The Empty Haymow

Across the Fence #552

Haymows around the country will soon be filling up with hay again. Most people look at the haymow of an old barn as a place where hay was stored, and then fed to the cows during the long, winter months when cows were kept in the barn.

But, the haymow was also a playground for farm kids, especially on rainy spring days, when it was empty before haying began.

We had an old barn with a timber frame structure, just like most barns were constructed in those days. Now barns are built different and don’t lend themselves to the activities we engaged in.

I know we weren’t the only kids who played in an empty haymow and I bet many of you could tell me stories about the things you did. Of course you always hear stories about farm boys and neighbor girls playing in the haymow and perhaps that’s where they experienced a first kiss. In order to protect the guilty, I won’t ask any of you to divulge your secrets and I’ll plead the 5th amendment also!

Our barn had heavy timber beams that ran the width of the barn. They were probably about ten feet above the floor of the haymow. We’d climb up the wood timber braces to reach that horizontal beam. Then the fun began and it was just high enough to be a little scary too. You could pretend you were a circus high-wire aerialist and walk the beam from one side of the barn to the other.

I should point out that there was just enough loose hay left on the floor of the haymow to cushion your fall if you lost your balance. I guess we never considered the possibility of falling headfirst and breaking our neck!

Those cross beams were also the perfect place to pretend you were a paratrooper, jumping boldly out of an airplane. Of course we were tough Norwegian kids. We jumped without a chute. Or maybe that shows a lack of brains instead of courage! When you’re young, standing on a narrow beam ten feet above the landing area, it seemed like a long way down. Add another five feet or so above that, up to where our eyes were looking down from, and it was downright scary. We yelled, “Geronimo!” when we jumped. That must have been something we picked up from war movies of real paratroopers jumping out of airplanes. Even with all that practice I never had the desire to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. More power to all of you who did go airborne, but for me, I’ll stick to ground-pounding.

Another source of fun and adventure in an empty haymow was the hay rope. It ran the length of the barn up in the peak, but the end hung down and we could climb on it or swing from it. We played Tarzan with that rope. Standing on that cross beam again, we’d grab the rope, and swing out over the empty haymow. If we were lucky, we’d swing back far enough to grab the beam again, although sometimes we crashed into it.  I’m really surprised we never hurt ourselves seriously.

Other times we’d make a mound of hay on the floor. As we swung out and reached the highest point of the arc, we’d let go and try to land in the middle of the pile below. It worked best if you gave the Tarzan yell as you launched out into the air, but it turned into a scream as you plummeted to the floor of the haymow! I don’t know how to spell the Tarzan yell, so you’ll just have to yell it out as you read this to get the full affect. Then add a very long, blood-curdling “Aaaaahhhhhh!” as you let go of the rope. Next, imagine a loud thud and the air being suddenly forced out of a body as it smacks into the floor, just short of the pile of hay. We’d stagger to our feet, fighting for breath and say, “Uff da, that was really a dumb thing to do,” and then climb back up and do it again!

But, that wasn’t the most dangerous or dumb thing we did. Sometimes, we shimmied up the rope to the peak of the barn and grabbed hold of the wooden track that ran the length of the barn. That’s what the pulley that carried the hayfork ran on. From that point we could boost ourselves up into the tin cupola on the top of the barn, where the pigeons lived. Did I mention this was very high up in the air in an empty haymow.  If we’d fallen from that height it would probably have killed us… not the fall, but that sudden stop at the bottom. We must have thought about that possibility, but when you’re young, you know it could never happen to you.

If Dad had known some of the stupid things we did in that empty haymow, we’d have had bigger things to worry about than falling!

Now, the kind of adventures and fun we had in those old haymows, where our imaginations created our world, seems to be another thing of the past. As I drive by an old, abandoned barn, I like to imagine kids playing in the empty haymow and I wonder, “What kind of wonderful adventures did they have?”

*