“Hey” is rarely heard around here. Except if you meet someone from Oklahoma. On a side note, when we first moved here, people thought we were from Oklahoma.
Most everyone here says “Hi” or “hello”.
But hay….there’s a lot of that.
We have so much hay, that there is a hay broker for our farm. He deals with hay, a hay crew, trading hay and straw. He drives and flies all over the Midwest making deals and lining up the shipping of the hay.
Most of our hay is alfalfa. They get about 4- 5 cuts a season off of one circle. We also have straw after the wheat has been cut.
The big square bales are beautiful sights along the horizon.
(straw bales)
This is a bale stacker or “stinger”. The front forks scoops up the bale, flips it over the top of the cab and the bale slides down the slope.
When the stinger is full, the hydraulics push the back of the stinger up (like a dump truck) and a stack is formed on the ground.
The bales of alfalfa weigh about 1,500 pounds.
They ship about 35,000 to 40,000 pounds at a time.
They weigh on a scale before leaving, and then weigh on a different scale when they get to their destination.
Seems like an easy, safe job. Until something happens that you’ll never forget.
Last year, August 22nd, one of our drivers died when two alfalfa bales fell off the truck and crushed him.
He had made a delivery, like any of the other deliveries that he had done in the past two years.
The owner of the feedlot was unloading the hay, as the driver was unfastening the straps. One bale shifted and started falling, and our driver couldn’t get out of the way fast enough.
He didn’t have any outward injuries save for a little scratch on his forehead.
When I think back to him, I instantly smile and think about how sweet he was. He was originally from Bristol, Tennessee. He had a great southern/east Tennessee accent. When he would start talking I was instantly reminded of Grandpa Jones from HeeHaw. He sounded just like Grandpa.
He was a very nice man and was always quick to say “hey” and ask about little Ruby. He was also a good friend’s brother in law. We shared two Easter dinners with him. I loved hearing about his former jobs and his stories of going to help a friend in Florida during orange picking season.
A year later, and we still miss his smiling face, his dry humor, his East Tennessee accent and his “Hey Y’all”.
