Welcome to Charlie Stratton’s farm.
Nestled along an inconspicuous hillside northwest of Iola, Stratton’s spread looks like countless others dotting the Allen County landscape.
A modest single-story house has a nearby garage and work area, garden, a small hog pen and the vast acreage of a neighbor’s recently harvested bean field.
What makes it different is Stratton’s front-yard contraption.
“I tell people it’s a flagpole that just got out of hand,” Stratton laughed.
In reality, the contraption is a mammoth trebuchet catapult, capable of launching mid-size objects more than 700 feet.
In accord with the season, pumpkins and melons are the preferred object of choice.
Stratton and wife Alydia hosted scores of friends and relatives Saturday for their annual pumpkin launch.
About once an hour Stratton let loose the ammunition. The catapult uses an electric winch to “cock” the trigger by pulling the 35-foot aluminum pole to the ground, hoisting more than 2,200 pounds of weight at the opposite end of the fulcrum.
As the weights are released, the pole launches skyward, pulling back a sling. When the pole is perpendicular, the sling releases its 10-pound load in a skyward arc. The distance is so great, viewers can see the pumpkin splatter a split second before its impact is heard.
After each launch an eager team of youngsters raced to the landing site to retrieve the splattered remnants.
LAUNCHING pumpkins has become a rite of fall for the Strattons.
The impetus for the contraption came from a library book Alydia read about 10 years ago.
“It didn’t tell much about how to build catapults, but it did tell about the kind of people who did it,” Charlie recalled. “Once I read about it, there was no stopping it.”
The Strattons took a vacation to Bridgeville, Del., where they attended its annual Punkin Chunkin, perhaps the largest such competition in the world.
It was there Charlie laid eyes on the Yankee Siege, a catapult capable of hurling 300-pound pumpkins.
