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Sometimes I become weary with the fact that tillage work is so weather-dependent. Yes, I know all farmers are at the mercy of the weather, but I think tillage farming is the most weather-dependent occupation known to man.
People talk about sea fishermen being at the mercy of the weather, and they certainly are, but you can still fish in the rain. Neither is it ever too wet to fish.
But if you have to switch on the tractor’s wiper in the field, that’s it, time to head for home. There’s no fieldwork you can do with the wiper on.
Perhaps ideally a tillage farmer would be a very patient soul and one who was able to take a philosophical and relaxed view on bad weather interruptions. But, ironically, he (or she) wouldn’t make a good tillage farmer. You have to remain continually on jittery standby awaiting any opportunities, in case you get caught with your trousers down.
Is climate change making farming more difficult? Not a whit. It’s nothing to do with it. There have always been prolonged and difficult seasons.
In 1947, the weather was extraordinarily difficult, with feet of snow and lakes frozen solid. There was no spring that year. It was May when the snow cleared. Though the way this spring is shaping up, it mightn’t be too far behind.
No, tillage farming in Ireland was never for the faint-hearted. But with our sheds stuffed with fertiliser and seed and wet ground conditions, it’s difficult to take a pragmatic view.
The fertiliser for the entire season is now in store, the nitrogen of which was delivered last October. I’m sticking with granular nitrogen. I think it’s a superior product to liquid N. I evaluated liquid N before and nothing has changed – it’s still prone to scorch and sprayer corrosion. Besides, you know exactly what you have in stock with big-bagged N and in our climate there’s never an issue with getting it washed in.
We had a short and welcome break down the country staying in the opulent Castle Durrow Hotel, a (big) wedding anniversary present from the children.
The weather wasn’t good, with heavy rainfall – if it was fine, I would have been edgy – with a lot of water lying on the fields but it’s a lovely part of the world. The farmers in the adjoining counties of Laois, Carlow and Kilkenny keep the countryside looking very tidy, productive and well-manicured.
I was struck by the amount of milk tankers on the Kilkenny roads; practically every other truck was one. The reason for this soon became apparent as we passed the massive Glanbia plant in Ballyraggett. I was blown away by the sheer size of it and googled it to learn that it’s capable of processing a billion litres of milk annually.
Between the good land, nice farms and a hugely integrated dairy industry I left with very positive feelings for dairy farming down in the southeast.
Yes, I know most dairy farmers are whinging about milk price cuts but that’s what they do. Milking is secondary. But one must fervently hope that a potentially hard Brexit won’t tear the heart out of cheese and dairy exports to the UK.
Now I have to rush. It’s snowing outside and I can hear water dripping down in the room next door.
Such are the joys of having a kitchen in an ancient building which has more in common with Newgrange than the 21st century. Good job Mrs P is easy-going or I’d never have got to 30 years.
Farmer Writes: 3c/l milk price cut is a hand grenade for stressed farmers
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