Old McLarsen had some Farms

Chapter 13: Perils of the Paddocks

"You'd be happy for that rain last Tuesday," one of us would say.

Sam would frown, purse his lips and shake his head. "Too early to do any good, that lot. Dried up as soon as the sun came out again... ground's like a sponge this time of the year." This time of year meant that the time for sowing crops was near-immediately following an exact amount of rain to soften the Summer-hardened soil without turning it into a boggy, sodden mess. Before we began our farming apprenticeship, Sam would often come to the city for brief getaways. He seemed to always be whingeing about the weather-like most farmers. Always it was too much rain, or not enough, or too soon or too late-always too something, it seemed.

'We'll All be Rooned, said Hanrahan'-or so the poem goes. In another chapter I've quoted the last lines of the last verse. This is the first verse-a taste of the weary attitude of many farmers.

"We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan, in accents most forlorn,
Outside the church ere Mass began, one frosty Sunday morn.
The congregation stood about, coat-collars to the ears,
And talked of stock & crops & drought, as it had done for years.
"It's looking' crook," said Daniel Croke; "Bedad, it's cruke, me lad,
For never since the banks went broke, has seasons been so bad."
"It's dry, all right," said young O'Neil, with which astute remark,
He squatted down upon his heel & chewed a piece of bark.
And so around the chorus ran, "It's keepin' dry, no doubt."
"We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan, "before the year is out."

The ensuing verses take this 'rooned' theme through drought and rains with Hanrahan always offering his voice of doom and gloom. Even when the sun shone again in a wondrous burst of spring weather, good old Hanrahan's thoughts would automatically turn to the possibility of drought.

This is exactly how the average farmer seemed to us-never satisfied, seemingly fixated on the weather. We had no real understanding of this attitude until we actually lived in the country and shared what happens when it is truly too something. Waiting for that highly anticipated rain was painful enough, especially when clouds gathered and hung ominously low-only to pass by with maybe a short shower. Too often, those same promising clouds dropped a deluge on nearby bush land that also waited thirstily for a decent fall.

"The timing is crucial for crop-farmers." Kanute narrows his eyes, as he recalls vast paddocks with seed sown after the first promising rainfall. Small brave sprouts emerged, but there was no follow-up moisture and they shrivelled and died. "That break in the season is essential... the first step towards their main annual income." He nods his head, agreeing with himself, and I am nodding as well.

How anxiously those farmers wait each year, for that absolute amount of moisture to launch their current year's dreams. Without it, all can be lost. It must fall at the right time, and be closely followed by the correct proportions of sunshine and follow-up rains to produce the fullest, most succulent grains.

Some weeks before Sam had said, "Have to start preparing for seeding. Coming up soon now."

Throughout the pastoral area preparations were beginning in earnest, getting all the required machinery in order ready for the welcome and long awaited 'season-opening' rains.

First and foremost, all attention would be focused on the tractor. The other big machines-the plough, scarifier, and seeder would each have their turn to be readied.

"Each of them was examined with a fine-tooth comb, weren't they?"

"Mmm... and the smallest signs of wear or stress caused a heap of agonising." Kanute frowns, as he counts off those crucial decisions on his fingers. "Those crop fellows would have to decide on things like immediate replacement-or work with that dubious part one last time. And if you kept it, should you have a backup on standby? Could you even afford that?" If the ageing machine in question was to be kept for one more season, every hole would be filled to overflowing with thick lazy oil. Countless parts needed to be taken to bits-some to soak in the evil-looking used waste oil they call sump oil, and others to be cleaned with this same amazing lubricant.