Harvest Time

August was harvest time, the main cereal crop being oats which was fed back to the cattle as winter feed. From the inner depths of the tractor shed was dragged the old Albion Binder amidst the resulting shower of straw, a years worth of pigeon droppings and an odd assortment of every conceivable sort of junk that had been tossed on top of it throughout its hibernation. After being towed to the field it suddenly expanded like an unfolding emerging butterfly to twice its size. To the inexperienced eye it appeared as an eccentric assortment of chains, wheels, levers, wooden sails, canvas sheets, adjusting wheels and levers. To the admirer it was mechanical perfection as it made its noisy way around the field, the golden stalks shaking with fear as they were detached from their roots before being gently stroked backwards by the sails to fall like dead soldiers onto the revolving canvas. A magical process, the straw disappeared into one side, only to reappear at the top of the other side. When the clanking machinery was satisfied that a suitable armful had been gathered, the noisy clang of the twine threaded needles signified the spitting out of a perfectly tied sheaf ready to be reunited with seven others to proudly stand together in a neat stook. The excitement mounted as the square of uncut corn got smaller and smaller. The tractor stopped, the guns came out and so did the rabbits. Everyone had a goodly dollop of stew and dumplings for the next couple of weeks!

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