Clearing the Land

Originally the land that comprises our farm was known as the Burchel farm. Roughly 250 acres straddling Currier Rd on the north and south sides. There were originally three Burchel farmsteads, each operated by one of three brothers. About 1920 one had a falling out with another and and changed his surname to Bertsel for differentiation. Di and I purchased the Bertsel section on the south side of Currier rd.
The real estate agent told us that nobody farms hillsides anymore. It's too costly. Did I mention that the real estate agent lives across the road in one of the old farm houses? It's another story. So there we were, living in a small two bedroom farmhouse built in 1898. Everything in this house was crooked, and still is. Our home reminds me of Charlie's house in The Chocolate Factory. But the Land! We now owned a hillside , 800 feet above sea level, facing eastward to the rising sun. We have a 'million dollar view' looking eastward. We can see most of Fort Fairfield, and a good portion of Carleton County, New Brunswick. About half the acreage is rich, deep silty loam and the remaining half the renowned caribou gravely loam. The only place in the world that caribou loam exists is a thin strip about ten mile wide along the Aroostook river between Fort Fairfield and Caribou, Maine. Caribou loam is potato soil. Prior to the 1930's this soil made fort Fairfield the potato capital of the world.
Obviously three priorities came to mind: Fix the house, Start clearing the field of brush, make a business plan. I sound like I had a super clear head for what needed to get done. Not! We had a vague idea where we wanted to go. I hired a guy to re-do the roof because it looked like a lot of it was going to fall off pretty soon. Here's a tidbit: I new very little of carpentry then and although I've improved a lot I'm still a lousy carpenter now. Although I didn't even own a tractor I could tell that brush was not supposed to be growing in fields where a crop would be planted eventually. I hired a local to bush hog the fields. As far as business planning was concerned I new nothing of it. Luckily northern Maine is an economic disaster zone so I found a lot of free help from the federally funded Northern Maine Development Commission.
The local guy I hired to mow the fields showed up three week late. He came barreling down the hill on an ancient tractor. At some point it had caught on fire but I could make out through the scorch marks 'McCormic Farmall'. I think it was a model 'C' dating from the 1940's. So my hired guy lines the tractor up and sets off mowing across the field. Sam and I watched excitedly from a window. He made one pass and then another. By the third pass he realized that he had forgotten to engage the mower. This was soon rectified, and with mower engaged my man started right for the wet spot I had pointed out weeks earlier. I ran for the door to shout a warning but it was too late. The farmall was silent. Its front wheels completely submerged in an ancient, but newly re-discovered cesspool. Since my plumbing was connected to a septic system I figured that at least 50 yeas had passed since that cesspool was actively connected to my plumbing. It's a wonder how long feces can stink.