By Rick Houser-
I know I talk a lot about how we raised a lot of tobacco and I like to talk about baling hay along with harvesting corn. Of course, the tobacco crop was our cash crop and I became the guy to bale your hay. But there was one event on our farm that topped all of this, at least for me. This happened after the wheat crop was ready to harvest and from its arrival to its departure, my eyes were riveted on the combine.
I was in total fascination of that piece of equipment and in awe of its size. When the combine was coming to our farm they were run by tractors of good size. There were men who did custom combining but you had to get on their list early or your wheat didn’t get harvested until late and that of course was not a good place to be in the order. So my Dad would line up one of these men and as the wheat became more of a golden color Dad would go to the field, shell out a head, and bite down on a grain or two. By doing this, he could tell if the moisture was low enough to call for the combine.
When a day and time were set for the combine’s arrival, it seemed that all other events on our farm were put on hold and Dad, my brother Ben and I, along with Webb, our hired hand, would be at the field’s gate to serve as the welcome committee. The thing was one could see it coming off in a distance as the big tractor and the huge combine pretty much took up Fruit Ridge Road from side to side, good thing there was little traffic in those days. Still as the combine approached, it seemed to grow in its size. The cutting part where the reel, which resembled a paddle wheel on a riverboat, was the farthest part from the tractor and the tractor was on the edge of the ditch. I ask you just how could this not have all of your attention? The description of the combine was massive.
Once it had arrived, the first obstacle was getting all of this to fit through the gate. It seemed that over the years, the combines became larger and the gate would be too small. It seems that most times the gate was removed along with the gate post and some of the fence. (Later Dad would install a wider gate but of course, the combine just got bigger.) Once in the field, the operator would swing the reel over further away from the tractor so it could get to the wheat and not be in the tractor’s way. By sliding it over a foot or so only made the huge piece of equipment into a mammoth piece of equipment and the largest item that would roll over the farm in the entire year.
I think I have said it often but our farm was gently rolling in its terrain allowing a field to rise from entering a field to reaching up to a ridge and then maybe sloping back down again, I say this because if you have ever seen a field of wheat when it is ripened to a golden yellow color with a light breeze blowing, the field takes on a movement where the wheat moves back and forth like the waves on an ocean. That to me was something to enjoy watching. For long periods, I would be mesmerized. It was one of nature’s wonders I guess. This might go on an entire day and after watching for awhile, walking away, and then later returning you still saw the unique image.
After sliding over the reel the man on the tractor would start up the combine and with all the parts on the cutting table became very noisy and the cylinder that takes the wheat from the stalks roared even louder, then add the straw shakers that also separate the grain and delivers the straw minus the grain out the back, and the noise grew even almost deafening. However, once it began to move across the field it seemed that the sound just became familiar. As the man was combining our wheat, I would sit on the back of the truck, as he would have to empty his bin when it became full and we would bag it. The time of waiting for a bin of wheat was never boring. Most times, there was either my Dad or Ben and we got to talk. I can’t really recall the topics but I really enjoyed getting to talk with them one to one and all of the time there was the sound of the combine in the background.
If you take the rolling terrain, place the behemoth combine and tractor on that terrain, and just watch how it seemed to flow over the field, it was almost magical. As the reel would turn and drag the wheat into the cutting head and send the wheat on a journey that ended with the straw dropping out the back and onto the ground, it was all just as planned. All of the steps to harvest done in one machine and what must be hard to coordinate looked so simple as it floated over the land. It was a sight I don’t think I ever tired of.
Of course, since those days combines not only have become self-propelled but bigger than most people’s homes. These days a combine can cover an amount of acres that I can’t even fathom but can work so much more efficiently. Yesm the time and sizes have changed. Progress has moved on. Gates are no longer a problem as there can’t be one to a field so progress can’t be held back. However, when you drive by a field this year and see one of those monsters crossing, the illusion that it is floating along and harvesting quietly still remains. I guess maybe the biggest difference is the guy driving is in a cab and not having to take in all of the dust. That was the unpleasant part- that cloud of dust that rose up off the combine. So keep your eye on the reel and just watch it float.
Rick Houser grew up on a farm near Moscow in Clermont County and loves to share stories from his youth and other topics. If you would like to read more of his writing, he has two books for sale. You can reach him at houser734@yahoo.com. Write to him at P.O. Box 213 Bethel, Ohio 45106.