I hope not. Robots have their place but will they ever spot the slipped calf clues that the hands on milker sees? and ok, I know, robot users will tell you that the robots give them more time to be with the cows. Well, that all depends on the stockman / owner.
help please to paint a picture in words
- Thread starter glow worm
- Start date
Roger Perry
Member
We have a big old horse barn at the ranch with the names of the horses on cards still above the stalls from 100 plus yrs ago, notes written in pencil still readable on the walls/names of people................take time to stand in there once in a while and feel the yrs slip away..........
Danllan
Member
- Location
- Sir Gar / Carms
We had the same above some of our stables when I was a boy, but spelt out in hob-nails, my grandfather had worked with some of them. The only name I can remember now is 'Captain'
... but I know I made a list of them about ten years ago in a diary I still have , I think I also have some photo's. I do still have some of their chains and leather and stall weights that I brought when we came to the new place.Before my time one uncle still had a couple of heavy horses, pets really; one of my cousins, pretty young at the time, was visiting and was told to clean them up and he trimmed the featherings off because they were muddy... by grandfather was both sad and furious.
- Location
- Ceredigion
Machines can spot mastitis before man
True but who sees the aborted afterbirth etc 1st? The robot or the good stockman?
Lovely 'picture'. Do u remember some of the names? We had a barn with lots of the old cart horse tack hanging up, some still with the horse brasses attached. Sad really. And in one tack room, lots of little wooden signs, all painted white,hung up with old cord, with the names of all our jerseys painted in black. All a far cry from modern farming.
2 take that time with the hob nails shows such a love 4 his stock .. + maybe a more leisurly lifestyle.more names and a picture would be nice if you still have them and have the timeWe had the same above some of our stables , but spelt out in hob-nails, my grandfather had worked with some of them. The only name I can remember now is 'Captain'
Before my time one uncle still had a couple of heavy horses, pets really; one of my cousins, pretty young at the time, was visiting and was told to clean them up and he trimmed the featherings off because they were muddy... by grandfather was both sad and furious.
Roger Perry
Member
OK, Slim, Bell, Tom, Pet,Baby, Jumbo, John, Frank, Molly, and Maggie..........
I have and old horse drawn International Harvester manure spreader that has written on the side in pencil all the hogs and calves/cattle the owner had.............its dated 1946 and at 90 degrees from upright, as though the old boy took a rest from loading manure, pulled a pencil from his pocket and wrote down all his livestock numbers, with one arm resting on the side of the spreader.......he wrote his life down. How I love to have met the man
I look at it from time to time and marvel that its' still readable........
I have and old horse drawn International Harvester manure spreader that has written on the side in pencil all the hogs and calves/cattle the owner had.............its dated 1946 and at 90 degrees from upright, as though the old boy took a rest from loading manure, pulled a pencil from his pocket and wrote down all his livestock numbers, with one arm resting on the side of the spreader.......he wrote his life down. How I love to have met the man
I look at it from time to time and marvel that its' still readable........
Danllan
Member
- Location
- Sir Gar / Carms
I can't find the diary! It is one of those absurd situations when you have seen something a number of times in passing but, despite going through the house a number of times now looking for it, I can't find it... age? But, Mrs Danllan is pretty sure the pic's are on one of here external hard drives... I have remembered one more name though, Star.
I can almost see him as you describe, leaning over the side and jotting down the livestock details. Except for Tom, not the usual run of names for horses. I wonder if he bred them himself and how many he had at any one time.
Were the featherings purely decoratative or did they have a
practical purpose ie protection perhaps when ploughing?
Danllan
Member
- Location
- Sir Gar / Carms
That I can't answer because I've never worked with horses other than to ride them, and I don't know about the history of the old heavy horses. I do know that all the horses I've seen at shows make a fine display with their plaited manes and tails and the feathers all fluffed up. I guess he just though they looked 'right' with them, that would have been like him.
Old Boar
Member
- Location
- West Wales
When I started farming here in the early ‘70’s, I became part of a group sharing equipment and labour. I was the last in line as the smallest holding. Cutting the hay, rowing up and baling was shared – I had a tractor and tedder so that was my part. As one of the youngest, I was also the idiot stacking bales in the barn until there was no head room. I always had bad hay fever so the bales were covered in sneezes!
Nearly everyone made a quantity of small hay bales. The dairy boys – the majority – also made clamp silage with single chop, buck racking into the clamp and rolling with whatever tractor was available. I was the idiot forking the edges and the corners.
It was considered posh to have a tractor with a cab, or even working brakes. The tractors were much smaller and would fit in tight corners. The skill at twiddling a trailer wobbling with hay bales into a small gap still impresses me. A cry used to go up at each farm when the last bale was undercover “that is the one we were looking for!” and then all sitting round with a large flask of tea you could stand a spoon in, warm welsh cakes and bara “one or two”, teasing each other and catching up on family news and gossip.
When bagged silage came in, I was part of a gang that would bag. You would stand with a bag open while the tractor driver drove the bale into the bag, and put it on the stack. You would then gather up the front of the bag, twist and tie with a bit of string, bend the gather over and tie again with the same bit of string. It was common to have a bracelet or two of bale tape to patch the punctures. I think I had muscles on my muscles! Bale wrap was a good invention!
Around 1978, I grew a field of oats. Danny Beulah came along with his reaper binder and we made stooks. About 30 minutes after starting, the hedge was lines with the elderly from the area, and they all came to help, showing me how to tie a stook using the corn, as the knotter did not work, and how to get a stook to stand up. They stayed until the last stook was done, then threw knives at the last bit and burst into song. I cried. They came back after 3 church bells and showed me how to build a rick. We put a tarp over it, much to their disgust as they all wanted to have a go at thatching it. Everyday skills now gone forever.
We could all pretty well mend anything that broke, with the occasional visit to the local blacksmith to bend something back into a close approximation to the original shape. Tractor engines were much simpler and undoing various bits and cleaning them often worked. Many “happy” hours were spent towing various tractors until you had “black smoke!” Most tractor sheds were lined with rusting empty tins of Easy Start.
The vet was rarely called, we all “had a look” and put in our ideas or skills. I used to sew things up and was good at calving. Epsom salts, Stockholm tar and “green tincture” were the staples on the medicine shelf. Vets used brown glass bottles of calcium borogluconate with a red cracked rubber tube and flutter valve straight into the jugular for milk fever, which seemed common then. I remember buying a bottle of wine as the shape of the bottle was ideal for drenching – can you imagine mixing a drench in a bucket, pouring the soup into a bottle and then sticking a glass bottle down the side of a cows cheek and lifting its head?
We did not have phones – not even a house phone – and we used the red box up the road, now long gone. If you wanted to give someone a message, you went to see them.
There was no pub in the whole parish, and this is still true. The village school became the centre of social life, and the chapel of course, with the village shop. The shop closed many years ago, and the school closed a few years ago, ripping the heart out of the village. The children are now bussed to a new junior school 10 miles away.
Whilst I know I can pick up the phone and call for help from mostly the same neighbours as in the original group, it is not the same. Something is missing. And not for the better.
Nearly everyone made a quantity of small hay bales. The dairy boys – the majority – also made clamp silage with single chop, buck racking into the clamp and rolling with whatever tractor was available. I was the idiot forking the edges and the corners.
It was considered posh to have a tractor with a cab, or even working brakes. The tractors were much smaller and would fit in tight corners. The skill at twiddling a trailer wobbling with hay bales into a small gap still impresses me. A cry used to go up at each farm when the last bale was undercover “that is the one we were looking for!” and then all sitting round with a large flask of tea you could stand a spoon in, warm welsh cakes and bara “one or two”, teasing each other and catching up on family news and gossip.
When bagged silage came in, I was part of a gang that would bag. You would stand with a bag open while the tractor driver drove the bale into the bag, and put it on the stack. You would then gather up the front of the bag, twist and tie with a bit of string, bend the gather over and tie again with the same bit of string. It was common to have a bracelet or two of bale tape to patch the punctures. I think I had muscles on my muscles! Bale wrap was a good invention!
Around 1978, I grew a field of oats. Danny Beulah came along with his reaper binder and we made stooks. About 30 minutes after starting, the hedge was lines with the elderly from the area, and they all came to help, showing me how to tie a stook using the corn, as the knotter did not work, and how to get a stook to stand up. They stayed until the last stook was done, then threw knives at the last bit and burst into song. I cried. They came back after 3 church bells and showed me how to build a rick. We put a tarp over it, much to their disgust as they all wanted to have a go at thatching it. Everyday skills now gone forever.
We could all pretty well mend anything that broke, with the occasional visit to the local blacksmith to bend something back into a close approximation to the original shape. Tractor engines were much simpler and undoing various bits and cleaning them often worked. Many “happy” hours were spent towing various tractors until you had “black smoke!” Most tractor sheds were lined with rusting empty tins of Easy Start.
The vet was rarely called, we all “had a look” and put in our ideas or skills. I used to sew things up and was good at calving. Epsom salts, Stockholm tar and “green tincture” were the staples on the medicine shelf. Vets used brown glass bottles of calcium borogluconate with a red cracked rubber tube and flutter valve straight into the jugular for milk fever, which seemed common then. I remember buying a bottle of wine as the shape of the bottle was ideal for drenching – can you imagine mixing a drench in a bucket, pouring the soup into a bottle and then sticking a glass bottle down the side of a cows cheek and lifting its head?
We did not have phones – not even a house phone – and we used the red box up the road, now long gone. If you wanted to give someone a message, you went to see them.
There was no pub in the whole parish, and this is still true. The village school became the centre of social life, and the chapel of course, with the village shop. The shop closed many years ago, and the school closed a few years ago, ripping the heart out of the village. The children are now bussed to a new junior school 10 miles away.
Whilst I know I can pick up the phone and call for help from mostly the same neighbours as in the original group, it is not the same. Something is missing. And not for the better.
That stirred a lot of my memories .. let alone anyone elses that I will read to! Drenching with glass bottles .. common occurence. Used to have a vet that was very partial to wine, so they always had loads of empty bottles on the shelf! oh the horror of off loading a lorry and drag of little bales of straw. The lorry driver used to throw them off the lorry for us to pass person to person into a barn to be stacked, usually done without gloves as the strings were often too tight to get gloves underneath. Mind, there were always some that disintegrated as they hit the ground, leaving a big heap to be cleared up afterwards. And bagging silage bales!! Oh yes! Hundreds on what felt like the hotest day of the year! I can remember still the bliss of the first year of silage wrap! you are so right about the changes to village life and its sad to see the small shop / post office that was always the centre of local gossip /knowledge go. there used to be a tight community that is certainly differnt nowerdays. I dont know much about sheep but before my OH was my OH, he took me to a communal sheep dip where all the local farmers had gathered to dip and share the work. Very traditional farmers, sacking used as aprons and protection tied on with baler cord, very strong acents. I dont know if they do such communal dips now or whether its much more of an on farm job with fewer people involved, less socialisation.
deena999
New Member
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