Photo Diary of Planting Rice Seedlings: Lazy Farmer's Farming Log, Entry 4

These days, farming only takes a few phone calls. From tilling the soil, preparing the land, ordering seedlings, planting the seedlings, to harvesting, all it takes is a phone call. Every step has someone specifically responsible for it, and because of this, there is a complex network of interpersonal relationships in the countryside.

Agriculture, like other industries, has moved toward specialized division of labor. Therefore, for a rookie farmer planting for the first time, there is not much to worry about. A few phone calls can arrange the entire farming process, and these phone calls also connect me to a new relationship with the countryside.

Because of the changes brought by agricultural mechanization, the need for labor has been greatly reduced. The "companion work" of the past during busy farming periods, such as planting and harvesting, has also disappeared. Although the lively scenes of busy farming in the countryside have decreased, the strong sense of human warmth has never disappeared.

Because I have to go to work, I asked Uncle Trees to call me before planting the seedlings. When I received the call and rushed back from work, half of the rice field had already been planted with seedlings. I hurriedly grabbed my camera and got out of the car to take photos and document it. The first thing my landlord said when we met was: "Oh! You are really diligent!" This casual greeting left me, a self-proclaimed lazy farmer, unable to figure out what it meant. I thought to myself: Does farming with a camera count as diligent? Or is it diligent to rush back from outside for the sake of planting seedlings?

I walked to the edge of the field and, while the seedling transplanter was reloading, asked the driver: "Can I get on and take photos?"

"Sure." He nodded and answered me.

The driver was a young guy about my age, and the person standing on the work platform was probably his wife. The couple came to plant seedlings for me at 1:12 p.m. That used to be my nap time, yet they were working hard under the blazing sun. Even though rice farming is now fully mechanized, the labor invested, compared with the economic income it brings, is still far inferior to that of other industries. Therefore, the old farmers in the village do not want their children to continue farming. Usually, after the next generation goes away to study, they stay in the city to work.

The countryside becomes a hometown, no longer a home.

I watched the steadily rotating mechanical arm, regularly consuming one seedling tray after another. The large tray loaded with seedlings at the rear of the transplanter moved from left to right and right to left, like the shuttle on a weaving machine. After my earlier experience of fertilizing until my back ached, imagining the farmers of the past bending over to plant seedlings made me admire these farming uncles and aunties in the village even more. Of course, I was also grateful to the inventor of the seedling transplanter, which has reduced so much of the farmers' hard labor.

After riding back and forth for one trip, I got off. Uncle White Hair and my landlord, who were standing at the edge of the field, came up to watch.

"This one plants really carefully, opens slowly, and the seedlings are planted beautifully. Not like the one I hired before, who opened fast and didn't plant the seedlings well." My landlord muttered.

He then continued: "Is it because you are filming, so he can't afford to mess up?"

Uncle White Hair then said: "The weeds have come up, you need to spray them with herbicide."

Before I could respond, my landlord answered: "No! This person wants to farm organically, so he can't use that kind of pesticide. That pesticide is very toxic. The weeds will die, and the golden apple snails will die too." After saying that, he turned his head and looked at me and asked: "Right? Ah Zhong!"

"Yes! Can't use herbicide." I answered happily.