Pangola...it was Daddy's pasture grass of choice as we were

growing up. It was propagated by spreading stems cut from 

established plants and "cutting" them in with a disk harrow. 

(See discussion of harrows on Wikipedia.)

(See pangola grass as defined by Merriam Webster.)

We had a pangola "seed" patch of an acre or two over toward 

the  north east corner of our property. From there, we would 

cut  the stems and then spread and cut them in at another 

location to create a pasture.

A bit further digression before I get to the real story. The 

pangola "seed" patch was located to the east of what we called

the "well field". It was called that because (at one time) it

had a dug well on its western side. That makes sense so far.

What I never understood was why there was a well there in the

first place. It was too far from the house to be used as a 

water source and trying to hand water crops from a dug well

would be a formidable task. One of life's unsolved mysteries,

I guess. Wayne thinks there might have been a vegetable garden

nearby. 

What I do know is the area around the well did a super

job of holding water. You'd get a tractor stuck there in a

hearbeat if you weren't careful. I did; more than once.

Now, on to the real story.

One day Wayne and I were cutting pangola in the "seed" patch.

I was driving the old John Deere tractor while Wayne was riding

on the sickle bar mower being pulled behind. 

See a modern sickle bar mower. Much fancier than the left over horse 

drawn one we had! Ours was more like this:





As we were mowing along, I ran over an old stump, straddling 

it with the tractor. Well, the mower behind was much lower 

than the tractor and Wayne, seated on it, was very low to

the ground. The result was the stump was further disturbed

by the mower and Wayne was extremely close to the bumble bees

that came boiling out. They weren't too happy at having thier

nest disturbed.

Now, there's no way the old John Deere tractor could outrun a

mad bumble bee. I didn't have to worry, though, as Wayne 

provided a quite sufficient diversion!

Neither of us remembers getting stung. I guess it's true: God

takes care of fools, drunks and little kids. Wayne thinks he 

stayed with the mower and rode it out. I'm not sure.

I'm surprised he didn't bail and run while I chugged away. Again,

ain't no way that old John Deere could outrun mad bumble 

bees..even  in its highest gear which wasn't easy to get into 

in a hurry.

Ah, yes, thems wuz the good ol' days.



James (with thanks to Wayne) 31 May 2009