In Pursuit of Hay

My annual backwoods project to collect winter feed.

(My 2010 Dodge pick-up, loaded with 56 bales to drive up to the barn.)

Often in my childhood when driving with my mother, she would point to a truckload of hay and say “Make a wish! Whenever you see a hay truck you should make a wish!” Wishing is the secular counterpart to praying, and my mom, born and raised a short distance from where I now write this essay, was shaped by a frugal, agrarian culture in which a full load of quality hay was regarded as a blessing or gift.

And so it is. My wife and I made our own square-bale hay for years in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom, where we usually put up between 6-9,000 bales each year with the help of our young children and a few beer-fed farmhands. Now I gather hay from various farmers (at $4-$7/per bale, rather than the $2-$3 we received two decades ago). This is an enterprise I wish to share.

I work hard writing on the computer with my brain while my body atrophies. Farming and collecting winter feed is my gym membership, my therapy, and my social circle. I meet farmers all over central Vermont in search of the best hay at the best price. I buy first cut and second cut, which have different purposes; I buy both square bales for our sheep and round bales for our cows. Some hay is delivered; some I get in the winter from the farmer’s barn, or off the fields in the summer.

I get to drive over beautiful Vermont dirt roads under a glorious Vermont sky on steep, stoic mountainsides in my $2,500 pick-up (four years ago!). The truck has a sound frame, new brakes, and a reinforced spring package so it can endure the abuse. I seek to load as many bales per trip as I can safely, and without breaking a leaf spring or otherwise killing my work truck. This is the most efficient for time, gas, and vehicle wear — but it also makes for a fun challenge during physical labor.