I remember being the gate opener/closer for a number of years; I was the youngest, so always got bullied into that job. But I was too young to be involved much in threshing. Other than picking up sheaves that strayed away from the stook, I got stuck leveling the grain in the wooden bins; still spitting black from that job. Being the youngest also got me the privilege of being the last one up in the hay mow on 100 degree days. Oldest memory is sitting on old Dolly in her stall while mom milked.