Bradford Lad: High Jinks Down On The Farm
Mike Coatesworth remembers the idyllic days when he worked on a farm.
When I was a teenager I went to work on a north Yorkshire farm when winter wasn’t far away. I was truly grateful to have a roof over my head.
The other farmhands knew I’d never been on a farm before. I half expected to be ridiculed, but I was mistaken. They were a great bunch of lads and they taught me a lot, safety on the farm being paramount.
At first I was a little nervous of the animals, but I overcame this as soon as I realised they were more interested in being fed and kept clean than in hurting me. The hardest part was learning to get up early out of a warm bed for the milking in the cold winter months, but huge freshly cooked farmhouse breakfasts more than made up for any discomforts.
The only farm work I disliked was dry-stone walling. I hated having to constantly repair walls that either animals or visitors had knocked down. Not only was this wor. very cold on my fingers. Ensuring that stones were replaced in the correct order hurt my brain.
It wasn’t all work. We enjoyed a laugh and a joke. When the piglets escaped everyone was in stitches as they watched my attempts to catch them, and their mirth could be heard far and wide when I was chased by some turkeys which had taken a dislike to my intruding on their domain.
At night if it was warm, we sometimes had sing-song outside in the garden or we simply sat around a log fire chatting.
The farmer, keen that I should learn all aspects of farming, taught me how to drive the tractor. I was a quick learner and soon got the hang of it.
Harvest time, when the weather was warm, was my favourite part of the farm year. The ladies brought out fresh food and cool drinks to us in the fields, and a couple of the girls weren’t bad looking. At one time I was on top of a hayrick, showing off in front of the girls. Safety rules went completely out of my mind as I did a dance. I got too near the edge. When I placed my foot on the end bale it gave way. I went tumbling. The wind was knocked right out of me when I hit the ground. I was shaken up, even more so when I saw large nail sticking up inches from my head. I never messed about again.
Spring time was excellent. The winter blues faded. I was delighted at sight of the new born lambs frolicking in the fields, some them unsteady on their legs.
Although I enjoyed my time on the farm, I knew that it was not something that I wanted to do forever. Finally I moved on before getting too settled into that way of life.
Was it the bull that chased me clear across the field, giving me just half a second to clear a wall, that made me decide that farming wasn’t going to be my life? Or could have been the embarrassment when the farmer informed me that the bull was in fact just a frisky cow?
If you think my stories are true, then they probably are.
If you think my stories are fiction, then just relax and enjoy the tales
Meet Mike and read some great stories
http://www.btinternet.com/~mikeco158/mike.htm
