Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Duck, duck, goose!

So, what's next for Treffynnon Farm? We have been discussing the future of the farm lately and trying to decide what to do. Of course, we want to make money at farming, but I'm not going to hold my breath on that one. The way our economy and food-belief system works, farmers almost never make money at what they do. They do it for the love of the land and animals, and because they MUST farm. I feel that way about theatre. Heaven knows there's no money in that, either. I'm hoping we can make enough to cover our expenses and our own food costs. Even at the rates we charge we are NOT going to get rich, no matter what people might think.

We had a great success with raising a few broilers this past summer. We took the standard 'supermarket' chicken, the Cornish Rock and raised it on pasture with organic, soy-free feed. We grew them for 12 weeks, which is double the time the 'big barn farmers' do, plus ours are outside the whole time. The chickens were super easy to clean and pluck (a major consideration, honestly), and they have big, juicy breasts and good-sized legs. But the big difference is the taste: ours are delicious! They have that 'what chicken is supposed to taste like' flavor. The meat is not dry and tasteless like most of the chicken I've had in restaurants. I stopped buying supermarket chicken years ago. I didn't see the point in paying that much for cardboard. We are looking at the less overbred broilers out there, but they just don't meet the requirements of a good-sized breast and tasty meat. But whatever we choose, we are going to raise more chickens this year, and believe it or not, almost half are already claimed! We have a few dedicated customers (many thanks!!). The other half will probably sell before we butcher them, or we'll eat them ourselves. Nothing like a good, home cooked chicken we raised ourselves. Did I mention I made chicken fricassee with one? Julia Child would have been so proud!

We have also come to adore our ducks and are going to raise a few more, mostly for the eggs, but also for meat. Our original gang of five (1 Indian runner, 2 Khaki Cambells, 1 Pekin) will have the run of the place forever, but the new lot will either lay eggs or be eaten. I can only let the warm heart go so far. The turkeys will, hopefully, breed over winter and we'll have some babies for next year. We feel like they were a success this year, so want to continue with them again. We want to also add Geese to our menagerie. Geese are very popular in Great Britain as a Christmas bird, and from all accounts are much more tasty than our national thanks-bird. I have never had goose, but look forward to trying it. To help our costs and make what we grow our very own, we are looking into buying an incubator for eggs. While I would love it if our birds could raise their own young, that is not the best solution for a farm trying to pay bills.

We still have thoughts of adding milk goats or cows to the farm but recognize that that will add a lot of time and effort that we aren't ready to commit to yet. I want to make artisanal cheeses and have our own raw milk, but goats are a big step up from chickens. We are also looking into Alpaca or maybe Llamas for fiber and (in the case of Llamas) guarding. The Alpaca are a huge investment, but perhaps it could be our way into making money at farming. I'm leaning toward Llama, myself, because I want animals for guarding as well as companionship and income. Llama aren't even a shadow of the cost of Alpaca, but I think the output matches the input. I wish we could win the lottery.

I am reading more and more about 'back to the landers' and 'urbanfarmers' lately. I'm so happy more people are recognizing the need to grow their own and re-connect to the land. Much of it is hard work, so many of those might fall by the way, but many will continue and pass along this new ideology to their kids. Good for them and for all of us. For those reading this who can't or don't want to farm or even have a garden, good for you, too, but remember that you get what you pay for and pay your farmers as much as you can truly afford. Skimp on the cable and the cell phone--it doesn't feed you or your family, but don't skimp on your food.

What food really costs

So last Friday was "turkey d-day" here at the farm. Yes, THAT day. I never quite know what to call it. Most people say they are "processing" birds, but really we are butchering them. Another semantic adjustment to help our little psyches from wholesale collapse, I guess. I do end up saying "processing" to our customers. I don't want to shock them or fill them with horror, but we are killing the birds for the human's dinner. Slaughter, prepare, carve, cut up, dress, cut, clean, joint are all synonyms for 'butcher'. I suppose it doesn't help that the word means both "to kill for food" and "to kill cruelly". Perhaps 'dress' is the best word? We dressed the turkeys. Well, we did that after we slaughtered them. But 'dress' sounds very classy.

So last Friday my friend Mary and I dressed several of the turkeys that Barry has been raising since April. Luck was on my side in that Barry got a last minute emergency landscaping job and had to be gone for the day. I think that really was the best thing. He has gotten very attached to the turkeys. He knows each by their personality and says they all look different. Hmmm.

The day was long and difficult. Mary and I are both animal lovers, and we recognize clearly what it means to raise and kill an animal. We don't like to do it, but we must do it. And we do it with as much grace and respect as we can muster. Quick, clean and humane are right up there as

Turkeys are big birds. Even though ours are Heritage Blue Slate turkeys, and don't get as big as the supermarket birds, a couple of the toms were pushing 20 pounds. It took us the best part of a day to dress just half our turkeys (we saved back six for a breeding trio and Christmas dinners). I have a new respect for my grandmother and the other women who kept their families fed. They did what we did, often alone, and without electricity or refrigeration.

We sold all our turkeys, but had one whose owner 'forgot' to pick up theirs. It was a 15# tom, great for a large family. I suspect from our conversation that the customer did not expect the turkey to
cost as much as it did. We charge $7.00/lb for our turkey. Yes, that is a lot of money! But guess what? The turkey you buy at the store for $.69/lb is NOT the turkey we raised, nor do we want it so. We aren't trying to market to everyone, but to people who really want to know exactly where their food is raised, how it has lived, how it was killed and that it is a sustainable piece of agriculture, not the current industrial monstrosity in which we are trapped. Our turkeys really DID lead happy, free lives on our pasture. They got to mix with chickens and ducks and humans; they ate organic grain and bugs and grass; they were talked to every day by a Welshman; they were slaughtered quickly and humanely and the only traveling they did was from the pasture to our refrigerator. For all you who "just want food, not philosophy", go to Publix or Kroger or where ever. I love knowing where my food comes from and how it was treated. That $7/lb will pay for their upkeep and some of my labor. What kind of pay out do you think that $.69/lb turkey gives to the farmer/processor/packager/store? You have to raise a LOT of turkeys at that price to get any return. Millions of turkeys, I think. I'll stick with what we are doing, even if it ends up that we are the only ones who eat them. I like the cost factor for me better.

Oh, and in case that isn't enough--this was THE BEST tasting turkey I have ever cooked. I have heard the same from a couple of our customers, too. There is not comparison between what we have raised and what you can get for super cheap in the store, both in style and taste. That makes it all worth it for us.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

And another thing...

Note to self (and others): working a full-time job in the theatre plus trying to run an all-natural farm means the blog probably gets lost in the shuffle more often than one wants. The thing about theatre is that it is organized just like any specific timed project, but with a non-negotiable drop dead date (the show MUST go on, no matter what). I think that in my 20+ years in the industry I've only been involved with one show that pushed back the opening by one week. I was an actor on that one, I just want to make that clear(not my fault, in other words, lol!). You just don't delay openings, but you can delay planting the turnips or butchering the chickens. The chickens certainly don't mind and the turnips don't have an opinion, despite what the vegetable rights activists say.

Hey, I thought this blog was about natural farming and living, so what gives with the other stuff? Well, just my way of saying "sorry I haven't posted in awhile, and you can bet it will happen again in the future". Okay, 'nuff said on that. The next post will actually be about animals!

Next up: Flying turkeys, waddling chickens, cowering tortoises and who knows what nonsense!

Oh, and here is Barry's Jack-O-Lantern for this year. I think his name is Purly.

Monday, September 7, 2009

You Can have too many roosters

I have been threatening to change the name of our place from Treffynnon Farm (which roughly translates from Welsh as "the farm by the stream"), to the more apt "Cockerel Corner" due to the large number of roosters we seem to be collecting.

We started out with two: one Rhode Island Red rooster who protects our egg-laying hens, and one Blue Chinese Cochin Bantam who came with his two lady friends. Along the way in my chicken rearing history of the past five years, roosters came and went, much to the delight and annoyance of my Atlanta neighbors. Now we live in a rural area, and everyone has a few chickens, maybe some ducks or doves. In the last year we have hatched several batches of Cochins (they are such broody girls!), but I think we win the prize topping out this week eleven roosters, with one baby I think will also turn out to be male. That will give us an even dozen.
This is not a good thing. Roosters are good to have around only for protection of the hens, they aren't needed for egg production since the hen lays eggs every day (or every other day) whether there is a 'man' around or not. If you have more than one, they will fight, most often to the death of one or another. Having a rooster does give one fertilized eggs, which can be hatched into more chickens or sold as having (in some circles) specific health properties. This brownish rooster was our "Gift With Purchase" chicken that we got when we ordered our chicks back in April. "Buy 25, get a Rare Heirloom Breed (hatchery choice) at no charge!!! We'll also include an extra chicken of the type you purchase just for buying". We are waiting for it to get older so we have a shot at identifying the breed.

So we got 25 females guaranteed plus one free rooster Silver-Laced Wyandotte and one free Unknown Chicken who turned out a rooster, too. What a surprise.

Plus, we have five Cochin bantam roosters who hang out together and argue a little bit. We call them the "Gang of Five".The bantam rooster who is top of the heap of the little chickens is Colonel Boogie and he is one tough little guy. He weighs maybe four pounds and has fended off hawks, crows, and a huge turkey vulture. He has earned his place as head of the bantams. The Gang of Five bows down to him at all times.

The big rooster Rhode Island Red is "Big Boy", and he is the one who lost his tail feathers to the possum. He has earned his spot in the pasture just by being able to wake up the household so we could battle the possum for him. He couldn't stand up to that huge bastard all by himself, so I helped him out a little, me and my metal fence post.

With such a plethora of roosters, we are faced with the choice of a) letting them have the run of the place, crowing at all hours and possibly annoying the neighbors and us, or b) butchering them and eating them. I have to be honest and blunt, although Barry will grumble at me for revealing it: I am in the "b" camp. I vote we eat them, even though the bantams are small and probably pretty tough at this age. Yes, they are beautiful, and yes, I'm sure they would make someone somewhere really nice show roosters, but no one wants roosters. They are useless and we have too many of them. Barry votes for "a", and so far seems to be winning, mostly due to apathy and inertia on my part.

We have done in two roosters since we've been here, but those two were Evil Roosters and needed to be Done In. They crowed at all hours. ALL. HOURS. It started at midnight, which got our other roosters going, then continued until dawn and then all day. It was tiresome. Plus, they attacked every human who got near them, and I just don't truck with no evil roosters. My baseball bat and I have a little talkin' to do to them roosters if they come flying at my face, which they did, and we did. But when it came time to do the deed and butcher them, I did it with as much kindness as I could muster, but I had no regrets. Unfortunately, they were too old by the time we butchered them and were both far too tough to eat. I guess they got the last laugh on us.

If anyone is interested in having an adorable, fluffy, sweet, funny-crowing pet bantam rooster, drop me a line. I'll deliver him in Atlanta or mail him for anywhere else in the lower 48 states of this great rooster growing country.

Cock a' doodle doo, y'all.

Just Mucking Around

This week Barry rented a mini-excavator to dig out the little mud puddle at the rear of our roods to turn it into a proper pond. You can see what it looked like before here.

When we bought the farm last summer we knew that we had a variety of small creeks that come together just in the back part of our property because even in the driest year ever there were three trickles of water heading into the triangle. Once the rains started coming down this winter, we discovered we really did have a pond. This is good news for us since it will help us with our pastured animals.

Ever since we've moved it has been on Barry's mind to widen the pond's walls, clean out the silt and muck, and make something pretty and useful.

Eventually we will plant shrubs and other vegetation on the banks and also add water plants. If we can stand the mosquitoes, it should be a nice place to visit in the afternoons.

Barry is so happy on his machine he stays at it for hours at a time. I mean HOURS, like six or seven, before I make him come in for something to eat and drink.

I'm hoping he'll have time to dig a foundation for my new smokehouse. More on that as (if) it progresses.

See you on the farm!

Sunday, September 6, 2009


We only had two watermelons fruit off the one vine that survived the intense heat and lack of rain this summer. The first melon was the size of a baseball and rotted before I could harvest it. This one that I took off the vine this morning is a nice icebox size and only has a small spot on the bottom where it got a little too much moisture during the last rain. It is a 'Moon and Stars' heirloom variety.

This is the rest of the morning take: pink tomatoes (some still a bit green but delicious fried) banana peppers, jalapeno peppers both green and red, and said watermelon. I'm planning on pickling the peppers with some okra we got from a neighbor. The watermelon we'll have for desert tonight. Should all be dee-licious.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Free Ranging

We've had a few changes recently here on the farm. After keeping our chickens under cover of chicken wire and in large pens for months, we've let them all out on the pasture to forage for themselves. This was a decision made to give them a better life, and us better eggs. Plus it is easier on the feed costs. We had closed them in because of the hawks that have been living in the area. We lost three chickens in two days early this spring, and we just couldn't stand to lose anymore, so we put them under cover.

A month or so ago our Silver-Laced Wyandottes were just too big to keep in their pen any longer, so we pastured them inside a large electric fence that we move weekly. So far the hawks haven't bothered them, even though they are easy pickings. I think the chickens are too big for the average hawk, which is about the same size. So now that all the chicks are grown, we hope the hawks won't bother with any of them, at least until next spring when they have to feed their own chicks, and I suppose then we'll close up our gang for a few weeks to keep them safe. Now the ducks and all the chickens can range free on our property. The small bantams have been finding their way into the dog's area, but our Azawakh don't seem at all interested in them. Lucky for the little chickens they were the ones on the field when the chicks came in for the 'greener grass' in with the dogs. They have all escaped injury, and the Wickles (as I call them) have gotten a lot of brownie points with Barry.

We have a few new additions to the flock. Recently we visited a farmer friend of ours in N. Georgia who raises Cornish Cross chickens for one of the 'big box' chicken companies. The ones you get at your local supermarket are raised in places like our friend farms. Every seven weeks he gets a delivery of 100,000 day old chicks to raise in his four computer-run long houses. He often has a few extra, so we took home 10 from a recent delivery just 18 days ago.

We are raising these for ourselves and friends as an experiment to see if we can take a hybrid bird with great meat, but raise them more slowly (10-12 weeks instead of 7) and use forage and organic feed. It will be a challenge as these birds are bred to eat constantly. To control their growth we have to control their feed. They aren't great foragers, so we won't worry about what they find themselves, but they are greedy with the feed. If we are successful, we'd like to raise new broilers four times a year and offer them to friends. They sure do make a good dinner. I'll let you know how it goes.

See you on the farm!

Monday, August 24, 2009

Too Early for the Great Pumpkin

A couple of months ago I went out to the volunteer squash patch (that grew from the old compost pile) to find several small green globes running amok. A few days later the green globes had become orange globes, therefore certifying their identity as pumpkins. Pumpkins? In August? What's up with that? Apparently some seeds know no calendar. It has been fun plucking the squash from their little nest, but I don't know what to do with them now. I want pumpkin in October and November, maybe September, but certainly not August when summer is still in the front of my mind and stomach. I want fresh tomatoes and lettuce, cucumbers and peppers. Yet here they are, the winter squash brigade, clogging up the garden space. Ah well, I guess I'll have to find a way to use the bounty, if not now, then put up in jars for later. We've found the butternut squash to be really tasty as a stir fry up with onions, and they melt in your mouth in a soup. I suppose it is a blessing no matter the season.

The chickens are doing very well. The Wyandottes are moved every few days to a different part of the pasture. We got a super light, portable electric fence that most of them agree to pretend is actually stopping them from leaving. A couple have figured out that if they fly up and over the fence it won't shock them. I think it is time to clip their wings. I haven't had to do that in a few years because my flock was small enough to contain, and the bantams can fly even with clipped wings, the little snots. The turkeys can fly like jet airplanes, so we are very careful with them when they are on pasture. They like to fly into the dog run and that would just be a tragedy in the making. I've no idea why the chickens and turkeys find the dogs so interesting. The ducks always keep away from the fence, but our Gang of Five Cochin roosters just love to stand at the fence and mock the dogs. They should be more careful, but since they are roosters I'm not too concerned about them. Eat or be eaten, they'll find a place someday.

We hope to have an open house in September and will invite everyone we can think of to stop by for a bit. More info on that later.

See you on the farm!

Free Fall

Hello August!

I realize it has been awhile since I updated the blog, and for those who are my loyal followers, I apologize. It seems like life just got so crazy a few weeks ago and hasn't slowed up a bit.

I think, too, that I get so caught up in that 'perfect blog entry' that I don't ever have the time to actually do it (of course not, who does?). What I am going to try to do from now on (fingers crossed) is to update more often but with shorter stories. I also get annoyed with blogger and how slow and clunky it is for photo uploading and moving things around, so you 'old timers' on here, drop me some advice to make my posting faster. TiA.

Barry found quite a great little freebie the other day. He told me he had found a tree that had fruit that looked like "a cross between an olive and a cherry". Hmm....when he took me down to the edge of the woods to show me, I pulled down a branch, smiled and said "Muscadines. We've got wild muscadines!" Then I jumped up and down with happiness and ate a few grapes. Yes, ma'am, this is a great little farm, with or without our help.

So tonight Barry dragged the ladder out to the tree (there are four, actually) and tried to get as many grapes as he could. This is a big bowl, and we've left at least two more bowls on the tree because it is just too high up. If that isn't just the saddest thing I've had to write, but yes, we can't reach all the fruit. Well, I guess the birds will feast on us this month.

For all you non-Southerners out there, muscadine grapes are native to the southeast U.S. and taste nothing like table grapes. They have a thick skin and a sweet, juicy, delectable center that is like candy. Scuppernongs are similar but remain green when ripe.

I'm off to look up muscadine jelly recipes. Mmm...

See you soon~

Sunday, July 12, 2009

One Less Possum

This morning about 4:00 am one of the dogs roused me from sleep. They do this sometimes, usually Lysander will have to go out to relieve himself at unholy hours of the morning. I don't know why since he's beyond four years old and a big dog, so he should sleep through the night, but Barry says he's spoiled rotten, so that's why he likes to roam the back yard at night. Here is a photo of him in my working hat. Isn't he cute?

Anyway, I digress. This morning the dogs got me up and I staggered sleepily to the back door and opened it. Usually they mosey out to do their business, but this time they shot out the door like the hounds of hell were behind them. Then I heard what they had: our rooster, Big Boy, cackling loudly. He wasn't crowing, he was yelling, putting up an alarm. I didn't hesitate, I grabbed the maglite flashlight and took off running, down the crazy granite steps, through the dog yard full of tree roots to trip me up, across the field trying to avoid the chicken tractor and the field of corn (did I mention I was in my pajamas and didn't have on my glasses?). I ran up to the chicken pen, and all the chickens were out there. The chickens are out? Chickens should be asleep! The rooster was still raising the alarm when I heard the most gawd-awful sound--like someone was sitting on a duck and jumping up and down to make it wheeze. Terrible! I ran around the corner to the barn and into the chicken room. The sound was coming from under the egg nests. I shined the light there and my brain made sense of what I saw before I could put words to it: POSSUM! A damn possum was trying to eat one of my chickens! Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot!!! (I used other words, but I think you can imagine them) I yelled "Get away from her you bastard!", and this was loud enough to get Barry's attention in the house, he tells me.

The possum moved reluctantly away from the chicken, and I looked around for something I could use to bludgeon the thing. Leaning against the wall were several metal fence posts. They weren't there yesterday, but boy am I glad they were there today. I grabbed one and with the flashlight in one hand and my fence post in the other I stared down the beast. It cocked its evil little eye at me, then back at the chicken. It wanted to try for her again. The chicken was moaning in fear and agony and I kept telling her, "It's okay sweetie, you'll be fine, just let me kill this [insert really bad word here] and I'll help you". The possum started to move and I let out a war cry and plunged my trusty sword down and into it and almost through the barn wall. It jumped and contorted and squeaked, but it couldn't get away because I had it pinned. I reached over to the roosting area and picked up the chicken with one hand (still holding the Evil Thing with the post in the other) and placed her behind me on another chicken shelf. She would not stop screaming, and a chicken screaming is an ugly sound, let me tell you.

At this point I was torn. If I let up on the beast he might still be able to run away, but I couldn't just hold him there forever, and if I put down the light I couldn't see to stab him again. Luckily at this point in the narrative the brave hero came through the door: Barry stepped into the barn saying "What the bloody hell is going on?" I was completely rushed on adrenaline at this point and could hardly speak, but he saw what was happening, said a few bad words and then picked up his own fence post. "Shall I kill it?", says he, "YES!!!", says I. And he did, vigorously, several times. Would you believe that possum was twitching for ten minutes? I made Barry haul it out of the barn and onto the fields with the Medea-like curse, "Let the hawks have him!". The Really Dead Possum the next day--he is a big specimen.

We examined our victim chicken and she was covered in blood, but seemed fine when looked at more closely, just missing a lot of feathers. We think one of her legs is broken, probably in trying to get away from the possum. She eventually calmed down and we took her back to the house with us and kept her in a small dog crate. She was fine for the night. She is now isolated in a crate in the same area with the other chickens, but since she is 'damaged' they would attack and hurt her, but we are hoping she can recover eventually. If not, then we will do the right thing by her. Poor Big Boy the rooster has lost all his tail feathers, his beautiful plume, and has a sore butt to prove it. My new favorite wound treatment is propolis spray, which is a gift from the bees. Great stuff, which I highly recommend for animals and humans alike.

We think this is the same possum who got one of our sitting Cochins about a month ago, but she wasn't in the barn with a rooster, so today's attack was a bold move on his part. He lost his chips, though, and human intervention won the day. Let's hope we can win future battles. I'll keep a fence post handy.
Big Boy before and after the attack. Poor guy.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

The Little Plant Laughed

The potatoes were a surprise harvest yesterday. The cabbage were shouting at me to pull them out and peel off the layers of slugs that had taken over (if it's good enough for a slug, it's good enough for us!), but the potatoes were a quiet victory. They didn't flower much, so Barry insisted it wasn't time yet to pull them up, and who am I to argue with a Welshman, not actually Irish only because of a little bit of water between them. I couldn't just leave those two sad, brown potato plants in the ground any longer, so I pulled them up: nothing on the end of it, oh well, the potatoes haven't come. Then I stuck my hand in the soil (because I can't leave anything alone) and lo and behold, there are potatoes down there--actual, edible potatoes! At least ten good sized spuds, all from two little chunks of potato with a sprouting eye on it back in early May. Now THAT is some powerful magic! The garlic came up the same way. I planted one little clove per hole back in November, then magic happens and each clove has turned into a whole bulb of tasty, organic garlic. Man, it just doesn't get any better than that.

Well, we got a little, teeny, tiny bit of rain today. Not enough to really do much, but better than nothing. When I went out to the garden to check on things, I found these tasty morsels: The slicing tomatoes are very slowly starting to turn red and pink. I re-tied many of the tomato vines that are getting heavy with fruit. The squash are taking over out there and it is like some strange sci-fi movie, "Attack of the fast-growing squash!". We can hardly put down a foot without almost stepping on another fruit. It is really very exciting to find these little presents every morning. Kind of like a tasty Christmas daily. I knew I would enjoy growing things, I just never had the time and space to do it. I'm trying to be good about keeping records, but that isn't really my style, so some info gets lost, like the Amazing Squash type that I planted. I can't for the life of me remember what it is. I can't find the seed packet, either. I started off writing everything down, but that stopped during the heavy rains since I couldn't write outside. This forgetfulness, or lack of attention seems to be doubled since this plant is growing better than any other in my garden, mocking me with its fruitfulness. Do plants have a sense of humor? Probably.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

This Week in Pictures, Part 2

The turkeys are getting bigger every day. They are starting to really look like turkeys (instead of cute chickens) and the males are starting to "strut", when they fluff up their tails and fan them out. They wouldn't do it while I had the camera, of course.

Barry is watering the corn and potatoes. He's looking a bit grim about the lack of water, and the extreme heat lately. It affects him as much as they plants, and they both wilt.

Last night during Bee Rush Hour.

A volunteer squash of some kind in the compost pile. We don't know what it is since we haven't eaten much squash this year. Clearly the compost doesn't get hot enough to kill seeds. I'm hoping for cucumbers.
I made this berry tart with an almond flour crust (no gluten for my friends who ask) and homemade cottage cheese for the base. The blackberries are from around the corner, but the strawberries and giant raspberries are from the store. Seriously, how do they get them to be larger than strawberries? I probably don't want to know.

Scarlet Runner beans. Not as prolific as we'd like, but they have pretty red flowers in late spring.

Squash blossom in the garden. This is a summer squash I planted only a few weeks ago and it is going nuts and taking over the entire garden. Next year I'm planting all the squash types out in the field where they can take over and run amok.
My first strawberry from my planters in the front yard. Tasty and beautiful.


The volleyball-size one is still out there, these are only baseball and racquet-ball size. :0)

From the seed catalog:

Tomato Giant Pink Belgium (Heirloom)
HEIRLOOM. A succulent and enormous dark pink tomato
HEIRLOOM. 88 days. A succulent and enormous dark 1-1/2 to 2 lb. pink tomato that many gardeners prefer to the more acidic varieties. The flavor is sweet and very mild, and the large fruits are very attractive. Indeterminate. Pink-skinned tomatoes occur as a result of a clear skin over red flesh. (Ordinary red tomatoes have yellow skin over red flesh.) When ripe fruits retain green pigment, tomatoes take on purple and brownish hues.