It's a Sign


The last few posts on this blog have been about how three pieces of machinery have failed us. Previous blog entries have talked about the male sheep on our farm, and how they've caused trouble a few times by breeding our ewes when they felt like it, not when we wanted them to.


Melissa found the following sign online. On our farm it refers to male sheep, but I'm guessing others might have their own interpretation to the sign.

Look, Ma, No Wheels....


So our tractor is broken. The front end, which holds the two front wheels and allows Melissa to perform certain critical tasks, like steering, collapsed.

Our neighbor Craig found a guy with a refurbished front end, and it's the right size for the tractor. So with his trailer in tow and Melissa in the truck to pay for gas and a stop at DQ, Craig drove 50 miles to pick up the new front end and wheels.

He's going to fix the tractor for us. Yeah!

But before this can happen, Melissa must get the tractor from where it broke, out in the pasture, down to the shed where we store it, a place out of the wind where Craig can work.

Remember, the tractor does not have any front wheels. We consider the options. Resting the front bucket on the back of something that can act as wheels? This tractor is heavy, so nothing is going to work.

Melissa calls another neighbor for ideas and Greg comes over to check things out. (Both Craig and Greg came right over when they heard the news. I think guys like to check out equipment that has broken in a spectacular way.)

Greg suggests that Melissa drop the bucket and angle it in such a way that it will slide over yesterday's snow and support the front end.

Melissa calls me on her cell phone. "You gotta come take pictures of this! No wheels! No hands!"

So I run out with the camera and am treated to the sight of Melissa 'driving' the tractor down through the windbreak and onto the driveway, where she then 'drives' it into the tractor bay in the shed.





First, no wheels. Amazing.

Second, no hands. There's no reason to use the steering wheel because it doesn't work. Instead, she's steering with the brakes. Because the back wheels turn independently, if she brakes the right rear wheel, the tractor moves right as the left wheel continues to turn.

I learn something I should have known---this is how farmers are able to make such tight turns at the end of their rows---basically keeping one wheel in place and turning the tractor with the other. MAGIC!

Here's one more shot. No wheels, no hands, just a farmer happy to have her tractor on the move once more.

The God of Farm Equipment Hates Us


I know this title makes me sound paranoid, but it's the only possible conclusion one can draw from the events of the last few weeks.

Melissa was mowing the lawn with our riding lawn mower (Usually my job, but I was inside cleaning the house to prepare for a visit from friends.) The engine noise suddenly dropped an octave, so she stopped and noticed oil spurting from somewhere. Not good! (Thank god she was mowing---I probably would have just kept going.) She turned off the engine to protect it from running out of oil and seizing up, then used the four-wheeler to pull the mower 100 feet into the shed. We need to take the mower to a repair shop.

Then several days ago Melissa was at the neighbor's with her four-wheeler, helping them with a task, and the four-wheeler just stopped. Dead. They couldn't get it going again. I retrieved Melissa, then she drove her tractor down to the neighbor's and used it to pull the four-wheeler nearly 1/2 mile home. Our neighbor Craig came to look it over, and he couldn't figure it out either. We need to take the four-wheeler to a repair shop.

Then yesterday Melissa was on the tractor moving bales into place for winter. (We set out all the bales, then give the sheep and steers access to one at a time.) With Craig's help, we've recently learned the tractor has had---for the last thirty years---some front end issues---the bar supporting the two front wheels is the wrong size for the tractor, so needs to be replaced. We planned to have Craig, or someone else, replace the front end this winter .

As Melissa was doing her thing, she hit a shallow dip in the pasture. The front end of the tractor crumpled like a piece of paper. Melissa pitched forward, but stayed inside the cab. She managed to use the hydraulic front loader to lift and hold up the front end, but that's all that can be done. We need to have a repair guy come pick up the tractor and take it to his shop.

Not surprisingly, Melissa's now afraid to drive the pickup or our car. They're the only engine-based things we have that still work, and she's afraid she's cursed!

Two things are going to happen next:

1) Melissa's going to get a massage to relax all the muscles that tensed when she was pitched forward.

2) We're thinking of buying a team of draft horses. I've heard they don't break down as often. Draft horses are overseen by the Goddess of Pasture Animals, and she's much kinder to us than the God of Farm Equipment.