Serving Proudly As The Voice Of Valley County Since 1913

I've Been Diggin' Up Stones

Here’s a little story about farming. First, though I have to tell you... I am not a farmer. I’m just someone who drives a large tractor pulling some very large equipment around some very big parcels of farm ground. I got this job with the help of a sign around my neck that read “Recently released from Warm Springs. Will Work For Food.”

See, this one guy has 1,600-plus-acres - he wants to put into CRP and it has to be seeded with a five seed mix of native grasses.

I went up there and took the grand tour and after viewing the ground in question I told the guy, “I said I was a good worker, not a miracle worker, but I took the challenge anyway being on the verge of poverty, starvation and homelessness.

So I borrowed a worn-out Versitile 875, and a worse worn out Flexicoil air seeder and headed north one bright sunny day filled with hopes and expectations of a very profitable enterprise. For some reason I had sugar-plums dancing in my head.

The ground to be seeded was broken up into nine separate parcels each adjoining the other except for one. One of the first things I noticed would cause me some degree of consternation was the number of rock piles scattered around the entire 1,600 acres. Judging by the huge number of piles and the size of each one I felt pretty safe that all the rocks had been picked up.

I kinda’ like farming.

I was wrong only once in my 72 years, and that was back in 1957, but I was wronger by far on this one. I figured that out when on the first pass through the very first field I came up with seven or nine seed hoses shook loose from the towers, three loose boots, two rocks stuck in the packing wheels and one in the tractor duels, and two broken shanks, one of which is still out there where the deer and the antelope play, and aren’t saying any discouraging words.

The tractor, which is sans radio and air conditioner was conducive to song writing and I came up with a little ditty that I thought maybe I could get Randy Travis to record so’s I could retire and wouldn’t need to farm any more. Song goes something like this. Sing along if you recognize anything.

I’m diggin’ up Stones, I’m diggin’ up Stoooones/ exhumin’ rocks that’s better left alone/ I’m resurrectin’ boulders from the Ice Age dead and gone/ I’m tearin’ up the air drill diggin’ up stones.

Now, you guys who have the luxury of farming along the river and don’t know what a rock looks like, you may as well turn the radio station to the police blotter station, get a beer from the wife, put your feet up and relax. You folks who farm the north country above Saco and Hinsdale or south of those two locations will know what I’m talking about. Rock piles larger than my kitchen and living room combined. I only had one pass (back and forth) on a three-quarter of a mile long field that I didn’t have to dodge at least one rock pile.

In the words of Lynn Anderson: I Beg Your Pardon/ You Never Said It Was A Rock Garden.”

I just love farming!

Of the 10 or so hours a day I spent on site, I figured six and a half hours were spent driving the tractor and three-and-a-half hours were spent fixing things that had disappeared into the rocks, had broken in half or had simply come from together. The local implement dealer was pleased that I took the job because it benefitted to the tune of most of my money in parts and gas to go the 100-mile round trip to get the parts, which I might add was a daily occurrence.

Here’s what happens when you send a rookie after parts. He (the rookie) went to the local parts place to buy some boot bolts. When he got there he had the choice of getting the 7/16 or the half size bolts and nuts. He drove back to where I was waiting only to find he chose wrong. I put my nuts along with the bolts back into my sack and drove back to town and got the right ones. That ended another day.

I just LOVE farming!

I had to visit the doctor place in Billings one day and my farming buddy seeded about 90 acres while I was being poked and prodded... again. He started one of the best, rockless fields on the whole place. Straight lines, only a couple rock piles to go around and nice soft dirt. When I got back he said, “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I didn’t have any trouble at all today.” He declined when I suggested he could finish the whole shebang and see how little trouble he would encounter. After taking a sneak peak at the very north field he declined my offer.

But I finally got the job finished and there was a little bit of rain to help get the seeds started. I managed to save two owl nests and three duck nests by stopping before I ran over them and taking the eggs to the tractor. I flagged the nest and continued over it until I was well past and replaced the eggs. Last time I looked all was well with expectant mothers and their eggs.

Early mornings are the best times for me, putting the seeder back in good enough shape to weather another torturing day of over-turning rocks and boulders and planting seeds under them, checking the oil and hydraulic oil, greasing the tractor and drill, drinking a cup of coffee while waiting for the tractor engine to warm up and watching the antelope watch me.

In time I could get to liking this farming thing.

That’s it for now folks. Thanks for listening.

 

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