I first met Faith at the garden. She was living next door in a squat. She told me she had plants and my plans began to bloom. The idea of a community fertilized the seeds. As I got to know her, she showed me her house, told me about her travels including living in fabled caves in Greece, and eventually she came with us to get the chickens. She had her own chicken, which, as she described it more, degenerated the romantic agricultural quality into an odd fact. "Her name's Becky" She said, "She's blind". Her eyes then, clashed with my own as I switched from regarding to staring. Sure enough, a rescue from a farm west of Philly, Faith took Becky to Pittsburgh, to share in her journey. Faith is always journeying even staying still. I was glad she had the chicken, sorry Becky, since her living conditions were abismal, dismal, and mal; squalor. Moldy. Her house was named "Mold Squat," no electricity or water, a few windows and walls. She slept on an old couch on the third floor. Becky needed hand feeding and hand watering. Graffiti filled the moldy walls, frescos by Murph Dawg, a local legend, scrawlings by passers through. A studded jacket, piled high with fungus and ceiling plaster still sat in the coat rack in the foyer. She had an elaborate system of bottles, the pattern of which she would inspect upon entering to see if anyone had been there in her absence.
photos by Anna Brewer
Photos by Anna Brewer
Eventually she moved in with Verasi and Ed, to an established squat, and began working construction for cash and building the raft that she would eventually take down the Ohio River.
She was the first to find my chickens dead. A week later, Becky, tucked away in Mold Squat got ambushed in the afternoon. Only feathers were left. Verasi thought that Racoons would not enter an inhabited house. This isn't true. I neglected to remember the story of a family friend who was once bitten on the big toe by a raccoon as he slept in his bed. There must be some folklore that grants meaning to the intrusion of a raccoon into a home. I finally got the trap. The hunt for the raccoon began.
I bought 8 chickens on a whim. Asked for an experience in which I had acted rashly, I told the story to a researcher who was studying mood disorders and wanted to see ifi was eligible as a subject. 3 chickens is what you are legally allowed to have in PGH if you have a permit. Although I did not get a permit, and did not ask my landlord, I figured they were a commodity that would trade quickly on craigslist if worst came to worst. I had started building a coop out of pallets I had got from behind home depot. Without drawing anything, this is what formed:
The chickens from Chicora were a month old. We had 7 months to go, maybe more before they started laying. Three months into it, my upstairs neighbor told my landlord, because he said "the smell was too bad". This was some bullshit. He lived 2 floors away from them, and would not be able to smell them even if they were not having their cage cleaned every 2 days. His dogs crap was in a bin on my front porch, but I didn't say anything because he subtly hinted to me one day that he would call some board or another and that "they would not be happy to find out about it". He then berated my entire idea of chickens, and a garden, as he termed it "the movement". He later apologized, with the undermining stipulation that he had meant every word of his previous diatribe, and so I wish sterility on him and allow this blog to be a forum to express my thoughts on the behaviors of human beings in close quarters, which are often driven my primitive tendencies to instil and maintain a pecking order. What rubric we use to gain and fall is much more complicated than that of the chickens, at least more elaborate, though possibly the same hormones are released in the brain of my neighbor and a chicken. While a person tries to keep up with the jones's, the chickens strove to jump on top of one another. It was interesting to note, that the most dominant chicken died first. Speedy. The runt who took over as biggest dill-hole. He must have expressed his dominance to the Raccoon. I wish my neighbor (it feels improper to use the word, despite close proximity of living), who, thankfully, has moved, would express his dominance to a bus.
He and his friends who don't have the capacity for true compassion, or friendship, told me that I'd better get the chickens into the unfinished coop. They had already told my landlord, and fearing eviction I had already been to work on the coop for two days prior to our showdown. Now with legal repercussions of some mysterious government board, I flew to the coop, working late into the night and moved all 8 of them in.
A few months in the basement.
for 3 days I worked to provide them water and food, creating a cardboard feed dispenser and a over-turned bucket watering system. While I had acces to the back door to the coop, the chickens needed let in to the front door, which was within their enclosure. A little walkway lead to the door. Their door swung down with hinges above. Every night some of the fence was pulled apart, big enough for an arm to reach, so that the door could me fastened. Very important to get them in before dusk, before the animals come out. Then I went to Washington DC for a long planned trip. Since Anna was busy, I asked Faith, the neighbor who also had a chicken, to lock them up at night. Anna said she would help too. While I was away Anna let me know that animals were messing around with the coop, riling the chicks a few nights in a row and forcing her to go outside. She assured me they were fine. A few days later I called her and she told me they were all dead but one, "Chocobo" the littlest, a brown silky with "fuzzy boots" as the feet were referred to. A Raccoon I suspected was the culprit, since I had seen a big fella wandering around the abandoned houses in the alley. Must have gotten in through the whole used to latch their front hatch. When I got back, raccoon fur not matching any local cats was found on the wire fencing. The day after the first call, another. One chick, Anna told me, was killed in broad daylight, torn right through the 1 sq Inch fencing, resembling fancy processed meat with a feather boa on its way to the Copacabana, or some gay event.
Never got to figure out their sex's. They died, and a week later, So did faith's Chicken. My neighbor Charlie, told me he had a trap, and leant it to me. "Take it as long as you need it" he told me.
The passing of time. Gardens do it themselves. That's what I figured starting a garden, and so it feels like I've done relatively little since last post. I've decided to post a few times in a row, as a means to organize the content of the photos. I had chickens for a little while. They died. The garden grew. I met some people (Faith and Collin). They moved. That is the table of contents for the upcoming posts. The lead tests came back fine. I made 3 trips to the river view stables for manure. Here is the rest of the greenhouse going up in January or February.
This blog is a place for people who want to get involved to post comments. Even if all you have is a criticism, go ahead and post. I want your feedback! If you want to:
drop off compost,
plant some food,
use the greenhouse,
build some stuff/paint/decorate,
share seeds,
Let me know what you want to see. So far, upcoming projects include:
Getting Tables/benches for a seating area and bus shelter
Medicinal Herb garden
Corn
If you have anything else you want to see, go ahead and do it. Feel free any time to get in there and take a look and imagine something.
I recently met a few Neighbors who lent a hand.
Faith, Dan, Ed and Verassi were gettin' dirty the other day. Ed put in some onions and Faith's got beans growing now. I also ran into Seth, a student from Pitt, and he was interested in doing more. Charlie said he'd drop off his compost. Denisia saw the garden and asked if I could plant some flowers by her front porch. I would definitely be down for traveling to people's houses to help them set something up. I've got flower seeds and more so let me know. 412 559 1088.
Claire from Landslide knows a lot about medicinal herbs and I'm hoping that with enough feedback we can get a class going.
A lot of other people have seen the lot and made comments. People often ask what I built. It's a greenhouse aka hothouse, and will keep "starter" plants warm until they're ready to plant. I also got a few chickens the other day. In a few month's they´ll be ready to lay, so if you want eggs. Let me know either on the site, on email, or call.
Email is benjaminrickles@gmail.com
I recently heard from Richard Strauss, that there are community grants available for Lot Beautification projects. I also heard about google grants. That would really come in handy, and the money would be put to good use.
You might have seen me out in the lot looking like a mad man to whip things into shape. My name's Ben Rickles. Just say hey.
Total cost $40. The plant box, plus the soil, plus the lights plus the fixture. They say to use two different light bulbs in the light. One that is one spectrum, the other, another, to cover a broader range. I used one spectrum range so I hope it works.
Courtney from GrowPittsburgh told me of a great idea using straw and clay (Artist-style molding clay) to construct buildings. That is now the plan for how to finish my greenhouse. Clay should add a good insulation for cracks, holes, missing walls, etc.
I was on http://www.growpittsburgh.org/growpittsburgh/UrbanAgZoningCode looking at a zoning code today and realized I can have (by pittsburgh law) 3 chickens, and sell the food off of the lot on which it was grown with permission from the owner. Did I mention Ray at the "Brighton Market" that just opened next to the lot said I could put vegetables in his store. Right now it´s all candy and cigarettes, so I hope to corner the market on vegetables at his corner store. There was a boost of inspiration in city agro ordinances thanks to Bill Peduto, the kind representative. Why the fuck should we wait for city ordinances to tell us what we can do? Because we don´t want to go to jail, that´s why. The city is good at putting people in jail, and then lighting them with LED lights, so that they can go green.
What horse shit! Which is a good thing, albeit too high in nitrogen. Better than nothing.
Still the "system" everyone fears, is something that is not written in code. It is malleable, and you can never expect Bill Peduto and Dan Onorato to do anything for us. We have to do it ourselves and then have them either work with or against us. Lawyers are there to make sure it all goes down without a fight. Lawyers are just the referees in the boxing match between the government an the people.
There´s a sweet fence next door that fell down, and I hear chicken eggs are cheap and online. I´m thinking about hanging with my buddy who´s been a cooper and seeing if he´s not on the fence about this one. Ha.
Lately I´ve been pondering, and thinking. I also did some county website property searching. $200, 300, 400, 300, 200, 200, 200 dollar properties on the side of a steep hill, facing the southern sky (excellent sun). All with such a great view! I´m taking a walk there this weekend to explore. I gotta call the city to see how it would be possible to buy them, making sure firstly, that I can zone them for food production with the aim of eventually putting greenhouses in a terraced manner on the hillside, using as much wood as possible from neighboring trees.
Bright and early tomorrow to collect more soil samples. $10 http://www.umass.edu/soiltest/order.htm for a lead test. Lead doesn´t get into the food much, but does get into your skin and lungs via the dirt and dust. It´s digging that you need to worry about when considering lead levels in your soil. Lead is absorbed by plants too. Sunflowers, says Jen Dandy, are good ways to get these out.
I have solicited the help of Kim Muth who chairs the Philippino Student Association. She and a few members need a volunteer project.
"Toughened" my broccoli shoots by putting them outside today. letting ya'll know it's time for bean planting btw.
Ahh a plan. I heard Carnegie started making steel in his basement.
