Make hay while the sun shines.
Most everyone has heard that old saying and knows what it means. But if you’re a farmer with some cows to get through the winter, you especially give that plenty of thought. You watch the weather forecast with an attentive eye for several days of sunny weather in a row. Then you hope the weather people know what they are talking about as you hook your mower to the tractor and start around the fields of clover and hay grasses. Once the hay is cut, then the farmer has to wait for the sun to do its work and dry it out. That’s when you really hope no pop up thunderstorm will decide to hover over your fields. Sunshine is what the hay needs. Hay that isn’t properly dried out before it’s baled won’t keep and can combust.
So, with the sunshine and the wide open fields, it can get hot in a hayfield. I’m sure the farmers of old would think today’s farmers have it easy with tractors and machinery to do much of the work. I think about the farmers in the early days with their scythes out there slicing down the hay. Then they would rake it up with wide rakes before making stacks with pitchforks. If they were lucky enough to have a horse and wagon or sled they might take the hay to a barn and stack it inside. Come winter, they’d have to fork out some of that loose hay to their livestock from the haystacks or that in their barn lofts. I’m sure the farmers thought Christmas had come when they got horsedrawn mowers and rakes. They still stacked the hay then. My husband remembers helping his dad do that because his father didn’t have a tractor and baler and had to do hay the old fashioned way. Here’s a link that shows some of those old haying tools.
When I was a kid, Dad had a baler that made square bales. Some farmers had the kind that kicked the bales up on the wagon, but not Dad. We often had to be out in that hot hayfield carrying the haybales over to the wagon for him to stack several layers high to haul back to the barn where he pitched the bales one by one up through the hayloft window. We would be in the loft to pull the haybales back away from the window to make room for more. Dad would then come up into the loft to stack the bales neatly around the loft. As hot as it could be in the hayfield, it could be even hotter in that loft with no air blowing to cool you off. But the cows had feed for the winter.
Then somebody came up with roll bales and haying season was changed forever. Now a farmer can sit up in his air-conditioned cab and pull that baler to spit out those round rolls without ever leaving his tractor seat. Unless he has troubles and for sure, farmers always have some troubles with their equipment or something goes wrong to make sure they get to do their fair share of sweating in the hayfield.
After they make the bales, the farmers line it up in rows along the edge of the field or put it in sheds or barns. Then come winter, they go out with spikes on their tractors they poke into the center of the bales to take them out to the cows. Even when the snow is flying and piled up deep the way it is in this picture, the cows have to be fed.
Did seeing that picture cool you off?
Baling hay is as American an activity as the apple pie and hot dogs. Next time you enjoy a hamburger off a grill at a cookout, you might remember that farmer out there making hay while the sun shines and doing some hard work along the way.
A couple of years ago, I did a different post about haying season on a Labor Day weekend. If you haven’t already read more about hay than you ever thought you would, here’s the link.
Did you grow up on a farm where at certain times of the year the sun shining didn’t mean a trip to the lake but a trip to the hayfield?
Comments 20
Hi Ann,
Just came across your blogs and love them. When we sit on our deck in Bardstown, Ky we see almost the exact same picture of hay field in our back yard. It has row of trees just like the pic too. We sit here and watch deer and turkey come through our field morning and evening.
Looking forward to reading all your blogs and books!
Do you live in KY or were you raised here?
Author
I am a native Kentuckian, Grace. I live just over the hill from where I grew up. I was a farm girl and still am although my husband no longer farms. So, I just get to enjoy walking in the fields and woods now here on our farm. I don’t live too farm from you – just up the Bluegrass Pkwy in Anderson County. Country life is the best.
I remember tramping hay with my friend on her family’s hay wagon. Their draft horses pulled the wagon along while her dad and granddad tossed the hay up onto the wagon with pitchforks. We kids would tramp it down as they added more and more. Eventually, we’d be high on a big load of hay. Then we’d head to the barn where they’d use big hooks to grab a bunch of hay and the horses would pull away so the hay could be transferred to the hayloft. Once or twice, we’d get to climb up on the huge horse and sit there while they put the hay in the loft. Tramping hay was hot, itchy work but if we helped, we’d get to play afterwards. We had a lot of fun on the farm.
Author
I wouldn’t change growing up on a farm for any other childhood, Lee. I guess once a farm girl always a farm girl.
But I never had to stomp or tramp down the hay. I can see you and your friend working at that and probably swatting away the sweatbugs and flies. That did have to be hot and itchy work. Those big horses gave you plenty of sitting space, I’m sure. Thanks for sharing your haying memories.
I remember being in the hayfield only once. There were hay bales and my brother and I worked together to get a couple of those on the wagon. We were very young and looking back I don’t know how we managed to get them on the wagon, but farm kids are made different I guess.
I’ve seen my Daddy in the hayfield enough, but usually making rolls of hay not bales.
Author
You came along at a better time when haying meant rolling up those bales and moving them around with a tractor instead of having to lift them up on wagons and haul them to the barn, April. Sometimes you have to wonder what the next best thing might be.
And yes, I would say farm kids do have a different attitude about what work they can do.
I didn’t live on a farm year round but I did spend every summer growing up on my great grandparents farm. It was a dairy and tobacco farm. So sunny and hot days didn’t mean a trip to the lake, though the lake was literally right down the road. But working towards making sure the cows were going to be feed in the winter and income making crop was doing good.
Author
I hope you got to go to the lake now and again, Carissa, to go along with learning how to work in those hayfields or wherever. We always got a few trips to the creek worked in on times when the crops were laid by. That was the time between planting, keeping out the weeds, and harvesting.
I grew up on a tobacco farm. That crop took some work but it was a money maker for most small farmers around where I grew up . My husband’s father always had a dairy, so he was helping with the milking before school by the time he was ten.
I didn’t have that experience but my husband did. His whole family worked on the farm, mother father, and 14 children.
Author
Fourteen kids. That’s a big family, Connie. More unusual now than it was back years ago although not long ago I met a young girl, high school age, who was one of fourteen kids. It’s noticeable now when you hear about a family with that many kids. Sounds as if your husband’s parents had plenty of help on the farm.
I never worked in the hayfields but my brother did growing up. It was bales that had to be stacked on a truck and hauled to the barn.
Author
That’s the kind of haymaking I remember too, Lucy, except I didn’t have any brothers. But we didn’t do that much in the hayfields. Dad did most of the hard work.
I remember working in the hay fields ” the old fashioned way ” . Grandpa never had a tractor or a baler. He had 2 faithful mules named Lije and Joe who pulled the mower. Then at the appropriate time they would be hitched to the rake which would form the long lines of hay. After it dried we would all work with pitch forks and throw the hay onto the old farm truck . The men would pitch it up into the barn loft for the stock. It was always very hot !! Before this method , grandpa and the workers pitched the hay around 3 poles in the field forming hay stacks. I did not participate in this as I was a small child but I remember the stacks. These are cherished memories of many years ago on our old family farm in Owsley Co KY.
Author
Owsley County. That’s interesting because that’s the county I picked as the setting for my packhorse bookwoman book, Along a Storied Trail. Maybe you walready told me that and I forgot.
You do know about the old way of making hay. I can barely remember when my dad did haystacks before he got his baler. I think I only remember it because of one catching on fire once. I can only imagine how distressing it was to see all their hard work go up in smoke.
I spent a lot of time in the hay field,I remember when my sister and I worked together to get those square bales on the wagon.Then when we got to the barn Daddy had a hay elevator to carry the hay up to the hayloft. We loved the hayloft, it was the place to play ” house” and if you were brave enough it was the place to take the dare to jump out of the window to the ground.I remember, every single time, after I jumped before I hit the ground I would think” why did I do this” . It always tuned out ok though.My feet would sting from hitting the ground,barefooted ,but we never got injured.
The hayloft was also the place that the barn cat would have her kittens and my best friend and I felt it was our duty to tame every kitten born on the farm.
You were asking about hay making weather but you took me down a trip on memory lane. I do remember weather being oh so important to us as a farming family,we kids always knew to be quiet when the weather came on so Daddy could plan.
I am thankful for farmers, I still have farmers in my family and I’m afraid not everyone appreciates what they do for us all.
Author
I enjoyed going with you down your memory lane, Lisa. My dad finally got one of those hay elevators after I was grown. Had to be easier than pitching the bales up into that window. My sisters and I also played in our hayloft but you had to watch where you stepped. There were some broken planks in the floor here and there. We did hunt for those kittens too, but sometimes just had to wait for the kitten to get old enough to come out of hiding. However, I was never brave enough to jump out of the hayloft window. Ours was pretty high or at least, I thought so.
Haying time was an important time to watch the weather. Then there were those dry times and we watched with hope for a forecast of rain.
Yes. I remember those days. Some years we cut and baled our own hay and still didn’t have enough. Then Dad would have to buy more. He’d pile high the bed of his pickup, tie it down and drive it home. Then we’d have to throw it in the hayloft and stack those square bales. Since I was the oldest of four girls ( alas,no brothers to help), I got to partake of all aspects. I drove the tractor one time, and threw square bales onto the trailer or into the barn and always helped stack. Hot, sweaty, itchy work but seeing those bales stacked in the barn to feed our horses through a long winter always made it worthwhile.
Author
No brothers in my family either, Robin, and Dad didn’t like to hire help. He was a guy who didn’t mind hard work and he figured out how to do whatever it was on his own or with the help of us girls. Driving the tractor was always the best job, but not one I got to do often with two girls older than me. I did once bushhog a field just because I loved driving the tractor. My mom wasn’t excited about me doing it. She thought I’d get hurt and so, she came to the field and sat watching me. She was the best mom.
There is pleasure in seeing that hay put up for the winter. A sense of accomplishment and security. Sort of like seeing all the jars of canned produce on one’s shelves.
As a kid, if I wasn’t in school, my time was split between my grandparents farm or with my other librarian grandmother. I know how hard farm life can be, although my brothers helped in the fields and barn while I helped in the kitchen with putting food up for the winter.
I raised my kids on a farm and some of them still work those hayfields. My oldest son is out there today. And my not-quite 16 yr old grandson is busy working for those farmers that also need another job outside of farm work. Logan loves nothing better than sitting on his tractor (that he rebuilt himself), making hay and bush-hogging fields. In the winter he stays busy putting hay out for cattle and cleaning driveways. I teased him yesterday that he had it easier than his great-grandparents had. I’m not so sure he’d enjoy it as much without modern equipment. But he certainly has farmer stock running through his veins.
It’s beyond hot out there today, and I’ve said a prayer for those who have to be outside. I’m very thankful for every a farmer does!
Author
I think maybe you have the best of both worlds, Lavon, when you have grandparents to visit on the farm and then another grandparent in a library. Books and farm animals. Thank you for sharing about your grandson. With boys like that coming along maybe farming still has a great future. It is a hard job and with the trouble of many financial setbacks when things don’t go well.
Looks like we are going to have a reprieve from the heat for a few days before it comes bounding back. Those prayers for the outdoor workers are much needed.