Corn-Farm Boy (5 page)

“You come and cover up the planter,” Dad shouted to Dick. “I've got to go back to the field and get that fertilizer off the truck. It'll get spoiled if it gets wet.”

Dick pulled the canvas over the planter. He saw the tractor cushion on the tractor seat. Dad rode on a cushion to ease the jolts. He started to put it under the tractor, but decided it was too hot. He tucked it under the canvas.

A big clap of thunder hit and down came the rain. Dick and Wilma ran for the house. They stood on the back porch and watched. They saw Dad come back down the lane in the Hudson. Raymond came in from the west forty with the old tractor and the drag. It began to hail a little.

“I'll take a raincoat out to Mom,” said Wilma.

CHAPTER III

Around in Circles

“Can I help today?” Dick asked.

“Do the chores first,” said Dad, “and then come out in the field.”

It was Saturday and Dick was glad there was no school. He dashed out to the barnyard. The cattle were mooing in the feed lot and he heard the pigs squealing. He hurried as fast as he could.

He brought a pail of water and the hogs rushed in and bumped him around. The biggest one whom he had named Mrs. Hog bumped against him and knocked him over. He jumped up quickly, only to see that the others had tipped the water over. Dick felt like kicking them, but he held his temper for he saw Mrs. Hog looking at him. She looked so innocent, he had to laugh out loud. Maybe Mrs. Hog did it on purpose. Under the sow's big ears, he thought he saw mischief.

“I don't mind a pig playing jokes on me,” Dick said aloud, “but don't let it go too far, Mrs. Hog!”

Beside the hog lot stood the corncrib, a large building with double open doors at each end and an alleyway through the center. Dick went to a small door at one side, took a shovel and scooped corn out into a metal bushel basket. He lifted it to his shoulder, carried it to the lot and dumped the corn out on top of the hogs. Mrs. Hog got the most of it.

“There! That'll fix
you!
” Dick cried, laughing.

The hogs bounced and bumped over each other in their eagerness to get to the food.

Chores done, Dick started for the big eighty. The biggest cornfield had eighty acres in it. Dick ran out the lane with Buster galumphing along at his heels. After the cold damp days of March and April, May seemed like spring. The phoebes were singing. Dick saw two squirrels fighting over an ear of corn. He saws crows flying overhead. The oats field was already green. The corn was coming up. Beautiful fresh green V-shaped plants marked neat even rows in the rich black soil. They made a circling pattern over the rolling hill. Dick picked up a clod of dirt and broke it in his hand. He liked the feel of it. How glad he was not to be cooped up in the house any more.

He hurried over to the field. Dad was there and so was Uncle Henry. Saturday was a holiday at the factory in town, so Uncle Henry had come out for the day. Raymond had taken the old tractor over to the west forty. Dad had the new tractor and was cultivating the corn for the first time. Dad slowed up.

“Dad,” yelled Dick, “can I drive for a while?”

Dad could not hear. He stopped and Dick yelled again, “Can I drive?”

“Let the boy drive,” said Uncle Henry. “He can't learn any younger.”

Dad seemed willing. At least he made no objections. Uncle Henry patted Dick on the back.

“Of course you can drive the tractor, Dick,” he said. “You'll be a big strong farmer one of these days. Cultivating is easy. Want me to show you how?”

“Yes,” said Dick. “I sure do.”

Uncle Henry took Dad's place and Dick jumped on beside him. Dick rode standing and they started off. Dad stood by and watched. They went around the bend and lost sight of Dad.

“Keep your eyes on the rows ahead, and follow their curve,” said Uncle Henry. “When the rows get short, you keep turning …”

They were at the end of the field now, on a fairly steep slope. Uncle Henry began to turn. He backed and went ahead several times. Dick looked behind.

“Uncle Henry!” he shouted. “Don't go
around in circles
. You're turning
on the corn!
”

Uncle Henry scowled and started off in a new direction.

Dick looked behind and called out again: “Uncle Henry, where are you going? You're taking a whole row of corn out.”

Uncle Henry looked back. He stopped the tractor.

“Now, where am I?” he asked. He looked worried. “Gosh! I'm lost. I don't know which way to go. Where's your Dad?”

“Up that way.” Dick pointed.

“We'll head back up there then.”

Uncle Henry cut across several rows and after a while came back to the place where Mark Hoffman was waiting.

“Uncle Henry got lost, Dad!” called Dick.

Uncle Henry made it all sound like a big joke. He did not tell how much corn he had plowed out.

“How did you like it?” asked Dad.

“I admit it's easier to go up and down in straight rows, Mark,” said Uncle Henry. “But still, contouring helps the crop. Water can't wash the land away so easy. But—I'm a city man myself. I'll leave all this hard work to you farmers.” He grinned at Dick. “It's your turn now, boy.”

Dick looked at Dad, who nodded. Dick was surprised. Had Dad forgotten that first tractor tumble, or was he just giving in to Uncle Henry? Dick mounted the tractor seat and Dad gave him some instructions.

“O. K. Dick,” Dad said. “Watch out for the curves.”

Dick started off with Dad and Uncle Henry watching. Then they went off to another part of the field. The small triangular shovels on the cultivator turned the soft black earth, destroying weeds and leaving only the young corn plants, whose leaves, like green ribbons, waved in the wind.

Dick liked to be out in the field alone. He wished the tractor would not make so much noise, so he could hear the birds better. Dick felt happier than he had been for a long time. He began to sing and yodel and to make up songs of his own. He tried to out-shout the tractor. He saw that blackbirds and crows were following the cultivator to pick up worms. Big old Buster followed for a while, then dashed off to chase a rabbit in the oats field.

Dick began to wish the rows were straight. It was hard to steer on the winding curves. The contour idea was all Uncle Henry's. But Dad was right—it was much harder and took longer. You had to watch out every minute. On straight rows, you just went straight back and forth. You did not have to turn first one way, then another; on the outside of a curve, then on the inside.

The wind began to blow. The dirt dried fast and dust blew up in the boy's face. That made it hard for Dick to see the road ahead. He kept brushing dirt off with his sleeve. But he kept steadily on. He had to prove to the men that that first tumble meant nothing and that he could really manage a tractor. He took the turns without trouble.

After several hours had passed, Dick began to feel tired. His legs got numb from sitting still so long. The air was chilly, not half so warm as when he started. He turned at the edge of the field and stopped the tractor. He stood up and stretched.

He looked across the rolling fields. There were four farms in this square mile, the Heiters, the Hasses, the Rudens and the Hoffmans. Dick could see a dark grove outlined against the sky. That was the Ruden place, half a mile away. Down the road, far in the distance, he saw the Ruden tractor moving. Were they cultivating, too? He wondered if Elmer was helping his father.

Buster came running back from the oats field. The dog had not caught his rabbit, after all. Dick jumped down, patted the dog and talked to him. But he knew he had better get going again. He did not want Uncle Henry or Dad to find him resting. He started the tractor and went chugging on.

Dick's legs began to hurt. Was it that old rheumatism coming back? He hoped not. He tried to keep his eyes straight ahead. The rows of corn disappeared under the tractor, one plant after another. It made him dizzy to watch them. Cultivating was not so much fun after all. You just kept on doing the same thing all day long. That was what made it tiresome.

A flock of birds flew overhead. What kind were they? Wild ducks migrating to Canada, now that spring had come?

Dick turned around to watch them pass over. The cultivator got away and plowed out a few hills of corn. He pulled the steering wheel quickly and got back on the curve again. He hoped Dad would not notice the missing hills. He shook his head to keep from getting dizzy. He began to feel sleepy. Was it fumes from the exhaust pipe?

“Gosh!” said Dick aloud. “I can't even yawn or I'll be off the contour line!”

He looked around again. He could not see the rows of green corn behind him. Was it because he was dizzy and sleepy? He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. He looked again—but there was no corn. He stopped the tractor and went back. To his astonishment, he saw that he had plowed out about six rods of corn. What was the matter, anyhow? He was keeping in the rows in front, but plowing out the rows at the back. Dick shook his head. He could not figure it out.

“I'll go get Dad,” he said. “Maybe he'll want to take over.”

Leaving the tractor in the field, Dick called Buster and they walked home. Dad came back with him and so did Uncle Henry. They soon saw what was wrong. Dad did not scold at all.

“It's an easy mistake to make,” said Dad. “You are on the wrong two rows. When the planter plants four rows at a time, it leaves a wider space before it plants the next four rows. You have come back on this wider space. That's why you've plowed out the corn. You go on back home,” said Dad. “I'll take over now.”

Two men climbed the fence and came into the field. Dick waited to see who they were. They had stopped their truck at the side of the road. One man was Charlie Ruden, Elmer's father. The other was Grandpa Shute, whose farm was on the next road south.

“In trouble?” asked Ruden.

“Oh no,” said Mark Hoffman. “You men know my brother-in-law, Henry Shumaker, don't you?”

The men nodded.

“We saw you stalled here,” Ruden went on. “We thought maybe you didn't know if you were coming or going.”

Dick watched his Dad. He saw his lips tighten, but he did not say a word.

“It sure looks funny from the road,” said Grandpa Shute, “to see a man cultivating on contour. I wonder what crazy ideas they'll be thinking up next.”

“Looks like a man might be drunk or something—going around in circles,” Ruden went on. “First he's going one way, then he finds himself way over on the other side of the field. Don't you get lost sometimes?”

Dick knew this kind of talk would make Uncle Henry mad. He saw Dad and Uncle Henry look at each other. But they made no reply.

“When I was young,” said Grandpa Shute, “I learned at school that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line. But now, they seem to figger that the farther you go round, the sooner you'll get there.”

“How do you like this contour business?” asked Ruden.

“Fine,” said Uncle Henry. “If we hadn't terraced this year all our corn would be down in the creek now. That was a two-and-a-half-inch rain soon after we planted.” As the men turned to go, he added, “Well—got anything else to say?”

Charlie Ruden spoke for both. “We just don't like that way of farming.” The men walked to the road and rode off in their truck.

Dick did not realize how angry Dad was until he spoke. He turned to Uncle Henry and exploded.

“You're making me the laughing stock of the whole neighborhood, Henry Shumaker!” he shouted. “You heard what they think of me—it looks like I'm drunk! They'll all razz me to death for my funny farming.”

“Let them think it's funny,” said Uncle Henry, in a joking tone. “Let them laugh …”

“That's easy for you to say,” said Dad. “It's
me
they're laughing at, not
you
. I don't know why I ever listened to you. A tenant ought to have
some
rights. You get your half of the corn, your two-fifths of the oats and cash rent for the pasture, even when I don't make a penny!”