Because everyone knows the expression "make hay while the sun shines," even the most urban among us can guess that this has been a tough farming summer. But tough does not begin to describe it.
There is lots of hay in the field, and after last year's drought when we were all short of hay, an abundant crop is important. But some of the grass is five feet tall so the stalk is tough and thick. It will take longer to dry when it is cut, and even then our sheep won't eat it. They'll pull it out of the bale and kick it around.
Because the hay is tough, we need a sunny day to cut it. Because those hours of sun are at a premium we start sooner than perhaps we should. And many of us are laying it out wider than sometimes, to provide more access to sun. In the middle of our field, the long stalks stopped flying like they should and instead wrapped around the lower roller, jamming against the frame. Half an hour later, with sore, tired, bruised hands, I and the haybine went back to work.
Thick hay needs days to dry. Those who take haylage--high moisture grass and alfalfa that is put in a silo or wrapped in white plastic--had a few nice days in early June and got that crop in. But a couple of those days were super hot and sunny so that I know one farmer who had a couple loads dry out too much.
Until the last couple days, nothing else is dried out much. I cut one field early so that we could hope to get some second cut for our lambs. It got rained on and rained on. Finally, when we had a day and a half of sun, we raked it. A couple hours later, I headed out to bale, leaving the outer two shaded rows. When the rest was rolled up, I decided to try the outer two rows. A wet wad was thrown up around a top roller, jammed against the frame, stopping the machine cold.
Those two rows were too thick to leave--they would have killed the hay underneath--so eventually they got baled, though the hay was black and moldy, unhealthy and useless.
And that jam up? Three hours of slicing the hay with a box cutter, prying it with a screw driver, pulling until hands and arms were sore, banged up and bruised is what it took to unjam the baler.
Ten days later, we did get fifteen acres of lovely hay that just got a little rinsed. But sections of the fields were left because the ground was saturated, and the hay there just did not dry. You've probably seen ruts in fields you drove past and low corners with dry brown hay laying there. Even if it will damage the grass beneath because it is too wet and soggy to pick up. One of these sunny days I'll take a hay fork and spread out what I can.
One day we succeeded in baling, we hoped to finish. But by six o'clock, dew was forming and the hay started to draw moisture from the ground. It jammed the pick-up on the baler. The next morning, after pulling out the clogged hay and replacing broken tines, I tried again. Four jam-ups and two bales later, the thing stopped completely. The tine bar had come loose. Parts are ordered, but meanwhile it poured, and the baler is waiting again. My hands were sore, tired, cut and bruised. Again.
Driving down the road, you may have seen seeding equipment still sitting on fields that are not yet planted. Since April, there have been a very few days when the land dried out enough to work. Seed is paid for and in the shed for those fields, but if planted now, it may not have time to mature. And we've all seen stunted, yellow corn in fields that are too wet.
Gardeners haven't got seed in. Bees are starving in the hives that bee keepers can't get the truck near to provide the syrup that isn't usually needed until November. Strawberries started great, but the plants got inundated with moisture. My garden has lots of peas, but on some the blossom end is rotting.
Apples look good. Trees look healthy. The pasture is holding out better than last year. Some crops will do well, especially on high ground. But if you run into a farmer stressed to the max, or find the price on veggies higher than you like, you will know why.
Cathy Hird is a farmer, minister, and writer living near Walters Falls.
