Corn-Farm Boy (11 page)

“Mom,” said Wilma, “Rita Hass is going to sign up for detasseling. The Standard Seed Company is going to haul boys and girls out to their fields to detassel the hybrid corn. Rita's going and Donna Ruden is thinking about it.”

“If you girls think it's going to be fun,” said Raymond, “you are going to find out different.”

“But they pay well,” said Wilma, “and I need some new clothes for school this fall. Can I go, Mom?”

“I'll talk to Mrs. Hass about it,” said Mom. “If she lets Rita go, I suppose you can, too.”

“We have to sign up at the Farm Bureau office next Wednesday,” said Wilma.

Dick reached up to find a tassel. “Boy, how you'll have to stretch!” he cried.

“But I'm taller than you,” said Wilma. “The girls have to be above five feet and I'm five feet two inches. You have to be fourteen, but they'll take you at twelve if you're tall enough.”

“If you get much taller,” said Dick, “you'll look like a cornstalk yourself. That yellow hair of yours is just like a corn tassel.”

“Mom!” called Margy. “I've lost both my rubbers. They came off in the mud.”

“Dick,” said Mom, “see if you can find her rubbers.”

Margy had been walking in and out of the rows. She would follow one row until she found a stalk missing. Then she went through the empty place and followed another row. It was like going in and out of doors.

“When we get away from the ends,” Margy went on, “I feel like I'm lost.”

“You stay here by me,” said Mom. “We haven't time to go off hunting for little lost girls.”

By the time Dick found Margy's rubbers, her shoes had come off. Wilma and Mom had the same trouble. First they discarded rubbers because they became caked with mud and too heavy. When their shoes became caked too, they took them off and walked in bare feet. Dick ran back to the fence with all the shoes and rubbers. Dad and Raymond worked fast and got ahead.

“Hurry up, you slowpokes!” called Dad. “Let's try to keep together.”

Margy stopped playing and tagged beside her mother. Dick's legs began to get tired and ache. But he kept on pulling and stayed abreast of Wilma and Mom. The rows were long and twisted in and out over the rolling hillside. The hours passed slowly.

“Sometimes I wonder what the corn is talking about,” said Dick. “Do you hear that rustling, when the wind passes over the field?”

Wilma turned to Mom. “Dick believes he can
hear
the corn grow,” she said, laughing.

“I'm not the only one,” said Dick. “Scientists have
proved
it.”

“What does it say, Dick?” asked Margy.

The boy frowned and bit his lips. “I know but I won't tell,” he said firmly.

At last dinnertime came, so Mom and Margy went back to the house. Wilma wanted to prove how strong she was, so she went ahead with the two men. Dick found Buster covered with burrs. He led him back to the barnyard, where Margy waited. Poor Buster's shaggy hair was so covered with burrs he could not sit down. His tail was matted like a rope and Dick had to clip wads of his fur off. Then he sat down by the stock tank and patiently picked burrs out of the dog's long hair. Popcorn came up, panting.

“What are you laughing about, Stubby Tail?” asked Dick.

“Is Popcorn laughing?” asked Margy.

“Can't you see that big grin on his face?” asked Dick. “He's laughing because his hair is short and he doesn't get stuck up with cockleburrs like Buster does.”

“I brought me a great big cockleburr bush from the field,” said Margy. “It's all covered with burrs.” She dragged a huge plant behind her.

“I'll take it and burn it,” said Dick.

“No, Dick,” said Margy. “Don't burn it yet.”

Margy began picking the burrs off carefully. By sticking them together, she made a row of play baskets and dishes.

“See how nice they are, Dick?” she asked.

“They're nice all right,” said Dick. “But you better not let Dad see you doing that. He'll stop you in a hurry.”

Dick went to water the hogs and Margy followed.

“Do you remember that little runt, Squeaky?” asked Margy.

“Sure,” said Dick. He pointed her out in the pen.

“Oh, that's not our Squeaky. She was a runt,” said Margy. “She was little and cute.”

“She grew up while you were not looking,” said Dick. “I fed her so well, she grew into a big hog.”

“Is she still cute?” asked Margy.

“Not very,” said Dick. “Sometimes she's just plain mean, like her mother Susie used to be.”

Mom came out with a bushel basket.

“I know what you're after,” said Dick. “I'll bring in the sweet corn, Mom.” Mom went back to the house.

The sweet corn patch was at the edge of the vegetable garden, beside the potato patch. Margy followed at Dick's heels. Dick went over to the rows.

“Look here, Margy,” said Dick. “The coons have found the sweet corn already.”

“How do you know?” asked Margy.

Dick pointed to the damp ground. “See their tracks?” He found a plant with empty husks hanging down from the stalk. “Old Mr. Raccoon ate his dinner right here.”

“Why?” asked Margy.

“Why? Why do
you
eat? Because he was hungry,” said Dick. “He likes corn-on-the-cob as much as we do. He goes right down the row, stands on his hind legs, reaches up and pulls the ears down. Then he snaps off the corn and eats it, leaving the husk hanging. The
field
corn is too tall for him to reach, that's why he comes in our
sweet
corn patch.”

Margy came up closer and Dick showed her. “See the mud on this ear? His paws were muddy. He reached up, looked at this one and left it. It wasn't ripe enough to suit him. He left it for us.”

Margy stared, her eyes big with wonder. “Why don't you catch Old Mr. Raccoon and have him for a pet?”

“I'd like to,” said Dick. “Maybe I will some day. No, sir, people are not the only ones who like corn. Besides raccoons, woodchucks and field mice eat it, too. They depend on it. If Dad doesn't grow a big crop and spill a lot of it all over the fields, they'll go hungry this winter.”

“The squirrels, too?” asked Margy.

“Yes, the squirrels eat most of all,” said Dick. “I often find large piles of corncobs at the base of squirrel trees. The ground squirrels dig the soft kernels up out of the dirt when the seed corn is sprouting in the spring. But they get the tummy ache from the bug poison and fertilizer on it!”

Margy laughed. “How do you know?”

Dick's eyes twinkled. “Statue told me so.”

“Statue?” said Margy. “Who is Statue?”

“She was a mother ground squirrel I used to know,” said Dick. “Once when I was taking a letter out to the mailbox for Mom, I nearly stepped on her babies. The mother sat straight up like a statue and scolded me. That's why I named her that. So I left them in their nest. I took corn and oats to them, but they liked their wild mustard seed pods best. Then winter came and they went down into their den to sleep.”

“And you didn't see them any more?” asked Margy.

“In the spring they were gone,” said Dick.

Dick took the basket of sweet corn into the house and he and Margy husked it. Mom had the kettle of water boiling and soon the corn was ready to eat. Dad and Raymond and Wilma came in from the field. They washed up and came in to eat. Dick sprinkled salt on the hot steaming ears, one at a time, and watched the yellow butter melt and run. He kept turning the ear as he nibbled the corn. He lost track of the number he ate.

“I'm so full of corn,” he cried at last, “I feel just like Old Mr. Raccoon!”

Everybody laughed. After dinner, Dad announced that he would spray the weeds by the road. He told the boys and Wilma to go back to the cornfield.

“Can I go, too?” asked Margy.

“You can stay in with Mom, Margy,” said Dad.

Dad went out the lane with his spraying outfit. The tractor pulled the sprayer with its big barrel and long hose. The last thing Dad said was, “Boys, be careful with that corn knife. Be sure you don't get cut with it.”

“Come on, Dick,” called Raymond.

Somehow it took the boys a long time to get started.

“Just a minute,” answered Dick. “I want to see how many little chickadees there are in that nest in the apple tree.” He ran out.

“You leave those green apples alone!” Mom called out of the window. “They'll make you sick. Don't eat them.”

“They never made me sick yet,” Dick replied, “unless it was when I was little and didn't know about it.”

“Bring me in a basket of corncobs before you leave,” added Mom.

Dick got his pockets full of green apples and slid down.

“There are five little chickadees up there,” he told Wilma. He handed a few apples to his sister. Then he added, “The secret is to put salt on them.”

“On the chickadees' tails, you mean?” asked Wilma.

“No—on the green apples, silly!” laughed Dick. “It makes them taste better and it keeps you from getting the stomachache.”

“Who told you that?” asked Wilma.

“Nobody,” said Dick. “I learned it myself. Here, put some salt on them. I sneaked the salt shaker out of the kitchen when Mom wasn't looking.”

Wilma shook salt on hers. Raymond nibbled green apples too, and they started out. Dick stopped at the cob pile in the barnyard and took a basketful in to his mother. Then he caught up with the others. Wilma began to spit hers out.

“They've got no taste,” she said. “Those red ones Mrs. Hass uses for pies are better. They're tart and sour.”

They went into the field, looking for cockleburrs. Raymond carried the corn knife. Dick and Wilma wore old gloves for pulling. All three were barefoot, with pants rolled up to their knees. They found this part of the field fairly clean, so they moved leisurely. Dick's sharp eyes were interested in all kinds of other things than cockleburrs.

He spotted a meadow lark's nest in the adjoining pasture, so he went over to look. It had one baby in it—only one, with orange-yellow fur on it. The next thing he saw was a red-winged blackbird's nest in a sour dock among the cattails at the edge of the ditch leading to the creek. The mother bird flew back and forth over his head and scolded him. So he did not go too near.

“Hey!” called Raymond. “We're not hunting birds' nests. We're chopping cockleburrs.”

“Oh, but look!” cried Dick. “There's Goldie, our cow. What's she doing down here? I'm going over to see.”

The next minute Dick was gone. In a short time he came running back, excited and panting.

“Goldie's had her calf,” he said, “right out there near the windmill. She's in a low place by the creek where there's lots of water. If we don't take it in, the calf will die sure. It's a pretty little calf, too—what I can see of it.”

Raymond hastily jabbed the corn knife into a fence post. The boys lifted the barbed wire and all three hurried over into the pasture. When Raymond saw the cow and the newborn calf, he turned to Wilma. “Run to the house and bring Dick's old wagon,” he said. “Tell Mom she better come and help.”

Wilma and Mom and Margy came back running. Dick had to hold the calf's nose out of the water, while Raymond got into the hole. The calf was trying to stand up in the water. At last Raymond got hold of its legs. Then Mom and Wilma and Dick all helped to lift it out and put it on some sacks in the wagon. Goldie, the mother cow, kept on mooing. Raymond pulled the calf back to the barn, where Dick put it in a stall and covered it with sacks. Mom and Wilma and Margy led Goldie mooing mournfully back to the barn. She seemed to know that they had helped her calf.

After the calf was safely cared for, Raymond said, “I'm not going out again. We got most of the cockleburrs Dad told us to get. He'll spray the others. Dick, you run out and bring in the corn knife.”

“O. K.,” said Dick. He returned to the creek but could not find the corn knife or remember where Raymond had left it. He saw a boy on a bicycle coming along the road. He watched him for a while. The boy stopped and left his bike by the fence. He climbed over and came in the field to see Dick.

It was Elmer Ruden. “What you doin'?” asked Elmer.

“I thought I might go down to the water hole,” said Dick.

“Got any turtles there?” asked Elmer.

“Plenty,” said Dick. “Bullheads and minnows, too.”

“How deep is it?” asked Elmer.

“Deep enough to swim in,” said Dick.

“You been swimming this summer?” asked Elmer.

“No,” said Dick. He could not mention his rheumatism to Elmer or the fact that swimming was forbidden.

They started to walk, and there, right in front of him, Dick saw the corn knife sticking in a fence post. He pulled it out.

“What's that?” asked Elmer.