Mid-America Windmill Museum

Cattle and calves, pork, and poultry top our state's commodity list in terms of production value. Over time, farms have evolved to incorporate new ways of managing herds but many still use windmill pumped water for livestock, and our county, and the one next to us, make up the bulk of the state's windmills. 

The most common application is to install a windmill over a drilled or dug well. A typical windmill with 8 diameter wheel can lift water 185 feet and pump about 150 gallons an hour in 15 to 20 mph winds when using a 1 ¾ “pump cylinder.

Earlier this month, we went to the Mid-America Windmill Museum to learn about wind power from its origination to the present day.

The day we arrived the visitor center was staffed by a volunteer who lead us to a seat where we could watch a short film about Windmills. Then, the volunteer gave us a tour of the indoor museum. She answered all our questions and kindly allowed us to use the demonstrations  ( shown above)  of how the windmills work.

We received a headset with an audio tour. We eventually returned outside to walk the path of windmills. Here, we were treated to their creaking and rhythmic sounds, some higher pitched than others.

We were informed, the replica of the Robertson Post Windmill, a single stone wooden grist mill with a 52-foot diameter wind wheel, was a must-see. (The original was erected on the James River near Jamestown, Virginia in the 1620s. )

You may wish to view the more than 50 American, water-pumping windmills. There is no admission to the park but there was a small fee for the inside museum .

Mid-America Windmill Museum

732 S Allen Chapel Road

P.O. Box 5048

Kendallville, IN 46755

The Windmill

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Behold! a giant am I!
    Aloft here in my tower,
    With my granite jaws I devour
The maize, and the wheat, and the rye,
    And grind them into flour.

I look down over the farms;
    In the fields of grain I see
    The harvest that is to be,
And I fling to the air my arms,
    For I know it is all for me.

I hear the sound of flails
    Far off, from the threshing-floors
    In barns, with their open doors,
And the wind, the wind in my sails,
    Louder and louder roars.

I stand here in my place,
    With my foot on the rock below,
    And whichever way it may blow
I meet it face to face,
    As a brave man meets his foe.

And while we wrestle and strive
    My master, the miller, stands
    And feeds me with his hands;
For he knows who makes him thrive,
    Who makes him lord of lands.

On Sundays I take my rest;
    Church-going bells begin
    Their low, melodious din;
I cross my arms on my breast,
    And all is peace within.

This poem is in the public domain.