8 It Happened in Iona

inside the dump cart. For many seasons my task was driving the horse while Dad operated the sprayer, with frequent trips back to the pump or stream for water being a part of the routine.

One of the toughest jobs on the farm was surely that of harvesting the potatoes. Yet, this chore was sweetened some- what by our being exempt from school during these weeks. Having begun classes in mid-August, country kids had the luxury of a fall vacation for potato digging. City youth, on the other hand, began school only after Labor Day and continued right through the autumn. During the years covered by these pages, the O’Shea family habitually grew four acres of potatoes annually. The farm was fourteen chains in width and usually the potato rows were of that length. It seemed to take forever to work one’s way to the end of a drill. The only exception to these long rows was when the spuds were planted in the “little field” by the woods or in fields shortened by the curvature of the railroad.

For the task at hand we possessed a “beater” digger, manu- factured by the Bruce Stewart Co. in Charlottetown. Pulled heavily by two horses, its uniqueness came from a spoke wheel at the rear which turned rapidly and quite simply beat the potatoes out of the drill with great force. To prevent the spuds from landing on the next farm, a jute or canvas shield hung down to ground level a few feet from and to the right of the spoke wheel. Dad hated this digger with a vengeance and quite frequently the Bruce Stewart Co. and indeed much of Charlotte- town became targets for his outrage. The machine seemed to be forever clogging up and then had to be tossed on its side to get it unclogged again. However, despite its drawbacks, this digger rendered faithful service each year with no noticeable main- tenance required. Its unique ringing sound as it made its way through the field is easily remembered.

Potatoes were picked sometimes in buckets, but most often in half-bushel wicker baskets and carried to a nearby dump cart which normally would hold twenty bushels. When that was full a seasoned driver slowly departed to the house where the load was dumped down one of several small cellar hatches. In mid- moming and mid-afternoon the driver brought back some treats for the workers, usually tea, cookies and apples When the last drill was dug, a flat harrow was dragged over the entire field to expose any stray tubers that might have remained covered after the digging process. It was truly a case of “gathering up the fragments lest they be lost.”