Bog Myrtle & Peat

Having recently grumbled about the prospect of wasting a field of grass, I was thrilled to receive a late night visit from a sympathetic neighbour on Tuesday night. The house was lit up with dazzling headlights as a tractor pulled into the steading at 11 o’clock with a mower on the back, and within half an hour the field was cut. The past thirty six hours have been spent in a frenzy of excitement as I watch the weather and hope to turn this grass into hay.

I’ve been stand-offish about grassland management for years, and I’ve been actively critical of silage production on many occasions. Some of the extensive silage production in Galloway’s dairy country has a shocking impact on wildlife, and the great green silage fields can be a wasteland for birds. I’m doubly enthralled by this latest exploration into the world of agriculture because it has put me at the working face of a process I inherently distrust.

Having spent yesterday in the driver’s seat of our old David Brown 996 kicking out deep mats of soggy grass to dry with a hay bob, I have got my hands well and truly dirty. In a tiny way, I’ve had a window into the kind of work that goes into harvesting grass, and I can match my concerns for wildlife with a compelling awareness that this is a practical and pragmatic way of producing food for cattle. Most surprising of all, I’ve found that I absolutely love it all; the smell of sappy grass, the roaring hum of the tractor and the authentic (if perhaps naive) feeling that I’m physically binding myself into this landscape.

More to come, as always.