A SCRUB OAK FARMER. 
STEERED BY A PAIR OF STEERS HE REACHES THE 
HARBOR OF CONTENTMENT. 
A Thought for You to Consider. 
Our readers will remember the report of the famous 
Vanderbilt farm, on the south side of Long Island, 
which was given in The R. N.-Y. last winter. This 
farm illustrates something of the possibilities of great 
wealth in making a plaything of agriculture. The 
little farm we have now to describe is within a few 
miles of the great Vanderbilt place, and it is singular 
to think that these few short miles separate conditions 
that are as far apart as the poles. We have been 
accused of hunting out the high-toned and rich farm¬ 
ers for our interviews and descriptions. That is a 
mistake; what we try hard to find are farms where 
new and original things are being worked out, where 
one can find something to think about, whether the 
plans are worthy of imitation or not. The humble 
home described tuis week is of that character. Let 
us see what les¬ 
son is to be 
drawn from it. 
I left the cars 
at Sayville, 
I., and found 
The R. N.-Y’s 
friend, Mr. R. 
G. Gottwald, 
waiting for me 
with his famous 
steer team. 
They were just 
as shown in 
the engraving 
(see Fig. 209.) 
It was the same 
wagon, too, 
though without 
the hay. I had 
never seen oxen 
driven this way 
before, so I ex¬ 
amined them 
curiously. You 
will notice that 
they have bits 
in their mouths 
just like horses, 
with lines or 
reins. The pole 
is held up by 
straps around 
their necks. Instead of the heavy yoke usually seen 
on oxen, these had a curved strip of wood and metal 
fastened to the head just under the horns. This is 
padded on the inner side so as not to chafe the head. 
Traces of rope ran from these strips back to the 
whittietrees. In hauling, the oxen lowered their 
heads and pushed with full weight against the head 
strips. 
Off we went at a good fast walk—as fast as the walk 
of the average farm team, if not faster. It was ever 
so much faster than the progress of cattle carrying 
the usual heavy yoke, and at times the steers broke 
into a regular trot that shook us into a lively pace. 
It was certainly a unique experience—riding behind a 
pair of driving steers within 50 miles of the greatest 
city on the Continent. 
Mr. Gottwald is an educated German, who has been 
in this country nearly 30 years. In Germany, he says, 
everybody drives oxen, or even cows, in harness. The 
yoke there has been generally discarded, as experi¬ 
ments have proved that the head-strip is easier for the 
cattle, cheaper and easier to manage, besides giving 
the oxen more power. Repeated tests of oxen with 
yoke and head-strip have shown that with the latter 
heavier loads can be hauled. Besides this, the animals 
are driven just like horses. There are no cursing and 
continual yelling of “ Haw ! ” and “Gee !” as is the case 
with yoked cattle. These steers were originally very 
wild, but now they are tame and gentle. You will 
notice rings in their noses, to which lines are fastened. 
These were for hitching them when they are standing. 
Also notice the fringe of strings over the eyes. This 
keeps off the flies which are very troublesome to oxen. 
Mr. G. has a patent on this head-strip, which is 
different from the one used in Germany. 
Life in the Scrub Oaks. 
We have often told our readers about the thin, 
sandy desert that runs through the center of Long 
Island. The “Barrens” or scrub oak plains may 
safely enter the contest for the worst farming land in 
the world. Nature has refused to smile on this thin, 
leachy soil. Little dwarf oaks no larger than one’s 
The Motive Power on a Scrub Oak Farm. Fig. 209. 
wrist, and dwarf pines, with huckleberries and briars 
and weeds, are the only vegetable friends which na¬ 
ture seems to have lent to the farmer. Fires scourge 
the place, and rain-clouds shun it. To an outsider 
there seems absolutely no inducement for a farmer to 
settle there in the hope of making a living by growing 
ordinary farm crops, as they are grown in other parts 
of the world. It is true that the summer resorts along 
the south side of the island provide a splendid market 
for fruits and vegetables, but we wonder how they 
are to be grown in this dry and parched sand. It is 
true that with some system of irrigation this warm, 
quick soil would easily respond to applications of fer¬ 
tilizers, but no irrigation scheme has yet been devised, 
and yet along the lonely roads running through the 
scrub oaks are happy homes, small and humble, it is 
true, yet still homes whose occupants save and invest 
money from their farming, and raise a share of that 
best of all farm crops—contentment. Most of these 
small farmers are foreigners. In our three-mile drive 
Mr. Gottwald pointed out 12 homes of foreigners and 
three of Americans. The latter, he says, do not like to 
clear such land. The foreigners do it, but it is a ques¬ 
tion whether their children, born in this country, will 
stay on these scrub oak farms. 
A Holding in the Desert. 
“How did you happen to locate in this place?” I 
asked Mr. Gottwald. 
“ I saw the oak trees growing and knew that in 
Germany oak trees always grew on good soil. At $25 
an acre oak land within 50 miles of New York seemed 
like a bargain. That was 20 years ago when I first 
settled here. I found that the signs failed, for the 
oaks were all dwarfs—the soil is so poor that they 
never can grow larger than shrubs.” 
“ How large is your farm ? ” 
“ I have 15 acres—five acres at my home place and 
10 outside.” 
“ What stock do you keep ? ” 
“ These two steers, two cows and about 50 chickens.” 
“ You can’t make much stable manure then ? ” 
“ No ; this is a poor stock country. It is so dry that 
it is almost im¬ 
possible to raise 
hay and forage. 
Grain and hay 
are expensive 
and we buy as 
little as possi¬ 
ble. I am now 
getting ready 
to fatten an old 
cow for beef 
and shall do it 
on turnips 
alone. The oxen 
have little or no 
grain—co a rse 
hay, stalks, etc. 
keeping them 
in good order.” 
“ Do you use 
fertilizers, 
then ? ” 
“Yes, I buy 
about $80 worth 
every year. 
Without them 
we could do 
nothing. It 
does not pay me 
to buy stable 
manure, as in 
our dry soil the 
fertilizers are 
quicker and surer. I used to use fish entirely, but the 
supply is not constant and fertilizers are better for 
potatoes.” 
“ How is your little farm divided ?” 
“ This year I have two acres in potatoes, 2% in corn, 
three in rye, 1)4 in clover, one in scrub oaks and the 
rest for home grounds, berries and garden. I use hen 
manure and ashes in the garden, 1,500 pounds of 
fertilizer per acre for potatoes and 400 pounds on corn. 
The garden is on the richest spot of the farm. I read 
in The Rural of farmers who have not yet paid their 
fertilizer bills, yet whose crops are all dried up. I am 
better off; my bills are paid though the crops here 
are always dried up.” 
“ Does clover do well here ? ” 
“ Not very well. It is too dry, and the clover often 
kills out. That is one great drawback to our farming. 
If we could have a perfect supply of water by irriga¬ 
tion or otherwise, we could raise great crops. The 
quality of our potatoes is always fi ie. This year I 
carted water for my melons. With water this place 
could be made into a perfect garden.” 
