What a Hicky Bar and a Bale of Hay Have in Common

by Kevin on July 11, 2012

I’ve never been a fan of hay bales, but I can see the need for them when you are keeping a horse in a pen. How else are you going to get asthma, itch for days, find greenery in places that only God actually knew existed, and get a hicky?

I got home Sunday night from our Bible Study and went to do the chores. I have been breaking a colt and I knew he would be wanting something to eat. After speaking to him, I went to the barn to get some hay. I should have sent the kids.

I opened up the barn door, and since there is no electricity, it’s kind of hard to see. We have something called a pigeon in Colorado. I’ve never been around them before. We didn’t have them in West Texas.

A pigeon kind of looks like the Sasquatch of the dove family. The Fiddleback Ranch variety that grows in my barn are roughly the size of an Apache attack helicopter and sound much the same…especially when you open the door and wake them up.

Another unique feature of this species of pigeon is that they have octopus DNA. An octopus has a defense mechanism whereby when startled, it shoots out a cloud of something that looks like diarrhea in the water to confuse the predator and aid in its escape. These pigeons have mastered that with the precision of a helicopter homing missile.

Three direct hits in less than two heartbeats is something to be admired. Providing you are not the one hit.

After a sigh and a thought of looking on the bright side (which I could not find one at the time), I reached for my knife to cut a new bale open. Only thing is, I had worn my suspenders to church and my knife was on my belt at the house. This might present a problem to some people, but to a cowboy, it is merely a challenge to find a new way to do something.

This challenge was overcome with the aid of a six inch long 7/16 hex head bolt lying on the barn floor.

I stuck the bolt underneath the baling twine and begin to twist the bolt in a clockwise direction; thus twisting the twine to the point of breaking.

(Note to self: the breaking strength of baling twine is akin to pulling a pine tree out of the ground.)

I was amazed to find myself struggling with the twine. Four thousand wraps into it and the stupid thing still hasn’t broken. What do they use in this stuff?

I can’t see the bale because it is dark (I found the bolt because I kneeled down to avoid the missile attacks and my knee strategically located the piece of steel), but I am sure that the four foot bale must have been compacted to at least six inches because of the torque-ing I am placing on it.

(Note to self: for every stupid action, there is an equal and opposite stupid reaction.)

Not only was I wearing pigeon ink, but it seems that a bale of hay to my feathered Sasquatch species serves the same purpose as cat litter does to cats. The twisting of twine has ushered in about a four pounds of pigeon poo-poo and it now covers my hands that are twisting the bolt.

The bolt slips out of my hands and unwinds at about 5,800 rpm’s. I cannot calculate the number of different statistical flight probabilities that bolt could have flown in, but I can tell you that it throat punched me at Mach 8. I felt like I had been attacked by a redneck ninja throwing star. Don’t jack with Bruce LeeRoy if you ever meet him in a barn.

(Note to self: punching a piece of string while gasping for breath does absolutely nothing…not one thing.)

This particular minion of Satan, otherwise known as a bale of hay, is languidly relaxing on its beautifully stacked partners at about the height of four feet. Being a tad bit upset like I am, I grab it in preparation for throwing.

This particular behavior is prevalent in the male human species. The thought process behind this action is that if something makes you mad, just throw it and you’ll feel better.

With strength not evident in my 150 pound body, I lift the entire bale over my head like a conquering viking-cowboy and roar my frustration like a T-Rex. It is at this point that the string breaks.

Seventy five pounds of grass and alfalfa fall on me. Wait…Let’s rephrase that.

Seventy five pounds of grass and alfalfa fall in me. (That is definitely more realistic.)

Looking back, I guess the cause of my asthmatic episode should not come as a surprise. I had been attacked by helicopters, pooped on three times, throat punched by a threaded ninja throwing star, and now I am covered in hay…to which I am allergic.

I stand there trying to breathe and I pull out my inhaler. I shove it into my mouth and press down on the medicated silver bullet…and fire four chips of hay into my lungs. I think you can throw a bale of hay at a locked and closed bank vault door and find some inside when you opened it. Why am I surprised to find it in my inhaler then?

After nearly suffocating on my nemesis, I finally decided against the gas can and lighting the entire barn on fire. Instead, I just reached down and gathered a bunch of hay into my arms…along with a rattlesnake.

Ok, it wasn’t really a rattlesnake. It was a doo doo bug. I guess it had come to try to roll me down to wherever doo doo bugs take their crap. But when there is one right in front of your face, in the semi-darkness outside the barn, when it starts to fly off, it reminded me of a rattlesnake. Its wings beat against the hay and it was remarkably similar the warning call of that ancient serpent.

I threw the hay again and puffed on my inhaler as I went to the truck to turn the headlights on to light up my battlefield.

With the addition of the lights, the chores went much smoother.

When I woke up the next morning, I itched in places that shouldn’t itch and my throat resembled a wild night at a hicky bar.

I’m certainly glad when I get to turn the horses out so they can eat the grass that God makes grow and I don’t have to fist fight bales of hay.

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Matthew 6:26

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  • rainer hildebrand

    Kevin, thank you for sharing this story. Its showed me I’m not the only feller who has stuff like this happen to him. I’m new to being turned on to followin yall, from Jake hershey. Wished I’d heard earlier , yall speak the word in a way that’s familiar to me. Thank you

  • Margie Johnson

    Thanks for the laugh Kevin..I can totally picture this happening just how you described it because of being on the receiving end of pigeons and hay bales!

  • Stacey Bussard

    Kevin, here in Colorado we always have a back up knife, lol

  • Greg Box

    Good Morning Kevin,

    Wow – I’m still laughing as I let you know how much I appreciate you and devotionals! Speaks to my heart and soul! Thanks for all you do and keep em coming, maybe the light deal sure may be worth trying to keep from having more attacks in the wee early peeks of morning and after the sun lays in the evening. I can certainly relate and really glad to hear that all of that crazy stuff don’t just happen to me either!! Ha, Ha, Great Stuff Amigo!

    P.S. We finally got a great rain night before last 3/4″ inch! Thank You Lord! But we had a hatch infestation of red ants some with wings and some not and they were everywhere it seemed close to our barn, and they were about as big as those sasquatch pigeons your talkin about – they were huge!

    All God’s Blessings To You And Your Family Always,

    Greg Box
    Midland, Texas

  • This. Is. Awesome.

  • Kevin, I have read this two or three times. I laugh like a crazy man everytime. I really appreciate that “throwin’ somethin’ to make you feel better” statement. I once karate chopped a horse in the head (again, it does not do anything…not one thing). Just remember: 1 Thes. 5:18 “give thanks all the time, this is what God wants for you in Christ Jesus”. Hicky bars aside!

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