Repairing the Rhino brush hog

Richard is my partner in our cow/calf business.  He was Papa’s partner for more than twenty years so he has been at it for quite a while.  Richard turned 80 years old this year, but don’t let that fool you.  He is powerfully built and I have difficulty keeping up with him due to my jellified body from too many years behind a desk.  Richard is constantly advising me and trying to bring me up to speed in the business and, in a good natured way, we are constantly at odds about whether his 30 years of experience or my 10 minutes of logical “thinking about it” is the best approach to the tasks at hand.  I trust his judgment completely on the really important stuff.  Recently, our Rhino “brush hog” broke down and it was determined that one of the clutches was failing.

A brush hog is a mean machine that chops down anything that gets in its way.  For clarity here, I insert the Wikipedia definition of a brush hog:

This is a typical brush hog

A brush hog is a type of rotary mower. Typically these mowers attach to the back of a farm tractor using the three-point hitch and are driven via the Power take-off (PTO). It has blades that are not rigidly attached to the drive like a lawnmower blade, but are on hinges so if the blade hits a rock or stump, it bounces backward and inward, and then inertia makes it go outwards again.

The rotary blades are not sharpened in the same way as a conventional mower blade. They are usually quite dull so they whack through dense plant growth, where a sharp blade will get stuck or slowed down. The blades are very heavy, up to an inch thick, so the momentum pulling out is stronger than the forces of the vegetation bouncing in. They are made of heat treated high carbon steel that can withstand strikes with hard objects such as rocks and stones.

The one we pull behind the tractor is called a Rhino “bat wing” because it has a main center blade and a hydraulically adjustable wing on each side that can be set to mow slopes.  We use ours flat and it mows a 15 foot swath with each pass.  There is a drive shaft coming from the main gear box to each of the 3 secondary gearboxes and a clutch device on each of them to take up the shock of initial engagement or hitting hard objects.

Richard decided we would repair it ourselves and proceeded to show me what needed to be done.  “Just remove this nut, slide the drive shaft back and the entire mechanism can be removed for repair.”  “It won’t work” I said, “the drive shaft will only slide back two inches and we need at least three inches to clear the shaft it’s mounted on.”  “It’ll work” he said, “I have faith.”  “You’re wrong” I repeated, “there’s got to be another way.”  “It’ll work,” he said.  “Wanna bet?” I queried.  “Sure, you’re on” he said.  So, with that, we went to work

The task was to remove nut (C) and slide the clutch mechanism (everything between C and D) off the end of the shaft at nut (C).  I immediately recognized that the only lateral movement possible was the distance between (A) and (B), hence we would not be able to slide it far enough to remove it from the end of the shaft at (C)

Initially, the nut (C) would not come lose and I had to use a cutting torch to get it off, quite a delicate task when its important to not damage the threads of the shaft.  We finally got it off, and as I expected, we were not able to move it far enough to release it from the shaft.  What I did not expect was that it did allow enough movement to remove the small drive shaft between the universal joints at (A) and (B) and that facilitated the clutch removal.  So, once again, I consume a portion of “crow pie,” a delicacy that is becoming standard fare on my menu.

Richard gloating and holding up the clutch mechanism

Chicken Sale?

Well, I went to my first “chicken sale” yesterday afternoon.  I was told it was akin to a flea market where you are likely to find just about anything, and its true!  The whole affair is run like an auction with the exception of the definite “party” atmosphere.

We arrived early to find a good parking spot and to allow time to peruse all the treasures on display.  Anyone can bring their unwanted items to a chicken sale, find a spot along the lengthy driveway, and lay their goods out for others to see, all for no charge.  Also, anyone can bid on the items as long as they get an assigned “buyer’s number” before the sale begins.  Once you have a buyer’s number, you keep it for your lifetime and use it whenever you attend this chicken sale.  I went with Gary, one of the “board members” who has been before and has a buyer’s number.

At first, I thought the name chicken sale was a little deceiving but then I noticed a large barn at the end of the driveway.  I entered the barn and saw an amazing assortment of game birds.  Ducks, chickens, quail, turkeys, and geese were there, just to name a few, but the amazing thing was that there were several species of each!  The barn was literally packed with birds, all in cages stacked as high as you could reach; thousands of them.  I guess if you wanted a more descriptive name for the affair you could call it a “game bird sale.”  You could also purchase eggs from any of these species.

At 6:00 pm sharp, the owner came out of the barn and worked his way to the end of the driveway farthest from the barn where the first items were displayed.  In a clear auctioneer’s call he began asking for bids on what appeared to be a box of junk.  He started at $5 and was soon just asking for $1.  When he got no takers, he added a couple of used tires belonging to the same seller and that got the ball rolling.  The tires went for about $10 as I remember it, and the box of junk went with them.  In this manner, the auctioneer worked his way along the driveway until he was back at the barn.

All of the items on sale were used and sold “as-is.”  Corrugated roofing, lumber, fencing, farm implements, horse tack, quads, ammunition, guns, furniture, clothing and appliances were some of the items sold that night.  Many of the items on sale were in such bad shape that a junk yard would have refused them but, believe it or not, everything sold.  I noticed several times that items went for a price very near what you would pay if you bought it new at a store but it seems like all the excitement and the desire to be “part of the action” overrode common sense.  I’m sure many of the buyers woke up the next morning wondering what the hell they had done.

Gary bought a “critter cam,” an infra-red camera for photographing warm blooded animals in the dark, that normally sells for $230 for $10, and it works!  He also bought a very old antique telephone hand crank that contained three large horseshoe magnets that he said he was going to use for fishing.  Apparently, you just drop the ends of two wires into the water a few feet apart, crank the handle, and the fish float to the surface.  I’ve heard of that before but never witnessed it.  Maybe he will take me along when he tests it.  All in all, I had a good time and met some interesting people, several of whom were newbies like me.

Communist Pilgrims?

For anyone who thinks Obama and Communism are the best direction for our country, think again.  I just found and interesting footnote in a book I just completed about the Pilgrim women who came to this country on the Mayflower in 1620.  It seems that they were the first to speak out about the shortcomings of the communal form of government the Pilgrims had adopted during their first two years in Plymouth.  According to the book, the communist administration of government was responsible for “breeding confusion and discontent.”

In a formal complaint written by William Bradford, the colony’s first governor, he added this comment: “For ye yong-men that were most able and fitte for labour and service did repine that they should spend their time and strength to work for other men’s wives and children without any recompense…  And for men’s wives to be commanded to doe servise for other men, as dressing their meate, washing their cloathes, etc., they deemed it a kind of slaverie, neither could many husbands well brooke it.”  [spelling left intact]

Anyone who has ever worked in a “union” environment knows of the deadbeats who cannot be fired and are only along for the ride.  Those are the “…yong-men…fit for labour…” that William Bradford was talking about, those unmotivated ner’-do-wells that lay their burden on the rest of us.  Union shops are a breeding ground for those types and unionism only benefits those who cannot survive on their own efforts, they need the mob to support them.

Shortly after the second group of Pilgrims arrived on the ships “Ann” and “James, the settlers adopted an “every man for his owne particuler”  [spelling left intact] form of governance and it was this attitude that produced the type of people that allowed the colonies to grow and prosper.  This is the “every man for himself” attitude that the Democrats mock!  What’s wrong with every man carrying his own weight?  Does anyone remember the battle cry of Lenin and the Communist Manifesto as they led Russia into 60 years of poverty?  “Workers of the world; Unite!” is the cry of communism and unionism and is the path of the Obama administration.

The new emblem of the Democrats

Throughout history, men have tried communism and the results have always been abject failure.  We should learn a lesson from those Pilgrim ladies or we are apt to end up like the former Soviet Union (Union of Soviet Socialist Republic) or their puppet society in Cuba!  Communism always leads to tyranny and a Police-State.  Speak out, or soon, you will be afraid to speak out!

Floyd Patterson

In the 1990’s I was in Las Vegas during the weekend of a major heavyweight title bout between two contenders whose names I do not remember.  Walking through the lobby of the MGM Grand, I found myself in a wide hallway standing near a sign advertising a chance to meet two other ex-heavyweight title holders in one of the adjacent rooms.  Entering the room I suddenly found myself face to face with none other than Ken Norton.  Standing there in his prime, Ken was an awesome physical presence and I could not imagine being toe to toe with him in a roped off arena.

Ken Norton

There were several people in a line waiting to chat with Mr. Norton and for a moment, I considered joining that line but then I notice another person sitting at a table a few feet away.  There was no line at the other table so I walked up and introduced myself to the man who first exposed me to professional boxing, Floyd Patterson.  I was only eleven years old when Floyd beat Archie Moore to win the title being vacated by the retiring Rocky Marciano.  Both fighters had stepped up from the light heavyweight division to claim the heavyweight title but Archie was 42 years old at the time, and Floyd was just 21.  In a unique matchup, Archie was the oldest ever to vie for the heavyweight title, and Floyd was the youngest ever to win it.

Floyd Patterson

I chatted with Floyd uninterrupted for almost half an hour and was surprised at how small he appeared in contrast to Ken Norton who stood just a few feet away.  It was difficult to imagine that they had both been in the same weight class.  Floyd had been the New York Golden Gloves champion in 1951 and 1952, and had won Olympic Gold in the middleweight division at Helsinki in 1952.  Floyd won the heavyweight division in November of 1956 and over the ensuing  30 months, he defended it four times, finally losing the belt to Ingemar Johansson in June of 1959.

Ingemar Johansson

In June of 1960, Floyd regained the title in a rematch and became the first man ever to regain the title after losing it.  After defending his title twice in 1961, he ended his career with two losses, both in the first round, to Sonny Liston.  Sonny held the title for just 17 months, after which began the 14 year reign of Muhammad Ali.  I walked away from that meeting with Floyd Patterson with an autographed T-Shirt and fond memories of a decent man.  He was a gladiator of modern times.  Professional boxing is a unique sport.  I’ve heard it said that you play football, you play baseball and you play basketball, but you don’t play boxing.