Think about the last time you were
determined. Truly, deeply, determined. People probably thought you looked crazy! Pushing on despite the odds. Frowning,
sleep-deprived, and busy, you endured. Remember that time? Maybe not…
Was your determination a matter of life
and death? Was someone depending on you in dire circumstances? Maybe it was
something you had set out to do and had an audience cheering you on. Or was it
something deep within your heart; your own desire to achieve?
When your first attempt may have
failed, did you try again? Or did you give
up and chalk it up to, "not meant to be"? If you fell short of
your goal, were you still proud of your progress? Did you learn from the
experience and formulate a Plan B? And
if you succeeded, do you know you could
have done more?
Hard work is rewarding, and
determination is the link that gets a person from working hard to the reward.
Determination seethes out the pores of every farmer putting everything
into the field, but few stop to think about the strength of character it takes
to get a harvest off of the field. Grain farmers cut and dump as they go
in a seamless, efficient fashion. Farmers of produce and baled forage
have a different, longer story.
Background
A standard sprinkler of 120 acres takes
approximately one week to cut it down, bale it up, and haul it in, assuming ideal
weather prevails. It is no secret that farming is not a 9-to-5 profession
and takes more than a standard 40 hours on Monday through Friday. Alfalfa
and grass farmers have perhaps the most enduring schedule during harvest as it
is 3 to 4 times per summer as opposed to a single fall harvest of wheat, corn,
soybeans, potatoes, or sunflowers that get to keep growing all summer long.
This very patient and perseverant
person carefully watches the weather to begin the first harvest. Looking for a 7-10 day window of sunshine, we
are still restricted by dewpoint during bailing. It can’t be too humid or too dry, so the
farmers wait for sunset and sunrise, sleeping only a few hours in between.
And even once all the alfalfa is carefully put into perfectly
moisture-tested bales, they still need to be hauled in off the field as quickly
as possible in order to resume watering on new growth coming in around the
bales. Should the selfish farmer want a nap in the afternoon, rain will
surely take advantage of the situation, literally raining on the parade.
Instead, with another cup of coffee and a splash of water on the face, bales
get warily but stubbornly dragged in from the field and to the stack, where the
job still is not complete.
A week later, friends and family have
wondered what has happened to this family who have not answered phone calls,
paid bills, or even checked the mail. The field is clear, the water is
on, and there hasn't been the hollering of a tractor waking the neighbors in
the night. How could they still be working? Unless these bales are being housed
in the barn, there is one final chore. Tarping.
No, it is not a real word, but it is pronounced as “tarp” – “ing,” used
as a verb, and means the act of putting on a tarp.
The fact that the word tarping is not a
real word is a slap in the face to anyone who has ever engaged in this
hellacious activity that only a crazy person can justify doing on little sleep
and with fatigued muscles.
- · The danger involved in hauling 100 pounds of tarp thrown over the shoulder like Santa carrying his pack but climbing a ladder up a 17 foot haystack;
- · the exhaustion caused by careful steps on the uneven, corrugated surface of hay bales atop the stack, carrying 75lbs small bales, one by one to create a ridge;
- · the battle against even the slightest breeze that turns a tarp into an angry, billowing wind-sail capable of tossing a 200lb person to the ground;
- · and the 9 feet of bailing twine used to tie the tarp down turns into a whipping and slapping lacerator
- are all reasons that people should revere the word tarping and the farmer who does it with as much dignity as a soldier, teacher, doctor, nurse, fireman, policeman, or pastor, and not as a lunatic without reason completing the task. The determination to get it done trumps all.
All in Vain
Like all parts of being a hay farmer,
being a hay-houser requires just as much determination to get hay covered as
quickly as possible in order to keep them green and dry, protected from the sun
and rain.
After a few hours spent tarping, with a
sore back from moving bales, a forehead encrusted with sweat and alfalfa dust,
and shredded fingertips from tying twine, the farmer steps back to take a look,
yet still knows the efforts, though insistent, are almost nearly in vain.
The tarp is no match for one resolute
hailstorm, or several days of wind and rain. After being so intently set, the
tarp gives up on its only duty, gets thin, cracks, or develops little holes. Meanwhile, the twine frays or pulls grommets
right out of the tarp, exposing edges and the top of the stack. Should rainwater penetrate through any of
those opportunities, it works it's magic like a petri dish in an incubator
growing mold on the once pristine hay.
The tarp then becomes as detrimental to the hay as it once was
protective of it, and all our efforts appear without purpose.
Once the storms have passed, the farmers,
looking like escaped asylum patients, return to the haystack, remove the tattered
tarp, and let the sun do it's drying work on the damp bales. With another round
of steadfast determination, they re-cover the stack with yet another tarp or
two, only to repeat the process again in the fall.
They say the definition of insanity is
repeating the same action over and over but expecting a different outcome. Tarping hay might look insane, feels insane
during the process, but the adjective to apply it's not “insanity” but “determination,”
and in a society full of instant gratification and entitlement, determination
might look like insanity simply because it is not currently the norm; however,
determination to complete the goal first attempted eventually ends in failure
every time, but that is no matter. We
depend on the hay for our life and livelihood and feeding livestock who depend
on us for sustenance. Our desire to
remain unfaltering in the circumstances and repeating as often as possible is
still a source of pride and a measure of success—all made possible by inherent
determination.
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