The Mast-Head: An Immemorial Implement

Before the wineberry vines behind the barn leafed out this spring and became difficult to remove, I thought I might take a shot at clearing them out. The side yard once was useful for storing boats and kids fooling around, but it had become thick with spiny growth in recent years. 

Like many people with tall weeds to clear, my first thought was to get my hands on a brush mower and have at it. Then on Sunday, while I was continuing to set my woodshop to rights, I noticed a rusted scythe resting atop a pile of life jackets and a golf cart seat. Its shaft, about five feet long and snakelike, looked like hickory; two handles jutted at right angles, about a chest width apart.

Though the blade edge was dull and its surface brown as a muddy brook, there was nearly no resistance as I took a first swing into the briar patch. Not that it was easy work, mind you. The twisting motion, counterclockwise, came as if by nature, and there was no missing the fact that the scythe would serve well. 

I hacked in quarter-arcs for a while, then went back to what I had been doing inside, with a mind to sharpen the blade when I got a chance. By then, I had cleared about a third of the yard, stopped only once by a hidden section of discarded wire fencing.

Since the early days of human metalworking, scythes have no doubt been part of farming. Before that time, smaller stone-edged reapers of wood or bone did the work, albeit about half as effectively. The use of scythes made grain harvesting efficient and led to fast changes in agriculture.

I am of two minds about sharpening the antique scythe from the barn, however, and going after the rest of the vines. A new, gleaming edge would seem out of place. I might break the shaft. But on the other hand, it was made for this and calls out to be put to purpose.

I find it remarkable that this kind of implement, unchanged for 2,500 years except in the smallest detail, could perform a task as well as if not better than our modern conveniences. I once tried chopping at high weeds with one of those one-handed swinging things with serrated blades — a stroke or two, and I gave up. Borrowing or renting a gas-powered mower seems too much. A scythe made sharp by a few licks with a stone may be the best of all.