{"id":780,"date":"2010-04-01T18:26:58","date_gmt":"2010-04-02T01:26:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/?p=780"},"modified":"2010-10-20T03:55:54","modified_gmt":"2010-10-20T10:55:54","slug":"the-big-hay","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/?p=780","title":{"rendered":"The Big Hay"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>I know it’s not a big deal to most farmers.\u00a0 With their hundreds of acres and farm machinery worth thousands of dollars.\u00a0 But around here we work our 4 acres by hand.\u00a0 And we buy our hay in the squares bales that fit in the back of the Suburban.\u00a0 Or on a big load, in the back of the Chevy S-10.\u00a0 I know, I know, Diary of a Wimpy Farmer.<\/p>\n

So when my local hay dealer told me there were no more square bales, I was aghast.\u00a0\u00a0 “But, but…” I stammered.\u00a0 “I already moved the double stroller, the collapsible soccer net, and the boogie board out of the cargo space to make room.”\u00a0 He\u00a0 nodded sympathetically.\u00a0 “And the oldest kid is sitting up front, even though we don’t know how to deactivate the air bag, so I could cram all the kids in car seats into the second row.”\u00a0 He peered in at the children, who were headbutting each other due to lack of personal space.\u00a0 “And, most important, I’ve waited until the last minute to come by and I am totally out of hay!!”\u00a0 He shook his head sadly at my plight.\u00a0 “I will have to buy alfalfa pellets,” I whispered in horror.<\/p>\n

“Now, let’s don’t panic”, he said, straightening up.\u00a0 Irregular double contractions are one of my favorite things.\u00a0 It’s how us country folk recognize each other.\u00a0 It’s easier than a secret handshake and enables identification even when we’re spiffed up for church and don’t have our mud boots on.<\/p>\n

He pointed over toward the massive hay shed next to the grain silo.<\/p>\n

“I’m full up on round bales.\u00a0 Why don’t you save yourself some trouble and just put out a couple of those?\u00a0 Each one has about 25 square bales worth of hay in it.”<\/p>\n

I looked down at my Sloggers forlornly.\u00a0 Sloggers are the garden clogs I use for a lot of my farm chores.\u00a0 They’re waterproof and have a sole heavy enough for handling a shovel.\u00a0 But they aren’t really high enough to protect my ankles and the cuffs of my pants from mud.\u00a0 And the toes aren’t strong enough to keep me from screaming when the pony accidentally-on-purpose stomps on my foot.\u00a0 But they’re so<\/span> cute.\u00a0 I mean cute like I can wear them to pick up a kid from preschool and nobody realizes I was just cleaning the hen house.\u00a0 Cute like coming in colors called Geisha Blue and Petal Pink.\u00a0 Cute like a farmer with only 4 acres and a wheelbarrow for moving heavy things around.\u00a0 I sighed.<\/p>\n

“I don’t have a tractor to move round bales around,” I admitted.<\/p>\n

He shrugged.<\/p>\n

“Not a problem.\u00a0 I’ll load ’em up on the truck with my tractor and have my boy drop ’em off at your place tomorrow.\u00a0 He’ll back up to the barn and roll ’em right in for you.<\/p>\n

I hesitated.\u00a0 I thought about how there was no drive going to our barn, just a walking path across the front yard.\u00a0 I considered the way the yard sloped away from the barn, meaning the bales would have to be rolled uphill.\u00a0 I thought about how the door to the kidding barn was only 4′ wide and the last time I tried to open both of the double doors to the goat barn, the locks on one side were rusted shut.\u00a0 Then I thought about the cost of alfalfa pellets.<\/p>\n

“Sounds good,” I agreed.\u00a0 “Have him call me in the morning. Around 7:30?”<\/p>\n

“Sure,” he said.\u00a0 “‘We’ll’ve finished breakfast by 6:30.\u00a0 He’ll ring you up after that.”<\/p>\n

This is another way us country folk recognize each other.\u00a0 Most people don’t suggest calling each other before 9:00 in the morning.\u00a0 But if you don’t call us country folk before we go out to do the morning milking you might not catch up with us until lunchtime.\u00a0 Which we call “dinner”.\u00a0 (Like I said, better than a secret handshake.)<\/p>\n

That’s how I ended up on the phone, early the next morning, with a “boy” who had to be in his 30’s.\u00a0 He jotted down my address and assured me there was no delivery charge.\u00a0 He told me the bales were 5′ by 5′ and said he’d be right over.\u00a0 Leaving me exactly 6 minutes to notify the Other Half of my morning plan.\u00a0 The poor Other Half, innocently sipping his coffee in his pajamas, anticipating a relaxing day off from work.<\/p>\n

Let me tell you, shoveling manure isn’t the only dirty work in farming.\u00a0 There’s a lot of ugliness behind the scenes that you just can’t imagine.\u00a0 Like telling the Other Half I only needed him for a few minutes to help me manage the gates and steady the hay bales as we moved them.\u00a0 I like to think it wasn’t a lie so much as a hope.\u00a0 An expectation.\u00a0 A pipe dream.<\/p>\n

As soon as the Other Half saw that truck loaded with 2 enormous rolls of hay heading up the driveway, he turned to me, incredulous.<\/p>\n

“Do you think those rolls will actually fit through the doors into the barn?\u00a0 And just exactly how do you think we will get them over there?”<\/p>\n

I nodded confidently, even though fear and shock at the sight had me quaking in my Asparagus Sloggers.<\/p>\n

“Sure they will.\u00a0 He said they were 5′ by 5′ but I’ve seen round bales at plenty of other farms.\u00a0 They’re only 4′ by 5.’\u00a0 And we’ll just have him back up all the way to the barnyard gate so we don’t have too far to roll them.”<\/p>\n

“Back up a 2 ton truck OVER THE SEPTIC SYSTEM?!\u00a0 And roll the bales UPHILL?!”<\/p>\n

In the Other Half’s defense, this is exactly what the 30+ year old “boy” said when he exited the truck and asked me where he should put the round bales (except without the capitals and exclamation points).\u00a0 But after a moment, having obviously descended from a long line of farmers, he just shrugged and got on his work gloves.\u00a0 That’s what farmers do.\u00a0 If the hay needs to go in the barn, then the hay needs to go in the barn.\u00a0 Let’s don’t get upset about it.<\/p>\n

So he parked on the septic system and with some pushing, and shoving, and tilting, and 20-point K turns, we maneuvered those round bales right into the goat barn.\u00a0 Uphill.\u00a0 We nixed trying to squeeze one into the 4′ entry of the kidding barn because the “boy” pointed out,<\/p>\n

“Yeah, most round bales are 4′ by 5,’ but ours are bigger.\u00a0 I told you that on the phone, right?”<\/p>\n

The Other Half just stared up at the sky and shook his head.\u00a0 I think he was biting his tongue.\u00a0 Literally.<\/p>\n

It’s not his fault.\u00a0 When he met me I had an executive office and wore dress suits.\u00a0 He had no reason to suspect that eventually he would wake up to curds and whey separating in a strainer in the sink, a fridge in the middle of the deck filled with eggs and garden produce for customers, using the monkey bars on the kids’ swingset to hold ducks for slaughter, and 5′ by 5′ hay bales lumbering up the driveway.\u00a0 It can be hard to be a farmer, but it can be worse to be a farmer’s Other Half.<\/p>\n

And that’s enough of a pity party for them.\u00a0 I mean, really.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>In the end, the hay bales were tucked neatly into the barn and the children clambered up on top, wrestling and giggling a mere 4 inches from the rafters.\u00a0 Because nothing says, “Hey, these round bales are awesome!” like a bad fall and a concussion.\u00a0 The “boy” chuckled, patted a goat, gave the pony an ear scratch, and still insisted there was no charge for delivery.\u00a0 Even though it required the brute strength of an oxen team and the precision maneuvering of brain surgery. \u00a0 Just another day on the farm.<\/p>\n

As his truck roared off, the animals gathered around the hay in awe.\u00a0 The matriarch of the goat herd stepped forward and gave the bales a few experimental head butts.\u00a0 Satisfied with the lack of aggressive response, she made a couple full body rubs, and then snatched a mouthful of orchard grass goodness.\u00a0 With a nod of her regal beard and a wag of her tail, she signified her approval and the herd moved in for a morning snack.\u00a0 Not an effusive expression of pleasure, but she is, after all, the queen.\u00a0 Dignity, ladies, dignity.<\/p>\n

So now we have the Big Hay.\u00a0 Just like the Big Farms.\u00a0 With their Big Land and Big Machinery.\u00a0 What could possibly be next?\u00a0 A stainless steel pail instead of a mixing bowl for milking?\u00a0 Cross ties instead of an old stump for securing animals during hoof cleaning?\u00a0 A horse big enough to ride?\u00a0 Ooops!\u00a0 Sorry about that, Applejacks,\u00a0 I got carried away for a minute…….<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u00a9 Stevie Taylor 2010. All Rights Reserved.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I know it’s not a big deal to most farmers.\u00a0 With their hundreds of acres and farm machinery worth thousands of dollars.\u00a0 But around here we work our 4 acres by hand.\u00a0 And we buy our hay in the squares bales that fit in the back of the Suburban.\u00a0 Or on a big load, in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[89,53,90],"class_list":["post-780","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-bales","tag-hay","tag-rolls"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/780","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=780"}],"version-history":[{"count":48,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/780\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1551,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/780\/revisions\/1551"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=780"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=780"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=780"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}