The Myth of Hedge Balls

The curious fruit of the hedge tree grows in southern Iowa where I was raised. As with the beautiful bittersweet vine, we used to hunt the hedge balls as fall ornaments for the house. As a child, I was intrigued by this curious hard ball that served no apparent purpose, yet grew so prolifically from the trees along the dusty gravel roads and in the forests of southern Iowa. But in time I learned that the lowly hedge ball had a higher purpose than serving as a fall decoration. And it was this higher purpose that gave rise to the myth–The Myth of Hedge Balls. I was once told that, in the old days, farmers fed their hogs these hard, round sticky fruits which oozed a milky-white bitter juice when cut open or bruised; however, for the life of me, I could not imagine that even a hog–which eats anything–would touch these unpalatable balls. I knew a lot of farmers and no one I knew had ever done this. Perhaps this was what we called “an old wives tale.” It seemed that this object had few utilitarian uses. They were hard enough to play baseball with–and would survive a few at bats before disintegrating. Or, I imagined they would fit nicely into the barrel of an 8 inch artillery piece. God only knows the use He intended for these, but they were fun to pick and they made a nice addition to the home, along with the bittersweet vine we treasured and the fall nuts and leaves we gathered on family outings. Not long ago, the hedge balls of my youth resurfaced and brought to mind the legend–the legend of hedge balls and their mystical power to repel a certain insect pest. Driving along beautiful Highway 34 which runs east and west along southern Iowa, I was pleasantly surprised one fall afternoon to see one stretch of highway lined by dozens of hedge trees. Their leaves had turned fall colors and their branches were laden with bright yellow green fruits hanging like Christmas decorations, ready to fall into the ditches and meet an inglorious end. That is, unless some industrious person who realized their true potential bothered to gather them and market them for their mystical powers. The wondrous yellow green balls hung by the hundreds from the trees in the fence line of the farm field adjoining the highway and contrasted beautifully the azure October sky as I drove to my next job. Had I the time and the inclination I would have stopped to fill my trunk with these fall beauties, for I knew their value in ways that many people did not. I was privy to the secret powers that they held. Yes, I knew the value of these yellow green objects which would soon fall needlessly into the ditch to rot or be eaten by whatever brave animal with an iron stomach might want to snarf them down. I knew that, had I a pick up and a little more time, I could sell these objects to some supermarket or hawk them from some dusty roadside stand–the kind they set up in the fall to sell produce, like squash or pumpkins or gourds. Yes, these little round beauties were actually known to fetch 60 cents a piece or more in some places, for it was said of the lowly hedge ball that it possessed some mystical powers. The lowly hedge apple had the mystical power to repel that noisiest of pests–the one that hides in the corner of the room under the cove strip or in the wall or in the corner of the hearth–chirping contentedly, close by, but undetectable...the cricket. Since my youth, I had heard from my mom, my aunts, and others of their generation the legend of the hedge ball and its magical power to evict crickets by its mere presence in the home. No one knew why of course; however, generations of believers had passed on the legend. And it had been repeated for years–put a hedge ball or two in the house and the crickets will stay away. Yes, for reasons unknown to me, it was said to work every time. No one questioned the legend; after all, if your mom or your aunt told you, it must be true. Who started the legend of the hedge ball and its repellant powers or when it was started is shrouded in the mists of history. What proof they had for the proposition is likewise unknown to me. Just how did this work anyway? I wondered. If you put one in the basement does it drive all crickets away–even the ones on the first floor? If you place one on the first floor will those in the basement leave the house as well? Just how many does it take to clear a house 1400 square feet on the main floor? Was there a magical “hedge ball per square foot ratio” which, if followed, would rid the house of crickets? Just what is the effective range of these cricket-repellant spheres anyway? How do they know there is a hedge ball in your house anyway? And, what happens if an unlucky cricket jumps through an open door and is trapped inside a house with a hedge ball or two? Does he die? Or does he remain in the house desperately seeking a way to get out? Despite these and other imponderables I accepted the truth of the legend. After all, how could all these prior generations be wrong? How could the produce manager at the local supermarket be wrong, when the sign attached to the 4 foot by 4 foot cardboard box holding hundreds of these hedge balls reads:

REPELS CRICKETS–60 CENTS EACH (NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION)?

Would your produce manager lie about such a thing? No, the legend was true; or, rather, as they say: “if it ain’t true it oughta be.” But sometimes legends are debunked. I remember well the day that I discovered the myth of hedge balls. It was not as traumatic as learning there was no Santa Claus or that there was no Easter Bunny, but nearly so. One fateful day I was cleaning my mother’s house and started to sweep her basement stairway. Following years of tradition and believing in the legendary power of the hedge balls, Mom had placed three hedge balls strategically on her basement stairway in order to prevent the inevitable cricket horde that would invade the basement without such protection. I began to sweep the stairs one at a time. When I came to the steps on which the hedge balls had been placed I bent over, picked up the hedge ball and moved it aside so I could reach the corner of the steps with the broom. I leaned over to pick up the first hedge ball. To my shock, I found a cricket happily ensconced under the first legendary cricket repeller. Could it be that all those years we had been misled? Could the legends passed down from our grandparents be wrong? Alas, it seemed true. I called out to my mother and we shared a laugh at the fact that the first hedge ball had apparently lost its mystical powers. This cricket was not only not repulsed by the hedge ball...he was using it as a shelter. I swept up the cricket and threw him outdoors. I could not bear the thought of disturbing him from his cozy home only to squash him. I proceeded down the stairway with my broom. I lifted up the second hedge ball. Thereunder I found the first cricket’s brother. I yelled at Mom once more, telling her that her magical hedge balls were not working. Perhaps she got a bad batch, or this was just a coincidence. That two hedge balls in a row had lost their mystical powers seemed unlikely. I threw out the second cricket as well. Chalking up this episode to coincidence, I swept a couple more stairs ad came to the last hedge ball. I bent over and moved that one as well–only to find their cousin underneath the third one. That three hedge balls in a row would lose their cricket fighting capabilities seemed a statistical impossibility. I concluded that the legend of hedge balls was, in fact, a myth. This news will, of course, be unwelcome to many produce managers and to the International Hedge Ball Growers Association, as well as many people who hoped in the legend and bought hedge apples each year for their houses. But the sad truth remains: hedge balls do not repel crickets. In fact, the crickets rather enjoy them. They seek comfort under hedge balls, and the ones I met were perfectly content under their own little cricket shelters. After all, the only place we found any crickets in Mom’s house was underneath the hedge balls. Legends die hard, and this one is no different. But I have learned a valuable lesson from this experience. This year I am placing several hedge balls outside my house--to draw these little critters out. After all, even crickets need homes.