Let me get my bearings
Nov 24, 2008 4:14 PM
As I made my way across a field of raked cornstalks with the baler a couple of weeks ago, it was going quite well. The stalks were bone dry, the wind was quite brisk and I was getting a bale made, wrapped and dumped every 69 seconds. This was productivity at its finest. I was about halfway across the field and had about half the raked portion of the field left to bale. This year my goal was to make 600 bales to use as feed for my beef cows and bedding for my feedlot cattle over the winter. My bale counter showed I had just made my 530th bale of stalks. The end was literally in sight just 10 or 12 rounds away.
Then my baler suddenly stopped. When this happens, it can mean a couple of different things. The big drive chain running from top to bottom on the side of the baler could be busted, which would cease all operations. We had just replaced it the day before, though, and normally get at least 500 to 1,000 bales out of a new chain before replacing it. This one had less than a hundred bales on it, so that shouldn't be the problem. I shut the PTO off and then quickly flicked it on again to see if the pickup attachment moved, indicating a rock may have gotten stuck in it. No movement whatsoever. A rock will at least make it flex a little bit. That was not good. It left the other major potential problem. A bearing on a roll may have gone out.
I hopped out of the cab and was immediately greeted by the smell of scorched rubber. Sure enough, a bearing had gone out and a roll had busted. So close to being done, and rain in the forecast for the next day, and now I had to make another trip to Decorah to get the bearing fixed.
Small problem, though. There was smoke coming from the baler. It started as a small wisp as I got out of the tractor, but it grew to cloud quality in seconds. It was also accompanied by an orange glow in the bale chamber.
FIRE!!!!!!!
I did some quick mental math. I was in the middle of the field, with a 20- to 30-mph south wind, with dozens of other bales scattered across the field. All I could think of was the flames reaching the windrow, thereby lighting a multiple-mile fuse of neatly arranged stalks, or getting blown to the other bales in the field, each of which would be a mini-mushroom cloud as they ignited.
I had an idea. Why not drive the baler up to the road, thereby making it easier to access for the fire trucks? That would keep the fire out of my field, keep my bales from burning or getting soaked with water from a fire truck, and if all else failed, the road would maybe provide a buffer zone to fight the fire. Plus, worst-case scenario, the wind would at least blow the flames across the road into another guy's field.
Ladies and gentleman, I believe it was the great philosopher David Letterman who said, “There is no OFF position on the genius switch!”
All the while this is going on, I was on my phone trying to contact Guy No. 1, who was at the other end of the field in the combine . . . with the fire extinguishers. First call, no answer. Second call, no answer. Third call, no answer. Fourth call, no answer. Then he started heading my way in a big hurry. I was near the road by then and began to calmly and routinely unhook the baler, disconnecting the hydraulic hoses, the PTO, the hitch pin and all the other cables on the baler. The flames weren’t that bad yet, but I could tell it wasn't going to be good. We got the fire extinguisher and sprayed the flaming area of the baler. It had zero effect and the fire wasn't very big at all. That’s when Guy No. 1 and I had a very calm, quickie board meeting and decided I should be the one to call 911. He’s not a talker. That’s putting it mildly.
A few minutes later, we could hear sirens and saw lots and lots of flashing lights coming from the west. At the peak of the inferno, I decided to whip out my cell phone and snag a keepsake photo for posterity. The top photo was taken within a minute of when I had unhooked from the baler. All I heard afterwards was, “You took the time to jack it up and unhook everything! Ya didn’t just pull the pin and drive away?”
No. That would be irresponsible.
Altogether, I believe six trucks showed up for the event. They got the fire out and hosed down the bale I had kicked out of the bale chamber when I got near the road. A couple trucks drove down into the field and a couple of them stayed on the road. One, incidentally, showed up late and came from a different direction. The guys got out of the truck and immediately began swearing at their GPS unit. (I had given the 911 dispatcher the two numbers of the street and avenue at the intersection where the fire was located in the field, because it wasn’t close to any of our building sites.) This particular truck apparently has a Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong GPS unit to give them directions when there’s no name or building address involved.
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