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MSU |
When I was a grad student at Montana State University and unable to get classes I needed in the summer session, I took a summer job with the school's Plant & Soil Science Department. The department was researching different varieties of winter wheat to see which best tolerated the Montana winters. Small plots of different varieties of wheat were planted and harvested and the kernels from each head of harvested wheat were rolled out by hand. The number of kernels were counted and carefully recorded to get the precise yield down to the kernel.
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Gallatin Valley |
We left Bozeman in the early morning and arrived in the Conrad region in the afternoon and went to work. We had gathered several dozen bundles and I thought it likely we could finish and head back the same day. But, when nearly done, for some reason, the prof decided we would should pack up and come back in the morning to finish and then head back to Bozeman. My argument to finish up was rebuffed.
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Conrad |
I called the MSU department head and explained the situation and that he had a drunken prof in his employ - something he already knew but had neglected to clue me into. He said he would call the hospital and talk to his family. He asked that I retrieve the wheat that we had harvested and drive the 250 miles back to Bozeman. By now it was mid-afternoon. My predicament. Where the H was that wheat plot? I think it must have been divine guidance as I somehow managed to find that plot out in the Montana prairie. I decided harvesting the remaining wheat by myself was hopeless and so I made the executive decision that there were enough bundles for valid results - so I left the small amount of unharvested wheat for the crows. Getting the reaper, a heavy, cumbersome contraption, loaded into the pickup bed was the next challenge. But I finally managed to get the machine and the wheat bundles all loaded and tarped. I then faced another predicament. Where is the road home? i.e. where the H was Interstate #15? I decided to just to just drive south on country roads, look for blue signs and hope for the best. No cell phones or GPS of course.
I arrived back in Bozeman in the deep dark, exhausted, wishing I still had my old undergrad Twinkie harvesting job.
Copyright © 2025 Dave Hoplin