John S. Eustis

Making Hay


At first the wagons just had backs on them

to keep the loads from sliding off when pulled.
We laid the hay bales four or five across,
then stacked them up to seven tiers or more,
the lower tiers like stairways to the back.
A hired hand with a hook stood at the front
catching bales as they came off the feeder
and passing them behind him to be put
in the proper place by a second man.
Both jobs could be done by just one worker
if the tractor driver, pulling the load,
drove slowly enough–so two or three men.

Few people do it that way anymore.
Once the kicker-baler came in, wagons
had to have four walls, to catch the hay bales
flying in and landing in a hodge-podge,
baling twine often bursting from the force,
and making it a nightmare to unload
but saving labor–one man did it all.

Even that style has been outmoded now.
Since the old days when I worked on the farm,
they’ve transitioned to enormous round bales.
No wagon needed, just another kind
of baler, which makes the twine obsolete.
The outer crust of hay protects the core
so it can stay out in the field all year.
Some farmers use a long spike on the front
of the tractor to spear the giant bales
and set them in rows, covered by a tarp.
Then even the outer layer stays dry.
The cows never complain, in any case.

© John S. Eustis

John S. Eustis is a retired librarian living in Virginia with his wife, after a long, quiet federal career.  His poetry has appeared in Atlanta Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Pirene’s Fountain, Slipstream, Tar River Poetry, and elsewhere.

Back to Main Loch Raven Review Site