"Stay In the tracks."

When I was a young girl, occasionally we had the opportunity to go feed with my Dad. "Back in those days," the tractor had 2 small front wheels--like a tricycle--and then, of course, the back wheels. We LOVED going to feed with Dad! The River Bottoms were beautiful...a quiet, serene place....a catharsis for the soul. Being Dad's helper was a compliment...AND a commitment. He put great trust in you to help him get the work done. The "work" was our living--the way in which our livelihood was provided. Mom taught how important it was to respect, to listen and to learn from Dad. He taught us certain things, and one of the very most important things while feeding, was to stay in the tracks. That's the last thing he would say as we pulled away from the stack yard. I can still hear his voice...."STAY IN THE TRACKS." He didn't say it loud or with punctuation (that is why there is no exclamation point), he just said it because he expected you to do as he said. You had to watch carefully...at least I did. I can remember leaning to the side to see if the two front tires were in the tracks. The thing was, if the two front tires got out of the tracks and you didn't notice... it was too late. You could never get back in the tracks...well, I mean, not without a lot of work and skill...and for me -- tears. Now, IF you did by chance, happen to get out of the tracks, Dad didn't yell and scream or anything like that. You knew he was disappointed...you knew you had let him down. He would come up to the tractor and skillfully--somehow--get the wheels back in the grooves, or back in the tracks.
Ahh, the stack yard! Ummm...even in the coldest of winter...even in the wettest spring, the stack yard was warm and smelled good. If you could get in between a row of bales or in a little cubbyhole Dad had made by removing bales, the smell of hay was sweet. Pulling a stem out of the bale to chew on tasted sweet and moist. It is such a trip down memory lane for me to go to the stack yard. As soon as Earl swung the gate open and I entered deep in the center lane of the hay stack...the smell and warmth struck me. I was overwhelmed. The bales of hay are much larger now. Rather than seeing Dad grab a bale and boost it with his knee, then throw it up on the wagon, I now watch Earl ratchet a 800 lb. bale on to the platform on the back of the tractor. Oh, by the way, the tractor we use nowadays--the tractor we lovingly call, "the old Jalopy," has 4-wheel drive and great big fat tires. It is easy for me to stay in the tracks and not really too much of a chance to stray out.
Once the bale inches forward enough to begin to fall off the 5-high stack, inertia takes over and Earl has to jump out of the way below. I smile to myself as I think about creativity and using what one has available at their fingertips to make something work. My Dad taught me an invaluable lesson one day in the corral while helping him. Dad was backing the tractor up to the wagon so he could load it with hay. My job was to hold the tongue of the wagon with one hand and the bolt which needed to be dropped in the hole of the trailer tongue + tractor hitch, in the other hand. For some unknown reason, I didn't have gloves on, therefore, I was holding the bolt, most likely, very precariously between my thumb and my forefinger. It was one of those snowie, wet, sloppy winter/spring storms and not wanting to get any of the wet, green stuff that was everywhere, on my hands, I was acting a little reluctant to be fully engaged. Observing my actions, Dad said, "You're not sugar. You won't melt. Take hold of that bolt and drop it in." My youthful feelings were hurt, but I caught on quickly. Commit...fully commit. In other words, once you begin, stay in the tracks. Many times in my life since that day in the corral, I have thought about what Dad taught me. I am not sugar. I haven't melted yet--despite any storm I've ever encountered, especially if I am staying in the tracks.
The beauty really begins when you get to the snow-covered pasture in the River Bottoms and the cows are anxious to get their food. They quickly follow the tractor, impatiently butting each other and snorting, till you can see their breath on the air, in order to be first in line for the delicious hay. It's a warm experience...despite the nip in the air.




The cows each begin to settle, satisfied with their own pile of sweet smelling hay. That is, until they look up to see that hay is still spilling off the platform. As the cows leave their pile of hay, in search of another pile that might taste sweeter or contain more alfalfa, they run ahead and the babies are left to....they don't exactly know what to do with the pile of hay. First they put their head down, like they are going to eat.




The babies taste the hay, but quickly determine that no matter how good and sweet it is, the warm, sweet milk they can get from their mothers is much more to their liking. They begin to play "King of the Hill" in the piles of hay and as they discover the cushion, they lay down and burrow in to the fluffy stuff.

Once the little ones notice their Moms might have moved several 100 feet away, they jump up out of their warm nest and begin to pursue their guardian. When their little feet hit the crusted over snow, they slow down and with very wobbly legs, they cross the space until they reach their Mother.
Sometimes as they search for their seemingly lost Mother, they panic as they run through the snow listening for her beller. Or, maybe they are not afraid at all--they are just enjoying the big pasture of life and their new-found ability to run and leap and play in the snow.


Knowing there is plenty of feed for all the mothers and that the babies will in turn have plenty to eat, we turn the tractor back toward the hay barn. In the old days, we would sing as we crawled along through the snow. The scenery in the country is as beautiful as it can be...well thought out and planned by the master planner and landscape architect. Sometimes the peace and beauty sing loudly enough, there is no need for my vocal melody.

As I sit high atop the Old Jalopy, I think about how much I love and respect my Dad and the things he taught me. I am thankful to my Mother for teaching me to honor and respect my Dad. I think about how thankful I am to be able to enjoy the life today that they introduced me to many years ago. I think about staying in the tracks of many more things than just feeding the cows. Each night I kneel and pray and thank Heavenly Father for the teachings I've had and pray for the strength to stay in the tracks.

We leave the hay and the cows and the River Bottoms and travel to the earthly memorial honoring Dad. It is his birthday and I just want t0 let him know in unspoken words that I love and respect him and am still trying daily to fully commit.


I know Dad is there..."Just Beyond the Moon," or perhaps right here...in the light of the moon. I don't think he is worrying if we are staying in the tracks. I think he is busy teaching others who are eager to learn about the tracks and then how to stay in the tracks.