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It’s nice when any field of cereal has been planted at the correct time, with seeds sown into a lovely fine tilth, and all within part of a healthy crop rotation.
I can then write about it, and the words flow like dried barley out of a trailer. I tend to eulogise about high potential yield, the importance of doing the job properly, and I can drop broad hints that I really am on top of my game. By contrast, this year’s spring barley has ticked every undesirable box, and I have no idea how to put any sort of positive spin on what could turn into a costly debacle.
My spring barley area was ploughed late and damp, sown even later, and apart from the greatly reduced yield potential, even getting it harvested may prove a challenge too far (depending on the type of autumn weather).
I remember writing a harvest report a few years ago, when one field of barley (spring variety Propino) had weighed 3.25t per acre at 16% moisture. I was almost squeaking with excitement in my anticipation of letting the world know how well the field had performed.
And in complete contrast, this season’s crop cannot have a yield potential of much more than 1.5t to the acre.
The one factor that made me keen to stick with the plan is my fear (I have loads of this nowadays) that straw is going to be as scarce as hens’ teeth, never mind the enormous price that may accompany this dearth.
Patient
I didn’t see much point in ploughing land that was wet and sticky, only to watch it dry out like concrete, so I tried to be patient.
To satisfy that arable itch, I delayed proceedings by spending two afternoons covering it with poultry litter.
This had a reasonable effect, and ploughing took place on 2 May. Conditions were acceptable; it didn’t slap over like half doors, but nor was it particularly friable either. Given the type of spring it has been, I was fairly happy.
A soil test showed a pH of 6.0, and indexes of 3 for both phosphorus and potassium, so 1t per acre of lime was spread.
After another delay due to more rain, we finally gave it a rip with the grubber on 14 May, and sowing took place the next day.
With the benefit of hindsight, it should have received a run of a power harrow before being single-passed, but I thought it looked alright after the grubber had opened it up. However, after being rolled with a Cambridge roller, the seedbed is adequate, although far from perfect.
Pass
As one of my farming colleagues commented (using an academic analogy), it’s a year to forget about A* results; we’ll just aim for a pass. The trouble is, I am fearful that this field runs the risk of failing miserably.
The variety was Wylanda (no, I’d never heard of it either), and it was sown at 11 stone per acre. Fertiliser was broadcast on to the grubbed face, and worked in during drilling. Just over three bags per acre of 20:10:10 was applied, so the biggest remaining dilemma is whether we are at the upper limit of available nitrogen, and perhaps it would be prudent to wait and see before adding any more power. My father always warned me about overdoing the nitrogen on late-sown spring barley, due to the soft, lush nature of the crop canopy.
As for disease control, the susceptibility of late barley will have to be balanced against low yield potential, and spending adjusted accordingly.
Results
Looking further ahead, I have a three-way choice in how I report the financial results for my barley. Firstly, I can give it the full benchmark treatment, where all costs are considered, including a proportion of farm running costs. This is unlikely to hold much appeal.
Secondly, I can work out a gross margin. This would mean adding up all field operations, as well as inputs such as fertiliser, seed, lime and sprays. This option holds limited appeal, especially if yield is poor.
The third option is becoming more attractive by the minute, and this is the ‘‘farmer’s profit report’’, beloved of so many growers around the country.
This is the art of being suitably vague about actual yields, with the added possibility of a bit of embellishment here and there. Phrases such as, “I don’t know where the yield came from”, and “Now, it did far better than I could have hoped” are the order of the day, and if these utterances are said with a suitable amount of conviction, they can be quite believable.
Perhaps the months ahead will be unusually warm, with an extended spell of glorious weather right into October, and late-filled heads of barley may defy all logic by yielding impossibly well.
There’s no harm in dreaming, is there?
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