Denis Lehane: Did JK Rowling help bring in the silage?

Some magic was involved in bringing in so much so quickly, writes our Auld Lehane in this week's Lighten Up

JK Rowling visited West Cork and now, a few months later, we find our silage whipped into shape with supernatural speed. Coincidence? I think not. Picture: Andy Gibson

Something miraculous happened in rural Ireland last week.

And it happened in the blink of an eye.

Almost all the silage needed to feed our cattle over the winter months was saved.

Hurray!

Cut, baled, wrapped and shoved into pits. As smart as you like, as quick as be damned.

The efficiency with which it was made was unprecedented.

All done before the weather went bad.

A job that usually takes about six months of moaning and groaning, piking and roaring, took no longer than three days!

So how on earth was it all achieved? How was so much work done by so few?

Could it be that tractors are now much larger and faster, could it be that silage harvesters are far more efficient?

Well yes, it's possible, but I have a far more plausible explanation.

One that makes far more sense when you really think about it.

I believe it was all the work of JK Rowling.

A few months back, JK Rowling visited West Cork.

She loved the place, of course. She even stopped in Bandon to have her photo taken, calling herself 'the Bandon Banshee.'

Enough said.

And now, a few months later, we find our silage whipped into shape with supernatural speed.

Coincidence? I think not.

Could it be that JK Rowling returned to West Cork and, feeling sorry for us farmers, who struggle each year with the silage, cast a few spells over our fields and over us farmers too?

Helping us to bring in the silage, like never before.

I think it's highly likely.

'Hocus pocus diddle-de-do'

'Let's cut the silage, for me and for you.'

'Eye of a cat and tongue of a toad,

Bring in the silage, load after load'

Yerra, something like that must have happened.

There can be no other explanation for how so much work was done in such little time.

It was either JK, or far more powerful tractors.

And I much prefer the thought of 'the Bandon Banshee' gliding serenely over the silage fields of West Cork in a long flowing dress weaving her spells over us all.

Powerful tractors me arse.

'Eye of the tiger and door of the barn

'Give auld Lehane another good yarn.'

Pondering over the matter at great length over the past couple of days, I find it hard to believe it was anything but JK.

And matching JK's eagerness to get the job done are the silage contractors themselves, who, these days, and fair play to them, no longer depend on gallons of porter in order to do their work.

In my young days, you could judge the amount of silage being made from the amount of empty beer bottles and cans left on a silage pit wall once the rush was over.

Back then, with the shenanigans over, sometimes the mountain of empty cans almost surpassed the mountain of silage. Like the Alps and the Himalayas side by side.

Nowadays, silage is of course saved in strict sobriety, but clearly the magic remains.

There was a magic to the way our silage was made last week.

And, thank God, we still have the magicians on tractors who can pull off the amazing feat.

The feat of saving enough winter feed for millions of cattle, in just a handful of fine days.