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Saga of the Sanpitch Volume 13, 1981 - Sanpete County

Saga of the Sanpitch Volume 13, 1981 - Sanpete County

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The sun was shining, <strong>the</strong> sky was blue, <strong>the</strong>re may have been a few fleecy clouds; blackbirds, crows, and<br />

magpies kept me company— far enough away from me to consider <strong>the</strong>mselves safe from any kind <strong>of</strong> attack.<br />

The blackbirds may have sung a few sweet melodies, with trills and flourishes, and meadow larks told me,<br />

perhaps, in what is still, to me, <strong>the</strong> most appealing <strong>of</strong> all singing commercials, that I would sleep that night in<br />

"a pretty little town." At least, let us suppose that those were <strong>the</strong> idyllic conditions on that fine summer<br />

afternoon, for <strong>the</strong>y would have made <strong>the</strong> day perfect.<br />

The hay had been mowed and raked into windrows to "cure." It was my job to rake it into cocks for<br />

loading with pitchforks onto hayracks.<br />

Alone that day, I decided to have some fun by making an immense cock, enough to provide more than<br />

half-a-load <strong>of</strong> hay. A full load usually weighed about a ton.<br />

The rake used <strong>the</strong>n was a self-dump rake, with a row <strong>of</strong> curved tines between two wheels that were<br />

five feet in diameter and nine feet apart. 4 It had a driver's seat on top. The horses were trained to straddle <strong>the</strong><br />

windrows as <strong>the</strong>y pulled <strong>the</strong> rake to <strong>the</strong> place where <strong>the</strong> driver “tripped” it by stepping on a pedal and causing<br />

<strong>the</strong> times to flip up and leave <strong>the</strong> hay in a pile.<br />

I raked hay from all directions until that cock was probably big enough to provide 10-12 minutes <strong>of</strong><br />

pitching time for two men. Its diameter must have been as wide as <strong>the</strong> hayrack was long. It was a masterpiece<br />

<strong>of</strong> teen-ager foolish fun.<br />

I can't remember what my bro<strong>the</strong>rs and my fa<strong>the</strong>r said when <strong>the</strong>y saw it. Since <strong>the</strong> oldest one didn't<br />

like to squander time he may have said I probably wasted half-an-hour horsing around; <strong>the</strong> one three years<br />

older than I, with <strong>the</strong> rivalry that sometimes prevails between bro<strong>the</strong>rs nearly <strong>the</strong> same age, might have<br />

mumbled that that was about what you'd expect from a dumb kid bro<strong>the</strong>r. My fa<strong>the</strong>r? Well, he could have<br />

removed his felt hat, scratched his head—and chuckled quietly. He was like that. I believe he knew that fun on<br />

<strong>the</strong> farm was almost as important for teen-agers as learning how to work. I wish I could thank him for <strong>the</strong><br />

lesson and <strong>the</strong> fun, but he has been gone for fifty-six long years.<br />

Sources:<br />

1<br />

I am aware that <strong>the</strong> Jackson-fork is still used on some <strong>Sanpete</strong> farms for stacking baled hay. An interview with Reuel E.<br />

Christensen, April <strong>1981</strong>, provided this information.<br />

2<br />

0n April 9, <strong>1981</strong>, I noted that <strong>the</strong> ancient coal-storage sheds used by my fa<strong>the</strong>r and ano<strong>the</strong>r coal dealer are still standing<br />

alongside <strong>the</strong> short railroad spur tracks. These sheds always contained a supply <strong>of</strong> coal to fill orders at any time <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> year.<br />

3<br />

When I read this paper to my wife, she didn't know that a hay-cock is a small pile <strong>of</strong> hay.<br />

4<br />

A nine-foot rake could pick up two swaths <strong>of</strong> hay, each one four-and-a-half feet wide—<strong>the</strong> width <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> cutter-bar on a<br />

mower. These are some <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> exact bits <strong>of</strong> information provided to me by Reuel Christensen. My thanks to him.<br />

FANTASIES RE-LIVED<br />

Halbert S. Greaves<br />

1904 Herbert Avenue<br />

Salt Lake City, Utah 84108<br />

Pr<strong>of</strong>essional Division, First Place Poetry<br />

Remember youthful dreams, hopes and fears<br />

That you have kept alive throughout <strong>the</strong> years;<br />

Look back when old—and <strong>the</strong>n, behold!<br />

The world <strong>of</strong> youthful magic reappears.<br />

x x x x x x x x x x x<br />

21

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