Or better yet, stop by
2220 Leota St. North Platte, NE and Billie will personalize a copy
for you!
Making a Hay-hand
by Billie Lee Snyder Thornburg
I liked horses. I was good at handling them for a kid, even if I was
just a girl.
The summer I was nine years old, Dad told me he was going to try me on
a mowing machine in the hayfield. He had me climb up on the seat of a
John Deere mower. He moved the footrest up to where my feet would reach
it.
It was a wonderful feeling to know Dad trusted me enough to let me run
a mowing machine. And what fun to watch that footrest being lowered an
inch or two each year as I grew. I never did get as big as I felt the
day he first measured that footrest.
Dad harnessed and hitched a gentle team to MY mower. I hooked up the tugs,
feeling about 10 feet tall. I sat on my mower seat holding the reins to
my team while Dad hitched up his team.
Dad got on his mower and told me to follow him.
When moving a mowing machine and it isn't in gear to cut grass, the sickle
is raised off the ground a few inches. We had a ways to go to reach the
hayfield. We were traveling with the sickles up.
We had one barbed wire gate to go through. We came to the gate and Dad
drove right through. By this time I was feeling so big and important,
I wasn't watching closely. I caught the end of my sickle on the dead-man
wire.
The machine swung to the right. The team stopped. I didn't know what happened.
Dad stopped his team, wrapped his reins tightly around the sickle lever
and came back to assess the damage. I'd broken the tongue out of the mower.
Neither one of us mowed hay that day. Dad repaired the tongue. I spent
the day feeling very bad. In fact, I felt like a kid that would never
amount to anything.
The next morning all the repairs were made. I was ready to try mowing
again, this time to really watch for trouble before it happened.
Dad and I started out in the same manner, only I was in front of him.
We got through the gate fine and drove to the patch of hay to be mowed.
I got lined up just right and was able to lower the cutting bar and say
"Giddup" to my team, good ol' Silver Heels and Charlie.
I was actually mowing hay. What
better could a nine-year-old girl ask for!
Dad waited until I got a ways ahead, then started mowing in behind me. Gee
Whiz! This was wonderful. I had the best feeling in my chest. I knew that
none of the neighbor's boys had started mowing hay as young as I.
Suddenly the mower stopped with a jerk. The good ol' team just stood there
waiting to be told what to do. I sure wanted to get this taken care of before
Dad got there.
I hopped off my machine and went in front of the sickle to see what I'd
hit. Just when I got to where I could see, Dad hollered at me in a very
severe voice, "Bill, get out from in front of that sickle!"
I did.
It turned out I had hit an anthill big enough to stop the mower. Dad scolded
me some more, saying,
"Never get in front of a mower sickle while horses are hitched to the
machine." He said if something spooked the horses and they started
to run, I could get my feet cut off.
Dad had me back the horses up until the sickle was free of the anthill.
I pulled on the lever to lift the sickle high enough to clear the ant nest,
said, "Giddup," and mowed over the anthill. I dropped the sickle
and was on my way.
I mowed hay every summer for the next five years. I don't recall any more
problems. I did do a lot of little girl swearing at my sweet old horses.
The horses didn't mind and it made me feel bigger and more important.
This might be a good place to tell about the time I hired the hay-hand.
I don't remember how old I was, but I know I was old enough to tell a good-looking
young man from an older fellow who wasn't so good-looking.
It was getting time to start haying. Dad hadn't found a man to hire to help
us. This particular morning Dad and Miles left to ride the pastures. I knew
they wouldn't be back until noon.
Shortly after they left, a good-looking, clean, young man drove into our
barnyard. I was the only person he saw. He said he had heard we were looking
for help in the hay field. I said we were.
I asked him all the questions I'd heard Dad ask a man before hiring him.
I told him we would hire him. I told him what day we would start haying
and to come the night before. I told him he'd sleep in the bunkhouse and
Mama would do his washing. And I told him we always fed good at our house.
This man had his own car and Dad wouldn't have to go to town to pick him
up or take him to town when haying was over. I felt I had done a good job
of helping Dad run the ranch. I had a hard time waiting for him to ride
in at noon. I was right out there to tell him I had hired our hay hand.
Dad didn't look happy about it, but there was nothing he could do as there
was no way to get in touch with our new hired man.
The new man showed up on time. I don't even remember his name. Dad put him
to work. He was a good worker and had worked in hayfields before. Everything
went along great for a few days until that good-looking young man with a
car took my older sister, Nellie, for a ride one evening. Dad fired him
the next day.
He replaced him with an older man without a car. I guess Dad didn't mind
picking up the hired man and taking him back when his job ran out.
I never hired any more men for Dad.
NPTraveler
Spotlight
North Platte Traveler Magazine is proud to present our Spotlight features
for the Spring/Summer 2003 issue.
Making
a hay-hand
is an excerpt from Billie Lee Snyder Thornburgs recently released
second book "Bertie and Me and Miles, too. "Making a hay-hand",
provides a small taste of the delights in store for you.
Emergency!
What would
you do..?
we all dread the unknown, what to do, who to call. Our second Spotlight
focuses on these issues. Emergency! will be a continuing series,
Filled with pictures,
facts and history of a time gone by, you will find this book fascinating,
informative, insightful and funny! Billie's charm and personality
shine through on every page. Ordering information is provided or visit
the Old 101
Press Publishing Company for more information. Full story
featuring the
expertise that local officials and personnel can provide. Whether
traveling alone or with others, an emergency can be even more frightening
when away from home and all that is familiar. However, help is available
in North Platte to ease some of that fear and anguish. Full story
NPTHoliday 2003 Issue
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