In haying, we have the same inconvenience. We must turn the mowing-machine and horse-rake at the ditch, and finish by hand-labor, the work on its banks; we must construct bridges at frequent intervals, and then go out of our way to cross them with loads, cutting up the smooth fields with wheels and the feet of animals. Or, what is a familiar scene, when a shower is coming up, and the load is ready, Patrick concludes to drive straight to the barn, across the ditch, and gets his team mired, upsets his load, and perhaps breaks the leg of an animal, besides swearing more than half a mile of hard ditching will expiate. Such accidents are a great temptation to profanity, and under-draining might properly be reckoned a moral agent, to counteract such traps and pitfalls of the great adversary.
A moment's thought will satisfy any farmer who has the means, that true economy dictates a liberal expenditure of labor, at once, to obviate these difficulties, rather than be subject for a lifetime to the constant petty annoyances which have been named.
Open ditches, even when formed so skillfully that they may be conveniently crossed, or water-furrows which remain where land is laid into ridges by back-furrowing, as much of our flat land must be, if not under-drained, are serious obstructions, at the best.
They render the soil unequal in depth, taking it from one point where it is wanted, and heaping it upon another where it is not wanted, thus giving the crops an uneven growth. They render the soil also unequal in respect to moisture, because the back or top of the ridge must always be drier than the furrow.
Thorough-drained land may be laid perfectly flat, giving us, thus, the control of the whole field, to divide and cultivate according to convenience, and making it of uniform texture and temperature.
Attempts have been made, to estimate the saving in the number of horses and men by drainage, and it is thought to be a reasonable calculation to fix it at one in four, or twenty-five per cent. It probably will strike any farmer as a fair estimate, that, on land which needs drainage, it will require four horses and four men to perform the same amount of cultivation, that three men and three horses may perform on the same land well drained.
Drained land will not require re-planting. There is hardly a farmer in New England, who does not, each Spring, find himself compelled to re-plant some portion of his crop. He is obliged to hurry his seed into the ground, at the earliest day, because our season for planting is short at the best. If, after this, a long cold storm comes, on wet land, the seed rots in the ground, and he must plant again, often too late, incurring thus the loss of the seed, the labor of twice doing the same work, the interruption of his regular plan of business, and often the partial failure of his crop.
Upon thorough-drained land, this cost and labor could rarely be experienced, because nothing short of a small deluge could saturate well drained land, so as to cause the seed to fail, if sowed or planted with ordinary care and prudence, as to the season.
Drained land is lighter to work. It is often difficult to find a day in the year, when a wet piece of land is in suitable condition to plow. Usually, such tracts are unequal, some parts being much wetter than others, because the water settles into the low places. In such fields, we now drive our team knee deep into soft mud, and find a stream of water following us in the furrow, and now we rise upon a knoll, baked hard, and sun-cracked; and one half the surface when finished is shining with the plastered mud, ready to dry into the consistency of bricks, while the other is already in hard dry lumps, like paving stones, and about as easily pulverized.
This is hard work for the team and men, hard in the plowing, and hard through the whole rotation. The same field, well drained, is friable and porous, and uniform in texture. It may be well plowed and readily pulverized, if taken in hand at any reasonable season.