irving after my mother’s uncle who also had small eyes, large ears, and gray hair. I called our local DNR agent to ask how we should care for Irving or where we should take her for care. At the moment she's in a warm box and being fed applesauce and milk.

Published on Leave a comment on Happy Anniversary
Adam and Eve never had a date...they had an apple.

He's Still the one  
It all started twenty-five years ago with tickets to a Jimmy Buffett concert. The line of cars waiting to pull into the parking lot was long. It was July 3rd, 1987. Traffic on the Kennedy expressway was bumper to bumper. For over thirty minutes we sat waiting for traffic to move ahead. At this rate the concert would be over before we'd get in. Instead of waiting we changed plans and flew to Las Vegas.
Nevada was great. Hoover Dam, Lake Mead, and the fourth of July celebration that ignited the dessert (which was still burning two days later when we flew home) made this the best first date in history. Deciding the adventure should continue we got married five weeks later. Today we're celebrating 25 years together. It sounds like such a long time - a quarter of a century, but years have gone by amazingly fast. We've had a few fights over the years, nothing serious. However, there has been one ongoing battle that's insignificant in the big scheme of life. It's an issue that's never been resolved: I clean the kitchen while Keith's still using it.  While Keith's organizing his ingredients I'll follow behind him putting them away before he's had a chance to use them. I've been known to wash pans and put them away before they've even been used.
The biggest debate has been spoons. Whenever Keith uses a spoon, or any kitchen utensil for that matter, he leaves it on the counter top. When I see them I put them away. This is usually followed by a brief argument. Keith will ask, "Did you take my spoon?"
Looking at the ceiling and shrugging my shoulders, which is my usual response, I'll ask, "What spoon?"
"The one I was just using and put down less than a second ago. Stop cleaning up after me, I'll put everything away when I'm done."
After all this time together I know he won't put it away when he's done. He's to accustomed to having me clean up after him, or before him in this case. I'm efficient. Keith thinks I am annoying. The war rages on.
This weekend we're putting our twenty-five years to the test. We'll be making cheese together. I like to cook and Keith loves cheese.  Our three Jersey cows and Lulu, the Holstein are part of the celebration. They'll be bringing milk to the party, plenty of milk. In the past we've made goat cheese and ricotta cheese but for this project we Purchased kits which include supplies and recipes to make cheddar, mozzarella, farmers cheese, and ricotta. I'm going to line up several spoons for Keith to use. When one is cleaned up another will be ready. No more arguments, at least not about spoons.
During our twenty-five years together we've gardened, flown, bought a small farm, planted trees, raised livestock, bought our first bull, bought a bigger farm, traveled, lost our hair (Keith), lost our hair color (Glenda), enjoyed our dogs, raised a couple unique pets, and have had two great kids (ages nineteen and fifteen). We can't wait to see what the next twenty-five years will hold.

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Published on 1 Comment on Small Scale Farming and Our Resistance to Genetic Engineering

I realized that I’ve never explained the reason for my opposition to Genetically Engineered crops. Twenty one years ago we bought a small place in the country, three and a half acres, and started gardening, raising chickens, and pigs.  We fed them garden surplus and non-medicated feed. The nearest farms hadn’t switched to genetically engineered seed yet so we could buy directly from the neighbors. Adding supplements and pasture provided the animals with a varied diet and made great meat. These old timers still used a rotary hoe to combat weeds and rotated their crops annually. It was unheard of for a field to have a succession of corn planted year after year. For goodness sake, cover crops were being planted, what were they thinking (this is sarcasm)!

We bought an additional ten acres, added dairy goats, and started milking. Little by little the neighboring farms were passed down to younger family members who were educated in a “modern” approach to crop science.  If the universities were praising chemicals and genetic engineering as the answer, then by golly, they must be. Common sense was replaced by corporate subsidies funding education and research. Students became indoctrinated agriculturists who believed that the seed giants and chemists had all the answers.

Monoculture farming started replacing diverse farms. Soon we were surrounded by acres and acres of single crop farm land. Livestock disappeared from the landscape. It either moved to feed lots, into confinement buildings, or off the farm completely.

Soil health became less of an issue. The soil was simply a medium to anchor the root to the ground. Nutrition came from chemical fertilization, not soil. There was a time, not very long ago, when healthy soil was all that mattered. Feed the soil, feed the ecosystem that supports the soil, feed the crop, feed the world. No longer. Now it was feed the seed company, feed the chemical company,  feed the world.  Erosion control became the new buzz word. No-till drills replaced chisel plowing, discing, and soil conditioning. With the old equipment put aside more chemical applications were required to kill weeds, kill insects and add nutrients. Compaction of soil was the next buzz word. Meanwhile, no guidelines or limits were issued concerning the grade of slope that shouldn’t be cropped. The dead zone in the Gulf grew. Creeks, streams, and rivers collected nitrogen and top soil.  Genetically modified crops were sprayed with insecticides and herbicides to increased yields significantly. More profit meant more land was converted to row crops. Genetic engineering turned a profit on average and poor cropland. Bad farming practices were rewarded with higher yields.

We bought more land and continued in our antiquated ways. Meanwhile, a large feedlot for beef cattle (three acres under roof) opened just down the road from us. It was the pride of the university animal science department. Tours, accolades, and national recognition hailed this modern feeding system.  Newspaper was printed with soy ink; shredding the newspaper provided soy feed. Mixed with feather meal (from confinement poultry barns in the area), molasses for palatability, and a small amount of corn and hay the cattle were fed for less that $0.08/per day (1994). Oh, and hormone implants added faster gain. When a television crew came to feature this farm on a nationally syndicated weekly farm show we felt that surly someone besides us would find this repulsive. No one did. More of these model systems popped up.

Now we were a family of four. Food issues were important to us, as was education. The more people who visited us and tasted the difference our methods made, the more they remembered their grandparents farms. The price for being different was great. The reward was greater and more satisfying. My wonderful grandmother use to say, “Right is right if no one does it. Wrong is wrong if everyone does it.” What’s ‘right or wrong’ isn’t decided by consensus or popularity, it’s determined by conscience. Raising animals on pasture, without antibiotics or implants, for us, was a conscientious decision. And, no one was doing it, or at least it seemed that way. Fast forward to today; the education is paying off. More small farmers are returning to rural America. Family farms create teamwork; families experience life through labor, laughter and love. We’ll continue to educate and promote healthy choices. We wouldn’t trade our antiquated ways for anything, especially since they’ve become ‘right’ again.

So I’ll be posting a three part series on Genetically engineered crops. Sometimes I’ll refer to them as genetically engineered or GE, transgenic, or GMO.  The terms are all interchangeable.

Published on Leave a comment on It’s A Worry?

Farming is stressful.  There are so many variables, the probability of failure is great.

Will we get enough rain this spring to make up for last fall’s drought?
It’s a worry.
Will the summer rain come at just the right time?
It’s a worry.
Will the summer heat be excessive and cause breeding trouble for our cattle?
It’s a worry.

“If a problem is fixable, if a situation is such that you can do something about it, then there is no need to worry. If it's not fixable, then there is no help in worrying. There is no benefit in worrying whatsoever.”  Dalai Lama XIV

We spent an enjoyable afternoon with a fellow farmer, John Henry.  John Henry has a relaxed and pleasant demeanor. He use to worry constantly about his farming practices, family life, and success. Today he doesn’t have any worries.

John Henry used to walk through his fields worrying about his crops.  Would rain bless his fields at opportune time and was his soil condition capable of producing high yields?  At night he’d stare at the ceiling worrying about his equipment.  Some of it was older, would it make it through another season?

He worried about his family.  Was he balancing family life and work obligations successfully?  John Henry started to have chest pains.  He went to the doctor.

After the exam the doctor said John Henry’s heart was fine but he was worrying too much.  “Rather than worry,” suggested the doctor, “why don’t you hire some help?”

John Henry went home and added the doctor’s advice to his list of worries. Who could he hire? How could he afford to hire help? What if the help slacked off?  What if, during the busy season, his hired man failed to come to work?  John Henry felt doomed.  How could he possibly relax when he had all these worries?

One night, as he stared at the ceiling, thoughts raced through his head. “I have to stop worrying!”  Suddenly, a brilliant idea struck him.  “Eureka!  I’ll hire someone to worry for me!  Each week I’ll give a list of worries to a hired man.”
So, he hired a man. Every week he gave a list of equipment, crop, and family concerns to his helper.  Now John Henry slept like a baby.  He became jovial, laughed, and had a renewed twinkle in his eyes.

A few weeks later he want back to the doctors office.  The doctor was impressed, he asked about the dramatic change.  “You’re in great health! Tell me, what changed?”

“Well, I followed your advice. I hired a man who takes care of all my worries.”

“Fantastic! Is he repairing your equipment and fences? Does he care for your crops and animals?”

“No.  I hired someone to worry for me.”

“What? You hired someone to worry! Do you pay for this?” asked the doctor

“I certainly do.  I pay him $10,000.00 each month.”

“$10,000.00 every month!  How can you afford this?”

John Henry shook his head, “Doesn’t matter, It’s not my worry!”

The greatest object in the universe, says a certain philosopher, is a good man struggling with adversity; yet there is still greater, which is the good man that comes to relieve it.  –Oliver Goldsmith

Farming is joyful, there are so many variables, the probability of success is great. What does the future hold?  Not my worry!
© Forest Hill Farm

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Published on 3 Comments on It’s Mushroom Time!

A sure sign of spring

Morels

It’s morel season again, if you haven’t been a mushroom hunter in the past, now’s a great time to start. Mushroom hunters will never reveal their secret mushrooming spots, but they'll share how to find them.

Pre-plan your mushrooming trip. When morels are out, so are ticks, use bug repellant. If you are hunting on private property ask permission first. Walk softly and carry a big stick, or at least walk carefully, especially around the base of trees. You’ll use the stick to move leaves and branches out of the way. You’ll be crawling under bushes and around trees, gently moving leaves, to find morels.   Bring along an onion bag or other mesh bag to carry your mushrooms. A paper grocery bag works well, too. Don’t use plastic bags. Morels hold moisture and will get slimy inside a plastic bag. Also, morels attract ants, slugs, spiders, and a host of creepy crawlers which will fall through the mesh bag and back to the ground.  The mesh will also allow spores to fall onto the ground.

The best mushroom hunting weather is just after it rains on a warm spring day. When you get to a wooded area look for dead or dying elm trees. It’s not difficult to identify an elm tree they look like a child’s drawing; straight trunk with a lollipop top. You can look around poplars but you’ll have better luck with elms. If you aren’t interested in hunting in the woods golf courses and parks are also  good spots. Garrett’s found quite a few while golfing. Not because he’s ending up in the rough but because he hunts for them while playing. I would caution that the course probably uses a plethora of chemicals, so be careful.

If you're unsure, or new to mushrooming, your local extension office will happily identify your mushrooms. False morels are dangerous, make sure you haven’t collected any. Here’s a link to help you learn more.
When you get home put your morels in cold, lightly salted water, with a dish on top to help hold them under water. I use clear pie plates to hold them down. We call this “puking” them there 's probably a better term, but it's what we've always called it. Wait a few minutes and all the bugs should be out.

"Puking" morels

Rinse them, place them on a cookie sheet lined with a dish towel or on a rack so the water drains completely. Now for the good part, you can eat them, dry them, freeze them, or sell them. I think they're best served with beef roast or tossed in a light cream sauce and served over pasta.

A word of warning...Once you start mushrooming you'll be addicted. Morel hunting creates friendly competition. Sometimes it's less than friendly. There are groups of mushroom hunters that comb the timber in our area, without permission. Wearing camouflage, carrying maps, and GPS  they're dropped  in an area  to search for morels. Several hours later  they're picked up in a designated location. These professional hunters sell the mushrooms to restaurants and gourmet shops.

Our friend has a special tree where he finds hundreds of morels every spring, it's his secret spot.  Someday he'll pass the location on to his children and grand children. For now he's extremely protective. He’s also the best walleye fisherman around, he has a secret spot along the river for that, too. I hope the professionals never find his magic tree. It's wonderful to see his face light up each spring when he recounts his morel yield.