V ',; J ..,11.".- .ioV'- H'-".'/■ < S *^,:'.Kh! i »«.0,%: Threshing A very big day on our farm was the one appointed for threshing, a chore that was enacted in November each year. Among other things it meant a day off from school, since even kids could be helpful on that special occasion. The evening before, two of us would be dispatched to Joe Farrell 's to borrow some extra dishes to supplement our basic supply. Joe was always delighted with these visits and home we would come with a basket full of unmatched cups, saucers, plates and cutlery. Anytime after 8 a.m. the crew of neighbors would arrive and begin, without undue haste, to set up for the task at hand. The thresher, at rest on the barn floor, was a hump-backed wooden machine roughly three feet in width by fifteen in length. Despite its complicated appearance, it was quite a surprise to us to learn that it was made by the Hall Manufacturing Co . in Summerside . The power supply for those years was the gasoline stationary engine, a simple black metal hulk of two drive wheels, water reservoir, gas tank and a bare minimum of other gadgets. Once the engine was maneuvered into proper position and securely anchored outside the barn door, the day's action was ready to begin, generally by 9 a.m. A very definite pecking order was evident in the threshing process. The key man of the crew was the feeder, the one who fed the sheaves into the lion's mouth of fast-turning drum with its scary teeth. Usually the owner of the mill was the feeder and for most of the years covered here that man was Jim Connolly .