THRESHING AT THE ROCKIN' R

The thrashing machine, or, in modern spelling, threshing machine (or simply thresher), was a first invented by a Scottish engineer for use in farming. It was invented (c.1784) for the separation of grain from stalks and husks. For thousands of years, grain was separated by hand with flails, and was laborious and time consuming. A flail is two sticks joined together by a chain. One holds one stick in one's hand and swings it so the other stick beats the stalk thus removing the grain.

I was outside when I first heard the scream. I ran inside and up to my room which faced west. Off in the distance, a threshing machine was coming down the highway. The grind and scream was the sound of the metal wheels on the pavement. It was daddy on his John Deere tractor heading to the farm; in was 1956.

The oats was to be harvested by threshing. It would blow a grand straw stack for the ponies. Previously, the oats had been cut and bundled. Man power set the bundles, a few together, in an up right position to keep the moisture out.

The thresher was set up in the field where the oats had grown. The idea was to get enough people together to do the job. Along with the construction crew, most of which were farmers themselves, Grandpa Ranum was there. Men where stationed around the machine to keep the production running. One man moved the spout which blew the straw into an enormous pile, another kept the grain running into the high box on the pick ups, others put bundles into the machine, while tractors moved about the acreage to pick up bundles. One man on the tractor and others pitching bundles unto the wagon from the ground.

Once the wagon was full, it was brought to the central area to be unloaded directly into the threshing machine. When one pick up was full, it would go to town to the granary to be weighed and sold. This was the time of the year that everyone was bringing in grain, we had four pick ups for hauling. That meant the crew didn't have to wait for one to return to fill; the operation continued without interruption until dinner time when everything came to a halt and the crew was fed.

Mother cooked for days to accommodate the amount of food these men could eat. I have never seen anything like it since. A good hearty meal taken and the men were back on the job. Mother and I did dishes for what seemed like hours before getting ready for the next food run.

There would only be one big meal although they were given a morning lunch of coffee and pastries and an afternoon lunch of sandwiches, more pastry, and coffee. Water was always available and the lunches of morning and afternoon were eaten on the wing, so to speak. Mother and I would walk through the stubble of the cut oats to present the lunches, most of which were carried in white muslin dish towels.

On the second day, they were a man short. I got to drive the Massey Harris tractor pulling a wagon for the loading of bundles. It went very well until I turned to quickly and broken the tongue on the wagon. Harry Myrom, a true farmer and friend, made a new tongue out of wood he had found in the construction warehouse. I hopped back on the tractor and the process resumed.

The threshing at the Rockin' R lasted a few seasons. Daddy loved to walk in the mature grain and examine the oats. He liked to look at the fields of barley, oats, or flax in an awe struck sort of way. I had ridden on the fertilizer wagon and helped him put the nutrients into the machine that spread it. I was there for the planting.

Perhaps when I look across fields of grain, I see that beauty because I first saw it through daddy's eyes. Perhaps, as in this picture of rolling hills and color variations, Old Trunks can appreciate farmers understanding their land and what and when to plant and when to harvest.

Now, instead of using a flail, as many did in New Solum Township before threshing machines were available, men and women, and little boys climb into an air conditioned combine and do the job in considerably less time with a better ratio of grain kept. Yet, farmer families across America still see the beauty of the crop.

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