Hay

The kennel project was put on hold this past weekend while we attended to the needs of the equine members of the ranch. It's probably no exaggeration to say that every square foot of our property unoccupied by a building is capable of growing hay. Our 5-year goal is certainly to do just that: irrigate, cut and bale our own feed. But a lot has to happen to make that happen, and for now we must continue to purchase the winter's horse hay as we did before we moved to St. Ignatius.

The best hay we've found is grown by a retired doctor who lives near Hamilton near the mouth of Mill Creek canyon. It's certified weed-free grass hay and is always leafy, fresh and without mold or dust. Purchasing the hay used to involve a 90 mile roundtrip from Missoula. But now we had an extra 50 miles to tack on each way, not to mention two steep hills up which we hoped our Toyota Tundra would be able to pull a load of 6,000 lbs.

Our first stop of the day was Dale's Dairy in the outskirts of Missoula to rent a trailer. After that, it was down the Bitterroot to get our load. When it's harvested earlier in summer, the hay is collected from the field using a machine that picks it up and stacks it in the barn, all automatically. But loading the hay into truck and trailer is strictly a self-serve, physical process.  They don't call it "bucking bales" for nothing.

Interestingly, Sarah somehow interpreted her job description for the loading process as one entailing a lengthy conversation with our host. Numerous topics were discussed, each taking considerable time. When she at last excused herself, it turned out Ken had single-handedly loaded all 3 tons of hay --that's 69 bales, of which he personally got to know each and every one. As payback, Ken made Sarah endure the process of carefully securing the load, which involved deploying numerous ropes, straps, bungees, hooks and carabiners, not to mention a thorough demonstration of knots that he detailed with historical origin and explanation of merit. The effect on Sarah was not unlike the loading of 3 tons of hay.

Our trip back up included a view of the beginning of autumn colors in Montana (looking toward the mouth of Mill Creek canyon)

And a stopover in Missoula for dinner (the usual enticement that gets Ken signed up to begin with).

And a pleasantly uneventful trip the remainder of the way to St. Ignatius, big hills and all.

Naturally, we had considerable "help" unloading the hay the following day.

Not to mention an eager audience wondering when the job would be done.

There is certainly a pleasure in seeing the barn fill up with hay, and in feeling muscles sore from a couple days' work. Like cutting wood, or canning and putting food by, hauling hay contains an essence of the changing seasons, and reflects the rhythm of rural life.