I don't think silaging is actually a word, but since what we did this past weekend was make silage, not hay, I can't say we were haying.
Just in case some of you were like me a few short years ago and have no idea what silage is . . . it's fermented plant material. Grass, hay, corn, whatever. It's chopped up and stored in airtight plastic, to ferment and thereby be quite digestible by cows*.
Sheep! We have sheep! We have no money for crazy-expensive hay that keeps getting more expensive every winter! So when the lawn tractor broke and we waited so long for the part to fix it that our grass grew into hay and then A. finally cut it and it was so thick and long the cut grass would have killed the grass roots if left on the ground so we had to rake it up anyway
. . .
We baled it.
Welcome to the farm.
What we actually did was put the cut grass into a plastic-bag-lined garbage can, with A. getting right into the can to stomp around and compact the grass. Then, when it was compact and full, he tied it off, dumped it out of the garbage can, and there was a little round bale of silage.
I helped rake. Cubby was unaccountably THRILLED with this activity and helped rake, carry grass to the can, and compact the grass in the can. Charlie practiced standing with the aid of the finished bales.
It was bizarre.
I have no idea if this will actually produce food for the sheep in the winter, but we had nothing to lose by trying it, so stay tuned to see if we just made honest-to-God silage on our lawn. Or just left some cut grass to sit around and rot in plastic bags.
I bet the neighbors are getting a lot of amusement out of this one.
* Edited to add: Thanks to Jen for letting me know that horses can't eat silage. I know nothing about horses (obviously), so I appreciate the correction.