Burying Clarence and Thinning Apples

Harley, Leo, Ed, and Adam put Clarence’s body in the wagon and walked the horse, pulling it up to the corner of the property that Uncle Gene had told them about. Like Uncle Gene had said, it took until almost noon to dig the grave six feet into the rocky soil. They took turns, in pairs, filling in the soil over him, just like they had taken turns digging. Harley led them in another prayer after they laid him in and mounded the soil over him, and they solemnly led the horse back to the barn. Uncle Gene had taken care of notifying the sheriff, who would contact the Wisconsin authorities. Harley really hoped they could find Clarence’s family.

There were many tasks to be accomplished on the ranch. It was like a small town of its own. There was the stable for the horses. Several of the horses were used for herding the sheep and the small herd of cattle, as well as for Uncle Gene’s trips across the ranch. They also pulled wagons during the apple harvest.

Then there were the hundreds of sheep. They foraged the hills and valleys of grass, being watched by hands on horses and herded by the dogs. The corn and oat fields would be harvested for the animals to eat in the winter if the grass was covered by snow. The manure from the animal barns was used as fertilizer on the crops. The animals and crops fit together like a giant agricultural puzzle. This enormous operation was much more complicated than Charley’s small pig and corn farm in Iowa. Harley was anxious to see where Uncle Gene thought he would fit in.

The orchards were enormous, containing apple trees by the hundreds. Nine hundred and forty, according to Uncle Gene. There were Red Delicious, Grimes Golden, Courtland, and King David. The apple blossoming went well in the spring, and the thinning of the apples was started. The hands who took off for California were supposed to have finished it, but left it undone. Uncle Gene needed Harley, Leo, Adam, and Ed to finish it immediately. Harley had no idea that there was so much to do with apple trees. They had a couple on the farm at home, but they certainly did not get much more than a trimming every other year or so. Betty’s husband Jim always took care of that from the back of his pickup. The two neighbors shared the apples every year. Uncle Gene’s apples went to a huge distributing wholesaler in Seattle and were shipped east from there.

These apple trees were shorter and wider than the ones in Iowa. They had been carefully pruned to be easier to harvest. Uncle Gene had very specific instructions, to insure the best crop. Harley knew that he was about to be schooled by an expert.

“Men, what is known as ‘June drop’ is over. That is when apple trees just naturally drop some of their apples. Mother Nature is an ambitious woman and would like each tree to produce hundreds of apples, but she forgot to make the trees strong enough to hold all those apples. So even after some of the extras fall off in June, we have to remove the rest of the excess apples, or our trees will break.” Uncle Gene had his hands on his hips, and paused, obviously waiting to see if we had any questions.

I ventured to ask, “How do we know how many to take and how many to leave?”

“I want you to leave eight inches between each apple. Don’t leave any clusters, like two or three apples coming from the same small branch. The branch can hold three tiny apples, but only one mature apple,” Gene explained. “A man should be able to thin a tree in about ten minutes. Those fellas who just quit only finished thinning about one hundred trees. There are about 850 trees left to thin and there are four of you. Six trees an hour, eight hours a day, so all the trees should be done in how many days, Harley?”

Harley was an absolute whiz at figuring numbers in his head and was doing the math as his uncle was talking. “About four and a half days, sir,” he quickly answered.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Adam. “That was darn fast, young fella!”

“Good answer, Harley. I guess those Iowa schools did their job,” said Uncle Gene, who was as impressed as the other men, and also obviously proud. He repeated himself with, “Good answer.”

“So, when do we start?” asked Ed.

“Well,” Gene said, “Clarence is at rest now, so I want you fellas to go get some lunch at the bunkhouse, then get one of the horses hooked up to the apple wagon. Ask John which horse; you will be able to easily spot the apple wagon, trust me. All the extra apples you take off the trees get tossed in there. We grind them, add them to the silage and split it between the horses and the sheep. You can get four hours in after you eat, then finish up tomorrow, Friday, Saturday, and Monday. No work here on Sunday.”

“So, what do we do on Sunday?” asked Leo. “Town is pretty far away, but we ain’t got no money anyhow.”

Gene reassured him, “You can do nothing or you can do plenty. I run a short prayer service at ten o’clock, at a little chapel on the back of the main house, and by the time that is over, most all the hands are up and around. Some go for a ride, some pitch horseshoes. Some play cards; but there is no gamblin’ allowed on the ranch. It’s your day to do what you like. Town is really too far, unless you leave on Friday after dark and ride all night and all day Saturday. About once every six weeks, if we can make it work, we don’t work on Saturday. That’s the time to go to town.”

“Sounds good to us,” said Harley, looking around at the men and getting the affirmative nods he wanted from all of them. “Can we ask what the pay is for the men, Uncle Gene?”

"We'll be talking about that tomorrow, fellas. Let's see what kind of work your crew can actually do in a day first," his uncle replied.

“Let’s get goin’, then,” urged Ed. “Those apples ain’t gonna thin themselves!”

The four men strode back to the barn, looking around for John as they went. They spied him entering the bunkhouse with a large pot in hand. Another hand was behind him with an armful of what looked like bowls and bread. They hurried up their pace a little, wanting to make sure they got a seat and a bowl of soup. Earlier, breakfast had been left on the bunkhouse steps; biscuits and gravy. They made their own coffee on a hotplate in the bunkhouse. This sure was better than grubbing and begging for meals from strangers.

The other hands were pretty friendly. It might take a while to sort out who wanted to talk and who didn’t, but most of these guys seemed to like each other and to be open to the newcomers. Harley was pretty sure Uncle Gene had been kind of picky when he hired men, because there didn’t seem to be any really mean or angry fellas. He just wanted to work for Uncle Gene, earn his money, and get back to Iowa.