Chapter 076: Farmland Planning

The primary objective of farmland planning is to determine the placement of irrigation channels, as rice cultivation requires the fields to be submerged in water for prolonged periods. This necessitates the use of surface irrigation while also ensuring efficient use of land area. This, however, leads to another critical issue.

How much rice does the Han tribe need to plant? What size of planting area is required?

The wild rice Luo Chong brought back from the marshlands initially weighed over sixty kilograms when fresh. However, after drying, the grains only retained about seventy percent of their weight, leaving just over forty kilograms.

These wild rice grains are slightly larger than the rice Luo Chong had in his previous life, approximately double the size. The common rice of his past life had about 26,000 grains per kilogram, whereas the wild rice in Luo Chong's possession has around 12,000 grains per kilogram.

However, Luo Chong is not planning to sow all the seeds at once. Having no prior experience in grain farming in his past life—his limited agricultural activity involved feeding pigs for a couple of days in the military and cultivating some greens as punishment—he cannot risk planting all the seeds at once, for fear of failure.

Thus, he decides to plant only half of the seeds, about twenty-two kilograms, equating to 264,000 grains. This leads to the question: how many rice plants can be grown in one mu of land? How much farmland does the Han tribe need?

From observations in the marshlands, it's evident that these rice plants are quite tall, nearly two meters, and each can bear at least fifteen rice panicles, potentially even double.

Given the significant space each rice plant occupies, Luo Chong plans to use a planting distance of 40 centimeters. With one mu covering 667 square meters—measuring about 25 by 27 meters—it's estimated that approximately 4,156 rice plants can be accommodated per mu. Therefore, to plant twenty-two kilograms of seeds, around 64 mu of farmland is required.

This area, neither too large nor too small, could span 400 meters in length, requiring only about 107 meters in width—approximately the size of six soccer fields.

This 400-meter-long tract of farmland would extend along the southern edge of the water channel, starting near the compound wall and extending almost 300 meters from a small river. Within this farmland, 20 irrigation channels, each less than a meter wide and about half a meter deep, would be dug horizontally extending 110 meters southward.

With fifty adults working, given that the Han tribe only possesses fifty shovels, each individual would need to dig just over two meters, a task swiftly completed in about half an hour. Thus, all twenty channels could be dug in a day.

With everything in place, just as the fourteenth lunar month concluded and the New Year began with a light rain, all primitive tribes on the land breathed a sigh of relief. The rain replaced the snow, and the dreaded winter was finally over.

Each tribe tallied the losses incurred during the winter, including food consumed, tribe members who froze or starved to death, the men lost during winter hunts, and the number of tribe members reaching adulthood this year. The outlook was grim, with smaller tribes of fewer than a hundred members often losing more than ten people, mostly children and adult men.

This extended four-and-a-half-month winter was particularly harsh, and many tribes' food supplies were insufficient to last until spring, forcing them to make heartbreaking decisions to let some children starve.

Might this seem cruel? Perhaps, but survival was arduous.

The adults consumed the food meant for their children, venturing out into the cold and snow with guilt and sorrow for hunting, knowing they had to support the women of the tribe. As long as there were women, there could be children, and the tribe could continue, ensuring human survival. The decisions to sacrifice these children were made out of sheer necessity.

Hunting parties ventured out into the snow, some fortunate enough to gather nuts, others returning empty-handed or not at all, and the luckiest encountering isolated wild animals.

These men fought desperately, regardless of the cost, to bring food back to their tribe. If they couldn't return with food, they likely perished in the attempt.

Triumphant hunting parties brought fresh meat back to their tribes, but there was no cause for celebration, as the cost was too great.

Very few hunting parties returned intact; those who did often suffered from frostbite to ears, fingers, and toes, or various injuries sustained during the hunts, often resulting in disabilities.

In contrast, the Han tribe had reason to feel fortunate, having experienced its fastest development and most abundant food supply in a year. Thus, the elders decided to hold a grand spring sacrifice, hoping for an even better year ahead.

Luo Chong had no objections to this. Sacrifices, after all, are a human spiritual solace. However, when the elder posed a question, it left Luo Chong at a loss.

"Chief, under whose divine protection does our tribe prosper? How should we worship them?"

"What deity? I wouldn't know about any deity," Luo Chong thought, though such words could never be spoken aloud. After some thought, he dismissed the idea of fostering belief in spirits or ghosts. Instead, he planned to promote ancestor and tribe worship as a means to cultivate a sense of national identity among the people.

"Our Han tribe doesn't believe in deities," he declared.

"What then shall we believe in? Who shall protect us?" the elder asked, shocked.

"We may not believe in gods, but we can revere our ancestors. Without our ancestors' proliferation, there would be no us. It is the ancestors of the Han tribe who granted us life, imparted knowledge, and taught us how to survive and continue our lineage. Thus, it is not gods we should worship, but the ancestors of our Han tribe," Luo Chong explained earnestly, looking at the elder.

The elder pondered for a long while, intrigued by this novel idea of ancestor worship, which made sense. Without parents and elders to teach hunting skills and other life skills, how could they survive? Indeed, it was right to be grateful to their ancestors.

"But how should we worship our ancestors? We've never done this before," the elder wondered, feeling increasingly convinced yet unsure of how to conduct such rites, given his role as merely an elder, not a shaman.

"Leave that to me," Luo Chong assured, waving his hand dismissively. He had already devised a plan for the ceremony.