There is an old saying that you make hay when the sun shines. What a load of crap that is. The only hay I have ever baled in my life while the sun was shining was wild meadow hay that was very forgiving about how it was put up. Mow it down one day, let the sunshine down on it and rake and bale it up the next. Alfalfa on the other hand requires a doctoral degree in molecular biology, the sign of the moon to be just right, all the stars to align in order, no humidity for the first two days after it is mowed and then just enough humidity to keep the leaves sticking to the stalk when you go to bale it, and a permission slip from God himself to get alfalfa baled correctly. There have been great advancements in steam technology that allows alfalfa to all be baled at a specified moisture level, but for the average rancher and cowman, we figure that hay in a bale is better than a snowbank when it comes to feeding cows.
The start of hay season is always so exciting. You’ve spent weeks working on all the equipment that you swore you would fix over the winter, only to remember you forgot to do that little project about the time the hay was needing to be mowed. During this period of mechanical enhancement, children learn new words that they add to their vocabulary at the most inopportune times, like Sunday school. You have also been to the local dealership no less than a 100 times because apparently the guys at the parts counter and weathermen are the only people in the world who can get it wrong day in and day out and still keep their job. You’re covered in oil and grease and have a profound new hatred for the inventors of net wrap. By the time the hay is ready to be mowed, you’ve already renamed the mower twice and swear you are going to sell the farm if the air conditioner quits this summer.
It doesn’t take long once you are in the hay field to experience the peace and quiet of machinery running, the simple fascination of standing hay forming neatly outlined windrows, and the local hawks and eagles hovering above watching for an easy meal as acre after acre gets knocked down. This peace is short lived, for in the middle of the hayfield a startled skunk made his last stand against the mighty mowing machine by allowing his final resting place to be jammed tight between the conditioner rollers where you have to free him for a proper burial. No air freshener in the world can mask that odor.
A few days of sunshine go by and you begin to feel hopeful that you will get the beautiful green windrows put into a bale without getting rained on, after all your favorite weatherman/parts counter employee told you that there was no rain in the forecast for the next two weeks! You move the rake and the baler down to the field and feel the hay. The stems crack in your hands, but the leaves disintegrate like parsley. When the dew starts to come on tonight it’s go time! The crack of thunder and the pitter patter of rain on the window interrupts your supper. So much for the hay being ready to bale tonight. You remember that prison is a scary place and you probably shouldn’t throw the wrong bearing you have to take back to your second home at the dealership tomorrow at the parts guy for telling you his forecast.
By the time you finally get to the hayfield, you don’t particularly care if the hay is the right moisture or not. You are sick and tired of fighting with mother nature and her seven different moods that you decide to put that stuff in a bale. If it blows away because it’s too light, well at least the neighbors cows got to eat good, and if it was too wet and starts a fire, you’ll park the skunk odor flavored mower next to the stack before you call the insurance agent. Either way it’s in a bale and you made hay.
Hope everyone had an enjoyable summer and are winding down with your hay season. It’s been slim pickings chasing windrows in our part of the world with the drought, but with some help from God above and a favorable forecast from parts counter weatherman Tommy, we might get a little rain. That’s all for this time, keep tabs on your side of the barbed wire and God bless.