Silo Is A Four-Letter Word

Across the Fence #229

My story, "Silo Philosophy 101 Revisited," stirred some memories in my brothers and others who have spent time in silos. Maybe it brought some back for you too. It appears that most memories are not of the warm, fuzzy variety. Silo is a four-letter word for many people.

I had an interesting note from one lady who shall remain anonymous. She told me, "We too had a silo on the farm, but instead of going inside, which we occasionally did to catch pigeons, my cousin and I would climb up the staves on the outside of the silo. If my grandma had known, she'd have had a heart attack many years earlier."

Talk about having no fear, or being crazy. I'm not sure which category I should file that in. Maybe both! She was much braver and adventuresome on the outside of the silo than I was. I think we'd climb up about ten feet and decide it was high enough. Besides, if Dad had caught us climbing up the silo, falling off would have been the preferred outcome.

The tobacco shed was another story. I never had any fear climbing around in the shed and walking on the poles. Which brings up another silo story. One "adventurous" man told how he would walk around the rim on the top layer of blocks when the silo was filled to the top. That seemed a bit foolhardy too. Granted it wouldn't be far to fall to the inside, but it's a long way down if you fell to the outside.

The more stories I hear about the adventures and misadventures of young farm boys and girls, it's a wonder that any of us made it into adulthood, let alone in one piece. No wonder parents turn gray.

My brother, David, reminded me how tough it was to throw down silage in the winter. His memories triggered similar images in my mind. He mentioned busting chunks of frozen silage from the sides of the silo with a pick axe, and lifting them with all his might over to the silo door. Then throwing them through the little door and hearing them go 'clunk, clunk, clunk' down the chute. He didn't remember any deep thinking up in the silo. He said, "Just me, the pick axe, the pitch fork, and the sweet smell of frozen silage. Oh, and dad would holler up once in a while and say, 'Are you still alive up there?' Then he's tell me to bust up the chunks into smaller pieces. No deep thinking required, and I doubt I used more than a couple percent of my brain."

David's thoughts about frozen silage made me remember the clanking sound and how sparks would fly when we'd accidentally hit the side of the silo bricks as we tried to break the frozen silage free. Those frozen walls of silage were often six inches to a foot thick. If you didn't keep breaking them loose as you went, they could get too tall. If they broke loose and fell, there was a possibility of a big chunk falling on you. I wonder if anyone was ever killed by a falling chunk of silage?

My brother, Arden, also had some memories about silos being a four-letter word. He said, "You forgot the part about leveling off the silage for hours when the temperature of the heating silage would reach 120 degrees, or fixing the silo unloader in the dark with a flashlight in your mouth, usually when it was 10 or 12 degrees below zero, and your toes and fingers were completely numb with cold. I think my brain was either fried or frozen. The only deep thinking I used to do was, 'what the h... am I doing in here.'" Imagine that's how most of you felt about it.

Arden is younger than me, and the silo unloader was installed after I was gone from the farm. Remember, I'm from the dark ages when WE were the silo unloaders, armed only with a silo fork and pick axe! His experiences in dealing with a cantankerous silo unloader were different from mine. But either way, you still had to crawl up the long chute to get into the silo and work on the problem. And... it was usually dark and cold when you were working in the silo, just like Arden said. All things considered, I think it was probably easier to deal with a fork and pick axe. Not too many things could go wrong with them.

With all the things that could go wrong with unloaders, coupled with the expense of a huge silo, is it any wonder that farmers build bunkers and use bags these days?

One more thing came to light as we were talking about silos. It was the use of snow fences when regular silos were full. We built a snow fence silo between the silos and the front door of the barn. As I recall, we built it three snow fences high. We'd fill the first layer, then stack the next one on top of that, then the third layer, and keep filling it. We covered it with plastic when it was full. You don't see any snow fence silos around these days. Times change.

Most silos now stand empty. Only the echoes of the past can be heard in them. If you could hear those voices, they'd probably be saying, "Ya... silo is a four-letter word."

Keeping You Posted

I said I would keep you posted on anything new in deer sightings. Tonight at 7:30 we looked out the windows of our four season room, and saw two deer in our backyard. I looked around and saw three more! There were five deer. What a welcome sight after not seeing any since last fall. They hung around in the yard and cornfield bordering the yard for about fifteen minutes before finally heading back down the lane and jumped over the fence into McClurg's corn field. I watched them for about half hour until it got dark and they wandered off into the dusk.  They must have heard I was afraid they had all died and decided to make a grand appearance for us. It was a great sight and I'm glad to be sharing the land with them, even though they'll probably eat up  any garden we plant this year. 

Then just as the deer left the yard, two rabbits made their appearance under the bird feeder. Looks like the Easter Bunnies are also alive and well and waiting for our garden. That should all make for some interesting stories this summer.

Spring Is In the Air

Across the Fence #228

This week I heard the wonderful sound of geese calling to each other as I was out walking one day. I looked up and caught sight of them. They were headed north; a welcome sign that spring is in the air. I think most of us have had enough of winter for this year.

I also spotted my first Robin of the year during that same walk. It was nice to see him hopping about, stopping to listen with his head bent to the side, then moving to another spot. I stopped and watched for a while, not wanting to frighten him off. Eventually he must have "heard" a worm moving, and started pecking at the ground a couple of times before emerging with one in his beak. As I continued down Sherpe Road, the trees were alive with the sound of Robins. I counted over twenty of them singing to me as I stopped again to look around. This was no power walk to build up my heart rate. This was a walk to look, listen, smell, and experience the wonder of spring coming alive all around me.

I've got to admit, there's one smell that I don't care for; the smell of liquid manure coming alive with the first serious thaw in the spring. I never minded the "old-fashioned" manure smell, but the liquid variety is not my idea of the "sweet smell of spring."

One day I walked around our back forty and down by the pond. I was looking for deer tracks in the mud. There were none. Last spring a fawn was born in the trees next to our house, five deer frequented the fields and even our back yard all summer and fall. I haven't seen one deer since hunting season last fall. I wonder if the "kill a doe" before you can "kill a buck" system of hunting, along with two harsh winters in a row, has depleted the deer herd in many areas. I've talked to a lot of deer hunters who think the deer count is down because they haven't seen as many deer either. I'm still hoping to see deer in the fields again this spring. I'll keep you posted.

Another sign that spring is in the air is seeing the snow retreat farther and farther into the woods and making a last-ditch stand on the north-facing hills. For me, spring has finally arrived when the last holdout patch of dirty snow malts into the surrounding soil.

Spring is in the air when you start thinking about planting a garden. We were looking at seed packets in a store last week. There's something about looking at those packets that gives you a good feeling after a long winter. As I examined the many varieties of vegetables and flowers, my mind drifted back to the days when I was still in school. In FFA we sold seed as a fund-raising project. No friend of the family or relative was safe from a visit from us. My mother always bought a variety of seeds too.

We had a large garden east of the house. After Dad finished plowing and working the ground up, it was Ma who was in charge of the planting. I got to help. We used two broken tobacco lathes with a long string attached to make the rows straight. Then, depending on what we were planting, we dug small holes or long, shallow furrows about half an inch deep under the outstretched string. Each packet had directions on how thick to plant the seeds. Ma didn't look at the directions. She knew exactly how and where she wanted us to plant each vegetable. That was knowledge gained from many years of experience.

Potatoes from the previous year's harvest were brought up from the dark, damp cellar and cut up so each piece contained some "eyes." The eyes were the sprouts that would come alive and provide another crop of potatoes and the cycle of life would continue year after year.

Planting a garden was like a science to Ma and we followed her directions. When we were finished with a row, we covered the seed with soil and moved the stakes to the next row, leaving enough space between them to walk. At the end of each row, or where a new seed was started, we put a stick in the ground and slipped the empty packet over it so we'd know what we had planted in that row.

We planted carrots, tomatoes, string beans, peas, cucumbers, radishes, lettuce, cabbage, beets, potatoes, and many more that I've probably forgotten. We never planted sweet corn that I remember. We just plucked off some early ears of field corn. Some years we planted pumpkins too, but they seemed to invade the other parts of the garden.

I liked to wander into the garden once the vegetables started growing and pull an onion or radish from the ground, wipe off most of the dirt, and eat it. Those are still the best onions. I also loved to snap off the pea pods, pry them open, and pop the fresh peas into my mouth... straight from the garden. It doesn't get any better then that. Thoughts of spring bring back those memories.

Tonight as I sit here writing, the March wind is howling outside and rain is pelting against the windows. At least it isn't snow. Yes indeed, spring is definitely in the air!

Silo Philosophy 101 Revisited

Across the Fence #227

One of my teachers, while I was in high school and doing my silo philosophy thinking, was Ken Trott. He's always been one of my favorite teachers. Now that I'm older, and hopefully a little wiser, I'm glad to have him as a friend. I was a student in his Civics class as a freshman. My silo philosophy started when he conducted a mock trial and I was on the jury. We learned to think and look at subjects from more than one side and listened to both sides present their evidence and arguments, and then we had to come up with a verdicts. Mr. Trott told me recently, that he still has the notebook where I kept notes for that trial.

I credit that class with opening up my mind and teaching me to not blindly accept everything that I hear or read. We all need to examine the evidence, ask questions, and then come up with a conclusion based on what we have found.

I carried that way of examining things up into the silo with me as I threw down silage for the cows each evening after school. What better place is there, than an old silo, to ponder the great mysteries of the universe?

Today it's hard to find a working silo. Most silage and haylage is now stored in concrete bunkers or those big, long, white "worms" that you see on most farms. Real silos stand empty and unused on many farms. Sometimes you see a lonely silo standing, but the barn and other buildings are gone.

Let me tell you, a lot of deep thinking took place in our silos. There within the concrete block wall that surrounded me, I was alone with my thoughts. It was a great place for uninterrupted thinking. Just as the walls of the silo were round, with no beginning and no end, the thoughts running through my mind were also without end. I always refer to this as my "silo philosophy period." As I loosened the silage with the fork and threw it down the chute, I also loosened the thoughts churning around in my mind. It was the genesis of the way I still look at many things today. The ideas that germinated in Mr. Trott's class were like stones thrown into the water. They caused ripples in my mind that began expanding as I tried to find answers to life's mysteries while working in that silo.

Many of the ideas I came up with, in answer to the things I pondered, seemed very far-fetched back in the late 1950's and early 60's. It was only in the mid-1920's, a mere 20 years before I was born, that the famous astronomer, Edwin Hubble, showed us that other galaxies exist beyond the Milky Way. Before that time, our universe seemed pretty small, compared to what we know about it today. Some astronomers have estimated that our Milky Way Galaxy contains up to a trillion stars. What if each star had only one planet revolving around it? That's a lot of potential for some type of life to exist, besides on earth, just in our own galaxy.

Even in my silo philosophy days, I thought there must be other life forms out there some place. Now we know there isn't just one galaxy. Astronomers estimate that over 100 billion galaxies are accessible to earthbound and orbiting telescopes today. The number of stars and planets within all those galaxies is mind-boggling and many of them must have the potential for life. Those are pretty good odds, even if you're not a betting person.

Back in my silo philosophy days, I even came up with the hair-brained idea that maybe our universe is next to another universe and if we could get to the end of ours and cross over, we would enter another world. Now astronomers and others are talking about the possibility of parallel universes. Maybe that silo philosophy thinking of mine wasn't as crazy as I thought at the time.

A also wondered about dreams, because some of them seemed very real and I often encountered people that I'd never seen before and places that were strange to me. I wondered if the dream state was actually our mind entering another universe or perhaps revisiting an earlier life. It's an out of body trip to another world we can enter with our mind. Perhaps life and death is as simple as that. We continue on to another life and dimension, leaving our old body behind. Call it life after death. Most religions of the world have the concept of some type of life after death. Even the Pagan Vikings were buried with objects that would accompany them to Valhalla in the afterlife.

I've always enjoyed stretching my mind and thinking to the limits and beyond. I've never been accused of accepting everything that's told to me as gospel. I like to think my old silo philosophy thinking days expanded my mind. After reading these thoughts, some of you will probably say the silo gases warped it! We all know those silo gases can kill you. I figure, what didn't kill me only made me stronger.

They say most people use only ten percent of their mind-power. That leaves a lot of exploring to do in the frontier of the mind. I plan to keep exploring.

Combine and Tractor Trail

Across the Fence #226

Trouble... there's trouble brewing, right here in river City. Anyone familiar with that song from The Music Man, will recognize the line. Well, let me tell you folks, there's trouble brewing right here in Vernon County too.

Even though this story pertains to Vernon County, it could happen in any of the communities in Wisconsin, Iowa, or Minnesota where "Across the Fence" runs.

The Native Americans of this area once had their land taken away from them. Oh, they were paid for it in some cases, but it was a paltry sum, and they didn't really have a choice. The government said, "Take what we offer, or we'll take it anyway." Things haven't changed much in the years since, except they offer more money now.

To the southwest of where I live, farmers near Genoa were in danger of losing their land because a company wanted to make an ash dump of their farms. Landowners are often at the mercy of large corporations and the government.

In the area between Viroqua and Westby, where I was raised and now live, there's also trouble brewing. A cold wind is blowing across the Coon Prairie. First it comes in the form of a questionable four-lane highway the state wants to build between the two communities. Everyone I talk to says it's not needed and that a couple of passing and turning lanes would do the trick with a lot less expense and loss of land. The government is telling the affected land owners to sell their land. They don't really have a choice. does that scenario sound familiar? Will Viroqua Township penalize the government for taking those acres out of farmland like they do landowners?

But it doesn't end there. A bike path (Multi-Use Trail aka MUT) will also be added alongside the highway. Under pressure, the flip-flopping County Board reversed their initial NO vote, and approved the trail. That action affects even more land, buildings, and trees. Now don't get me wrong. I have nothing against bikers, runners, and walkers. I've biked, run, and walked thousands of miles over the years. But doing them alongside a four-lane highway is not my idea of a peaceful experience.

I guess I should mention, this hits pretty close to home. The part of Sherpe Road near the highway will be affected by the extra lane expansion, and also by the MUT. All the wonderful trees lining the road that are habitat for deer, birds, and other critters, will be destroyed. Such is progress!??

All this got me thinking, which most of you know can be dangerous. It's hard to fight the government... federal, state, or local, so we might as well join them. The way I see it, this new super highway and adjoining Multi-Use Trail is going to make travel very dangerous for farm tractors and large combines. I suspect some group will soon form and get them banned from using the roads around here. In order to prevent that from happening, I think a new committee is needed. We'll propose to the county Board that a Combine and Tractor Trail (CAT), be built to insure the safety of everyone. Farmers still need to get around and this appears to be the only solution. There's one problem though. The farmers and other rural landowners feel enough of their land has already been stolen, so the new trail will have to go through the cities and towns.

I know what you're thinking, "This is nuts, we don't need a Combine and Tractor Trail through town when they have perfectly good roads to travel on. Just add some passing lanes and everyone will be happy. "Sorry, that's not how the government looks at it. That CAT Trail is needed. It's for the safety and betterment of many, at the expense of a few.

Granted, they'll have to run the trail through some city properties, but not to worry, the affected people will be compensated by the government for the loss of their land. It will only take small amounts of their lawns, the removal of trees here and there, and some businesses, but we don't want to stand in the way of progress, do we?!

The way I see it, the new CAT and MUT Trails, combined the the expanded Four-Lane Highway, will solve all our transportation and safety problems. I don't know why someone didn't think of it sooner. This gets the dangerous mix of fast-moving cars and trucks, slow-moving farm machinery, and bikers and walkers, separated onto their respective paths, trails, and highways. This could become the model for other communities throughout the country, and it all began right here in the heart of God's Country.

There's one slight problem though. I suspect there's going to be a real knock-down, drag-out, nasty CAT fight when the landowners in the affected communities get their government notices, informing them of the loss of land because of the new CAT Trail. People don't like being forced to sell their land, regardless of the reason.

There's one more safety issue that could be eliminated by this trail. I heard the County Board wants to outlaw the use of large, round bales. There's a danger of them rolling off a wagon, and  hitting a car or truck. Plus, they say the poor cows can't get a square meal from those round bales!

The Old Tin Cup and Sid

Across the fence #225

What does a rusted, old tin cup and a man named Sid have in common? They don't seem to go together, but in my mind they will always be connected. I just held that cup in my hands, turning it over and examining it inside and out. It's like countless other tin cups that now have their final resting place in landfills, dumps, and sink holes around the country. But this old cup holds a special place of honor on my shelf.

I had never met Sid Podell when I received this cup from him. He had read my story about the demise of old windmills and liked the story. He decided I should have the cup that used to hang on his windmill. Sid had a farm near Middleton when we lived in Madison. We got together for lunch and hit it off right away. He was a fascinating man and we became friends. I've mentioned him before in my columns. Sid died a couple weeks ago at the age of 88. The end came on swift wings and there was no time to say goodbye.

After our move to Westby, Sid and I exchanged many e-mails, in which we discussed the world around us, past, present, and future. One time he wrote: "Thanks for your new locator designation. Wishes for happiness in your new environment and activities. I think Sherpeland is the sort of area where Mary and I shall take a summer trip. We'll drive slowly down old-time country Sherpe Road for some cold well water to be drunk from a rusty old cup."

Another time we discussed farm fences. He replied: "As you have realized by now, I find myself constantly challenging the existing order of things, a result of being elderly. It is more compelling for me, than a youngster like you, to look back to the 'good old days.' Well Howard, I too remember the rural fences over which farmer neighbors held conversations. Since reading and enjoying your 'Across the Fence' articles, I have looked around Dane County for old farm fences. None exist. Plus, there are no bib overall clad farmers present, who like to take a little time off from chores to converse across a barbed wire fence with friends and neighbors, out there under the open skies."

We also had many discussions about the human cost of war. During World War II, Sid served in the Army Air Corps as a bombardier on B-29s in the South Pacific. As a combat veteran, he was very involved in Vets for Peace. After he read my cap story last year he wrote: "I presently wear a cap that displays the name of a meaningful peace organization called Vets for Peace. I hope it tells all who look, that I am a WWII combat vet who believes that all warfare is a useless human activity that produces only victims, no victors."

We talked about our war experiences, how they've influenced our thinking, and how we live our lives today as if every day could be our last. Sid flew fourteen combat missions over Japan. As bombardier, he was the one who aimed the bombs when they reached the target; he had armed the bombs earlier, and triggered the toggle switch to release them. Thirteen of those missions were cities, not military targets. That still bothered him. Just as an infantryman releases the bullet that finds its target, he was the one who released the bombs. That's a heavy cross to bear for everyone involved in war.

Another thing we had in common was our love of the writing of Jerry Apps. Sid wrote: "I went to Jerry Apps book reading as part of the Bookfaire event in Madison. I really like his novel 'In A Pickle' and his descriptions of the transformation of agricultural technology and life on the farm in days of yore. I've been driving up to the Vet's Home at King to see an old friend who lives there, and the route goes through Waushara County and the town of Wild Rose where he has relocated in the summertime, on some 65 acres of his old farm. Like you, he loves the land and takes his stand as just one of the creatures that can gain strength and an acceptable life style by living in harmony with plants and other creatures on a non-exploitive basis."

Sid's love of the land and all things on it, his gentleness, and his strong convictions, come through in that message.

Another friend, Bill, said he and Sid talked many times about death and dying. They both said they could "go any time" because they had good lives and had done everything they wanted. I think that's a pretty good attitude. It reminded me of a couple quotes I like, "Death is more universal than life; everyone dies, but not everyone lives." Mark Twain said, "The fear of death follows the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."

Sid is a friend who left footprints in the many lives he touched along the way. I'm sorry he never made it to "Sherpeland" to drink some cold well water from that old tin cup. This summer, I plan to sit on the back deck on a nice, warm day and raise that cup in a toast to a great man and friend.

Where Did I Put My Pencil?

Across the Fence #224

Bring back the days of using a pencil and paper. Our only problem was breaking the lead in our pencil. If that happened, we sharpened it again and were back in business. Ah, the good old days.

Now I have fancy computers that do everything for me. They write, draw, put my books together, send and receive e-mail, surf the web in search of the latest information around the world, calculate, compute, and a thousand more things. They also lock up, won't open, and won't let me access any of my stuff. All my information is stored is stored inside my little laptop computer. All my stories, the e-mail addresses of the papers I send them to, and Across the Fence stories I'm in the process of writing. It's all now imprisoned in that blasted piece of cantankerous hardware. give me a pencil and paper.

It all began on Monday afternoon. I received a notice that two updates were available. I downloaded them. For those of you who still rely on pencil and paper to do your writing and not computers, this is a routine procedure.

After the downloads were completed, I got the message to restart my computer. This is also routine. I waited while it went through the restart process. The Apple icon came up and the little circle of bars started going around... also routine. Then they kept going around and around and around, instead of the computer screen opening up... not routine. I gave it five minutes and finally shut down the computer, not the routine way, but using a last, desperate, we've got trouble here, shut down process. I restarted it, thinking it was just a small glitch. Wrong! The little circles went round and round and round, and I think my mind started spinning too. Now we were into the "Uff da" mode. After several more failed attempts, we entered the "mild panic" mode, soon followed by "Oh shoot, we've got serious troubles here" mode.

I began to have visions of all my stuff being trapped, like a miner in a collapsed mineshaft, never to see the light of day again. Now we were entering "Major Uff da" mode. Why hadn't I backed up all my files every day like I'm sure all of you do? OK, I hear you. I'm not alone in this. "Major Uff da" mode could happen to you too. The majority of us are lax in backing up. Ah, the good old days when backing up meant backing up a tractor and wagon.

I began to fear that I had hardware problems and would lose all my software. Again I longed for the good old days when hardware meant a trip to Flugstad and Foss Hardware Store in Westby, and software was wearing a pair of bib overalls that had been broken in and no longer made that swishing sound when you walked, as stiff, new fabric rubbed together. Now those terms refer to some mysterious, internal stuff in my computer that I know nothing about.

I decided to let my computer sleep for the night. Hopefully it would awaken all refreshed when I tried rebooting it in the morning. No such luck. I wanted to put my boot up its hard drive at that point. I had entered the "Give me a simple pencil and piece of paper" mental state.

Tuesday evening is when I send my column to all the papers for the following week. My story was trapped in that mine shaft along with all the e-mail addresses I needed. I was now in "Double Trouble Uff da" mode. 

Luckily, Dale, our MAC computer expert at work, was able to use a fire wire (another mysterious computer word) and gained access to my computer. He transferred files from my personal computer to another computer. At least I was then able to send my Across the Fence column using my work computer.

To make a long, stressful, uff da, story short, it was Friday before we were able to open the mineshaft and rescue the contents of my computer. In the process, I had to reinstall my operating system and all my programs, but at least I didn't lose any files. All the miners were rescued alive and well. There are still some minor repairs to be done. But, now I have everything backed up in case it crashes again.

I was glad to see last week come to an end. Even at work, it seemed that every time I turned around, something was going wrong or someone had a problem that needed attention. When my old buddy, Big Lee, called from sunny California over the weekend, we were in the middle of another snowstorm. He was basking in the sun in his lawn chair and drinking coffee. I could almost hear him grinning as I related all my computer "troubles" and the psychotic state of mind I found myself in, up here in the frozen tundra.

Computers will do that to your mind, when they cross over to the dark side. Pencils never had that affect on me. But, this is another week; my computer has risen from the dead and is back among the living. Life is good. Put the pencils and paper back in the drawer. I won't need them after all. My computer lives... at least for the moment.