A Job Done

The haying is officially finished. I was back at the farm on the 15th. I picked up bales for a couple of days, but the rains began on Thursday the 19th. I didn't really mind since it meant that I could spend the day watching the British Open. There were problems with the house in Toronto so I had to rush up there to deal with some water problems. Apparently the flash flooding caused some leaking in the basement apartment. I dealt with that and was back at the farm on Friday the 20th.

It was raining on the Friday, so my plan to work was replaced with golf-watching. It had rained so much that the two front fields had giant springtimeish puddles in the low spots. Nevertheless, what we had been hoping for was finally being forecasted: a straight stretch of nothing but sun. We watched the weather maps and a big high pressure front was heading down along the jet stream towards us.

On Saturday morning, I was on the fields by 10am (after the dew had dried off) and cutting hay. Though the fields were wet in spots and the haybine was, at times, underwater, I didn't care. I knew that this was my chance to finish this awful job and that most of the water would dry up. The hay was going to take a little longer to dry, but the weather was finally cooperating and I knew we could afford the extra time.

I finished cutting the final 6 fields on Saturday and had Sunday off while they dried. I watched the British Open.

My Dad had to go to work on Monday so I was left to rake and bale by myself. The hay was almost ready and just needed to be raked and to dry for a few more hours. Some parts were still wet, but I wasn't going to panic about the odd spot that wasn't quite done. I started raking at 10:30 and finished three fields at 3:00. After a few glassed of water and some chocolate cookies, I headed out to bale.

The baling started out well, but after making about 30 bales I noticed that as I closed the door there was a puff of oil coming from the side of the machine. I investigated, and discovered that one of the hydraulic tubes had been worn away by an errant gear chain. The pressure of the oil had burst the tube. Every time I closed the door (i.e. used that hydraulic tube) oil poured out.

Hydraulic oil is very expensive for one thing, but I knew that this breakdown was going to have to be fixed before I could continue baling. Oil was pouring down the side of the machine and getting into the bales and as much as I would like all of the cows to die, I didn't want them poisoned. I headed up to the house to make the repairs.

It was 6:15 at this point and, of course, all the farm supply shops were closed. I also discovered that that particular tube was very complicated. It weaved in and out through the machine and replacing it was going to be a major job that required taking large sections of the baler apart. I abandoned replacing it and tried to think of how I could repair it.

I tried using metal tape, but it did nothing. The pressure was just to great and it continued to leak. I got out the soldering equipment and hoped that liquid metal would seal up the hole and be thick enough to keep it together until the end of the job. We could take it to the welder to have it properly repaired once the 40 acres of hay was off the ground.

My Dad got home from work and the solder did manage to repair the hydraulic tube. It wasn't perfect, but we thought that it would be good enough. It was too dark to return to the fields, so we went inside for supper. (Not to be confused with dinner. In farming country, "dinner" is the second meal of the day.) I watched Hell's Kitchen, and the vastly superior Gordon Ramsay offering, Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares.


I was up early on Tuesday. My Dad called me to warn me that there was rain in Kingston and that I'd better get the raked hay baled up just in case it moved our way. The soldering job seemed to be working and I managed to bale the raked fields from the previous day. My Dad booked the afternoon off of work and we worked on the last three fields. The final bale rolled out at 5:36pm. We made 618 bales all together.

I started bringing the new bales up from the fields and stacking them. I had already cleared off the other 10 fields, but the problem with working on the bottom part of the farm is that there is a lot of travel time. It takes almost an hour to drive to the bottom fields, load up the wagon with the 14 bales, drive back to the house and then stack the 14 bales of hay. It isn't a difficult job, but when you have to make 12 trips, it is a pain.

I got up early on Wednesday and was in town at 8:15 to buy two new tarps for the haystacks. We made so many bales this year that we ran out of covers. I bought two 48' x 23' tarps and bought 10 ten-foot pieces of re-bar. It has taken us many years of trial and error to come up with the best way to cover the hay and to keep it covered. I worked all day on Wednesday and managed to finish. My butt and lower back were sore from bouncing around on the tractor, and my wrist was sore from steering and operating the bucket.

So on Wednesday night, I had a couple of beers to celebrate the end of the job.

I got up early again on Thursday to get myself organized. I needed to pack and hit the road without leaving any loose ends. I'm staying at my girlfriend's house, but unfortunately had to bring my Dad's dog. He has some big plans this weekend and couldn't leave her at home and couldn't take her with him. We're meeting at the cottage so that I can return her, but in the meantime I've got a standard poodle in tow.

She rode well in the backseat of the pickup truck for the 5.5 hour drive yesterday. I'm always very nervous when she's in a small apartment because not only is she big, but she's high-energy and loves to bark. She's used to living in the country and all the noises of an apartment building and the street noise usually has her on edge. She growls at noises for most of the day and I'm afraid that she's going to disturb the neighbours. I can't leave her alone because I can't handle it when she barks as I walk downstairs. As a result, she came running with us last night. We were going to run a short 4 kilometres around the neighbourhood. She was very excited at first and pulled at the leash, but as time and distance dragged on, she dropped back to the point of having to be pulled. For the last 800 metres or so, I had to walk and she still slugged along behind with her toenails scraping occasionally on the sidewalk.

I haven't done much today because I want to stay here with the dog. We're heading to the cottage for a weekend on the dock in about 45 minutes. I'm sure exactly what I'm going to do when I don't have a monumental chore to do, but I'm sure that it won't be long until something else comes along to keep me busy.