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I didn't bale up my hat, just my
measuring tape. |
September and October are busy months on the ranch. We're simultaneously finishing up hay season, weaning and vaccinating yearlings, shipping calves, feeding, preg checking and vaccinating our cows, and hopefully finding a second or two to buck hunt. So, when we can check one or more of those off the to-do list, there's reason to celebrate. My nephew, Gabe, has brought back my favorite end-of-hay-season tradition. You toss your ball cap into the baler as it's making the last bale of the year. You really have to remember to wear your least-favorite hat that day. When the calves get shipped out, we usually celebrate with a lunch in town and when we're finished working cows I usually pat myself on the back and pour a stiff bourbon, but that's just to ward off achy muscles.
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| Grizz is such a good helper |
This season, I finished cutting hay in early October. I usually like to finish in late September, but a little rain postponed the season, so I was eager to be done. On the last pass, in the last field, for the last day of 2022 cutting I noticed the header (the cutting part) of the swather was at a slight angle. It should be level with the ground and I thought that I might have a leaky header cylinder.
Who cares? I thought,
I'll just finish the field and drive to the shop and fix this mother later. Like, springtime later. I was done cutting for the year, so I gave a little whoop and started driving back to the shop. I noticed the right side of the header was sagging more and more, so I stopped to check it out. It wasn't a bad cylinder, it was a very large tire losing air quickly. I limped into the barn lot and did the walk of shame back to the shop. I even called my brother.
You won't believe what happened to me on the very last pass of the season. We chuckled and I was still on the phone with Greg as I got in my truck to head home. I was a little distracted, to say the least, and completely forgot I was pulling a stock trailer. As I drove out of my uncle's lot, I cut a corner a little (ok, a lot) too sharply, and completely wiped out a frost-free faucet and a gate post, from which the lag bolts shredded my trailer tire. I swore. Greg laughed. And in 15 minutes I capped off a season's worth of hay cutting with two flat tires and a geyser in my aunt's flower bed. I think that's a celebration tradition I'll try to skip next year.
