Baler has put itself in a self destruct mode and no one can figure out why. They may have ideas but they wonder if warranty will cover it and I always worry when the mechanics say they will have to call the area rep to see what to do. Anyway, I can't bale until the replacement baler gets here later today, the hay is already to dry, the wind has scattered a bunch of the hay and I am not going to swath anymore until I know I have a baler that works, so I am sitting here thinking and writing down my thoughts.
I LOVE TO HAY
One of the consequences of ranching in the north
Is providing feed during the winter, a matter of some recourse.
My friends from the South, they don’t spend time with all this hay,
They have time for fishing and kids, and other kinds of play.
We up North have other things that we have to do,
Just give me a moment, and I will tell you a thing or two.
No more rain, no more storms passing through,
I’m headed for the hay field, cutting hay that is about past due.
The swather is fine tuned and running like a champ,
We get this all going, we’ll be done before 4-H camp.
Here I am going, and going at a very good speed,
Just then I notice the hydraulics, have really started to bleed.
The cutter is starting to mess up, maybe I could slow down,
And then I notice the temp is going up, when it should be going down.
Time to shut it down and let it lose some of this heat,
Terrible that new machine will not perform, up to it’s reputed feat.
Oh well, there’s other hay that’s dry enough to make a bale,
Let the swather sit idle, and try to figure out just why it had to fail.
Time to roll some of it up, get it in the stack,
Go after it like it’s an enemy, that I am about to attack.
Baling is such fun, especially at night,
You need to do it when there’s dew, to make the moisture right.
You bale all night, run the swather during the day,
Just can’t believe the fun you have, while your making hay.
There’s little time for sleep, eating on the run is a trick,
As for my eyes, I can prop them open, with a used tooth pick
Just when you think that the weather is on cue,
Mother Nature throws a curve ball, directed right at you.
A storm blows through and gets everything pretty wet,
And that was not planned, at least when you placed your bet.
Now that the breeze is blowing, things are really starting to dry,
Got to get that baler going, give it that good ole college try.
But just when I get things going, having a little stress,
I look back behind me, the baler is a mess!
That tire has gone flat, but only on one side,
And that bearing is a smoking, that I cannot hide.
Now with the baler shut down, maybe I can get some rest,
Maybe I should call the mechanic, at fixing things he’s the best.
But then the wife reminds me of the bill I’d have to pay,
Who on earth is worth 65 an hour, that I hear her say.
So down to the shop I go, with water bottle in hand,
Down to do a job, a job I really cannot stand.
My knuckles now are bleeding, my shirt is filled with dust,
But I will get the baler running, that is a certain must.
It is so much fun, spending all my time in this way,
And there you have it all, my reasons for loving to hay.
Scott Wiley 2005
I LOVE TO HAY
One of the consequences of ranching in the north
Is providing feed during the winter, a matter of some recourse.
My friends from the South, they don’t spend time with all this hay,
They have time for fishing and kids, and other kinds of play.
We up North have other things that we have to do,
Just give me a moment, and I will tell you a thing or two.
No more rain, no more storms passing through,
I’m headed for the hay field, cutting hay that is about past due.
The swather is fine tuned and running like a champ,
We get this all going, we’ll be done before 4-H camp.
Here I am going, and going at a very good speed,
Just then I notice the hydraulics, have really started to bleed.
The cutter is starting to mess up, maybe I could slow down,
And then I notice the temp is going up, when it should be going down.
Time to shut it down and let it lose some of this heat,
Terrible that new machine will not perform, up to it’s reputed feat.
Oh well, there’s other hay that’s dry enough to make a bale,
Let the swather sit idle, and try to figure out just why it had to fail.
Time to roll some of it up, get it in the stack,
Go after it like it’s an enemy, that I am about to attack.
Baling is such fun, especially at night,
You need to do it when there’s dew, to make the moisture right.
You bale all night, run the swather during the day,
Just can’t believe the fun you have, while your making hay.
There’s little time for sleep, eating on the run is a trick,
As for my eyes, I can prop them open, with a used tooth pick
Just when you think that the weather is on cue,
Mother Nature throws a curve ball, directed right at you.
A storm blows through and gets everything pretty wet,
And that was not planned, at least when you placed your bet.
Now that the breeze is blowing, things are really starting to dry,
Got to get that baler going, give it that good ole college try.
But just when I get things going, having a little stress,
I look back behind me, the baler is a mess!
That tire has gone flat, but only on one side,
And that bearing is a smoking, that I cannot hide.
Now with the baler shut down, maybe I can get some rest,
Maybe I should call the mechanic, at fixing things he’s the best.
But then the wife reminds me of the bill I’d have to pay,
Who on earth is worth 65 an hour, that I hear her say.
So down to the shop I go, with water bottle in hand,
Down to do a job, a job I really cannot stand.
My knuckles now are bleeding, my shirt is filled with dust,
But I will get the baler running, that is a certain must.
It is so much fun, spending all my time in this way,
And there you have it all, my reasons for loving to hay.
Scott Wiley 2005
