It will be openly admitted here that yours truly was absolutely attuned to all things farming years before other supposedly ‘more important’ things in life. Now read on…
To cut to the chase here, in many ways NOTHING is more important than farming and/or agribusiness. Without them, you’d starve or freeze to death. Those two points are only the tip of a very large iceberg regarding how important farming is to life and more of that will be expanded upon hereafter.
To begin with, however, we must first go back. To when I was about four. It was at that point there was a cognisance that my brother worked for a neighbouring. There were cattle at home too, so I was surrounded by livestock and machinery and fell in love with it all.
To the extent that there’s now a story which has become the stuff of legend in our family. At the time, it was standard practice for Paul to drive whatever tractor he finished the working day in home.
Now, to this day I’ve no idea which tractor it was, but, if he was home at any reasonable sort of time he’d put me up in the cab. Well, this particular evening I wasn’t on for getting out. At any cost. Up to and including every light in the house being turned off. It can only be assumed exhaustion eventually won out.
From that day to this though – and please God for as long as wheels are ferrying yours truly about – farming has been one of the central tenets of what makes live liveable. Never more so than when a lifelong dream of becoming actually actively involved in farming myself came to fruition in 2013.
Undoubtedly the happiest five years of my life until circumstance and obduracy left my further away from the farming world than at any point in my nigh on 43 years of rolling around this big old ball. The wheels are turning again however and an end to my agricultural exile is in sight. And so, my final promise to da will hopefully to fulfilled. Aberdeen Angus calves will be afoot!
Being honest, when one was out of the farming loop the only option was to get all the way out so as to avoid even further emotional upset. So that meant ceasing to read both the Farming Independent and the Irish Farmer’s Journal. The theory being that ‘out of sight, out of mind’ would be my best coping mechanism. Except, of course, for the reality that it hasn’t been out of mind for any more than a split second at any time in the interim.
Thus, once there was even a scintilla of a chance a comeback might be possible, the Indo was restored to the reading roster last week. And it didn’t take long for something to catch my eye. Specifically, a headline.
‘My neighbour’s slurry spreading is ruining our country idyll, is there anything can be done to stop it? “
Jesus wept. As one of our neighbours was forced to point out to a similar complainant many moons ago “If you want to live in the country, you have to put up with the country smells”!
That was far more polite than I would’ve been about the situation. Similarly in the more recent case, it would simply be pointed out to the afronted that they’ll quickly forget about the stink when they’re tucking into their steak or putting milk in their coffee. They are the type of people who, if asked to go fetch a litre of milk, would go looking for a cow’s nest!
Still, the farmers keep doing their bit. With the will of whoever pulls the levers in the engine room far away, I’ll be among them.