On the silage.
They have greased up the old mower, and lined the silage pit. They have watched the weather forecast and everything is fit.
The trailers have their sides on, the buck rake's on the tractor. the guys have dug their flasks out, and they've phoned up the contractor.
Everybody's ready, the sun is shining bright, and sandwiches and kitkats will keep them going through the night. The grass is cut and wilting, the sugar's running high. The forager starts grunting under a clear blue sky. The tractors and the trailers are driving to and fro. The cowman moves his cattle, and then goes off to mow. The forager is roaring like an angry beast. Eating up the acres for a winter feast. The driver of the buck rake is building a neat heap, rolling all the air out reversing, beep beep beep. It needs some concentration to roll right to the edge, with one wheel in the silage and the other on a ledge. The sweat drips off the drivers and the empty trailers rattle, and the smell of sun and silage attracts the neighbours cattle. The sun is getting lower and the sky has turned blood red, but they will keep on going as others go to bed. With one eye on the weather, they will try and fill the clamp until the dew starts forming and the grass is getting damp. Then they will park up ready to do it all again, and pray the sun keeps shining and drives away the rain. And when they take their boots off their socks are full of bits which they walk up to the bathroom, and when they take off all their kit. There's grass inside the toilet and stuck around the shower is dirt and dust and grass seeds and a daisy in full flower. Good luck to all on silage it's long hard hours each day but just be bloody grateful it's not small bales of hay! Jan Millward©