Shit Happens: The Exploding Fish Emulsion

In March and April we receive the last of our spring rains. This is the time of year we like to give the soil around the vines a little boost by pumping diluted fish and kelp emulsion through a temporary drip irrigation system. We only want to do this during the spring rains so the native precipitation will carry the emulsion deep into the soil, replacing nutrients naturally. The fish and kelp combination also encourages the biodiversity and health of the cover crop and soil life, including natural fungi, microbes, worms, and insects.  We ordered a barrel—a 50 gallon drum—of fish and kelp emulsion from a firm in Oregon. Unfortunately, the emulsion was on backorder for a long time and didn’t arrive until spring was over and the rains nothing but a memory.

So we put the drum in the walnut processing shed until the next spring. It sat in the open shed through a hot summer and fall and a cold winter. The following spring arrived. One sunny morning around 7 am Dan was eager to get started on vineyard chores.  With no particular warning to me he said, "Hey, come help me set up the fish emulsion drip!" I protested sleepily that I was still in my peejays.  I would also be working in the tasting room that day, so I wanted to change into some clean jeans and a sweater first. "No, you don’t need to change. This will just take a minute."

So I let him talk me into riding down to the creekside barn on the ATV, still dressed in my black velour pajamas, with a pair of Uggs on my cold little feet. Dan unscrewed the cap on the drum and explained that my job was to kneel at the base of the drum and hold a five-gallon bucket steady while he dumped a few gallons of fish emulsion into the bucket. Our drip emission feeder is a five-gallon model, so Dan would then pour the emulsion into the feeder and set the drip rate. Once the water was turned on, the water would pass through the feeder, dilute the emulsion and carry it up the hill, depositing it at the base of each vine in a steady drip.

So there I was, kneeling down and holding the bucket as Dan tipped the drum over. We were unaware that over the course of the year, the emulsion had fermented anaerobically in its enclosed drum. Its contents had morphed into something even more awful than the original contents.

The top layer of the emulsion had baked into a thick, crusty cap. The crusty cap held the thick goo back as Dan pushed the drum even farther toward me. I grew nervous as the drum tilted over until the opening was aimed right at me but nothing came out. Suddenly the cap burst, and the drum vomited fermented fish goo all over me—an uneven emulsion of watery discharge and thick clumps of brown, odiferous fish slime. I was completely covered, head to toe, in fermented fish guck. Dan gulped. His eyes grew large.  After a moment he said, "Don’t worry. I’m sure it will wash out."

We walked up the hill together, checking to see that the drip irrigation emitters were properly functioning at the base of each vine. I was about two rows over from Dan, over twelve feet away. He said, "Boy, the emission feeder is working already. You can really smell the fish emulsion."

"No, honey," I said, somewhat depressed. "I think that’s me you smell."

He leaned over a row of vines and sniffed. "Ooh, you’re right."

Comments

[Ed Smith]

Mary, I detected a subliminal message in you article. I suspect that Dan owes you a new pair of Uggs, perhaps some new jammies are in order also. Perhaps a facial, pedicure and manicure. Fish emulsion is really hard on ones body, let alone ones psyche.

[Mary B.]

Actually, he made me one of his special Bloody Mary's, with horseradish and all the good stuff. Problem was, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to drink it or shampoo with it.

[Craig Camp]

Having smelled this concoction you have my deepest sympathy!