TYPICAL SCENE IN THE STRAWBERRY FIELD OF NORTH CAROLI NA- DELIVE Rl NG STRAWBERRIES TO NORTH BOUND REFRIGERATOR TRAINS 



The Autobiography of a Strawberry Grower 



By Frank E. Beatty 



Chapter VII — In which is shown the Value of Executive Capacity in a Foreman 



THE arrangements I had made for 

 marketing the crop of berries that 

 had just been harvested were very 

 satisfactory indeed, so far as my 

 fancy berries were concerned, but my 

 mistake this time was in failing to provide 

 for the sale of my second-grade berries. 

 This did not bother me much, however, 

 as I knew that it would be an easy matter 

 to decide upon a plan for selling the 

 second-grade fruit at a fair price. I was 

 too busy just then to give it any thought. 

 My whole time was taken up in overseeing 

 the work in the field where several men 

 were busily engaged in burning over the 

 old fruiting beds and narrowing down the 

 rows for second crop. The fire had swept 

 over all the fruiting beds except one acre 

 which was situated just west of a raspberry 

 patch, and the hay-tedder was being rushed 

 over this acre as fast as the horse could 

 take it. The wind was blowing quite 

 hard, and everything was so favorable to 

 burning that I was rushing every man on 

 the farm to the very limit. 



From the appearance of the clouds, 

 which were rapidly spreading, I felt pretty 

 sure that everything was going to get a 

 good soaking before sundown. When 

 the hay-tedder was far enough ahead I or- 

 dered the men to set the mulching on fire. 

 Two men started for the west side, one 

 at each end of the patch. They filled 

 their forks with straw and set it on fire, 

 and started towards each other, going al- 

 most on a run. The burning straw was 

 held close enough to the mulching to set 

 fire to it as they went. The wind was 

 blowing much harder than I had realized, 

 and in a second of time the flames were 

 leaping higher than our heads. This fright- 

 ened the horse hitched to the tedder, and 

 he came across the field between a trot 

 and a run. I tell you that maclime 



kicked straw higher than an old rooster 

 ever kicked gravel when scratching for his 

 favorite biddy, but the driver held on to 

 the lines and kept him in place. I judged 

 that the driver was in about as big a rush 

 as the horse. The flames were getting 

 close enough to make it rather uncomfort- 

 able for both. 



This little excitement started everybody 

 to laughing. I have heard of smiles that 



never wear off, but this was not the stick- 

 fast kind; at least it soon changed to a 

 decidedly serious expression. The flames 

 had leaped over into the raspberry patch. 

 These also had been mulched around the 

 hills with coarse strawy manure. Every- 

 one of us was soon fighting fire like a 

 Chicago fire department. Our only fire 

 extinguishers were pitchforks, and the 

 harder we beat the flames the faster and 

 more greedily they licked up the dry 

 material. The green foliage on the berry 

 bushes were crackling like eggs roasted in 

 a country fire-place. The raspberry patch 

 was just south of our house, and it was 



Pa«e 125 



not long until the "cook" was on the scene 



with two buckets of water, and in her ex- 

 citement she dashed the water where there 

 was no fire, and not likely to be any, and 

 rushed to the pump to refill the "fire de- 

 partment" she was operating. By the 

 time she returned the fire was subdued 

 and so were most of the raspberry bushes, 

 and, to be honest about it, the spirits of 

 all the firemen were subdued too. Our 

 clothes were wringing wet with perspira- 

 tion, and eyebrows were scorched a little. 



"Why didn't you think of water in the 

 first place.''" my wife asked, almost out of 

 breath. 



"Well, if you think the water you 

 carried had anything to do with putting 

 out the fire just go and look where you 

 threw it." 



The joke was so good that she laughed 

 harder than any of us. By this time the 

 men who had so faithfully fought the fire 

 came up to where my wife and I were 

 talking, and they expressed their regrets of 

 my loss. 



"I greatly appreciate your sympathy as 

 as well as your untiring efForts to save my 

 berry patch, but I am not going to lose 

 any sleep over the raspberry patch. If 

 the bushes are killed we will put the 

 ground in shape for strawberry plants, and 

 will set the whole block in Clydes, Hav- 

 erlands and another good early bisexual 

 next spring. Boys, I believe the gain in 

 getting the strawberry field burned over 

 before the rain will be greater than will 

 the loss of the raspberrj' patch." 



It was now raining so hard we had to 

 seek shelter in the packing house, and it 

 continued to rain until the next day. 

 Just as soon as the ground was fit the 

 strawberry rows were narrowed down with 

 a bar-shear plow, and two teams were put 

 to work hauling manure, which was spread 



