Harvest in a Hurry

It's harvest season.

Time for a story about another harvest.

In another era . . .

How it was done under normal circumstances.
You can see the Bundle Rack in the background...

First, a bit of background . . .

Well into the 1940s, the Berg family ran a threshing machine fed by bundles (sheaves) of grain transported by bundle ‘racks’ pulled by a team of horses.

Bundle racks were trailers usually 14 to 16 feet long and 8 feet wide, with a 5-foot wood barrier front and back. The rack was mounted on a four-wheeled running gear with the two front wheels attached to the tongue—a long wooden pole where the horses were attached and which acted as a steering apparatus for the front wheels.

The driverless team pulling the rack was controlled by the man doing the loading of the sheaves and directed by the commands, “Get up” or “Whoa”. The reins were tied to a ‘V’ notched in the top board of the front of the rack and the horses were steered next to the stooks (sheaves of grain gathered and standing together) by the man as he walked alongside. With his pitchfork, he could reach out and put pressure on either rein, depending on where he wanted the team to go.

Normally, it was a calm, peaceful and surprisingly quiet operation. At least until they reached the threshing machine.

Now on to my story . . .

The brothers were threshing a field of wheat on the South Farm, just across the irrigation canal from the home place. All had gone well to this moment. Carlo, their hired man, had his rack partly filled and Don, with a full load was heading toward the thresher. Bern, the second eldest son, and his team, Maud and Dick were stopped across the field while Bern answered a call of nature.

Suddenly, a pheasant burst out of the undergrowth, startling Bern’s team.

You have to know that horses have one response to everything out of the ordinary. Run!

They took off like a shot.

Bern got his pants into running position and sprinted after them.

But before he could affect any form of control, they spooked Carlo’s team, who joined in the race.

Carlo managed to grab the front of his rack and began climbing up toward the reins.

That was the last view either of the brothers had of him.

The team had been heading for the canal, but made a sharp turn, dumping Carlo, the rack and the load into the canal.

Carlo was on the side of the rack that turned over and, fearing for his safety, Don left his team and ran to see if he was all right. But Carlo’s head appeared suddenly above the bank. He was still waving his hands and yelling, “Whoa! Whoa!”

Meanwhile, Carlo’s team, minus the rack but still pulling the empty running gear, circled back toward Don’s team. Who now joined the stampede.

Don ran back to where he had left them to find a large pile of sheaves, but no horses.

Or rack.

When they finally caught their respective teams, they surveyed the damage.

Then silently agreed it was time for lunch.