ENSILAGING CORN FODDER.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2683, 13 November 1882, Page 3

ENSILAGING CORN FODDER.

Ensilage and ensilaging are quite recent words that are now adopted into our language. The use of the silo for preserving green fodder, and especially corn fodder, is so thoroughly introduced that people are settling down in their views about it to common sense, or something like it. The idea that we can get more or better feed out of a silo than we put in is given up, and everybody knows that we take out less feed, which is really not so good. It is, however, preserved with little lossi, and of a very fair quality for feeding, provided the silo is well made and treated. Corn fodder can be raised more cheaply than an equal amount of food in another way, unless, indeed, sorghum or pearl millet or some similar plant be used in place of Indian corn, when there might be a question as to which plant produced moat. The evidence, so far, is in favor of corn, as being the readiest means for converting manure into food, which we have at our disposal. The silso must be tight—some persona say it need not be, but they are wrong. No doubt the best are laid up of stone and well cemented, but boards will do perfectly. They ought, however, to be matched, or battened, and well nailed, so that the pit shall be as nearly air-tight as possible. The reason of this is that access of air causes decomposition, which wastes the fodder, and besides, the air promotes alcoholic and acetous fermentation. The formation of alcohol occurs in juices of plants, which, contain sugar, after a single sufficient, exposure, to, the air, and its continuance depends, upon, the presence of fermenting substances, also contained in the juice. So long as this fermentation continues with moderate activity, there can be no formation of vinegar, because this requires constant access of air. , In such a mass as corn fodder in a silo presents, there must be some alcoholic fermentation, but there need be but very little. The stalks come from the cutter wet with juice, and this exposure induces fermentation, which sets in at once. Now, if the silo be rapidly filled and weighted at once with fully 300 pounds to the square foot, it will settle down to a compact mass, and the fermentation will cease, except where the air has access to it. Alcoholic fermentation, I have said, is continuous after it has once started, so long as the ferment is present. In a silo filled as described, the ferment will be soon exhausted, for if the knives of the cutter be sharp, so as to make a clean cut, nearly all the juices of the plant will remain within the unbroken cells, hence comparatively secure from access of air, and the fermentive principle so locked up as not to be able to continue the action. Juice enough is exposed to start an active development of carbonic acid gas and alcohol from the sugar, and this gas fills the whole mass, to the exclusion of the air—driving it out, and so, after an active “ spurt ” the fermentation nearly or quite ceases. The way described is not the usual or natural way, so to to speak, of filling a silo. The pit may be all right, the weights may be prepared, with the topping planks and everything in order, but the farmer does not think it necessary to hire extra hands, so he begins—perhaps with his old cutter, a good one for dry fodder, but not near fast enough for green. He does a good day’s work, perhaps, with two teams and four men, and gets his silo a quarter full. This he has well tramped down, and is satisfied with his day’s work. He finds the next morning that it is quite hot, and that pleases him, for he knows perhaps that fermentation must ensue, and that it is necessary to prevent the unfavorable action of the air. So, after working for several days, the silo is filled, well tramped down, and possibly sufficiently weighted. The result of this tramping is, that the stalks, being filled with pith, and the pith full of juice, are very much like so many little sponges, which, every time they are pressed or squeezed, and the pressure taken off, return partially, at least, to their former size. The cells are thus ruptured, the juice in part is pressed out, and air drawn into the interior of the pieces of stalk, The more thorough and frequent the tramping, the moreare the juices exposed to the action of the air, and the more alcohol will be formed. Finally, when this vinous mass is opened, it will seem to be well preserved, but has the odor of beer, and after a very short exposure, will be found to be getting very sour. The beer odor comes from the presence of alcohol, which is rapidly convered into vinegar, so that six to twelve hours’ exposure will make some ensilage very sour. Cattle will eat it, but Jit works an injury to the milk, making it unfit food for infants and invalids, to say the least. Besides all this, there is a very considerable loss of food-value.

If the silo be not tight, and the air has access to the contents, if there bo a lack of pressure, or too much exposure to the air after the pit is opened, positive decay, ■which cannot be considered “fermentation,” is very sure to take place. When put down in the best possible way, the incipient alcoholic fermentation soon gives place to another kind, which causes no such loss of valuable food elements. These changes consist in the formation of lactic acid—the acid of sour milk—and are almost identical with those which take place in the stomach after the fodder is eaten. This is the fermentation which goes on in sauer kraut, and it makes the ensilage sweeter and more palatable than that which contains alcohol, and probably more easily digested than if it were fresh cut from the field.

To sum up all: The silo should be light, of Such a size that it can be filled rapidly, if possible, at one operation, without trampling, and loaded with the full weight at once, even if the weights have to be lifted for filling up the silo at some subsequent time. The best cutter is the one working most rapidly, and making a clean cut without pressing or bruising the stalks. The best weights are no doubt boxes of earth or stones, weighing 400 or 500 pounds each, which can be most conveniently handled by block tackle.

THE STORY OF GUENON’S WONDERFUL DISCOVERY.

“ This is most wonderful ? Why have you nothing about it in the ‘American Agriculturist ?’ ” said a gentleman of agricultural tastes, who a few days ago chanced to look at Guenon’s latest volume (which, by the way, ia being translated). "There are thousands of your readers who know nothing about this, who would be greatly interested in it.” It is now more than thirty years since Guenon’s theory on milch cows was first developed. Still, we agree with our -friend that the subject is one which is new to a large share of the present generation of farmers. Those who deal in or raise milch cows had long been accustomed to form some estimate of their value as milk-producers from certain external signs: the shape and texture of the udder, the size of the milkveins, the color of the ears, &c. The owner of a few choice cows on the Island of Jersey at the present day does not fail to call attention to the ears and the color of the skin as indicating “ richness.” Guenon’s method differs from these in using other external marks, and in the discovery of some that allow of the prediction , of the length of time the yield of milk will continue after the cow is again with calf. Guenon’s story in brief is this: He was the son of a French nurseryman, and early learned to notice minute differences in fruit trees, and to observe that certain marks indicated excellence in fruit. His powers of minute observation he applied to cows. He found that external marks, different from any that had heretofore been taken into account, bore a direct relation to the performance of the animal at the pail. Why they should do so he does not attempt to explain. That they do allow the animal’s history to be read and its future to be foretold with surprising accuracy is a fact which he established before he published his “ system.” He went before Government officials and those eminent in agriculture, and told the story of animals he then saw for the first time with an accuracy that astonished their owners and others who witnessed it. When Guenon’s system was first published, though it had the prestige of the endorsement of those eminent in French agriculture, it was ridiculed by some and ignored by many, but the few who took care to examine its merits found that it had a hard basis of facts. Dairymen and breeders of the present day, while they may not adopt the system in all its details, make more or less use of it. Guenon’s observations taught him that the hairs upon the rear of the animal, extending from the udder up the inside of the thighs nearly to the base of the tail, had a different texture and direction from the hair upon the adjacent parts. This formed a distinct outline, varying in shape and in size or extent in different animals, but always bearing a direct relation to the quantity of milk. This peculiar disposition of the hair he calls the “ escutcheon,” and he gives distinct names to its various forms. These forms indicate his classes, of which there are ten; of each class he makes several orders founded on the extent of the escutcheon. He also notices various breaks, or faults, in the escutcheon, caused by the hair taking a different direction, or being of a [color or lustre unlike that of the escutcheon itself. These variations he terms "Feathers” ( epis ), and finds that their position and size bear relation to the length of time the flow of milk will continue, &c. The various markings are illustrated by figures which soon familiarize the eye with their outline and extent, and facilitate their application in practice. Not the least important part of Guernon’s discovery is, the markings are present upon the males as well as upon the females, and in breeding, reference should be had to the escutcheon, &c., of the bull as well as of the cow, if the best results would be had. The markings are also distinct in the calf in both sexes, and allow the breeder to decide with considerable certainty while the animal is • yet young, whether it is worth raising or only fit to sell to the shambles.