Blog & Mailing List Sign-up
<< Back to main

Rain, Rain, go away....

Posted 6/20/2018 5:34pm by Kinley Coulter.

     Spring is winding up, and summer officially begins tomorrow... the soil here at Coulter Farms is still gulping down vast quantities of 'April Showers.'  The cold wet spring has stretched itself into the bottom half of June, and we are trying to adjust.  'April Showers' make for a tremendous hay crop in May... but the showers lasted right through May and into June.  We need to make a total of 200 acres of first cutting hay, and we desperately need three sunny days in a row (four would be nice) to do a 50 acre chunk of it.  In case you haven't noticed... stretches of sunny weather have been hard to come by.  We rushed and scrimped and pushed and cheated and finagled and managed to just barely get 150 acres of hay made. 

 

     One problem with having wet weather (that pushes the May haymaking into June) is that the grass matures out of its valuable, sweet, leafy stage into tall, stemmy grass, producing hay that milk cows just stare at an bawl... moo... Moo...MOO!... MOOOOOO!!!   40 Jersey cows refusing to eat.  Just like a herd of petulant 3 year olds loudly declaring their anger at the despicable farmer who had enough nerve to put such pathetic grass in front of them and call it 'dairy cattle feed'... what a distressing sight... especially when the farmer is hard up for some high milk production to satisfy hungry customers.  
 
 
If you want to experience what dairy cows experience trying to eat stemmy, over-mature hay, try eating nothing but old, tough, dried out celery for a whole week... spitting out the 95% of it that is too tough to swallow, grimacing and gagging on the trickle of bitter celery juice that runs down the back of your throat... and then try to do heavy, hard work with the energy you gain from that celery.  No wonder over-mature grass cuts milk production and sours the mood of the dairy herd!  (Disclaimer... I don't even like 'good' celery... if there ever was such a thing... Yuck!  The best part about growing up and moving out of my parents' home was never, ever, for the past 38 years,  having to eat even a single bite of the stuff.  YAY!) 

 

     The weatherman had forecast a precious five days of sun in a row this past weekend so we confidently mowed the last 50 acres.  It could have been baled Saturday, but we were busy rejoicing at my son's wedding that day (although I did do some baling and raking Saturday after the wedding :).  

 

     Anyway, all should have been well through Monday, and we were happily baling hay Monday afternoon in the cheery sunshine with a soaring confidence inspired by that morning's '0% Chance of Rain' forecast...
 
 
     We were down to the last 100, or so, round bales when... disaster!  'Oh the humanity!'  Out of nowhere comes a 30 minute downpour... all of that beautiful, crispy, fragrant, precious, dry,  green hay was saturated with rain.   Not to be outdone by a little rain, we gave it a few hours in the returning sunshine, fluffed and raked hay again and started baling... but we were snake bitten again... this time by darkness.  The dew settled and the sweet crispiness of the hay was gone, again.  That was a disappointing Monday, to say the least.  Tuesday?  Heavy Rain!  Wednesday?  Heavy Rain!  Tomorrow (Thursday) is forecast to have some sun.  
 
 
     We may be able to just barely get the hay baled up before the next 3 days of forecast rain.  It won't be dried enough which means the bales will heat and spoil.  It's not any great loss at this point... the rain has already washed the precious sugars and other soluble nutrients out of the hay and the decomposition process (mold) has begun its ugly work.  Success, now, will be getting the slimy, musty hay out of the field so the second cutting can start growing. 

 

     Oh well, if it was easy, everyone would be doing it.   We can still chop up the bales for fluffy, warm, organic bedding for the cows when the depressing, incessant rain of June turns into the howling wind, and bitter cold of January.  There's no great loss without some small gain.  We usually have to spend a lot of money for bedding in the winter... now the rain has created 50 tons of 'free' bedding for us.  It's enough to make a disgruntled farmer feel rich!