News
Staff Member
I’m dearly hoping that, by the time you read this, the weather has improved. I’ve had a very trying time in the cold windy showers. While the sheep lambed a dream, the cows are very slow to calve, and I’ve had a load of extra bother with em for good measure. The South Devons had a busy week or two, although I’ve managed an abnormally high number of Belted and Angus cross calves from the big orange ladies. Some are from heifers and intentional, some are not, and are less welcome. These are the result of bulls straying through gates left open last summer. There’s a significant difference in their value, so I’m disinclined to chortle when some bedraggled group of yoof leave a gate open right in front of me. In fact, it was only by backtracking where a neighbour and I have had Belt calves appear that we’ve worked out the circular route the beggar took last July.
So far, the South Devon bulls’ expeditions the other way – he learnt to sneak under a road bridge to get with the Belts- hasn’t led to any calamities.
Instead it’s the purebred South Devon calves who’re giving me the problems, and suffering in the rain. I’ve had a run of them not get away, and quickly end up with cows with grubby pendulous udders, and rumped up empty calves. A touch of the mastics follows. I’ve currently got 3 outfits back indoors out of the weather, 2 of which need milking out daily. One couldn’t be more obliging, standing quiet in the pen, with a calf that tries on its own, while the other needs restraining in the crush every time, craps on me without fail, and has a dim calf for good measure.
And as for standing up mowing grass… not much chance of that.
Never mind the doings of rough and ready moorland folk, I heard a sorry lowland tale recently, involving a tragic livestock casualty.
See my pal David and his better half keep a duck in their urban garden, to keep down the slugs and such. She’s an obliging soul- the duck- who lays a clutch of eggs each spring, and quickly goes broody. However, not wanting a grumpy drake around the place, provision is made each spring to obtain some fertile eggs to substitute, so Ducky can raise some ducklings.
And this year was no different. The fowl soon went broody, and a few weeks later, was seen fussing over a clutch of fluffy little babies, which she quickly shepherded down to her little pond. All was well, until someone realised that not all the ducklings could swim. One, in fact, had drowned. The subsequent autopsy soon revealed that the poor little beggar didn’t have webbed feet. Even novice poultry magnate Dave knew this couldn’t be right, and some careful thought eventually worked out that some unnamed rascal must have supplied, in amongst the duck eggs, some (duck-egg blue) hens eggs.
And lastly, I’m confused. Did I hear that some poor radio DJ has been put out to grass for inadvertently playing a tune with the ‘N’ word in it, and that Jeremy Clarkson has had his knuckles rapped not quite saying the same word out loud? This got me thinking about that popular motion picture ‘Pulp Fiction’. In this movie, the ‘N’ word is used openly in the dialogue… indeed it is central to a memorable exchange within the plot. And if we’re going to be accurate, I wouldn’t say it’s used in a derogatory way, but rather neutrally descriptive. By implication, it isn’t used as a term of abuse, but one in common parlance in the social group featured. Is the film banned? While thinking about this, as I walked out to check some ewes, I was whistling a happy tune I heard on the radio. It was by that nice Elvis Costello chap, who used to sing about Oliver’s Army. And blow me, as I sang along to the tune playing in my head, I almost sang the ‘N’ word out loud. Is this song banned nowadays? If anything, in this instance the word is more derogatory as a reference. But even then, you’d have to be pretty mad to take offence at any of the above.
We all know the word has historic connotations that make it insulting, and that, as a rule, we shouldn’t use it. But I’d guess all this angst is actually damaging, suggesting some of us need mollycoddling beyond all reason, while others must live in a state of constant worry we might inadvertently let such a word slip out.
Get real, as they say.
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
Anton's previous articles can be found here:
http://thefarmingforum.co.uk/index.php?threads/the-anton-coaker-western-morning-news-column.5538/
So far, the South Devon bulls’ expeditions the other way – he learnt to sneak under a road bridge to get with the Belts- hasn’t led to any calamities.
Instead it’s the purebred South Devon calves who’re giving me the problems, and suffering in the rain. I’ve had a run of them not get away, and quickly end up with cows with grubby pendulous udders, and rumped up empty calves. A touch of the mastics follows. I’ve currently got 3 outfits back indoors out of the weather, 2 of which need milking out daily. One couldn’t be more obliging, standing quiet in the pen, with a calf that tries on its own, while the other needs restraining in the crush every time, craps on me without fail, and has a dim calf for good measure.
And as for standing up mowing grass… not much chance of that.
Never mind the doings of rough and ready moorland folk, I heard a sorry lowland tale recently, involving a tragic livestock casualty.
See my pal David and his better half keep a duck in their urban garden, to keep down the slugs and such. She’s an obliging soul- the duck- who lays a clutch of eggs each spring, and quickly goes broody. However, not wanting a grumpy drake around the place, provision is made each spring to obtain some fertile eggs to substitute, so Ducky can raise some ducklings.
And this year was no different. The fowl soon went broody, and a few weeks later, was seen fussing over a clutch of fluffy little babies, which she quickly shepherded down to her little pond. All was well, until someone realised that not all the ducklings could swim. One, in fact, had drowned. The subsequent autopsy soon revealed that the poor little beggar didn’t have webbed feet. Even novice poultry magnate Dave knew this couldn’t be right, and some careful thought eventually worked out that some unnamed rascal must have supplied, in amongst the duck eggs, some (duck-egg blue) hens eggs.
And lastly, I’m confused. Did I hear that some poor radio DJ has been put out to grass for inadvertently playing a tune with the ‘N’ word in it, and that Jeremy Clarkson has had his knuckles rapped not quite saying the same word out loud? This got me thinking about that popular motion picture ‘Pulp Fiction’. In this movie, the ‘N’ word is used openly in the dialogue… indeed it is central to a memorable exchange within the plot. And if we’re going to be accurate, I wouldn’t say it’s used in a derogatory way, but rather neutrally descriptive. By implication, it isn’t used as a term of abuse, but one in common parlance in the social group featured. Is the film banned? While thinking about this, as I walked out to check some ewes, I was whistling a happy tune I heard on the radio. It was by that nice Elvis Costello chap, who used to sing about Oliver’s Army. And blow me, as I sang along to the tune playing in my head, I almost sang the ‘N’ word out loud. Is this song banned nowadays? If anything, in this instance the word is more derogatory as a reference. But even then, you’d have to be pretty mad to take offence at any of the above.
We all know the word has historic connotations that make it insulting, and that, as a rule, we shouldn’t use it. But I’d guess all this angst is actually damaging, suggesting some of us need mollycoddling beyond all reason, while others must live in a state of constant worry we might inadvertently let such a word slip out.
Get real, as they say.
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
Anton's previous articles can be found here:
http://thefarmingforum.co.uk/index.php?threads/the-anton-coaker-western-morning-news-column.5538/