Osage Orange Lumber Projects and Other Hedge Stories

Readers share hedge anecdotes and shed some light on a vintage tractor ad from our May issue.

By Farm Collector Readers
Updated on September 15, 2022
article image
by AdobeStock/Gerry

Dad thought he was boss, but hedge posts ruled the farm

In 1956, we moved from Peoria to a place north of Edelstein, Illinois. Dad decided he had had enough of the oppressive city life.

Every winter for the first couple of years, we got snowed in for several days at a time as we were the only place on this 1-mile stretch of gravel/mud road. One winter in about 1960, we were snowed in for several days. Dad decided he was going to travel across fields to Lawn Ridge, a small, unincorporated town northwest of us.

Lawn Ridge was located at the intersection of (then) State Route 88 (now 40) and Blueridge Road. In that town was a tavern. The tavern not only sold the regular tavern articles, but also essentials like bread and milk. Dad said he needed to go there for bread and milk. Mom always said he needed cigarettes more than bread and milk.

The trip across country would be about 1-1/2 miles through snow and drifts. So, Dad decided he would fire up the 1935 Farmall F-30, find a spot in our old west hedge row to go through and head to Lawn Ridge. It was a good plan, but anyone familiar with the F-30 knew it had what some folks call a “wide stance” on the rear axle.

Dad apparently underestimated the width of the rear axle and promptly wedged the F-30 between two hedge trees. Knowing my dad, he probably thought he could just bull his way through but that just made the F-30 more trapped. We couldn’t afford a chainsaw back then, so he walked back to the house. The next day, the township finally cleared the road and the neighbor with a World War II-vintage Jeep stopped in.

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