Grasshoppers

Grasshoppers, grasshoppers, a flyin' in the air.

Grasshoppers, grasshoppers, are crawling in my hair.



Grasshoppers, grasshoppers, stickin' to  my clothes.

Grasshoppers, grasshoppers, a clingin' to my nose.



Grasshoppers, grasshoppers,..... get me out of here!

Grasshoppers, grasshoppers, not til the job's done, I fear.


GRASSHOPPERS,  GRASSHOPPERS

 in the air,

GRASSHOPPERS,  GRASSHOPPERS

 in my hair,

GRASSHOPPERS,  GRASSHOPPERS

 in my cloths, and

GRASSHOPPERS, GRASSHOPPERS

 on my nose.

GRASSHOPPERS, GRASSHOPPERS,   EVERYWHERE!

GET ME OUTA, OUTA, OUTA,  HERE!




If  Willy Nelson was a rapper I would give him the permission to record this and give the proceeds to the society against grasshoppers .......if there is one...........if not lets' make one!

 The year of the grasshopper was a disaster.  Every where you looked the hoppers were munching away at the new growth on every one's farm.  You would walk and the ground would move under your feet in tiny waves of brown, spotted, clicking, hoppers.  We had spent the long, hot, summer days on the ditch bank and in the fields with shovel in hand smashing the ugly, jumping insects until our shovels were covered in a thick, blackish-brown, tar-like slime.  The grasshoppers were different than the hordes of crickets we sometimes get.  The hugh crickets eat and migrate on, where-as the grasshoppers eat, lay their eggs in the farm dirt, eat until they die and the cycle starts over.

It was in the early seventies.  My younger sister and I were cutting the hay fields.  We used an old New Holland, 8 foot head, open (no cab or roof) swather.  I loved driving that little machine.  It had  two stick handles  to drive it.  Push both handles to engage it to go forward , pull back to stop while using the  brake pedal.    If you wanted to turn left, you would apply the  brake,  pull the left stick back while pushing the right stick forward.  Vice-versa for a right hand turn.  Man, that swather could turn on a dime!  Ya, it would spin in a circle too!-----DON'T TELL MY DAD

Cutting a 100 acre patch of hay would take 3 to 5 sun up to sun down days.  We had several hundred acres to lay down that year. As we  swathed through the hay, the grasshoppers would fly up from the ground just high enough to land directly on us as we drove down through the fields.  Grasshoppers have barbs on their feet that attach and hold fast.   UGH..............they would land on us and begin crawling on our skin or in our hair.  The most disturbing were the ones landing on our faces and crawling in our ears.  Trudy and I would take turns, each of us cutting as long as we could stand the bugs.  Finally after days and days the cutting was done.   BUT........along comes Uncle Leo who had a section he needed cut and would the "girls" be willing to cut it.  (Uncle Leo had about 5 boys who could of cut his field, but for some reason us girls got to do it.)  The grasshoppers were extremely thick at his field.  They flew up in a thick cloud and landed all over us.  It was awful!  To this day I loath, no that is not a strong enough word, I HATE grasshoppers.  ( I obviously have a liking for crickets however)  In fact I dislike  grasshoppers so much they have a bounty on their heads at the farm. " Spare no mercy!" I inform the kids.  I still shutter today when I hear the click-a-ty-clack of a flying grasshopper............
                                    and I grab my shovel and start swinging!