When it’s going right, farming can be one of the most pleasurable jobs in the world. This is especially the case since the turn of the weekend.
Blue skies, the sun beating down, calves gone to grass, a gentle breeze. It’s a scene that makes me want to sit on the ditch, take in the view and be grateful that I get to do this job. It was a far cry from the end of last week.
Since last Monday, the farm and myself have suffered from what could be best described as an unmerciful dose of Murphy’s law. It wasn’t just a case of anything that can go wrong will go wrong, either. It became a case of stuff you wouldn’t expect to go wrong, going wrong.
I let a bunch of heifers out Thursday morning. I wasn’t 10 minutes at home when I got a call to say they were out on the road. The same thing happened with a different bunch on Monday. The wire carrying the power from the fencer to the fence just packed in. Unexpected jobs had meant the work I had planned for Monday got shoved to Thursday.
Running out of diesel
I found myself so addled trying to sort one problem that it would lead to another developing.
The tractor running out of diesel and getting badly airlocked being a case in point. I took the tractor to the young-stock yard knowing the fuel gauge was low but I had enough diesel to do what I had to do there and get home for a refill. What I didn’t take into account was the fact I was so mixed up trying to prioritise what to do that I ended up doing extra tractor work because I had the bucket on. I then drove out to do a bit of fencing and crossing a hill the fuel went below the outlet in the tank and I was stranded.
I had no joy getting it going after I refilled it with diesel so had no choice but to abandon it for the evening. As I was away for the next day I got all the non-tractor jobs complete.
Knackered, I went to bed early. I woke at 1am to find a calf I had been treating for the week in a bad way and unfortunately I was unable to help it.
Most of Friday morning was spent leaning over the front wheel of the tractor using the hand fuel pump to try to sort the airlocked fuel system while being hit by spitting rain from a strong cold southwesterly.
The contractor was going above and beyond duty by giving me a hand but we both just ended up laughing at how nothing was going to plan.
Turbo
Dad rang to say he’d call out and cover me for a few jobs but when I called him for an update around half one he told me the turbo had gone in his car and it was out of action for a few days. What were the chances?
Once things start going wrong on a farm and then continue to go that way, it becomes one of the loneliest, most frustrating jobs one could imagine. Throw lack of sleep in the mix and it was a test of my resolve. It just felt like I couldn’t catch a lucky break.
All is under control now and I’m grateful for the support I got. It’s something that is underestimated in what is becoming an increasingly isolated occupation.