Georgia gets all the credit in story and song about their clay, and I have to admit, I’m a little bit jealous. Because here in Virginia, we’re no slackers in the clay department. We’re famous for a few things – peanuts, ham and Dave Matthews for instance – but I don’t think we get enough credit for our mud.
I think we do mud better than anyone. Our geological clayey soils, combined with our management practices make for a wintertime tradition here in Virginia, feeding hay in the mud.
As grass-finishers and active grassland managers, we would never participate in this ritual. Except this year.
We brought all our animals back to the house for their fall health checks, and it rained. And it sleeted. And it snowed. Followed by more rain.
The cows are stuck here at the house until the ground dries up enough to get them hauled back out. We can easily get them loaded here at the house, but we don’t have graveled loading and off-loading facilities at our rental farms. And as annoying as it is to be feeding hay in knee-deep mud, it’s nothing compared to getting a truckload of cattle stuck in the mud.
So the girls are here at the house, and they’re pretty unhappy. And we’re not too happy about it. But until the ground either dries, or freezes solid, we’re stuck with it.