I'd heard that operating a tractor is addictive. Rachael’s mother
actually comes up from the city several times a year just to drive the tractor. Sometimes she harrows fields, other times she mows. She’ll sit out there for hours with a big smile on her face going back and forth, back and forth.

Although I consider this lady sane, I figured the tractor thing was a quirk in her personality. I couldn’t imagine any normal person enjoying hours on a tractor. Then, one afternoon, I climbed up into the seat and started mowing the orchard. Five minutes passed. Yep, this is boring. Ten minutes passed and I was mesmerized. I’d joined the ranks and found being on the tractor addictive.

Which led to my working for Farm Landscaping. Frank had seen me mowing our large field by Concession 8 and asked, “Would you like a part time job?”
“Doing what?”
“Mowing.”
I signed on.

My main assignment was to mow an eighteen-acre field, paying strict attention to the lines. (Lines means: mow straight. Don’t weave, wobble or go crooked). Up to that point in my brief mowing career I figured mowing a paddock was mowing a paddock. How could anyone do it wrong? But, in spite of my questioning nature, I did as Frank said and it turned out that my lines are straight and I’m an excellent mower. I have however, made some tight turns that resulted in a wheel or two coming off the mower. After dragging the machine for at least one hundred yards I’d notice that “something” felt wrong. Each time I was rescued by the landscaping crew. We’d find the guilty wheel and put it back on.

That summer we had lots of rain and the grass grew and grew. I mowed that field eight times. During the middle of the summer I became aware of a companion. At first I just felt a presence, but saw nothing. Each mowing took over nine hours and after a period of time I caught a glimpse of wings as I turned the machine. The glimpse developed into a brief look at a large hawk. Hmmm.

This hawk was flying, swooping and landing in the grass I’d just cut. He followed me row after row. Time passed and I kept my lines straight. The hawk and I moving as one. That’s when I got this strange “wave.” I can’t explain it, but it seemed like the hawk was using telepathy to let me know that he liked the tractor. This feeling did not go away so I finally decided to dedicate some gray matter to finding out what was going on. And I did. That hawk most certainly liked the tractor. Each time I approached a strip of grass, mice would scurry to
safety. Invariably they darted to the freshly mown part. Yes, the machine was providing the bird with lots of mice and these mice were the perfect snack for the hawk's hungry brood.

For a while I was mowing the field every seven to ten days. I looked forward to my sessions with the hawk. But our time together was brief. As summer matured the hawk disappeared. I figured the babes had left the nest and the tractor was no longer needed.