Mud Balls, Polecats and Prunes

Half awake and half asleep, I can feel myself sliding lower in the seat of the tractor. A loud ping sound on the tractor’s metal fenders brings me to a full awakening. Wilford has thrown a rock at me to wake me up. I am sitting in line waiting to fuel my tractor and Will is in front of me fueling his .We are heading to the Robertson place to cut and rake our last hayfield.

Will’s tractor has a side cutter on it and mine has the rake. He will cut the hay and I will follow and rake it into a windrow for the baler. After the hay dries a little, it will be baled and then we will come back and haul the baled hay on trucks back to the feedlot. Cutting and raking is the easy part. Hauling hay is the most miserable job on the ranch and I hate it with a passion.
As Will pulls out and heads up the lane, I start to fuel my tractor. The cutter needs a fifteen minute head start before I can start raking. I arrive at the field and Will still needs a bit more time to get far enough ahead. It gives me just enough time to stop under the plum trees that border the west edge of the field. I pick more plums than I can carry and stuff them under the seat. They will be a tasty snack while I rake this field. We are about half done and everything has run smoothly.

The afternoon sun has gotten hot and the cool moist plums taste good. I have eaten most of the plums I gathered, and I start thinking that the next time I pass the edge of the field I will gather some more. Wilford is about fifty feet to the right of me as we pass each other in the middle of the field on every revolution. As I reach the end of the field and make my pivot I can see that Will has stopped at the other end of the field next to the ditch. He most likely has hit something with the cutter and has to pull it out of the blades. I can see the diesel smoke from his tractor and can tell that he has started cutting again.

As we pass each other in the middle of the field and as I daydream of those cool moist plums , I catch the glimpse of an object coming toward me. It is a big, gooey , black mud ball. Wilford did not have a breakdown, he stopped at the ditch and made mud balls to hurl at me as I pass by. Now a barrage of mud balls are coming at me. They splatter against the tractor and I get sprayed with mud, but incur no direct hits. THIS IS WAR!!

I am soon out of range and when I get to that end of the field , I stop and load up on mud balls. As I make my pivot and head back up the field I can see that Will is reloading from the canal on the other end. We pass in the center of the field again. It is like two pirate ships passing in the Caribbean Sea. You only have about 60 seconds to unload your arsenal before you are out of range. For the next 30 minutes, each time we pass, a furious battle is fought in the hay fields of Wyoming.

Finally a truce is called and we meet at the ditch at the bottom of the field. We need to clean-up, we are covered in mud. After washing off we walk over to the plum trees and sit in the shade eating plums, laughing and arguing over the worst and best shots. It is time to finish this field and we head back to our tractors. Just before we get there we see a skunk run out of the hayfield and it is out in the open. Skunks are our most despised animal. They not only stink but they eat the pheasant and chicken eggs, so when we see one we are destined to kill it. Chasing a skunk is a delicate adventure. You can’t get too close yet you have to get close enough. The skunk runs down a hole at the edge of the field. We look around and can’t see any escape holes. We find a big log and drag it over the top of the hole and decide to come back later and set a steel trap at the opening.

It is time to finish this field and we get back on our tractors and the rest of the day seems quite boring. We are finally finished and are headed back to the house. I don’t feel well.. Plums make prunes and prunes are a natural laxative, but I didn’t know that then. Before we get back to the house I have to stop twice near a corn field and well, you know the rest. As we pull into the yard Buff asks if we finished and then sees the tractors. They are covered in mud and still have mud balls sticking to the sides. Buff just shakes his head and walks away.

After we finish the evening chores we decide to go set our trap for Mr. Skunk. We rummage through the shop and find an old steel trap and a short piece of chain. We plan on chaining the trap to the log and setting the trap at the entrance of the hole. The skunk will have to step in it to get out. We jump in Will’s pickup and head back up to the Robertson place. It is a warm summer evening and I have my shirt unbuttoned and am wearing it like a vest. We both step out of the pickup near the skunk hole. Will gets in the back to get the chain and trap and I approach the log over the hole. I bend over the log and move it off of the hole. The skunk has burrowed under the log and he and I are face to face inches apart. I try to jump back but it is too late. I feel the yellow slime of his spray hit my chest . I am holding my breath knowing that this is going to be bad. My lungs give up and at the first inhale I start throwing up. The smell is overwhelming and I run to the canal dry heaving and jump in. I throw my shirt off and rub mud from the banks all over my chest. It doesn’t seem to help. The smell is unbelievable.
Wilford seemed to find some humor in this event and can’t quit laughing. I can’t get the smell off. He decides to take me home but makes me ride in the back of the pickup. I get to the house and my mother won’t let me come inside. She gets me a change of clothes , a big bucket of hot water and soap. I go to the barn, wash-up and change clothes. She still won’t let me in the house. For the next three days I live in solitude. I am fed outdoors, sleep outdoors and have a multitude of remedies tried on me. One Aunt brings quarts of tomato juice, another brings bottles of vinegar, many people bring all kinds of soaps. Nothing works. It takes five days for the smell to finally dissipate. To this day when I smell a skunk , I think of that warm summer evening in Wyoming.