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I spent a couple of summers on a blueberry farm. I needed a sort of passport to go there called working papers. An agriculture work permit is different from the papers most youngsters get when they land that first job. The minimum age for farm work is twelve, not sixteen. As long as school is not in session, twelve year olds can work ten hours per day, six days per week.
My day started around 7:30 a.m. when I was picked up at Folwell School in Mt. Holly. A bunch of us piled into a panel van and sat on the floor for the ride to Pemberton. When we arrived at the packing house in Pemberton, we joined the local kids and headed for the field.
We hand picked the ripe berries, leaving the green ones on the bush. There would be a second pick later to get the berries that were slow to ripen. There was a technique to picking. We cupped our hands as if trying to scoop up water. Next, we placed our cupped hands under a cluster of berries. The trick was to tickle the ripe berries with our finder tips, so they dropped into our cupped hands. We tickled clusters of fruit until our hands were full. Then we dropped the berries into a large can that hung around our necks.
When the can was full, we dumped it into a wooden box called a flat. There were twelve pint sized containers in the flat. When all twelve pints were full, we took the flat to the boss who dumped one of the twelve pints on top of the other eleven. We got credit for picking eleven pints of berries. The boss punched out numbered blocks on card board tickets that, like the cans, hung around our necks.
Friday was pay day. We turned in our tickets and were according to how much we picked. I think we got about nine cents per pint. I might pick sixty pints on a good day, or 300 pints per week, so my pay was around $27.00 per week.
Blueberry picking taught me all sorts of things. For example, the skin of a blueberry is black. They look blue because the skin is coated with a powdery substance. After picking all week, my finder tips and nails were blue-black. I soaked my hands in bleach every weekend to remove the staining.
I also learned that blueberries contain maggots. Flies lay eggs in developing berries. When the eggs hatch, the maggots feed on the berries. Farmers spray to eliminate flies and maggots, but some still slip through. Two maggots per 100 berries in an acceptable amount. http://www.cals.ncsu.edu/course/ent425/text18/food.html I didn't eat blueberries for about thirty years after working on the farm. I just couldn't get those maggots out of my head.
I also learned about Saddleback Caterpillars. One day we poked our arms into the bushes and pulled them out in a hurry. Saddlebacks were hiding on the inner branches. They stung us with the barbs located on either end of their bodies. I always inspected the bushes after that and often gave them a good shake.
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| Saddleback Caterpillar |
Picking blueberries was hot, dirty work. After a rain, we had to slog through mud that was almost knee deep. There was a bathroom in the packing house, but we used outhouses when we were in the fields. If we were thirsty, there was a pitcher pump. The pump had to be primed to get it going, so we pumped the handle while pouring water from a jar into the top of the pump. Once we filled our jugs, we had to fill the primer jar and leave it sitting by the pump for the next person.
We were dirty and sunburned, but we managed to enjoy the work. We had contests to see who could pick the fastest. One of the boss's children played the guitar and sang. She serenaded us in the field. As I said, I learned a lot during my summers working on the farm. The most important thing I learned was that I should study hard in school and go to college because I didn't want to pick blueberries for the rest of my life.
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