Below the plow was a picture of a horse drawn binder, a machine but still walk along with the animal in the hot sun. Before that was a scythe, operated by hand, the wife and family follow along behind stacking the grain or hay into sheaves or loading on a sledge.

Machinery of the past quite often was very simple, a long sharp corn knife, a sharp blade on a curved handle with two grips, a scythe, a sledge, two logs planked with a platform to be drug.

Looking at these old ways to work the land, I marvel at the determination of the early settlers of the land. The equipment they had to work with is what they could haul in their wagon. Not too many implement shops 100 plus years ago. Mercantile stores would spring up and teamsters would bring in material. Sometimes it had to be fabricated locally, the black smith or settler.

With time though something as modern as a horse drawn binder would be made and production would jump. More acres to work now. It was still out in the sun walking with the animals. Grain was threshed and winnowed by hand; corn went through a hand-operated grist mill to make corn meal.

Watching people demonstrate the old ways of processing food is fascinating and for a short period demonstration looks pretty easy. Sit down and try to turn a butter churn, go out in the field and swing a scythe.

The demonstrators make it look so easy until it’s understood this was a day long process andthat day was usually ten hours or more, sun up till it sets. Even with machinery improvements, it was long days and hard work that involved all the family.

Subsistence farming kept many of the pioneers going when times were rough. They bought very few things; most transactions were a barter style. Homemade breads, candies, goodies and on goes.

A small Eastern Colorado town set aside a lot on the edge of their town to show the antique farm implements, a monument to endurance and determination. A rather unique way to showcase. Most old equipment is set out in the back field, some place to rust into oblivion. All types of machinery sits rusting along wind breaks and fences out back.

These rusting hulks carry a lot of sweat and tears. They are but an icon to man’s struggle to work with nature.

When I walk through the small town museums, I pause and think twice now before I go on, for my grandparents were part of this group of people that came to the great American desert to settle.