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A farming friend has some quirky expressions to describe our climate, and I’ve often heard him say, “Two weeks of weather is enough in this country”.
This seemingly nonsensical statement is actually a little pearl of wisdom, and nicely sums up the problems arising from prolonged periods of dry, wet, cold, windy, or frosty conditions. It has particular resonance in the past few months, because the continuous cold and wet weather in early spring suddenly disappeared, and this part of Co Down hasn’t seen rain (at time of writing) for over a month.
The most visible casualty of this transformation are fields of spring barley which were ploughed and cultivated before being properly ready, and the upshot now is that some crops seem to have bypassed the tillering stage and have gone straight to flag leaf and ear emergence.
Even the most optimistic agronomists are talking about a tonne to the acre.
In contrast, I sprayed 20 acres last week of free-draining land that was following vegetables, and it was nothing short of spectacular.
A difficult season like this one highlights the difference between proper arable soil, and second-grade land. My own farm does not slot into the top category, and if I want to grow top-yielding fields of cereal, then weather conditions must lean my way to a large degree.
Silage
The other victim of this unusual climate has been silage yields, with most farmers reporting light first cuts. My situation has been more exaggerated, and I seem to have fallen perfectly between two stools.
At the age of 55, it still amazes me that the best laid plans for the year ahead can be turned upside down in the space of a few short weeks. Originally, the script said that I would close off fields for silage without grazing them in early spring.
This would result in high-digestibility grass being harvested in early May, followed by oceans of juicy aftergrass for weaned lambs. The reality has been a sobering experience, and a lesson in how not to manage grass.
Sheep and lambs weren’t taken off any silage areas before 3 May, and one field wasn’t vacated until 12 May. Varying amounts of fertiliser was applied (from 50 to 80 units N), and at this stage I knew that grass would begin to head before the swards had fully bulked.
Nonetheless, I wasn’t prepared for one showery evening (about 10mm rain) being the sum total for water.
In early June, seed heads began to appear but without the expected grassy bottom in the fields, so the diary was consulted to see if any fields had sufficient nitrogen utilised to enable mowing.
I mowed 10 acres on 6 June (these areas had received the lower amounts of nitrogen), reasoning that decent quality was more important than waiting for bulk. In reality, the wonderful sunny weather seemed too good to waste, and one run through the wuffler saw us baling swards that smelt of hay fields from yesteryear.
Yields were even lower than anticipated at five bales per acre. I knew it wasn’t looking good, because when I phoned the mower man to see how he was getting on, he answered with, “Killinchy Lawn Services, how may we help you?”. He thought this was hilarious; I was a bit less amused.
At the time of writing (8 June), the rest of the silage ground is waiting for more of the nitrogen to be used up, and if no rain appears soon, then it may also turn out to be disappointingly light.
After that, it’ll be another session with the pen and paper to see how far short we are in total fodder supply. Beyond that, it will be a balancing act between shutting off fields for another cut, and the requirements of weaned lambs, fattening bullocks, and the dairy heifers. And if this drought continues, then I’ll resort to what I’m best at: blind panic.
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