Wheat Harvest 2019

I fought the weeds and the weeds won

Sunny 84 degrees

Humidity 38%

Dew Point 56 degrees

Wind NE @ 11 mph
Forecast: Sunny. Highs mid to high 80s

♪I fought the weeds
            and the weeds won. ♪
Apologies to Sonny Curtis and The Crickets.
Still not sure if Sonny would have given the song to The Crickets if he hadn’t joined the band when Buddy Holly died. But….
            Buddy died.
            And Sonny joined.
Then the Bobby Fuller Four made the song popular (#175 on the Rolling Stone top 500 songs of all times). Ten years later The Clash gave it some edge. Forty-Three years after that i’m singing my rewritten cover of the song while riding the Marty-J over some weeds.         
Not bad for a B-side song.
            (Extra credit: Name The Crickets’ A-side song).
The Marty-J is gone. Stolen in Topeka.
            Stolen? Well that is another story.
We now have a Hustler. However, all of my formative years cutting grass at the Farm were riding a Marty-J.

Generally, when i’m out on the mower i have a weed-eater lying across the front deck. That way i can stop and get the weeds up next to the fenceposts, buildings, equipment tires, concrete foundations, cows.
Some of the milk cows insisted on lying around chewing their cud after milking. And no city-boy was going to make them move. Weed-eater or not.
The dairy cows are all gone. Except for Norman,
            the bull.
Norman is also not bothered by the weed-eater. If, however, i get too close,
            at least too close by his judgement,
 he’ll saunter off.  And often give me a look that clearly says my intrusion on his quiet time will have repercussions. At a time of his choosing. Usually when i’m least expecting it.
This year has been particularly fine for weeds. So, mowing and weed-eating is a frequent adventure. A skill i’m becoming pretty good at doing.
Not nearly as good as Bruce. Or at his speed.  
            Not many people are.
Of course, almost everyone at the Farm is faster on the mower than me.
I like to think that it is because they get more practice.  But there is a competing theory centering around my mental state.
I tend to let my mind wander when i’m on the mower. I get lost thinking about the ground, and the weeds, and the clouds behind the windmill and church steeple just visible over the ridge, cows, comets, rock and roll.
On one occasion Bruce,
            out driving around in a pickup,
pulled up next to me.
He stopped.  
I stopped.
He rolled down the window.
            ‘Where you heading?’
‘Well just trying to get the drive looking trimmed up.’
‘OK,’ says Bruce, ‘but you might want to get the brush-hog for this part. Probably go easier.’
All and all a good suggestion.
I was almost to the corner East of the Farm. About a quarter of a mile from the drive.
            Still cutting weeds. 
            Along the edge of the road.
Time to turn around. Head back down the hill. To the house drive.
I needed to stop by the house anyway. Get a pencil and some paper.
            I think i’ve come up with a way to solve world hunger.

Fishing again, again, again

6.30.19
Sunny, 84 degrees

Humidity 52%

Dew Point 58 degrees

Wind WSW @ 12 mph
Forecast: Sunny, Highs 80s

Carolyn and i went to Denver on Friday (6.28.19) to get Hilary & Thomas. They’d spent a few days there. Sightseeing.  
            Goofing off.
When they came to the farm they only had a few things on their ‘really want to do’ list.
            Fishing (Thomas)
            Ride in the big-wheat-field-toys (Hilary & Thomas)
            Play pinochle (Hilary….and Thomas. Thomas may not have had a burning desire to play   pinochle as much as a desire to demonstrate his ability to fit in with the Mai Farm Folks.         Which he did admirably).
The way things were working out weather-wise and family get-together-wise, the best opportunity for fishing was Sunday morning.
            We’d be cutting wheat in the afternoon.
And Cedar Bluff the place to go. (‘fishing’: https://tregocenterdairy.com/2011/07/10/fishing/ fishing: https://tregocenterdairy.com/2013/08/05/fishing-2/)
So, while Carolyn, Pam and ‘the girls’ headed to church
            Carolyn, Elianna & Michelle playing for the church service.
Hilary, Thomas, Bruce & i head for the lake.
            Quiet.
            Bug free.
Quiet because all respectable Midwestern farm folks are at church.
Bug free because there was just enough wind to move the insects along.

It was Thomas’s first time at the Farm….so his first time at the lake. We have a tradition here that the ‘first-timer’ catches the first fish of the day.
            Thomas did.
            And the next.
            Thomas caught all of the fish that made it into the boat.
            Thomas got thrown out of the boat.

After a great deal of discussion about ‘first-time luck’ vs ‘amazing skill’
            actually, Thomas is an avid fisher
it was decided that we will have to go fishing again.
And again.
And again.
And again.

A Family Photo Op

Sunny, 80 degrees

Humidity 45%

Dew Point 58 degrees

Wind S @ 11 mph
Forecast: Sunny, Highs 80s

The years have recorded many photos of the family.
            Photos taken at Christmas.
            Or weddings.
            Or funerals.
            Or christenings.
Many were taken in front of the elm tree just North of grandma’s house. Many others in front, or back, of the house. Of course, photos from 50, 60, 70….100 years ago need more light than now a-days.
            They were shot outdoors.
            Or in a professional studio.
Many have a ‘formal’ feel.

Someone suggested a family portrait of Elfriede and Albert’s kids and their spouses.
            “The ‘older’ generation.”
The ‘older’ generation rebelled. At least for the minute it took to look around and come to grips with being the ‘older’ generation.
            A while ago Joyce and i accepted that we are ‘the’ senior members of the family. 
            Our birthdays are only 100 days apart.
            Gentlemanly propriety prohibits me from saying which comes first.
Jessica, our resident family portrait photographer, suggested a picture by the old barn. Its 100^th birthday is this year. Over these 100 years it has been the backdrop, or in the background, of many photos. 

So, Jessica climbed a ladder. The ‘older’ generation lined up.
            History was made.

Tomato Truck Run

Davis, California
High clouds 74 degrees

Humidity 45%

Dew Point 48 degrees

Wind NW @ 4 mph
Forecast: Clear, High 80s

Hilary, Carolyn and i had just finished lunch at Bistro 33. A great place to eat in Davis. California. Especially on the patio on a fine ‘Fallish’ day.
Conversation got around to tomatoes. Tomatoes on sandwiches. Tomatoes on semi-trailers.
           Tomatoes on the road.
All around Davis there are tomatoes on the road. A little reflection revealed that the ‘road-tomatoes’ are at curves in the road. 
            Or intersections.
It is easy to visualize someone driving a truck with a bunch of tomatoes taking a corner a bit too fast. Tomatoes rolling off.
It’s tomato harvest season around here. We know a bit about harvest. And spilling the product on the road is generally in bad taste.
Certainly, spilling wheat or corn is the number one grain-cart driver ‘no/no’.
            There are three Grain-Cart Driver Rules about spilling grain; #1, #4 & #8.       https://tregocenterdairy.com/2013/06/30/grain-cart-rules/ .
So, when we see tomatoes
            the fruit of someone’s farming
on the side of the road we notice. When we see tomatoes beside the road here, there and all around the town, we get interested.

Our combined harvesting knowledge is pretty well limited to wheat and corn. Occasionally soybeans.   
            Very little about tomato harvesting.
Not one of us had ever seen commercial tomato picking. Not even Hilary and this is her third year in Davis. Of course, we have all picked a few garden tomatoes. But never a field full of tomatoes.
Our café discussion led to the decision to do a ‘tomato run’. North of town.
            We’ve seen more road-tomatoes on the North side of town.
Three miles North of Davis
            on Highway 113
there are tomato semis everywhere. We’re obviously heading in the right direction.

A mile or two more and we spotted tomato semis on the ‘off’ roads. Maybe a mile from the main road.
We head West. Hunting for signs of tomatoes on the move.
Within a half mile we found ‘tomato truck scat’.
            Tomatoes on the road side.

Why not cover the trucks? Seems like an obvious question to us.
Our semis are covered before they leave the field. After much discussion our best guess is that tomatoes are heavier than wheat.
            Or corn.
            Or soybeans.
Wheat and corn and soybeans will blow out of the semi-trailer, even when its running straight on a level road. Probably less chance of losing tomatoes. And tarps for all these trailers would cost a fortune.
Another mile West we see tomato trailers in a field. More parked on the road next to the field.
Side Note:     In Western Kansas most of the farm roads are dirt.
                        In Yolo County most of the farm roads are hard surface.

Out in the field a John Deere tractor is pulling tomato trailers.
            The big white tandem rigs we see everywhere.  
The harvester picks the tomato plants. Separates the green from the red, then puts the red into the trailers.

Once the trailers are full the John Deere driver pulls the full trailers over to the road next to the field.  Another John Deere tractor with empty tomato trailers pulls up to the harvester. Within a few seconds the harvester is unloading tomatoes into the empty trailers.

The John Deere hauling the full tomato trailers parks them on the road, the driver detaches the full trailers and heads back to the field.  First picking up a couple of empty tandem trailers on the way to the field where it falls in line behind the second John Deere and its almost full tomato trailers.

 2015 tomato harvest by the Bowles Farming Company

It is a beautiful, almost continuous operation. Picking. Separating. Filling tomato trailers. Out of the field. Onto the road. Picking up empty tomato trailers. Back to the field.
A semi coming back from unloading tomatoes at the processing plant parks the empty tomato trailers on the road by the field. The driver unhooks the cab from the empty trailers. Drives up the road a bit. Hooks up two of the full tomato trailers and heads back to the processing plant.
            We figured it was time to follow.
Carolyn began Googling tomato processing plants in Yolo county.
            Nearest?
Pacific Coast Producers. Seven miles North of us.
Big plant.
Really big plant.

We watched a tomato semi get weighed on the way into the plant. Another getting weighed on the way out.

             This is familiar.
            Just like taking grain to the elevators in Western Kansas.
Unlike the grain elevators in Western Kansas, there are no piles of tomatoes on the ground.
            Often during harvest the grain elevators get full and pile the extra grain on the ground.
The tomatoes are apparently dumped from the bottom of the trailer onto a conveyor belt and taken into the plant for processing. According to the California Tomato Growers Association
            Processed tomatoes are used immediately, from the moment of harvesting
            less than 6 hours pass until the tomato is in the can.
Not bad. We’d be really hard pressed to go from the wheat field to bread in six hours.
All of these tomatoes are for sauces, tomato paste and similar products.
The tomatoes used in salads, or on hamburgers,
            the ones bought at local groceries
are a different kind of tomato. Grocery store tomatoes have thinner skins. The pulp, pulpier. And they are picked green.
            Fresh market tomatoes are picked green and some of the fresh tomatoes are            
            gassed with the fruits own natural ripening hormone called ethylene to    
            promote consistent ripening.
The CTGA goes on to say:
            During the height of the season, California tomato growers are producing
            2,000,000,000 pounds of tomatoes per week! To put that in perspective that is
            40,000 tomato trucks each carrying 300,000 tomatoes.
The Midwest may be the breadbasket of the U.S. but California has tomato sauce sewn up. 
Late in the afternoon we headed back to town.
            Dinner with Thomas’s family. 
            Then a night flight East for Carolyn and i.
It was a great afternoon of cruising the Northern California countryside. Especially for folks with ties to farming.
            And John Deere equipment.
Time for another wine tasting.

After Thought:
            What the CTGA has to say about covering loaded tomato trailers.
            Since tomato harvest is in the summer, covering the trucks could result in the      
            tomatoes being damaged by the trapped heat.
Go figure.

9/11/19 A Day to Remember

Sunny 94 degrees

Humidity 40%

Dew Point 63 degrees

Wind S @ 22 mph
Forecast: Sunny, cooler

September 11^th.
            A day to remember.
At the farm our memories today always turn to Elfriede.
            It’s her birthday. September 11^th1921.
On September 11^th2001 Elfriede was 80 and getting ready to head East. She had been at the farm most of the Summer. Wintering this year in Greenville, North Carolina. Summer’s at the Farm, Winters with one of the ‘kids’.
In 2001 she stayed through harvest and her birthday. The plan was to fly back East the next day.
            Of course, that didn’t happen.
It was the end of September before she made it back to Greenville.
For the rest of her life Elfriede said she was sad that her birthday would always be associated with the terrorist airplane crashes.
            Guess it will be for years to come.
But for those of us at the Farm the dark memories of September 11^thare offset by the memories of Elfriede. And telling Elfriede stories takes us long into the night.

Snack sack

Sunny 72 degrees

Humidity 58%

Dew Point 42 degrees

Wind S @ 8 mph
Forecast: Sunny. Highs mid 80s
Greenville, North Carolina

I average 10 miles a day on my bike. 
           It keeps my cardiologist happy.
Well, to be honest, for the last two years i’ve only averaged 8.57 miles a day. Western Kansas weather has cut my riding at the Farm to just about zero. Roads are just too muddy.

But back in North Carolina i have a 10-mile course plotted out. And for the last 12 years i’ve been averaging about 10 miles a day.
            Except the last two.
Almost all of those miles are in our neighborhood. Which keeps me off the main streets. Which keeps me alive.
            We have ‘bike lanes’ all over town.
            For car use only.
A few years ago, i could do my 10-mile neighborhood course in 47 minutes.
            On a good day.
On an average day it took me about 55 minutes. Which is really booking on the straight runs because there are a lot of stop signs and cul-de-sacs. Take a cul-de-sac curve too fast and you can end up on the ground. I met the Cadenza cul-de-sac ground one afternoon. Awakened with an ambulance, firetruck, several cars, Carolyn and other folks all juggling for the cul-de-sac space i hadn’t already claimed. But that is a Good Friday story for another time.
Early this Summer i was riding my usual North Carolina course when Bruce called. He was just checking on when Carolyn and i would be getting to the Farm for wheat harvest. I rode for a while talking, then decided to pull over to talk.
            I always wear ear-buds.
Can’t understand holding a phone while walking or driving or riding or working in the yard or doing almost anything. This is the 21^stCentury ear-buds and blue tooth are everywhere.
While riding i usually listen to music.
            Or podcasts
The day Bruce called i was seven miles into my ride.
            A good time to stop.
            Prop up the bike.
            Sit in the shade.
            Have a snack.

I always carry a bottle of water. Filled with crystal light peach tea. And a snack. Small bag of apple slices and nuts. Salted nuts. Peanuts. Cashews. More nuts than apple. The salt helps in the Summer.

By the time Bruce called i was far enough into my ride that i was just tired enough to appreciate the coolness of the grass. The shade of the trees. The salty sweet snack. 
As Bruce and i were talking. Mr Goldberger was driving by. Slowing to a stop.
            ‘Are you OK?’
            ‘Yes. Fine. Just taking a break.’
That’s the kind of neighborhood we live in. Folks watch out for one another. Especially old folks.
            Young folks watch out for old folks.
            Old folks watch out for young folks.
            And Mr Goldberger wanted to make sure the ‘kid’ from up the street was OK.
Bruce and i went on talking about cutting wheat and family get togethers. A fair number of people will be at the Farm around the 4^thof July.
Just about the time Bruce was asking about when Hilary and Thomas would arrive another car slowed to a stop.
Waving my sack of apples and cashews, i preemptively shouted. ‘Just taking a break.’ The lady in the car smiled. Waved and drove on.
Less than a minute later, a car coming from the other direction slowed as he approached my camping place. I smiled, mumbled OK and waved the bag of cashews and apples. The guy in the car waved back and drove off.
Bruce only caught part of my mumbled OK. ‘What was that?’ He asked.
‘Oh nothing,’ i responded. ‘Just had to wave my nut sack at some guy who was driving by.’
Distance has a way of magnifying silence.
            Ask astronomers.
The silence from Bruce’s end of the conversationwas deafening.
I sputtered out an explanation.
            Tried to clarify.
Realized talking against the laughter was useless.  I surrendered the conversation. Got on my bike and rode into another Farm story, beginning ‘You should have heard what Bob did.’

Gimmie Caps

Sunny 88 degrees

Humidity 31%

Dew Point 66 degrees

Wind S @ 10 mph
Forecast: Sunny. Highs mid to high 80s

Gimmie Caps.
Gotten a fair number of questions about Gimmie Caps.
Generally, Gimmie Caps are baseball style caps with a caveat. They have someone’s logo on it. Advertising.
Around here it is usually farm stuff.
            BTI (Bucklin Tractor & Implement).
            Asgrow (Seeds).
            DeKalb (Corn seeds).
            Cabela’s (Outdoor gear).
            Frontier Ag (Grain elevator). 
            John Deere (Needs on explanation). 
            Cargill (Grain elevator).
            Case IH (Farm equipment).
Often the dealership/manufacturer/elevator will give you one of their caps when you are in the store. Especially if you are buying stuff. They want you wearing their logo when you are out and about: in the field, in town, out to supper, doing business.
It’s not unusual to have someone walk into a dealership/manufacturer/elevator/ect and say,
            ‘Hey guys, give me one of your caps’.
Hence:
            ‘Gimme’ cap.
I haven’t bought a baseball style cap in 30 years.  
Bruce probably never has.

It’s all about the pickup

Sunny 84 degrees

Humidity 745%

Dew Point 66 degrees

Wind SE @ 10 mph
Forecast: Sunny Highs 80s

Mid-morning. Bruce & Joyce were gone. The dogs and i keeping watch.
            The dogs, actually doing the ‘watching’.
            But that’s their job.
I was inside at the computer. Earphones on. Working on some wheat harvest video.
            Never heard the truck drive in.
First i knew something was up, was when the dogs announced
             quite insistently
that there was a truck in the drive.
‘Someone was here.’ i later told Bruce.
‘Who?’
‘Some guy and a kid. Well teenager actually. Late teens. The guy was older maybe in his late 60s. Large gray mustache. Gimmie cap. Glasses.’
‘What kind of a truck was he driving?’
‘Well the teenager looked familiar. Riding shotgun
‘What kind of truck were they in?’
‘There was a dog riding in back.’ Don’t think i’ve seen the dog before. A shepherd mix. Maybe 40….45 pounds. Short hair. Brown and gray.  Some white around his muzzle.  A regular shepherd’s tail. White tip. Has a white paw on the front left. The others are brown.’
‘What kind of truck?’
‘i just don’t know.’
I like to think that in the days of my youth i would have paid close attention to the truck. As i would have with any car. Make. Model. Color. Accessories. But these days they all look pretty much the same.
            Trucks.
            Cars.
All built for fuel economy. Not style.
Dogs are still different. As different as they were in the 1950s and ‘60s.
            I notice dogs.
Back in North Carolina i average 10 miles a day on my bike. It keeps my cardiologist happy. I’ve got a course plotted out. More or less in the neighborhood.
            No big roads.
            Not much traffic.
The only real hazard are people backing out of driveways. I pay close attention to driveways.
            And dogs.
Not because dogs are dangerous, it’s just because i like dogs. Grew up with dogs. I know the dogs on my bicycle course. I identify people by their dog. Or dogs. First looking at their dog then the people who go with it. If they don’t have a dog then there is a good chance that i’ll be several blocks down the road before i remember who they are.  
            First the dog.
            Always the dog.
Out in the country. It is first the truck.
            Always the truck.
Occasionally the car. 
Then the people.
After 29 years of hanging around the Farm i should know that.
            Actually, i do know that.   
I cant count the number of times i’ve thrown people off.  Local folks.
They see the truck. It’s Bruce’s truck.  
            Then they see me.
As we pass there is a look of what’s going on?
            I make sure to smile and wave.
Yep that’s Bruce’s truck, or flatbed, or tractor. The guy driving is sure not trying to hide anything. So….everything is probably OK….just not what’s expected.  
            And they will remember.
‘Saw some guy driving your flatbed West on the Trego Center road yesterday afternoon.’
‘Yep. My brother-in-law. He comes out to help with harvest.’
After a few weeks people start to recognize me. i get waves. Nods. Even a smile. But there is that momentary look of:
            Bruce’s truck.
            ?
            Oh yeah’, Bruce’s brother-in-law, or cousin, or something.

‘Don’t remember what their truck looked like?’
            Nope.
‘Well, they’ll come back.’
            So, will i.
            With a phone full of photos of everyone’s truck.

Da’ Big Fish

Sunny 92 degrees

Humidity 35%

Dew Point 66 degrees

Wind SE @ 9 mph
Forecast: Sunny, highs 90s

It’s exciting!
It’s beyond exciting!
It’s a fish. A fish on the run.
            Down to the bottom.
            Under the boat.
            Toward the shore.
But the most important part of fishing is being able to say….’Well, yeah. I caught the big one.’
In this case both of them.  
            With some help.
There is always help.
Fishing without help usually means the ‘bragging rights’ go to the fish.
Bruce hooked the first of my pair. Handed me the rod and a few words of ‘fishing guide expertise’. 
            ‘Land him’.
After some serious freshwater fishing excitement, the Wiper was in the boat. A little while later i hooked and landed another.

One was 6 pounds.
The other 6 pounds 4 ounces.

In the midst of both of my ‘old man and the sea’ battles i was so focused on not losing the fish, that i can’t remember who was wielding the net.  I think it was Bruce on the first and John on the second. A fishing net at the end of a steady hand is just about mandatory to land a good-sized Wiper.  And these were good sized Wipers.
            Real Kansas fighting fish.
The kind of fishing that separates ‘men’ from ‘Real Men’.
Wikipedia.   Wiper:
        1)  A cleaner in the engine room of a ship.
        2)  A hybrid striped bass. (Striped bass and White bass).
Either definition will probably separate ‘men’ from ‘Real Men’.  Today the fish is our examiner. After all, our ‘engine room’ is a Johnson outboard 150 V6 Silver Star.
Kansas Department of Wildlife, Parks & Tourism.  Wiper:
        1)  Perhaps the most aggressive fish in Kansas waters. Wipers grow fast, strike     hard, and fight like no other fish.
Fishing, of course is….fishing.
            Not catching.
Just because there is a ‘tug’ on the line does not mean there will soon be a fish in the boat. Several times we had our bait taken and nothing to show for the loss but line, sinker and fishhook squeaky clean.  Obviously, a fighting-fish challenge. Both John and i had fishing lines snapped. Snapped the instant we felt ‘the tug’.
            Wham. Bam.
            Bait, lure and line, about 10 to 20 Feet of it, gone.
West Kansas Fishing Experience. Wiper:
           1)  An honest to goodness fighting fish with a fighting chance of getting dinner and not becoming dinner.
When a Wiper strikes everything goes into high gear. The first question everyone asks ‘You got something?’ Seems like an absurd question. But there are a fair number of times that a bending pole means that we’ve caught a tree, or branch, or bush, or shrub. Whether it is a flora or fish the routine in the boat is about the same.
If it is a ‘snag’, stop the boat
            which is almost always moving a little
and start reeling in the lines that are still out and not snagged. Then bring the boat right over the snag (fishing line going straight down) and begin the ‘freeing the lure’ routine. Snapping the rod tip up and down very fast. Pause. Repeat.
In the hands of an expert like Bruce there is a fairly good chance of freeing the snagged lure.
But there are times. Other times.
Times when the pole bends and the reel starts its high pitched ‘sczzzzzzzzz’ as the line runs out. Then the line starts darting from place to place. 
            The front of the boat.
            The back of the boat.
            Away from the boat.
            Toward the boat.
Reel in the line. Let the line out. The pole bends. Bends more. Sczzzzzzzzz. Let it run. Reel it in. Let it run.
Encouragement and advice fill the air.
The other guys in the boat reel in their lines. Whoever is nearest gets the net. Moves to the side of the boat. Near the guy fighting the fish.
            Not too near.
            Give the contestants room to maneuver.
Then when the fish gets near enough to the surface the net slips into the water.
            No splash.
Nothing to scare the fish. Just a smooth scoop. The fish is in the net. Out of the water. In the boat. Fish. Line. Net. Piled together in the bottom of the boat. The Wiper still fighting. 
            Wipers never give up.
Each of us got ‘finned’ trying to get a Wiper out of the net and off the line. Stab wounds that will ache for days. Wounds recalling a Wiper’s last fight.
Bruce and John both landed several good-sized Wipers. We also brought in and threw back several Drum and smaller Wipers.
Still high on adrenaline from my second Wiper encounter, John had something on his line. Something big. A Wiper. A big Wiper. Not the biggest, but very respectable.
            Fishing Note: Bragging rights allow the bragger to brag whenever and
            wherever the bragger can get away with it.
            Bragging rights can be officially rescinded by throwing a fish in the face of the bragger.
John’s Wiper was a fighter.
I only had one line in the water, which i quickly reeled in. I then got the fishing net ready. John was using a different reel than the others we had. Bruce was offering suggestions.
Again, and again the fish ran and dove.
Again, and again the pole bent nearly in half.
Again, and again John let the Wiper run. Brought him back to the boat. Let him run.
I was now at the side of the boat. Ready. Waiting. Then the GoPro flashed through my mind. But i just couldn’t abandon the fight to grab it. This fish-fight would have  to remain undocumented.
‘It’s a Wiper.’ Bruce shouted from the front of the boat. ‘He’s going to the back.’
John’s pole was nearly bent in half. Suddenly i saw the fish.
            The fish.
            The little fish.
            The real little fish.
It couldn’t have been more than three inches long. But there it was. On the line. Apparently fighting John for all he was worth. The pole still bending. I just stared. Trying to figure how that little fish can cause all this commotion. Either John is a magnificent actor or that is one super little fish.
‘Get ready, Bob. It’s right there!’
OK.
I feel like a fool. A net for that fish? But, i’m the guy with the net and i’ll net that fish.
‘Get it Bob!’
With all the finesse and skill i could bring to bear i brought the net up under the little fish. Then i heard one last suggestion from both Bruce and John….
            ‘NOT THE PERCH! THE WIPER!’
Ahhhhhhhhh. I see it now!
The ‘bait fish’, a small perch, has slipped off the hook and up the line. The Wiper is about two feet below the perch.
I sheepishly repositioned the net.
The Wiper is in the net. Then in the boat. Then the laughter starts.
‘I know what Carolyn would say.’ I knew what was coming. ‘You Idiot!’ was said in chorus.
            Once upon a time.
            In a pinochle game long, long ago. 
            When Carolyn saw what cards i laid down she blurted out ‘You idiot.’
            It was early in my pinochle development.  
I don’t regret making a fool of myself. That’s just part of life.
But what if….
What if….
i’d gotten the GoPro! The video of me trying to net a two-ounce Perch with a big Wiper just below it would get enough YouTube hits to get us a new fishing boat. One i’d lobby to christen,
            ‘The Idiot’.

Radio feedback

Sunny, 94 degrees

Humidity 43%

Dew Point 58 degrees

Wind ESE @ 17 mph
Forecast: Sunny, Highs 90s

It is common to hear that Kansas is flatter than a pancake. Especially if Interstate 70 is your view of Kansas. It is a misconception.
            Kansas is ‘considerably’ flatter than a pancake.
This was the conclusion of a collaboration between several geography graduate students at Texas State University and Arizona State University. Their research was reproduced and expanded by a couple of professors at the University of Kansas.
The Jayhawkers pointed out that several states are flatter than pancakes. Kansas coming in seventh for the flattest of the ‘Lower 48’. Flatter than Kansas are: Florida, Illinois, North Dakota, Louisiana, Minnesota and Delaware.
            All even more considerably flatter than a pancake.
So, you’d think it would be easy for the ‘cutter’
            the guy driving the combine and
the grain-cart driver
           the guy driving the grain-cart
to stay in touch. With all this flatness a good pair of binoculars ought to be enough to see where the other person is and what they are doing. But even pancakes have subtle ridges and valleys.
            Where pools of syrup collect.
There are subtle ridges and valleys in almost every wheat field.
            But without the syrup.
I’ve lost sight of the combine on many occasions. I’ve gotten myself lost on others. (https://tregocenterdairy.com/wheat-harvest-2017/ End of wheat harvest 2017).
The obvious fix….
            radios.
We’ve had radios in the field equipment for years now.
The first were CB rigs.
Mounted in the cabs.  We even had ‘handles.’
            AKA: Call signs.
Bruce was Easy Rider. I became Billy.
            Dennis Hopper’s character in the movie ‘Easy Rider’.
In time we traded in the CB rigs for small handheld radios. They had a great advantage in that we could carry them around. Didn’t have to be sitting in the equipment cab to use the radio.
However, these early handhelds didn’t have much range. They were designed to use at places like Disney Land. Or the state fair.
Here in Western Kansas
            despite our pancake profile
there are small signal swallowing ridges and valleys.
Then cell phones came along.
As my friend The Tiger would say: ‘They are great’.

            Portable.
            Easy to use.
            Always on hand.

But the same ridges and valleys that caused us to lose sight of each other also cause cell signals to be blocked. Sitting on the top of a ridge there are often four bars.
            I’ve even download Netflix.
100 feet away from that magic spot and there are the dreaded ‘No Signal’ zones.
So back to the radios.
This time Bruce went all out and got some pretty high-class hand-held radios. Ones that are designed to be used in the woods. They have a flatland range of slightly over a mile and. At least three-quarters of a mile in syrup catching ridges and valleys. They are durable and have a 10-hour battery life.
They are now the communication device of choice.

A few days ago, my radio suddenly developed a feedback problem.           
A high-pitched squeak.

Fortunately, it was consistent. It always happened at the same time.  Just as i was finishing using the radio or just starting. Figured it might be because of my cell phone.
            So i turned off my cell phone.
            High pitched squeak.
Perhaps it was because i keep the radio too near the auger camera monitor.
            So i turned off and unplugged the auger camera monitor.
            High pitched squeak.  
Perhaps it is some interference by the tractor. 
            So i turned off the tractor.
            High pitched squeak.
Perhaps it was the hand-held radio settings. (I usually have the radio volume turned all the up to make sure i can hear if someone is calling me).
             So i changed the radio volume.
            High pitched squeak.
Perhaps it is something internal in the radio.
            So i turned the radio off.
            High pitched squeak.
At this point all of the electronics in the tractor and the tractor itself and the radio are off.
            High pitched squeak.
I looked at the radio in discuss. Then gave it a discussed shove.
            High pitched squeak!
I looked closely. I looked really closely at where the hand-held is clipped onto the tractor.
Ahhhhh. Seems it was a mechanical problem.
            Not an electrical problem.
Hopefully Nephew Austin, the engineer will be proud.  
Even if it did take me 20 minutes to figure it out.

Barn Swallows

Cloudy 73 degrees

Humidity 85%

Dew Point 68 degrees

Wind SE @ 7 mph
Forecast: Rain, Highs 80s

For someone of my age ‘the birds’ congers visions of Alfred Hitchcock’s movie The Birds. Or perhaps the rock and roll bands The Birds or The Yardbirds. Both confusingly often referred to as the Birds.
Both bands were from the 1960s. ‘The Birds’ band from the early 60s.
The Yardbirds, from the mid 60s. The Yardbirds, however, were able to boast that three of the top five ‘greatest rock and roll guitarists of all time’ (Rolling Stonemagazine) had been members.
            Jeff Beck
            Jimmy Page
            Eric Clapton
Here at Grandmas house ‘the birds’ usually refers to the Farm’s flying Summer guests. Barn swallows. They come in early Summer and stay until Fall.
The ‘Morton building’ is a favorite Summer-cottage site for swallows.
            It really is a barn.
            Rafters well away from predators.
            Huge doors (almost always open).
            Grain always available in the adjacent field.
Usually a dozen barn swallow families take advantage of the amenities.
            Occasionally several families of sparrows also set up homes.
The birds are pretty but there is a downside. Several actually.
            Birds are noisy.  
            And  totally lacking in toilet manners.
Over the years we have made several attempts to evict them.  Never to any real success. Even the tried and true country intervention: a life size plastic owl.
           Tied to one of the rafters.
The owl and other birds of prey often scare off smaller birds. But, the swallows (and sparrows) who board in our barn, have come to ignore, even embrace, the large plastic owl. Our Barn Swallows and Sparrows have figured out that if they screech and fly around the plastic owl in great fear whenever new birds show up
            the ‘new’ birds will leave.
The Farm swallows then return to cooperatively living with the owl and
            without new neighbors.

For reasons that are not at all clear, there is a family of Barn Swallows who build a home on the front porch light. Year after year. They are not deterred by people.  Nor by the light. 
Admittedly they have nice Southern views.
            Great ventilation.
            No predators.
            Safe from the rain. But….
why?  They have to frequently interact with people. Although almost everyone uses the backdoor, occasionally people use the front door to bring in luggage. Or take out luggage.
Occasionally people sit on the front steps.
Occasionally people use the front porch stoop as a phone booth.
            In Grandma’s house the front stoop has the best cell phone reception.
Occasionally people work in the front yard. Cut the grass, or wash cars or stand and wave at passing pickups. But all of these interruptions seem to spark Ban Swallow determination.
From a people point of view the swallows are not overly obnoxious.
            As long as you don’t go in the front yard.
            Or near the front door.
            Or the front steps. 

The swallows have the tendency to stand on the edge of their nest and poop. A remarkably great avian adaptation. Facing the nest. Tail overboard. But a real disservice for anything below. Like farm equipment and sidewalks.
And Barn Swallows have a ‘small bird’ attitude.
            They are aggressive.
They will dive and screech at anyone on the front stoop, steps and sidewalk. They are quite insistent that whoever is there get away from their nest.
            A very noble trait in such a small bird.
            But annoying.
Still the swallows are only here for a few months so a ‘live and let live’ peace has evolved. The only real problem
            to be brought up at the next tenants meeting
is poop. Surely flying to the fence or edge of the house is not asking too much.

The day after the 4th….a dreary wheat harvest day
Cloudy 74 degrees
Humidity 75%
Dew Point 66 degrees
Wind ENE @ 16 mph
Forecast: Rain, Highs 80s

We knew the rain was coming. Should be here this afternoon. So there is a window of wheat cutting time early this afternoon. We’ll get the rest of the wheat cut by the house then move North.
One mile.
However….’The rain giveth. The rain taketh away’.
Although the rain hasn’t come yet the air is full of water.
The wheat is way too tough to cut. Wheat stems absorb ambient moisture. The stems get too tough to cut. Tough stems are the main reason we quit cutting in the evening. And the main reason we wait to cut until late morning.
Today we may have to wait until….
tomorrow.

Nothing to do now but cover the wheat
on the truck
extend the grain-cart auger
so, the rain doesn’t run into the bottom of the grain-cart bin
and wait.

Or
like Bruce
head West with the big tractor and undercutter. Do a little field work until the rain comes.
That’s the way it is in farming.
Do what you can.
When you can.
Then wait to see if the rain is going to….
giveth or taketh away.

K-9 Maturity

Sunny, 72 degrees
Humidity 80%
Dew Point 65 degrees
Wind S @ 6 mph
Forecast: Partly cloudy, Highs 80s

It is well known that there is a difference in dogs.  A different approach to life. It is really easy to see in our Farm dogs.
Stache is all about staying within petting distance of his people. On occasions underfoot might be a better description.
He also loves to run.
If Bruce is standing next to a tractor
or truck or
grain bin or
combine or
or….anything, Stache will give Bruce’s legs a quick sniff then head to the back of the of the vehicle. He then runs back to Bruce for a quick ‘check in sniff’. Then to the other side of the vehicle. Back to Bruce. Then to the front of the vehicle.
Back to Bruce.
Then to the back of the vehicle again.
Just to make sure nothing has changed.
Then back to Bruce.
Then to the other side of the vehicle.
Then back to Bruce.
Then….
And all of this within the first minute that Stache and Bruce walked up to the vehicle. If Bruce is inside the vehicle Stache has the same routine. But instead of sniffing Bruce between vehicle inspections, Stache will run to the vehicle door and look up to make sure Bruce is still there.
I’m always amazed that Stache, and Max who is also an ‘under the feet dog’, have not been run over by a large farm vehicle. I figure it can only be by the benevolence of God and perhaps, acute K-9 hearing.
Shadow is a dog of a different temperament.
He watches.
Usually by standing by the edge of the excitement. However, in his youth Shadow ran the fields. Even now he will ‘trot’ up to the equipment yard.
East
of the house.
Up the hill.
A good walk for an old dog. And he makes it with dignity.
Around the house he tends to stray near the buildings. He’s always at the edge of whatever is going on. If some maturity is needed he’ll step into the middle of it all and take control.
All of the other Farm dogs will immediately defer to his presence and judgement. When Shadow walks up all of the other dogs will step aside so he can stand right next to the people. Occasionally the ‘bouncy’ dogs will try and induce Shadow to run and jump. A quick woof and snap and Shadow’s personal space is reestablished.
Maybe it is an older dog thing.
Maybe it is a maturity thing.
Of course, if someone unknown
or a non-Farm animal
comes in the yard Shadow leads the welcoming committee. Often, he can tell from quite a distance if his intervention is needed. If not, he will direct the action from across the yard.
But if the intruder is unknown
after the initial bouncy dog resonance
Shadow is in the front.
Leading.
Not directing.

When it’s still too wet to cut wheat….plant flowers

Sunny, 87 degrees
Humidity 35%
Dew Point 64 degrees
Wind S @ 21 mph (a steady glorious wheat & ground drying wind)
Forecast: Sunny, Highs 90s

We still can’t cut wheat.
Yard is mowed.
Weeds eaten.
TV antenna aligned….cable secured.
Backdoor fixed.
Time to plant flowers.
At least for Carolyn.

The front of the house has always had flowers.
Especially the strip of ground between the sidewalk and the house.

Some years the flowers do well. Some years the weeds do better. That’s just life in the country.
However the ‘heirloom’ roses by the ‘new room’ door are still growing. Have been growing for as long as i’ve been coming to the Farm. The roses came from the Midwest. They thrive in the Midwest. They are used to heat and poor watering and lack of care and hardcore abuse.
I’ve trimmed them.
I’ve trimmed them almost to the ground. They came back.
Again.
And again.
The forefather of these flowers lasted through the depression. They lasted though the dust bowl. They lasted abuse by non-gardeners. And gardeners.
With a critical farmer’s daughter’s eye, Carolyn cleaned and trimmed the roses.
One more time.

She put the same attention into the flower bed between the sidewalk and house.
Used landscaping fabric.
Used dirt from Bruce’s secret stash.
Used flowers from Jan & John’s yard
Flowers that have already proven themselves.

Maybe, just maybe. This will be the year.
Check back next year to find out.

Shockney returns

Sunny, 94 degrees
Humidity 26%
Dew Point 35 degrees
Wind S @ 10 mph
Forecast: Sunny, Highs 90s

She’s Back.
And she’s pregnant.
Shockney first came to the farm in the Summer of 2017.
https://tregocenterdairy.com/wheat-harvest-2017/

She is a used quarter horse.
One owner.
Low mileage.
Also, an Equine protozoal myeloencephalitis survivor. The EPM cut short her barrel racing career. Actually, cut short her career as a mount. But she keeps Norman company. And she looks really good walking around the homestead.
Every farm should have a horse to go with the dogs. Dogs are obligatory on a farm.
Cats too.
Shockney has been away becoming pregnant.
In the days of my youth i remember hearing of ‘girls’ being sent away to have a baby. Never heard of any being sent away to become pregnant.
Times change.
Shockney was.
And is.
She should have her foal about the first week of May. 2020.  Until then…..
Look good.
Grow a good baby.

A trip to the Trego Landfill

Sunny, 84 degrees
Humidity 42%
Dew Point 54 degrees
Wind WSW @ 8 mph
Forecast: Sunny, Highs 80s

Aristotle maintained that ‘horro vacui’.
Brother John is the only person around who can translate that in his head.
My physics 101 teacher said Aristotle was expressing the idea that ‘Nature abhors a vacuum’ Although farming does not necessarily abhor a vacuum, farming certainly abhors inactivity. There’s always something to do!
Always.
If there is no ‘farming’ to do….then there is something else to do.
Maintain the equipment. Cut the grass. Cut the weeds along the road. Cut the weeds by the house. Move the grain. Clean a barn.
Or tractor.
Or grain cart.
Or house.
Or dog.
If in doubt, just do something.
This day Carolyn was once again on a cleaning spree.
Bruce caught the bug.
We picked up stuff from the old milk barn. The shed. The Quonset hut. The barn. The yard. Grandma’s garage.
We loaded it all into the ‘old’ pickup.
Carolyn topped it off.
Then Bruce and i headed to the landfill.
The landfill is about four miles North. It’s a big hole in the ground. The hole is made
and maintained
by the county landfill crew. They created and maintain the ‘pit’ with a really big bulldozer. A big frontend loader. And a good-sized road grader.
We got to the landfill.
Checked in at the gate.
Headed for the pit.
The road into the pit runs around the top of the pit. Along the edge. Then down a dirt ramp to the dumping part of the pit. Bruce, who was driving suddenly looked past me into the pit. ‘Well what’s going on down there?’
I glanced to my right, but my view was obscured by primal instinct.  I was on the ‘pit side’ of the pickup. I had been looking intently out the window. But not down into the pit. I was keeping track of the distance between the edge of the road and the pit.  In the days of my youth i was well known for often going slightly over the edge.
But that was the 1960s.
Going over the edge at the landfill marks the point where the plans we had for the day would suddenly change. Although i have made this trip with Bruce just under a bazillion times, the edge always gets my attention. We’ve never had a problem.
Probably never will.
But there is something in the base of my brain that shouts; ‘Pay attention. Over that edge is a very bad day on the savanna! Just beyond that edge the pickup will roll over
and over
and over all the way to the bottom of the pit.
35 feet below the edge.’
We didn’t go over the edge.
By the time we had circled around the pit and were driving down into the pit, the newer part of my brain had taken over. Curiosity overwhelming survival instinct.
Right in front of us was the landfill bulldozer stuck in the mud.
Seriously stuck in the mud.
A closer look showed that the frontend loader was also stuck. It’s bucket way in the air. A 21^stCentury dinosaur, its neck still extended as far as possible above its doom.
I immediately flashed to last Fall’s adventure. Getting the Moose stuck.
Actually unstuck.
(https://tregocenterdairy.com/corn-harvest-2018/  One Stuck Moose).
I began sweating.
Then i realized that best thing i could do to help the landfill guys was to stay well out of their way.
I began to enjoy watching.
The landfill guys were using the road grader, a flatbed truck w/a boom and the bulldozer itself to ‘unstick’ the bulldozer.  The bulldozer was ‘helping’ itself. Using the blade on the front to push and the ‘ripper’ on the back to pull.
Another flashback.
Last Fall i saw a frontend loader ‘walk’ itself across a muddy field to get to where it could help dig out the Moose. (https://tregocenterdairy.com/corn-harvest-2018/  One Stuck Moose).
Once we had emptied the pickup of our landfill contribution, Bruce and i watched the show. discussing the progress with other landfill contributors.We didn’t stay to see the bulldozer and frontend loader freed.  But what we saw was well worth the price of admission.

For almost 30 years i’ve been coming to the Farm. Every timi’ve been here i’ve seen something new.
Could be because there is so much happens on the Farm.
Could be because i’m such a city-boy.

 

Making room for wheat

Sunny, 87 degrees
Humidity 39%
Dew Point 47 degrees
Wind SW @ 15 mph
Forecast: Sunny, Highs 90s

An upside to not cutting wheat is that we can ‘get ready’ at a more leisurely pace. Just before dinner Bruce and i moved some equipment around and started unloading a granary.
It has been filled with corn.
Corn gets sold.
Wheat gets saved.
Bruce has been using the 840 tractor, with frontend loader, for mowing. Out along the road. Along fallow-field fence lines.
Brush Hog stuff.
The kind of ‘mowing’ that happens along the edges and in the median of highways.
A tractor pulling a flat rotary mower….a brush hog.

A few years ago, i fell madly in love with this rig. Running up and down the edge of the road. Knocking down weeds with abandon.
Today we parked the brush hog with the other equipment
waiting to be used
and brought the tractor back to the granary full of corn. Hooked it up to the auger and began loading corn into the grain-cart.

The corn will be off-loaded into a semi.
Then the semi will come to the granary and get ‘topped off’.

The semi will get here early in the morning and take several grain-carts full of corn.

When it’s too wet to cut wheat….cut weeds

Sunny, 77 degrees
Humidity 40%
Dew Point 51 degrees
Wind SW @ 12 mph
Forecast: Sunny, Highs 80s

We can’t cut wheat.
We’re here to cut wheat. But it is way too wet to get in the fields. The equipment sinks. (One Stuck Combine https://tregocenterdairy.com/corn-harvest-2018/).
The upside is that the rain is good for growing crops. Not so much the hail.
Well if you can’t cut wheat cut weeds!
Carolyn has been cleaning out flower beds. I’ve been weed-eating.
I love weed-eating.
A friend stopped by yesterday.
Farmer. All his life. All of his dad’s life. All of his Grandfather’s life.
He ran a critical farmer’s eye over what i had done.
‘You a professional weed-eater?’
‘No. But i love weed-eating.’
On several occasions in the days of my youth i lived out in the country. Once in a national forest. Once in a deep-mine coal tailings dump. Wasn’t a tailings dump when i lived there.
It was a pretty valley.
Five families lived there.
The Foxes lived at the mouth of the valley. Lived in a large three-story house. With several out buildings. A fenced yard. A few horses. And dogs. And sheep.  And apple trees. And five kids.
Now grown and gone.
Once the Fox family owned the whole valley. But generation after generation sold off parts of the valley. Starting at the top and moving down toward the homestead.
I was the next stop going up the valley. About a mile up from the Foxes. An old faded three story house and matching barn.
A big barn.
The house would fit inside.
A mile up from me was Old Lady Clark. She lived in a trailer.
Her estranged daughter lived next to her. In a trailer.
Johnston Smith and his girlfriend lived at the top of the valley. They built a cabin they had seen in a John Wayne movie. It was better suited for the Southwest, but they made do.
Piece by piece
generation by generation
the Foxes sold the valley to the Midland Mountain Mining Company. Now we all rent our rest from Midland.
Living alone, as i did, i walked the valley.
First day i noticed that it would be a lot more fun if the trails i found in the woods were a little better maintained.
i started carrying a weed-eater.
i would use the weed eater to improve the path. Give them some distinction.
Within in a year or so they were becoming grass paths.
To give the paths a place to go i created clearings.
Several near the ridgelines.
For watching the valley.
Several near the creek
For watching the fish.
Several on the ridges.
For watching the stars.
All carved out of the landscape by a weed eater and an attitude.
Over the years more and more local folks started using the trails.
Hunters.
Hikers.
Photographers.
Lovers.
Then Midland decided to bury it all.
The houses.
the woods.
The wildlife.
Our lives ended up two hundred feet under a valley full of coal mine tailings.

Hail’s Bells

Sunny, 77 degrees
Humidity 40%
Dew Point 51 degrees
Wind SW @ 12 mph
Forecast: Sunny, Highs 80s

End of June.
Should be cutting wheat. Maybe well into the ‘swing’ of things.
This year….
not so much.
This is the wettest year in living memory. And that includes people in their 80s. It has also been a cool Summer so far. Wonderful for outdoor parties. Not so good for ripening wheat.
Hot.
Dry.
Steady-wind.
The magic trifecta for wheat harvest. But the magic is late this year.
And if hot, dry, steady-wind is the magic for ripening wheat, wet, hail, strong-wind is the curse. Yesterday the curse came true. A brief thunderstorm from the West.
Brief.
Thankfully.  Because it was sporting some serious hail and wind.
The hail cut a swath about three miles from North to South. And a couple of miles from East to West.
It passed through quickly. Which saved a lot of crops. But a couple of fields got hit hard.
A neighbor got a whole field of corn ripped apart. Ripped apart to the tune of 100% loss. One of our wheat fields is about 60% ruined. The rub is that there was a chance of that field producing one of the best crops in living memory.
Ah well, as i’ve heard Bruce say….
The weather giveth and
the weather taketh away.
And over the years i’ve learned that it takes the patience of Job to be a farmer.

Road Fishing

Partly cloudy, 78 degrees
Humidity 65%
Dew Point 62 degrees
Wind SSW @ 8 mph
Forecast: Partly sunny

In days of my youth i picked up hitchhiking chickens.
It was the ‘70s and the thing to do.
We were living in Northern Arkansas. In the White Mountains.
The heart of chicken country.
We had several neighbors who were chicken farmers. Mostly broiler hens.
For four months 25,000 chickens lived in a barn that was about 500 feet long by 40 feet wide.
The chickens arrived as chicks and left as four-pound broilers. They usually left at night.
Chickens are not as rambunctious at night.
A crew would come out about midnight. Pickup chickens and put them in wooden crates.
12 to a crate.
Then stack the crates on a flatbed semi.
Back then the crates were wooden and sometimes the side slats would break.
Chickens would occasionally escape.
Find themselves wandering along dusty mountain roads.
Whoever drove out of the valley earliest in the morning had first dibs. It was the way most of us kept chicken on the plate. And in the yard.
It was as easy as shooting fish in a barrel.
I’ve heard that idiom all of my life. I can’t remember when i first heard it.  Don’t think anyone ever explained it to me. It’s just obvious.
No reason to think about it.
At least not until last week when John & Jan texted. They had what may be the ultimate Western Kansas fishing story.

It’s been wet this last year.
Really wet.
Everyone in Western Kansas has been posting photos & videos of the wetness.
Torrential rains.
Fields full of water.
Rivers where roads used to be.
Cows in canoes.
It was so wet last year that we ended up with a half-dozen Trego Center Dairy stories about wet fields and stranded equipment. And we’re starting off this wheat harvest (2019) with more.
It was so wet last year that we even talked about swapping tires for tracks on the combine and grain-cart tractor.

This year the talk is about pontoons.

When John & Jan texted their fishing story, my hitchhiking chicken memories came flooding back. Along with an all new American idiom for ‘easy’.
‘Send photos!’ I texted back.
‘You furnish the pictures and I’ll furnish the fish story’. (Apologies to William Randolph Hearst)
They did.

A bunch of photos.
Each one with circles and arrows and
a paragraph on the back explaining what each one was.

Photos that prove the fishing story.

Photos that stake a solid claim on an all new American idiom for ‘easy’.

The fishing was easy John said.
‘As easy as picking up fish on the road’.

Close Air Support

Partly cloudy, 82 degrees
Humidity 47%
Dew Point 58 degrees
Wind NNW @ 5 mph
Forecast: Intermittent rain/sun

After years of weather that slipped in and out of drought.
Years of crops that didn’t leave a lot to brag about.
It started raining.
A year ago.
And it hasn’t stopped.

Hard dry ground has become muddy. So, muddy it is often impossible to get farm equipment in the fields. And getting the equipment out of the fields can take the combined effort of several tractors, a backhoe, a bulldozer and some awesome chain.  (Scroll down to: ‘One Stuck Combine’ & ‘Moose….Stuck Again’ https://tregocenterdairy.com/corn-harvest-2018/)
The wetness also brings bugs.
Upside to bugs….pheasants and quail have more to eat.
Downside to bugs….some bugs are bad for crops.
Wheat Curl Mites are about the size of a grain of rice. Inside of almost every Wheat Curl Mite is the Potyviridae Tritimovirusvirus.
(Kansas State University Research and Extension)
This virus causes Wheat Streak Mosaic.  If the virus hits in the Fall it can lead to over 50% crop failure.
So far, the Wheat Curl Mites are giving Trego Center Dairy fields a pass this year. But, Bruce reported that there is some Wheat Stem and Leaf Rust developing.
I wasn’t too surprised.
Even a city boy knows that if you leave anything out in the rain it will rust. Although….
when i thought about it….
none of the cows,
or bulls
or horses ever rusted.
At least i never saw anyone sand down the animals and apply a thin coat of oil.
Back to the K-State Research and Extension.
Wheat Stem, Leaf and Stripe Rust are caused by several different species of Puccinia graminis fungus.  Recent shifts in summer rain patterns have created ideal conditions for the growth of Wheat Rust in the Western part of the state. If the Rust is left unchecked at this point in the year, it can cause wheat crop losses of 20% to 30%.
But it can be fought!

With fungicides.
Traditionally a 0.25% Clorox solution. Applied to wheat leaves and stems with very small, very soft tooth brushes will get rid of the Rust fungus. This was popular when people were growing less wheat.
Around 4.356 square feet.
But anything more than the 1000^thof an acre requires fungicides that can be ‘sprayed’ onto the fields with farm equipment.
We’ve got the farm equipment.
We’ve got the fungicide.
But the farm equipment can’t get into the field. They are just too muddy. So, current options are:
LetLet the Wheat Rust take over or….
fungicides from the sky.
Bruce doesn’t use aerial spraying very often. Actually, all spraying at Trego Center Dairy is done for a clear and present danger only. Wheat Stem and Leaf Rust is a very ‘clear and present danger’.
Time to call in close air support.

Bruce gave the folks at Nutrien Ag Solutions a call.
They suggested something a little less dramatic than Napalm.  A fungicide.
A fungicide targeted for Wheat Stem and Leaf Rust.
They called Waylon in Nebraska. He flew down. Stopped at the WaKeeney airport. Got Nutrien Ag folks to top off his plane with the appropriate fungicide then buzzed several of Bruce’s fields.

Now we wait and see.
Will the aerial spraying stop the rust?
Will the fields dry enough so we can get equipment in?
Will the fields dry enough so we can get equipment out?
Will the wheat dry enough so we can cut?
We’ll have to wait and see.
As always….
It’s all about the weather.