"Hi Ann. Is Bob there?" "No he's not. He's in the hay."
This is a common phone conversation these days in Ozark County. Hay is being cut. Balers are working overtime. And everyone who can is hauling hay.
What a difference from last year. I traveled to central Missouri in mid-May of 2012. I couldn't believe what I saw. Cattle were shoulder-deep in grass. And the drying hay laid in thick windrows in the fields. How I wish I could have transported that wonderful harvest south to our friends down here. It rained in March of last year. And that was it. April turned off dry...and hot. And that was that.
This year is better. A neighbor cut our hay. Since we don't have any animals or livestock to feed we did it on the halves. Win, win situation.
Where I was raised in central Illinois hay was not a big crop. Corn, soybeans, maybe a little bit of milo. The family farmer might put up some hay for the horses and a few cows, but cropland up there is too valuable to leave to hay. It wasn't until I moved to southern Missouri that I became aware of just how much farmers depend on their pastures. Andy worked for several neighbors putting up hay in our first years down here. Hard work. Round bales were not at all common then and there was a lot of stacking and restacking when you got to the barn. Tired men. Tiring work. And always it seemed as if something broke down and someone had to run to town for a part or to fetch someone who could repair a machine. Or find one to borrow.
My grandfather owned a section of land in Illinois at the turn of the last century. And he raised oats and corn. Farming was so different back then. My mom said that he wouldn't let them ride the horses that lived in the big barn. The animals were for work, not pleasure. And in the fall he would hire out to the neighbors and take his threshing crew and do custom work getting the crop in. Different kind of farming. But still hard work.
Today's farmer doesn't have it any easier. Even though the machinery looks streamlined and slick, long hours and days are spent in the fields gleaning the crop and cutting hay for the animals.
So when I see a friend on his tractor, out working early in the morning until late at night, I say a silent prayer of thanks. Without them, where would we be? Thank you all, for 'being in the hay'.
