Robot farming in West Cork

The cows were driving him mad in the finish.

"Can you imagine pulling paps all day long?" The robot said to me over breakfast this morning.

"No, I can't," I confessed.

"Would you like another cup of waste oil?" I then enquired.

"God knows," says he. "I will."

The robot frightened the cattle on his first day out, obviously enough, but then I put a cap on his metal head, and he's fine now.

The cattle are getting more used to the big lug with every passing day. And with his laser gun that can zap the ticks and mites from their backs, 'tis how they have even become mighty fond of him.

I know you might laugh at my story and say, "Sure, there are no ticks at this time of the year." 

Well, you just wait until the spring and then watch the laser show when the ticks are out in force.

I'm telling you, I will have the cleanest herd of cattle in the whole of West Cork.

To be honest with you, the robot, bar the fact that he dislikes anyone named John Connor, is doing fine.

"I'll be back," says he the other morning as he headed out the door.

"Of course, you will, you big ape," I responded. "Sure, aren’t you due a recharge before tea time?"

"I'll be back," says he, and he hardly gone at all.

And speaking of nonsense, there was a right bit of a fuss on the farm the other day when the robot got a shock from the electric fencer.

He was climbing over it, like myself, only not as nimble obviously.

He was after throwing one leg over it when one of his stainless-steel nuts tipped off the wire, only momentarily like.

But that was enough for the fencer to do its magic.

Well, you should have seen him go when the fencer shot a pulse of electricity right through his metal frame.

It damn nearly blew out every fuse in his backside.

"You old fool, you Amadán Mór!." I roared down the field after him.

You should have seen the sparks fly. He wasn't in the better of it for hours.

Myself and Jessie the dog thought it was hilarious.

That said, his computation skills are extraordinary. He's like a genius entirely when it comes to the sums.

My robot can make up how little I will make out of cattle, even before I purchase them at all.

"You will make nothing out of your bullocks this year," he said only yesterday. "That's according to my calculations."

And the other day, he told me how much more weight gain my cattle would achieve if I was to give them a bale of hay or silage.

"That's all very well, my dear man," says I. "But what if you have no bale of hay or silage to give?"

You see, that's the problem with robots these days: they lack the common touch.

They don't grasp that farming is a lot more than just an exercise in addition.

And this is where my robot falls flat on his face.

Farming has never really added up, and that's what makes it so unique and so special.

You don't need to be a genius to figure that one out.

The trick to success in farming is to ignore what the computer tells you and do what the mighty farmer within tells you to do.

Nobody knows your business better than yourself.

So, while the future might be robots, for now, the farmer is still in charge.

Until next week. Hasta la vista, baby!