It’s Called Progress!

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Fert lorryYesterday I unloaded thirty-eight tonnes of fertiliser (ready for next Spring) without breaking into a sweat. Twenty-five years ago fertilizer came in 50kg bags on a pallet. Unloading from the lorry was easy but loading into the spreader was by hand. Going back to my father’s day the unloading of the lorry, onto the trailer and into the spreader was all by hand. How times have changed…
Fert TractorOur fertilizer used to be
In twenty bags to the ton
And we loaded into the spreader
By hand one by one!
Now it comes in big bags
So easy to lift a tonne
We now just pull a lever,
Without sweat the job is done!
© Baldock Bard 2014
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Waving At Aircraft!

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ContrailHave you ever lain on your back on a hot summer’s day, looked up at the sky and wondered where that plane is going? The other day I watched a contrail from the garden. I pointed my phone at the sky and discovered though an app (PF AR) that it was carrying freight from Mineapplois to Stansted. If I was able to do that with my i-phone, how could someone with more resources ‘lose’ an aircraft…

In lay on my back
Looked up to the sky
Watching an aircraft
And wondering why
It leaves a trail
Wherever it’s been
Although sometimes
This cannot be seen

Then I wondered
About that Malaysian plane
Where it could be
Will it be seen again
The news is now silent,
The press have moved on
And nobody knows
Where it has gone

All of those relations
Of the passengers lost
How must they feel
When they count the cost
Of families parted
Never seen again
Because the authorities
Can’t find just one plane

© Baldock Bard 2014
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above
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Memories at Offord Lock!

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Offord LockIs there a place you know that forever reminds you of somebody?
Mrs Bard and I were on the River Great Ouse in Cambridgeshire this week. On a narrow-boat the top speed is around 4mph and so there is plenty of ‘thinking time’ as you steer a path that in a car would take minutes, but by boat takes hours. There are also locks to negotiate that can add considerably to journey time. It is one of these locks that will forever remind me of a friend who left us two years ago today.
Marsya and her husband Tony were with us for the weekend and we had to go through Offord Lock on our journey. While we were working the lock, I watched Marsya go over to a small table where there were cakes for sale in aid of charity. I took a couple of snapshots, not professional photographs, just holiday snaps!

Mars1This week, travelling through the same small countryside lock, I remembered that insignificant moment (woman buys cakes from table!) and thought of Marsya. Then I trawled through my un-catalogued digital-drawer to find the photos.
I post them this morning for two reasons. Firstly, to remember a great friend, who is sorely missed by all who had the great fortune to meet and know her. Secondly, as a reminder to us all, to enjoy and rejoice at those small insignificant moments when they happen, as they may turn out to be more important than they might seem at the time.
Mars2Enjoy a great weekend

Baldock Bard

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Turkey Tales: Cyril the Turkey-Plucker’s Tale

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peasant wearOne of my favourite pictures of my late mother is of her modelling ‘peasant-wear 1980’s style’ in the turkey-plucking shed. In those far-off days (pre-1990s) we’d prepare over 2,000 turkeys for London butchers. For many years we even supplied the butcher at Windsor that produced turkeys for the Queen to give to officers stationed at the castle over Christmas (the shop is now an ice-cream parlour I believe). Local hand-pluckers used to want the work and extra money for Christmas. How times change! The turkey-plucking shed is now devoid of feathers, radio and pre-Christmas chatter, these days Eastern Europeans pluck vast numbers by machine and nobody believes the old stories anymore…
CyrilCyril (in the rear of the photo) was an engine driver on the railways who came to the farm in early December to pluck turkeys on his days off. He worked out of Kings Cross Station, London. His favourite journey was from the terminus, splitting from the main line at Hitchin and running up to Cambridge. Every year he’d ask if he could have a bag of wheat from the farm and we’d provide a sack-full thinking that maybe he had chickens in his back garden. One year he told us the purpose of the wheat: On his way through Ashwell towards Cambridge, Cyril would occasionally throw wheat from the cab of the train. On the way back he’d stop the train, climb down from the cab and pick up any dead pheasants from a local estate that subsequent trains had hit. Quite often angry commuters would wind down the window and in angry tones shout, “What’s the problem, Driver?” Cyril would shout back, “Sorry for the delay sir, something on the track!”
Cyril died suddenly, some years before retirement. He was a kind-hearted man with a cheeky grin and a wonderful way with a story. We still miss him and always remember him at this time of year.

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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The Lifter – then and now!

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sacklifterMany years ago, when I was a child, wheat was stored on the farm in sacks. When the crop was sold to a merchant, a flatbed lorry used to arrive to collect the sacks. The sacks would be brought out from the barn on a sack barrow and dropped onto a frame that had been attached to the side of the lorry. This would then be lifted with hydraulics and the sack would be raised to the shoulder-height of the man waiting to receive them. He would then stack ten tons worth of them, sheet them up, rope them using a lorry-driver’s half-hitch knot and leave for a local mill. This morning I was reminded of this machine when I saw a very clever attachment on a coach…

I was in the town,
When I saw a sight,
I’d not seen for many a year.
An arm came out,
from the side of a coach,
and lifted pensioners clear.
Up they went,
in a stately lift,
Until they were level with the door.
And then they could walk,
on the level so to speak,
not need to climb any more!
And I remembered,
a scene from my youth,
loading sacks of wheat.
The principle from then,
Is used today,
to get pensioners to their seat!

It just goes to show,
the simplest of ideas,
are often worth reinventing!
Peoplelifter© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above


Picture of sack lifter from commercialmotor.com

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The Cull

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Deer 110313

According to media reports, experts have called for the culling of up to a million deer. I see deer every day and it is a sight I love. They run wacky races, play tag and hop, skip and jump, all in front of my kitchen window. They are the most graceful and fun-loving of creatures.
As a farmer, my unwritten contract with you all, whether vegetarian or meat-eating, is to feed as many of you as is humanly possible from the acreage I farm. This is done whilst also taking care of our countryside for future generations. Unfortunately, the damage done to the crops by herds of deer that often number 100+, can be catastrophic. Many breeds were introduced by nobility in the nineteenth century and therefore have no natural predator to control numbers.
I accept that some culling has to take place. Here on the farm, we have an expert shot who (very selectively) culls deer that are then used for meat. I have, however, heard horror stories of skill-less rifle-carriers, blasting away at any deer that falls within their sights without care or respect for their prey. This must be avoided at all costs.
Meanwhile, hardly a week goes by without another carcass lying on the side of the road which dissects the farm, following a collision with a truck or car. This is the visible side of a population explosion that arguably has its roots in the shooting ban imposed during the last foot-and-mouth disease outbreak.
It is right for everyone to join in the debate. But it must be remembered that most of you aren’t the ones who pull the trigger. Talk is cheap and emotions are high, but for the sake of the deer we must look at the problem with both compassion and reality.
.
There are experts talking
of a massed cull.
Unfortunately
not of so-called
experts
but of deer.

There has been much emphasis placed
on the deer’s ability to destroy
wild flowers and
undergrowth
in woodland.
What about the damage
to crops grown
to feed us?

The greater debate
should be the role
of food in society.

Until there is
no ham in Sandwich,
a lack of eggs in Egham,
and hunger in Hungerford,
the population
will not appreciate
the importance of food
for survival.

There is no nourishment
to be found
in the latest tablet or smart phone.
Even the most advanced app
lacks the ability to sustain life.

So lets talk with sense,
and realism,
leaving Bambi
to Blu-ray
and DVD.
Deer Grazing WheatTop picture shows the view from my kitchen window yesterday morning, the bottom picture a small herd on my wheat.

© Baldock Bard 2013

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Snow Showers with Undelivered Parcels!

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JCB Snowplough 3Yesterday evening we were out on the snowplough. Very fine snow had fallen, the temperature was freezing and ice covered the road. At the bottom of a hill we came across a very lucky man…

We went down the road on the snow plough,
Shifting snow off the road.
We came across a van with a delivery-man,
On its side, the traffic had slowed!
New Van NeededSomeone’s going to need a new van,
His delivery’s not gone to plan,
With parcels inside his van’s on its side,
He’s one lucky delivery man!
Snowploughing© Baldock Bard 2013

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The New Year Trail!

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The day after New Years Day is traditionally a blue day. Festivities are over, decorations look sad and the turkey curry is finished! A friend, who was staying over at Bard Towers, admitted that despite being a card-carrying member of a well-known avian organisation, he’d never visited their headquarters or nature reserve. Desperate to ward off post-holiday blues we joined a gaggle of khaki-clad and binocular festooned Kevins on a mission…

On the Sandy Ridge close to Biggleswade
On the trail of the lonesome pine,
Tony’s twitching for birds that are fine,
Of which there is no sign!
No birds (only tits that are blue),
Like the pine, lonesome and few!
On the Sandy Ridge close to Biggleswade
On the trail of the lonesome pine,
With sincere apologies to lyricist Ballard Macdonald and comedian/singers Laurel and Hardy whose rendition of ‘On the Trail of the Lonesome Pine’ reached number two in the charts in the seventies only to be held off the top spot by Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.

May I someday be forgiven!

© Baldock Bard 2013
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Ignoring the Noisy Neighbours!

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Yesterday we headed down from our Welsh mountain cottage in the clouds, where we are spending a couple of days with a friend, into the nearest town. The scenery was breathtaking, a picture postcard view around every hairpin bend. The silence was absolute, until we were joined by some noisy neighbours…

Yesterday morning we went into town,
To do some shopping and look around,
It was not far, just down the mountain,
About eight miles but no-one was counting!
So we drove off down the roads single track,
Sat-nav was set to find our way back!
We drove through a narrow high mountain pass,
Hillside sheep were munching away at some grass,
When all of a sudden a deafening sound,
Of a low-level jet fighter hugging the ground!
To be flying that low, the pilots are brave,
I am convinced that I saw one wave!
When I had recovered looked back up the pass,
The sheep were still munching away at the grass!
© Baldock Bard 2012
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above
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The Unfolding View!

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I always say that you are only really lost when you come across grass growing down the centre of the road! On Sunday Mrs Bard and I drove to join a friend in a remote holiday cottage near Dolgellau in North Wales. I had forgotten how good isolation is for the soul (as well as no internet access or mobile phone signal within walking distance – good for peace but not for posting!). Apparently when the owners bought this cottage, mist and fog meant they didn’t see the view for four visits, we were somewhat luckier…

I wandered lonely amongst the bracken,
That encroaches on the cattle track,
Holding my phone up to the heavens,
To get a signal to call you back!
All of a sudden I had a thought,
Our conversation meant you’re well,
The spread of mountains that lay before me,
Meant all my worries could go to hell!
I suddenly noticed mountain colour,
Where before had been dark green and brown,
The world around had shared its beauty,
No prettier landscape to be found.
Back inside the former chapel,
All my fears just lifted away,
The hustle and bustle of my existence,
Left back home for another day!
© Baldock Bard 2012
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above
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