Glad you wrote this! We had an old orange Case baler with an air cooled Wisconsin engine pulled by a 1948 Massey Harris tractor. When I was on the wagon I learned the same dance to keep my footing but as I got taller and stronger I spent all day in the mow stacking bales. You don't get fat doing that, and when we were all caught up on our small farm I hired out to neighbors with much bigger operations. My dad called them "big outfits". I may have made a dollar an hour tops but they fed us like kings at noon so we had the strength to go till dark. It would do others well to get a taste of what it was like during haying season, so I have no problem with the length of your prose! I don't know how else you could convey the experience?
Thanks for always sharing stories that help some of us relive our childhood where things were so much simpler and less complicated. My grandparents had a crop farm that supplies many of the grocers in the Eau Claire area, it was their living, so it meant a lot to me to help them all summer long. I also remember speding time at relatives haying from sun up to sun down, the true days of hardwork that many young one will never know.
I look forward to you messages every week, the highlight to my week...
Thank you Michael for sharing the memories of my brothers and haying. I, too, have fond memories of haying and growing up on the farm. Enjoyed this podcast so much. Thank you.
I am Jim Baalrud's wife Laura, Jim would have loved listening to this and I will be sharing it with my family. We always teased Jim that he was a perfect example of how " you can take the boy from the farm, but you can't take the farm from the boy".
We still have tractors and farm equipment-and we aren't farmers. Jim could talk about farming for hours.
Laura, I was so sorry to hear this news. Not being sure who to contact, I just sent a note to Peggy the other day that I asked her to share. Thank you for reaching out. How fondly I recall him. How fortunate I was to grow up in that neighborhood.
I rode the rack but mostly worked the barns stacking hay. Most crews were paid a PENNY a bale, but we were paid $1.25 an hour by this one farmer. We made sure we didn't mess up that pay situation. During break the farmer's wife provided cake or cookies and lemonade or tea. Not many of us left from that crew of 5. One killed in VN war, one by his own hand, one natural.....but Oh, the memories for me and tales to bore my wife. Thank you, Mike, for the memories!
Could not find anyone to bale my hay this past summer. Swathed it but no one wants to small bale anymore. Big squares or rounds only. I said I would do all the handling but it isn’t worth their time.
This really brings back memories. Sounds very romantic when you aren't in the mow! Once when a future brother-in-law wanted to impress dad, he showed up to help bale in a pair of cut off blue jeans and tennis shoes with no socks. Nothing else. By the end of the day he looked like 150 pounds of ground beef. Good times!
I was on top of the five bale stack because at 90 pounds I was sometimes lighter than the bales. When I jumped off the nine stack I went straight through the rotten floor board of the wagon. The farmer on the tractor was deaf, so my buddy jumped off to wave at him to stop. Great memories of my last hay baling experience -- thanks for resurrecting those moments.
Ha, apologies! I too have a nearly-repressed memory of sticking my leg through the neighbor's rotten hay wagon. So repressed I'm not sure if it was me or my brother, but it happened!
You have a gift for unlocking precious memories. I smelled, sweated and ached right along with your story. One year, the knotter on the bailer quit working, so we put our youngest girl cousins on either side of the chute to tie each bale by hand. It worked so well, we continued using them for a couple years.
You've unlocked a precious one for me! Reminded that Dad used to trip the knotter early to make mini-bales for my little brother to haul in his red wagon (he grew up to be the real farmer of the bunch).
Thanks for bringing back old memories. My earliest remembrance of haying, grandpa had an AC little round baler, and I was too young to help with that, but I would drive a little go kart Dad had made with a coaster wagon tailing behind, and somebody would set a around bale in the back, and I would pull that up to the house feeling like I was really doing something . by the time I was old enough to actually handle a bale Dad had got a square baler about like the one in your picture but his was a kicker baler. I worked in the hayloft with one of my grandpas, mom, usually unloaded, dad ran the baler and my other grandpa brought in the wagons. Good memories.
This reminds me of my past also. When in high school, some time ago, I had a friend who could bench press 250# and wanted to help bale hay on summer. He came to help a couple times and to his credit he didn't quit when it got hot.
He asked me how I could throw bales all day. I replied that he could do 250# once but I could do 50# all day.
He's already gone too soon but will remember that summer with friends.
I fell thru a hole up to my armpits in Mike H (ovens) back mow once. Jimmy H tugging on my arm while I deflected the bales falling off an elevator that ran across an chords. Still laugh about it.
Hi Michael,
Glad you wrote this! We had an old orange Case baler with an air cooled Wisconsin engine pulled by a 1948 Massey Harris tractor. When I was on the wagon I learned the same dance to keep my footing but as I got taller and stronger I spent all day in the mow stacking bales. You don't get fat doing that, and when we were all caught up on our small farm I hired out to neighbors with much bigger operations. My dad called them "big outfits". I may have made a dollar an hour tops but they fed us like kings at noon so we had the strength to go till dark. It would do others well to get a taste of what it was like during haying season, so I have no problem with the length of your prose! I don't know how else you could convey the experience?
Take care!
Wayne
Thank you! Our neighbors had a Massey-Harris combine. You didn't see a lot of them.
Mike,
Thanks for always sharing stories that help some of us relive our childhood where things were so much simpler and less complicated. My grandparents had a crop farm that supplies many of the grocers in the Eau Claire area, it was their living, so it meant a lot to me to help them all summer long. I also remember speding time at relatives haying from sun up to sun down, the true days of hardwork that many young one will never know.
I look forward to you messages every week, the highlight to my week...
Take care and Happy Holidays my friend!
Thank you Michael for sharing the memories of my brothers and haying. I, too, have fond memories of haying and growing up on the farm. Enjoyed this podcast so much. Thank you.
I am Jim Baalrud's wife Laura, Jim would have loved listening to this and I will be sharing it with my family. We always teased Jim that he was a perfect example of how " you can take the boy from the farm, but you can't take the farm from the boy".
We still have tractors and farm equipment-and we aren't farmers. Jim could talk about farming for hours.
Thank you Michael.
Laura
Laura, I was so sorry to hear this news. Not being sure who to contact, I just sent a note to Peggy the other day that I asked her to share. Thank you for reaching out. How fondly I recall him. How fortunate I was to grow up in that neighborhood.
I rode the rack but mostly worked the barns stacking hay. Most crews were paid a PENNY a bale, but we were paid $1.25 an hour by this one farmer. We made sure we didn't mess up that pay situation. During break the farmer's wife provided cake or cookies and lemonade or tea. Not many of us left from that crew of 5. One killed in VN war, one by his own hand, one natural.....but Oh, the memories for me and tales to bore my wife. Thank you, Mike, for the memories!
Jerry and Marian (Illinois folks)
Ah, yes. The neighbor lady fed us so well during haying I swear we gained weight the harder we worked.
Could not find anyone to bale my hay this past summer. Swathed it but no one wants to small bale anymore. Big squares or rounds only. I said I would do all the handling but it isn’t worth their time.
Yah, my old boss in Wyoming has actually improved his hay market by sticking with small bales. They've become a rarity.
This really brings back memories. Sounds very romantic when you aren't in the mow! Once when a future brother-in-law wanted to impress dad, he showed up to help bale in a pair of cut off blue jeans and tennis shoes with no socks. Nothing else. By the end of the day he looked like 150 pounds of ground beef. Good times!
Literally said, "Ho-oh-oh..." when I got to "cut-off blue jeans" because I knew what came next. Yikers.
I was on top of the five bale stack because at 90 pounds I was sometimes lighter than the bales. When I jumped off the nine stack I went straight through the rotten floor board of the wagon. The farmer on the tractor was deaf, so my buddy jumped off to wave at him to stop. Great memories of my last hay baling experience -- thanks for resurrecting those moments.
Ha, apologies! I too have a nearly-repressed memory of sticking my leg through the neighbor's rotten hay wagon. So repressed I'm not sure if it was me or my brother, but it happened!
You have a gift for unlocking precious memories. I smelled, sweated and ached right along with your story. One year, the knotter on the bailer quit working, so we put our youngest girl cousins on either side of the chute to tie each bale by hand. It worked so well, we continued using them for a couple years.
You've unlocked a precious one for me! Reminded that Dad used to trip the knotter early to make mini-bales for my little brother to haul in his red wagon (he grew up to be the real farmer of the bunch).
Thanks for bringing back old memories. My earliest remembrance of haying, grandpa had an AC little round baler, and I was too young to help with that, but I would drive a little go kart Dad had made with a coaster wagon tailing behind, and somebody would set a around bale in the back, and I would pull that up to the house feeling like I was really doing something . by the time I was old enough to actually handle a bale Dad had got a square baler about like the one in your picture but his was a kicker baler. I worked in the hayloft with one of my grandpas, mom, usually unloaded, dad ran the baler and my other grandpa brought in the wagons. Good memories.
This is lovely and reminds me how dad used to trip the knotter manually so my brother could have a a few mini-bales to put in his wagon.
Seeing the tractor and baler stuck in the hay field reminds me of a farmer telling me.
"It is good weather for growing hay, but not for putting it up"
This voice mail brings back many of my own haying memories.
Thanks for what you do
Jeff
Thank you for giving it your time. I was lucky to grow up that way.
This reminds me of my past also. When in high school, some time ago, I had a friend who could bench press 250# and wanted to help bale hay on summer. He came to help a couple times and to his credit he didn't quit when it got hot.
He asked me how I could throw bales all day. I replied that he could do 250# once but I could do 50# all day.
He's already gone too soon but will remember that summer with friends.
Thanks for this lovely recollection. I am DEFINITELY in the 50# all day category.
I fell thru a hole up to my armpits in Mike H (ovens) back mow once. Jimmy H tugging on my arm while I deflected the bales falling off an elevator that ran across an chords. Still laugh about it.
Great mental image there.