Thomas Bates - Northumbrian Farming Innovator and Shorthorn Breeding Pioneer

By Dr Malcolm Tait, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

How on earth could there be connections between the village of Chudleigh in Tasmania; Vancouver, Canada; Halton Castle, Northumberland; Thomas Bates and Shorthorn cattle?

This story began while my wife and I were visiting Tasmania in 2005. We stumbled across a local agricultural show at Chudleigh where, just by chance we met Warwick Holmes, a retired dairy farmer. His small herd of dairy Shorthorns is his hobby and pride and joy.

Warwick knew only a little about the history of the breed so, with my wife being from Durham, and me from Northumberland, we told him what we knew. I then promised to do some research and provide more detail.

On our return to Vancouver I discovered a book in the library of the University of British Columbia, entitled "The History of Improved Short-Horn or Durham Cattle: from notes of the late Thomas Bates".

Thomas Bell
The author of the book was a Thomas Bell, born at Halton Castle, Northumberland in 1805, where his father Robert Bell was farm steward for Thomas Bates for many years. Robert Redpath, "North of England Farmer Office", Clayton Street, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, published the book in 1871, and this particular copy is signed by a "John Swinburne, 16 Aug. 1871".

Who was John Swinburne (a good Northumbrian name), and how did the book end up in Canada?

From the book I discovered that Thomas Bates was a Northumbrian, one of the leading agriculturalists of his day, and a famous breeder of Shorthorn cattle. His contribution to agriculture in the county, and the Shorthorn breed around the world was massive, and that he probably never got full credit for this.

Memories of Cockle Park
Reading this material brought back memories; generations of us past students who studied at King's College (then a college of the University of Durham) and Cockle Park (the University's experimental farm) were told all this by our revered Professor H. Cecil Pawson, but not much went in at the time as history was not our favorite subject.

Shorthorns were called "Durham cattle" and the Colling brothers who farmed near Darlington get most of the credit for their development. But Thomas Bates made a much greater contribution to improving the breed, and to many other aspects of agriculture.

A man of foresight
Bates was a man of great foresight; many of his ideas were conceived at Halton Castle, which became the test bed for much of his work. Later in life he moved to Kirklevington in North Yorkshire, and his involvement with Shorthorns is often linked to his Kirklevington herd with little mention of his Northumbrian roots.

Bates concentrated on the breed's milk production and milk quality, he was largely responsible for developing the dairy strain of Shorthorn, and apparently large quantities of superior quality butter and cheese were made at Halton. A footnote in Bell's book states; "I believe that no cheese is now (1871) made in Northumberland. The ordinary cheese used by the labouring classes is nearly all American".

Shorthorns were classed as a "dual purpose" breed and produced both meat and milk. Robert Booth of Killerby, Durham concentrated on the beef characteristics and there was a famous saying "Booth for the butcher, Bates for the pail".

Thomas Bates
Thomas Bates was born in 1776 and attended school at Haydon Bridge and Witton-le-Wear. His farming career began at Aydon Castle and by the age of 20 he was managing one of his father's estates, Park End, Wark. Within a very short time he made significant improvements to that property, primarily by draining and liming.

He was 25 in 1800 when he took the 21-year lease on 800 acres at Halton Castle, a short distance north of Corbridge. He immediately began draining large areas of that estate applying what was known as the Elkington principle. This involved close study of the nature of the soils, the strata and the water flow. Drains were up to 10 feet deep and draining was followed by extensive use of lime.

While he was at Halton he spent the winters of 1809-11 at Edinburgh University studying chemistry and mineralogy. He then promoted the application of these and other sciences to the study and improvement of agriculture.

Many friends
Many eminent agriculturalists were his friends, mentors, and sources of inspiration and several were frequent visitors to Halton Castle. One of the most notable was George Culley of Fenton who married Elizabeth Bates, a cousin of Thomas' father. The Culley brothers were noted breeders of livestock especially the creation of Border Leicester sheep. Many of the principles of animal breeding that Thomas Bates applied to the improvement of Shorthorns were learned from George Culley.

George Culley was also the primary author of the "Survey of Northumberland" 1797. In that report he proposed the establishment of experimental farms to bring about improvements in farming. Thomas Bates picked up this idea, developed it further and presented a lengthy address on the subject of the need for "publicly funded experimental farms" to the Board of Agriculture. It's dated Halton Castle, Dec. 19th 1807.

No farming academics
In that address, he expressed concern that Britain was not self-sufficient in food and was becoming increasingly dependent on imports. In relation to this he also debated the pros and cons of free trade. Furthermore, Bates lamented that there was not a professor of agriculture at either Cambridge or Oxford University. He was clearly a man ahead of his time, as it was 40 years after his death that the Northumberland County Experimental Station was established at Cockle Park (1896), as well as a Chair of Agriculture at the University of Durham, College of Science, Newcastle.

Bates was also interested in forestry; he started plantations on the higher land at Park End, primarily to provide shelter for livestock. While at Halton, he wrote articles for agricultural publications urging other landowners to do the same, drawing attention to the importance and benefits of shelter for stock.

As a result 1000 acres of Corbridge commons was planted. Swedish visitors to Halton Castle gave his efforts in afforestation greater impetus when they observed that, "Britain imports large quantities of timber yet the hills of Northumberland are naked." Did Thomas Bates foresee Kielder Forest?

Moving to Ridley Hall
In 1818, before the lease on Halton Castle expired, Bates bought Ridley Hall and moved there. He subsequently moved to Kirklevington in 1830. On one occasion he attended a meeting at Alnwick and in response to a toast he said; "Although I now reside in Yorkshire my heart is still in Northumberland".

Several of his ideas have borne fruit and many of the issues he addressed nearly 200 years ago are highly relevant today. He never married and the herd was dispersed after he died at Kirklevington in 1849. There is a memorial beside his grave in the Kirklevington churchyard that was raised by his friends who recognized him as "one of the most distinguished breeders of Shorthorn cattle".

Within Kirklevingon church there is a memorial window depicting Shorthorn cattle which his nephew arranged to be installed in 1883.

Shorthorn Cattle - A History of the Breed

By Dr Clive Dalton

The Shorthorn was a mainstay of British farming for hundreds of years and far outnumbered all other types. Its origins are obscure, although there were large red and white cattle with short horns (as opposed to Longhorn cattle) called Teeswaters in England in the early 18th Century near Darlington in county Durham. They probably had a lot of Dutch blood in them.

Charles Colling (1750-1836) and his brother Robert (1749-1820) of Barmpton Hall (see photo at right) used the principles of “in-and-in breeding”, and “breeding the best to the best” developed by the famous breeding pioneer of the time - Thomas Bakewell of Dishley. Bakewell was the noted “improver” of Longhorn cattle and Leicester sheep and his breeding principles were taken up, and in time were applied to all farm stock.

Thomas Bates (1776-1849) continued the work along with the Booth family (father, sons and grandsons) working from 1790-1878). The degree to which inbreeding was used can be seen from the pedigree of the famous bull “Belvedere, bred by Bates whose son (Favourite 252) had 53/64th of Belvedere’s blood, with one more 64th from Favourite’s mother.

Picture: Killerby Grange, Yorkshire. Home of the Booth Brothers

In the mid 1800s, breeders responded to a demand for beef from abroad which started to threaten emphasis on milk. But pioneering work was done in Scotland by Amos Cruikshank of Sittydon (1808-1895) who selected for milk production in his cattle and also bred them for the butcher. Later George Taylor of Cranford and Lord Rothschild of Tring built up Shorthorn dairy herds where carcass value was also improved. So these breeders were valiantly trying to select for both meat and milk traits in the same animals.

This made sense - to breed fast growing males and good milking females, and when the females had finished milking, they fattened quickly for beef. Unfortunately the result was the wrong combination – i.e. steers that wouldn’t fatten and heifers that wouldn’t milk, hence the criticism that “dual-purpose” was really “no-purpose”!

What really killed the Shorthorn in UK was the clear drive for more milk after the war and was the trigger for specialist dairy breeds like the Dutch Friesian (which became the British Friesian) to take over.

The Shorthorn survived, but only after being split into two separate breeds – the Beef Shorthorn and the Dairy Shorthorn, although they were still both registered in the same (Coates’s) herd book. Then a very productive dairy strain of Shorthorn developed in the Yorkshire and Durham Dales and in Cumberland where it was referred to and registered as the Northern Dairy Shorthorn (NDS). It was very popular and the Cumberland Farm Institute at Newton Rigg had a top herd.

The Lincoln Red Shorthorn evolved in East Anglia where a dual-purpose cow was ideal to turn arable farming byproducts into beef and milk. Up to 1935 they were recorded in their own herd book. They are a rich red colour (referred to as Lincoln Reds ) and today are classed as a "Rare Bred".

The Beef Shorthorn was always popular in Scotland and you would hear farmers refer to their “Scotch Shorthorn” and their noted “Scotch beef”. These cattle were regular prizewinners at the annual Smithfield Show in London.

But the most amazing thing about the Beef Shorthorn is the way it spread around the world and made massive contributions to beef production in North and South America, Africa and Australia where extremes from shimmering heat to below-zero cold were so very different from it’s native heath. The breed can still be found in these areas, and it may yet make a comeback with renewed interest in cattle that can perform on pasture, as world grain prices rise.

Beef Shorthorn genes have made a major contribution to other breeds such as the Luing in Scotland, Santa Gertrudis in the USA and the Queensland Red in Australia. In North America, Bates’s Shorthorns were probably some of the first to be imported, and in his book he refers to cattle being sold to the Ohio Agricultural Society about 1830. He even contemplated moving to America, and the book refers to “repeated statements of Bates that the Americans know the properties and value of improved Shorthorns better than in his own country”.

Bates observed that “in the United States and Canada short-horn cattle are not the fancy and hobby of a few gentlemen or noblemen of large fortune. They are the investments of highly educated and experienced and sensible men of business and commerce. He also found Americans free of the narrow prejudices and interested motives he encountered at home”. It seemed that he really liked the place, the people and the cattle!

In Canada the Beef Shorthorn (probably of Cruickshank origin) replaced the Texas Longhorn at the end of the 19th Century and the larger ranches used Shorthorns extensively right up to the 1930s when the Hereford took over.

In Australia, breeders in the Illiwarra area south of Sydney in New South Wales produced a smooth coated Dairy Shorthorn, mainly dark red in colour (like the Lincoln Red) with impressive performance in warm coastal conditions.

White Beef Shorthorn bulls were used widely in Britain to cross on to Galloway cows to produce what many considered the “Rolls Royce” of commercial beef cows – the “Blue-Grey”. We certainly make this claim in Northumberland where so many of them were bred and bought by beef farmers all over England for breeding cows. The Blue-Grey colour comes from their combined black and white hairs giving the impression of blue from a distance. They were mated to Aberdeen Angus bulls and all the offspring went for prime beef.

Breeders in Cumberland and the Hexham area of Northumberland were noted for producing these white Shorthorn bulls, and they were sometimes referred to as the “Cumberland” or “Hexham White Shorthorn”. Hexham was certainly an important market where they were sold.

Generations of us agricultural students had to suffer memorising Mendel’s coloured peas in basic genetics, and peas were definitely not our thing. But the inheritance of Shorthorn coat colour was more in our line of business, as in the 1950s the breed was still very popular. Here’s the outcome of crossing the different colours. The capital letter is used for the dominant allele and the small case letter for the recessive allele. The two alleles make up the “gene” for colour.

• Red bull (RR) x Red cow (RR) = all homozygous red offspring (RR) -(red allele is dominant)
• White bull (rr) x White cow (rr) = all homozygous white offspring (rr) -(white allele is recessive)
• Red bull (RR) x White cow (rr) = all heterozygous roan (Rr)
• White bull (rr) x Red cow (RR) – all heterozygous roan (Rr)
• Roan bull (Rr) x Roan cow (Rr) = 1 homozygous red (RR): 2 heterozygous roan (Rr): 1 homozygous white (rr). The phenotypic ratio (1:2:1) or what they look like is the same as the genetic ratio (what their genetic makeup is).

Further reading:
Sanders, E. (1951). A Beast Book for the pocket. The Vertebrates of Britain Wild and Domestic other than Birds and Fishes. (See chapter on cattle), Oxford University Press.

Dalton, D.C. (1980). An introduction to practical animal breeding.
Granada. ISBN 0-246-11194-1

Dr Malcolm Tait - Profile

by Clive Dalton

Malcolm Tait was born a “Geordie” on the outskirts of Newcastle upon Tyne, and after leaving school was able to claim “Northumbrian” status through his early work experience on farms at Rothbury and Stocksfield.

He graduated in agriculture from Kings College, Newcastle, (then the University of Durham), followed by a PhD on sheep nutrition under the supervision of Prof. Mac Cooper. The field work for his Ph.D was conducted at Cockle Park, and living in the ancient tower made him very aware of the significance of that rugged edifice in the defence of Northumberland and the sovereignty of England. He reckons that he served a three-year sentence in the “Tower”, followed by being sentenced to transportation to the 'colonies'!

His colonial sentence was to British Columbia, Canada, where he emigrated as a result of Mac Cooper’s worldwide communication network with Blythe Eagles, Dean of Agriculture at the University of British Columbia (UBC). Malcolm’s initial two-year contract became a very fulfilling and lifelong career in teaching and research in Agriculture at UBC.

His main research interests were the effects of processing grain supplements on the nutrition of ewes and lambs, and copper deficiency and toxicity in beef cattle and sheep. He is now in busy retirement where his special interests continue to be all things agricultural, Rover cars, and tracing his ancestors throughout the Scottish borders.

Malcolm has contributed a magnificent post to Woolshed 1 on the history of the Shorthorn Cattle breed and one of the pioneers of Northumbrian agricultural innovation Thomas Bates.

Northumbrian Farm Glossary - from Aad to Yowens

As a daft laddie in the 1950s (see the editor 2nd from right above at Demesne Farm in Bellingham, with l to r Jack & Bob Beattie; the local Sergeant; Willie Potts with Jock; and Ante Dagg), you could count on a fine schooling in the art of the proper farm talk required in the North Tyne. Fifty years on, to accompany the Daft Laddies book and the series of web posts on this blog, an extensive glossary was prepared. Rather than post it all here, I've put it up on a Google Knol (click here to read it).

If you need just a bit of quick translation, and can find nowt on the fancy Google Translate widget that will approximate the North Tyne language, it's probably best you make your way through this very special dictionary - each link is live below, and will take you to the letter you're after.

A - aad to aye
B - baalks to byorman
C - caa to cuwman
D - dadd to dyke
E - easin' to eye
F - fall to fummlin
G - gan to gye
H - haad to huw
I - illiven to ivribody
J - jaa
K - keb to kositos
L - lambin' to lugs
M - maaks to mule
N - neb to nuw
O - only to oxters
P - paaky to pund
Q - quart
R - rake to rutts
S - saa to syke
T - taalk to turnoot
U - there's nee u man!
V - there's nee v man!
W - wall to wrang
X - there's nee x man!
Y - yarkin' to yowens
Z - there's nee z man!

Daft Laddies - North Tyne Milking Farms

Daft Laddies. Farming Tales of North Tyne and Rede 50 years on.

By Clive Dalton and Donald Clegg

An extract from the book - Daft Laddies. Farming Tales of North Tyne and Rede 50 years on (2003) By Clive Dalton & Donald Clegg. If you would like a copy, contact donaldclegg@btopenworld.com

The call for milk
The North Tyne’s heather and bent land was sheep country, but in the 1940s and 1950s there were many farms that responded to the war and post-war cry for more food, especially milk, to feed a hungry nation.

Farms below Humshugh always milked cows where there was plenty gud grund to grow fothor (hay/straw) and roots (turnips/mangel) for the winter. But in those far off days, dairy cows were milked right up the valley from Kielder doon to Redesmouth. The table below is based on memory and a guestimate or two, so your verifications would be welcomed.

Hand milking
Electricity hadn’t reached the top end of the valley at this time so hand milking was the order of the day for farms above Bellingham. It was a great job on a cowld winter mornin’ snugglin’ up tiv an aad cuw with your peaked cap on backwards, provided she was a nice easy milker and she wasn’t yooky with lice. The area up atween the cuw’s bag and her back leg was a grand place to revive your frozen fingers before you started milking. But neebody gat upset when milking machines arrived - except the cuws for a day or two.

The milking machine
 All farms had a 'Simplex' model milking bucket plant machine.  After assembly, you carried the unit with the tubes and pulsator on the lid, in between each cow and milked each in turn.  When the can was full, you emptied it into a separate bucket to take to the cooler where the milk trickled down over a corrugated plate with cold water going through inside.  Then the milk flowed into the big churn to go off to the milk stand and be picked up by truck to go to the factory.  Other farms would take the churns to the station to go to the factory at Stocksfield.

Simplex milking machine bucket unit

 
Where did the milk go?
Well it was first siled (filtered), and then tipped into a small holding tank and run over a plate cooler. The cold water circulated inside the cooler as the milk flowed over the outside into a 10-gallon can. When full to the mark, the can had its lid brayed on and a label attached.

In the early days you had to take the cans to the nearest railway station by whatever means you had, horse and cart, Fergie tractor and milk box, motor bogie or barrow. But then road wagons collected it from milk stands at farm gates on the road side. Journey’s end for the milk was the Co-op Dairy in Stocksfield.

The cleaned and sterilised empty cans then came back and were collected when you delivered the full ones. There was a communal milk stand in Bellingham beside the Demesne farm for the Demesne, Foundry farm, Reenes and the Boat farm. It was a great spot to catch up with local scandal, and get your leg pulled about where yi’d been seen on Saturday night, and whee yi’d been seen wi! It made you review and improve your evasion plans for the following weekend!

Pickering the Hexham vet
Dairy farming resulted in a lot more work for the Hexham veterinarians (the Pickerings) who serviced the valley. Compared to beef cows, there were many more cases of “ewor clap” (mastitis), “splet tits” to stitch up when a cow stood on it’s bed mate’s delicate udder.

There was also milk fever and staggers when the cuw went doon and refused to get up. It was often assumed that a cow that couldn’t or wouldn’t get up was just being an akward lazy owld bitch! So an ancient trick to get her up was to take the cat by the tail and pull it back along the cow’s back so it stuck its claws in. That did nowt for the cow or the cat! The cure was a bottle of calcium or magnesium and not milking her for a day or so. And even blowing air into her udder with a bicycle pump was used to stop milk secretion.

A hingin cleanin was the worst problem. This retained afterbirth was dealth with by the poor vet having to strip off to his bare torso (often in a freezing byre) before feelin inside the cuw and fishin oot the stinking afterbirth. Sadly for us Daft Laddies there wor need women vets in them days.


Which breed?
There were constant arguments as to which was the best breed. The well-respected Shorthorn that evolved in County Durham was the obvious choice. There were dairy types of Shorthorn and places like the Cumberland where their county Farm Institute at Newton Rigg had bred noted strains, as well as breeders in the Allendale district.

The Shorthorn was classed as a “dual-purpose” breed as it provided both milk and beef which in the end was the main reason for its demise. Dual-purpose was seen by many as “nee porpose”. The heifers could throw to beef and the steers or bullocks were ower dairy type and wouldn’t fatten. Trying to keep the right balance got too complicated so it was easier to swallow your pride and change breeds to a real dairy type.

The Dutch Friesians were seen as muckle greet hungry brutes that milked weell but wud eat an eye o’ hay afore-noon, and fill fower barras o’ skitta eftor-noon. And another complaint was that theor tits wor like Porcy Bolam’s prize parsnips - far ower big and easy to get squeshed. Daft Laddies liked them for hand milking as you could get two hands on the one tit! These were not good when milking machines arrived.

Fettlin the owld byres
The dairy regulations required a lot of money to be spent on renovating the old byres and making a milk room for the cooler and sink to wash the dairy utensils and the milking machine. Many byres had to be gutted and concrete laid to replace the hardened muck floors. Many a North Tyne cuw-standin’ in a byre was just a railway sleeper to form the edge of the grip (muck channel), and accumulated solid dry muck for the cow to lie on. It was cheap and effective and a warm lie for a cuw, if perhaps not ower hygienic for the dairy regulations.

To comply with the law, the Milk Marketing Board’s Dairy Inspector (Miss Armstrong) had te cum from Hexham to approve the farm for a milk license, and for that you had to have cement rendered waalls up to a certain height, and there were specifications for the height of the back and front of the grip, and the faalls (slopes) on all the floors. And you had to have concrete divisions between cuws to replace the historic wooden stanchions, and much more.

At right of picture is the old 'dairy' at the Hott Farm which had to be built to keep Miss Armstrong happy! Don't think it would pass now.

Many a comment was made that with all this bureaucracy, the milk was nee cleanor than frae the owld byres sweethed in cobwebs! And of course every pint of milk had te gan in the can. You dare not sneak a bit of cream off the top of the can to put on your crowdy in winter, or strawberries in summer - at least not officially!

Changes in the valley
It brought about major changes in valley farming. More root crops (turnips, mangels and kale) had to be grown, and more cereals (oats and barley) for both grain and straw. The result was mare muck to spread back on the farm so more machinery had to be bought – and all this meant more work for farm staff. It was a time when more purchased artificial fertiliser (bag muck) had to be bought – which resulted in heavier hay crops that the old hands sartainly didn’t like in catchy weathor! The one big positive of those milking days was the farmers got a regular income which they had never had before.

It all ended about the early 1960s when farms went back to beef. The farmers and their families who worked long and hard in those dairy days should be proud of the contribution they and the valley made to Tyneside’s milk supply during the war and post-war years.

Monument needed
They deserve a monument in Bellingham, maybe where the old milk stand used to be at the Demesne. A silver milk can would be nice, surrounded by three or four figures filling their pipes or maybe taking a pinch of snuff from Dobbin’s shop, having a crack aboot we’s gittin away, we’s wife hes tean off wi’ the dip salesman from the Scotch side, and the middlin trade at the mart.

Daft Laddies - the Weightman’s hay rake

Daft Laddies. Farming Tales of North Tyne and Rede 50 years on.


By Clive Dalton and Donald Clegg



One thing guaranteed to lift the heart of anyone workin’ lowse or hired for the hay, was to knaa that the farm had some decent rakes and forks. This was because so much of haytime was handwork which could start with turning sweathes, kilin’, shekin’ oot, rekilin, rakin’ trails, pikin’, dressin’ doon pikes and stacks - and a whole lot more skills.

Even we Daft Laddies could appreciate what these experts and the resident hinds were on aboot. These connoisseurs of hand tools could rave on for hours about rakes and forks they'd met, while at the same time filling their pipes – a job ye’ll appreciate that could not be hurried.

These tales always started with the words - "Aye Aa mind the time Aa was hired at the So & So!” If this statement coincided with the baccy pooch cumin’ oot then you knew it was going to be a while before work resumed! That ‘threatnin’ shooer’ cumin doon the valley’ would just have to wait! We Daft Laddies didn’t mind this legitimate rest period, as it provided great material for our mimicking performances later.

While working as a daft laddie at the Demesne farm in Bellingham for many summers in the 1950s, I (CD) well remember a fork called "Tommy Hedley". It had been left by the Hedleys when the Beatties took the farm and it was revered, especially for forking corn. It had fine prongs, a smooth supple ash shank and was the Stradivarius of forks.

And oh man! One day helping at a threshin’ at the Reenes I broke the shank, forkin’ lowse oats and peas and trying to break some Daft Laddie record for stupidity! That horror still haunts me because the new shank from the Northern Farmers could never be the same! When I relate me sins to St Peter (or more likely Owld Nick), top of the list will be that "Aa brok Tommy Hedley"!

Rakes and forks
Rakes and forks were like fiddles in a way. Some played well, some canny and some were just plain numb. You could spend hours selecting a strite-grained shank but when you'd had it for a week or so, it was still not the Strad you'd been hoping for. You could get an owld fashioned waltz oot o' them, but they were hopeless for a hornpipe!

But hidden away up the North Tyne was a family that made the Strads of hayrakes! To find them you had to travel up to Lanehead on Norman's bus and knock on Weightman’s door. They were respected joiners and undertakers and used to make a tremendeous hay rake. The head, with 14 teeth nicely spaced and angled, was made of ash. The bow, a critical part for strength was also of ash. These bows were bent with steam and not cut so the long grain gave added strength.

The length of the ash teeth was critical to get a nice bite when pulled through the hayfield stubble, and the little chamfer on the end was an important touch to stop you getting catched in holes, mowdy hills and bull snoots. The angle they were set into the head was a very clever refinement too for efficient raking.

The long, 71-inch shank made of straight-grained pitch pine was a lovely feature, because in certain movements you delicately threw the rake forward to cover as much grund as possible before drawing it back. The shank was flattened and tapered to enter the head then squared off for the bow to go through, after which it was shaped not round but slightly oval. Now that was also a clever touch, as this was easier on the hands and gave a better grip, especially when racing to dodge that shooer cumin’ doon the valley.

But the overall pleasure of a Weightman's rake was its "balance" - a thing hard to describe but lovely to experience. A bit like a good dance partner for a polka! The rake was an instrument for the real craftsman who could make it sing and was the combination of lightness and strength that was the key, because a hand rake got a lot of use and abuse.

One minute you may be drawing in hay over rough ground rakin’ trails, and the next minute dressin’ doon the sides of a pike with great meaty whelts. Then you could even be rakin’ back heavy wet grass from in front of the cutter bar when mowing a laid crop, but it was best to use a very old rake for this as many a Daft Laddie managed by ower zealous rakin te git the mower to cut some teeth off! This practice was aaful hard on rakes.

On farms where grass was cut by a single-horse reaper with a three-foot cutter bar, the hay was often turned by hand rake before they had a horse drawn turner. It was here that you really appreciated a quality rake with good balance as you made rapid strokes, lifting the thick end of the sweeth over towards you while walking quickly forward in unison with others in the gang. It was a great job until your hands got covered in blushes!

We Daft Laddies used to spend time on wet days tryin’ te fettle broken rakes. It was always a botch of a job as you could never get them back owt near their pristine state. Milly Dagg of Stannersburn and Lawrence Dagg of the Hott remember the cost of a rake would be around twenty five shillings. If ye hev one lyin’ aboot, then contact the Bellingham Heritage Centre - urgently. They'll tek yor hand off and gie ye twenty five bob!

Daft Laddies - Corn Stacks

Daft Laddies. Farming Tales of North Tyne and Rede 50 years on.

By Clive Dalton and Donald Clegg

An extract from the book - Daft Laddies. Farming Tales of North Tyne and Rede 50 years on (2003) By Clive Dalton and Donald Clegg. If you would like a copy, contact donaldclegg@btopenworld.com

Corn stacks at Moat Hill farm, Wark, North Tyne in the 1950s

Tidy little roond corn stacks
When the boss declared that the corn was riddy te lead heme, it was a signal for the hind and the daft laddie to git away and sort the stackyard. The sheaves of corn would soon be coming in to be stacked and there was more air of excitement aboot. It was another opportunity for the hind to show his skill, and any hind worth his crowdy secretly saw this as a highlight of his year.

It was also a time for the Daft Laddie to larn, and we remember being all eyes and lugs in the expectancy that one day we could maybe clim doon the lang lethor from the top of a completed masterpiece that we had built. Sadly, we were beaten by mechanisation in the form of the combine harvester.

The size and shape of the stack was determined by the grain, how fit it was, and tradition. There was also the point about the stacks being seen from the bus or the train, remember! Your stacks made a public statement about your standards and skills. Very dry barley would go into suw (sow) stacks about 5 yards long which were the shape of the an Ethel Bell's white loaf. Oats that had been cut on the green side to make good fother, and maybe wor not ower dry, would gan inti tidy little roond stacks about 3 yards diameter that really challenged the stacker's art. Here's an attempt to describe it.

The bottom
The stackyard sometimes had permanent stack bottoms made of flat staenes raised about 10 inches high, or on some farms they had permanent staene trrestles like a round table about 18 inches off the ground. But to start on the flat ground you made a 3-yard diameter circle of old fence posts like spokes in a wheel, or laid maybe 3 rows of draining tiles on the grund (that rats loved). This was for ventilation and to stop the damp creeping into the stack and causing mould. On top about a foot depth of bedding was laid.

On top of the beddin’ you made a stook with about 6-8 sheaves and wapped some twine arroond them te stop them collapsin. This started to raise the middle of the stack for when you started to build. Now if there was one rule that all the hinds and Daft Laddies will aye remember - it was to"aalwes keep your middle fuu!" The reason was simple. Like the hay stack, if the middle was full, then every sheaf you laid would have the straw sloping to the outside so any wattor that gat in wad rrun strite oot.

The sheaf
Now the key to stacking was to recognise and use the shape of each individual sheaf. The bottom or butt end of the sheaf was beaten at an angle by the binder (Fig 1) to make stooking easier in the field.

So when you laid it to form the flat outside wall of the stack, the sheaf had to be laid at an angle (Fig 2).





The forst roond
For the forst roond, you made a complete circuit of the stack on the outside and then came back around again with an inner layer in the opposite direction to tie in the outside sheaves(Fig 3). A ventilation hole was sometimes made up the middle of the stack by filling a poke with hay and then pulling this up the middle as the stack grew. Sheaves were laid around this hole (Fig 4), which added a fair bit of extra challenge. And remember the mantra - "Aye keep the middle fuu!”

Keep ganin’ rroond
Once the middle was sorteed oot, then start again on the outside layers as before, changing direction every round or every second one. You can see what a tightly bound work of art developed on the inside, while the outside looked quite plain. Any lang straas or butt ends that stuck oot were beaten in with a battor - a small flat board on a long handle (Fig 5).


Layin’ the sheaves
The stacker worked on his knees and wore proper knee pads, or sacks tied aroond the knees. Leather straps (Nicky Tams) tied below the knees were a help to keep your breeks lowse so they wouldn't drag doon and wear. The straa was gae hard on breeks because the sheaves were not just flapped doon - they were grasped, squeezed and rolled and pressed into place with your hands, then your knees. All this added to the binding of the whole structure. The person forking or pitching the sheaves to the stacker had a responsible job too, as the stacker expected the sheaf to land right at his hand just ready to pick up. You got a gollarin or two if it landed the wrang way, or you twisted some of the straws in the sheaf – or knocked his cap off.

If you were pitching sheaves, the target was always changing as the load you stood on got lower, the stack grew taller, and the stacker kept moving around the stack. On really big stacks there was a person called the stack heedor (header) who did the final pitching to the stacker. The pitcher on the load pitched to the header. Some of the women folk were experts at pitching sheaves and loved the job. They were good for a bit of fun anaal, while waiting for the next load if ye didn't mind gittin’ yor lug cracked occasionally.

Layin’ oot
This was the process of making the base or leg of the stack quietly grow so that when the rain ran off the pitched roof, the wattor wouldn’t run doon the side of the stack. If the vicar wasn't aboot you would explain this as “stoppin’ the stack pittlin’ horsel."

Layin’ oot was a kittle business as if the stack grew ower fast, then you may have the humiliation of gittin’ some props in afore she couped or went flat like a failed Yorkshire puddin’. (Fig 6). Funny thing was that stacks, like ships, were always referred to as “her”!

If you had to use props, then it was important not to put them in ower tight because when the stack settled you would never get them oot again. That was a real humiliation as these props lasted right through to the threshin’ when they would sartinly be noticed. So the first thing a hind did when he got to work the next day was te gan away and ease the props if they had been needed, and git them oot as soon as possible.

Layin’ the easin’
The "easin’" was the start of the roof and a layer of sheaves was laid to protrude slightly over the edge of the leg to shed the rain. The easin’ was laid when the leg was about 10-12 feet high and was done by laying sheaves on edge with the "lang ends doon" (Fig 7). At this stage, if there was a hole up the middle, it could be covered over with sheaves.

The top
Next came the tricky job of building the top or roof of the stack, remembering that the whole row of stacks had to be identical when viewed from all angles. Also remember the critics in the bus and the train, and the hind’s reputation! The top could be the same height as the leg, but stacks with tops taller than the leg always looked more dramatic and reflected your advanced skill. But mair roof meant mair theak and maire ropes remember – aall costing time and muney!

Layin’ in
The angled shape of the sheaf butt was also used to make the slope of the roof (Fig 8). This was “layin’ in” which was the opposite process to “layin’ oot”. However, the slope could be modified by giving the bottom of each sheaf a dadd before you laid it to alter the angle if it didn't suit you. The main point was that the sheaf was laid on its back and the same procedure followed to bind them all in as in the leg - ganin aroond in different directions and keepin the middle fuu.




Toppin’ out
Toppin’ oot could be a kittle business anall as there wasn't much room to work. A good dry stack had a fair bit of boonce which added to the fun. The easiest way was to top-oot with a forkfu’ or two of straw or bedding, to get a good round top to shed the rain like in a hay stack. You stood on the top until all was finished and shooted for the lang lethor. The top of hay was dressed with a rake to help shed wattor and tied on with some short ropes until the stack was covered.

Coverin’ or theakin’ (thatching)
If corn stacks had to stand a fair time before threshing, then they had to be properly covered or thaeked to keep out the winter weather. Covering was left to the end of harvest before the bad weather set in, and the key was to get some nice strraa or mebbe you would hev te gan away and cut sum reshees. The reshees were usually found on some wet bit of land or on the fell. They had to be good and long and without ower much grass in the bottom. That made them hard to cut with the scythe and meant mair work to clean them off.

The best reshees were those growing in deepish water, although cutting them meant wading aboot up to or ower yor wellie tops. Once a good area had been cut, the reshees were gathered up into sheaves, just like corn, except each handfull as it was picked up was whacked against your leg to get rid of the grass and short straws before layin’ it down on to the sheaf-to-be.

Next, two more handfulls were whacked then their tops knotted together to make a band which was wrapped round the sheaf, the ends twisted together and tucked under. All the sheaves were then carted back to the stackyard to be stored until needed.

It was great if some of the first stacks were threshed straight away to give some fresh bottles of straw to use as thatch for those threshed later. Straa was a lot nicer to use than reshees as it was very slippy when newly cut. It was best to leave straw bottles until the shine got off them. If the stacks needed protection for only a short period, and you didn't want all the work of covering them, then you could use a technique of letting some sheaves stick out in each layer so they hung down like thatch (Fig 9). It looked a bit of a rough job and wasn't popular with the experts.
Maekin’ the stingin’s or stobs
A “stinging” was a lump of covering or thatch that you pushed or "stobbed" into the butt ends of the sheaves in the roof. The thatch wasn't just laid on - it was actually pushed into the butt end of the laid sheaves so that the wind wouldn’t blaa it off.

To make a stingin’ you got a bottle of straa and pulled straa oot of it at both the ends with both hands. Literally drawing straws. You then put these together and maybe drew some more until you had a nice fat handful. You did the same with reshees.

Then you wrapped one end into a sort of knot and there you were, (Fig 10). You pushed this knot into the stack and let the lang ends hing doon. You had a short hazel stick to dress off any lowse strraas as you worked around the roof. The stingin’s were like tiles on a roof (Fig 11). When you got to the top, your artistic flare could then run rampant by tying the straw into a knob or a cock pheasant or owt you dare risk to impress your critics.

Roping
This was a delicate job and started with a girth or belly rope (Fig 12). All the other ropes were tied to this anchor. The ropes around the roof were called sweape ropes and started at one point and swept around the stack (Fig 13). When a series of these had been tied, the effect was that of a net (Fig 14).
When ready-made nets became available, then people opted for these as it saved hours of time as you just hoyed the net ower and hung a few horse shoes around the bottom until you got time to tie it down properly. Some of the old school considered nets to be almost cheating.

The final dressin’
The final dressin’ was where the real expert could win the day with some artistry. It was an art akin to dressin’ tups! Any lowse ends on the leg were again treated with the battor and then trimmed off with an old pair of sheep shears. Now the master stackers were not content with that. They got an old scythe blade and literally shaved the leg of the stack. The edge of the thatch around the easing was critical. If that was not level you really got your lugs chowed.

So now, all that there was te dee was te gethor up aa' the slaistor, ease the props and stand back and bask in a bit of self admiration. The highest accolade you would expect to hear was "Aye, gay tidy Jock, gay tidy."

Oh, there was one other thing. It was to hope that at that moment of the hind's glory or very soon after that the vicar, the bank manager, Bella big-gob from The Nettles and Hamish the hind from Mowdysike would just happen to be gannin’ past in the bus!

It always seemed sic a waste though, that these works of art, in only a few months, would aall be pulled te bits and swalleyd doon the drum o' Billy Irvine's thresher!

Daft Laddies - Lost farms of Tyne & Rede

Northumberland, farming, history, dialect, forestry, Daft Laddies

By Clive Dalton and Don Clegg

The forested North Tyne hills

The forgotten past
A ride up the upper North Tyne valley or the Rede today will tell you little of its past farming history. There’ll be no sight or sound of the heords, the hinds, the lambing men, the lowse men, the servant lassies or the daft laddies who worked and raised families on the ootbye farms. The blanket of Spruce, Sitka and Larch has covered over this great skelp of agricultural history.

The folk who were born ootbye or knew these farms well are now few and far between. There is little written history and few photographs of the lives of the people who heorded the Blackface and Cheviot sheep on these fells, educated their bairns at local schools, sold their stock at Bellingham mart, and supported the local agricultural shows.

This W.P. Collier photo of the Hott school in 1928 shows many of the young folk from the outbye farms that disappeared under the forest.  The furthest away children came by pony and bicycle, and closer ones walked.  The teachers are Miss Dagg (on right) and Miss Cousin ( by the door). The school is now the farm cottage for the Hott farm.

Europe’s greatest man-made forest has covered up their work place and with it a whole lump of Northumberland’s history. We felt it was important to remember these farms, famed for offering grand stock for sale at Bellingham mart.

Young trees on Chirdon, 1955

Birth of the Forestry Commission
In 1910 the Board of Agriculture & Fisheries saw Upper Tynedale as a likely area for forestation, and with the Forestry Commission’s birth in 1919, things progressed so that in 1926 they took out a lease on 45 acres of Smale at 2 shillings/acre for a trial. Initial results were satisfactory so this was the start of what today has become the largest man-made forest in Europe of approximately 50,000 hectares.

In 1930 with the death of the 8th Duke of Northumberland, further forest expansion took place with the sale of the estate’s Kielder farms to pay death duties. The Forestry Commission bought the land for planting and the rest is history. Now many of these areas have grown their second crop of trees.

Which farms were buried under the green carpet?
Here’s a list of nearly 100 - which to anyone who used to attend Bellingham marts in those early days or finds an old sale catalogue, will bring back memories, not just of the great sheep that used to loup into the ring as the gate was lifted, but of the great Northumbrians in their mart suits and caps, oiled Rogerson’s boots, polished leather leggings and grand dressed sticks who followed them in.

The hills before the trees. An old W.P. Collier photo - place unknown.






















Comment from Richard Brown, MRICS, FAAV
The Office, South Bellshill, Belford, Northumberland, NE70 7HP
 Tel: 01668 213 546             Mobile: 07974 706 133

My family and I were brought up farming a place called Langleeford – a large hill sheep farm in the Cheviot Hills. Hence my interest in your article – I spent many a long day at Bellingham Mart as a boy!Perhaps someone may have contacted you already but I thought I should to let you know that the black and white image of a farm in your blog titled; “The hills before the trees. An old W.P. Collier photo - place unknown”…is in fact called Greenside Hill and is in the Breamish Valley approximately 5 miles west of a village called Powburn. The farm belongs to Lord James Percy (The Duke of Northumberland’s Brother) and is lived in by his head gamekeeper John Queen
 What I thought you may also be interested to know is the fact there are actually no trees planted at the farm nor anywhere near the property – still actively farmed land which is good.

 
 The farms are listed in broad areas in the table. On some farms only part was planted.

 

Lost flocks
It’s hard to estimate how many sheep went off these farms - maybe between 50,000 and 60,000 breeding ewes? But there are probably more sheep in these valleys today because of the way sheep farming has changed. Stocking rates (sheep/acre rather than acres/sheep) have changed and so have breeds. There’s more sheep now on the better land producing more lambs, which are fattened on the farm. In the old days this didn’t happen and they were sold as stores for fattening down country – and doon sooth!

At Bellingham mart in 1938, Messrs Iveson and Walton held a special sale of 6,700 Blackface ewes and the Hexham Courant reported that the previous day there had been “a very large company of buyers with a sheep sale and show acknowledged to be the best ever seen this side of the Border”. Uncrossed ewes sold for 22s.6d to 25.10d each. (£1.12p to £1.30p).

In contrast, at the Bellingham mart in September 1995, Hexham and Northern marts offered 16,655 sheep of which 3,985 were Blackface and Swaledale ewes; but these sheep were from a vastly wider area than in those early days. They didn’t have to waalk te the mart! Prices ranged from £22 to £69. But clearly the old Blackie yowe has suffered a mass evacuation from the North Tyne, Wark’s Burn and Rede.

In the early days on ootbye farms no artificial fertilisers were used. The byre and hemmel muck was used on the hayfields and maybe a bit of lime now and again so the stocking rate on these hard hill farms was very low.

The late Willie Robson, whose family farmed Willow Bog, said the hill farms were stocked at one sheep to 2-2.5 acres. Willow Bog had 60 score including hoggs on 3,200 acres. Shilburnhaugh had 15 score on just over 560 acres. Sheep stocks which were usually “tied” on the farm were counted in scores. (1 score = 20 sheep).

The final drowning
In 1980 the Kielder dam drowned the remaining sheep farms at Yarrow, Shilburnhaugh haughs, Emmethaugh, Whickhope, Otterson Lea Haughs, Mounces, Wellhaugh, the low end of Plashetts Farm, Bewshaugh and part of Gowanburn.

FURTHER INFORMATION/REFERENCES


Charlton, Beryl. (1987).  Upper North Tynedale. A Northumbrian valley and its people.
Published by Northumbrian Water.
ISBN 0 9512337 1 8.

Owen, S.F. (1996). Northumbrian Heritage 1912-1937.  The photographs of W. P. Collier of
Bellingham.  ISBN 1-899506-25- X.  Keepdate Publishing.

Owen, S.F. (1996).  North Tyne Traveller 1912-1937.  The photographs of W. P. Collier of
Bellingham. No ISBN number.  Publisher: Keepdate.

Gard, R. (1978). Northumberland Yesteryear.  An album of photographs of life in Northumberland between 1860 and 1930.  ISBN 0-85983-107-8.  Northumberland Local History Society.  Publisher: Frank Graham.

Gard, R. (1981). Northumberland Memories. An album of photographs of life in Northumberland between 1860 and 1950.  ISBN 0-85983-191-4.  Association of Northumberland Local History Societies.  Publisher: Frank Graham.

Wilson, K; Leathart, S. (1982). The Kielder forests. A Forestry Commission Guide. ISBN 0-85538-099-3.

 

Stoker, D. (1982).  A short history of Kielder Water Scheme. Publisher: Northumbrian Water Authority.

McCord, N. (1982). An introduction to the history of Upper North Tynedale.  Publisher: Northumbrian Water Authority.

The Cockle Park Song

By Clive Dalton (student of Cockle Park, 1952-1956)

The history of the song is unknown, and was passed down through generations of students. It must be sung with great gusto to the hymn tune – Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

A special day for its robust singing in my time as a student was on May Day (May 1) when the Department of Fine Arts next door to the Agriculture Department used to assemble a small choir on the roof of their building to sing madrigals! Madrigals!

This was too much for us Agrics and they had to be drowned out!

Lime and lime with no manure
Makes both farm and farmer poor.
When the wind blows from the east
Then ‘twill rain two days at least.
Basic slag and wild white clover
Now renowned the whole world over.
Cur-sed be the clumsy clot
Who’s never heard of Treefield Plots.
Hark the herald angels sing
Basic slag is just the thing.

You must try these famous seeds
That supply all farming needs.
Gilchrist’s mixture fine and rare
Smoked by farmers everywhere.
Acclamation from the nation
For our class two weather station.
Those who would their tutors please
Get genned up on Palace Leas!
Hark the herald angels hark
Glory be to Cockle Park.

Extra verses were composed in 1954 by students in my year after the arrival of Prof Mac Cooper from Wye College – and the excitement of the unknowns he had in store for our futures. The chief organiser of the new words was the late Henry Pickering from Weardale.

Now the new Dean’s here to stay
Palace Leas may grow no hay.
Pigs and poultry there you’ll find
Nowt but pork and bacon rind.
Treefield’s reign is now all over
Now will grow no more white clover.
Those who would Prof Cooper please
Had better watch their Qs and Ps.
Hark the herald angels shout
Cockle Park turns inside out.

Footnote: here's a photo of the great Mac Cooper back in NZ at the Ruakura Research Centre in Hamilton, visiting old student Clive Dalton (right) and with Mike Adams (left), in April 1980.

Northumberland's Cockle Park Experimental Station

BOOK TITLE
Cockle Park Farm. An account of the work of the Cockle Park Experimental Station from 1896-1956 by H Cecil Pawson. Published 1960. Oxford University Press.

Professor H Cecil Pawson, MBE, DSc, FRSE

 Cockle Park tower built for defence against the raiding Scotts in 1300 and for student accommodation in the 1950s

Armstrong College in Newcastle upon Tyne opened a School of Agriculture in 1896 and five years later experiments started at Cockle Park north of Morpeth in Northumberland by Professor William Somerville, the first Professor of Agriculture. His main challenge was to improve the large areas of poor grassland in the northern counties of Britain and his research showed spectacular results were achieved with the phosphate-rich industrial waste product "basic slag" from iron smelting.

Somerville was followed at Armstrong College in 1899 by Thomas Middleton who revolutionised agricultural education at the college, and set up the famous King's College Agricultural Society built on old students as they progressed into the industry.

Prof Gilchrist

Research continued under Professor Douglas Gilchrist (Science Director) by advocating ploughing up old pastures and sowing new grass and clover mixtures. The Cockle Park seeds mixture became famous world wide, as well as showing the importance of wild white clover in pastures.

 Cockle Park Seed's mixture
Generations of students have had to learn the "Cockle Park Seed's mixture" off by heart. There were many modifications added to suit different conditions, but this was the core one.

• 12 lb Perennial ryegrass
• 10 lb Cocksfoot
• 4lb Timothy
• 4lb English red clover
• 4lb Wild white clover

Later in history, Armstrong College became part of the University of Durham and the Department became the School of Agriculture. The School eventually became part of Newcastle University.

Appendix II of Prof Pawson's book is about the history of the Cockle Park Tower showing a print of it in 1774. It is a classic example of the peel towers or Border fortresses which covered the marches on both sides of the Border during the period of conflict.


Prof Mac Cooper
Another great source of information about Cockle Park is the biography of Professor M.M Cooper who came to Kings College from the Chair of Agriculture at Wye College in 1953 to be Dean of Agriculture so was in charge of the teaching and research programme, the commercial farm at Nafferton and the Experimental Station at Cockle Park.

Mac Cooper - A biography by John Craven.
Published 2000. The Pentland Press Ltd.
ISBN 1-85821-807-1



Always Your Friend. A personal appreciation of H Cecil Pawson by Reverend Edwin Thompson. Publishing Date unknown.










 The Cockle Park song
 It's not known who composed the original Cockle Park song, but singing it was a right of passage of all Agric students, along with many other classics. Here is the original from the Agric's Song Book.

 When Prof Cooper came up from Wye College to be Dean at Kings, he started making major changes to Cockle Park, some of which were welcomed and some not.

This took place in my third and fourth year (1954-55), and our class was instrumental in adding new verses to the song. - verses 3, 4 and 5.  The leader of the song changes was Henry Pickering, but we all added suggestions to the final version below.

It was always sung with great gusto to the tune of Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Thanks to Dr Deric Charlton for supplying this copy, obviously typed in the days before word processors!

We were all in awe of Prof Mac to the point of worshiping his every word.  Like a good Kiwi he was a great user of the word 'good'  - things he described as being good.  So that's why it's in the poem. And of course he was always quoting research from a place called Ruakura in New Zealand by his mate CP McMeekan.
So Ruakura again was a regular target for our mimicry.  Little did I realise that it would one day become my workplace, at the other side of the world far from that lecture room in the Ag School at King's College, University of Durham in Newcastle upon Tyne!