I kept looking and looking at the title and wondering what doesn't look righthere. Finally about half way through the typing of the posting, I realized that it was the word, "tellen". That is dutch for "counting". Now, last night I had the "alarm telling" gig in Zuiderwoude. Essentially, the idea was to go to some fields there and then enter them and count the birds that flew up into the air...and of course to identify what kind they were....along with some other notations. Well upon arrival into the tiny and picturesque village, I parked outside the house of the farmer whose land we would be checking. He is a "big time farmer" with hectares and hectares of land, and some very impressive equipment. None of the other team were there yet and his wife came outside to chat. She thought that the field action would be tomorrow and so I called the leader. The action was indeed for today, so we just stayed there and chatted with the wife. She suggested that we go along behind her man on the tractor, but of course I had to wait for the other team members and the leader...she said, "Ach--I'll just send them to the fields to catch up with you, you go ahead". hahaha. I had to suppress the chuckle, because she was serious. Just then her man arrived on his tractor. I could see that he was ...urmmmm... old. He turned out to be 83. This guy was such a character. He had such a dry sense of humour and sort of fit the bill of a loud, cantankerous old farmer. His sarky and cynical attitude and course demeanour was like being at a Broadway show where stereotypes are used for characters. Well, to be fair--I noticed that he had hearing aids in both ears, so that accounted for the decibel level of his speech. Finally, the leader and the other team member arrived -- they had been waiting for us down the road at the son's house (wrong addy) all this time. We shook hands with the leader, which we knew, and the chap that rode up on his bike. He was a tall man with facial vitaligo and what looked to be some sort of cervical fusion, in that he could not turn his head--he had to turn his torso to look to the side. He had a quiet manner. This was his patch and he began telling me about the various bird types that they had found in these fields there earlier in the season. A very nice man that was easy to speak with. So then we all stood there on the side of the road chatting-away with each other and the wife, and the farmer strolls across the road, with his hands in his pockets and just then an auto zipped by...he said, "Ja, they'll ride you flat here free of charge". Oh dear, I laughed so hard. Then he urged us back across the road and we went to the tractor that he had come riding up on. There; hitched behind it, was a very small and narrow wagon with loose side rails inside and along the sides. They were fashioned out of pieces of gate and in the little wagon-like thing, were two bales of hay lying end-to-end. Yep, that's right--to sit on. Was this going to be work, or was it to be a hayride?! The leader hurried and hopped up on the tractor. I think that he expected a seat beside the farmer. There was no second seat, and so he shifted this way and that, trying to be comfortable and stable. We lesser beings sat down on the hay bales below and behind the tractor. In fact, this was far better because the leader wasn't actually sitting, he was more like "perched", precariously leaning at the most uncomfortable of angles and as we entered the field, he was tossed back and forth like a buzzard on the distal tip of a willow branch. I smiled. Well, we rolled and jostled into the field in grass that was at least knee deep and would have been murder to walk through. I believe that the farmer remarked that it was "English Rye" that would be used for hay. In fact, that is why we were there-- to check the field once; before the mowing would commence, to evaluate if some chicks or nests would have to be re-located. The old farmer sat up there chatting-away with the leader while we in the back bounced and swayed as we rolled over the soft and lumpy field. The other team member that came along was someone who had been to these fields before, and he said that two weeks ago the rye had been up to the top of his shoes and that it was all soppy ground, which required wellies to walk there. The ground was much harder today, albeit very bumpy. I tried to envision how the soil would look without the rye. We rode around the edges of each field to be checked in turn, looking of birds to fly-up. Nothing. We rode along the canals that separated the fields and now and then se saw what looked like a peregrine falcon gliding back and forth in the distance. The farmer pointed to a small clump of trees in the distance, and said that they nested there. We would stop now and then to walk about and look with our binocs chat and then go further. On one occasion, we stopped to have a look at a large scattering of whitish feathers. we stopped and examined closer--it was the wings and breast cartilage of a female mallard duck. I suspect that one of peregrines had taken her. Finally it was apparent that there were going to be no birds to count, so we headed back, swaying and laughing sneezing and coughing from all the grass pollen being thrown-up by the great wheels of the tractor in front. I could feel a rough layer of pollen on the soft and hard pallets of my mouth. My nose and eyes itched, but that was about all. I came through it ok, but some had real trouble. My bride had exceedingly red and tearing eyes and somehow managed a cough or two in-between the frequent sneezing. She was a sight--with the sneezes, streaming red eyes and a huge smile . She was having fun. The other two guys only sneezed a time or two. Of course the leader was not bothered too much at all on his high perch. I can even now, as I type hear the continued occasional sneeze coming fromthe living room. When we got back, the farmer took us to show us his assembly of equipment and in that great hall we discussed the problems of the world as well as the impressive equipment. The equipment belonged to his son, as he had retired. As we were leaving we were thanking him for the "comfortable" ride on the hay bales and he asked if we needed more hay for our strawbs (we had discussed gardening) and we said no that we already had the strawbs tucked-in nicely...and he suggested for next year,then. In the end, we took it with great thanks. I flipped the bale into the back of our little yellow auto and thanked him again. --Unusual behaviour for a farmer here. Giving. They say that farmers do not get rich from what they sell, but rather from what they don't give away. The farmer had to go to a birthday party (for which he was already a half an hour too late--he just could not stop chatting), so he excused himself and the other member who had come from Monnickendam on the bike pushed-off. We stayed with the leader and talked "bird conservation" and various the techniques of what we do. It was almost dark when we parted ways and the bride and I headed on back home.-- a failure of a day in terms of alarm telling, but the experience of the hay ride and the conversation with that character of a farmer got full marks. My partner remarked that it was possible the most fun day that she had had since beginning the bird conservation. Addendum: I realize that I have been taking mick out of our leader/field worker...making sarky comments and implying that he was some sort of haughty egotistical leader--but nothing could be further from the truth. We get along quite well together and our region is in fact quite lucky to have such a committed field worker. Here then, a foto of him checking the field layout. Ladies and gentlemen.....a drumroll pease......
What an interesting trip you took us all on--thank you! I love your "hay ride". Nothing like bumping across a field, breathing dust and pollen, and wondering when (not if) you were going to fall off! We do bird counts in our pasture, but without any of the drama of yours.
Hahaha, I would have loved to meet that farmer! He sounds like a character I'd really appreciate to meet. I don't like too ordinary people you know. The hay ride looked like fun but I can feel the bumps... Ouch! How nice of him to drive you all, though. That was a huge plot of land to walk across.
Thanks MG--Yes, this was quite an unusual experience for us as well. Usually it is all footwork. The farmer predicted correctly that we would find no birds in the fields. It was a lot of fun, CHERYL--pity that there were no birds to count, but on the other hand perhaps they all made it into adulthood and have flown away to a safer field. Thanks HANK--Glad that you enjoyed this posting. Well DROOPY--I have no doubt at all that you would get along famously with that crusty farmer. He was quite a character, and unusual. You are right it was an enormous acerage to traverse. If we had had to walk it it would have been really tiring, as grass that high really created a great deal of resistance with every step.
Thanks for the exciting trip. It reminded me of my younger days in the rice fields cataching fighting fish and every now and then watercocks would just fly out just a couple of feet away. Nowadays no more rice fields, fighting fish to catch or being startled by watercocks.
Hi Sjoerd, you had an interesting tour of the land,..shame there were no birds but the whole experience was something to remember,..your farmer sounds like some here,..full of surprises,..i hope that straw worked as a good cushion, .
Thanks KAY--sweet of you to say so. I am glad that you liked the posting, KK--You had some good memories. Cor--fancy catching beta's in a sawa. That is exotic. I have trapsed around many sawa's, but never seen bets's or watercocks. What great experiences you had. PHILIP--Yes, that was an interesting and enjoyable tour that we had. I was quite disappointed, but when the farmer told us that he did not expect to see any, I already knew what time it was. When a farmer tells you something about his land, that is exactly the way it will be. That straw worked very well as a cushion. I have the idea that he has done this before--like for his grandkids.
Thanks CRIS--He was indeed quite a character. He was an informed and intelligent man, actually--which his demeanor and dress did not immediately imply.
hey sjoerd, great post!!! and you are right on about a farmer knowing his land! hubs here knows every single minute detail of what is happening on our farm, inside and out! and as far as farmers being quite the characters, that's so so very true! all our farming friends are just as you described, and probably close to that age! even hubs, a gentle 68 yeats of age, is all of what you described!
Glad that you liked the posting, Bunkie. Yes, I know about farmers, I come from a family of them. If your man is just like I described, he must keep you in stiches all the time....very healthy, laughing.
Most of the young people don't know about about baling small bales of hay.Like Dh and I use to help on our Grand parents farms. No a days BIG bales-One would fill our truck bed.Farmer friend put one in our bed to mulch veggy garden.
