Taking a break from the week’s chaos to write this newsletter turned out to be more than just a quiet moment—it gave me time to connect a few dots I hadn’t even realized were floating around. Sometimes sitting still with a cup of coffee is the only way the story unfolds.
Last Saturday, Anne and I were replanting that new hay field we rented this spring—the one that just didn’t grow. We’d seeded it weeks ago, but between the cold and wet weather, it was a bust. Now, I know replanting hay in July sounds kind of ridiculous, and trust me, I was thinking the same thing as we bounced along in the tractor. Chances of success were slim. But what choice did we really have? We’ve already bought more ewes to keep up with demand, and they’ve all gotta eat.
I’ve done the math. And unless something changes, at the rate we’re going, the hay we’ve made on the first two cuts—and projections for the next two—just isn’t going to carry us through to spring of 2026.
Buying hay? Sure, it’s an option. And I appreciate the offers from a couple farmer friends—good hay, too. But no matter how good it is, it’s different. And different means more fiddling around at feeding time, more guesswork, more variables. It’s just not the same as feeding our own stuff, from our own fields.
Anyway, thinking back to a few weeks ago - We’d just baled a small hay field and I knew it would need some fertilizer. I had some left over from spring planting, so I headed up to the co-op to borrow a spreader. There’s always a lineup of them parked outside, so I picked one out of habit—spreader #19.
Loaded it up using the tractor bucket, made my usual quick rate setting using the chart on the back of the machine, to control how much fertilizer is applied per acre, and off I went. Only had about 3 acres to cover, but by the time I was 1.5 acres in, it was empty. Odd. But I didn’t think too hard about it. With small fields, it’s hard to measure accurately, and my guess was I’d misjudged how much I’d loaded.
A few days later, same deal—just a little 2-acre field this time. Back to the co-op, grabbed #19 again. Bought extra fertilizer to be safe. Spread the field—and again, just barely had enough. I figured it was the turns, the overlapping passes. It’s tricky with those little pieces of land. Ah well, I thought, a bit extra fertilizer won’t hurt. Might even help.
Then this week rolled around. We’d just finished second cut on the bigger hay field—about 10 acres. I figured it was time to give it a little boost. So off I go again, #19 in tow, fertilizer in hand. This time I’d done my homework. Measured everything out, triple-checked the chart, set the rate gate perfectly.
About halfway through, something didn’t feel right. I stopped the tractor, climbed down, peeked inside.
Empty.
Now that’s not normal.
I went back to the chart, started rechecking everything, and then it hit me like a ton of fertilizer bags:
“Rod, you dummy. You didn’t check the gear.”
See, these spreaders have two drive settings—high and low. And there are two separate charts, depending on which one it’s in. There’s a little chain and sprocket setup that changes the drive ratio. I used to check that all the time. But after 20 years of them always being in low, I guess I stopped somewhere along the way.
Well, wouldn’t you know it—#19 was in high. The sprockets were still shiny with paint. That’s how rarely anyone uses that setting. And I’d been unknowingly dumping extra fertilizer on all our hay fields for a month.
So I turned around, drove all the way back to the co-op, picked up more fertilizer, set the rate properly, and finished the job. Took longer than I planned, but it got done.
Fast forward to today—as soon as I get this newsletter wrapped up, I’m heading out to bale some hay at those neighbour farms just in case. But that extra fertilizer—twice the usual amount, spread across every field without me realizing—might just be the lucky break I didn’t know I needed. See, fertilizer doesn’t just feed the grass once. It keeps working. And with two more hay cuts still to come this season, there’s a very real chance I’ve set us up for bumper crops without even meaning to.
Maybe the replant will take, maybe not. Maybe we’ll need this extra hay, maybe we won’t.
But if these next hay cuts come in heavy, well... I guess I’ll owe old spreader #19 a thank-you card.
Funny how a little mistake might just saved our bacon.
(Or lamb, as the case may be. 🤣)
Farmer Rod