Bog Myrtle & Peat

Can’t resist another irresistibly tiny postscript to the oat crop of last year.

I’ve laboured the many differences between feeding bruised (processed) oats and wholecrop (bundles of oats which were simply cut, dried and stored). We processed the oats by feeding them through a bruiser which is designed to crack the tough outer shell of the oat so that the animals can digest it properly. It’s a lot of work, but the bull is now on a steady diet of bruised oatmeal, and it’s clear from his cowpats that his digestive system is doing a very efficient job on this diet.

But I’ve started to feed him (and his heifer companion) whole sheafs over the last few days as our hay supplies dwindle. These oats have not been cracked, and now their cowpats are coarse with straw and I find them littered with undigested oats which glimmer like gold in the shit. The birds have not taken long to spot these gems, and now there are reed buntings and larks hanging around the cowpats and digging carefully through the steamy muck. I remember hearing old tales from family friends about how partridges and black grouse would often peck at cowpats, and I can easily imagine how useful this might have been as a food source for wild birds.

I’d guess that only a very small percentage of oats are passing through the cows without being digested. I don’t mind the waste, but now I’m undecided as to whether it was worth the work of bruising this crop. It’s just one of countless ways that old fashioned farming used to be a bedrock for an entire wealth of birds and wildlife, and while it seems like a tiny detail, it’s got me puzzled.