738 
THE: RURAL, NEW-YORKER 
THE BOSTON MILK WAR. 
Part II. 
“Did you state that you would rather take the chance 
of making milk in Winter than in Summer?” 
“I would, and I rest that upon the widespread inves¬ 
tigation of the data I mentioned: so that there is no 
justice in the claim of contractors that we shoqld lose 
a cent a quart on our milk in the Summer. This brings 
me to the point I wish to make in my estimated cost. 
On my own farm I feed my cows in the Summer not 
only grain but hay, to avoid this loss of milk flow; and 
I think the revenue is better. 1 changed my practice 
last year a little, and my revenue through constant 
Winter feeding was increased about $2000. I w r as 
satisfied that I made my milk for less money by prac¬ 
tically adopting the Winter practice. That being the 
case I estimated a thousand-pound cow to require two 
tons of hay in Winter—something over 200 days—and 
then the pastures as they now are would require the 
use of another ton in the Summer, with grain feeding. 
That gives you three tons. Place the value at $15 a ton, 
which is less than the sale value of hay for the last 
three years. Indeed with me it is $16 or $17 at the barn. 
But I place it at $15. That is $4-5 for three tons. I am 
feeding one pound of grain to every three pounds of 
milk; taking the conservative side, 1700 pounds would 
have to be used for milk production estimated at 6,000 
pounds. Now this 1,700 pounds bought as the farmers 
have to buy it at retail would cost for the last year or 
two $1.60 a hundred. That makes $27.20 for grain. 
“The delivering price—Messrs. Hood are paying about 
three cents per can. Some places it costs four cents 
and others I know up to six cents a can, but at three 
cents for an average yield of 6,000 pounds (324 cans) 
it would be $9.72 for delivery of milk. I add $3 to this 
because I feed them so much in the Winter. That gives 
men a cost of $121.92 to keep a cow the year round, and 
1 believe it cannot be done for less. Now we will credit 
on the other side 162 cans of milk at Winter price, 34)4 
cents, and 162 cans at Summer price, 27)4 cents (these 
prices making an average of 31 cents). That makes the 
milk come to $100.44 for the year. A cow will produce 
approximately 9.34 tons of manure in a year. Reckoning 
not at $1.60, which farmers consider a good price, but 
at liberal figures at $2 a ton, and you get a credit of 
$18.48 for manure. That is a total credit account of 
$118.92, leaving a deficit of $3 on actual costs. Now 
say we don’t get our money back—a new dollar for 
an old one. I have put nothing in this account for 
supervision. You must understand that the farmer is 
a man of brains who has capital invested. His whole 
family work on this job, in one way or the other. 
Every family that 1 know of, including the mother 
and children, have a little odd job here and a little 
odd' job there. I have not included a dime for their 
services, not a dime for the executive talent of the 
farmer, but just listed his time here at the common 
day labor price; and day labor in my town is less 
than day labor in New England generally. I am pay¬ 
ing $1.35 a day, and now you have the proposition as 
I understand it, and I cannot for the life of me see 
why the consumers should be demanding—and I don't 
think they are—that the farmer produce at any more 
favorable terms than these.” 
“Why don’t you allow something for the cow’s 
calf?” 
“For this reason: We are paid $2 for a calf up 
there, but for six days the milk flow is eliminated, and 
the thing is merely an offset. Now as to transpor¬ 
tation. The car that comes from my station, Pitts¬ 
field, N. H., pays, as I understand, and am very well 
assured, $1 a mile, which makes $8,500 a year for the 
car. It has more than a full supply of milk. Reckon¬ 
ing 1,000 cans of milk as the amount carried, you will 
find that the transportation cost of that milk is only 
.28 of a cent a quart. Transportation cuts almost 
no figure in the cost of milk, contrary to the contrac¬ 
tors’ claims. , 
“You will find that the Summer price of milk offered 
us is at the rate of 3)4 cents a quart. Now the farmer 
puts his family and whole property into the growth of 
a crop that can only come once a year. The whole 
farm and all his talents, capital, and family are put 
into the production of milk. They are offering us 3)4 
cents a quart, and are taking more than five cents a 
quart in Winter and almost five cents in Summer, and 
they say the trouble is with farmers’ demands. 
“I present these figures because I believe that more 
genius, care, sacrifice and cost goes into a quart of 
milk several fold over than the men who transport it 
put into the handling of that milk, estimating their 
profit at nearly five cents a quart, a little over one- 
fourth cent of which they pay the railroad. In other 
words, reckoning their men’s service, which would 
not be more than .03 of a cent a quart, it does not 
cost^them one-half cent a quart from Pittsfield into 
Boston. The other 4)4 cents is taken for passing it 
from the producer’s hands to the consumer’s. Then 
they lay it to the farmer for his inferior methods. 
“If the exchange service of Boston was put on 
the same basis of sacrifice and talent and organizing 
capacity that the farmers put into the production of 
milk at 3)4 cents a quart, I think they ought to handle 
it for less than five cents; and if this committee is 
looking for the person who ought to place this milk 
for less, it certainly cannot come upon the farmer, 
but upon the man who handles it at such enormous 
cost.” 
“Isn’t it worth while to consider that the farmer 
should give credit for using the products of his farm 
at home? While charging $15 for his hay, isn’t he 
finding a splendid home market for it at that price?” 
“I think not, because we have charged to the farmer 
the manure, and he must get his profit out of the cow 
if he can. He has two opportunities to sell. He may 
sell in the open market now, at about $18 a ton, or he 
may sell it to his cow. Now we are crediting to the 
cow absolutely all she yields to the farmer; the milk or 
butter, and the manure. We have run farms without 
cows. I have a piece of ground that has been 33 
years in cultivation. I have taken off this year the 
thirty-third' crop since I have used manure, and the 
twenty-ninth crop with chemical fertilizer. I weighed 
the Hungarian very dry, with 3)4 tons to the acre for 
the thirty-third crop, and the potato crop also gave 
395 bushels, to be accurate. I credit absolutely every¬ 
thing the cow yielded. I don’t know why the farmer 
should be called upon to sell $18 bay to the cow for 
$12. It must come out of his pocket, and it is sure to 
end in bankruptcy. I would further say that the best 
evidence that the farmers have been producing at too 
low a price is found in the statistics. [Figures were 
here given showing decrease in neat cattle, and in im¬ 
proved acres for the northern New England States.] 
Now I have said perhaps all that I intended to say. 
We as farmers are not getting the living wage that 
is due us. I have spoken of farming conducted under 
good modern processes, where there is money and 
talent both involved, and where the man is a thorough 
business man and earns his bread and butter. I don’t 
want it said I am here representing the so-called 
archaic farmer, but the better class of farmers.” 
“How far is your farm from Boston?” 
“Eighty-five miles.” 
“What do you make the transportation cost per 
quart from your station to Boston?” 
"At 1,000 cans per car, it costs .28 of a cent.” 
“Do you know what your milk is sold at retail for 
in Boston ?” 
“I have friends who retail it at nine cents per quart.” 
“A can of milk holds how much?” 
“Eight and one-half quarts.” 
“What would that be sold for here?” 
“By the quart?” 
“Yes.” 
“At nine cents in Winter and eight cents in sum¬ 
mer.” C. F. DICKINSON. 
WHAT ABOUT THE TREE TOAD? 
At my home T am annoyed by tree toads. Can yon tell 
me how to get rid of them? We have a small pond near 
the house. Does the water attract them? b. b. m. 
Northport, N. Y. 
Tree toads have always seemed too interesting to 
me to be annoying. The wonderful coloring of the 
body to match the foliage or bark or moss upon which 
the little fellow may happen to be resting; the ability 
and facility with which our tiny Versicolor can change 
the tint of its skin to match its surroundings so as to 
be hidden from its enemies; the prominent disks upon 
its toes and fingers by means of which it is able to 
cling to the smooth surface of a leaf, tree trunk, or 
even a window pane; its remarkable life history; and 
finally, its absolute harmlessness and actual utility to 
man, all combine to make it too interesting an animal 
to become greatly annoying, to say the least. We 
must never forget that the common toad is one of 
the best friends of the gardener and the more of 
them we have in our gardens the less annoyance we 
shall have from insect pests, for toads feed only upon 
living, moving insects and other small animals. Like¬ 
wise, we shall find that the toad’s small cousin, the 
tree toad, which, by the way, is not a toad at all but 
a frog, shoots forth its sticky tongue again and again 
and gathers in the passing beetle or bug or crawling 
caterpillar, thus saving our apple from the “worm,” 
our cherry tree from the maggot, or our vine from the 
caterpillar. 
Yes, the pond attracts the tree toads, for it is only 
in water that the young toads are born and live for 
the first few months of their life. In May, when the 
apple trees are in bloom and the shallow water about 
the edges of the pond has begun to respond to the 
warmth of the sun, we shall find, if we go quietly to 
the water, that the tree toads have found their way 
to the pond and are joyously paddling about in its 
shallow depths. Herer, and here only, the eggs are 
laid, sometimes singly, sometimes in groups, and at¬ 
tached to the stems of grasses or plants standing in 
July 23, 
the water's edge. In a few days they hatch into tiny 
tadpoles only about one-fourth of an inch* long. A 
young tadpole is nothing but a fish to all intents and 
purposes, for it breaths only by gills, lives wholly in 
the water, and wriggles about by means of its broad 
paddle-like tail. In a few weeks legs begin to appear, 
the gills are exchanged for lungs and in about seven 
weeks the tadpoles have become young tree toads, 
fitted to leave the water and live upon land. The 
remedy is simple. No water, no pond, no toads, no 
frogs, no tree toads. On the other hand, lots and lots 
of “bugs.” Which is preferred? c. w. H. 
CACTUS AS STOCK FOOD. 
Some weeks ago we printed an article on prickly 
pear or cactus as a stock food for cattle in Texas. Mr. 
Wm. Sinclair, who wrote this article, is probably as 
well qualified to discuss the subject as anyone in the 
country, as he keeps a large herd of milk cows, and 
has made a fully study of the matter. Since this 
article was printed we have received a flood of letters 
from people who want to know more about the sub¬ 
ject. These questions have been condensed and sub¬ 
mitted to Mr. Sinclair and’ the following notes cover 
bis answers. 
How far north can the cactus be grown? 
“This question has been referred to Dr. D. Griffiths, 
of the Department of Agriculture. He has traveled 
all over the cactus country and made a thorough study 
of the prickly pear.” 
How many tons of green forage can one expect to 
grow on an acre each year? 
“That depends on the variety, on the cultivation and 
the rainfall. At San Antonio the agricultural depart¬ 
ment planted six acres in the year 1908, and in that 
year there was a rainfall of 26.49 inches. In 1909 
there were 14.89 inches.” 
How was this rainfall distributed? 
“In 1908 there were 65 showers, most of them so 
light and so far apart that they did more harm than 
good. There were six rains of an inch or more. In 
1909 we had 39 rainy days, four of which were one 
inch or more. A normal rainfall at San Antonio is 
about 29 inches.” 
How was this planting done? 
“The six-acre field was planted in six or eight-foot 
rows, the joints thrown in the ground 18 to 24 inches 
apart.” 
What cultivation was given? 
“We made no attempt to keep out the weeds from 
between the plants, but cultivated the middles with 
a five-shovel cultivator. These two years were excep¬ 
tionally dry. Grain sorghum and cotton crops were 
very poor. Without the sort of cultivation which the 
year received the other crops would not have paid for 
plowing, yet we harvested this Spring at the rate 
of 40 tons per acre or 20 tons for each of the two 
crops. From another field in a more favorable season 
and with better cactus plant in the pastures and not 
cultivated the yield was four or five tons per acre 
each year. At Brownsville, Tex., very careful cultiva¬ 
tion was given and they probably bad more rain. There 
the crop was 50 tons per acre each year.” 
Are the crops Mr. Sinclair describes grown on irri¬ 
gated land? 
“No. I do not think anyone has tried any experi¬ 
ment upon irrigation for cactus.” 
Would 10 inches of rainfall with irrigation produce 
the crops described? 
Mr. Sinclair says he believes it would if the rains 
were well timed and the field was properly cultivated. 
How is it possible for cactus to grow in this way 
and produce such crops on dry land? 
“The prickly pear is a peculiar plant. In fact it will 
remain dormant for a long time. If there is no mois¬ 
ture in the soil there are no cells on the plant to give 
off water. What moisture it has it holds. When a 
rain comes, producing water that reaches the root 
system the plant takes in a fresh supply. It is true 
that you can hang a cactus up on a barbed-wire fence 
for six months, or maybe a year, and then if there is 
moisture in the soil the plant will root and grow.” 
What grain is fed with the cactus? 
“The Sinclairs feed cotton-seed meal and malt. They 
do not feed bran or grain meal, as these are too high 
in price. Rice bran is recommended, but they are 
doubtful about it. Their system does not give much 
variety of feed, but their results show up well. This 
season there have been good rains in that section and 
it has been possible to pasture the cattle on Crab grass 
in the field. This grass has grown six inches to a 
foot high. It is found, however, that when this pas¬ 
ture is substituted for the cactus the milk yield falls 
off, and it is necessary to supply the cattle with cactus 
day and night in order to get a full yield. These 
demonstrations of the value of cactus as a stock food 
are not only interesting, but open possibilities in stock 
feeding, which are almost beyond calculation. These 
plants can be made to grow over vast tracts of dry 
land in the Southwest, and in connection with cotton¬ 
seed meal and local grain feeds, can be made to pro¬ 
duce great quantities of milk or meat. In fact, it no 
longer is a vision to predict that within comparatively 
a few years dairying and meat production will be 
undertaken on a vast scale in this part of the country.” 
