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It’s Sunday evening and I’ve just laid down the last tire on the pit after a busy few days of silage.
I know most other farmers have had theirs done and dusted for weeks now, and the sense of relief in finishing is amazing.
It’s the same feeling you get if you complete a crossword or solve a Sudoku puzzle, except you’re covered head to toe in crap and your clothes can stand up by themselves from the sweat.
I keep telling myself it’s worth doing our own silage; forgetting all the stress, lack of sleep and build up to this point.
Wondering every day: will the weather be alright? Will the machines work? Will we get the lads we need to pull off the job? And maybe most importantly: will we have someone to fuel us all?
Everyone knows the best and most important part of the silage is the silage feast. You have to let the lads know you appreciate their work.
Rare breed
We are a bit of a rare breed these days; doing our own silage. It ain’t for the faint hearted. It takes years to get the gear in the right order, and the right team to haul the silage in.
All of our tractors are Masseys (as they say, if it ain’t Massey, you’re not classy), though none of it would be top of the range by any means.
Our machines are roadworthy, with good lights and brakes. What else would you need? For air con, just open a window. When I think back to the machines we had in the past to bring in the silage, I know how far we have come.
No more buck raking with a Massey 50; here comes the JCB.
At the heart of the whole operation is the Mengele harvester. It’s a powerful machine – whips grass up like a hoover; chops like a shredder and fires it into the trailer like a flame thrower. It makes its own unique noise as it munches through the grass.
We are a bit of a rare breed these days; doing our own silage. It ain’t for the faint hearted
Almost like it's angrily eating – a kind of a gnarly chew; daring you to feed it more and more grass. You need to slow it down every time you come to a big piece, but it laughs at you and just keeps on munching.
We had many versions of harvesters over the years: single chops, double chops – and some that wouldn’t chop, making you spend every second load unblocking a shoot. Great fun in wet weather.
Honestly, I wouldn’t even think of doing our own silage were it not the highlight of my father’s year. He takes great pride in getting his machines in top order.
There is always some new modification he wants to try each year, or a different approach to getting silage in faster.
Machine whisperer
I often wonder if he was wasted as a farmer. He’s like the machine whisperer; he always knows where to find the root of any problem.
He always knows where to find spare parts (or someone that could make the parts). He takes joy in educating us all in the ‘ways of the Massey’.
Some might say the phrase “use the force” came from my father. In this sense, it usually involved a sledgehammer to straighten something out. Don’t worry, the only things ever hurt were pieces of iron.
Getting up the pit is a hard task. The sight of a JCB on top makes it look like the machine is defying gravity.
The father is stuck to the seat and has best view from the cockpit as the loads keep coming in. As the sun comes down, that last load arrives in. The weather has held and it’s all there now.
The father gives a weary smile. First cut done.
Don’t worry, we get to do it all again soon for second cut. The force is strong in these Masseys.
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