Whiskey for My Men, Beer for My Horses, NOT, Hay for the horses #fff

Since Drinking and driving is a no no, beer for the horses would not go over to good with the police, not that I have ever seen a patrol car motor on down the dirt road we live on. This song by Toby Keith and Willie Nelson, Whisky for My Men and Beer for My Horses, reminds me of a story I heard some 20 years ago, and it is still told today.
A local redneck, whose family has lived in this area for generations was drinking at the local watering hole. His mode of transportation was not a car, but a horse. Not only was he drinking, but as the story goes, he was also feeding beers to his horse.
As luck would have it, on his way home from the evening activities, he was pulled over by a NY State Trooper.
The reason the trooper pulled him over was in fact, his horse was not doing real well maneuvering on down the road. The horse was not crossing the yellow line or anything. No yellow lines on these roads. The horse was just staggering a little, as the local was slumped over in the saddle.
It may be hard to believe, but the local was given a citation for DWI.
This is why you should never give your horse to many beers, maybe just a few.
A bale of hay would be more appropriate. It is always better to have some food in your stomach before going out for a night of hooting and howling, even for a horse.

Well, this is not your typical meal entered for a #FFF post, but while watching the video on the one year anniversary of #fff, conjured up by @jlsplatts, @weirdheadaches, and @dandays, I concluded that most anything involving food would fit the bill. With that being the case, food for horses meets the requirements.

Not only does it fit the bill, the one thing I am most proud of is the fact that my should remain the same size while attached to my face.

Hay for the horses takes days to prepare, and the preparation for this meal involves many steps.
The best part of preparing this meal is that there are no dishes.
Here are just a couple of pics of the picturesque fields of hay we baled.

The hay fields account for app. 15 acres of this farm.

The very first step in the process is to cut all of the hay.
The apparatus that cuts the hay is called a haybine, pictured here.

After all of the hay is cut, it is tethered with this apparatus which is attached to a tractor.
The process of tethering simply means to rake the hay to fluff it up. This is done in order to allow the sun to dry the hay.
The hay must be totally dry before it can be baled.
Baling wet hay and storing it in the barn can cause the hay to actually self implode causing a fire.
Farmers need several consecutive dry days to be able to dry the hay completely before bailing.
The hay will usually be tethered several times before it is completely dry.

Here is a picture of the tether.

John Deer tractors are made in the states, Wisconsin and Alabama. They are a favorite of many of the farmers in this region.

The young lady standing on the tractor is #farm-mom's cousin. With Uncle Lou no longer gracing this earth with his presence, most of the responsibility of the farm has fallen on her shoulders. Her husband also passed away several years ago. Boy, is she one tough lady.
Here she is teaching her son how to operate the tractor.

For the first time using the apparatus that puts the hay in rows, he is doing a fine job.

With all of the hay that will be baled today, put into rows, we are now attaching the baler to the tractor.
The baling twine is threaded through a maze of gears, and at this point we are having some difficulty.
A little guidance from Uncle Lou sure would come in handy now. I'm sure he is looking down at us chuckling and saying, " I told you guys to pay a little more attention to this step."

After about an hour of frustration we were all BuckedUp. Realizing that we were making very little progress, Uncle Lou must have sent in the cavalry. The gentleman seen in this picture is a farmer from up the road. As with most of the people up here, he was more than happy to lend a hand, praise the Lord.

Within an hour we were up and running. Timmy was also willing to stick around, and he ran the baler for us. The baler is a New Holland. I asked Timmy how old it was, and he thought that it was from the late sixties. It was a good thing he stuck around, because the baling twine broke several times before we started to make any progress.

Now we're moving, that's a good thing, as we have between 450 and 500 bales to get into the barn before nightfall.

With my best friend, who lives across the road, on the wagon with me, we are making real progress.

The fields of hay are a far cry from the fields at Yankee Stadium,

and you better be on your toes, as the tractor rolls through the gopher holes, dips, and uneven ground.

Thumbs up baby, the baler is spitting out bales at a great pace.

With the last of the four wagons bringing in the remainder of the bales, let the games begin. It is time to toss the bales.
The counter on the baler reads 475. Before we start baling, everyone takes a guess at how many bales will be collected.
My guess was 435, I lose. Pete came in at 462 and is this round's winner. No prizes given, just a little boasting.

All in all around 1700 bales of hay are stored in the barn and this is the first go-round. Lets do a little math. Each bale weighs around 45 pounds times 462 = 20,790 pounds.
As the stack of hay gets higher the toss requires a little more effort.
Being that two people are needed for stacking, which I hate doing, I always do the tossing.

With the first round in the barn, two rounds to go. By the time all the hay is in the barn it will reach the top, just under the window where you can see the catwalk.

20,790 pounds later it is time for a couple of cold ones.

It may seem a little strange, but this particular picture is of the knife used by Uncle Lou to cut the bailing twine, maneuver the twine through the many gears, an all purpose knife. It was kept right in a storage compartment on the baler.
For the past 30 years he used it exclusively for this purpose and nothing else.
I am sure you have heard of people that have a foot fetish, I guess you can say I have a hand fetish, not in a weird way.
For some unknowing reason I can remember exactly what certain blue collar people's hands look like.
The hands of these men would include my father, Uncle Dick whom those of you reading this have no clue who he is, and of course Uncle Lou.
I can literally see his leathered hand wrapped around this knife, and that one visual brings back so many fond memories.

There is nothing like going to bed after an exhausting day of good old hard work.