The Rural Voice, 1990-02, Page 44NOTEBOOK
FREE FERTILIZER
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and the joy of spring
Sometime after the last flake of
snow melts off the land, and before
the grass grows knee high, farmers
come to the realization that they have
to get out the manure spreader and
dispose of the huge pile of animal
waste behind the barn. The job just
can't be avoided any longer.
a tale by Jim Lawrence
Lawrence's Second Principle of
Farming says: "Whenever anything
breaks it will be in the field when you
have a full load."
About noon, just before he "quits
for dinner," with a fresh sloppy
load piled high, the farmer turns on
the PTO and hears a quiet crunch.
About noon, just before he "quits for dinner," with
a fresh sloppy load piled high, the farmer turns on the
PTO and hears a quiet crunch.
With some reluctance, the aver-
age farmer hooks his tractor onto the
spreader and trundles out behind the
barn. He backs the spreader as close
as he can on the dry ground, realizing
that before the hour is out it will be up
to the axles in muck. He leaves one
tractor hitched to the spreader and
climbs onto his other tractor with the
loader. Sighing deeply, he begins.
The first load isn't too bad. If it's
a nice day he can enjoy the long trip
down the lane. When he reaches the
field he flicks on the PTO and chooses
his route. Soon the waste is tossed
high into the air, completing the cycle,
returning last year's "processed" crops
to the soil. I hope he remembered his
hat!
After two or three loads, boredom
sets in. A thinking person can only
drive up and down the same lane so
many times. Lulled by the roar of his
tractor and the high odour of his load,
the farmer drifts into a mechanical
stupor.
Lawrence's First Principle of
Farming reads: "Whenever things
seem to be going well, something's
about to break."
Before he can turn off the power he
sees the chain and the paddles, which
were under the load, roll out onto the
ground.
Somewhere under his load the
weak link (the one that his chain was
only as strong as) snapped.
He takes the load back to the barn.
Cursing and swearing, he unloads the
spreader by hand. Fortunately, most
farmers are already wearing their
rubber boots.
With the spreader empty it's easy
to see where the chain broke but not as
easy to feed in the broken ends so new
links can be hammered into place.
Most farmers are smart enough
to have a number of square links on
hand, and they avoid the 15 -mile drive
to the dealer. Tough luck if he forgot
to buy a few spare links! Tough luck
for his wife, that is, the official
"gopher," who finds herself in the
pickup heading towards town.
Before the day is over he'll have
replaced an idler on the drive chain,
broken off a grease nipple, had a flat
tire on the front of the tractor (he
drove over the manure fork), and have
transformed his road into a slippery,
smelly, manure -coated track that
won't clean up for weeks to come.
He hopes the spring rains will wash
away his memories of the day.
Working by himself with one
spreader it may take a week for the
farmer to scrape the barn apron clean.
Weeks later, if he gets caught in the
rain, the faint odour of manure will be
noticeable in his often -washed grey
hair. Grey? Of course it's grey.
Farming gives everybody grey hair!
With the apron clean again, the
farmer parks his spreader under cover
and with an affectionate kick to the
wheel, which he immediately regrets
(kicking a tire when you're wearing
rubber boots is painful), leaves it for
another year.
It's no wonder that farmers
sometimes get together to remove
each other's manure piles. A manure
bee is a good way to see the pile
diminish quickly, and five or six
manure -coated men joking together
have more fun than one man kicking
tires and leaping around holding his
toe in agony.
There really is some question as to
whether farmers spread the winter's
waste in order to fertilize their fields
or simply to remove the annoying pile
behind the barn.
I've often thought that a good
design for a barn cleaner would end in
a rocket -propelled chute which would
blow the animal waste out over the
fields. But until such a system is
designed, sometime in the early part
of the year you'll see farmers, with
unhappy expressions, dragging
heaping -full manure spreaders over
their fields.
I guarantee they'll all be wearing
hats!
Summer Grain
a poem by
Roger J. Kenyon
A green summer grain field
Teased by an unseen scythe
Awaiting fall's golden yield
From a razor cutting edge blithe
Dark then light then dark once more
Rolling waves to an absent shore.
FEBRUARY 1990 41