Not long ago, when I was working in the greenhouse, I heard our farm pooch barking, “Wow, the horses are working and it’s really exciting and I’m going to run back and forth in front of them and bark as they pull the disc!” This is highly annoying to both horses and farmers, so I went to rescue the situation by fetching the dog to some other enticing project, such as chasing the frisbee, or chasing the cat (also annoying, but the pooch is a work in progress, as we all are).
However, when I got closer, my fellow wasn't seated on the disc, resting the horses for a minute, as I had expected. Instead he was standing about ten feet away, saying something. The only two words I heard were “got hurt,” and since horses, man, and dog were all standing, I didn’t know what had happened.
I sped up considerably, saying “Who got hurt? Who got hurt?”
My fellow answered with considerable vigor: “I got hurt! I got hurt!”
“Oh, no,” I answered, “What happened?”
"The jack slipped out from under the disc and slammed into the side of my head!”
“That’s terrible,” I said, feeling it all the way to my gut. “We have to fix it.”
“No!” my fellow shouted, in his hurt and distress. “No! I don’t want to fix it! I want a new one!”
“Okay, yes, of course,” I said in my most soothing tones, “We’ll get a new one. What can I do right now to help?”
My fellow asked for three pain-relievers. I ran to get them. I came back, and he said, “I can’t disc any more. I’m bringing the horses in."
The fact that he was even considering discing more was a surprise to me, and I was relieved to help unharness the horses, and shepherd my fellow to the couch. The nice pooch rested his head on my fellow's leg, looking sadly and sympathetically at him.
The next day my fellow woke up with a shiner and a headache, and he couldn’t open his mouth very much. He was pretty miserable, though somewhat calmer.
The budget committee delicately broached the matter. “I understood that we agreed that you would just try to get through the end of last year with the disc, since the three different people we had look at it couldn't fix it. Then we would really fix it for this year.”
Last fall, we had developed a system of my fellow heaving on the bottom of the disc while I worked the lever to get the disc to rise up and down in order to make the turns at the end of every pass. This was awkward and inconvenient and frustrating, but it worked. This year muscle power wasn’t enough, which was why my fellow was using the jack for the lifting, and then pushing the lever. That worked a few times. Then the jack slipped.
Now my fellow looked at the budget committee a little warily, or maybe it was the effect of the black eye. “I thought you said the budget couldn’t afford the new part. It cost almost $500.”
“That was last year’s budget. This year’s budget factors in the new part. Plus last year you didn’t get cracked on the side of the head, trying to disc.”
“I’m ordering the part right this minute then,” said my fellow, as he opened up the computer.
“Great,” I said. “What’s the thing actually called?”
My fellow had a ghost of a smile. “It’s called the 11.34" Stroke 1000 lbs 12 Volt DC Linear Actuator GlideForce LACT12-1000B.”
I laughed. “Wow. That sounds like it’ll fix everything on this farm.” Then I kissed the top of my fellow's head, well away from the swollen and bruised areas. “I’m really glad it wasn’t worse,” I said. “It could have been a lot worse.”
“Yeah," he answered. “You and me both.”
Originally published in the Monadnock Shopper News, April 30- May 6, 2025