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Life on The Gables Farm was a steep learning curve for young Jack Hill in the 1930's.
Twelve Rhode Island pullets that were just coming in to lay, Jack recalled, so for these a portable ark was purchased and located in the home field. I was charged with feeding collecting the eggs and generally looking after them. The eggs were sold to various people including Len Plant's mother and at two and sixpence for a dozen I was on to a good thing as I had free access to the maize trough.
I learned by accident that they needed grit to help the egg growing process, and so borrowed a 14 lb weight usually kept near to the weighing machine. This I lugged out to the field and then collected broken crockery from neighbours, which I broke into small pieces using a small hammer. The hens would stand around me and dart in to gobble up the pieces. They became very tame and as I approached they would sit down ready to be picked up and carried around or back to the pen at night.
This ark was sturdy enough so they were never attacked by foxes. Ownership of these pets was abruptly ended on the day of the farm sale and I took care not to be near when they were sold.
Orphan lambs don't really count as pets but for a few weeks in the early spring there would often be a small wiry body brought in to the kitchen and deposited in a cardboard box close to the fireplace. These would require feeding by bottle and this was a wonderful experience once the technique was mastered.
I recall that two lambs, after being weaned off milk, were turned out into the paddock behind the Dutch barn. Being familiar with them I climbed down the brick wall to pat and caress them but they recalled being fed by bottle and so kept pushing me for a feed. I was forced back to the wall and couldn't escape back up to safety so had to yell for help. Hollick came to my rescue.
The actual birth of animals was something I was never allowed to watch, but I have been out with John R in the cart to fetch in a calf that had been born in the Home Field. The little one would be lifted into the cart with the mother looking over the tailboard and nuzzling it. John would locate the slimy placenta and with the help of a two tined fork would hoist it up into the topmost branches of a nearby hedge for the crows to eat.
Mother and calf would be allocated a space in the shed next to the pigsty and they would remain together for two or three days after which mother would be led away back to her stall in the cowshed. She would be kept in for a while and her milk taken to the calf, which would be quickly trained to drink from the bucket. For a day or two the noise was quite disturbing with each one calling for the other.
Usually the calf was taken to market and it's fate then became something one didn't think about. Bull calves automatically went for veal meat and most times that was also the fate of the females, as they had no pedigree to speak of.
The cows' milk initially had strong streaks of blood and so was called beastings and some was given to Hollick who liked using folk recipes. After a week or so the milk cleared and the cow was back in the production line
The start of the lactation process entailed a visit to the bull in Richardsons farm or at Grandma's farm, which by then was rented by the Richardsons. The cow would wander about the yard looking lost, but once the gate was opened and the bull appeared, things got quite brisk and within minutes the mounting had taken place.
Then it was time to go home again and, depending on the cow's temperament, some would be lead by halter and others would be driven on the grass verge along the Manor Road and back to The Gables Farm.
We seemed to be very fortunate regarding accidents to animals and seldom had visits from the vet. I remember one of the cows had her vagina badly torn by the horn of another cow but this was just given a smear of salve to help keep the flies away. Horns are nasty things and give one a real hard dig in the ribs. Tails also could be used by cows to good effect to send a flat cap flying into the gutter and into the inevitable cowpat.
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