Hay Haulin’

by Dale Grubaugh

I love to haul hay! When I talk about hay haulin’ I’m talkin ’bout the rectangle (square) bales that you stack in the barn — not the big round bales that lay out in the field.

I love the smell of a freshly cut hayfield.

The feel of baler twine in my hands is like an old friend. Just the thought of being out in a field full of square bales — sweatin’ up a river in the heat and dust — makes me wish I were a few years younger (don’t go there).

Yep, I love to haul hay.

The first real payin’ job I ever took was haulin’ hay for my Uncle Jones.

I was 12 years old.

Uncle Jones and Aunt Pena had left the service station and one of the neighboring farmers asked Uncle Jones if he would be willing to put together a hay crew. The farmer would provide the truck if Uncle Jones would provide the crew.

Uncle Jones said yes.

When Uncle Jones called and asked if I would help him I was excited beyond belief.

I could barely sleep the night before. That next mornin’ I was up early, settin’ in the front yard a waitin’. It seemed like an eternity before that big red ’58 Ford flatbed truck pulled into our driveway.

I crawled up into the cab grinnin’ from ear to ear!

Uncle Jones asked me if I was ready to work hard and I said “Yessir.” Then he asked me if I had brought gloves and ’course I didn’t have any. He loaned me a pair of jersey gloves (which by the end of the first day were about as helpful as paper).

Now, folks weren’t convinced I would be able to do the job.

Admittedly I was green. I had some trouble gettin’ the bales to the truck bed. As I was stackin’, I wallered the bales around. Uncle Jones finally told me to just pick ’em up once and put ’em where I wanted ’em... and leave ’em there.

Sounded like good advice, but it sure took some doing to get the hang of it. He also showed me how to use my knee to get the bales onto the truck.

That trick I took to right quick.

When we got home that night I was one tired puppy. I didn’t climb out of the truck. I kinda rolled out. I was stiff and sore and could hardly walk. I had blisters on the blisters of my hands. When Uncle Jones asked me if I wanted to work again the next day I said “Sure,” but with not quite the enthusiasm I had used early that mornin‘.

Next mornin’ was rough but I got right back out there. As the days wore on I kinda got the hang of things and by the end of summer?

I was sad it was over and lookin’ forward to the next season.

The job I enjoyed the most was stackin’. Whether on the truck or in the barn, I wanted to stack the hay.

There’s an art to stackin’ hay on a truck or wagon. The hay has to ride from the field to the barn. You can tie the hay on with a rope but if the bales aren’t tied in right on the stack, yer gonna pick up hay and restack it.

Believe me I had to restack a few loads til I got it right. Later I got kinda artistic with my stackin’.

I wanted the load to be squared and picture-perfect. Made me real proud when one of the ladies we were haulin’ hay for took pictures and bragged about how pretty my stackin’ was.

Stackin’ in the hay loft is kinda tricky too.

The hay has to be stacked in such a way that the sides of the barn don't bulge out. Once, we hauled for one old farmer who wouldn’t let us stack hay beyond the plate of the loft.

I thought it was a waste of space but one year we had put up some hay for him that was kinda green.

Those green bales began to smolder and we had to throw them out so the barn wouldn’t burn down. The short stackin’ made it easier to do. Some of those bales were so hot, when they hit fresh air, they burst into flames. Now that was scary!

It soon got around that I was a pretty good hand with the hay and a hard worker. I got a lot of job offers and stayed busy every summer.

And those folks who thought I couldn't do the job? They were the ones I worked for the most.

I learned some great lessons haulin’ hay. Lessons like...

Blisters soon become calluses. Hard work may hurt for a while, but it makes you feel better about yourself. Doin the job right the first time saves time. Teachin’ a kid to work is not a bad thing.

And the one that has helped me in my pastoral ministry:

It doesn't make any difference how fancy the barn is, the bales won't come in ’til ya go get ’em.

’Till next time,

Elias Tucker

September 19, 2010