The Hay Stack

Mowing hay

Narrow Hay Sweep

I am not sure exactly how old I would have been, but I am thinking perhaps only 7 just prior to my 8th birthday. Many tasks on farms took more than just one or two people to accomplish and the age of helpers meant nothing, all that matter was that a person was able. I was able to drive a team of horses at that age, and one horse (especially Jim) was a ‘piece of cake’. My Grandfather, my *Aunt and *Cousin (the one who I am not sure if he purposely didn’t tighten the cinch on Jim or not) had the task of haying. The field had been mowed, and the hay had lain in the field to dry, was raked into rows, and it was now time to stack it. To accomplish this, you needed a ‘hay sweep’, which was a long beam with wooden forks sticking out about 6 feet and separated by about 18 or more inches. You would have either a team or just one horse hitched to each end of the device. My Grandfather had one horse (Molly) at one side, and I had Jim at the other. We would move along the rows of hay (with Grandpa giving me heck once in a while – hehe) and the forks would collect the hay. Once the hay sweep was full we then headed for the ‘stack’. On the stack would be my Aunt and my Cousin, each with a three pronged pitch fork, to shape the stack as it grew. They had to make sure the corners were kept square, otherwise the hay would just slide off and you would end up with a little ‘mound’ and not a stack. At one end of the stack would be a ramp, that as the stack grew, it would be raised. Many farmers would use a hoist to lift the hay to the top, but it seems my Grandfather preferred the ramp. Because we used a ramp, our horses had to be hooked onto heavy ropes at least 20 feet ahead of the hay sweep. This was why you needed two people driving, because with the horses being that far ahead of the hay sweep, the reins would be far too long for one person walking behind the implement. Those farmers that used a hoist could walk behind the hay sweep and control both horses. When my Grandfather and I approached the stack, we would each go on different sides and as we proceeded, the beam would take the hay up the ramp, and once it hit the crest of the hay stack, it would flip, leaving the hay. (The reason for the 20 feet of lead for the horses, as the stack got higher the hay sweep would be higher and hence further away from the horses). The hay sweep would then slide off the other end of the stack. We would then go further out into the field for our next load and at same time, my Aunt and Cousin had to ‘stack’ the load before we got back, to once again repeat the process. Once my Cousin accidentally (he said) hit his mother in the foot with his fork and punctured her shoe and her foot, drawing blood. Her foot was covered with the hay and my cousin could not see it. You had to know my Aunt to really appreciate her reaction – hehehe! Again, one has to wonder if my cousin, perhaps as with the cinch, really did not know her foot was there! I do not remember at this age, but with other haying seasons (as I got older) we would salt the stack and sometimes put  'air passages through the stack, to prevent **instantaneous combustion, as the heat in the middle of a stack could get very high.  It is really amazing when you think about how much I was allowed to do, and it was not a game, but part of being able enough ‘to do’.

* My Aunt was a single mother and lived with my Grandfather, doing the “woman’s” work of the day. This usually meant more than any man would do, as most women did all the cooking, house cleaning, laundry, canning, preserving, etc. and then most were expected to help with the chores and other outside tasks. How many other tasks would depend on how many people were needed to perform them.

**When the internal temperature of hay rises above 130 degrees Fahrenheit (55 degrees C), a chemical reaction begins to produce flammable gas that can ignite if the temperature goes high enough.

                                                                                                                                                                  

The Orange Mask!

Sorry - cannot figure out how to

change this to ORANGE

Please think orange when viewing!



I am going to have minor surgery in a little over a week. I have been waiting quite some time for a date, and it has finally arrived. It is minor, but they will be using a general aesthetic, which gives me reason to share these vivid memories. Over my life, I have had my share or operations, and consequently have been the recipient of various kinds of anaesthesia. Two of them I remember vividly; one was as an adult, and I was told by the anaesthesiologist as he put a needle in my arm, that I would taste garlic, and man was he right, but the beauty of it was, the next instant I was asleep. Time travel back the winter of 1945 and the other anaesthesia called ether. I had the pleasure (I lie) of being put to sleep twice with ether, once in 45 and again in 46. They were not pleasant experiences! A preamble up to the first time; I have said in previous Blogs, I lived about 70 miles north of Edmonton (the nearest hospital). We had a nurse that lived in our town, and she was our one and only health care giver (she was fantastic) – no doctors anywhere, and that woman, I am sure, saved many lives. According to my mother, the doctor said because of her astute diagnoses, I was most assuredly one of the lives she saved. I do not remember the pain I must have been in, but I do remember other parts of my ‘adventure’ – I remember the nurse and my mother watching as I sat (somewhat embarrassed) on a rather large pot, emptying my bowels – that is all I remember… hehe – do not remember being given the enema, just remember sitting there wondering where was all this stuff coming from and if I was going to fill the pot to the top! My mother relates that the nurse phoned the Doctor in Edmonton and told him she thought my appendix was going burst. He told her to get me into Edmonton immediately. This sounds easy, right – NOT, war time and there was still gas rationing. My mother tells about going to many people before she found someone with enough gas and the willingness to drive us to Edmonton (there had just been a heavy snow storm). I do not remember the ride but do remember a nurse (all in white) helping me out of the car and into a wheel chair. It seems she was a friend of a friend, that they arranged to meet me, so I would not be too afraid. (A friendly face, type thing). The car and my Mother sped away almost immediately – and I was alone. I remember the nurse putting me in a huge white bath tub (remember, we did not have indoor plumbing – our tubs was just a big silver coloured metal thing in the middle of the floor – this was the first ‘bath tub that I had ever seen) and I remember the nurse scrubbing me. I then remember being wheeled on a table and entering a room with very bright lights. Then the orange mask – you do not forget the orange mask! They put the mask over my mouth and nose, and the next thing; I was seeing a misty orange windmill going around and around (my Mother said when she had ether, she saw orange fence posts going by, like riding in a car). My windmill  stopped for a second then went around and around again. I do not remember waking up, just being in a room the next day. I guess I must have been pretty sick as I was in a ‘room for one’, back then they had wards, where there would be 12 or more beds in one large room. I am not sure the exact visiting time, but think it was perhaps 7 – 8:30 every night - unlike today, where it is pretty well anytime; you were not allowed to visit any other time. Because of the restricted time, you can imagine how crowded the hallways would be with people all coming in at the same time to visit. I was told my mother was going to come and visit me, and I was sitting up in my bed – when all of a sudden masses of people were walking by my room, including my Mother and Aunt “gulp’ – ‘who were they going to visit in another room?’ ‘Don’t they even want to say hello to me?” – Tear time, I was devastated that they had not come to see me. They just walked right passed my room! But in a couple of minutes they showed up – I guess they did not see the room number or something. I think I was in the hospital for about 2 weeks (not like today, where they send you home as soon as you can pee!!!!). The Doctor told my mother that he had had my appendix sent to the University of Alberta for teaching purposes, as to what an appendix was like just before they would burst. My second adventure with ether happened a little over a year later, when I had to have my tonsils out. In the days of yore, if they ever took out your tonsils, they automatically removed your adenoids too. When you were told someone had a tonsillectomy, it was usually stated, they had their tonsils and adenoids out. Now, as you are aware and I most certainly was, I was now a pro at being in a hospital and going ‘under the knife’. I knew everything, what was going to happen, etc. So naturally, this time when I entered the operating room, I was bawling and hollering my head off!!!! No way were they going to put the terrible smelling mask over my face again, no way – no way! So anyway, there is the orange windmill again, going around and around, and again, it stopped – I remembering trying to tell the Doctor he could go ahead now, as I must be asleep. Then as before, the windmill resumed going around and around and around. I am sure I had a sore throat after and perhaps ice cream, but it was in the ‘ward’ with the dozen other boys that I remember. At one point I was crying my eyes out, and a voice hollered ‘be quiet you cry baby’ and another ‘older’ voice saying, “leave him alone, he is just lonely and afraid”. The older boys comments have stuck with me to this day, I am sure he grew up to be a very understanding, compassionate man. I was in the hospital for a number of days, and that is where I learned the words to the song “Abba Dabba Dabba Said The Monkey To The Chimp”!  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qImKTFEHI2w&feature=related It was played often on the radio, which was heard in the ward, and every time it played we all sang along. I would use that song at Halloween if I was asked to sing a song for my treat. Everyone – rejoice that someone discovered an anaesthesia better than ether! – Truly, it was not a very nice experience! I have traveled through Holland many times, I have been lucky – no one, it seemed, had painted their windmills orange.

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