Anyone who grew up in Madras hates picking rocks and the job almost always falls to the kids. Madras grows rocks, you pick them up and soon there they are laying on the ground just waiting for some farm machinery to come and grab them and break and cost a fortune.
My grandfather from Kansas always wanted a rock house. He moved to Madras and was happy because he could collect rocks and have that rock house. Well by the time he picked rocks awhile he did not want a rock house, he did not even think they were pretty anymore.
One of my friends that has an agate ranch now in the area said he hated picking rocks so much he got smart and let the city slickers pay him to pick rocks…Now that is using your brain.
You would have a tractor and trailer and you would walk alongside the trailer and throw the rocks on it. When it got full you would go throw the rocks off in the bad-stripe.
It got better when we got a bobcat with a bucket because you could walk alongside the bobcat and throw the rocks in the bucket and when the bucket got full you could rest while the driver went and unloaded the bucket. Everyone got a turn at being the driver unless grandpa was around. My dad had his hands cut off, they sewed them back on but they did not work well and he could not pick rocks but he was an expert at driving bobcat so that became his job. He called the bobcat “Bobby” and said it was his right hand. He used it for everything and was amazing with it.
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