- Location
- Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk
Well that’s summer gone then. The minute the baler had finished its work, we’d pressed right on with other weather dependant tasks. Most of the remaining poop is spread, and several maintenance jobs attended to. The last gasp was a concrete pad to cast, with readymix due for delivery last Monday. Seeing the forecast, and knowing the site would soon become porridge in the impending monsoon, I managed to get things re-arranged –thanks Pete- for first thing Saturday morning. And I’m jolly glad that we did, as the rivers are now up over the banks, and the leaves are fast letting go, and blowing about the yard.
I was a bit perplexed when some twerp came on the radio, with their ‘thought for the day’ or whatever it was. I wasn’t paying attention, as he waffled on about how we regarded harvest festivals, and whether it should about female fertility or somesuch, and a load of other nonsense besides. I think he’d rather lost sight of the fact that we celebrate our completed harvest at this end of the year, in whatever religion or flavour we might choose, because we’re mighty glad the crops are in, and that man and beast won’t starve this winter.
Anyway, without dropping the pace, we’re straight into prepping the ewes for tupping. There’s trace element boluses to put in them, fluke jabs to annoy them with, and it’ll soon be bath time. I’ve got tups to sell, and a couple to source for some fresh blood. By degrees, cattle are being led back to civilisation, and are starting to suggest that I might be thinking of giving them some grub, soon, maybe. The Galloway cows out over know this isn’t a realistic expectation yet, but, well there’s no harm in asking!
Onwards then. While there’s the inevitable bloodletting over England’s early exit from the rugby, I’ve a different thought for you. Fair enough, let’s be glum the team crashed out early…it’s a pity. But do stop wailing about who should take the blame. Our team acquitted themselves perfectly well and gave it their best shot…. but other teams were playing better. And don’t bother me with their having been in a tough group. They were, but to win the tournament, you need to be playing well enough to best any of the other teams, and an easier group would only have prolonged matters.
More to the point, look at how the team maintained dignity and restraint, in the face of what must have been an embarrassing defeat. I find that highly laudable, especially compared to other sports.
It’s a refreshing paradox, that the participants of such a brutally physical sport can preserve a culture of such honourable behaviour- especially in their respect for officials on the pitch. And when one of them gets overly battered, there’s none of the histrionics seen elsewhere.
Armchair experts and pundits can say whatever they like from the luxury of somewhere warm and comfortable. I couldn’t do any better, and wouldn’t criticise.
As you know, I don’t have much to do with sports of any kind as a rule, getting more than enough exercise, and enough of a pummelling, in my day job to wish to seek out extra for fun. But I do respect those that can give it such determination. Unusually I’ve watched a few games on the box with John, who played a bit of rugby at school* and can explain what’s going on to his confused old Dad. And from what I’ve seen, the Kiwis are playing a very different and better organised game. They’re the ones to watch.
*I’m gently trying to dissuade John from getting involved again. The injuries will pile up enough wrestling bullocks for a living.
And lastly, it was with very great sadness that I’ve heard of the passing of Joe Henson MBE, of the Rare Breed Survival Trust fame. He was a founding light in the idea of preserving ‘out of fashion’ farm animal genetics. He saw the value in breeds which had evolved over hundreds of years, across our diverse farmed landscape, each with its own intrinsic values. With modern farming techniques, communications and transport, these were being lost in the face of an increasingly homogenised and specialised industry. And whether you place the higher value on the heritage angle of what he championed, or recognise that none of us can foresee what we might one day need again, his efforts have been of immense significance.
On a personal note, having been in occasional correspondence with him, I’ve got to say that Joe was also one of the most consummate gentlemen I’ve had the privilege to encounter. The world is surely poorer for his passing.
About the author
Originally published in The Western Morning News, these articles are reproduced for the enjoyment of TFF members World-wide by kind permission of the author Anton Coaker and the WMN
Anton Coaker is a fifth generation farmer keeping suckler cows and flocks of hill sheep high on the Forest of Dartmoor and running a hardwood and mobile sawmill.
A prodigious writer and regular correspondent for The Western Morning News, NFU and The Farming Forum, Anton’s second book “The Complete Bullocks” is available from www.anton-coaker.co.uk
I was a bit perplexed when some twerp came on the radio, with their ‘thought for the day’ or whatever it was. I wasn’t paying attention, as he waffled on about how we regarded harvest festivals, and whether it should about female fertility or somesuch, and a load of other nonsense besides. I think he’d rather lost sight of the fact that we celebrate our completed harvest at this end of the year, in whatever religion or flavour we might choose, because we’re mighty glad the crops are in, and that man and beast won’t starve this winter.
Anyway, without dropping the pace, we’re straight into prepping the ewes for tupping. There’s trace element boluses to put in them, fluke jabs to annoy them with, and it’ll soon be bath time. I’ve got tups to sell, and a couple to source for some fresh blood. By degrees, cattle are being led back to civilisation, and are starting to suggest that I might be thinking of giving them some grub, soon, maybe. The Galloway cows out over know this isn’t a realistic expectation yet, but, well there’s no harm in asking!
Onwards then. While there’s the inevitable bloodletting over England’s early exit from the rugby, I’ve a different thought for you. Fair enough, let’s be glum the team crashed out early…it’s a pity. But do stop wailing about who should take the blame. Our team acquitted themselves perfectly well and gave it their best shot…. but other teams were playing better. And don’t bother me with their having been in a tough group. They were, but to win the tournament, you need to be playing well enough to best any of the other teams, and an easier group would only have prolonged matters.
More to the point, look at how the team maintained dignity and restraint, in the face of what must have been an embarrassing defeat. I find that highly laudable, especially compared to other sports.
It’s a refreshing paradox, that the participants of such a brutally physical sport can preserve a culture of such honourable behaviour- especially in their respect for officials on the pitch. And when one of them gets overly battered, there’s none of the histrionics seen elsewhere.
Armchair experts and pundits can say whatever they like from the luxury of somewhere warm and comfortable. I couldn’t do any better, and wouldn’t criticise.
As you know, I don’t have much to do with sports of any kind as a rule, getting more than enough exercise, and enough of a pummelling, in my day job to wish to seek out extra for fun. But I do respect those that can give it such determination. Unusually I’ve watched a few games on the box with John, who played a bit of rugby at school* and can explain what’s going on to his confused old Dad. And from what I’ve seen, the Kiwis are playing a very different and better organised game. They’re the ones to watch.
*I’m gently trying to dissuade John from getting involved again. The injuries will pile up enough wrestling bullocks for a living.
And lastly, it was with very great sadness that I’ve heard of the passing of Joe Henson MBE, of the Rare Breed Survival Trust fame. He was a founding light in the idea of preserving ‘out of fashion’ farm animal genetics. He saw the value in breeds which had evolved over hundreds of years, across our diverse farmed landscape, each with its own intrinsic values. With modern farming techniques, communications and transport, these were being lost in the face of an increasingly homogenised and specialised industry. And whether you place the higher value on the heritage angle of what he championed, or recognise that none of us can foresee what we might one day need again, his efforts have been of immense significance.
On a personal note, having been in occasional correspondence with him, I’ve got to say that Joe was also one of the most consummate gentlemen I’ve had the privilege to encounter. The world is surely poorer for his passing.
About the author
Originally published in The Western Morning News, these articles are reproduced for the enjoyment of TFF members World-wide by kind permission of the author Anton Coaker and the WMN
Anton Coaker is a fifth generation farmer keeping suckler cows and flocks of hill sheep high on the Forest of Dartmoor and running a hardwood and mobile sawmill.
A prodigious writer and regular correspondent for The Western Morning News, NFU and The Farming Forum, Anton’s second book “The Complete Bullocks” is available from www.anton-coaker.co.uk
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