Airline pilots are really silage contractors of the sky
In the olden days, the pilot was worshipped - just like the farmer. One was a hero of the sky, the other a god on the ground, writes Farming columnist Denis Lehane.
Flying a plane is no joke. Granted it isn't as hard as catching a ram, flipping him over and tending to his feet for foot rot. But it's tough enough too.
A good friend of mine, a pilot for many years, recently gave up the job to take up a role with the AI world.
He told me over a pint that he is much happier now when he's serving a cow than flying a jet plane to Timbuctoo.
"With the cow and AI straw, you know where you stand. With a plane load of anxious people, it's really all up in the air," he said.
My friend had flown planes all over the world, over a long and illustrious career.
Rarely did he crash, and more seldom was he late for work.
To my mind, he was one of the best.
He is known to one and all as Murty.
"But surely Murty, you miss the rumble of the engine and the screeching of the brakes?" I asked.
"Not a bit of it!" he roared back.
"They should never have gotten rid of the hot air balloon. The hot air balloon got everyone everywhere without half the fuss. The plane was a step in the wrong direction if you ask me," he said.
"The problem with flying nowadays is that everyone expects to get to their destination in one piece.
"Safety has become a priority," he moaned. "It's P.C. gone mad."
He was talking sense, of course. It's a pity there aren't more like him.
But safety aside, I wondered if flying was a handy number.
"At least the teenager can take his girlfriend along for a spin, a pilot can do no such thing.
"Romance at high altitude is frowned upon.
"'Tis no wonder pilots go on strike and 'tis no wonder I'm still single," he spluttered.
Murty believes there is too much red tape in flying nowadays.
"Piloting a plane is almost as bad as farming, with the height of cross-checks needed," he said.
"However, at least a pilot won't get shot down suddenly with a letter from the department stating that the Single Farm Payment will be delayed."
And fair play to Murty; he got that one right.
"With silage contacting," he went on, "Even at peak season, once the dew comes down, the stopper is pulled, and everyone can go for a pint.
"When piloting a plane, the dew fall has little bearing on proceedings. Indeed, sometimes it can only add to the confusion."
And as for going for a pint? Well, Murty had to laugh. "It's usually a case of being too late to get a jar after you land and too early to go for one before you depart again.
"It's a catch-22," he stated. "You are damned if you do, and damned if you don't."
But it wasn't always this bad, as Murty recalls.
"I remember a time when flying a plane was like steering a cattle truck into an empty mart yard. "You could back in wherever you damn well pleased and offload to your heart's content.
"Out would come the cigarettes," he recalled, "and nobody would chastise you for smoking too near the fuselage.
"Nowadays,'" he said. "Flying a plane into a busy airport is like dropping a sheep into a dipping tank. Your time is limited. You know the next one is up your behind.
"Both were respected for the tremendous work they did and admired for the courage they displayed.
"Nowadays, the world is full of cynics, with everyone believing they know more about the job than the professional themselves.
"The pilot and the farmer should be well rewarded for what they do, for they carry out tasks that few can comprehend, let alone perform."
