Fear and loathing in the woodlot

Lundy the tenant farmer moved his cows to the other side of the road yesterday, which gives me the chance to pull some of those dead elms down in my back woodlot.

Which is what I set out to do today. I took the old Ford truck back. Made it all the way to the woodlot without engaging 4wd.

That was a bit dicey in a couple of spots. The new passageway through the stone fence gave pause. I’ve negotiated it successfully with the tractor and the back-hoe, but this was the first time through with the truck.

Those stone fences are a marvel. This part of the country is particularly blessed with lots of boulders left behind by the last glacier retreat. That was the “global warming” of ten thousand years ago.

You really have to respect the first few generations of settlers who cleared the land around here. Many of the farms in this area have stone fence-rows that were built up by hand over decades with nothing but manual labor and a few horses or oxen. On my farm alone there must be hundreds of thousands of rocks that were picked from the pastures by hand, loaded onto stone-sleds by hand, and piled onto the fence-rows by hand. Some of these rocks weigh hundreds of pounds.

No back-hoes or power-shovels.

By the middle of the twentieth century the economics of farming were beginning to turn against the small-holder who maintained his own 100 acre spread. Today old-school types like the Lundy’s have a couple of hundred acre plots of their own and lease half a dozen more from urban refugees like myself.

They tend to lease the land at a rate that doesn’t really do much for the owner other than cover the taxes. One of the trends in farming today is for multi-billion dollar funds to buy up millions of acres to lease back to working farmers. They look for a 4-5 % return on equity, which is four or five times what I get. But I also get the benefit of shooting the shit with Lundy and enjoying the presence of his cows in my yard.

Not to mention the fantasy of a grass-fed herd of my own some day after I take the plunge into “real” farming, instead of just making currant jam and elderberry wine.

But I digress. I managed to get through my fence cut in two-wheel-drive and made it all the way into the woodlot. That’s where I ran over a Hawthorn tree.

I remember Lundy telling me those Hawthorms will take a tire out.

I remember thinking at the time, thanks old-timer, but do I look retarded?

Like, I’m going to run over a Hawthorn? Ha!…

So at the moment the truck is back in the woodlot with a flat tire and I am working up a plan that will avoid changing the tire “in-situ” as they say, because that would be a huge pain in the ass. Gonna load the generator and the air-compressor into the trailer and tow it back there with the tractor, and hopefully the tire will hold air long enough that I can get the truck back to the shop.

Meanwhile, the trusty Stihl has been giving a spot of trouble. Last couple of tankfulls of gas I went through, the oil tank that lubricates the bar and chain was still full. Normally they drain at about the same rate. I drained the oil tank and blew it out with the air compressor, but no matter. It’s still not taking oil to the bar. That means we’re beyond my level of techinical know-how, and I dropped it off in town today to have the pros take a look at it.

So that’s what I’ve got to show for a busy day at the farm. A chainsaw in the shop and a truck stuck in the back woodlot.

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