- Location
- Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk
Let me tell you a tale about a strange rural community.
There was this group of sheep farms lying between a big lake and a high mountain range. The terrain and climate was reasonably kind, and farming was fairly easy. This community of shepherds kept a lot of sheep, intensively using the available space. It hadn’t always run smooth though, for in centuries past, some had been over ambitious. Some, regrettably, had tried to steal their neighbours land. During these struggles, many neglected and hungry sheep strayed, which complicated relations further. The cycle of this behaviour had steadily escalated, until the turmoil had dragged the whole community into bitter feuds, in which much blood was spilled.
After a couple of particularly costly fallouts, in which some families received help from distant cousins outside the area, the whole group had an epiphany. They agreed a way to live in peace with each other, helping weaker farmers tend their flocks. The debts they owed from the feuding days took decades to repay, further reminding them not to fall into disputes again. But once their internal feuds were sorted out, each man’s boundaries were respected, and he was helped to farm his sheep responsibly.
And the community prospered. Pastures were weed free and in good heart, and both shepherds and sheep were healthy and contented. So much so in fact that, incredibly, boundary fences were allowed to fall into disrepair. The well fed sheep seldom strayed, and when they did, it was seen as a good thing….sharing between friends. The fame of the communities harmony spread far and wide, and was envied everywhere.
But then a fresh problem arose. Across the lake and beyond the mountains lay communities where the shepherds couldn’t learn how to tend their sheep. Their terrain and climate wasn’t as easy. Flocks weren’t content, often hungry, and given to straying. The historic feuds which the first community had overcome carried on unabated. Arguments blossomed about which breed of sheep was best, what commands the dogs should be trained to, or even the proper way to hold the shepherds crook. In fact, these arguments were usually an excuse to try and seize one another’s fields.
For the former settled community, looking across the lake and over the mountains, the scenes were all the more terrible, knowing they’d left such behaviour behind. They tried, over many years, to send fodder and good advice, but few of the distant communities could break the cycle, and those who did often found themselves inundated with hungry strays.
As the years went on, while the enlightened settled community had the answers to their own problems, it seemed they were forgetting what such troubles were like. Meanwhile, over where the terrain was tough, and where arguments about shepherding techniques reigned unceasingly, the sheep could smell the fertile quiet pastures across the lake and the mountains. Even the quantity of good fodder being given as goodwill gifts left a trail these hungry ewes could detect.
So, as hungry sheep are wont, they tried to sneak over the mountains and to swim across the lake, to get to the fresh green pastures they could sense. Many successfully found their way to the hospitable community, who at first welcomed them with open arms, allowing them to join the existing healthy flocks. Some settled into new pastures very well, becoming integral parts of these successful flocks.
Sadly, some brought with them shepherds with their own old prejudices and arguments, and some of these hated the successful farmers who lived in such peace, holding their crooks in the ‘wrong’ way. There were difficulties. And all the while, more and more sheep tried to get over the mountains and across the lake, the draw of the lush pastures irresistible. Clearly, the peaceful pastoral community couldn’t indefinitely absorb them without becoming overgrazed. But the news had spread, and they kept coming.
Up in the furthest backwoods of this community, on the poorest ground, were some shepherds that hadn’t lost sight of what can go wrong. They understood all too well how hungry sheep stray, and how squabbling shepherds come to strife. Some of them chittered that allowing this situation to continue would inevitably erode the contented serenity their community had achieved, and that the queue of sheep trying to break in would be effectively endless. But they were shouted down, decried as wicked and old fashioned. Many others couldn’t see the reality of what was happening, or that it would have no end. Perhaps to somehow absolve their conscience they blindly asserted that every stray should be welcomed regardless, declaring that to suggest otherwise was callous.
As the debate raged on, ever more strays arrived.
I haven’t heard how this community fared in the end, but it does sound familiar.
Wriiten for and reproduced by kind permission of NFU
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 fromwww.anton-coaker.co.uk
There was this group of sheep farms lying between a big lake and a high mountain range. The terrain and climate was reasonably kind, and farming was fairly easy. This community of shepherds kept a lot of sheep, intensively using the available space. It hadn’t always run smooth though, for in centuries past, some had been over ambitious. Some, regrettably, had tried to steal their neighbours land. During these struggles, many neglected and hungry sheep strayed, which complicated relations further. The cycle of this behaviour had steadily escalated, until the turmoil had dragged the whole community into bitter feuds, in which much blood was spilled.
After a couple of particularly costly fallouts, in which some families received help from distant cousins outside the area, the whole group had an epiphany. They agreed a way to live in peace with each other, helping weaker farmers tend their flocks. The debts they owed from the feuding days took decades to repay, further reminding them not to fall into disputes again. But once their internal feuds were sorted out, each man’s boundaries were respected, and he was helped to farm his sheep responsibly.
And the community prospered. Pastures were weed free and in good heart, and both shepherds and sheep were healthy and contented. So much so in fact that, incredibly, boundary fences were allowed to fall into disrepair. The well fed sheep seldom strayed, and when they did, it was seen as a good thing….sharing between friends. The fame of the communities harmony spread far and wide, and was envied everywhere.
But then a fresh problem arose. Across the lake and beyond the mountains lay communities where the shepherds couldn’t learn how to tend their sheep. Their terrain and climate wasn’t as easy. Flocks weren’t content, often hungry, and given to straying. The historic feuds which the first community had overcome carried on unabated. Arguments blossomed about which breed of sheep was best, what commands the dogs should be trained to, or even the proper way to hold the shepherds crook. In fact, these arguments were usually an excuse to try and seize one another’s fields.
For the former settled community, looking across the lake and over the mountains, the scenes were all the more terrible, knowing they’d left such behaviour behind. They tried, over many years, to send fodder and good advice, but few of the distant communities could break the cycle, and those who did often found themselves inundated with hungry strays.
As the years went on, while the enlightened settled community had the answers to their own problems, it seemed they were forgetting what such troubles were like. Meanwhile, over where the terrain was tough, and where arguments about shepherding techniques reigned unceasingly, the sheep could smell the fertile quiet pastures across the lake and the mountains. Even the quantity of good fodder being given as goodwill gifts left a trail these hungry ewes could detect.
So, as hungry sheep are wont, they tried to sneak over the mountains and to swim across the lake, to get to the fresh green pastures they could sense. Many successfully found their way to the hospitable community, who at first welcomed them with open arms, allowing them to join the existing healthy flocks. Some settled into new pastures very well, becoming integral parts of these successful flocks.
Sadly, some brought with them shepherds with their own old prejudices and arguments, and some of these hated the successful farmers who lived in such peace, holding their crooks in the ‘wrong’ way. There were difficulties. And all the while, more and more sheep tried to get over the mountains and across the lake, the draw of the lush pastures irresistible. Clearly, the peaceful pastoral community couldn’t indefinitely absorb them without becoming overgrazed. But the news had spread, and they kept coming.
Up in the furthest backwoods of this community, on the poorest ground, were some shepherds that hadn’t lost sight of what can go wrong. They understood all too well how hungry sheep stray, and how squabbling shepherds come to strife. Some of them chittered that allowing this situation to continue would inevitably erode the contented serenity their community had achieved, and that the queue of sheep trying to break in would be effectively endless. But they were shouted down, decried as wicked and old fashioned. Many others couldn’t see the reality of what was happening, or that it would have no end. Perhaps to somehow absolve their conscience they blindly asserted that every stray should be welcomed regardless, declaring that to suggest otherwise was callous.
As the debate raged on, ever more strays arrived.
I haven’t heard how this community fared in the end, but it does sound familiar.
Wriiten for and reproduced by kind permission of NFU
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 fromwww.anton-coaker.co.uk
But he has missed one vital cog in this story - the dealer! The wheeler dealer chap who offers to supply or sell the sheep for you (or transport the sheep for a 'small' fee - no questions asked