Foxes Hill

Foxes Hill Parte 10

The drawn one of the three mules is passing first and the one of the two a little behind.

Both the carters, almost simultaneously, wave their long whips in the air, making them pop; in this way, they spur the animals to overcome with momentum the slight climb of the path that leads from the farm up to the farmyard.

The coat of the animals, made shiny by sweat, highlights their musculature, especially the posterior one which at this moment tends to spasm in the further effort to overcome the obstacle, while at the same time increases the toll of the bells that adorn their harnesses.

The two men are standing, reins in hand, and in perfect balance; they know how to ride a cart, they are practical.

On the farmyard, they go side by side with the sheaf that has already started, but on the other side: the one opposite to where the trailer is.

I insist with my grandmother: that frantic activity downstairs charges me with curiosity; I want to go out, and this time I succeed.

"Keep away from the mules; please do not go near them!" She recommends me, by letting me go.

I quickly go down the stairs and this time I do not even look at the hypothetical brick-tractor: I step straight; once down, looking at me around, I study where to go to place myself in order to better observe the men and the animals without having to hinder them.

There is a tree on the right of the farm wagons, further ahead and not far away: I decide to go under his shadow; from there, I have a good view and can easily follow all the operations.

The dog is at my side: I do not know where it came from since I hadn't seen it before from the balcony; however, whenever I'm down I find him next to me wagging his tail and following me wherever I go.

To reach the tree I make a wide circle; besides the two from before, I see that there are other men now, who with them are unloading the trailer; I have not been seeing them before, perhaps because when they arrived I was already at the table.

Under the plant there is a large flat stone, and it is, from what I can see, an excellent seat with the trunk of the tree acting as a backrest.

Before sitting down, however, from nearby I detach a thin blade of grass and I put under my teeth and start chewing; the dog, always at my side, crouches not far away.

There are eight workers in all: four on the sheaf, two on each side, who receive and arrange with their bare hands the bundles unloaded by the two on the trailer and by the two carters each remaining on their own chariot.

Working in unison, they arrange them to perfection by fitting them against each other in order to give compactness, solidity and linearity to the sheaf, which in the end it must be high enough, thus avoiding running the risk that it could collapse.

The trailer is practically unloaded, and the two men on the sheaf pass from one side to the other, that of the farm wagons, while the two carters continue at a good pace to unload and the sheaf grows faster on that side.

The mules, still attached to their carts, are calm, and they know they mustn't move; everyone has their snout in a sack containing fodder, which was hung behind his ears, and they are quietly consuming their meal: from the movements of the bag, it is evident that they are chewing; and sometimes they shake their heads, to gather more fodder under the muzzle or to sneeze or to chase away the flies, which with their tails instead drive away from the rear.

Men work hard: it is hard work, and done under the sun it is even harder; you can see that they know how to do this job very well because the sheaf, I see, for as little as I can understand, it grows precisely and perfectly.