Prairie Schooner Chickens
When Alice and I moved into our new solar-powered home in the spring of 2000 we knew we were going to have to do something different with the chickens. Brooding with electric heat lamps saw not an option. Turning electricity into heat is very inefficient and would deplete our power reserves. What to do?
I had been smitten with Timothy Shell’s PVC hoop house for his laying flock and asked Tim if he didn’t think it could be converted for broilers. Ever the optimist, he gave me his thoughts and sent some detailed plans and photos. Adding side flaps, interior doors, and a propane-burning hover to Tim’s layer design appeared to be an easy conversion to an effective brooder and shelter for broilers.
We figured dimensions for side flaps and canvas doors and hired a tarp shop to sew all the pieces for us. Building the PVC raft and hoop house was quite easy and took about a day. Installing and tuning the tarp was pretty simple also. The moment of truth arrived with 500 little peepers.
In they went into the hoop house. Since the hoop house looks a bit like the prairie schooners the pioneers used to get to these parts and these pasture-raised chicks are about as close as it gets to the native prairie chicken, we like the name Prairie Schooner Chickens. The schooner would be their home for their entire lives.
We bedded the grass floor heavily with shavings to keep the chicks off the moist spring ground. Some grasses poked through giving the brooder a very pleasant touch of green. The chicks became familiar with the plant world from the beginning.
Within a couple of days the chicks were sneaking out the corners and seams and poking around on the pasture surrounding the schooner. In that first batch I was diligent about shooing them back in and stuffing the cracks with burlap sacks. In later batches I only worried about it if it was very cold or near nightfall. I did make sure they learned to be inside the four “walls” of the brooder at night.
The propane ran out on day three, so I figured it was time for the chicks to heat their own space. Five hundred chicks can create a lot of heat. The brooder worked beautifully the first time with one minor flaw. Rain and dew ran in through the Velcro on the sides where the side flaps attached, soaking the bedding on the edges where the chicks preferred to hang out. The chicks were very fond of drinking that water but we put an end to that for the next batch. A tight-seamed flap sewn over the Velcro strip on the hoop house now keeps the rain and dew away from the Velcro.
As the chicks got older and hardened to the weather, we opened slits in the doors, propped up the doors, moved the doors toward the ends of the schooner, and eventually removed the doors and the eastern side flaps. (Most of our sever weather comes from the west). Since the side flaps only extend over 20 of the 40 foot length of the schooner, even with a flap attached for weather protection the chicks can still go in and out on that side.
An electric netting designed for poultry surrounds the perimeter of the schooner giving a nice 8 – 10 foot border. The chicks can easily run through the 2 inch squares of the netting until they’re about 2 weeks old. That’s not a problem because it’s the things that eat chickens – which is almost everything – that we want to keep out, and the electric net is awesome at that.
After several weeks we use another netting to make a three-sided paddock extending from the schooner. The perimeter fence is lifted with fence posts to allow the chicks to pass under. Our daily chores are to drag their feed and water out onto fresh pasture until we reach the end of the paddock. It usually takes a week before it’s time to make another paddock.
Then we shoo the flock back into the schooner area, lower the perimeter fence, take up two sides of the paddock fence and make a new paddock. It’s very fast. We place their feed and water at the entrance and they’re off and running again.
Speaking of running…we were astounded to see these notoriously lazy birds gallop to and from their feed troughs. What a riot! It’s more like a speed waddle, actually, but they also flap and try to fly as they go. Usually they charge and retreat in great waves.
Another behavior we hadn’t seen before is cock-fighting with the chicks actually getting several feet off the ground.
Besides the running/flying and cock-fighting, the major differences for the chicks were:
more space to hang out in
never running out of feed or water
being on pasture at an earlier age
having a familiar place that was home for the duration of their lives
having a large paddock to graze
no extra handling and crating between brooder and outside pens
having control of their daily schedule
For us the advantages were even greater:
no need to pull eight pens through a pasture
no need to fill 5-gallon water buckets
never running out of pasture
no need to shut chickens in at night or let them out in the morning
freedom to leave the farm for 24 hours if desired
no extra handling and crating between brooder and outside pens
extremely easy crating and loading for processing
In fact, the prairie schooner model practically operates on its own. We found we could spend nights away from the farm if we wanted to. No neighbors required!
These are the questions usually asked about the prairie schooner:
“Doesn’t their feed get wet and rot?”
Yes, feed gets wet but the chicks actually prefer it to the dry mix! (Well, which would you prefer, oats or oat meal? Flour or pancakes?) After a rainy spell, we pull the feeders deeper into the paddock (as we do every day) and tilt the feeder to slide the older feed down to the "schooner" end of the feeder, topping the rest up with new. Without a rain the chicks go for the fresher feed, but after a rain they prefer the wet.
“What about overhead predators?”
Hawks and owls are best stopped with protector animals like a guard dog or guard geese! Our Amish friend, Freeman Miller, clips the wings of a couple of geese, keeps them with his chicks and has no aerial problems. I’ve heard the same with guard dogs. Another product for night protection has red lights that ward off the owls.
“What about manure build-up under the schooner?”
The schooner is a fifteen-foot wide sled that is moved between batches. Because it has no floor the manure goes directly to the ground and the shavings that cover the ground. Because we don’t want the chickens resting in their own feces nor do we want to loose the valuable nutrients in their manure, we follow the rule of adding carbonaceous material (wood chips or saw dust, not straw) whenever the bedding began to smell and we are starting to loose nitrogen. This builds up the bedding to the point we have to carefully lift the schooner out before moving it. (Do not use straw - it doesn’t absorb and makes extraction very difficult). Of course the grass underneath is killed. We simply spread the bedding over the pasture after harvest (it could easily be collected) and in two or three years – and forever after that – the former schooner site is the richest, most lush pasture on the farm.
“What about bad weather?”
Our schooner weathered better than our pens, some of which had leaky roofs and blown away lids in a storm. Both models need to be anchored to the earth in high winds and that is easier with one hoop house than five or six pens. Our schooner has withstood two winds recorded at 70 and 80 mph nearby. The west side (windward) of the schooner was stove in by the 70 mph wind and we replaced Tim’s original ¾” shoulder braces with 1”. For security, we weigh each end down with heavy rocks and railroad ties as well as anchoring it with tee posts driven in on angles at the four corners. Ice and snow build up can cause damage in the winter so we recommend either propping up the centerline from within or diligently removing the frozen moisture before it accumulates.
Besides a great pastured chicken shelter in the spring and fall, we found the schooner to be a perfect shade-mobile for our sheep flock in the heat of the summer. I’m certain a creative mind could find uses for the remaining months as well.
Alice couldn’t move some of our heavier pens and we were burning out on the chores. The schooner model kept us in the business and made it much easier and simpler. Abandoning pastured poultry was not an option because they were so important to our meat business. Our pastured poultry enterprise had twice the return (60%) as beef, lamb and pork and was our most demanded meat. Most of our beef, pork and lamb customers were poultry customers first. The importance of chicken as the front door to our farm produce cannot be overstated. The prairie schooner allowed us to continue to raise the high quality birds our customers expected.
A Daily Shifting Schooner?
Finally, some last thoughts on a portable schooner, that is one moved daily. I really like this idea but haven't solved the problem of moving chicks 80' every day. The schooner would still have to be 15 x 40 because 500 chicks pack the house when they are big.
The chicks were hard to move 12' sometimes but I've not discounted the notion. It would trade the daily moving chore for the periodic bedding chore plus keep the land in production and unscarred.
I think a slow, self-move to get to water and feed is possible but the schooner still must be moved and cannot have any chicks within it during transport. Any ideas?
Following this post will be one detailing schooner construction.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Market Day - a Journal
MARKET DAY – Saturday, January 18, 2003
By David Schafer
5:10 am. I grab the alarm clock five minutes before it’s set to go off. Can’t stand that sound and glad that market days are the only days I ever set an alarm. Alice is already up and getting ready.
6:20 am. Showered, dressed, fed pets, watered Jenny (the donkey), loaded the last minute stuff in the truck, and, by the light of a big full moon not yet set in the west, we’re off, five minutes late.
6:45 am. We pass Bing’s in Altamont where we usually stop for hot chocolates and home-made bisquits and gravy for the road. Because of the cold (it was 8 at midnight but warmed up to 14 by the time we left home) we were a little slower starting and a little slower getting to the bigger roads. To make up the time we skip Bing’s but promise ourselves hot drinks and muffins at the market after we’re already set up.
7:55 am. Roll into the market in good time. Less than 10 venders present.
8:05 am. First customer, John Elliot, arrives while we’re in the last stages of set up. We chat and give him his wife’s box of soup-bones. He doesn’t stay long. It’s chilling cold and blowing light snow. Our set up is minimal today: One six-foot table, two styrofoam display boxes, the photo book and brochures. No sign, no books, no magazines with our pictures on the cover.
8:20 am. Alice goes to the office to pay for today’s stall ($10 during the winter, $21 the rest of the year) as well as our yearly commitment to a permanent stall ($225). The latter gives us stall #139 for every Saturday we want it. This is a new stall for us and will be a switch for customers who’ve come to stall #117 for six years, but we decided to go to the north side of the isle, face south and be in the shade. Plus it’s a little closer to an electric outlet where we can plug in the two freezers on the back of our pickup.
Even though we’ve paid for the whole year, we’ll probably go to the market less than a dozen times in 2003. But when we go, we want our customers to know right where to find us. Plus we want to be sure to have a stall available as those vendors who don’t pay the big money are at the mercy of “first come, first stalled” on the really busy days (when as many as 10,000 people go through the market) and might not get a spot at all.
8:25 am. Alice returns and I head to the coffee shop for double hot chocolates, apple cinammon cake and a banana-nut muffin. I love this market!
9:00 am. Half way through and only six of the seventeen customers on today’s list have shown up. We’re not worried; this is typical.
9:10 am. A small rash of five customers come all at once, two of whom know each other. With only a two-hour window at the market and up to twenty or thirty customers coming, this makes our booth one of the most active sites of commerce in the market, but also a social event with friendly chatter and a lot of first-name recognition. Both are a magnet for other customers. On days when there are other customers, that is. It’s so cold today, most folks are staying home. As we take care of the earliest orders, pulling the boxes or bags with their names on them out of the freezers and totaling the bills, everyone has a chance to see the extra items we brought today in the display boxes.
One box has lamb chops, whole leg, boned and rolled leg and cubes in it, the other, ground beef, ground lamb, a rack and lamb shanks. That’s all we have left. The pork is sold out (except for pork sausage which I forgot to bring) and the last of the chickens plus the last turkey are being picked up today. In the happy atmosphere while they wait on us, most folks pick out something new to try along with the cuts they’ve pre-ordered.
In this way we’ve started dozens of folks on lamb who had never even tried it before. Many of them now say it’s their favorite meat. Since lamb is the highest dollar per pound of any meats we sell, and the easiest to raise, we’re happy about that.
9:30 am. Anne and Leah hang around and chat with us. They are both psychic healers. Anne has authored two books and her husband David is a noted chiropractor in town; he’s referred dozens of patients to us. We have developed a social relationship with them.
It’s warming up a little and the sun is trying to break through the clouds. Anne and Leah are ready to go and we help put their boxes in the car parked next to us (one advantage of the winter months – ordinarily they’d have to park a block or two away and come get an entry pass from us to drive through the market).
9:45 am. Divin and the others on our list show up. Divin is interesting to me because he represents a shift in our typical customer. Up until very recently we’ve attracted wealthy, healthy types. Our meat is not cheap. We’re quite used to the bargain hunters poking, prodding, asking, “How much?” and almost running away after we reply – as if just being close is going to turn their pockets inside out. A great many of our customers are referrals. When people refer us to another they do the screening for us. They don’t pass us on to someone who won’t appreciate us. It is the ideal form of marketing – free and others do the work!
Divin is all smiles and, if he weren’t younger than me, I’d call him a good ole boy. He talks about his brother’s farm and moose skin boots (warm clothing being a popular topic today). He’s got a healthy Midwestern twang. As I often do if I haven’t found out yet, I ask Divin, “Now, where did you find out about us again?” “Oh. On the internet.”
This never happened before 2002, but we probably picked up half a dozen good customers who simply searched the internet, found us and showed up on a market day! This can be traced to all the recent publicity about grass-fed benefits. As Jo Robinson said a couple years ago, “Don’t pay for advertising; it will come to you.” Since that time, we’ve been called by – and featured in – Health magazine and Mother Earth News! (Oprah, we’re waiting….)
10:00 am. All in and all done. Everybody showed and we’re packing up. But there’s more on our schedule today. Kevin, the organic produce grower who is rapidly branching out, has signed a five-year lease on permanent store space here in the market and today we fulfill something we’ve spoken to him about for a long time. Today he starts carrying our meats and making them available to market-goers daily. (The KC River Market has stalls for 300 venders under three long roofs. Ringed around this traditional market area that sees activity on Saturday, Sunday and Wednesday are permanent shops and restaurants open every day of the week.)
We pull our truck up to Kevin’s store and ask him what he wants. “I’ll take everything you have left. You know how chefs are – if it’s in stock they’ll take it.” Kevin has been supplying chefs for many years and hustles all over the city. We’re very happy to empty out our freezers entirely (always the goal). Besides the leftover ground beef and lamb are two orders from folks who told us they couldn’t make it today. We tell Kevin to take full price for them and we sell them to him at his discount. A nice way to start our relationship and we’re all very upbeat.
This isn’t our first store. It’s our seventh. We don’t actively seek stores, but we’re excited about what Kevin is starting. Of the other six, only two still carry us. And they only carry ground beef. Our other cuts usually sell out to regular customers and, frankly, we prefer the interaction with our market customers (and even our mail-order customers). Stores and restaurants are impersonal and not committed to growers. I know of one grower who was quickly pulled under when a huge restaurant account went belly up and left him holding 3000 chickens! Talk about all your eggs in one basket! What a disaster!
The best thing about having a store that carries our meat is that it’s exactly like third party certification. When we tell a new customer that they can also find our products in Wild Oats on Main or Fresh Air Fare in St. Joe, it’s as if a big stamp comes out of the sky and block-prints “APPROVED” all over us. Of course, we’d rather they do the research on us – look at our pictures, ask us questions, hear testimonials from other folks – but, like the auctioneers say, “It don’t matter where we start, it’s where we wind up that counts.”
11:15 am. We say our goodbyes and good lucks to Kevin, park the truck back in our spot and join our friends Ken and Andy who have driven to the market to join us for a brunch date. The food and atmosphere at the deli only two blocks away are pure inner city-hip and we enjoy the punk styles and “modern” food – a big change from Jamesport.
Our friendship with Ken dates back into the mid-90s when I first referred to him as my “customer from heaven.” Ken, a master chef, had cooked in some of the finest restaurants in the city, gone into catering and then into private manufacturing of gourmet pizzas. When he ordered with us he didn’t fool around: 2 whole lambs, 50 chickens, ½ beef and a whole hog. If only all our customers had their own walk-in freezer!
Like many of our market customers, we became friends with Ken and invited him up to the farm. Andy came into his life (Andrea) and the two of them helped us more than anyone in building our straw bale home – a two-year project. The four of us became great friends.
11: 40 am. Soup and sandwiches down the hatch and sharing Toblerone chocolates for desert. Ken and Andy ask if we’ll be Best Man and Maid of Honor at their wedding this fall! Of course, we say, shocked and honored. They excitedly discuss the wedding plans.
12:15 pm. We say good-byes to Andy and Ken and head for our last stop – Wild Oats.
12:25 pm. Deliver 30 lbs. of ground beef to our favorite store and do some shopping for fruits and vegetables. We’ve been in this store since 1995, saw it purchased by Wild Oats, and then watched Wild Oats become more and more “corporate.” The latest burden for small producers is UPC codes on all labels. Since Wild Oats represents a tiny fraction of our business we won’t incur the time and expense to do that if and when they force it upon us. Ah well, to everything there is a season.
12:40 pm. On our way home after a great market day. Alice does the traditional “counting of the loot.” I’m very keen that it be respectable if not impressive since I had already decided to make this day public in a journal. “$2020,” she announces. That’s respectable. We’ve done much better before, but that’s probably not far off an average market day.
I have quipped before that I make $1000 an hour selling meat and this is how. Of course, that’s just the selling of it. The preparation takes much more time...but that’s a story for another day.
By David Schafer
5:10 am. I grab the alarm clock five minutes before it’s set to go off. Can’t stand that sound and glad that market days are the only days I ever set an alarm. Alice is already up and getting ready.
6:20 am. Showered, dressed, fed pets, watered Jenny (the donkey), loaded the last minute stuff in the truck, and, by the light of a big full moon not yet set in the west, we’re off, five minutes late.
6:45 am. We pass Bing’s in Altamont where we usually stop for hot chocolates and home-made bisquits and gravy for the road. Because of the cold (it was 8 at midnight but warmed up to 14 by the time we left home) we were a little slower starting and a little slower getting to the bigger roads. To make up the time we skip Bing’s but promise ourselves hot drinks and muffins at the market after we’re already set up.
7:55 am. Roll into the market in good time. Less than 10 venders present.
8:05 am. First customer, John Elliot, arrives while we’re in the last stages of set up. We chat and give him his wife’s box of soup-bones. He doesn’t stay long. It’s chilling cold and blowing light snow. Our set up is minimal today: One six-foot table, two styrofoam display boxes, the photo book and brochures. No sign, no books, no magazines with our pictures on the cover.
8:20 am. Alice goes to the office to pay for today’s stall ($10 during the winter, $21 the rest of the year) as well as our yearly commitment to a permanent stall ($225). The latter gives us stall #139 for every Saturday we want it. This is a new stall for us and will be a switch for customers who’ve come to stall #117 for six years, but we decided to go to the north side of the isle, face south and be in the shade. Plus it’s a little closer to an electric outlet where we can plug in the two freezers on the back of our pickup.
Even though we’ve paid for the whole year, we’ll probably go to the market less than a dozen times in 2003. But when we go, we want our customers to know right where to find us. Plus we want to be sure to have a stall available as those vendors who don’t pay the big money are at the mercy of “first come, first stalled” on the really busy days (when as many as 10,000 people go through the market) and might not get a spot at all.
8:25 am. Alice returns and I head to the coffee shop for double hot chocolates, apple cinammon cake and a banana-nut muffin. I love this market!
9:00 am. Half way through and only six of the seventeen customers on today’s list have shown up. We’re not worried; this is typical.
9:10 am. A small rash of five customers come all at once, two of whom know each other. With only a two-hour window at the market and up to twenty or thirty customers coming, this makes our booth one of the most active sites of commerce in the market, but also a social event with friendly chatter and a lot of first-name recognition. Both are a magnet for other customers. On days when there are other customers, that is. It’s so cold today, most folks are staying home. As we take care of the earliest orders, pulling the boxes or bags with their names on them out of the freezers and totaling the bills, everyone has a chance to see the extra items we brought today in the display boxes.
One box has lamb chops, whole leg, boned and rolled leg and cubes in it, the other, ground beef, ground lamb, a rack and lamb shanks. That’s all we have left. The pork is sold out (except for pork sausage which I forgot to bring) and the last of the chickens plus the last turkey are being picked up today. In the happy atmosphere while they wait on us, most folks pick out something new to try along with the cuts they’ve pre-ordered.
In this way we’ve started dozens of folks on lamb who had never even tried it before. Many of them now say it’s their favorite meat. Since lamb is the highest dollar per pound of any meats we sell, and the easiest to raise, we’re happy about that.
9:30 am. Anne and Leah hang around and chat with us. They are both psychic healers. Anne has authored two books and her husband David is a noted chiropractor in town; he’s referred dozens of patients to us. We have developed a social relationship with them.
It’s warming up a little and the sun is trying to break through the clouds. Anne and Leah are ready to go and we help put their boxes in the car parked next to us (one advantage of the winter months – ordinarily they’d have to park a block or two away and come get an entry pass from us to drive through the market).
9:45 am. Divin and the others on our list show up. Divin is interesting to me because he represents a shift in our typical customer. Up until very recently we’ve attracted wealthy, healthy types. Our meat is not cheap. We’re quite used to the bargain hunters poking, prodding, asking, “How much?” and almost running away after we reply – as if just being close is going to turn their pockets inside out. A great many of our customers are referrals. When people refer us to another they do the screening for us. They don’t pass us on to someone who won’t appreciate us. It is the ideal form of marketing – free and others do the work!
Divin is all smiles and, if he weren’t younger than me, I’d call him a good ole boy. He talks about his brother’s farm and moose skin boots (warm clothing being a popular topic today). He’s got a healthy Midwestern twang. As I often do if I haven’t found out yet, I ask Divin, “Now, where did you find out about us again?” “Oh. On the internet.”
This never happened before 2002, but we probably picked up half a dozen good customers who simply searched the internet, found us and showed up on a market day! This can be traced to all the recent publicity about grass-fed benefits. As Jo Robinson said a couple years ago, “Don’t pay for advertising; it will come to you.” Since that time, we’ve been called by – and featured in – Health magazine and Mother Earth News! (Oprah, we’re waiting….)
10:00 am. All in and all done. Everybody showed and we’re packing up. But there’s more on our schedule today. Kevin, the organic produce grower who is rapidly branching out, has signed a five-year lease on permanent store space here in the market and today we fulfill something we’ve spoken to him about for a long time. Today he starts carrying our meats and making them available to market-goers daily. (The KC River Market has stalls for 300 venders under three long roofs. Ringed around this traditional market area that sees activity on Saturday, Sunday and Wednesday are permanent shops and restaurants open every day of the week.)
We pull our truck up to Kevin’s store and ask him what he wants. “I’ll take everything you have left. You know how chefs are – if it’s in stock they’ll take it.” Kevin has been supplying chefs for many years and hustles all over the city. We’re very happy to empty out our freezers entirely (always the goal). Besides the leftover ground beef and lamb are two orders from folks who told us they couldn’t make it today. We tell Kevin to take full price for them and we sell them to him at his discount. A nice way to start our relationship and we’re all very upbeat.
This isn’t our first store. It’s our seventh. We don’t actively seek stores, but we’re excited about what Kevin is starting. Of the other six, only two still carry us. And they only carry ground beef. Our other cuts usually sell out to regular customers and, frankly, we prefer the interaction with our market customers (and even our mail-order customers). Stores and restaurants are impersonal and not committed to growers. I know of one grower who was quickly pulled under when a huge restaurant account went belly up and left him holding 3000 chickens! Talk about all your eggs in one basket! What a disaster!
The best thing about having a store that carries our meat is that it’s exactly like third party certification. When we tell a new customer that they can also find our products in Wild Oats on Main or Fresh Air Fare in St. Joe, it’s as if a big stamp comes out of the sky and block-prints “APPROVED” all over us. Of course, we’d rather they do the research on us – look at our pictures, ask us questions, hear testimonials from other folks – but, like the auctioneers say, “It don’t matter where we start, it’s where we wind up that counts.”
11:15 am. We say our goodbyes and good lucks to Kevin, park the truck back in our spot and join our friends Ken and Andy who have driven to the market to join us for a brunch date. The food and atmosphere at the deli only two blocks away are pure inner city-hip and we enjoy the punk styles and “modern” food – a big change from Jamesport.
Our friendship with Ken dates back into the mid-90s when I first referred to him as my “customer from heaven.” Ken, a master chef, had cooked in some of the finest restaurants in the city, gone into catering and then into private manufacturing of gourmet pizzas. When he ordered with us he didn’t fool around: 2 whole lambs, 50 chickens, ½ beef and a whole hog. If only all our customers had their own walk-in freezer!
Like many of our market customers, we became friends with Ken and invited him up to the farm. Andy came into his life (Andrea) and the two of them helped us more than anyone in building our straw bale home – a two-year project. The four of us became great friends.
11: 40 am. Soup and sandwiches down the hatch and sharing Toblerone chocolates for desert. Ken and Andy ask if we’ll be Best Man and Maid of Honor at their wedding this fall! Of course, we say, shocked and honored. They excitedly discuss the wedding plans.
12:15 pm. We say good-byes to Andy and Ken and head for our last stop – Wild Oats.
12:25 pm. Deliver 30 lbs. of ground beef to our favorite store and do some shopping for fruits and vegetables. We’ve been in this store since 1995, saw it purchased by Wild Oats, and then watched Wild Oats become more and more “corporate.” The latest burden for small producers is UPC codes on all labels. Since Wild Oats represents a tiny fraction of our business we won’t incur the time and expense to do that if and when they force it upon us. Ah well, to everything there is a season.
12:40 pm. On our way home after a great market day. Alice does the traditional “counting of the loot.” I’m very keen that it be respectable if not impressive since I had already decided to make this day public in a journal. “$2020,” she announces. That’s respectable. We’ve done much better before, but that’s probably not far off an average market day.
I have quipped before that I make $1000 an hour selling meat and this is how. Of course, that’s just the selling of it. The preparation takes much more time...but that’s a story for another day.
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