HAYING IT


by bartermn
7/6/98
The sun finally stuck around long enough to dry out the
fields. I pulled into Bob's as the members of the old farmer's
coffee club sat down to lunch. The hay field was half mowed, the
grass a little too damp to bale but they all agreed it would be
only a short time before I would be needed to stack it in the
loft. I sat down on the front porch while they ate.

Stan has raked the outside rows and come back for the big
John Deere, letting Wally take the Massy Ferguson to finish
raking. The JD 60 pulls out of the barnyard pulling a kicker baler
and wagon. The rest of us sit on the porch to wait for the first
load. Gin shows up, she has been shopping for her mother.
It won't be long now.

"We might as well take another wagon over to the field."
Bob says. I follow him to the other John Deere, a 30-20, the
largest tractor in his harem. He backs up to another of the four
wagons we have rebuilt over the winter and I hold up the drawbar
until he lines up to it, I drop the pin and he pulls away. He
stops at the road and shuts it down, saying "Maybe I'l just
wait a few more minutes until Stanley comes around the corner.
He rejoins us on the porch. It won't be long now.

"Where is he? He should be around that field by now."

"There he is, just topping the hill, it won't be long now."

Ten minutes later we hear the tractor shut down but can't see
it behind a hedgerow of Locust trees. "I wonder what he's doing
up there. He should have made two trips around by now."

I see a movement through the hedgerow, it's Stanley and he's
walking back toward us carrying something. He arrives at the porch,
slumps down beside us and passes the belt to Bob, "It keeps
slipping off the pully, we need one just a bit shorter than
this one. Can you run over to the dealers and pick one up?"
Bob leaves and so do we, coming home for a quick lunch.

Gin and I return to Bob's empty porch an hour later. "Where
is everyone?" I hear the tractor in the distance, Wally has
finished the raking, the little Massy is parked at the barn.
We walk down to find Wally with the other farmers sitting
inside. He tells us it shouldn't be long now. Gin has
brought a blanket and pillow with her and stretches out on the
lawn, "I've heard that one before."

We wait for Stan to bring the wagon down, and wait, and wait.
Shep pulls in the driveway and Bob tells him not to block the
way to the barn, "Your uncle Stanley will be right down." Shep
moves his car and joins us on the porch. We all wait for Stan.

It's now after six, Stan just pulled in with the first load.
He has had to stop the baling every ten minutes to put the new
belt back on, he says the pulley that it runs on is bent and he
and Bob remove it while the rest of us put the hay in the mow.
Gin and Wally on the wagon, unloading, and Me, Shep and Johnny,
Shep's nephew, in the hayloft, stacking the bales as they fall
from the elevator.

The pulley has been straightened and Stan is back in the
field. The rest of us join Bob on his porch for a drink of ice-water.
Only a few minutes pass when we hear the tractor coming. "That
was quick." We find out why when Stanley pulls into the driveway
with an empty wagon. The pulley broke. Stan calls a friend and
asks to borrow his baler, he takes his truck to pick it up,
taking Johnny with him. We wait.

Johnny comes walking up to the porch a half hour later saying
the baler has a flat tire and sits at the bottom of the hill.
Wally and I remove a tire from Bob's baler and take it down to
Stan. We follow Stanley back to the farm to make sure there are
no other complications. He switches to the tractor and off he
goes. It won't be long now. Gin has fallen asleep on the lawn.

We hear the tractor quit running and Stan comes back to the
porch, a very disgusted look on his face. A metal plate that
lines up the bales as they push toward the kicker broke away and
is now lost somewhere in the field. He and Bob walk to the barn
and a half-hour later come back with a rectangle cut from a piece
of scrap. Stanley resumes his baling after installing the plate.
It won't be long now.

Darkness fell as we unloaded the second wagon to be filled
that day. The old farmers say they think tomorrow will be better.
Bob says, "I don't know why I bother, I'm getting too old for this."

They were right, the following day went somewhat smooth,
aside from a rain shower that shut us down before all the hay was
in the barn.

We took a day off so the grass would dry out, then went back
at it today. everything worked out perfectly for a change.
The entire field is now safe and dry in Bob's barn. Before
winter I'll move three or four hundred bales to my barn, our
payment for sitting on Bob's porch.


SONRISE