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Farm life before the war has remained vivid in Jack Hill's memory, the lad who was born and raised on The Gables Farm.
Every year several fields were laid down as being suitable for a hay crop and so cattle and sheep were kept well away to allow the grass a chance to flourish. A slight problem arose when a public footpath crossed a field. The longer grass was used by courting couples for concealment but the subsequent thrashing around tended to flatten wide areas and the broken grass never managed to thrive.
Once June had arrived, the Ransomes mower was brought out and the cutting knives sharpened and renewed where necessary. These were the triangular shaped cutters also used with the corn-cutting machine later in the year. Two horses were needed to pull the machine and were attached by a central pole with a cross piece hanging from their collars.
John, the farm labourer, or Dad operated this machine seated on a metal seat, cast with the name Ransomes and the address, to create a well-drained support. The cutting bar was raised by lowering a foot pedal and pulling with a large lever, and was put in or out of gear by moving a weighted handle. When not in use the cutting bar was protected by a long wooden box tied with string.
A mould board shaped the rows of grass in a measured width and here the grass would lie for several days before being turned over by the swath turner. This machine had two large revolving rings which carried steel tines that flicked the grass sideways. Often however, if the horses were needed for other work, Dad and Mother would walk along the rows, turning the grass manually with a short two tined fork.
After a lapse of several more days, depending on the weather, the dried grass was gathered into different rows by a horse rake, a 2.5 metre wide bank of curved steel tines suspended with the points held just above the ground surface. When drawn along by the horse, the gearing from the large support wheels provided power to lift the tines and so allow the grass to remain behind
The more bulky grass was now coaxed by fork or wooden rake into heaps called cocks, and there it would remain for more days until collection by the four-wheeled wagon could be organised.
This next stage required a team of three, two persons, always men, to lift the grass up on to the wagon and a third person, usually me or Johnny Richardson, to get each forkful to nestle in to its neighbour for the ride homewards. Being a loose commodity, some slippage used to occur before hempen ropes were thrown over and tied as tightly as possible.
When I was pressed into service as the loader, I always had to endure complaints from the loaders if their forkful was not accepted immediately. With a pitcher on either side, one was required to dart from side to side and also keep the middle filled with hay to help anchor the load.
The wagon would have to cross the fields and would often lurch as the wheels found different levels, tending to move the load and give one many anxious moments. Sometimes a real slip would occur and much grumbling would ensue whilst the load was remade. Seldom did we have to cross the highway so the embarrassment was just a private affair.
Off-loading the hay in the stackyard was also strenuous work as the size of the stack dictated how many stages would be required across its width. A 'throw' would be quite short, perhaps the length of a short fork, as the action would be repeated several hundred times and become very tiring.
The stacks were usually located under the Dutch barn and so, as the stack rose in height, the first staging level would remain at 'top of load' level, and the first lift be a definite hike upwards and backwards after which the throws would be horizontal.
Having a black steel roof, the barn attracted the sun's heat and the workers with their heads close to this roof would be bathed in sweat. Conditions got worse as the draught was reduced by the piled up hay, a small door at either end giving some relief and a chance to get a breath of fresh air.
If the hay was slightly damp when being stacked there was often the possibility of spontaneous combustion, and this would cause a flurry of activity in getting the stack opened up to allow air to penetrate. Here the hay would sit and gradually consolidate until its use during the winter months.
Being compacted, the hay now required the use of a cutter, a large steel blade with a wooden handle long enough for two-handed pressure to be exerted.
A chunk of hay was cut, making a man-sized bundle to be carried on a short fork, and this would be taken to the point of feeding. Into the troughs of the cows or horses or into the sheep feeders, which were moveable contraptions with a V shaped storage container of steel tined sides through which the sheep could pull the hay. A hinged roof protected the hay from the rain and gave access for filling with new hay
The cast iron wheels for these units allowed them to be towed behind a cart, but negotiating curves was only achieved by use of a wooden lever and brute force.
Often a field of grain was undersown later in the growing season with a crop of white or red clover. This crop held moisture in the ground for the growing wheat and next spring it provided a welcome green crop for the cows. The grass and clover grew to a height of some 200mm, and so had to be cut with a scythe and then loaded into the trap for quick transfer to the cowsheds.
The range of foodstuffs grown on the 40 acres of arable land on the far side of Main Road was quite limited but was properly rotated to ensure fair crops.
The ground in the early years was heavy and wet, and so when I was about five years old, Dad enlisted the help of a deep-digging team using two Fowler steam engines. With winding drums slung under their boilers and a wire rope connected to a four-bladed, two-way plough, three men were needed to control the engines and guide the plough to and fro.
The effect was not as good as had been hoped, for the depth of the cut brought up the underlying clay and this baked in the sun making the breaking-down process more difficult.
Another system was thought feasible but this required the purchase of large quantities of porous clay piping from Nailstone colliery brickyard and laborious excavation of trenches and laying of the pipes.
I remember a long-handled scoop was used to get the last cut for the lie of the pipes
The forty acres had originally been four fields of ten acres each, with a small brick-built barn at the connecting corner of the four. Gradually the hedges were grubbed up to reduce the draw on moisture by the hawthorn bushes and also to eliminate the problems with tree roots obstructing the plough blade.
This could be deemed the start of the prairie farm now visible at Desford.
A public footpath crossed the two fields closest to the Newbold Road and for many years the stile was retained to give anyone a clear idea of the route across the ploughed land.
The door of the small barn was wide enough to allow access for the plough and the seed drill, the distributor of which could be swivelled in line with the large front wheel. This being a man-propelled piece of equipment, it was used principally for sowing of clover on relatively hard ground but Dad very often dispensed with it and used the time-honoured system of broadcasting. Using a large shaped metal container slung across one's middle, just low enough to allow the hands to be dipped in and a scoop of seed to be grasped and flung forwards and sideways.
The wheeled sower was quite unwieldy when the box was turned across the frame and if the wheel struck a largish stone the machine would lurch sideways.
Beyond the 40 acres of arable was another field, originally allotments it became redundant and so was purchased. The first year it grew a heavy crop of weeds and when the late summer sun ripened the growth I decided to be helpful and get it burnt prior to ploughing. This was a good idea but unfortunately I had not allowed for the wind and so, once the dry weeds took hold, I had no way to control the passage of the flames, and could only watch helplessly as the fire swept across the hawthorn hedge, making short work of it. Can't remember what Dad said but it must have been quite mild.
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