Farmer Nancy

Nancy, a gentlewoman farmer, beloved friend of Jane, and amazing animal rescuer/healer who has turned her farm into a haven for lost and unwanted dogs, cats, and horses, splits her time between her husband’s Republican farm in Rocky Mount, NC and her Democratic one in Hillsborough, NC.  She routinely hustles 6 dogs and 4 cats back and forth with her and has been known to include a chicken in the front seat.

 First of all, I’ve been chasing rabbits.  No, I’m not speaking in the voice of my awesome rabbit dog Loretta (that’s another story!).  I’ve been cutting hay, and although it has been years since I read Watership Down, I think I’ve become the villain.  These are baby rabbits, three of them.  They always want to run into the grass, the grass that will get cut on the next pass, so I get off the tractor to shoo them across the windrows, preferably into the woods.  Two cooperate, but the third runs under the tractor, right up against the tire, waiting to be flattened.  When I try to get him from the outside of the tractor, he scurries up even closer to the tire.  I have to grab him and then quickly release him, into the direction I want.

The front of the Hay Baler

 Baby rabbits are fragile, and any handling can kill them.  As I get back on the tractor, I think of the large copperhead I hit a couple of years ago.  After that I wore boots to mow in for a while, but I’d forgotten about that this day.  So I have tennis shoes on.  The next time I see movement in the grass, I think I’ll just leave that row and go to another part of the field.

Nancy with the Hay Baler

 Whenever I start to mow, I say a little prayer of sorts–for all the mammals, reptiles, and other living things to leave the field.  Like that’s going to happen!   But when I can, I try to avoid those little creatures.  It helps only a little to think about the food chain–and that what I hit will feed the red tail hawk who sometimes shadows me or the turkey vultures or the fox–or the coyote.  Yes, coyote.  I’ve only seen them once.  I was absolutely stunned when two nonchalantly trotted across the field in front of me.  Once, late at night, I heard what could only be a pack singing hauntingly.  It was thrilling. 

Back to cutting hay… we’re not bona fide farmers.  My husband is a radiologist, and this is his “hobby.”   The trouble with hay is that it is always on its own schedule, which usually doesn’t fit my husband’s vacation schedule.   Every year, I point out to him how much we spend on fertilizer and how we could buy hay to feed our animals,  but I also know he’s right when he says that, when  you grow it yourself, you know the quality both in the grass and in the process. 

 Here’s the thing:  you don’t just decide to cut hay.  You wait for it to seed up, as most of the protein is in the seed head, and you also have to catch a moment of opportunity in the weather, at least 4 clear days, to do it.  Some springs, that moment only comes once.  If you miss it, the hay keeps on growing, getting stem-ier and eventually dropping the seed.  I usually check 4 or 5 weather sites before deciding when to cut.  And on those 4 days, it helps if there is a little wind–and heat, too.

 This year, my husband was on vacation for hay cutting time, and I thought, boy, this is going to be great (He was upset because he wanted to go to the beach.)!  We cut on a Wednesday.  The weather was supposed to be clear through the weekend.  I cut 4 of 6 fields while he teddered, which means flipping the hay over and spreading it out to dry faster.  The next day, “they” changed the forecast, so I couldn’t cut anymore.  The hay looked dry on Friday, so we raked it, and I started baling.  I’d done one field when I noticed that the first bale in the second field, when observed closely, had way too much green in it.  Anyone who has watched “The Amazing Race,” will know what we did had to do next:  cut the strings and roll out all the bales.  The tractor helped, but it was still a pain, and once it was rolled out, it had to be teddered again. 

 The next day, we got 3 fields baled, and my husband proudly raked the 4^th field to leave it overnight–which turned out to be a bad idea, since the weather forecast changed again, too late to cut the remaining fields.  The next day, we beat the hell out of that last field.  He teddered it twice, raked it again.  My old Ford  tractor started giving me trouble, but somehow we got through it and got 39 round bales total.  His vacation was over;  we were worn out and sore.  (The jarring does a number on your body.)   He was too tired to drive the trailer back to our other farm in Rocky Mount that night, so he left on Sunday, and I stayed behind to make sure the bales weren’t heating up on Monday.  That’s important because we shelter the hay so that it will be horse quality.  We’ve got 28 horses (another story),  so we need a lot of hay.  I got back to Rocky Mount on Monday, and the weather changed, so Tuesday, I drove back here and cut the last two fields today.  Hopefully I can get it dry by Friday.  If not, I’ll be baling by myself on Saturday because my husband’s on call.   Just hope the weather doesn’t change again.

Fresh cut hay

My husband says next year, no matter what, we’re taking a real vacation and going to the beach.

By the way, here’s a picture of me, relaxing in the tub after a long day.

Related posts:

1. Oops 50: Check-in from Farmer Nancy: Emmy and Otis
2. Farmer Nancy on Aging Horses
3. Oops50: Farmer Nancy Shares a Pet Peeve
4. Beautiful Women Over 50: Barb and Gwendie’s Excellent Hot Air Balloon Ride
5. Beautiful Women over 50: Gwendie’s Postsecret

Tags: Beautiful Women >50, cutting hay, farming, women over 50

This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 11th, 2010 at 10:53 am and is filed under Beautiful Women >50, Gardening, Jobs, Main. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.