Cotton fields are calling
Stopping for a school bus to unload its passengers is all I need to be reminded of my cotton picking days back on the farm.
September was a busy time for cotton farmers. It was urgent for them to pluck the cotton boles from their burs and get them to the gin before rainy and cold weather. Rain not only made the cotton harder to pick but also adversely affected the quality of the lint (fiber). Good quality meant the farmer received top dollar on his investment and made it easier for him to meet his obligations.
Therefore, every member of the family was involved. All six of us kids were put on alert four to six weeks before the first bole opened when our mother called us together to measure us for pick sacks. She made them from washed guano sacks, sewing wide straps to both sides of the sack to ensure they would not drag on the ground under the weight of 25 to 30 pounds of cotton.
Picking cotton from 3:30 p.m. until dark was an after-school responsibility us kids fulfilled throughout the cotton-picking harvest. We’d change into work clothes, grab a baked sweet potato or a buttered biscuit from the cupboard and jog to the field with cotton sacks flying. The workday stretched from sunup to sundown on Saturdays and on days when school let out for cotton picking.
It was not unusual for us to miss a day of school to pick cotton while under the threat of rain. I recall one instance when our family picked a bale of cotton (1,300 lbs.) in a single day.
Surviving a day in the cotton field was not an easy task. Even though we worked hard to keep our fields free of grass and weeds, bending over and carrying a heavy sack of cotton all day long took a toll on the back. It was also impossible to keep the fingers free of injury. The repetitive task of snatching five locks of cotton from each bole with one hand put the fingers in harm’s way and often led to sore cuticles.
Picking scattered cotton was the worst part of harvest. It consisted of gathering in the last boles to open and usually occurred around Thanksgiving, after the onset of winter. Cold temperatures and cotton picking were not a good match. We’d walk row after row of our 12- to 15-acre field, grabbing a lock here and there and winding up with three or four hundred pounds. After ginning, it would generate maybe $50…Of that amount, each of us kids received an equal portion, and were happy to have enough pocket change to buy several ice cream bars from the school store and see a few Saturday afternoon shoot’em-ups at the local movie theater.
Clif Knight is a staff writer for the Hartselle Enquirer.