Here we are the middle of November and no snow yet. I like it! I like it! We have had snow all around us. To the east, to the north, to the west and to the south, yet here we are almost an oasis of no snow. I don鈥檛 mind it at all. It seems like it is really winter when the snow comes. We know it鈥檚 inevitable sooner or later we are going to have snow and winter. Just keep your snow a little longer, Big Guy. There is no hurry.
On the Hult farm, not much is happening. There is still one baler running in the hills. There would still be two days work if he keeps going. You don鈥檛 bale many acres in a day. They are hauling the silage bales back to Kitscoty. The fella told me today they were planning to come Tuesday with three semis to take some loads out. I see Irvine鈥檚 tractor and loader sitting there. He has about half his bales hauled. If the guys keep at it and don鈥檛 let the hills spook them, they will get done, hopefully before the weather changes to the white stuff.
It's been quiet down in the hills. The only thing moving was the guy that is baling. I never saw any deer, moose or coyotes. The only animal I saw was a giant eagle sitting on a fence post on a hill. He is still fairly young since he is still all black. Bald eagles don鈥檛 get a white head until they are more than a year old. I don鈥檛 know where they go for the winter, but the only birds I see hanging around are sparrows, magpies and ravens.
Son Ron has a patch and a couple of small swaths to bale on his green feed project. I think he is bummed out because a couple more belts on the baler have broken. These are original belts and the baler has 27,000 bales on it. Baling green feed when it is not in perfect conditions is tough on a baler and I suspect he will have to purchase new belts. Drive chains and pickup teeth will go and roller bearings also, but these are much smaller expenses than buying baler belts. It is like making the first payment on a new baler.
Gerry, the bale-hauler man, went out one day to get Roland鈥檚 bales and promptly got stuck. Just what we didn鈥檛 need, a truck stuck in the field. Son Ron had to go over with the tractor and pull him out. The field is drier now and I hope he comes home soon. Sometimes winter arrives with a vengeance and believe me nobody wants to see the bales in the field in the spring.
In politics our new minister of agriculture is Lawrence MacAuley from Prince Edward Island. He is a long-time serving Liberal. Years ago he was a potato farmer and seed grower. I am not impressed. I know potatoes are important to have on my plate whenever I have a meal. I know very little about growing potatoes. I was conscripted into the potato planting and potato harvesting army when I was a young and growing up. I also had to lead the horse as my father hilled the potatoes. I hated that job. The horse always tried to step on my feet, he slobbered and he sweated. My grandmother would sit in the shade slicing the potatoes making sure there were three eyes in each piece. I was conscripted into helping her cut the potatoes before they were seeded. That only happened if Arthur had a large enough crew out there seeding. He had a three-furrow plow that he claimed was the perfect spacing for the rows so he could use his horse-drawn hiller. You had to walk along and every foot you would plant the potato pieces and his instructions were to drop it into the furrow and then with your foot, push it into the freshly plowed dirt.
In the fall we would dig the potatoes by hand, which resulted in some potatoes getting stabbed. To my dad this was bad, bad, bad. Later on Arthur used a 12-foot cultivator with spikes on that he pulled with his tractor. After we took the tops off, we would use the cultivator, which would roll the spuds out on top of the ground. We then picked them by hand and put them into five-gallon pails. Arthur had 50 to a 100 five-gallon pails. We sometimes would have to cultivate three or four times. Once we had them in the pails we loaded them into his Chev half ton and hauled them to the basement. That is what I know about growing potatoes but I will bet I know an awful lot more about growing potatoes than MacAuley knows about growing wheat or canola.
When Pierre gave the West the finger, we knew where we stood. Now Justin has given us Lawrence. Enough said.
Joke of the week: Three bulls decided to leave the home pasture and go off into the world to make their fortune. There was a really big bull, a middle sized bull and a smaller bull. The day was hot and they walked and walked. Soon they were hot and really thirsty. They had to keep walking, so they walked and walked. By now they were really hot and thirsty. Finally they came to this nice little valley, lots of green grass and a stream running through it. There was a nice herd of cows grazing grass.
The two smaller bulls were just about to have a drink of water when the large bull turned on them, bunting them in the ribs. 鈥淵ou guys get lost,鈥� he said. 鈥淭his is my water, this is my grass and those are my cows.鈥�
So the two smaller bulls got back on the road and on they walked. They walked and walked. They were really hot and thirsty now. Finally they came to another valley with lots of green grass, a stream running through it and a nice herd of cows. The middle-sized bull turned to the little bull and said, 鈥淕et lost. These are my cows, that鈥檚 my water and my grass.鈥� With that he bunted the little bull in the ribs.
So the little bull trudged down the road, he was really hot and thirsty and his ribs hurt. He walked and walked and walked. Finally he came to another valley with green grass, a little creek running through it and a nice herd of cows and he stopped there and lived happily ever after.
The moral of this story is sometimes a little bull goes a loooong way.
As Uncle Harold used to say, ooooh boy!
