I used to be addicted to the television show 24 when it came out in the early 2000s. The storyline was always centred around a countdown to a big political event. In the first season, it was the potential assassination of the US president. The episodes were full of tension, cliffhangers and trepidation over a single day leading up to the event. To be honest, in recent weeks, I felt like I was going through my own season of 24. The only difference was, my big event was getting our first cut of silage done and covered.
You could call me the Jack Bauer of Irish farming (Bauer being 24’s main character – he was stressed off his head for the entire series). Now, normal farmers would just pick up the phone and hire a contractor to get the silage done. You already know we’re not normal farmers – we have to go through the whole thing ourselves.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the privilege of being able to do it ourselves, but the stress of the build-up is not good for my nerves. Especially this year, as I had a hard deadline to meet: a flight out of the country which I was “under no circumstances” missing, or I would be “assassinated”, just like the US president Jack Bauer was trying to save.
So just like in 24, in the beginning of this series, the main character (myself) is a jovial, fun-loving guy who works hard but is carefree in the knowledge that we always pull this silage thing off. That person slowly starts to fade away the closer we get to deadline day. There was just no sign that we were ready. I could hear the countdown clock in my head.
Like with any operation, preparedness is the key to success with silage. This means getting the gear oiled, repaired and safe to go out on the roads. You need a good run so you can discover things that need fixing as you restart machinery which hasn’t been used in months. There might be an abandoned bird’s nest in a harvester, or the electrics might be malfunctioning. These issues can start off small and then lead to other massive problems. Luckily, the father has his head on his shoulders and always knows who to talk to or what to do to get issues sorted quickly.
The next big thing is lining up what posh people might call ‘the staff’ but we call ‘friends and neighbours’. This is never usually a problem, we have the same few fellas helping us out every year. They probably know my fields and machinery better than I do, at this stage. I can never thank them enough for being able to just get stuck in. We cut silage later than other farms for many reasons, but the main one is to ensure we have their availability. It makes a huge difference to have someone experienced in the cab – not just for their ability to drive, but the care they bring to the machinery and the land. I’ve lost count of the amount of the times they just fixed things on the spot and kept us moving.
The Jack Bauer of farming would have no problem dealing with all of this. It’s his biggest, cruellest, most devious and unpredictable enemy which wreaks havoc on his mental state and causes him to increase his blood pressure medication: the weather forecast.
Like with any operation, preparedness is the key to success with silage. This means getting the gear oiled, repaired and safe to go out on the roads. You need a good run so you can discover things that need fixing as you restart machinery which hasn’t been used in months
Nothing causes more stress than the fear of a downpour while bringing in the silage. Could we manage rainy conditions? Sure. But it’s such a slog – the harvester chokes, the trailers skid in the yard as you unload, the visibility decreases and we’re all in terrible moods. It also messes up the quality of your harvest. I just want to avoid the rain, if I can. It’s an absolute headwreck looking at the various weather forecast apps as you try to line everything up.
At one stage, I had four apps open – all giving me different forecasts. I was praying incessantly to whatever weather gods might be out there – I even considered making a sacrifice. Entire families of Prague were dotted about the place. I know a child of Prague is for weddings, but this was my special day, damn it (#silagezilla).
In the end, readers, the Jack Bauer of Irish farming pulled it off. We always do. My wife rolled her eyes once we got the pit covered and asked me if all the stress was worth it. While, like any episode of 24, we had a bit of a cliffhanger, your man made the plane with no regrets.Stay tuned for the second cut.
Desperate Farmhusband: ‘I like to think I’m progressive – but I'm old fashioned'
Desperate Farmhusband: ‘meditating in the jeep felt silly – but it's great'