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June 30, 1988 - The Hot, Hard Life of the Hay FarmerPage 12A/The Suffolk Times /June 30, 1988 The Hot, Hard Life of the Hay Farmer By Paul Stoutenburgh No rain and the radio reports 95- degree temperatures. My heart goes out to the farmer whose back is breaking under the pressure of endless days and nights of irrigation moves, continuous cultivation of his crops, repairing the many break- downs, keeping up with the bookkeep- Focus on Nature ing and the endless line of little and big things that go into today's farm work. No wonder so many are giving up. The farmer cannot get help; they don't want to do this or that. It's a real problem. Perhaps it's the basic reason we see so many "U Pick 'em" signs. There are few today who want to do the menial but necessary jobs on the farm. I had occasion to stop at one of our biggest East End farms and spoke to the farmer's wife. The heat and dust of mid- day were all about us. She had been driving the truck in the field where they were picking up straw. There was no help to be found. Haying is a hot and tedious job. If you've ever had occasion to toss bales of hay or straw up on a truck, you can appreciate the job. We think of hay as sweet - smelling and soft enough to lie on. On the contrary, it is hard and sharp when dry. When you handle enough of it, it can really get to you. Once, when I was younger, I helped oto by Paul Stoutenburgh HAYING - -John Tuthill of Mattituck has one of the hay cut and dried earlier to go into storage for winter largest hay farms in the business. Here he is baling sales. load a wagon with hay or straw (I can't remember which) without a shirt on. My stomach and arms became chafed and sore from rubbing along the bales as I threw them up. Perhaps I didn't have the strength of later years and used the back of my arms and occasionally my stomach to support the bales. We live and learn. The next day I wore a shirt with long sleeves. � • V �r%i/J Nape p NEW (�n�h �e FEATURING- Mehv l Char - Broiled Burgers l Homemade Pizza > Super Specialty Sandwiches +Our Famous Italian Specialties! EARLY •BIRD *SPECIALS INCLUDING SOUP, SALAD, DESSERT and COFFEE '5.019-115117,90.0 Mon— Thurs. 4°C6 OPEN 7 days a week LUNCH M —F 11:30 --2:30 DINNER 1DAYS 4 -10 722 -8978 Main Road, No Easy Job Well, that's only half the problem. Straw or hay pieces seem to take partic- ular enjoyment in breaking off and get- ting inside your shirt, pants, or in your hair. And does it itch. Put it all together on a scorching hot day and you have one of the most unpleasant jobs around. Yet the hay has to be cut, dried, tethered, baled and picked up. Someone has to do it. We get most of our hay from John Tuthill, a special kind of farmer who seems to make farming work for him. He has the equipment and the know - how. Of course, the weather has a lot to do with making hay and we've had just about perfect weather lately. You can tell good hay by its color. If cut and dried quickly, it will hold its color. If the hay has to stay in the field for days because of rain or dampness, it loses that h freshness an d Colo r we associate with good hay. When we had our old horse Dusty years ago we'd cut our own hay. We didn't need too much to satisfy his needs. Now with him gone and the cows taking his place, we need much more to tide them through the winter months. Seems to me cows never stop munching whether they are grazing or peacefully chewing their cud. Their jaws are always moving. They do a good job of keeping the pasture down and, if nothing else, lend a pleasing touch to the place. If you were to ask me whether they pay for themselves, I'm afraid I'd have to say no but then not everything in this world has to have a profit. Perhaps that's just one of the reasons I'll never be a rich man. Surely our chickens don't pay for themselves either but they, too, have always been around. In the 30 -plus years we've lived at this location, we've always had chickens. We do get enough eggs for our family and occasionally supply a roaming raccoon or fox with a Sunday dinner, but then that's okay, too. Pitchforks Come Into Play When we did cut our own hay we usually brought it in loose on a truck. In some places th— still do it that way. Here's where the pitchfork comes in. There's an art to laying it up so that it's stacked just right and if you don't, needless to say, you're not going to get a full load. Being only amateurs, we of- ten didn't get a full load. Today the old cutter, hay rake and tether sit up on the back hill rusting away. I hate to get rid of them. They're like a gravestone commemorating an- other time when we were younger and not afraid to try anything, no matter how much work it involved. It's remarkable how much energy youth has. It seemed then there would never be an end to it. The only prob- lem was never enough hours in the day. Today the hours are still there but the energy could stand a little replenishing, if you know what I mean. I'm told there are now more horses on Long Island than in Colonial times. That's hard to imagine but we didn't have as many people in those early days. Perhaps it's true seeing how popular the horse is and horse farms popping up here and there. Often during the year I see huge truckloads of hay heading east on the expressway. There's just not enough hay or land around here to take care of all the demands. Most of our land is too expensive to raise hay on. Upstate hay is cheaper. I was told by a very meticulous person who raises horses that upstate hay has more miner- als, another reason for buying it from there. We sure don't have much lime- stone down here. Lucky for me the cows aren't too de- manding. Good old- fashioned meadow grass seems to satisfy them. No fancy timothy or alfalfa for them. We can get our hay from the fields around here where many have become overgrown with grasses and weeds of all sorts. As my mother would have said about the weather, "Some good will come from it." Ninety -five degrees, hot and dry -- perfect hay weather for John Tuthill; not so perfect for the farmer who has to irrigate his crops 24 hours a day, day after day. Surely a disaster to the farmer who doesn't have irrigation at all. Page 12A/The Suffolk Times /June 30, 1988 The Hot, Hard Life of the Hay Farmer By Paul Stoutenburgh No rain and the radio reports 95- degree temperatures. My heart goes out to the farmer whose back is breaking under the pressure of endless days and nights of irrigation moves, continuous cultivation of his crops, repairing the many break- downs, keeping up with the bookkeep- Focus on Nature ing and the endless line of little and big things that go into today's farm work. No wonder so many are giving up. The farmer cannot get help; they don't want to do this or that. It's a real problem. Perhaps it's the basic reason we see so many "U Pick 'em" signs. There are few today who want to do the menial but necessary jobs on the farm. I had occasion to stop at one of our biggest East End farms and spoke to the farmer's wife. The heat and dust of mid- day were all about us. She had been driving the truck in the field where they were picking up straw. There was no help to be found. Haying is a hot and tedious job. If you've ever had occasion to toss bales of hay or straw up on a truck, you can appreciate the job. We think of hay as sweet - smelling and soft enough to lie on. On the contrary, it is hard and sharp when dry. When you handle enough of it, it can really get to you. Once, when I was younger, I helped nAlrimu ionn iumin or MattitucK nas one or the nay cut and dried earlier to go into storage for winter largest hay farms in the business. Here he is baling sales. load a wagon with hay or straw (I can't remember which) without a shirt on. My stomach and arms became chafed and sore from rubbing along the bales as I threw them up. Perhaps I didn't have the strength of later years and used the back of my arms and occasionally my stomach to support the bales. We live and learn. The next day I wore a shirt with long sleeves. 0� <:NaVe A NEW (�n�h �1e FEATURING- Me,�` l Char - Broiled Burgers l Homemade Pizza Super Specialty Sandwiches + Our Famous Italian Specialties! EARLY e BIRD •SPECIALS INCLUDING SOUP, SALAD, DESSERT and COFFEE $ �o � $� ° 5 Mon— Thurs. 4°60: OPEN 7 days a week LUNCH M —F 11:30 -2:30 DINNER ]DAYS 4 -10 722 -8978 Main Road, Aquebogue No Easy Job Well, that's only half the problem. Straw or hay pieces seem to take partic- ular enjoyment in breaking off and get- ting inside your shirt, pants, or in your hair. And does it itch. Put it all together on a scorching hot day and you have one of the most unpleasant jobs around. Yet the hay has to be cut, dried, tethered, baled and picked up. Someone has to do it. We get most of our hay from John Tuthill, a special kind of farmer who seems to make farming work for him. He has the equipment and the know - how. Of course, the weather has a lot to do with making hay and we've had just about perfect weather lately. You can tell good hay by its color. If cut and dried quickly, it will hold its color. If the hay has to stay in the field for days because of rain or dampness, it loses t h at freshness and color we associate with good hay. When we had our old horse Dusty years ago we'd cut our own hay. We didn't need too much to satisfy his needs. Now with him gone and the cows taking his place, we need much more to tide them through the winter months. Seems to me cows never stop munching whether they are grazing or peacefully chewing their cud. Their jaws are always moving. They do a good job of keeping the pasture down and, if nothing else, lend a pleasing touch to the place. If you were to ask me whether they pay for themselves, I'm afraid I'd have to say no but then not everything in this world has to have a profit. Perhaps that's just one of the reasons I'll never be a rich man. Surely our chickens don't pay for themselves either but they, too, have always been around. In the 30 -plus years we've lived at this location, we've always had chickens. We do get enough eggs for our family and occasionally supply a roaming raccoon or fox with a Sunday dinner, but then that's okay, too. Pitchforks Come Into Play When we did cut our own hay we usually brought it in loose on a truck. In some places thpv still do it that way. Here's where the pitchfork comes in. There's an art to laying it up so that it's stacked just right and if you don't, needless to say, you're not going to get a full load. Being only amateurs, we of- ten didn't get a full load. Today the old cutter, hay rake and tether sit up on the back hill rusting away. I hate to get rid of them. They're like a gravestone commemorating an- other time when we were younger and not afraid to try anything, no matter how much work it involved. It's remarkable how much energy youth has. It seemed then there would never be an end to it. The only prob- lem was never enough hours in the day. Today the hours are still there but the energy could stand a little replenishing, if you know what I mean. I'm told there are now more horses on Long Island than in Colonial times. That's hard to imagine but we didn't have as many people in those early days. Perhaps it's true seeing how popular the horse is and horse farms popping up here and there. Often during the year I see huge truckloads of hay heading east on the expressway. There's just not enough hay or land around here to take care of all the demands. Most of our land is too expensive to raise hay on. Upstate hay is cheaper. I was told by a very meticulous person who raises horses that upstate hay has more miner- als, another reason for buying it from there. We sure don't have much lime- stone down here. Lucky for me the cows aren't too de- manding. Good old- fashioned meadow grass seems to satisfy them. No fancy timothy or alfalfa for them. We can get our hay from the fields around here where many have become overgrown with grasses and weeds of all sorts. As my mother would have said about the weather, "Some good will come from it." Ninety -five degrees, hot and dry -- perfect hay weather for John Tuthill; not so perfect for the farmer who has to irrigate his crops 24 hours a day, day after day. Surely a disaster to the farmer who doesn't have irrigation at all.