BALING HAY AND A LITTLE LEMONADE!

One of the big jobs in the summer, when I was a kid, was baling hay. Before I get to the good part of this story, let me explain a little about baling hay.

When the alfalfa or clover was ready, it was cut with a sickle pulled behind a tractor. Once the hay dried, it was raked into rows resembling long curls or "wind" rows to let it dry further. 

In a day or two, a baler was pulled behind a tractor along with a hay rack. The rectangular shaped bales were then formed by the baler with twine to hold the hay shape together. It was pushed back and upward to someone standing on the hay rack and then would stack the bales-usually 40-70 pounds each. 

When the hay rack was stacked full, it was taken to the barn to be stored. Most barns had a big door up high at front.  With the hayrack pulled up in front of the barn, huge forks were used to hold maybe eight bales together. They were then lifted with a pulley operated by a tractor.  Once the hay reached the top and to the open door,  it followed a track toward the rear of the barn. 

Once it reached a certain location, someone up in the hay mound would "yell out"  to drop the bundle. A guy outside and down below would "trip the load" of the  forks holding the hay and down the hay would come.

NOW THE STORY GETS INTERESTING! On this particular day, I was the guy up in the hay mound doing the stacking. This was quite an operation if you counted the men out in the field doing the actual baling and then the crew putting the hay into the barn. 

It was in the late 1950's and I was in my teens. It was a very hot day and really warm up in that barn with no cool breeze up there. No sir! Plus, it was really hard work for 75 cents an hour.

At some point,  I looked down at my arms and realized I was not sweating. Dry to the touch as was my forehead. One minute sweating like "pig" and the next dry and clammy. I knew I had dehydrated. Time to get out! What can I tell you. The rest of the afternoon it was cold lemonade for this guy.

 **As a footnote to this story, I used to do a little  work for a neighbor named Art DeWitt, who lived just north of us. I will never forget baling hay for him one day.  

 His wife, Beverly, made lunch and I've always said was the best cook in five counties bar none! That day we had fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy,veggies, complete with pie. We would rest under a shade tree for a while and go back to work. We would then enjoy a sandwich and a little lemonade around four o'clock or so. Then, we go home later and have supper! That's how you stayed slim and trim!

This story was also published in the IOWA BARN FOUNDATION Magazine in the spring of 2009. under Vignettes from Rural Iowa.