I finally got around to building a rustic yard gate for the newly fenced front yard (read about the fencing project here). I chose green Osage Orange wood for the rustic gate project because it is durable and we have plenty of it growing in our hedgerows and woodlots. Since this rustic gate would be used several times each day, I wanted it to be light and strong so I split the standards and rails from billets rather than using full dimension billets. Once the green wood dries it will lighten up further. As an added bonus, splitting the billets exposed the bright orange heartwood, which adds some nice color to the gate -- it will oxidize to a rich brown before too many seasons pass.

It took me a couple of hours to construct this gate, including time spent in the woodlot sourcing the timber. I haven't built my shaving horse or other riving aids so the splitting and shaping aspects to the project weren't quite as efficient as they might have been. To see a photo of the gate hung, check out Karen Keb's blog here.  

The first step of the project was to select the right tree for the job. While looking for just the right Osage Orange tree, I noticed a copse of young American Elm trees that I hadn't seen before. We have a few mature American Elm trees but these are the first replacements I've found so far.

I eventually decided to cut a several-year-old Osage Orange sprout that was growing from a large stump that had been cut years ago. This stump has yielded us several fence posts and material for other projects. That Osage Orange re-sprouts several trunks from a stump makes harvesting them a little easier on the mind.

Using the 1964 IH truck's spare tire (on the rim) and its replacement as a tool to stabilize one end of the piece of Osage Orange tree, I slowly but surely split the billet with my ancient froe. The resulting halves will become the gate's upright standards.

I pared and shaped the split Osage Orange billet with an ancient cooper's axe I found at a local junk shop. This hatchet-like device has a blade with a bevel on only one side and a slight curve to make it easy to hew without whacking your hand on the wood you are hewing upon.

The next step was to cut and split out the top and bottom rails for the gate. You can see the end of one rail in the background. Yes, that pipe gate in the '69 Chevy pickup's bed is serving as a workbench for boring the 0.75-inch wide through mortises in the gate standards. 

The ends of the rails were trimmed with the cooper's axe to fit the through mortises. I drilled three holes per mortise and chopped out the waste with a one-inch wide chisel. The rails were pinned in place with a pair of 6 penny nails. 

The final step in building the gate frame was installing a diagonal brace -- I'm measuring for it here. Once that was installed, I stapled the fence wire to the frame and cobbled together a serviceable hinge mechanism that consists of some scrap steel strap and round rod. The gate swings nicely and should serve its purpose for decades to come.

Photos courtesy Karen Keb.

We've been watching one of our Mulefoot sows for more than a month, thinking she would deliver any day. And then it got hot. And then it got hotter and the Mulefoot sow grew larger. Yesterday, summer's heat peaked (we hope) with 111 degrees at the farm. The massive Mulefoot sow lumbered back and forth between the mud wallow and what appeared to be the area she picked for her nest. Only this time she dug a shallow trench through the hay and into the soil, ridging up the hay on both sides. This morning I found that Mulefoot sow sleeping peacefully on her side, in the trench with her 9 baby pigs in a peaceful heap on the hay.

This is one of our most experienced sows. She has successfully weaned many litters to date. Most of the time she has chosen to make her nest in one of the farrowing houses and will even carry hay to the house to make it more snug. I think I know why she chose to farrow outdoors last night. I suspect she made the trench nest to help her keep cool by pressing her side to the hay-insulated soil. I also suspect that she knew her little ones might overheat in the hut. I suspect that she held onto those little pigs until last night because she knew the weather would break. The difference between a high temperature of 111 degrees and a mere 95 degrees might not seem like much, but when you weigh less than 3 pounds and live outdoors, it can mean the difference between surviving or dying.

Raising pigs outdoors, on dirt and able to root, is compelling. Observing the miracle of birth and expert motherhood is uplifting. When asked why we raise pigs the old fashioned way, I say because it is beautiful.