In the 50-60's, being raised on what might be referred to as a mini-farm in small town Newfoundland, gave opportunity to be exposed to many aspects of farm life, even though we might say on a small scale. The town of Laurenceton is nestled in a scenic cove in Notre Dame Bay, exposed to the NE Winds blowing in the Bay of Exploits. Our farm included a horse, several sheep, some hens and sometimes ducks, and for a short time during my childhood, a pig. We also grew all our own vegetables. So there was always lots to do. Of course having a horse and some sheep meant hay had to be harvested (made) to feed them through the long Winter months. It was an annual event for us, 'Making the Hay'. We knew it was a necessary chore that had to be done but it always seemed to be on the nicest days of the summer when we wanted to do other things, like swimming. Yes, there was a fun aspect to it but it was also very hard work, and for the most part, we hated it. We had three separate gardens around our property, and when the snow of winter melted away, the green grass began to grow. To assist in having good growth every year we would fertilize it with horse dung from behind the barn. Every day during the winter we would shovel the horse droppings through a little square hole (hatch) in the side of the barn that was cut at the end of the horse stall. By the end of winter this was a fairly large pile of digested hay (and oats) from the previous year's harvest. To spread this manure we used a Bob Sled, a crude sled with wooden runners with a box mounted on top. The box was loaded by using a shovel and/or a pitch fork. As the horse pulled the sled, the manure was manually spread all over the pasture land. The grass grew rapidly and by mid July it was time for harvest, time to 'Make the Hay'. The hay was mowed (cut) with a scythe. This was another crude tool with a long blade attached to a long handle. It was important to have a sharp blade at all times, so very often we would have to stop and sharpen it with a stone. One had to be very careful and not to get too close to the blade for fear of injury. The stone was a bit fragile and one had to be careful when laying it down and not lay too hard on a rock and break it. This would result in sharpening with a much shorter stone. To me it was very scary! But fortunately I never did cut myself doing it. The hay was mowed with long swipes (swings) of the scythe. After some practice we would develop a rhythm and we would move fairly quickly across the pasture. Of course the longer the swipes the faster the job got done. I personally developed some muscles in my teen years and could mow a lot of hay in a short time. I found this to be the more enjoyable part of 'Making the Hay'. Now the hay is lying on the ground in long rows and next is the drying process. For the most part the Newfoundland climate didn't lend favourably to this. With a pitch fork the hay is shaken and spread over the ground to dry. Every evening the hay had to be raked into stacks (piles). The hay rake was an interesting tool. It was made of wood. The rake was little wooded dowels (pegs) that slid easily over the ground. It was very effective. The hay stack was covered with a tarp to keep it dry over night. The next day, weather permitting, the hay was spread all over the ground again. And around mid day it was turned over. It seemed to never fail at mid to late afternoon the wind would turn to the NE and dark clouds would appear on the horizon signaling rain was on the way. The call went out and the mad panic began to rake up the hay before it got wet. It usually meant having to leave our time of swimming and having fun. Finally the day arrived when the hay was dry enough, and then had to be transported to the barn loft for storage. One method was putting the hay on old cotton sheets, tying the four corners and carrying on our backs to the barn. Being strong I knew I could carry more. So instead I would use heavy rope laid down in two rows a couple of feet apart, pile on a lot of hay and tie the rope around it. Then I would maneuver my way underneath, balance it on my back, and carry it to the barn. Of course larger loads meant less trips and that was my goal! Years after I moved away from home I would go back for vacation times and would usually take some time to go visit our previous next door neighbour, Mrs. Chinn. She was now well up in years and was in a senior's home. Without fail, every time I went to visit her she would say in her drawn-out voice, "Calvin, I can still remember seeing you coming up across the garden with the big pile of hay on your back." I would smile at the reminder! The hay then had to be packed tightly in the barn loft and by the end of the season it would be full. As children our job was to jump the hay down! It would be very dusty, almost unbearable to breath, and very hot. Even though it was fun, it was very unpleasant. Finally, 'Making the Hay' was finished for another year. And it never ceased to amaze me that we always had plenty to feed the horse and sheep until spring arrived again.     Submitted By: Calvin Perry