I can recall

Wewild

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Another post about feeding square bales dredged up a memory.

I can recall when my granddad started going to work after daylight. It was in the winter of 1987/88 and he was over 80. He had a falling out with the Mr. Holcomb from whom we rented a pasture. It seems Granddad didn't approve of Mr. Holcomb scraping the road that we had cut ruts in all summer. It filled up the ruts up with soft dirt and made it rough for a 2 wheel drive to go in and get the square bales and feed them. His really nice barn was built with the entrance near a spring head which made it all the worse. Granddad told dad to move the cows to another place but dad couldn't make it happen in time. At the same time I had decided to go back to school and needed some help so I became my dad's solution. I would go up to granddad's 6 days a week and pick up his helper/employee and we would go feed 25 bales that weighed in the 70's. He had cut the weight down when 50% of his labor force became teenagers as they couldn't handle the weight his previous men where use to.

I did this for two winters and he always insisted on picking up Jim, the employee, every morning. I gained so much from this interaction with my Granddad as it taught me much more than I had learned before and seemed to create a bond between us that continued until his death.

I miss him but don't miss hauling all those square bales during the summer. There is really no way we could make it that way now.

After I dropped off Jim and I went off to school, they loaded up and went and fed all the rest.

What's in your memory bank?
 
Along those same lines, I remember coming home each day and throwing the squares out of the second floor of the barn down onto an old 63 Ford F350 stake truck as soon as I got off the bus. Took me a couple years to learn how to toss them so they stacked right when they hit the truck what seemed like a hundred feet below (probably about 10 feet, if that). Dad worked swing shift so my Grampa and me would feed each evening. He'd drive and I'd ride shotgun, opening the gates into each field and when we got there I'd get on the back while he drove and pat out the hay far enough apart so they couldn't mess on one pile while they ate off the other. My favorite thing about that old truck was the headliner, had a big dip in the middle right over the gear shift. A mouse lived up there more often than not and I'd hop in every day and tap the headliner just to see if the mouse would hop out, he'd usually hit the dash right over the radio, then the seat between us and disappear under the dash or seat. Grampa said he wasn't hurting anyone so we left him alone. That old truck is still setting on my parents place, kind of hurts me now to look at it.

cfpinz
 
Throwing the hay off of the loft in winter was a whole lot better than putting them up in the loft during the July and August heat. There were no round bales in the 60's.

Earlier memories was when they'd put the truck in granny gear and my job was to keep the truck going straight between the rows of hay. No power steering. The front tire would hit a gopher mound and I had to hang on for deer life. My legs weren't long enough to reach any pedals and I'd have to sit up on my knees, feet in the seat. When we got to the end of the row they'd grab the wheel and turn the truck through the window. Then I would get the wheel again.

I remember daddy driving cattle across the rice canals in Jefferson County and I was on the saddle in front of him. Those are some of my first memories.

My paternal Grandaddy passed on in '85. My Dad passed on in '93. I should have paid more attention to them and their cattle knowledge in my youth.
 
cfpinz":3vx0ftnu said:
Along those same lines, I remember coming home each day and throwing the squares out of the second floor of the barn down onto an old 63 Ford F350 stake truck as soon as I got off the bus. Took me a couple years to learn how to toss them so they stacked right when they hit the truck what seemed like a hundred feet below (probably about 10 feet, if that). Dad worked swing shift so my Grampa and me would feed each evening. He'd drive and I'd ride shotgun, opening the gates into each field and when we got there I'd get on the back while he drove and pat out the hay far enough apart so they couldn't mess on one pile while they ate off the other. My favorite thing about that old truck was the headliner, had a big dip in the middle right over the gear shift. A mouse lived up there more often than not and I'd hop in every day and tap the headliner just to see if the mouse would hop out, he'd usually hit the dash right over the radio, then the seat between us and disappear under the dash or seat. Grampa said he wasn't hurting anyone so we left him alone. That old truck is still setting on my parents place, kind of hurts me now to look at it.

cfpinz

Thanks. I had forgot the ladders. We use to have to climb ladders to pull out the hay at the second level as there was holes made for this. We also had holes to crawl up through the bottom when we got to the first floor..life was good and I didn't have to worry about a thing.
 
It doesn't have anything to do with hay, but I have 2 older brothers and a younger sister and I remember a whole lot of really good days spent fixing fence as a family. Mom would pack up hamburger and beans - maybe a few potatoes - in the cooler, along with jars of iced tea or water, and off we would go early in the morning. When lunch time came, we would find a nice shade tree, build a fire, and cook lunch using one of those cast iron skillets. We'd eat, rest for a bit, and then get back to finishing the fence. I also remember playing matchstick poker around the kitchen table while a blizzard raged outside, and making, baking, and decorating dozens of sugar cookies at Christmas time. Wonderful memories! :)
 
Another hayloft memory: The two neighbor kids and myself would go up in the loft during the winter and play on top of all the hay, but my Grandpa would always come down to the barn and run us out, never quite understood it. After he passed on, we were cleaning some old hay out the top one day and I figured out why: That's where he kept his jugs stashed. He probably thought us kids were doing some sampling of our own but truth be know we didn't have a clue. Wish he was here now, we'd all get a big laugh out of that.

cfpinz
 
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backhoeboogie":52l6fx52 said:
Throwing the hay off of the loft in winter was a whole lot better than putting them up in the loft during the July and August heat. There were no round bales in the 60's.
I hear what you are saying. No round bales in the 50's either. :cry2:

Even before that when there were no bales I can remember them pitch forking hay onto a wagon to bring it to the barn. Sometimes they would let me ride on top of the load. It was real high and scary.

Hadn't thought about that in a long time.
 
Great post, Wewild. Maybe Macon will start up a nostalgia board for us older folks. Here's some things I remember from 60's and early 70's:

The old milkhouse when the milk was stored in the old milk cans till it was picked up. Later got the pipeline direct from the cow to the bulk tank. State of the art in those days.

The old Red River threshing machine. Thought it was the biggest thing on earth when I was 5 or 6. Now it would be tiny compared to the stuff used nowadays. Anyone else remember shocking oats and threshing?

Picking rocks. Anyone who farms rocky ground can relate to this one. Probably the one thing I detested the most. I would have rather shoveled crap for a day than pick rocks for half of one.

Walking along the hay windrows and shaking out the bunches with a pitchfork so they'd dry faster. Also rounding the corners.

Tin cans on the muffler.

Parking the old H on a hill so you could get her started next time.

Starting the old 400 on gas and then switching it to diesel when the engine got warmed up a bit.

These are just off the top of my head. Gotta be hundreds of memories like those rattling around in there. Lots of haying stories, but I'll stop now.
 
VanC":1lkbqqxq said:
Tin cans on the muffler.

Parking the old H on a hill so you could get her started next time.

I had forgot the tin cans on the mufller.

The 4020 we feed with today use to set the same way in the winter. The 4230 has a safety so it wouldn't crank in gear.

Thanks.
 
Any body on here old enough to remember what a Roe Binder was to put up hay with and what process it took tp get the hay to hay yard. Probably have to go back to early 1950's or earlier to have used one, it was before the square balers
 
VanC":3gbk45r2 said:
Parking the old H on a hill so you could get her started next time.

It is only in the last few years that I have gotten out of the habit of looking for downhill facing parking spots.
Modern automobiles start %1000 better than the old ones started.
It's going to 13 F here tonite. In the morning, everthing will start. 25 yr ago I'd have been looking at a long morning starting trucks, cars and tractors.
 
Does anyone remember the old post hole diggers? I am not talking about those store bought ones. I am talking about the ones with blades built out of split pipe halves. You couldn't dull those on rock and they went straight through roots. They never bend on the blades. They were so heavy that when they hit the ground they dug in with their own weight.

This thread got me to recollecting the other day. Today I had the cutting torch out and thought, "what the heck." I got a short piece of 4 inch pipe and laid it right beside another piece and ran a file down the top of the two. The result was a scribe dead center down the length of pipe. I cut the scribe out. Then I turned the pipe over and scribed it the same way 180 degrees and cut out two halves. Then I cheated. I went and got an old pair of broken store bought post hole diggers and scribed the half moon using those diggers as a guide. I fired the torch back up and the ends are perfectly rounded now.

So I now have to blades built out of 4 inch schedule 160 pipe. I am going to weld the eyes and handle receivers on them soon. I am going to burn my initials in them with welding rod. (these better not disappear from the place) Then I am going to heat them up red hot and temper them in oil.

I'll probably make handles out of some 1 inch thin wall pipe I have. I haven't decided yet. Home made wood handles would be nostalgic.
 
backhoeboogie":2fxx9kkz said:
Does anyone remember the old post hole diggers? I am not talking about those store bought ones. I am talking about the ones with blades built out of split pipe halves. You couldn't dull those on rock and they went straight through roots. They never bend on the blades. They were so heavy that when they hit the ground they dug in with their own weight.

This thread got me to recollecting the other day. Today I had the cutting torch out and thought, "what the heck." I got a short piece of 4 inch pipe and laid it right beside another piece and ran a file down the top of the two. The result was a scribe dead center down the length of pipe. I cut the scribe out. Then I turned the pipe over and scribed it the same way 180 degrees and cut out two halves. Then I cheated. I went and got an old pair of broken store bought post hole diggers and scribed the half moon using those diggers as a guide. I fired the torch back up and the ends are perfectly rounded now.

So I now have to blades built out of 4 inch schedule 160 pipe. I am going to weld the eyes and handle receivers on them soon. I am going to burn my initials in them with welding rod. (these better not disappear from the place) Then I am going to heat them up red hot and temper them in oil.

I'll probably make handles out of some 1 inch thin wall pipe I have. I haven't decided yet. Home made wood handles would be nostalgic.

I remember digging a lot of post holes by hand, but I don't think the diggers were home made. Anybody ever peel cedar posts? Did a lot of that in the old days.
 
VanC":389nx8wh said:
I remember digging a lot of post holes by hand, but I don't think the diggers were home made. Anybody ever peel cedar posts? Did a lot of that in the old days.

Never peeled cedars but split a lot of cedar for shakes.

dun
 
Ryder":3l7kqjku said:
Even before that when there were no bales I can remember them pitch forking hay onto a wagon to bring it to the barn. Sometimes they would let me ride on top of the load. It was real high and scary.

Hadn't thought about that in a long time.

The cows had gotten into the barn and tore up a 5X6 round bale enough that the bale spear would not pick it up. I forked the two-thirds to three-quarters that was left onto the flatbed trailer and then into the bale feeder yesterday. When I got back in the house I told the wife that everything about the good ol' days was not all good! :)
 
I can remember riding on the horse-drawn wagon with grandpa while dad and my uncles walked along side picking the corn by hand. When we got to the barn it was all hand tossed up into a bin in the loft. That would have been right around 1960, when I was 6. Our homemade head catcher is made from parts off grandpa's old horse-drawn corn planter. It's crude, but I wouldn't take anything for it. It will stay even if we buy a real one!
 
Pouring milk through the strainer and into the 10 gallon cans and keeping them in a cooler until picked up.
Next was the 5 gallon milk pail that hung on a strap under the cow and then pour into a bucket and carry to the milk tank.
Then the pipeline milking machine.
Filling a trench silo with an old truck and booms and slings during the hot august weather. Feeding it out with a pitchfork and pickup in the winter.
Using a sickle mower, then a crimper and then hauling in all the small square bales.
Hauling out and feeding all the small square bales. Some pastures were smooth enough to put the truck in low and jump out and get in the back and cut the strings and feed the hay out as the truck went on it's own and then jump in right quick before it headed off a hill or into a tree. Other pastures were too steep and you just had to get out and feed 6-8 bales per stop.
Carrying buckets of ashes in the truck to use on the snow and ice each time we got stuck. We would pour what we had left out onto the hilly road so it would be better the next day.
In one barn loft, we would feed the bales out of the center first because the basketball goal was at the far end, so we had a small lane to play basketball that got wider as we fed more hay. Round bales came along, so we didnt use that loft, so we put in plywood flooring and lights and a goal at each end. Became the place for all the neighbor farm kids to play at night and on weekends
At 5 years old, steering the tractor and wagon or the truck to pick up the square bales in the field.
Taking a break when lunch came to the field to cool off in the river or creek.
Mom driving around the area to load up 9 kids to take to town each Saturday to play in the area little league baseball game. Riding in the back of the pickup that evening eating the stuff we got at the dairy queen as she delivered each kid back home.
Walking on the hills with a hand seeder sowing cane in front of the bulldozer and disk each May. The seeder would cover 3 trips by the disk. But those old rocky hills sure were steep
Going to the sales barn and getting one of those great "salesbarn cheeseburgers"
Too many enjoyable memories to count, but these are a few.
 
stocky":35x2fd2q said:
Pouring milk through the strainer and into the 10 gallon cans and keeping them in a cooler until picked up.


Next was the 5 gallon milk pail that hung on a strap under the cow and then pour into a bucket and carry to the milk tank.
Then the pipeline milking machine.
I thought milk haulers were the strongest men in the world the way they could pick up those 10 gallon cans and load them on the milk truck.
My life's ambition was to get strong enough to pick up a 10 gallon can of milk and lift it up and into the cooler. I tried and tried and struggled and strained. Finally one day I made it. :)
I waited for the trumpets to sound and bells to ring in celebration of my mighty deed.
There was only silence. :(

Were those Surge milking machines, with the strap?
 
Ryder":2rn5yw7i said:
Were those Surge milking machines, with the strap?

When the dairy went to automatic milkers instead of hand miling that's the brank they had painted on the barn. Up till that time, that was the most amazing thing I had ever seen.

dun
 

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