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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Baling hay On the most hot day of the summer Was when the hay fields were ready to cut The smell of the fresh cut hay is something you never forget. As the tractor runs along the field A rabbit runs out of the hay Then a pheasant flys in front of the tractor The hay is cut into rows of loosely long greens piles The next day was to turn the hay so its dry before we make the bales. The rake rolls the hay over. The tractor runs fast. Later that day it is just right to start baling. The big red baler machine was pulled behind the tractor. Then a wagon was attached behind it. One person drove the tractor, one on the wagon to pile The bales into nice,high rows. The machine was loud, with a distinctive sound. Almost a song. 1-2-3 bump as it pushed the hay though To make a perfect square bale ( which is actually rectangular) The one on the wagon had to sway as the moving wagon Tipped and rocked. Carrying each bale one by one to The back of the wagon. Piling high as they could reach. Dad made straight tall piles. They reached to the sky. Us kids would help. But mostly riding high upon the load. When the load was as full as could be it was time to head home. We sat high on top. The load swayed back and Forth. Dad catching any that fell off. But turning into The long gravel driveway, pulling in by the barn, was The best feeling of a great harvest for the winter.
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