4 - 20 - 12: Harrowing and Games

After helping feed the cows this morning, I did some harrowing (no, not heroin). Harrowing is the act of driving a tractor which is hitched to a harrow (a metal mesh of hooks which get dragged behind the tractor) through a field after cows have deposited manure in order to distribute the manure throughout the field. Devin taught me how to harrow by demonstrating proper technique, in order to ensure that I didn't have a harrowing harrowing experience. Harrowing is done by following a circuit in the field, meaning first one determines a course via one's initial lap on the field, and after completing the initial lap, one drives the tractor directly to the left of and along the immediately preceding harrowed lane (discernible because the harrowed grass looks wet and is closer to the ground than the non-harrowed grass, and so creates a recognizable pattern) by aligning the front wheel of the tractor to within a foot of the lane, and following a spiral, until the laps meet in the middle. I learned that it is important to avoid potholes and craters (apparently, cows like to moonscape [or, rather, mooscape]) as well as anthills in order to not damage the tractor as well as to keep from feeling like a contestant in a particularly rambunctious rodeo. The way to avoid potholes but still ensure that the majority of the cow coprolites get scattered is to do a quick swerve to the side right before a pothole, then swivel directly back to the original trajectory, precisely in the manner which would frighten any driving instructor or parent on a multi-lane interstate freeway. Also, when lanes meet at an acutely angled corner, instead of cranking the steering wheel, leaning into the wind, and going medieval on the turn, it is better to make a gradual loop in the opposite direction to eventually meet up with the lane in the intended direction. Or, as Doc Hudson says, "sometimes you have to go right to go left."

Harrowing is an impeccably fun activity. Although Rob and Devin advised me that a practical duration to spend harrowing for a day is an hour, I ended up spending two hours and some odd minutes finishing the area of the field I was assigned to because I was having such a merry time interval (and the field was so close to being done, I figured, "what the heckfire!"). Frankly, it is a deeply calming activity, where a person can just be out on one's own in the field, enjoying the scenery and melodious sound of the roar of a gas engine. Plus, after about five minutes into harrowing, I also realized that harrowing is an activity which lends itself stupendously to belting out 60s and 70s songs at decibels commonly considered torturous to others in everyday circumstances. In fact, I discovered that an especially animated rendition of The Beatles' "Rocky Raccoon" can get me around an entire field in one lap if I do enough warbling, seated convulsing, vigorous foot stomping, and incorporate all of the instruments vocally.

After my stint as a crooning rock star / chilled out tractor driver and a torrential downpour of rain, Devin, his cousin River, and I wrote some gloriously uproarious Mad Libs. And, as usual, today I checked the cows every hour on the hour, but alas, no calving commenced (just scratching sessions). But, tomorrow might be the day!