Good Old Days Magazine

BITS & PIECES

Hard Head, Soft Dirt

I was 5 years old in 1937 and “ helping” my dad cut fodder in the field for our hogs and cattle. It was a warm day in August. Dad was cutting the cornstalks with a corn knife by hand, and then throwing them onto the hayrack. The hayrack was pulled by a team of Belgian horses that responded to verbal commands so they didn’t have to be driven by a person.

While my dad was cutting stalks, I was “helping” by throwing rocks at the metal wheels, but I got a little too close. Without warning, the

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