HERD IMMUNITY: We need to talk about slurry

"If you’re a city-dweller or even a culchie of a squeamish disposition, you may want to stop reading now."

So, my rain dance finally produced results, writes Sean Deere. After a couple of months of drought-like conditions, last week saw isolated showers – drizzle mainly – before the weather broke at the weekend.

At Deere Manor, we got a good spill on Sunday afternoon before a deluge came in the early hours of Monday morning. Needless to say, it was badly needed. Thankfully, weather forecasts are so accurate these days that we can plan a week or so ahead and that was the case this time around.

So, with rain in the forecast and ground conditions excellent, I decided last week I would spread the last of my slurry. I had some paddocks grazed off and they hadn’t got slurry in a while as they can tend to be wet in the spring time.

If you’re a city-dweller or even a culchie of a squeamish disposition, you may want to stop reading now. Slurry, by its very nature, is a dirty business. But it’s got to be done…

So I put on the mixer and started to agitate the tank. After giving it 20 to 30 minutes to allow any fumes escape, I took a look into the tank and the slurry was flowing freely around. So much so, in fact, that I had a brainwave - I’d give Frank (the contractor whom you should remember from previous columns) a bell and get him to do it with the dribble bar.

Frank, busy as always, wasn’t one bit pleased. “What’s wrong with your own tanker, Sean?” he demanded.

“Feck the bit of need of the dribble bar and ground as bare as me head!”

(Editor’s note: Poor Frank is as bald as an egg since he was in his mid-20s, although he usually covers this up by donning a fetching baseball cap.)

As I expected, this was a rather unenthusiastic response but I persevered and pushed him a little more.

“Is it thin enough?” he queried.

“Jaysus, this thick slurry is a nightmare, could be more hassle than it’s worth Sean. I’ll send young Frank up with the big tanker to you, it’ll be just as handy.”

“No, no, Frank,” I replied, “I want it done with the dribble bar. It’s as thin as water, it will be no hassle.” Sensing further resistance, I then decided to poke the bear.

“Sure look, if ya haven’t time I’ll give Bernard O’Brien a shout…”

At this point, I should explain that Bernard is an up-and-coming contractor in the area, a young whippersnapper mad for work and a thorn in Frank’s side. My ploy worked.

“Ah, sure wait a minute, Sean. You didn’t see me stuck the last few weeks, sure I’ll run over after lunch and we’ll do it,” he said, suddenly softening.

Bingo! Sure enough, Frank duly arrived and in a few hours he had the tank empty. But his comments after he had the job done got me thinking.

“This whole dribble bar gobbledegook is a load off rubbish, Sean,” he had insisted.

“What had ya at it at all? Most of my customers were back to the splash plate the year.”

I must say Frank wasn’t the first I heard singing this tune lately. Some farmers are loathe to innovate and try something new but I have been surprised that the dribble bar has been dismissed by so many as nothing more than a gimmick.

I actually read an article last week claiming only 3% of farmers used low emission slurry spreading this spring. It was a figure that surprised me, if I’m honest.

Slurry spreading with a dribble bar/trailing shoe etc is of benefit to the farmer and the environment. Modern farming is a highly evolved science, a far cry from its humble beginnings, and there is a generation of farmers in general who do embrace new technologies with gusto. But yet these methods, in Ireland at least, seem to be passing us by.

That’s quite bizarre as the environment and sustainability is such a hot topic. With a government close to being formed containing the Green Party, we must be proactive in our approach to carbon emissions.

Now before I go any further I must say I totally disagree with the Greens’ policies off culling huge numbers from the national herd and banning live exports. The party should realise that Irish beef and dairy is some of the most carbon-friendly produce in the world.

If we reduce our beef herd we are only pushing the likes of Brazil and the US and their massive feedlots into more carbon-heavy production. These were the points I made to Frank over a cup of tea in the kitchen just after dinner.

“Surely if we, the Irish farmers, endeavoured to spread even half our slurry with low emission methods it would be of benefit? It seems a no-brainer to me,” I said.

Remember, it not only reduces emissions, it keeps more nutrients in the ground and it also reduces smell, which is good for everyone, especially the non-farming neighbours who rightfully get vexed at this particular issue.

Eventually, my man conceded some ground.

“I suppose you have a point, Sean,” mumbled Frank, “but…”

With these boyos, I have learned, there is always a ‘but’.

“But,” he concluded triumphantly, “no matter what you say and how much carbon-this or emissions-that you go on about, shit still stinks!”

What could I say to that?