GRASS BURRS

I'm pretty sure child labor laws had not been invented in the 1960's or else kids like me would not have been in the East Texas hay fields.

Farmers with coastal bermuda grass fields would fertilize them puppies at the beginning of spring and pray like a life-time old maid for rain (at the right time). When sun and rain came together in appropriate quantities, the grass would green and grow toward the heavens like the mane on a lion.

These days, farmers will drive powerful diesel tractors with ornately furnished, stereo equipped, air conditioned enclosed cabs as they efficiently lay down neat rows of cut grass to dry for hay. They follow this with other modern equipment to efficiently create tightly bound huge round bales that self seal the outer coat of grass in order for the bale to be stored outdoors.

Not so in the days of yore. Said farmer would go to his trusty one or two cylinder International Harvester, John Deere, Massey Ferguson, or Ford tractor.

The hard working soil tender would then hook a "sickle" cutter to the tracker power takeoff and proceed to slowly ease the sickle thru the field with its cutting blades scissoring back and forth to gently lay down grass. (Now the farmer started praying for it NOT to rain until the hay cure/dried, and was baled, loaded, and stacked under cover in his barn.)

After the hay lying on top cured, usually by the next day, the farmer put a hay rake on the back of the tractor and went back and forth on the field "raking" the hay into one long continuous row for further curing.

Finally on the third day, the farmer would pull a hay baler behind the tractor to make rectangular (45-70 pound) bales of hay out of the dried/cured grass.

Here is where the HAY HAULERS would do their thing.

Hay haulers were generally poor folks who happen to have a pickup and a flat bed trailer, or a truck with a flat bed. They would hire folks who were poorer than they were to walk beside the truck or trailer, pick up the bales of hay by hand, and throw them onto the truck or trailer.

When the transport vehicle was stacked to its limit, the "crew" would go to the barn and unload the hay in the barn.

Here's the catch(s):

1. This work was only done in the afternoon to make sure the hay was dry (think 90-100 degrees and 70% humidity).

2. The bales were held together with two pieces of wire or string. You would have to bend over, grab a wire in each hand, lift the bale, and throw it as high as needed to clear the trailer bed (or the lowest stack of hay on the trailer) (The first few hundred repetitions ain't that bad, the last 900 start to drag)

3. If it was 90 degrees on the outside, it was 120 degrees inside the barn, the barn dust was incredible, and there was no "breeze" blowing, ever.

4. The hay was stacked to the roof of the barn. This was accomplished by building stairsteps with the hay and walking up the stairsteps holding the hay until you got to the top. No space in the interior of the barn was left empty.

5. Some them puppies had East Texas killer grass burrs in them that would tattoo your hide at inopportune times.

6. If you hauled 1,000 bales with 4 people doing the lifting, each hauler handled at least 250 bales. Each bale had to be handled twice (once to get it on the truck, and again to get it stacked in the barn). This factor meant each handled a single bale 500 times. If the bales weighed an average of 50 pounds times 500 bales, this meant when I was 12-13 years old, I was lifting 25,000 pounds in a single hot/humid East Texas day.

Challenge: The heat, muscle cramps, body fluid loss, dust inhalation, and sheer torture was fairly exquisite.

Remedy: We were young, strong, immortal and invulnerable (*we thought).

Oh yeah, we were paid magnificently as well. To pick up a single bale from the field, load it on the trailer, unload and stack it in the barn, we were paid ONE PENNY per bale. That's right sports fans, 1,000 bales in a day would net you a cool $10.

I have tried to repeat a number of positive phrases during my professional life to griping co-workers. Many is the time I have acknowledged their immediate concern, but replied, "I know, but this job sure pays good!"