A week on the ranch

Ever wonder why those crusty old ranchers you see coming into town are so, well, crusty? I spent last week at the family ranch – during the height of haying season – and I think I’m a little crustier than when I left. Here’s Bill’s Excellent Adventure at the Ranch.

Day 1. Arrive. Talk about BSE and the possibility of no markets in the fall. Talk about the drought. Talk about hay crops about 55 per cent of normal. It’s a serious issue that may put ranches under. Turn some cut hay. Return fuel line on tractor breaks. Fix it with a piece of plastic hose and some haywire (hence the haywire outfit moniker).

Day 2. Thermometer hits 30 degrees Celsius. Talk about drought and BSE. Check the cows on the range. Toss out a couple of blocks of salt for the cows, the deer, the elk, and whoever else may be passing by.

Turn some more hay. Tiny rubber T-shaped fitting on the fuel line breaks. Have visions of driving 90 miles to nearest John Deere dealership for $2 fitting. Luck shines. The old man has not one, but two, extras. First one splits in half when putting it on. Burn arm on exhaust pipe trying to put fitting on. Second one works. Make a round-and-a-half and second fitting goes.

Make trip to auto parts store. They don’t have a fitting, but fashion one out of brass. Burn arm on exhaust pipe putting brass fitting on. Works just fine. Starting to like the smell of diesel, but undecided on its value as a hair gel.

Day 3. Flat tire on the baler. “Those damn thorns,” says the old man. Make a trip to the auto parts store. Get tire fixed. Make a round-and-a-half with baler and roller breaks. Four mechanically-inclined ranchers can’t figure what the roller does, but baler won’t work without it. Temperature hits 31 degrees Celsius.

Day 4. Flat tire on the tractor. “Those damn thorns,” says the old man. Make trip to auto parts store. Radiator hose blows on other tractor. Make trip to auto parts store. Starting to think I should have stayed with the guy at the auto parts store. Seeing more of him than my family. Baler part has to be shipped from Saskatoon. Will take two days. Fifty tons of hay cut and burning in the heat. Talk to neighbour. “Remember when your tractor broke down last winter and we used our tractor to feed your cows?” Borrow neighbour’s baler. Thirty-two degrees Celsius. Not a cloud in sight.

Day 5. Thirty-three degrees – at dawn. Ol’ Sol laughing at copious amounts of sun block. Hand-stack bales in top of barn. Given up using striker to light matches. Roof of mouth works just fine. Treat ourselves to supper at the local pizzeria. Run into group of Hell’s Angels.

They give us a wide berth. Perhaps they saw my brother lift up front of tractor with one hand and change tire with the other, or perhaps they saw hired hand get rid of thorn bushes with his bare hands, or perhaps they heard me invent a few new swear words. Most likely that even though they were riding hogs, we probably smelled like hogs.

Day 6. Thirty-four degrees. Learn I can drink five bottles of water, one right after the other. Don’t need to use grinder to sharpen knife on haybine. Calloused hands do the trick.

Day 7. Thirty-five degrees Celsius. Brother puts bale wagon through plank-bridge built over small creek.

Amazingly only one bale ends up in the water. Brother reminded that he was reminded several times fix the planks on the bridge.

Load bales from bale wagon incident onto pickup truck to take to barn. Thirty-six degrees. Pop clutch crossing highway with load of bales. Load bales onto pickup truck to take to barn, while dodging traffic.

Wonder where the week went and why I didn’t take two weeks holidays.