It is said that the era of the chariot is over in Ireland. The chariot belongs to the time of Cú Chulainn. You will not see a chariot in Ireland now; we are too sophisticated driving around in our Audis and Beamers. I don’t know. I see many chariots on the roads at this time of year. The sun comes out and then they appear like magic – tractors!
Yes, I am convinced that the tractor is the modern Gael’s chariot. Every time I see one burping down the road, I think of RS Thomas and his lovely lines:
“Ah, you should see Cynddylan on a tractor.
Gone the old look that yoked him to the soil;
He’s a new man now, part of the machine,
His nerves of metal and his blood oil.
The clutch curses, but the gears obey
His least bidding, and lo, he’s away
Out of the farmyard, scattering hens.”
Of course, it is not Cynddylan who is to be seen driving in this part of the world but Seán or Paddy or Sammy or Billy. Even so, they are kith and kin and all are proud of the metal chariot which they navigate along the roads and lanes of Ireland.
Astounding
Of course, just like war chariots of old, you should not tarry in front of a tractor. It is true that tractors do not have spears tied to their wheels that would cause you death and injury. However, they do sport some astounding mechanical features that would put you in mind of those huge lumbering tanks of the Great War. Indeed, were you to gather all the tractors of Ireland together, I think you would have a force that would frighten Genghis Khan himself.
French farmers are great ones for massed tractor movements. I bet Napoleon would have won at Waterloo if he had a regiment of tractors!
Work
At this time of year, however, the tractors go to war in the fields. You do not see them too often in winter as the ground is too boggy with the wet and the rain. But there are some dry spells now. There is some sort of heat. The grass is growing. There is work to be done in the fields and here comes the tractor: one; two; three.
Here they come and warriors driving them.
It does not matter if the driver is young or old, they all drive them with the same imperious air of an all-conquering warlord: “Move aside, peasant! There are lands to be tamed! Move aside! Tonight, I take Lisnabilla!”
It will not be long before the silage men arrive in their war chariots. It will not be long until the grass is long enough and dry enough to be cut. The silage men are the men for the job. The silage men will scythe the green grass in their metal fortresses.
No blade will be left untouched and the smell, that lovely, lovely, smell of acres of fresh-cut grass will fill the countryside.
Giant
Traditionally, they worked from dusk to dawn but I have seen them carry on well into the night, their tractors fitted with powerful headlights as they criss-cross the fields and harvest the green grass fruit. It is like a scene from a science-fiction movie – giant, unstoppable machines moving across the face of the earth.
This is the time of year when knowing eyes will be turned to the fields. Prophets will examine the clouds and study the sun. Many road-side conversations will be held, brief, knowing talks: “Well?” A nod, a shrug: “Let’s make a start while we can.”
How many cuts will the farmers get? One at least. Usually two. And, if God is good, a third. Cut the grass, cart it away, store it. There is money and feeding in it.
Song
Massey Fergusons are the most common tractors I notice in this part of the world. I did see a John Deere the other day. I don’t think that the Massey Ferguson is mentioned in a song but Nanci Griffith sings of the John Deere in the heart-wrenching
Trouble in the Fields
, a song about the Great Depression: “But if we sell that new John Deere/And then we’ll work these crops with sweat and tears./You’ll be the mule I’ll be the plow./Come harvest time we’ll work it out.”
There, you see? The humble tractor inspires both poetry and song.
All hail the tractor!