Hay Day

Since my main hay man won’t be delivering for a few more weeks, I took the day off from my paying job to go pick up a load of grass hay from Hay Jerry. I don’t know his last name, so I’ve always called him Hay Jerry. I called him last week. “Hey, Hay Jerry. Got any hay yet?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Great. I’ll be there Friday morning.” “You bringin’ help? I’m retired you know. The missus won’t let me load.” “Not a problem. I can handle it.”

The adventure began just as I turned out of my ranch. There he was...a great big snake in my path.


I got out of the truck to see if he was a rattlesnake or a bullsnake. Why are all snakes hes in my stories? Just a bullsnake, I discovered. Would I have run him over if he were a rattlesnake? Probably not, but the thought did cross my mind.

So I get to Hay Jerry’s place in Albuquerque’s south valley, a mere 70 miles and $21 worth of fuel from home, and he shows me the stack where I need to back up the trailer to. I suggested he go get a cup of coffee in town and by the time he got back, I’d have this rig in place. I’ve gotten much better at trailer-backing in the last couple of years, but the key to my success is backing it up in a straight line. Hay Jerry wanted me to back up and curve at the same time, to avoid landing in a big hole. I gave it a few pitiful attempts. Defeated and with my head hung low, I handed over the keys. Hay Jerry, of course, backed it up around the curve at 30 mph with his eyes closed...in one try.


Hay Jerry is maybe 70 years old. And he has a heart condition. And he’s not supposed to do anything but point to the right stack, collect money, and ride around on his John Deere telling his hired hands what to do. But his hired hands hadn’t shown up yet, and he’s an old-school cowboy who absolutely cannot watch a woman load hay and not help. So as he tried to help, I had to put my boot down and yell at him. I didn’t want a Hay Jerry heart attack on my conscience.

And so began the loading of 60 bales of fescue into the trailer. 60 bales times 50 pounds per bale equals 3,000 pounds...how’s that for a calorie-burning exercise?

Have I mentioned that it was 90 degrees while I was doing this? Hay Jerry would come back and check on me every few minutes, and I truly enjoyed talking to him during my many water breaks. When it came time to settle up, my new BFF Hay Jerry cut me a break on the price - $5.50 instead of $6 a bale, since I had to load it by myself.

The worst part of the day was yet to come. I had to go grocery shopping on the way home...at Wal-Mart. I would have rather loaded another 60 bales of hay.

The groceries, the hay, and I arrived home mid-afternoon, and now the real fun would begin...unloading and stacking the hay. Please notice the perfectly aligned, backed-up trailer at the hay barn. Ok, it took a few tries, but I did it.


99 bales of hay on the wall, 99 bales of hay, if one of those bales should happen to fall, 98 bales of hay on the wall. I cannot get that stupid song out of my head!


Break time.


Mission accomplished!


And for the second time today, 60 bales times 50 pounds per bale equals 3,000 pounds. Guess what I’m having for dinner...ice cream and ibuprofen!