A chicken education

The average American consumer may expect to open their carton of grocery-store eggs and see a dozen uniform specimens: all the same color, all the same ideal egg shape.

Me? I love opening a carton of farm-fresh eggs and seeing variety.

I stopped by my neighbor's farm on Friday to buy a couple dozen eggs from her, and an hour later, I'd met the hens who lay the eggs I was about to enjoy.

Each visit to this farm is an education. She keeps a couple different broods of chickens; one hardier, larger brood remains outdoors through more of the winter and produces the eggs I enjoy for breakfast. These chickens are large, and while she has many different breeds mixed together, they look like what I think of as a textbook chicken, with smooth feathers and an iconic silhouette.

All those different breeds mean that each egg is different. A carton of eggs includes at least six different shades of brown, in addition to some that are more rosy or even green, and each has its own unique shape.

My neighbor's second brood of chickens stays in a garage through most of the winter, where they're kept warm with heaters and lamps. I find these incredibly interesting—before last summer, I'd never seen chickens like Seramas and Silkies. They're each a third the size (or less) of the hardier egg-business birds outside. The Silkies are particularly striking: contrary to their name, instead of smooth, silky feathers, they instead look like they're covered in soft, fluffy fur. And they're covered in this plumage from the crowns of their heads to the tips of their toes. When you do get a look at the body beneath the feathers, their skin is black and their earlobes are royal blue. Silkies are also known for their sweet, loving temperaments.

A special treat for my visit: I got to hold a couple chicks that were only a week old. They fit in the palm of my hand and only weighed an ounce or two.

I'll be going back to the farm sometime this spring with my camera, for sure. I'd love to photograph these beautiful, interesting birds, in addition to the herd of alpacas that roams outside.

Until then, I'll just be enjoying some delicious omelettes and frittatas!

100/365 Corn, ready for harvest

It's harvest time in central Indiana!

For some reason, it seems like harvesting began earlier this year than usual, but that perception may just be due to the fact that I'm flabbergasted that we've reached the end of September. It could also be influenced by the lack of rain we've had since July, so the crops dried out sooner.

Regardless, it's now officially fall, and that means harvest time, squash time, cool-evening time, dark-morning time, and apple-cider time.

Where did the year go? Are you as shocked as I am that it's nearly October?

Camera: Canon 40D, 1/640s, f/5.6 at ISO 100 at about 5:30 p.m.

84/365 Silage harvest

I passed this corn field on my way home from work the other day, and I was surprised to see it in the middle of being harvested. Corn in this area generally isn't harvested until the end of September or October, when it's completely browned and dried out. But this was still halfway green.

So I asked Chase, my favorite expert on all things farm-related, and he told me that it's actually silage. Silage, in this case, is corn grown specifically to be cattle feed. The farm next to this field is a cattle farm with a couple different breeds, so that does make sense. I'd heard Chase mention silage before, but I'd never seen the process in action. Interesting!

Camera: Canon 40D, 1/250s, f/5.6 at ISO 100 at about 5:30 p.m.

39/365 Greener grass

Though I've never owned goats myself, I've always found them to be humorous animals. This is mostly due to their curious, intelligent, explorative nature.

It seems like whenever I pass a farm that has goats, there is always at least one animal standing on top of its shelter. They're known for being very skilled escape artists; if there is a weak spot in your fence, they'll find it and get out.

Some of them, like the one pictured here, are quite cute. I passed this guy on a walk, and he came right up to the fence to say hello. He quickly discovered that the grass on my side of the fence looked preferable to what he had, so he promptly stuck his head through a hole and got down on his knees to chow down.

It wasn't the head-through-the-fence that struck me, but the kneeling that made me laugh. Clever! I hope his lunch was worth the effort.

Camera: Canon PowerShot SD1000 at about 11:00 a.m.

14/365 Lone tree standing

Wide areas of dense trees are great, but I like seeing lone trees that have been allowed to remain standing. Especially when they're in or near farm fields.

I'd be willing to bet that at one time or another, the fate of this tree has been discussed. To fell or not to fell? It would certainly be easy to just wipe the area clean to make way for something new, whether that be a larger field or a new barn. I'm glad to see that it hasn't happened yet.

This tree has character. It doesn't look like your run-of-the-mill maple. It's not a thick and lush variety -- you can see its spindly branches all the way up near the top.

In a way, it reminds me of scenes I've seen of Africa, where the plains stretch for miles, but every once in a while, a tree has managed to grow.

I hope this one gets to stick around.

Camera: Canon 40D, 1/250s, f/8 at ISO 100 at about 5:45 p.m.

225/365 Open water and wind

Ah, Lake Michigan.

I don't often get to see expansive bodies of water (central Indiana tends to be landlocked), so just seeing the waters of the Great Lakes is a treat.

I drove up to southwestern Michigan last week with some colleagues for a meeting with a client. Their office is just about 100 yards from Lake Michigan. Luckily, it was a nice enough day that I was able to venture to the edge for a few quick photos before we headed home. (My traveling companions were very generous with their patience.)

The drive from Indianapolis to Michigan on I-65 offers an interesting sight as well: two expansive wind farms.

I'm a definite supporter of collecting energy in this way, and these farms along I-65 are the first I've seen in person. I find it very interesting, mesmerizing... and foreign. The turbines are massive and remind me of something I'd see in a science fiction movie, like Contact (with Jodie Foster).

Here's a photo that really illustrates their scale if you've never seen one before:

Each is bright white, supported on narrow posts, with three blades making up the turbine itself. What's most amazing about this particular farm is the sheer number of individual turbines -- they literally stretch for miles. Hundreds of them dot this landscape.

Indiana doesn't have the most favorable conditions for farms like this, which is part of the reason I've never actually seen one before. The first time we drove by this farm, very few of the turbines were spinning. On this day, all (or close to all) were in motion.

I'd call it a successful day -- good client meeting, and two new photo opportunities.

Camera: Canon 40D, 1/500s, f/5.6 and f/8 at ISO 100 between 1:00 and 3:30 p.m.

195/365 Near-harvest soybeans

I've been itching to get a close-up photo of some near-harvest soybeans for a couple weeks.

On Sunday morning, the light was finally perfect, I had the right camera in hand, and I made my move.

I've never considered soybeans to be a terribly attractive plant or crop. You see lots of people decorating for fall with dried cornstalks around their houses, but you never (or rarely) see dried soybeans used in such a way.

The remaining stalk is just a bare stick, and the soybean pods grow fairly sparsley on the plant.

But I considered that to be my challenge: how to make the dried soybean a cool photo?

You may disagree, but I'm quite happy with my final result.

Living in the Midwest, I find it easy to take soybean fields for granted as just an average, everyday crop. But all you have to do is look at the list of ways soy can be used, and it blows me away. It's an amazingly versatile product.

From now on, I'll try to appreciate my neighbor soybeans a little more.

Camera: Canon 40D with 60mm macro lens, 1/500s, f/4 at ISO 100 at about 10:30 a.m.

114/365 Tasseling corn

It must be summer, because the corn is beginning to tassel.

Is it just me, or does this year seem to be flying faster than ever before? Can it really be mid-July already? Are we really halfway through 2009?

Part of it, I'm sure, is the amount of activities that have been keeping me busy this year. But it almost feels like I missed spring entirely.

But sure enough, the corn was more than knee-high by the fourth of July, and it's now tasseling. I've even heard some cicadas already, which are definitely an auditory clue that summer is here.

Oh well, there's nothing we can do but enjoy it while it's here!

Camera: Canon 40D with 60mm macro lens, 1/250s, f/4 at ISO 100 at about 7:00 p.m.

111/365 Feeling marooned

There's something about this sight that makes me laugh.

We got nearly three inches of rain on Saturday, and on my drive home, I passed this cow just standing by herself (I think it's a "she") in the middle of a big puddle.

She must have been enjoying it, perhaps soaking her tired hooves in the cool mud, because her comrades were nearby on dry ground.

I drove by her once, chuckled, then decided to turn around and go back for a photo. By the time I got back to her, she had turned her back to me, as she is here. I got my photo, drove by to turn around again, and on my third pass she was still in the puddle.

I'm not one to judge her reasoning. I'm sure a cool foot bath on a hot day was welcomed!

Camera: Canon PowerShot SD1000 at about 4:30 p.m.

101/365 A century-old practice

This view reminds me of an old photograph from several decades ago.

I think of round bales as a fairly new concept, but a little research on Wikipedia has proven me wrong. Round baling machines were introduced as early as 1910, and the first to be sold to the masses were produced by Allis Chalmers.

That's amazing, that this machinery has been around for 100 years.

I think of some of the vast changes that have been made in other areas, such as the difference between automobiles now and a century ago or the idea that calculators hadn't even been invented yet. But then to read that farmers 100 years ago were baling their hay and straw in round bales, a system still in practice today, and the dichotomy is very interesting.

I guess if it's not broke, don't fix it, right?

Camera: Canon PowerShot SD1000 at about 7:00 p.m.

66/365 Wishing for more wheat fields

I don't hold anything against fields of corn and soybeans, but I do wish that more farmers in central Indiana grew wheat. It's beautiful in both its alive-and-growing and ready-to-harvest forms.

Right now, fields like this one are awash with waving, healthy greens.

It's attractive up close, too.

Then when the crop matures and is ready to harvest, these same fields evolve into a warm, golden sea. I caught that stage in time to photograph last year, and it's one of my top ten favorites from the first year of Project 365.

You can bet I'll be revisiting this field with my camera in the coming months.

Camera: Canon PowerShot SD1000 at about 5:45 p.m.

328/365 Unfortunate storm damage

This is what happens when you mix soft ground with 50 mph winds.

Oops. Bummer.

I like this fence, though it seems superfluous. It only runs along one side of this property, and it's just decorative -- it doesn't actually contain any animals. The other sides are fenced using simple wire farm fence.

Pretty white (when it's straight), but kind of odd. In the summertime, an appropriate name for this property is the "dandelion farmer."

You can probably guess why. Acres of grass enclosed by one side of beautiful white fence becomes choked with dandelions.

I don't envy them for either the dandelion fight or the ruined white fence.

But I do appreciate the interesting photo opportunity.

Camera: Canon PowerShot SD1000 at about 5:45 p.m.

221/365 Still standing

Indiana has tons of old barns that have fallen into disrepair. I guess you'd call this "rural decay" (as opposed to "urban decay").

Depending on how you think about it, it's either sad or beautiful.

On the sad side:

These barns are a symptom of the declining farmer's culture in rural Indiana. They signify the end of the small-business farmer, those who made their living and supported their families farming dozens of acres, not thousands.

They exemplify the modern disregard for history. Is it old? Does it need some work? Tear it down and replace it. Don't put the effort into maintaining and restoring a piece of historic architecture.

On the beautiful side:

These barns are a monument to Indiana's roots in agriculture. It's refreshing that we can still drive just a handful of miles from Indianapolis and find farmland that isn't soiled by housing divisions or "progress."

They stand in testament to hard work and determination. Yes, they're old, but still perfectly functional. Sure, you could replace it with a run-of-the-mill pole barn, but then I wouldn't have it as a photographic subject anymore.

Can you tell which side I'm on?

Camera: Canon PowerShot SD1000 at about 5:45 p.m.