Done

Kris finished the final cutting of alfalfa and covered the pile for the last time this year.  Finished!  End!   Hooray! 

Usually when they cover the pile, it's extremely hot.  This time they did it wearing hats and gloves.  The wind was blowing really hard too.  Even though he was bundled up, my son came home shivering, with blue lips.  Looks like the real fall is here ...

***

This morning Kris got home and reported that a cow had partially fallen in the manure pit!  Her leg slipped in and Kris and my dad were able to get a halter on her and pull her out with a skid steer.  Thank goodness for heavy equipment! 

To give you an example of how unusual this is, this is the first time this has happened since we've moved here.  The manure pits are covered with heavy duty covers, but she managed to get it just right and knock one.  Bet she won't do that again!

***

Last weekend we visited our wonderful friend Brian Pridgeon's farm for the first time.  Their farm has been in business 176 years - longer than Michigan has been a state.

Yes.  1836! 

 

Kris, the boys and I had never been on a pig farm before.  It was really interesting.  Here's Brian, the seventh generation to farm here:

Defended his master's thesis just a few days after this picture was taken.  He's even happier now!

We toured the barns and the grounds.  I've never seen pigs so little (just born the day before) or that big.  SOME PIGS ARE HUGE!  I'd never really heard so many pigs making noise at once.  The little ones do squeal, but the big ones definitely do not oink.  It's more a grunt.  Not like the word 'oink' at all.  (Much like most animal noises, the words don't do justice.)

We all enjoyed the tour. 

My youngest son loves animals - has always loved cows and cats and dogs.  This was his first up close encounter with a pig:

What a look.

I guess he's going to stick to dairy cows for awhile.

Manure pit

My entire life I was taught to fear the manure pit.

To get rid of the manure in the barn, we scrape it in a manure pit, which is an enclosed space under the barn. Then we pump it out into a manure spreader and spread it on the fields to fertilize our crops. So, we have clean barns and nutrient-rich dirt.

Methane gas is an odorless and colorless byproduct of liquid manure. It's happened in the past (on other farms) that people have fallen into a manure pit. They don't drown, but they're overcome by fumes and suffocate and die. It happens very quickly. Even worse, I've read many tragic stories where people follow one after another to save the person who fell in. I mean - imagine. It's usually family members. How could you not try to help?

I was talking to a friend of mine who also has a farm. She said they had a new employee who seemed to really like the calves. In fact, she said, the automatic manure scraper had knocked a calf into the manure pit. (This happened after a number of unusual events - the cow had calved too early, the calf wasn't seen immediately, etc. It's a rarity.) The employee had jumped into the pit and rescued the calf.

"He jumped in?!" I said. "And didn't die?!"

She said the pit was only up to his waist and was well-ventilated. She added, "But he didn't know how deep it was!" She said she told him that he was to never go in the pit again - lasso the calf and pull it out, yes. But he should never, ever go in the pit. He said there was no written protocol for what happened when a calf fell in a manure pit, so she said she'd write one.

I told this story to Kris, and told him to please tell every new employee to never, ever go in a manure pit. I want everyone to be afraid of suffocating. I want everyone on our farm to be safe. I want a lot of things - and no farm accidents is on the top of the list.

So next time you're on a farm, remember - no swimming in the methane gas.