inyati13
Well-known member
I have a story to tell but it would be pointless if the "Horse Powered Hay Trolley" is not understood. I will tell the story in a couple of days after folks get an opportunity to read this. Background:
My dad was behind his times. While other farmers in the poor county where I grew up were getting little Ford tractors, dad was moving backwards as fast as he could. We never owned a tractor. We had no running water or indoor plumbing. He bought his farm in 1948. Henry and I were born in 1949 and 1950, respectively. Eddie and Sharon came shortly there after, and Robbie was the baby, 14 years after me.
Dad started the farm with a team of draft horses that came from his dad's farm. I can remember that one was named Queen. Dad bought her from a horse trader named Pete Young. She died when I was maybe 10 at the age of 32. Later he had a team of Belgian Mares, Pat and Bunny. Henry and I would sneak out the door under mom's eye, go to the pasture and play with our mares. Bunny was mine, Pat was Henry's. I would crawl on Bunny by leading her down hill of me and getting a lift from a high spot on the ground. I would lay on her back belly down. I would put my face against her and smell her. I could feel her muscles moving under me. If I slid too far forward, I would slide down her neck and hit the ground in front of her as she was grazing. She never paid any attention to me. I was so brown by the end of summer, my friends teased me at school.
We put our hay up loose. Dad mowed it with the horses using a 5 1/2 foot sickle with the arrow shaped blades that slide back and forth. He raked it with a rake that had hoop shaped teeth that collected the hay from the ground and dumped it in windrows. Henry and I shocked it with pitchforks as dad raked. When the hay was all shocked, dad took the team and rake back to the barn and came back with the hay wagon. Henry drove the team and I tramped the hay as dad threw it up on the wagon. Dad was a powerful built man in his youth. He packed a lot of muscle on his small frame. Milking all his life by hand gave him forearms that looked like muscle wood and veins that stood out like ropes. He had a bigger fork than Henry and I. He would drive his fork deep in the shock and throw the entire shock onto the wagon. I would walk it down while Henry drove to the next shock.
When the wagon was full, dad got on and Henry took the team to the barn. There was a driveway through the barn. You pulled into the barn from the eve side and went our the other side. In one end of the barn was a hay loft. In the top of the barn was a trolley system. From the trolley system was suspended a hay spear. The wagon was pulled under the hay spear, the spear came down and was pushed into the hay. The trolley was powered by Bunny. There was a set of pulleys and a big braided hemp rope with a ring on it. One of us would unhook Bunny, bring her around the barn and hook her single tree to the ring. Dad would climb into the loft so he could move the hay after it was dropped, I would get on the load of hay and stick the fork, and someone would lead the mare. When all was ready, the one assigned to the horsepower would lead Bunny forward and she would lift the hay, it would go up via block and tackle until the top of the spear would mate with the trolley, then the entire load of hay would rocket back into the loft. The spear sticker would trip the spear and the load of hay would whoosh down into the loft. The horse would stop and the spear sticker would pull back the trolley to set-up for the next load while dad sorted out the hay in the loft with his fork.
Here is a YouTube to show the process and pictures of a spear and the trolley. The YouTube is pretty poor quality in my opinion, I wish our system was still working, it was much better than this. I remember one time, I stuck the spear and then got on top of it with my feet and drove it deep into the load. I locked the dogs and when Bunny took off, the hay with the bed attached was lifted. I yelled to my brother to stop. We got it back together but it sure was funny seeing the whole thing going up.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cuas4eDGo0g
My dad was behind his times. While other farmers in the poor county where I grew up were getting little Ford tractors, dad was moving backwards as fast as he could. We never owned a tractor. We had no running water or indoor plumbing. He bought his farm in 1948. Henry and I were born in 1949 and 1950, respectively. Eddie and Sharon came shortly there after, and Robbie was the baby, 14 years after me.
Dad started the farm with a team of draft horses that came from his dad's farm. I can remember that one was named Queen. Dad bought her from a horse trader named Pete Young. She died when I was maybe 10 at the age of 32. Later he had a team of Belgian Mares, Pat and Bunny. Henry and I would sneak out the door under mom's eye, go to the pasture and play with our mares. Bunny was mine, Pat was Henry's. I would crawl on Bunny by leading her down hill of me and getting a lift from a high spot on the ground. I would lay on her back belly down. I would put my face against her and smell her. I could feel her muscles moving under me. If I slid too far forward, I would slide down her neck and hit the ground in front of her as she was grazing. She never paid any attention to me. I was so brown by the end of summer, my friends teased me at school.
We put our hay up loose. Dad mowed it with the horses using a 5 1/2 foot sickle with the arrow shaped blades that slide back and forth. He raked it with a rake that had hoop shaped teeth that collected the hay from the ground and dumped it in windrows. Henry and I shocked it with pitchforks as dad raked. When the hay was all shocked, dad took the team and rake back to the barn and came back with the hay wagon. Henry drove the team and I tramped the hay as dad threw it up on the wagon. Dad was a powerful built man in his youth. He packed a lot of muscle on his small frame. Milking all his life by hand gave him forearms that looked like muscle wood and veins that stood out like ropes. He had a bigger fork than Henry and I. He would drive his fork deep in the shock and throw the entire shock onto the wagon. I would walk it down while Henry drove to the next shock.
When the wagon was full, dad got on and Henry took the team to the barn. There was a driveway through the barn. You pulled into the barn from the eve side and went our the other side. In one end of the barn was a hay loft. In the top of the barn was a trolley system. From the trolley system was suspended a hay spear. The wagon was pulled under the hay spear, the spear came down and was pushed into the hay. The trolley was powered by Bunny. There was a set of pulleys and a big braided hemp rope with a ring on it. One of us would unhook Bunny, bring her around the barn and hook her single tree to the ring. Dad would climb into the loft so he could move the hay after it was dropped, I would get on the load of hay and stick the fork, and someone would lead the mare. When all was ready, the one assigned to the horsepower would lead Bunny forward and she would lift the hay, it would go up via block and tackle until the top of the spear would mate with the trolley, then the entire load of hay would rocket back into the loft. The spear sticker would trip the spear and the load of hay would whoosh down into the loft. The horse would stop and the spear sticker would pull back the trolley to set-up for the next load while dad sorted out the hay in the loft with his fork.
Here is a YouTube to show the process and pictures of a spear and the trolley. The YouTube is pretty poor quality in my opinion, I wish our system was still working, it was much better than this. I remember one time, I stuck the spear and then got on top of it with my feet and drove it deep into the load. I locked the dogs and when Bunny took off, the hay with the bed attached was lifted. I yelled to my brother to stop. We got it back together but it sure was funny seeing the whole thing going up.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cuas4eDGo0g
