Many times, over the past 20-some years, I’ve described some of the unique gifts that I’ve gotten my wife for birthdays, anniversaries and Christmases. To be completely honest, a lot of those gifts, such as sending her on a three-day, all-expenses-paid trip to artificial insemination school, a new squeeze chute, insulated coveralls, a set of bred heifers and even a smaller cab tractor, were as much for me as her. And, as you might have guessed, these were all things she didn’t exactly request.
A few weeks before our most recent anniversary, Judy shocked me by asking for a special present this year. She did not request jewelry, dinner at a nice restaurant or even an exotic vacation. Nosirree, my wife wanted (and I am not exaggerating one bit) a small square hay baler.
Since she retired about a year and a half ago, she has helped me around the farm, substituted at the local Head Start, and picked up a few hobbies. Desirous of a little extra spending money, Judy decided that she would refurbish an old alfalfa field that we had a few years ago and she also concluded that she could make a lot more money selling little squares than she could marketing the big rounds.
“That’s a lot of work,” I warned her.
“I know,” she answered rather tersely, “Will you get me the baler, or do I need to find one by myself?”
I found a decent, old baler not too far from home and it appeared to be worth the money. I bought it, hauled it home, and after spending a couple hundred dollars on parts, had it re-baling straw from the barn just fine. Since I had a small field that was ready to cut, I decided that would be a good trial run to work out the kinks on the old machine. It baled the entire field without missing a single tie. It looked as if I had made a good investment for my wife until it came time to haul in the crop. Evidently, high school kids don’t need money anymore, because I couldn’t find any takers on hauling in the few bales I had made.
The last time I bucked bales was more than 20 years and three back surgeries ago, but the crop had to be hauled in, so Judy and I hooked up to the flat-bed trailer and started. After what had been one of the mildest summers I can remember, the mercury soared into the high 90s that afternoon, and I quickly realized that, not only was I 20 years older, I also weighed about 40 pounds more.
As I panted, sweated and suffered in the heat, I asked my wife if this was really the way she wanted to increase her cash-flow?
“I think it’ll work out just fine,” she replied. “Besides, your life insurance policy is all paid up.”
“Oh…,” I thought, “that extra income.”
