Making Hay While The Sun Shines
This past weekend was Hay Season Boot Camp here at Rocking Bar H. I’ve been excited to share about one of my favorite times of year around our place, but needed a few days for all the blisters on my hands to heal first. Now just a few remain, and they’re a great reminder of the work that we all love doing.
Hay season is a family event for us. Clay began driving the tractors – mowing, raking, and baling – when he was 8 years old, and his brothers aren’t far behind. This year, Keith and Clay ran the tractors; Cole was promoted from driving the truck to bucking bales with me, now that he’s a big, strapping 8 year old; and Carson the Great chased mice when he wasn’t riding along on one of the tractors or following through the fields on the four-wheeler.
Cole and Carson Hickle
It’s so fun to watch our boys have such a passion for something. Clay has wanted to custom farm for as long as I can remember. The other day he assured me that he’ll own his first tractor before he buys his first truck. And I smiled this weekend as I watched Cole wrestle and stack bales that weigh more than him. It’s by far the hardest work he’ll do all year, and yet he never complained; in fact, he grinned every time his eyes met mine! All 3 boys gather around the computer as they search farm equipment websites this time of year. They talk about what they’d like to buy, and how they’d run their operations. I love watching them plan and dream.
Over the weekend, with about 1,500 bales to bring in from the fields and put up in the barn, we hired a group of high school boys to help out. As Saturday afternoon rolled around, I had been driving the truck with a group of 3 boys loading hay, and was wanting to get out and help. The weather was hot, and one of the boys needed a break, so I told him I’d park the truck every so often and get out and load bales. I wasn’t really prepared…still wearing running shorts from that morning…but I’d move the truck across the field a hundred feet or so, then jump out, stumbling as I ran in my flip-flops and help the boys load. By the time we were done, I think I’d rolled both ankles in that rough field a dozen times; my legs were scratched up, full of slivers and burning from the hay bales rubbing against them; countless blisters already covered my bare hands. But I had no complaints.
When the next round of hauling bales came around that evening, I was prepared with jeans and leather gloves…whew! This time I was working with a group of seasoned farm boys who’ve been bucking hay all summer. As the load got higher, they easily tossed the bales onto the stack over their heads, and being me, I was determined to keep up. I did my best, and I can only imagine how they must’ve laughed later, thinking about the mom out there, struggling each and every time she attempted to hurl a bale overhead without falling down. They were polite enough to save their laughs for when I wasn’t around.
By Sunday night, all the hay was put up in the barn. The Hickles fell into bed about 11pm and slept like babies. Exhausted nights after long days haying are just the best. And until it’s time to feed this winter, our barn will be home to some of the best hay forts around.