Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, May 1, 1990 TAG: 9005010026
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: B1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: ED SHAMY STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: OTTER HILL LENGTH: Long
Turner dropped a sliver of soil into his palm and clenched his fist. When he re-opened his hand, the red clay was clumped into a tight spiny oblong.
"You can't plant in that. It looks dry on top, but it isn't," he said.
To be sure, farmers or gardeners who try to work Virginia's red clay before its time will pay dearly later. The heavy soil clods as hard as bricks.
And so, week before last, Ray Turner could do little more than wait and tend to other chores.
The fields on his Bedford County dairy farm were ready for planting, and bags of corn seed were piled high in a shed. Turner and his two sons had hoped to start planting the corn three weeks ago, but damp soil stopped them.
"Last year, I was planting corn on April 10," says Ray's son, Jimmy. "The rain didn't start until late April."
This year was different from last, and next year will be different from this. Weather dictates much of the schedule on the farm.
Though they wouldn't be able to start planting until April 20 this season - 10 days later than last year - the Turners' planting preparations began on schedule.
On Friday, April 13, Billy Turner filled a borrowed tanker trunk with paraquat, atrazine, Ambush pesticide, liquid nitrogen and a surfactant.
The paraquat would kill the rye; the atrazine would kill weeds before they emerge; the Ambush would kill army worm in the soil; the liquid nitrogen would fertilize corn; and the surfactant would prevent the chemicals from beading up and spread them evenly.
Even before planting a single seed of corn, the Turners had invested $77 per acre in pesticides and herbicides.
On the Turner farm, only Billy has the license required in Virginia to buy and to apply the highly toxic chemicals. Every three years, he must pass a written test to retain his pesticide applicator's license.
"I don't like to be around this stuff. I'd rather not fool with it at all," says Billy, wrinkling his nose.
But "army worm can wipe out an entire cornfield overnight," he said. And weeds can eat into the yield of any crop.
Billy sprays the chemicals in one pass over fields of thick, lush rye. The grain was planted last fall to prevent erosion of bare soil through the winter. Within days, the rye is dead, still standing but turned brittle and yellow.
Finally, on April 20, all the conditions were suitable for planting and the Turners planted the first of their 350 acres of corn. A day later, rain showers halted the planting.
Poets, novelists and songwriters have long romanticized spring planting, but on the farm it is performed without emotion or reverence. If anything, planting corn is, for the Turners, a monotonous and slow task.
Last week, when temperatures vaulted into the 90s, the Turners went full throttle.
Jimmy Turner does much of the planting, driving a tractor row after row, acre upon acre. He must watch the soil closely at the bottom of the dead rye stalks, to gauge his location on the field and to make sure he doesn't pass the planter twice over the same row.
He is seeding one corn plant every 7 inches. The rows are 30 inches apart.
Jimmy planted all day on Monday; from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. on Tuesday.
He began an hour earlier on Wednesday. Toward midday, Jimmy's tractor was straining up a slope, and Billy was shielding his eyes against the sun, watching.
"You better not fall asleep," said Billy. "You're poking along, staring at nothing but yellow rye, it's hard to pay attention. It'll tell the tale when that corn comes up."
Some rows are doubled; some are missed altogether. Paying the price of tedium is unavoidable.
"It is monotonous, I can tell you that," says Jimmy when he turns off the tractor and rests.
By the end of the third day, plodding along at four acres per hour, Jimmy had planted 125 acres of corn. The planted steadily through the week and through the weekend.
As of Monday, the Turners had planted 275 acres and now the end is in sight. They hope to put the planter in the machine shed by Thursday.
To pause now, before the job is done, would be to tinker with an unforgiving seasonal schedule.
Later this week, there will be hay to mow. The cut grasses will have to be raked, baled and stored in barns before it overripens and loses much of its value as cattle feed.
Immediately after the haying, there is barley that will have to be chopped and loaded into silos.
The young corn, already poking its first leaves through the soil on some fields, will need a jolt of June fertilizer. Then there will be winter wheat to harvest, more hay to mow, and finally, early corn to harvest.
The Turners plant different varieties of corn that will mature at different times in the fall, spreading the workload for the three men and any help they can find. Some will be ready in 90 days, others are 100- and 120-day varieties. None is for human consumption.
Some of the corn kernels will be stripped from the cobs and fed to dairy cows for protein. The rest of the corn will be shredded and chopped - stalks, leaves and all - and stored in the silo, also for cow feed that's rich in roughage.
The two towering concrete silos on the farm still have plenty of feed - last year's crop - for cows and calves. The containers are never empty because the schedule never slackens.
by CNB