Squarin’ and Swearin’
I recently asked a neighbor to split some of my fall hay 50/50. The whole idea was for him to mow, rake, and bale some of my hay, and he could have half. It sounded pretty easy to me. He informed me his New Holland hay wagon would pick up 54 bales at a time. All we would have to do is stack them in the barn. Now that’s my kinda square balin’! He spent a day bringing wagons, trailers, the baler, and rake. I should have seen this coming. Why did we need the extra trailers?
To my amusement, the neighbor mowed 4 of the 8 acres I had asked him to take care of. 4 acres! Are you kidding me? We will never get done at this rate! I changed my tune when he began baling. It didn’t help that he started baling at 4 in the afternoon with a rain coming, but my big surprise was the 600 bales on the little patch of hay! He hooked up the “Stackliner 1010″ , and as advertised, picked up 54 bales. Then he backed into my barn, tilted the thing up and all the bales tumbled to the ground. It sure didn’t leave a stack! We commenced to throwing and stacking bales. By the time we had them stacked, he came back with another load. He was running out of space to dump and politely said, “Can you load my truck?”
The work commenced! Now… back in my younger days, putting up 2000 bales a day was pretty good for us as a family. Starting at dark to put in 500 with little help was at the least… annoying. My cousin helped me get 60 bales on the neighbors pickup, then 85 on my trailer, 50 on the neighbors wagon, 80 on the neighbor’s trailer, and so on. I finally advised the neighbor that once all the hay was loaded, we were done. I hadn’t agreed to pick up his half, and I was definitely not going to start making trips to his farm to unload the bales I had stacked for him. Didn’t this whole thing start with, “All we would have to do is stack them in the barn”?
Just remember, something that sounds to good to be true, usually is. I am going to end this post with that. First, because I have made my point. Second, my arms are too tired to type anymore!
Done Been Hexed!
If you are from the eastern portion of our nation, or live in Amish country, you have probably seen these before. They are known as “Hex Signs”, and often adorn barns or houses in the hopes of swaying fate. Originally, they often contained a 6 sided star. In fact, some say the term “Hex” was derived from the mispronunciation of the German word “Sechs”, or six. Today you see more with a Distelfink (bird) Double Distelfink (2 birds), hearts, or other geometric designs.
"fertility"
There is no need to fear these Hex Signs. As far as I can tell, there are none designed to give passers-by an extra eye or anything incideous. They are intended to benefit the farm. Prosperity, Fertility, Strength, and Love seem to be the common goal. A Pineapple (meaning welcome), or the word Wilkum was often incorporated, almost advertising hospitality. Where can you find one of these historical pieces for your farm?
First, you must take a hair from one of your animals. Then at midnight, travel to a local cemetary… Ha Ha! OK, Halloween is next month! Actually, I would start at Zook’s Family Crafts. They have been making these signs for generations. Take a look at their on-line catalog. Use caution, as I said before, Halloween is next month!
Some Bad Boys
“OK you guys… There’s a new Sheriff in town.” I warn my latest captives, “I locked ya up, and yer stayin’ locked up.” The rogue bandits eyeball me suspiciously. “What are you lookin’ at Charlie?” I say in a gruff voice. “You better just be glad I didn’t use my whip back there in the corral.” Charlie glares at me, longing for me to venture to his side of the bars. It’s not just Charlie, the whole group moves their weight nervously from one foot then back again waiting for my next move. Slowly, I reach behind me. In one quick and practiced lightning fast move, I pull my trusty feed bucket! Yep, feed bucket.
These guys should have been weaned in the spring. With the delayed planting and rains, I could never get them corralled. Normally the bulls would have been castrated by now and they would be a little more manageable as steers. My wife once asked me why some bulls are aggressive. My answer, “Bulls are bulls”. These 700 pounders have decided they are grown up. Especially one Charolais in particular. If you think a 700 pound bull is small, see how many times you can get out of he corral before he catches up with you. They get bigger as they get closer!
Luckily I only have 3 of their sisters left to catch. The bad news… There are 30 more on another pasture. There’s a new sheriff in town… and he’s a little nervous!
Seasons are Changing…slowly
It sure has been hot! Looks like relief is on the way. For the last few weeks the low temperatures have stayed in the 80′s. Not cooling down overnight just makes the next day heat up quicker. The weatherman is finally giving the forecast I have been waiting on. High’s in the 70′s and lows in the 50′s! Way to go weatherman! Now see if you can hold off on the rain for a couple weeks.
The cool mornings cause lots of fog and dew. Makes me think back to when we used to walk beans and I’d be wet up to my chest. It does make for some interesting pictures though. I sure am glad there are no cows out this morning. They would be hard to find, and I would get soaked chasing them.
I saw my poor boat sitting in the A.M. fog. “Come on” it said, “Summer is almost over!” Sorry boat. Too much to do this week. Duck season is just around the corner anyway. I probably won’t have time for that either, but a change in seasons always brings forth new hopes and plans. Maybe I should try harder to chase a duck or two this year. Yep, new hopes and plans.
That’s Fair… State Fair, That Is.
In the old days, farmers would head to the state fair to see who had the fattest hog. Wives would prepare their best pies for the competition. Letters were written to relatives… “My watermelon is way bigger than yours!”. I picture my Grandmother covering the receiver on her telephone as she listened in on the party line. “Old man Brown is gonna take that fat steer to the fair”, She would report. For some it was a 2 day trip just to get there! These were big doin’s back in them days. Things have changed a little, but luckily, the state fair is still an agricultural showcase.
I had a few things I wanted to see at the fair this year. With a sudden cool-down in the temps, the decision was made. “Honey Bunches” let her Facebook friends know where she would be for the day, and we were off.
While I wasn’t actually looking for them, the mules are always interesting to me. Dad used mules when he was a kid. I picture them as the movie stereotype small and stubborn ones. You learn a little lesson when you see the big draft mules up close. Those guys are large! Today people compare tractor horsepower and wish they had the neighbors shiny four-wheel drive. A hundred years ago I can imagine the same thing as a one mule farmer looked across the fence at a 4 draft mule team disking a field.
Honey Bunches was relieved I was not looking to buy a mule! We looked at the cattle, the sheep, the chickens, and finally, what I had come to see. Between all the animals and vegetables are the equipment vendors. I looked around and TADA, I found the pole barn sales people. After visiting 4 dealers, I came away with the realization there are no cheap pole barns! Maybe my dream shop will have to wait a couple years. At least I have all the pamphlets and info I need to make an informed decision.
We went back to the veggies and saw the Missouri record pumpkin. Not a world record, but 738 pounds in case you are curious. We made a loop through the hot tubs and spa vendors. Those would be a nice addition to the house! Finally full of fair food we decided to make the trek home.
Tired, we make our way through the front door and take a break on the couch. Honey Bunches checks her email. “Is there anything to see at the State Fair?” asks a Facebook friend. Maybe not for this particular friend, but there was plenty for us.
Finally Finishing Up Hay
I have had so many hay posts, you probably think nothing else goes on around here. For this time of year, you would be almost correct! Visitors love the farm sights and sounds, but remember, we are out here everyday working in the sun. I did take some scenic pictures you may enjoy while I finished up the hay raking.
The old M Farmall did pretty good this year. It had a sputter I couldn’t quite get figured out. When I would apply the brakes, or turn up a hill, the goverver would kick in and vroom, we were off again! Dad bought this old tractor back when it was new. I have been using an Oliver 880 to rake the last couple years. It was surprising to me to get back on the narrow front end tractor with power steering. Nice cornering with the old basket rake!
I raked a large hill reminiscent of our Pennsylvania trip. The hay was thin here and I rolled 3 windrows into one. I had to make it heavy enough for the baler guy’s big round baler. I think he appreciated the view from the hill. He didn’t complain about the raking.
Then I headed to some terraces around a large pond. The hay here was almost too heavy to double rake. The baler guy’s new baler makes good 5X6 bale. I estimated this patch to be about 8 acres. When the baler guy was done, we had 41 bales in this little field!
I could mow some more waterways. I could mow some more pasture. So far we have a little over 400 big round bales this year. At 13 dollars a bale to roll it up, I better quit. Fertilizer, equipment, and custom baling costs are up again. Beef, my end product, is not.
That’s Not Fair!
OK Mother Nature! I have had about enough! You have frozen my cattle waterers. You have knocked out all my water gaps. You have flooded my beans. Don’t you think that’s enough for this year? I guess not! I think this time you have gone a little too far!
I know it’s a little game we play. I try to put up hay, you try to rain on it. Your job is to give us farmers as much grief as you can dish out. When you threw 7 inches of rain on my hay field, I waited to mow. After I mowed you sent another inch of rain. Even after I baled, you rained on my hay again. I know it upset you when I got the hay dried and baled, but this is getting out of hand!
Lightning?!? You are zapping my bales with lightning? That’s just uncalled for, not to mention dangerous! What if I had been out there trying to haul those bales in? Have you even thought of that? Maybe you were hoping I would be out there! I can see the full extent of your cruelty now. Rest assured, Mother Nature, I will be keeping my eyes on you… and checking the lightning rods on my house!
The Green Green Grass Of Home
Hayin’ time is in full swing in Salt Creek Township. Dodging ditches and rain, I am putting up hay as fast as I can. I have been mowing the heaviest hay first. Probably a mistake, but I hated to see the clover and timothy drying up. I seem to be able to mow faster than I can get it raked, baled and hauled in. Having a 3 year old mower and a 25 year old rake may be to blame! 
The clover, fescue, and timothy mix seems to be a good combination for the disk mower. I can run about as fast as I can stay in the seat without dragging the motor down. New blades help a lot, and it is obvious as you watch the RPM’s slowly drop through the mowing season.
I had about 40 acres down and got it baled up before the rain started again. There is still about a 150 acres to go, but with the threat of rain looming again, I am hauling hay in instead of mowing. Once again, probably a mistake. In the words of a wise farmer I know, (maybe not all that wise) You gotta do somethin’!
Feeling Independant
I actually took July 4th off to see a parade. It was a nice, but short hometown affair. A few firetrucks, a bagpipe player, 8 political trucks, one float, and the Shriner fire trucks. The length of the parade was not as important as just taking a break. The hay, planting, and cow chasing had left Honey Bunches with a desire to go see how town-folk live. Luckily for me, they didn’t overpower her with a school band or twirlers or… well, I don’t remember anything but the bagpipes that were memorable.
What brought on this trip de jour? Here is a rundown of the previous week. We disked, field cultivated and drilled beans again. The rains have delayed us to the point of giving up, but a dry week meant bean planting time. My mom said, “I wish I could help you out”. I took her literally, and that is her driving the tractor with the field cultivator. Without her help, the beans would not have been in before the next rain.
A lot of hay got mowed raked and baled. I broke a perfectly good rake. Despite all repair efforts, I ended up borrowing a rake from a neighbor.
In the end, all down hay was baled before the rains moved in. I wish I could have hauled all the bales in before the rain kicked in. I did however, haul all the bales to the tops of ridges and out of the low lying areas. Now I need to fix my rake. I know how things happen around here, and I would like to return the neighbor’s rake while it is still in one piece!
One cow celebrated her independence by doing a dance.
Try as we may last year, this old girl refused to leave the pasture with the other cows. Through the winter we hauled hay to her. I am not sure how she got water since she would run away every time we tried to chop ice for her. Through sub-zero temps and 6 foot high weeds she has been happy to hide in this pasture alone. After I mowed part of the pasture, she was amazed at her ability to run free again. I got this pic as she kicked up her heels and once again headed for the ditch.
Happy Independence Day, you crazy cow!
I’ve lost my bearings!
With the rake tires aired up, I hitched up the old M Farmall. I was confident there would be no problems, as I completely rebuilt the gearbox and replaced the U-Joints on the New Holland 258 hay rake two years ago. Running around to grease the bearings, I noticed one was loose. I gave the bar a jerk and it separated from the hub. That’s pretty loose! After 2 trips to the parts store I had everything I needed, except time.
“What time you gonna start rakin’”, asked the baler man. “Don’t know”, I said, “Rake’s torn apart”. A neighbor hearing of my plight loaned me a wheel rake. “Now I’m ready”, I thought. This time I hitched up the Oliver 880 tractor and was off to rake. After about 20 acres, I started to exit a field, but couldn’t steer straight. I looked back at the rake to see if it was pulling too hard and lifting the front of the tractor. Nope! It was the tractor. The pin in front shaft had worn through and one wheel was facing left and the other right. While searching for parts, baler man showed up with his shiny Case/IH Baler. “Having troubles?” He chuckled.
With the repair completed, I left baler man and headed to another patch of hay. I kept expecting to see him speeding down the gravel road, pushing me to go faster. He never showed. Even when I finished raking, no baler man! Upon further investigation, I found a bearing had gone out on top of his baler. He smoked a couple belts and the shaft spun a clean foot long slice down the side of his shiny baler. “Havin’ troubles?”, I asked.
