Technology Comes To The Farm
By Dr. W. David Currie

Although a professor and editor, this old man prefers the moniker “farmer.”  Leaving Ontario Agriculture College in ‘82 with sheepskin in hand, your bard continued farming the old-fashioned way.  With pride he wears his Antique Farmer shirt and with relish he listens to stories of the old-timers around the woodstove at the corner general store.  A newcomer of only 7 or 8 years, but welcomed by the community, your penman knows much of the history of his new home.  From a handful of revolutionary soldiers to this day, the small rural community remains isolated from the mainstream.  A tourist stopping at the corner store once called out, “Which way to the highway?”   To which we responded, “Which highway?”  Poor tourist responded, “Any highway!” 

It is not unusual to see my neighbors transporting cattle in old school buses.  Mechanical conveyances have a rich history in the community.  The first auto was regularly used to chase loose cattle back inside fences, and I am told it was often seen lopsided against fence posts (the car, not the cow).  While blasting a hilltop for our new home, a neighbor excitedly related how (years ago, of course) he had hung a stick of dynamite in a bush and watched it explode from 50 feet away.  “Oooh, the airborne shockwave pressed the air out of our lungs,” he gleefully whispered.  And the technology wave continues racing forward, with us clinging along for the ride. 

My tractors are 50’s models in good running order.  Neither air-conditioned cabs, nor radios, nor stock headlights, but each equipped with “armstrong” steering.  I firmly believe that when driving a real tractor, the only thing separating a farmer from the breeze in the field should be his clothing.  In fact, a real farmer will lift himself from his very deathbed at the prospect of driving just one more tractor. 

As old-fashioned as I am, as my farming buddies have engendered computer technology, I have remained open-minded.  With what joy we baled hay while deciphering a computer operated Czechoslovakian round baler without a manual; uselessly strewing behind us hundreds upon thousands of feet of twine as we went.  We felt like middle-aged college boys strewing toilet paper in the front tree at our favorite sweetie’s house. 

Just weeks ago, my trusting neighbor placed me at the wheel of his brand new, fully computerized tractor.  As I gently eased the high dollar agricultural device across the threshold to the barn, a tire bumped over a piece of six by six; one expensive computer, and the tractor to which it happened to be attached, immediately and completely ceased to function.  This is certainly not to say that all tractor-based computer equipment is unreliable.  And so here I would close with the tale of my cousin. 

My cousin likes computers in his tractors.  Until this week, he had to take the computer out of the tractor and bring it into the house every night, for his tractor was without cab.  But this week, he purchased an air-conditioned, computerized behemoth with power everything.  He boasted of the pushbutton hitch that raises equipment (for example, a plow) at the end of each row and then lowers the equipment back to exactly the same depth at the start of the next row.  An excellent feature, I noted, if one has an excess of flatland; here in the Appalachians, we suffer a shortage of flat.  As Cousin rounded the first bend at the end of the field, he pushed the magic button and his plow rose from the earth.  But as Cousin proceeded back where the second row should have appeared, yon plow remained proudly elevated behind the high dollar behemoth.  The magical button had somehow forgotten to lower the plow back to earth.

Wanting Cous’ to feel better about his extraordinarily high dollar purchase, a neighbor suggested he use it to set (plant) some tobacco.  With boxes of tobacco seedlings in tow, Cousin headed into the fields.  Unfortunately, from within the air-conditioned computerized cab, Cousin was unable to hear his helpers yelling at him to stop as they had forgotten to fill the water tank on the tobacco setter.  But as he drove off into the field he did appear to be enjoying the stereo system.