The Story of Haybaler: A Saga of Generations

chaos was all just exaggerated attention seeking behaviors, from a person with deep, but undiscovered, childhood wounds. He hoped it was okay for his own painful grieving to be cut short by an appreciation, rather an insight, of Crissy as she really was. The scales of unquestioning love had fallen from his shipwrecked eyes, and he could now see the true light of day. This sailor had tried to navigate his ship in the waters of love, but he had run aground and become stranded. Surely, the tides had changed, and by seeing reality his ship was loosened from its entrapment on an irrational shore. He was free again to sail in the waters of reason and insight. At that moment he heaved a great sigh of relief, and knew that he would survive the emotional catastrophe of infatuation, veiled as undying love.

  From this brief, but intense period of emotional chaos, Haybaler became more cautious with his feelings towards the fairer sex. Certainly, he retained the sexual curiosity of youth, and he was unerringly attracted to a beautiful woman, whenever and wherever he saw one. However, his approach to coquettish women had become not unlike one who has been burned by a hot stove. Caution is quick to intervene as soon as the heat of the stove is perceived, least one be burned so painfully again. It had been an agonizing retreat, but he was the wiser for it.

  A Passing

  As is common in the South, wearing bib overalls was the call of the day. No one could say how many decades had passed since Haybaler had been seen wearing anything other than this, his usual attire. Only the passing of seasons created an exception to his clothing monotony. Every country boy knows that bib overalls are suitable in any season. In winter, the addition of a denim jacket was all that is needed to break the ill effects of a cold wind. And in the stifling heat and humidity of summer, a tee shirt and other undergarments became optional attire. Bib overalls are exceptionally suited to work or play. They can be worn while using the tractor to pull stumps out of the farmer’s field. And as soon as not, they could also be worn into town when gathering supplies at the tack and feed store. Add to this the fact that bib overalls only need to be washed about once per week, and you will quickly understand the allure of this hill country fashion.

  Bib overalls are the picture of simplicity and ease. And to be sure, they are not the picture of refinement and affectation. Seeing Haybaler in bib overalls, one might make a hasty judgment about him being a country bumpkin, but this was not the case. He was prone to reflection on life and he endeavored to understand those around him. A thoughtful and well-read fellow, he was above all a lover of nature. Some would call him a loner, but he strove to break the habit of isolating from others. As the years passed he had become more comfortable with being in the company of hill country folk. One of his greatest accomplishments was to start from being an awkward teenager, who regularly avoided social interactions, to becoming an adult, who was perfectly comfortable and conversational with the people surrounding him. He had reached a point where it was easy to talk with others, and he looked forward to the joys of socializing.

  He continued to live on Acorn Ridge as an adult, which was somewhat expected due to the fact that he was the first born son and would inherit the farm when his father passed. For many years he made extra money by using his skills as a handyman and mechanic. Growing up on the farm meant learning how to change a tire on a tractor at a young age. In fact, he could repair or rebuild every mechanical aspect of a farm tractor without too much trouble. He had a knack for fixing things that were broken, and he took pride in the vast collection of tools and implements that were at his disposal. Having the right tools for the job goes hand in hand with living on a working farm. As time went by, he became known far and wide as the man to call if a tractor needed repair. This means of employment afforded him the gratification of restoring the broken machine, as well as the pleasure of interacting with various people far and wide.

  A tractor is one of the most reliable and necessary pieces of equipment that a farmer owns. The diesel engine will dutifully start, even on the coldest morning. Equipped with various attachments, it can do all measure of heavy work that would be impossible for any single man to accomplish. A small army of workers and many days of toil and suffering, would not accomplish the work that a tractor can do in a day and a half. Every farmer loves the deep rumbling sound of an idling tractor, as well as the steady hum of the engine when it accelerates to working speed. The predictability of a working tractor gives comfort to farmers far and wide, as if all were well in the world, until the tractor unexpectedly breaks down. Then, to the farmer it seems that the entire world has come to a grinding halt. In his mind if the tractor has broken, then everything is broken. He is panic stricken until the tractor is fixed and working again. So, there is one caveat to owning a farm tractor, a problem which every farmer dreads until the time of its arrival. He secretly knows that this bastion of reliability will break down at the worst possible time, and at the most inaccessible location. Many stories are told of tractors breaking down when spring seeds need to be planted or fall crops need to harvested. So for Haybaler, being able to make a repair call, on short notice and at the location of the mechanical catastrophe, was as valuable a skill as any. And, in this way Haybaler was able to supplement the lifestyle he and his family enjoyed on Acorn Ridge.

  His family was never completely self-sufficient by living solely off the land. The property was a rocky plot of Earth and did not lend itself well to grazing cattle or growing wheat, but there were other ways to make use of the fertility of the soil. They had an expansive vegetable garden and rows of fruit trees, from which an abundance of food was obtained. Hunting White Tailed Deer, Wild Turkey and other game provided a suitable supply of meat for the table. Of course, Bill Stiles continued to make moonshine whiskey, operating the old still from time to time. However, with the passing of years, there was less calling for moonshine. Nowadays, men mostly drank cheap bourbon or vodka, which was easily accessible from the corner liquor store. So, revenue from the still had steadily declined. This was not at all an unfortunate development, in Haybaler’s opinion. As the calling for moonshine had declined, simultaneously the consumption of alcohol by his relatives had decreased. He hated to see them drink themselves into ruin, and he was quite pleased when they were drinking less.

  Haybaler had experienced much during his years of living on Acorn Ridge. He had witnessed the town’s folk acting out the various dramas, which they called their lives. He was taken aback by noticing the differences in those that had pronounced problems with drinking, compared to those that were mostly free from the sinister effects of long term alcohol abuse. What a difference sobriety can make in a person’s life. He observed it all with great interest. From his reading of books, he had garnished many pearls of wisdom and a reflective attitude towards the vagaries of this fleeting life, which passes quickly by, like so many pages falling from a calendar. When the painful awareness of the vexing human predicament became too much of a burden, he would always retreat into the woods and his deepening understanding of the world of nature.

  Being a great student of nature he had studied the life history of most of the local flora and fauna surrounding him. He was particularly fascinated by the life cycle of cicadas. He had learned that it was only the males that sang out their boastful song during the hottest summer months. Haybaler considered it a very good day when he was fortunate enough to observe a nymph that had just crawled out from its primal sleep in the good Earth, to ascend a rugged tree trunk. Half way up the tree, the larval creature would anchor itself firmly, and then a break would occur along the midline of its humped back. Very slowly, a mature cicada would emerge from the larval shell to dry its nascent wings and body in the morning air. Left behind, the tan colored exoskeleton would remain affixed to the tree trunk, while the adult form of the cicada began its period of life on Earth, intent on the necessities of feeding, breeding and avoiding predators. Thus, Haybaler imagined the urgency of instincts that drove the male’s impassioned cries throughout the long, hot days of summer.

  Being a thoughtful f
ellow, he would lean against the trunk of the old apple tree that dignified the front yard of his country home to ponder the nature of life. On a beautiful autumn day, his reveries would be interrupted by the migration of Monarch Butterflies as they journeyed southward. They fluttered so beautifully above him on their sojourn to the Southern Hemisphere. He would consider the various forms assumed by a butterfly and be filled with awe. This marvelous creature changes physical form; from egg, to caterpillar, to chrysalis, and finally to adult butterfly, and the cycle continues endlessly for generations of time. Haybaler would be caught in a muse about the metamorphosis of Monarch Butterflies, and wonder if people go through a more subtle metamorphosis during their lifetimes. As a person, could becoming an adult and attaining wisdom be understood as a metamorphosis of sorts? For Haybaler, some questions remained unanswered.

  It was getting into late autumn when an unexpected freeze severely damaged the vegetation of the garden. Haybaler was surprised at how the morning hoarfrost had wrecked such a