1 scythe, 5 acres, 8 hours?

"Mowing Matches" were competitions where contestants with scythes would try to mow a certain area in the least time, or try to mow the most area in a given time. These contests date back to the 1700s or earlier. (From the mid-1800s onward, mowing matches were also held to compare the performance of various designs of mechanical mowers and reapers.) 

Listed below are the published results of some mowing matches held during the past few centuries.



1795 -- Finchley, England 
2 acres (0.8 ha) of grass cut in six hours and 40 minutes

A mowing match was decided a few days ago at Finchley; the prize being a fat hog of eight and twenty stone, and a wooden powdering-tub lined with lead. Only married men under one and thirty years of age were allowed to be candidates, of which there were eleven The winner cut down, and laid in swathe, in a neat and farmer-like manner, two acres of grass, in six hours and forty minutes.

1822 -- New Boston, NH, USA 
One acre (0.4 ha) of grass cut in one hour and 26 minutes

There was a famous mowing match in New Boston, on Saturday, August 17th, between Mr Daniel Andrews, of New Boston, and Mr Abel Hart, of Goffstown. The competition was who should mow an acre of meadow grass the quickest and best. The ground was staked out and the work performed in the presence of numerous spectators. Mr Andrews completed his acre in one hour and twenty six minutes. Mr Hart in one hour and twenty eight and a half minutes. The victory was of course decided in favor of Mr Andrews.  Amherst (N.H.) Cabinet.

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1826 -- Stratham, NH, USA 
813 square feet (75.5 square meters) in one minute

    On the morning of the 4th inst. many of the farmers and other inhabitants of Stratham assembled at the Plain's corner to witness the novel exhibition of a mowing match. The premium was an elegant scythe, by which the work was executed. The rule was previously established that no candidates should be accepted, excepting those between the ages of 18 and 21; that after the work was executed it should be measured, and the three best mowers should again perform the task. Three judges were appointed: Major Benj. Clark, Major David Robinson, and Capt Joseph Smith, with liberty to the mowers to select two additional ones. if they should think fit.
     When the work was executed by the nine mowers who had presented themselves as candidates, it appeared that Messrs Benjamin F Clark, Nathan L Morrill, and Benjamin Kelly, had done the best minutes mowing; and the work was again performed by them, when it was declared by the judges that Mr C. had mowed in one minute, 45 strokes, 8 feet swathe, and 101 feet in length, being 808 feet square; Mr M. 50 strokes, 7-3/4 feet swathe, and 103 feet in length, being 796 feet square; and Mr K. 48 strokes, 7-7/12 feet swathe, and 107-1/4 feet in length, being 813 feet and one quarter square; and Mr Kelly accordingly received the premium. The thanks of the company were tendered to the gentlemen who acted as judges; to Capt Smith for the use of his field; and to Rev Mr Cummings, for an elegant and appropriate address delivered by him upon the occasion.
     Previous to the dissolution of the meeting, Major Smith, aged 80 last autumn, mowed one minute and cut over a surface of 803 feet square. The work was executed by him with great ease, and he was rewarded by the applause of all present and with a badge of respect and honour. It is proposed to continue these meetings; and we shall endeavour in our next paper, to give some further account of the plan. We regret that our limits will not allow a more extended notice of this first exhibition of the kind.
[Exeter Gazette]

1827 -- Canandaigua, NY, USA
586 square feet (54.4 square meters) in one minute

     In giving an account of the festivities off the 4th, the mowing match should not be forgotten. As soon as the procession returned from the church, a large concourse of people repaired to the meadow of Mr Thaddeus Chapin, a few rods west of the burying ground, where the following exercises took place: Fourteen candidates entered for the premiums, six in number, to be awarded to the man who should cut the most grass, and in the best manner, in the space of one minute. The first premium, (an elegant scythe with snath) was taken by Calvin Simmons, who cut 586-1/2 square feet; swarthe 9 feet 2 inches wide. The second do. (an axe was) awarded to John Kentm who cut 511 square feet; swarthe 9 feet 9 inches wide. Third do. (a hoe), to John Woby, a colored man, who cut 546 square feet; swarthe 9 feet wide. Fourth do. (a fork) to Daniel Trowbridge, who cut 508-1/2 square feet; swarthe 9 feet wide. Fifth do. (a spade) to Elias Russell, who cut 557 square feet; swarthe 9 feet wide. Sixth do. (a shovel) to K. Murray, who cut 496 square feet; swarthe 8 feet wide.
     All the work was extremely well done, and it was with some difficulty that the judges, Messrs. Bates, Wilson, and Hubbell, could determine which of the men ought in justice, receive the last two premiums.
     The premium articles were all of elegant workmanship and were given by several of our most respectable citizens.
[Canandiagua Repository]

1828 -- Canandaigua, NY, USA
892 square feet (82.9 square meters) in one minute

The Mowing Match at Canandaigua on the 4th excited much interest. The first premium, a Plough, was awarded to Samuel Remington, of that town, who mowed in one minute 100 feet in length, and a total of 892 square feet.

1856 -- Vallejo, CA, USA
5 acres (2.0 ha) of grass cut in 7 hours, 55 minutes

The True Californian gives an account of a mowing match which came off on the 9th instant, in Vallejo Valley, near the town of Vallejo, between Addison M. Ripley, from Maine, and Mr. Ball, from Vermont. The task was five acres of grass each, turning off two and a half tons to the acre! They mowed against time. Mr. Ripley won the match, finishing his work in seven hours and fifty-five minutes, and beating his adversary a quarter of an acre!! The stake was five hundred dollars. Mowing machines would not stand much chance with such men.

COMMENTARY

The results of mowing matches should give some indication of what extremes are possible when a scythe is in very skilled hands attached to a strong body that is pushed to its limits. Such a pace is obviously not sustainable for actual farm work.

Of course, the results of non-standardized contests cannot be compared too closely, since there are numerous factors that can cause variations in the outcomes. These factors include differences in grass type, height, density and moisture content; contest format; requirements and penalties related to quality of cut; and inaccuracies in area measurements. "Sloppy reporting" could also distort the results of a match.

(Interesting to see so much variation in the reported results from 1827 and 1828, with the matches held only one year apart at the same town.)

Nevertheless, these published results show some remarkable achievements in the realm of hand mowing, during times when scythes were common tools on a farm. In the early 1800s, more than 800 sq ft (75 sq m) could be cut in one minute, and an acre (0.4 ha) could be cut in an hour and a half (assuming that the reports are factual).

The report from the 1826 match gives some notable details. The mowers in this match cut only one swath, at whatever width was optimal for them. The swath widths were around 8 feet for the top contestants. The winner mowed a distance of 107 ft (33 m) in one minute using 48 strokes, which means that his average forward advance was over 26 inches (68 cm) per stroke! The corresponding advances for the other top contestants were similarly over two feet (60 cm) per stroke.

To obtain such a large advance with each stroke would require a long blade (swung a certain way) and a sturdy snath (to withstand the forces from moving that amount of grass with each quick stroke). The American scythes of that era could qualify, with their stout snaths, and blades commonly available around 4 ft (1.2 m) in length.

[New York] Farmer whetting his scythe, by William Sidney Mount, 1848

Competition scythe (Südtiroler Bauernjugend photo, 2010)

The 1856 (Vallejo) match results are outstanding, perhaps unbelievable. The newspaper reports that the winner's name was Ripley --  so believe it or not.

In closing, the following newspaper article from 1900 gives an account of a mowing match that was surely a "tall tale" from a storyteller:

TOLD BY THE OLD CIRCUS MAN.

The Greatest of All Giants Enters In the Farmers' Mowing Matches.

"If anything," said the old circus man, "the great giant used to come out strongest In competitive contests. You see, there he showed for not only what he was, but even greater, by the contrast. Of course, he was always in contrast, but here the contrast was made more striking; but we never failed to enter him in any sort of a competitive contest that we could get him into. Mowing contests, for instance, the giant was very strong in; and we never missed an opportunity to put him into one of these when we could. The old man was always on the outlook, sharp, for this sort of thing, in any form, and if he ran up against a mowing match coming off, say the day the circus struck the town, he'd get the old man into it somehow, sure; not, of course, entering him as a giant or a big man, or anything of that sort, but simply as an unknown. He used to go equipped for this mowing business.

"I suppose that the average scythe blade would be three feet or thereabouts In length, and the snath maybe four feet and a half long. Well, now, the giant's scythe had a blade about ten feet long and a handle about fifteen. Those farmers would get together in a grass lot to see what a man could do, say, in half an hour, everything to count; width of swath, forward cut, cleanness and evenness of the mowing, and so on. I suppose that a man might cut a swath five feet wide, possibly more, but more likely less, and his cut as he stepped forward with even swings of the sharp scythe might be a foot to eighteen inches. The young farmer, and some old ones, too, for that matter, would try, one after another, in this competition, every man swinging along in fine style, till pretty much all of them had had their chance at it and then they'd begin calling for the unknown, and then we'd bring up the giant.

"And he never failed to make a sensation when he appeared; but when he stepped into the field and took off his coat and tossed it into the wagon alongside the lot, and took his scythe out of the wagon, with its ten-foot blade and fifteen-foot snath, and rolled up his sleeves and took the scythe and set to mowing, then there was a sensation. Talk about cutting a wide swath! Why, you ought to see the giant! The farmers cut maybe five feet, the giant fifteen. They'd step forward a. foot or a foot and a half with every sweep, the giant four or five feet. And he was a good mower, too; cutting close and even and clean from side to side. Just think of it, will you!—a man cutting a path fifteen feet wide and going forward five feet at every stroke!

"Pretty soon the giant would stop and pull a scythe-stone out of his bootleg—this stone was three feet long, as long as an ordinary scythe blade —and sharpen his scythe with it; and then he'd drop the stone in his bootleg and go to mowing again. And pretty soon he'd get dry and want some cider; and that's where he used to come in again with business. We had a jug that was as big around as a barrel in the biggest part of it, and that was pretty near as tall, but a regular jug in shape, and we used to get this over the fence to him wherever he was, and he'd lift that up as easy as coud be and turn it up, looking like a balloon up there turned up in that way, and take a big, long drink and then set it down and go to mowing again.

"Well, when the giant had got through mowing there wasn't likely to be much grass left In that lot to mow, and there never was any doubt about who'd won the prize. And he used to cut as wide a swath among the farmers as he did in he grass. There wasn't a farmer for miles around but used to come to the [circus] show and bring his family. Maybe they'd ha' come anyway, but the giant's mowing hit 'em hard; and as for the rest of the community, why, It just simply got 'em all.

"My, my; but It makes me sigh to think of the great old giant."

—N. Y. Sun.

[appearing in the Los Angeles Herald, 1900}

Sources:

Mowing Ahead sign, U.S. Federal Highway Administration, Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices, sign number W21-8, public domain

Finchley match results from The Sporting Magazine, Vol. 6, Rogerson and Tuxford, London, September 1795, page 327

New Boston match results from New England Farmer, Vol. 1, No. 5, Boston, August 31, 1822, page 35

Stratham match results from The American Farmer, Vol. 8, No. 17, Baltimore, July 21, 1826, page 139. Also reported in New England Farmer, Vol. IV, No. 52, Boston, July 21, 1826, page 411

Canandaigua 1827 match results from Niles' Weekly Register, Vol. 32, No. 829, Baltimore, August 4, 1827, page 373

Canandaigua 1828 match results from New England Farmer, Vol. VII, No. 1, Boston, July 25, 1828, page 6

Vallejo match results from The Genesee Farmer, Vol. 17, No. 9, Rochester (NY), September 1856, page 267.  Also reported in Rockland County Journal, Nyack (NY), October 25, 1856, page 2


Farmer whetting his scythe painting from William Sidney Mount book by Frankenstein, Alfred. NY: Abrams, 1975, plate 31 [color] http://www.the-athenaeum.org/art/detail.php?ID=21906 Hay in Art Database ID: 133


Competition scythe photo from Südtiroler Bauernjugend, April 15, 2010


Circus giant story from Los Angeles Herald, No. 141, February 18, 1900, page 17.
Also appears in Rockland County Times, Nanuet (NY), March 10, 1900, page 6

Scythe Fiction (Scy-Fi)

Here's a story that was published 102 years ago:

WHEN JOHN WAS MEDIUM
BY SHELDON C. STODDARD



"In choosing a scythe, John, same as in lots of other things, it's a pretty good plan to be medium".

Sylvester Bristow cast a shrewdly critical glance at the well-made but unusually long scythe that his son had picked from the rackful in the village hardware store. "There are places, John, I'll admit, where the stroke you'd get with that thing would work mighty fine, and then again there are places where it wouldn't. It's a long hard pull across Amasa Barton's Big Twenty -- and it's a long day, John, from sun to sun in July."

"But you know what I'll have to meet, father. I shall need the best there is."

The older man laid a big, wrinkled hand on the square shoulder of his stalwart son. "Even if he is past fifty, Amasa Barton claims to be as good with a scythe as the best in this end of county. And perhaps he is. He's in a hurry to get through haying, too. He'll rush things. He doesn't like his neighbors to be ahead. That's why he's offering pay and a half for hands provided they'll stay with him in the field. But, John," -- his shrewd eyes had been scanning the rack, and his big hand now held a scythe much like the one that his son picked out, but several inches shorter, -- "There you are, now, for a pull on a long, hot day and an all-round pull in all kinds of grass -- medium, John. Your father's been there."

 A smile lighted up the young fellow's lean brown face. Replacing the long scythe in the rack, he carefully balanced in his hands the one his father had selected.

"I guess it'll be this one, father. Amasa Barton may be the best in these parts just now, but if you hadn't the rheumatism, I should be prompt to dispute it. I don't know whether I can 'stay with him' as he calls it, or not, but I'm going to try. If you say this scythe," -- his gaze returned for an instant half-regretfully to the long, rakish one, but he finished decisively, -- "why, this one it is. I hear Ben Langton came on a day or two ago to help Barton."

"Yes, Langton is there. I've heard a number say the young fellow is a clipper with a scythe -- fully up to Amasa. He's a great talker, but unlike most big talkers he can perform. He's stocky and wiry, but I guess you needn't worry."

_____

John Bristow hung his new scythe, ground to a razor edge, in a convenient crotch of the old greening tree in his father's yard, and glancing speculatively at the cloudless evening sky, sauntered slowly to the house. From the porch his sister Kate called to him, "So it's Waterloo for sonny boy tomorrow, is it -- eh, John?"

"Must be, if you say so, Kate."

"And Benny Langton, too, John -- of all others. Whose black eyes will dance if you take second place, little boy?"

"Possibly, now, she means Sue Barton's," said John, tranquilly. He sat down beside her, and after a while he said, "I wish I had more of the 'gift of tongues,' Kate -- could talk, you know, like Langton and such fellows. It's a great gift. Sue likes that chap -- and I don t blame her. He can talk on all occasions -- right word for the right place, and all that, you know. But my tongue, now, when I want it the most, is about as valuable as a piece of beefsteak.

"Yes, I like Sue," he continued. "I may as well own up to you, because I know you know it already. But there it is. She's bright and quick herself, and a bold, bright, quick-witted talkative chap like Langton would naturally take her fancy. Just compare him yourself with a thick tongue like me."

"Startling contrast, that's a fact," commented his sister. "Ben Langton can talk, we all know, in all places and under all conditions. But did it never occur to you, John, that a girl might like to apply some of father's ideas to persons and things?"

"Such as?"

"Medium, John. Think it over now and then."

_____

"This is the field, boys -- the last one, and I'm glad of it. It's the Big Twenty, you know." Amasa Barton cast a proud glance over the broad meadow, its tall grasses swaying lazily in the early morning air. "Grass hasn't hurt any to speak of yet, and won't if we get it before another rain. Is it pay and a half, boys? All right, that suits me exactly. We'll make a mark in the Big Twenty before sundown I guess."

Big and brawny, a trifle stout, perhaps, but hard as nails, the farmer, with his huge arms bare to the elbow, looked the picture of rugged health as he unslung his scythe and stepped promptly to the front.

Langton came next. Both men glanced sharply at John's scythe, and Langton, catching the farmer's eye, grinned slightly, and received a wink by way of response.

John had already noticed that each of his opponents carried a long scythe, formidable in appearance, and almost the exact counterpart of the one that he had so nearly selected shortly before. He cast a critical glance over the big meadow. Although fairly tall, the grass did not seem particularly thick on the ground. He wished most fervently that he had stuck to his own choice of scythes. The outlook seemed decidedly dubious. But swish! -- Barton had struck out. The day's work had begun.

Long before the first long, straight swaths had been laid across Amasa Barton's "Big Twenty," John Bristow fully understood what confronted him. The grass in the Big Twenty proved to be, as he had thought, not especially heavy on the ground. With long, easily carried strokes, the two leaders swept up the long meadow; they swung their scythes in perfect unison and with but little apparent effort, and each, as John well knew, watched out of the corner of his eye to see how the new hand was doing.

By using all his art and covering every possible inch of his shorter blade, John was able to keep stroke, through the first long swath, without loss of place. But well he knew that when the others warmed to their work, the pace would be far swifter -- and for several reasons. Barton was shrewd, and as his neighbors said, a trifle "close." He was not the man to offer "pay and a half" without expecting the better end of the bargain, He knew well his own endurance, his skill and prowess in the field, and he loved to excel. John knew how his boisterous laugh would ring out if a younger man should fall behind. And John particularly wished to stand well in the opinion of the stalwart owner of the Big Twenty.

Langton and John had never been very good friends at best, and just now John knew that nothing would give Langton greater pleasure than to see him discredited with his employer. For an hour or two they mowed steadily. Once or twice, Langton had said something trivial in itself, but containing, as John well knew, a thinly veiled innuendo. He understood that the others felt they had taken his measure. He also understood that sooner or later, one or both of them would attempt that crowning proof of superiority in the hay field -- mowing him "out of his swath."

Along toward noon, when it was John's lead, the two strong mowers behind crowded up nearer than at any time before. Well warmed to their work, they were lengthening the stroke of those long scythes without diminishing the time. Langton, next to the leader, was almost abreast. He was beginning to roll his swath just enough to make it difficult for John to "toe in" properly for the beginning of his stroke.

John knew there was but one thing to do -- he must quicken his stroke. It called upon his reserve of strength and endurance, a reserve that he was carefully hoarding, and that he ought not to call upon until far later in the day, if at all. He was quite conscious of all this, but he was not going out until forced out. With a quick bracing of muscles, he "broke stroke" and forged ahead slowly to his proper lead.

Langton slightly increased his peculiar whistling. Barton glanced up quickly with a look of surprise. Each quickened stroke a trifle, but not much. They knew it was not necessary.

As they "carried swaths" for the next trip, Barton told with gusto the story of one of his former triumphs at a mowing contest. Langton commented freely, and laughed heartily at the right places. But the new hand had nothing to say. His quickened breathing and flushed, perspiring face showed the beginnings of distress and the fact that if he had comments to make, he had little breath with which to make them. At the foot of the field he whetted his scythe with the others; but Langton ostentatiously dressed his scythe with a rattling accompaniment of the stone on the blade -- plainly the mower's challenge. It was his lead, and he stepped promptly to the front with a slight nod -- which was returned -- at Amasa Barton.

John Bristow got through that long swath somehow, he hardly knew how; but he found at the end, almost to his surprise, that he was still in his place. And no sound that he had ever heard seemed sweeter to him than the loud clang of the farmhouse bell, which then boomed out the noon dinner call.

Except for John, it was a jolly group that gathered about the table in the long, cool dining room. Barton himself seemed in an especially genial mood, and Langton quite outdid himself as a talker. Sue Barton, keen-witted as ever, met his raillery with quick repartee. John thought that he had never seen her more charming. And he had had more cause, he thought to himself, to regret his own obstinate, thick-tongued silence.

Amasa Barton dwelt much on the fine progress that they were making in the Big Twenty; and Langton took occasion to say that would make a still better showing before night if they all held out.

With a glance at Sue, he added that he thought they would all hold out, with exception, perhaps, of her father and himself -- a thrust at which Barton and he laughed boisterously. John saw that the girl understood. She laughed, but somehow her laughter did not seem quite genuine.

The first swath or two after the short noon hour were as hard for John Bristow as those of the morning -- a little harder, perhaps, because the pace at the start was swifter. And now again it was his turn to lead. Although he more than half-believed that this swath would be his "Waterloo," he stepped to the front with dogged resolution.

That morning he had noticed out in the big meadow a vague line that seemed to mark a different quality or kind of grass, but he had had time to give it only an occasional glance. Now the mowing had brought them fairly to this line, and he understood what it was -- a wide piece of "new-seeded."

Amasa Barton was a good farmer. The ground had been cleared of stones and well tilled: there had been an excellent "catch." The new growth stood rank and thick, and although not lodged, was still a tremendous burden. Eying the thick growth askance, John struck into it tentatively; to his intense relief, his scythe came through clean and free. Again he reached forward, this time with nearly a full stroke, and again his scythe came through without a "buff."

Close behind, and still with that irritating whistle, came Langton, swinging vigorously. With a full, unhesitating stroke he swung into the thick new-seeded.

John listened attentively and watched from the tail of his eye. Langton's whistling ceased abruptly. and in its place came an explosive ejaculation of disgust. He had found three forceful thrusts necessary to drive that long scythe of his through the thick, tangled growth.

A moment later Barton's scythe struck the line of new-seeded. Although no word came from the sturdy farmer, John's quick ears caught a distinct and most expressive grunt. The young haymaker laughed softly to himself. He said nothing, but carefully using a medium stroke that almost invariably brought his scythe through clear and free, he mowed steadily across the wide field. Then he turned back.

Several rods away, and fairly close together, the two were pulling along. By lifting their left hands to a high, strained position, they had contrived somewhat to shorten stroke. They were coming -- after a fashion.

As he waited for them, John looked carefully round. He smiled contentedly as he noticed that nearly all the rest of the big field was covered by new-seeded grass.

Breathing hard and perspiring freely, the two men finished their swaths. As Barton turned at the end, he cast a sharp glance at John's swath. He said nothing, for there was nothing to say; the swath was plainly the cleanest cut of the three. This time there was no story-telling as they carried swaths.

Twice more they cut through the heavy tangled growth, the new hand easily, the champions of the morning only through grim determination. Again at the foot of the field, they wiped their scythes with the fresh-cut grass, preparatory to whetting them.

Whetstone in hand, John Bristow looked for a moment square into the flushed faces of his two opponents. Then, once more over the Big Twenty there rang out, in no uncertain tones, the peculiar sharp rattling notes of the haymaker's challenge. But this time the new hand played the tune!

Although John was not in the least vindictive, he did believe that in certain times and places people should be given a good strong dose of their own medicine. He thought that one of the times was this July day, and one of the places was Amasa Barton's big meadow.

Whenever either of the men, visibly fretting over his long and now unwieldy scythe, took the lead, he followed closely. He was sure at last that he could easily mow either out of swath; more than once he was on the point of doing it. But he refrained; the extreme course is seldom the best. He smiled as he remembered his father's words with their wide application. But steadily, sharply he crowded the work; for perhaps two hours not a word was spoken by any one of the three.

Finally, it was easily to be seen that both Langton and Barton, seasoned workmen though they were, had nearly reached the limit of their endurance -- and especially Langton. That hitherto complacent young man gazed time after time anxiously across the meadow in search of a possible end to that killing new-seeded. But apparently there was no end. It stretched far back, wide and menacing. To add to his discomfiture, it really seemed as if the victim of the morning were carrying his stroke stronger and growing fresher hour by hour. Finally, at the end of a swath in which he had kept place only by using every last shred of his reserve strength, he stopped. Without looking up, he ran his finger over the edge of his scythe, shook his head, and saying gruffly that he "must go and grind," left the field.

For a moment Amasa Barton eyed his slowly retreating "help." He was himself breathing heavily, and perspiration streamed down his face; but his mouth was set, and there was evidently still some fight left in his sturdy frame. He looked at John silently.

"Fine piece of new-seeded grass this, Mr. Barton," remarked John, cheerfully.

Although the sun beat down relentlessly and there was not a breath of air, the sturdy old veteran of the field held his place twice again across the wide meadow. Then at the end a swath he deliberately shouldered his scythe.

"John," he said, slowly, and in his voice was a note of respect that the young man had never heard before, "my scythe isn't dull, and I'm not going to pretend that it is, but -- I'm going to sit in the shade a while. It's pretty hot."

He started toward the house, but stopped to call back, "You understand, John, that you don't have to mow any more today unless want to?"

"Yes," said John, "I understand. But I guess I'll mow till night, thank you."

Twice on his way to the house, Amasa Barton turned to look back at the solitary mower steadily swinging along in the Big Twenty meadow. He understood perfectly well that more than once that stifling afternoon, the young man's courtesy alone had saved him from the disgrace of losing his swath.

From the wide farmhouse porch his wife and daughter glanced up inquiringly as he went slowly past. He scowled at Sue; then suddenly his face relaxed. Stopping, he jerked his big thumb in the direction of the meadow. "That young fellow allows he'll mow till night," he said in an odd tone expressive of mixed emotions. "He's gritty enough -- but it's frightful hot down there. I guess he'd appreciate a jug of our Cold Spring water, if you have time, Sue." And he stumbled into the house.

_____

"Thirsty, John?" John Bristow looked quickly at the end of his long swath. A look of delight came into his face at sight of the bright-eyed girl in the wide sun-hat. Her eyes were twinkling roguishly, and he wondered whether she understood the situation. In the true back-handed style he tossed up the jug and took a deep, refreshing draft.

"Thank you, Sue; this certainly is kind of you," he said, as he handed back the jug. And then, much to his surprise, he suddenly found himself talking with fluent ease.

Soon he again took up his scythe. The girl, with a half smile on her lips, had been looking out over the long row of swaths. Now she looked at the tall young mower, holding his scythe so easily, and said:

"Benny Langton came up to the house a while ago, John. He said he'd dulled his scythe, but he went home without grinding it. And father's lying on the couch in the sitting room." She laughed softly. "I heard them talking at noon. They said you weren't in their class -- that you couldn't stay, and that they were going to put you under the fence before night. They didn't do it, did they?" She hesitated a moment, and then added shyly, "I'm glad, John." And John was alone with his mowing.

The shadows were falling when, with his scythe over his shoulder, John turned into the home lane. Milking was over; his father was putting up the pasture bars. They understood each other, these two, and they said little as they went together up the green lane.

But soon the father said, and there was a pleased light in his eyes, "I saw someone mowing alone this afternoon in Amasa's Big Twenty. It couldn t have been you, John?"

"I guess it was, father."

"Scythe work pretty well, John?"

"Best in the world, father. The very best in the world."

His father nodded appreciatively; then he added, "Taking things by and large in this old world, it's a pretty good plan, John, to be medium."

Source:

The Youth's Companion, Vol. 86, No. 18, May 2, 1912, pages 230-231
Illustration drawn by Charles Hubbard

More American Scythe Instructions

Man with Scythe, Eastman Johnson, 1868

As a continuation of an earlier post with American Scythe Instructions, here are some additional sources of information, including discussion about young beginners.

The following Instructions to Young Mowers (from 1840) suggest that boys as young as fourteen can start with a "very light" scythe, for one or two hours per day during the haying seasons, over two or three years while they learn and improve.  As stated in previous instructions, the blade should be kept near the ground, and horizontal, throughout the stroke. Also mentioned is how to check for the proper balance:

...Let his snath and scythe be very light, and the scythe of razor-like edge, and so hung that when suspended on the finger by the lower nib, the point and heel of the scythe may be at equal distances from the ground...

 Instruct him to stand nearly erect, the hips being further advanced than the shoulders, and under no circumstances to stoop...

...and when inserting his scythe into the grass, be sure to keep the heel nigh the ground; and when cutting the clips and after, let the point be equally near it...

 ...let the body turn with the scythe as on a pivot the heel of the scythe passing within two or three inches of the advanced foot. This will relieve the arms, and so divide the effort, that he will mow with as little fatigue as he can perform light work, and soon laugh at the "six footer" who stoops to reach his...

...Let the boy also at first be instructed to clip only ten or twelve inches of grass until his erect posture and the horizontal position of his scythe become habitual...

-- quoted from The Farmer's Cabinet, Volume 4, No. 12, 1840, Philadelphia

Here's a different set of instructions which echo the admonition to swing the blade horizontally, level with the ground:

To mow with ease, the scythe should be swung gently, in a horizontal line, or parallel with the surface of the ground, entering the grass nearly on the right of the mower, and leaving it or cutting the last part nearly on the left; so that the standing grass in the swath will be nearly in a semicircular form.

-- quoted from New England Farmer, Vol. 2, No. 14, 1850, Boston

Another article in the New England Farmer states that beginners should not get inferior scythes:

The cast-off scythe should not be put into the hands of the boy who is learning to mow -- he wants in his feebler and and unpracticed hand, a sharper edge than is required by the man. Give him a good and a light tool; or else excuse him from this work.

-- quoted from New England Farmer, June 23, 1831, Boston

In closing, here's an article titled "Hay Time", in which the author recalls the first scythe he owned:

I remember the first scythe I ever had. I was about 16 and as puny a lad as you would wish to see. But I wanted a scythe. So I walked four miles to a store where they had a good assortment of them, and picked out one that I liked. It was but about three feet long, and I got a light snath to go with it, and then went to a grindstone that was turned by water, and got it ground. I then had it nicely hung so that it balanced just right, and got me a new rifle that exactly fitted my hand, and then I was a man, every inch of me.

I had learned how to whet a scythe, and I took especial care to keep it sharp. I soon got a knack of swinging it easily, without a great outlay of strength, for this I had not, so I made up for want of strength by sleight of hand.

-- quoted from New England Farmer, Vol. 8, No. 9, 1856, Boston

Sources:

Painting:  Man with Scythe, by Eastman Johnson, 1868

"Instructions to Young Mowers" from The Farmer's Cabinet, Volume 4, No. 12, 1840, Philadelphia, page 371

"Grass-Scythes" from New England Farmer, Vol. 2, No. 14, 1850, Boston, page 219

"Haymaking" from New England Farmer, June 23, 1831, Boston, page 406

"Hay Time" from New England Farmer, Vol. 8, No. 9, 1856, Boston, page 435

American Scythe Instructions

Below are instructions for using an American scythe, quoted from articles written in the 1800s.  Emphasis has been added (in bold type) to some portions that are similar to present-day instructions for Continental European scythes.  


  How to Mow with an American Scythe

The most important instructions in teaching a beginner to mow grass are:

1.  To stand erect and walk up as near to the standing grass as you can and still have room to cut it all off with the heel of the scythe.

2.  Keep the scythe as flat on the ground as possible from heel to point.

3.  Point in low, and point out low, and let the scythe swing back and forth on a horizontal line, and avoid raising the heel a foot high when pointing in; and be careful to keep the point down close to the ground when pointing out. Avoid a scooping motion, by which the stubble is left high where the scythe sets in and comes out, and low in the middle of the swath.

Where the surface of the ground is even tolerably smooth it will be difficult to determine which way the swaths were made if they have been well mowed.

4.  Every beginner should he taught to make every clip with scythe with a drawing cut, by sliding the edge of the scythe along the grass, instead of handling it in such a way as to cut the grass with a crushing stroke -- straight across the grass. This is one of the most important considerations in handling a scythe of any kind. The scythe should be handled in such a manner as to cut all its length from heel to point. When the clips are made in such a manner as to cut square across the grass much more strength will be required to mow, and the grass will not be cut as well as it will be to cut with a drawing stroke.

The correct motion of a scythe when cutting grass may be illustrated in this way: Take a piece of chalk in one hand and bend forward to the floor and describe a half circle on the floor. Now move forward six inches at a step and make a half circle at every step. These areas will represent the clips made by the scythe in mowing, and the motion of the hand when describing the circles will furnish a correct idea of the proper motion of the scythe.

-- by S. Edwards Todd, from The Country Gentleman, July 7, 1864

With good rigging and a good scythe kept sharp, a gentle swing of the scythe will be sufficient to do as much as is performed by those who get along by main strength instead of wise management. The motion of the scythe on even ground should be horizontal, by pointing in and pointing out as the saying is, cutting the grass square at each side of the swath, Some mowers who labor hard, waste half of their strength, and do bad work, strike it over the tops of the grass, cutting it off lower and lower as the scythe approaches the middle of the swath, then rising as it goes to the other side; so that the middle of the swath for only about one third of the width is sufficiently low...

-- from Yankee Farmer article reprinted in The Farmers' Register, April 1, 1838

How to Sharpen and Hang an American Scythe

A man cannot mow easily nor mow well unless his scythe is in good order and properly hung. Every farmer should have a copy of the Young Farmer's Manual and learn how to grind and whet his scythes correctly.

The first thing in hanging a scythe correctly is to put the nibs or tholes in the right place on the snath. The right hand nib should be fixed at the highest point in the bow of the snath, and the left hand nib should be about one foot from the other. For boys, 10 inches will be about the correct distance.

Now fasten on the scythe [blade], and if the bow of the snath inclines too much forward towards the scythe, it must be adjusted by shaving the snath at the heel until the bow of the snath will stand just right when the scythe and snath are lying on the ground.

The nibs should not stand too far forward, nor too far back or too erect. If the left nib stands too far forward, a mower will not be likely to point out good when mowing, and if it stands too far back he will not point in well. Let the nibs be adjusted until they stand just right.

The edge of the scythe should stand so that a straight line from the snath between the nibs will just touch the cutting edge and the back of the scythe on the wider side. A man will mow much easier when the edge stands on a line with the snath between the nibs, than he will if it hangs either above or below that point. And another thing is if the edge hangs too low, a scythe is very much more liable to be dulled than if it stood higher. If the edge hangs too low when the grass is heavy, much more strength will be required to mow.

-- by S. Edwards Todd, from The Country Gentleman, July 7, 1864

  
Wisdom and Humor

We have seen some very stout hardy men toil and sweat all day and do but a small day's work, while other men of much less strength would cut more grass and yet not exert themselves to fatigue. From this it is evident that some mowers exert twice the strength that others do in performing the same work, and those who use the least strength usually do their work the best, though they may not render the field so smooth by cutting off the tops of knolls, stumps, stones and other impediments that intrude themselves among the thick grass.

There are several reasons why there is so great a difference in expense of labor; there is a difference in sneade and scythes as to their hanging well, and there is so great a difference in scythes [blades] as to their cutting with ease and holding their edge, that some are better worth five dollars than others are worth one cent.  [Adjusted for inflation, $5 in 1838 = $116 today; a penny then = 23 cents today.]

Some men keep their scythes in prime order, and in mowing they lay their strength out to the best advantage; they use a gentle motion that will not fatigue; they are less liable to strike stones, etc. than those who make greater exertions, and when they do strike them less injury is done.

A scythe should hang light and easy, so that in mowing no exertions will be necessary excepting to swing the scythe and hold it steady. We have seen some scythes and sneads, or things that had these names, so rigged that the strength of one man was necessary to hold them in a proper position, while that of another was needed to swing them; of course, by having a good scythe well hung, one half of the labor will be saved.

-- from Yankee Farmer article reprinted in The Farmers' Register, April 1, 1838

Image from: Asher and Adams, Pictural Album of American Industry, Philadelphia, 1876;
appearing at: http://www.ediblegeography.com/in-the-time-of-full-mechanisation/

Sources:

The Country Gentleman, July 7, 1864

Yankee Farmer article reprinted in The Farmers' Register, April 1, 1838
 


Update:  More American Scythe Instructions can be found here.

John Muir's Scythe Clock and Hay Rakes

"...mowing and cradling, the most exhausting of all the farm work..."
                                       - John Muir  (1838-1914)
















John Muir was no fan of the heavy American scythe and cradle, but his many inventions include a pendulum clock shaped like a scythe with "All flesh is grass" written on the snath.


John Muir was eleven when his family emigrated from Scotland to "Amaraka."  They initially were headed for Canada, but they ended up in Wisconsin to establish a farm and grow wheat.  This is a picture of Muir's Lake (Fountain Lake) and Garden Meadow that he sketched from their shanty roof: 

Of his farming life, Muir later wrote:


"In those early days, long before the great labor-saving machines came to our help, almost everything connected with wheat-raising abounded in trying work — cradling in the long, sweaty dog-days, raking and binding, stacking, thrashing — and it often seemed to me that our fierce, over-industrious way of getting the grain from the ground was too closely connected with grave-digging. The staff of life, naturally beautiful, oftentimes suggested the grave-digger's spade. Men and boys, and in those days even women and girls, were cut down while cutting the wheat. The fat folk grew lean and the lean leaner, while the rosy cheeks brought from Scotland and other cool countries across the sea faded to yellow like the wheat. We were all made slaves through the vice of over-industry. 


"The same was in great part true in making hay to keep the cattle and horses through the long winters. We were called in the morning at four o'clock and seldom got to bed before nine, making a broiling, seething day seventeen hours long loaded with heavy work, while I was only a small stunted boy; and a few years later my brothers David and Daniel and my older sisters had to endure about as much as I did. In the harvest dog-days and dog-nights and dog-mornings, when we arose from our clammy beds, our cotton shirts clung to our backs as wet with sweat as the bathing-suits of swimmers, and remained so all the long, sweltering days. In mowing and cradling, the most exhausting of all the farm work, I made matters worse by foolish ambition in keeping ahead of the hired men. Never a warning word was spoken of the dangers of over-work. On the contrary, even when sick we were held to our tasks as long as we could stand. Once in harvest-time I had the mumps and was unable to swallow any food except milk, but this was not allowed to make any difference, while I staggered with weakness and sometimes fell headlong among the sheaves. Only once was I allowed to leave the harvest-field — when I was stricken down with pneumonia. I lay gasping for weeks, but the Scotch are hard to kill and I pulled through. No physician was called, for father was an enthusiast, and always said and believed that God and hard work were by far the best doctors."


John Muir was no fan of the heavy American scythe and cradle, but his many inventions include a hand-carved wooden clock shaped like a scythe, which he displayed at the 1860 Wisconsin State Fair.  A drawing of the Scythe Clock is shown above; the original document and actual components of some of John's inventions, including the Scythe Clock, are kept at the Wisconsin Historical Society Museum and can be viewed here:
http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/museum/artifacts/archives/003314.asp;
http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/whi/fullRecord.asp?id=4949&qstring=http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/whi/results.asp%3Fsearch_type%3Dbasic%26keyword1%3D4949%26Submit%3DSearch


Regarding this Scythe Clock, Muir wrote:


"Inventing and whittling faster than ever, I made another hickory clock, shaped like a scythe to symbolize the scythe of Father Time. The pendulum is a bunch of arrows symbolizing the flight of time. It hangs on a leafless mossy oak snag showing the effect of time, and on the snath is written, "All flesh is grass."


An acquaintance of Muir's named Harvey Reid wrote this description of the clock:


"The other clock, also fashioned with no other tools than a jackknife and a hammer, was a wonderful revelation of rustic ingenuity and poetic instinct. It was wholly emblematic of old Father Time, being a combination of scythes, wheels and arrows. A rough bough of burr oak was set upon a base incrusted with moss. In one of the branches hung a miniature scythe with a regularly fashioned snathe and handles. At the place of union were attached two wooden scythes [blades], swelling slightly from each other, but united at the points. Filling the space between the scythes from heels to points was a succession of wooden cog-wheels and small wooden dials.

"Depending from the scythe points was a wooden pendulum in the shape of an arrow, hanging point down. At its lower end forming the ball of the pendulum, was a cluster of six copper arrows, crossed. These had been hammered out of the large copper cents in use at that day. To the upper end of the arrow pendulum was attached two tin copper scythes (also formed out of coins) which, as the pendulum swung, would move as in mowing, the points of the scythes at each swing catching a cog in the little wheel placed there, thus setting in motion the whole machinery. In addition to the records of the larger clock, this one told also the month and the year, and could be attached to the bed alarm... [...an apparatus attached by a light cord to a delicate set of levers at the foot of his bed. The frame of the bed was hung on trunnions; and, at a desired hour the clock would release a catch and the sleeper be tilted to nearly a standing posture.]"


In 1864, Muir went to Canada for a few years, where he got a job in a woodworking factory in Ontario.  He was contracted to produce 12,000 hay rakes and 30,000 broom handles, as well as to make improvements to the production process. 

From an essay by Bruce Cox:

"...he nearly doubled the production of broom handles...  He placed one handle in position while the other was being turned. It required great activity for him to put away the turned handle and place the new one in position during the turning process. When he could do this there would be eight broom handles turned in a minute."  

"...He designed and started making several automatic machines for the manufacture of different parts of agricultural tools, for example a machine to make teeth for the rakes, and another to install them. The man who designed the alarm clock bed now had a number of ingenious new arrangements of gears, belts and pulleys to play with."

During this time when Muir was making hay rakes and broom handles, he wrote the following in a letter to Jeanne Carr:

"I have been very busy of late making practical machinery. I like my work exceeding well but would prefer inventions which would require some artistic as well as mechanical skill. I invented and put in operation a few days ago an attachment for a self acting lathe which has increased its capacity at least one third, we are now using it to turn broom handles, and as these useful articles may now be made cheaper, and as cleanliness is one of the cardinal virtues, I congratulate myself in having done something like a true philanthropist for the real good of mankind in general. What say you?

"I have also invented a machine for making rake teeth, and another for boring for them, & driving them, and still another for making the bows, still another used in making the handles, still another for bending them, so that rakes may now be made nearly as fast again. Farmers will be able to produce grain at a lower rate, the poor get more bread to eat. Here is more philanthropy - is it not?"

Muir later went on to become a well-known naturalist, writer, and advocate for the preservation of wilderness.  He was a co-founder of the Sierra Club, and his activism helped establish Yosemite and Sequoia National Parks, among other accomplishments.

Although he survived the affliction as a child, Muir died of pneumonia at age 76.  The US Postal Service honored Muir with stamps in 1964 and 1998, and the California Quarter issued by the US Mint in 2005 featured John Muir in Yosemite Valley.

(Sources:    Wisconsin Historical Society, 816 State Street, Madison, WI 53706:  
 Scythe Clock full image at higher resolution:  http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/whi/fullimage.asp?id=4949;
 Wisconsin Historical Museum, 30 N. Carroll St, Madison, WI 53703, http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/museum/visit.asp;
"The Story of My Boyhood and Youth", book by John Muir, with illustrations from sketches by the author, 1913,
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/18359/18359-h/18359-h.htm, http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18359;
"College Friend Describes Muir's Mechanical Marvels", article by Harvey Reid, Outlook, November 28, 1903, v. 75, pp. 763-764,
Reprinted from The John Muir Newsletter , V.4, No.3, Summer 1994:
http://www.sierraclub.org/john_muir_exhibit/frameindex.html?http://www.sierraclub.org/john_muir_exhibit/john_muir_newsletter/mechanical_marvels.html;
"John Muir and His Canadian Friends", essay by Bruce Cox, http://www.johnmuir.org/canada/cox_essay.html;
Letter from John Muir to Jeanne C. Carr, 1866 Jan 21:
http://digitalcollections.pacific.edu/cdm4/document.php?CISOROOT=/muirletters&CISOPTR=17978&REC=2;
Other references:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Muir,
http://www.martinezhistory.org/html/muir_history.HTM,
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:John_Muir_1964_Issue-5c.jpg,
"A passion for nature: the life of John Muir", book by Donald Worster, Oxford University Press, 2008)