Working Ranch Blog
Jun. 20 2010, 10:52 PM
I don't know about you, but I've started on my ark already. I'm not gonna say I've heard a direct voice telling me to do so, but I can take a hint. This summer reminds me of 2004. That was the year I tried to go it on my own with a hay business. I think it quit raining that year about August. I didn't try and build an ark, but I could take a hint back then as well. That's how I ended up here at Tailgate. I've heard it said that when God closes a door He opens a window. That was true in '04, but I wonder what He's hinting at this time around?
I was talking to my friend Jeff the other night. Jeff is a cowboy poet and he wrote a little ditty called "20 Percent Chance of Flurries". I told him out of my frustration that he was gonna have to write another one about the rain instead of snow. You can probably guess why I was frustrated.
After a rainy weekend, last Monday looked pretty promising. It was drying out perty good and even though a (you guessed it) twenty percent chance of some thunderstorms was still in the forecast, most meteorologists, I heard anyway, said more than likely it was gonna stay north of us. So, in a foolish and desperate attempt to actually get a start on hay season, I rushed on over, grabbed the swather out of the barn, lubed it up, and after talking to Kirk to confirm my foolishness, I was a cutting!
Yeah, all was well here. I've often said that I'll believe 'em about Global Warming when they can accurately predict the weather on the same day.
The professionals say there are five stages of grief. The first is denial. I was at that stage when I decided to cut by telling myself that a twenty percent chance of showers is nothing to be concerned with and it's o.k. because the weatherman said so. The second is anger. Yeah, I'm sorry, but changing those percentages from 20 to 80 on the rain chances after it's started raining really doesn't count for much. Instead of penciling in the obvious percentage change, they oughta just write "Sorry about that".
The third stage is bargaining. This is where I constantly stare out the cab window hoping to divert the rain through my awesome mind power. Of course, that and desperate prayers go hand in hand. Now, I have to tell you that this did work once. I was mowing hay up on a ridge about a 1/2 mile behind my house. I could see the clouds forming, but still believed the forecast and not my eyes. A few drips hit the windshield, but my faith and my awesome mind power held fast and that sucker missed me by that much. My wife saw me cutting and phoned to let me know it was a downpour at the house. This time, however, I could almost here God saying, "Look dummy, stupid is as stupid does. You might as well shut her down. It ain't all about you. A twenty percent chance is still a chance."
The fourth is depression. This is where I fill my mind and yours with visions of putting up hay on Labor Day and writing out invitations to my pity party. Don't you feel my pain?
The fifth and final stage is acceptance. This is usually, and was, brought on by a call from the boss with the lastest update on the obvious forecast changes. This usually also invokes thoughts of the storm blowing by quick followed by five days of 90 degrees and sunshine. "Yeah, it'll be alright. This one will blow by quick and, after all, the hay's still green so it won't hurt it that much." That was last Tuesday. Don't worry though, I did get it raked on Saturday...that was...right before it rained...again. Is it weaning time yet?
How goes your hay operations? Tell me at thekansascowboy36@gmail.com. You can also friend me on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter.
