Bradford Lad: The Farming Life
Mike Coateworth tells of his days down on the farm.
When I was a teenager I worked on a North Yorkshire farm. Winter was approaching, and I was very glad to have a roof over my head.
The other farmhands knew that I’d never been on a farm before. I half-expected to be teased, but they were good lads and they taught me a lot about the rules and regulations of the job, safety being paramount.
At first I was a little nervous when around animals. I forgot this nervousness when I realised they were much more interested in being fed and kept clean than they were in trying to hurt me.
I think the hardest part of the job was leaving a warm bed early on cold winter mornings to go and milk the cows. A huge farmhouse breakfast when the milking was done more than made up for any discomforts.
The only work I disliked was dry-stone walling. I hated to have to frequently repair walls which either the farm animals or hikers had knocked down. The stone was cold to the fingers, and finding the right stone for the right place was enough to bring on a headache.
There were plenty of laughs along the way, sometimes at my expense. The other farmhads were in stitches as they watched me try to round up some piglets which had escaped. And their laughter could almost be heard in the next county when I was chased by some turkeys who took a dislike to me when I intruded on their domain.
When the nights were warm we would build a log fire in the garden and sometimes gather round it for a singsong.
The farmer was keen for me to learn all aspects of farm work. He taught me how to drive a tractor. I was a quick learner and soon got the hang of it.
Harvesting when the weather was warm was my favourite time of year. Women brought cool drinks and food to us out in the fields. A couple of them were good-looking. One time I was on top of a hayrick, showing off in front of the girls. Thoughts of safety went out of my head as I did a dance. But I got too near the edge of the haystack. When I placed my foot on one of the end bales it gave way. I went tumbling to the ground and the wind was knocked out of me.
As I picked myself up I saw a nail jutting out of a piece of wood, inches from where my head had been. I never fooled around again.
I also liked Spring time, the time when the winter blues faded away and new-born lambs frolicked in the fields, their legs unsteady.
Yes I enjoyed my time on the farm, though I soon realised it was not something I wanted to do for the rest of my life. The day that a bull chased me across a field was the real decider. It gave me not much more than half a second to clear a wall and reach safety.
When the farmer told me that the bull was merely a frisky cow I realised that in my case farming would probably involve a lifetime of embarrassment.
