GLORIFIED GOPHER

 

Everyone that has grown up on a farm knows what a gopher is. Yes, it is the little varmint that makes holes all over the yard, but there is also another kind…the kind that goes for this and goes for that. This job is usually reserved for the females or the youngest and, if you happen to be both, you are definitely nominated.

My sister and I knew this all too well growing up, especially during haying season. Dad had a persnickety New Holland baler that liked to act up every season, right in the thick of haying and putting up straw. Of course, it always chose the furthest point from the barn to pull its tricks.

Back then, there were no 4-wheelers, Rangers or other ATV’s that made running from the field to the barn easy. So, instead, while my Dad and brother would try their best to find the current problem, my sister and I were doomed to stand by just in case they needed a tool from the barn…aka, their gopher. If they did, it was no leisurely walk because time was money, it meant putting on our running shoes.

The worst part was waiting. We would stand and wait and maybe once every half hour we could hand them a 9/16 wrench, a pair of pliers or some other tool. The rest of the time it was just stand and wait…and wait…and wait. Do you know how slowly time goes when you are waiting? Such is the life of a gopher.

A gopher also learns fairly quickly not to question, but rather just to do. Once Dad asked for a hammer and I quite proudly answered that he had a hammer. He scooted out from under the baler, glared at me and in no uncertain terms said, “A bigger hammer!” You know, a hammer is a universal tool, it can fix anything…one way or another.

The worst part for us is that, was that after they worked on that temperamental piece of equipment for a couple hours, it usually turned out that it needed a part that was not on hand. So, Mr. Swartz, a guy who lived just north of us and worked on haying equipment would be called. Of course, that meant more waiting. Even then, a gopher is expected to be at hand, just in case there was some tool or part, like a small lock washer that he didn’t happen to have.

I pick on our old baler but, in reality, all of our equipment seemed to take its turn at needing repairs. If we gophers were really lucky, we got to go for parts when they were needed. Dad also worked off the farm so his time was valuable, so my sister and I usually got to go…not that it was a leisurely trip.

We were to go straight to the dealership, get the part and hurry back. Mind you, this was before GPS so I was designated driver since I had my license and my sister was navigator. Dad would always send the old part with us and it was impressed upon us to make sure that the new one was not just like the old one, but EXACTLY like the old one.

The trouble is that the stigma of gopher never seems to go away. Even after we were all on own, we would go back sometimes to help on the family farm. The same roles were still there. One particular year it had been an especially long summer, extra hot, and by the time we had gotten through second cutting of hay and were finishing up oat straw, we were all a little on edge.

We were tired, we were itchy and we were grouchy. My brother was fixing the hay trolley in the mow and I was the gopher this time. He was making the demands and it wasn’t quite like taking orders from Dad. I had had enough and threw a bale of straw at him, he threw one back, then my sister threw one at both of us. Our folks stood by and let us go until there was a live snake in a bale and my brother “rescued” us. That ended it. Dad calmly asked, “Got it out of your system?” Yep, I went for whatever my brother had originally asked for.

Now, years later, I find that things still haven’t changed too much. I enjoy hanging around the barn and helping Ron, most of the time. In the beginning, he wasn’t too sure. He’d ask for the channel locks. As I was off to the workbench, he would add, “It’s the tool with the blue handles that is laying on the right side under the hammer, the tool with the black rubber handle…”

Excuse me, I didn’t put all those years in as a gopher not to learn some things. I know what channel locks are!

Slowly, he accepted that maybe, just maybe I had paid my dues as a gopher and had learned a thing or two. Gopher duties were expanding. Now, I got to help him back the equipment in the barn. This isn’t my Dad’s equipment. They didn’t have 1000-bushel grain carts back then or large combines that barely fit through the barn door.

After a couple years of “I can’t hear you!,” “I can’t see you,” and “How far do I have before I hit?” and my scrambling from looking to see and running back to the cab to tell him, we now have moved up to walkie talkies. The life of a gopher is moving on up.

However, last week was the ultimate test and I believe that I have been moved up to “glorified gopher.” Ron needed to replace the knives on his corn head. Since Dad only had a two-row combine and not an International 1660, this was new to me. I didn’t realize how much of a tedious job it was.

He literally had to wheel himself up under the head and unbolt all the knives and then put the new ones on. To do this, he needed the rolls moved. To save him from having to get up and go around to the shaft, turn it, go back and do this over and over, it was my job to stand by the shaft and move it whichever direction he needed when he needed it.

This in itself was not a bad job, but rather it was the waiting and then moving it a teeny bit and waiting some more. I had forgotten how awful it had been just waiting all those years ago out in the hay field when persnickety baler broke down.

It took two long days to complete the task. My onlyexcitement the first day was watching the course that the water draining from the air conditioning unit was taking on its way to the floor drain! It was just a tad bit better than watching paint dry!

The second day I got a little creative. With my fingernail, I started a “drawing” by scratching a scene out in the dust on the combine. By the end of the day, I had a whole forest scene, complete with pine trees, mountains, a river and a cabin.

I never thought much of doing these menial tasks before but maybe it took this for me to realize that no matter how small of task, every second saved and every step saved counts for something. Ron told me how long it took him to change these knives before when he was alone. I can’t even imagine getting up and down from under the machine all those times and how much time it would have taken.

I now have a new respect for being a gopher. No matter how small, every little bit of help is important. I have moved from gopher to glorified gopher and am proud of it!