Another Close Shave by William Newby

Author:William Newby
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: www.2qt.co.uk
Published: 2015-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

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High Scathwaite

After leaving school at fourteen, I spent about two years working for Uncle Robert on his farm at High Scathwaite. He had the same interest in horses as Grandfather, and he wanted only the best. Along with most farmers, he was told by the Ministry of Agriculture that a portion of the farm had to be ploughed. This was done with two horses pulling a two-wheeled cellar plough.

One day, when I had finished watering the young stock, cleaned the muck from the group, foddered them and made sure each one was fastened by its neck to either the boskin or the wall, Aunty Nelly had a basket and a can shaped like a small milk churn ready for me to take to Riggy Meadow, where Uncle Robert was ploughing. I waited not far from the gate, watching the two big horses coming towards me pulling the plough with no apparent effort. Behind the plough, the soil appeared like an endless ribbon.

The horses stood together, watching us eating our ‘bagging’ and drinking the coffee, interested each time we took a bite or a drink. The time this took was soon over and Uncle Robert said, ‘Take hold of the reins. I’ll hold the stilts. Turn into the furrow going the other way.’

Eager as I was to have a go, I knew this wasn’t going to be as easy as it appeared to be. I turned the horses along the ‘heading’, which is the turning area at each end of the furrow, and made a botch of it because, by turning the two horses too soon, the plough was nowhere near the right place. This meant driving them in a figure of eight to start again, with orders to get it right this time. I hoped Uncle Robert would say when the plough was in the right place and he did, just as the mould board was parallel with the furrows. He then said, ‘Turn them in,’ and the plough was pulled into the correct position.

I was relieved that was over and handed over the reins. I watched again as the plough seemed to glide through the turf. I walked along with him and, when we reached the other end, he said, ‘Take hold of the reins again. You’ll never learn any younger.’

I managed much better this time but I thought there was no way I could drive the horses and handle the plough as he did. After many attempts at each end, I was sent off to do another job.

In the evening when the day’s work was done, I told Aunty Nelly about my poor attempt at ploughing. She said, ‘Robert thought you did quite well. He said he only needed to explain to you once. As in most things, it is practice and knack that is needed.’

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