Well, it got worse before it got better—but the thing that got worse somehow turned into something better.
Last week I told you about our disappointing soybean yields and a few breeding hiccups in the sheep barn. The good news first: the ewes are back on track, The next group is breeding now and optimism’s returned to the barn.
But out in the bean field… that’s where the real story happened.
We started into our next field of soybeans—our best land—and spirits were high. Then I spotted it. One lone kernel of corn sitting in the wagon. “What’s the big deal?” you might be thinking. Well, it’s a very big deal when you grow non-GMO soybeans for the export market. One kernel of GMO corn can spoil a premium load worth thousands.
The culprit? A few stray corn plants that, for some reason, decided to actually make cobs this year. And despite my best coaching from the combine seat, the machine didn’t listen—it happily harvested them right along with my beans.
There was only one option left I could see: walk the field. Every single acre, in front of the combine, and pull those corn plants by hand.
So Sunday morning, out we went—Ezdon and I, hoes in hand, with Anne (still hobbling on her sprained ankle) driving the combine. It was one of those unseasonably hot October days that makes you wonder if you’re still in Ontario. We hacked, hauled, and sweated through 25 acres, keeping just ahead of Anne’s pace. It was exhausting but oddly satisfying—one of those jobs where you feel every step but also every bit of pride.
The next day I would be sore and short on help—Ezdon back to work, Anne busy shipping lamb boxes—and twenty acres still left. Rain was coming that next night. Then, like a small miracle, a neighbour texted Ezdon: their three Jamaican seasonal workers had no work booked for Monday.
By 10 a.m. Clayton, Roman, and Shane were marching through the beans, corn knives flashing. I had to tell them to slow down—they were running! By two o’clock the field was clean, the crop safe, and they headed home with some lamb for supper.
But you know, that wasn’t the best part.
The best part was Sunday—the day with Ezdon. Walking that field beside my son, I told him, “You know, Ez… this would’ve been your Papa’s solution too.” I could almost see Dad out there with us—sweat on his brow, grin on his face, proud that we were getting it done the hard way, the right way.
Funny how one kernel of corn can ruin a crop… or remind you of exactly why you farm in the first place.
Farmer Rod
