A course as important as any I took in college was just listening to old farmers chat.
Long before the days of the internet and TV when it seemed like all that was on that old box radio, with the antenna wire out the window, was CBC News that gave you a time check each day at . . .
one o’clock, the Saturday night hockey with Foster Hewett and WWVA (if you could find it through the static), people actually chatted with each other to get informed about everything.
When grandpa was working in the field with the horses he and his neighbour used to meet at the line fence and give the horses a break in the shade of that big pine tree. A hundred years ago, the horses were just as respected as any other member of the family and more so than some. If it had been some time since those neighbours talked, the horses were rested and ready to go back to work before the two old farmers were talked out.
They talked about planting long fellow corn for silage again that year or trying that new variety which they couldn’t remember the name of. They wondered if Harry would plant buckwheat in that same field that he did for the last 10 years. They wondered if the government inspectors had caught the creamery putting too much salt in the butter again. (Salt was much cheaper than cream and a little extra only made the butter tastier and cheaper to make). They talked about what the cannery would take this year. Would it be mostly tomatoes or maybe some green beans and fall fruit too? Would they plant an extra acre of potatoes this year or just enough for themselves? George, our neighbour had a real good potato digger. Was grandpa still delivering milk in town with the wagon? Did he still milk Jerseys in the summer to meet the increases in demand for cream in town because many town people milked their own cow all summer but didn’t have a separator to get their own cream? Did they still buy wood rejects from the stave factory for kindling? How much was the drover paying for pigs and steers? Do you still have that big 24 inch collar? Rock is getting too big for that one we use on him.
They agreed that a spring tine cultivator was much better than a disc for getting rid of that scotch grass. They talked about the team running away with the roller and that poor driver getting killed when the roller went over him when he fell off. They both agreed that those western horses were lively and tough but a lot harder to handle than Belgians or Percheron horses.
When I was old enough to drive a tractor, my dad and I were usually the ones to bring the loads of hay home from the farm at the lake which was four miles away. We usually came by the Radford Country Store because we didn’t have to go up over the big hill that way. Stopping at the little country store was a big event for a 10 year-old farm kid. Getting a seven cent coke out of that ice cold water cooler was a real treat. Then came the education part as we sat on the old wooden chairs or Coke cases and listened to what was the best time of the moon to cut horns off cattle to have the least bleeding. We were also reminded that unless you got your face dirty cultivating a field, you might as well be sleeping under a tree because the soil had to be dry enough to leave dust on your face to be dry enough to kill the weeds when cultivating. There had been several break-ins and robberies that summer and as the owner Gordon swung the big razor-sharp, 14-inch butcher knife that he cut cheese off the wheel with, his eyes gleamed as he pronounced that that SOB had better not come in there.
As all the farmers then used grain binders and threshing mills to get the grain off, there was often talk about who was the best mill man to put the most grain in the grainery and the least blew into the straw stack with the straw. Whether the threshing mill was a Dion or an International didn’t seem to matter as much as the knowledge of the mill man.
One morning our neighbour George, arrived at the dairy to deliver his cans of milk with his hand all bandaged up in white cloth. My dad asked, “What happened to your hand George?” His reply was, “The wind blew the stable door shut on it.” On the way home dad stopped in at George’s to ask “What really happened?” because there was no wind that morning. George replied, “By gad I knew that you’d know that Louis.” George didn’t hear very well and stuck his hand in the exhaust fan to find out if it was running or not. It was. Dad looked at George’s skinned up hand and couldn’t persuade George to go to the doctor or the hospital which was only a mile away. Dad brought George some antibiotic ointment from our house next door. George was okay but it was a lesson learned the hard way.
Today in 2020, old farmers meet at the gas station, feed mill or coffee shop but still talk about markets, world trade, new fangled farm tools, argue about when electric tractors will take over, new stupid government regulations and wonder where common sense has gone.
Chris Judd is a farmer in Clarendon on land that has been in his family for generations. gladcrest@gmail.com
