By Clive Dalton
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A hay rake used to row up the hay from windrows. You walked behind this model pulling a lever to raise the tines. Other models you rode on a seat and worked the tipping lever from there. |
A welcome sight
It was always a
welcome sight during hay time when we saw helpers turning up from the village
to lend us a hand with the haymaking.
They came after finishing their full time day’s work on the railway, the
roads or in the village businesses.
Most village folk in
the 1950s and 1960s had done some farm work in their lives, so they knew how to
handle a rake and a fork, and never lost these skills. In return for their work, those with
gardens or allotments were paid with a good big load of hemmel (covered yard) manure
in the autumn, so it would rot away nicely before spring planting of their
vegetables. Any village ‘professionals’
were happy to be rewarded by the opportunity to get some fresh air and exercise
on a summer’s evening - and for the ‘crack’!
Their help from late
afternoon till evening, fitted in well with the hay making routine, and
included the evening time of most midge savagery,.
Mowing and turning
Grass was cut in the
early morning when moist from dew so it cut easily, and before the sun started to
warm up – hopefully. In the horse
era this was cool for the heavy work of pulling the mower.
Then the grass cut the
previous day or days, and depending on the weather, was turned about 11am when
the horses had been given time for a rest and feed after mowing, and before
being yoked into the hay turner which was much lighter work. When tractors arrived – which was a
slow process up the North Tyne, this was not an issue.
The turned swaths were
then left to bake in the sun with farm staff going around with a fork and
‘shekin up’ any thick bits the turner had not teased out. The ‘double swath (‘double sweeth’)
around the outside of the field was an area that always needed a good shake out
(‘shek oot’) with the fork.
Windrowing
By mid afternoon the crackling
dry hay (hopefully) would be ready to rake up into windrows. If there was time,
these would be checked for lumps that had not dried properly.
By late afternoon,
after the afternoon tea had been welcomed, it was time to get ready to sweep
the hay in the windrows into large heaps that were used material to make the
pikes.
It was for piking that
extra help was appreciated and you kept your eye open with keen anticipation to
see which helpers appeared all keen to get into the action. The main thing about this from the
‘Daft Laddies’s’ view was that the more help that arrived, the sooner you would
get finished, and well before the moon arose! We used to say ‘thank God for dark’ as you kept going till
the job was finished.
Farm regulars
Farms had their
regular helpers who looked forward to hay time and the rituals that went with
it. Here’s a list of a few in the
Bellingham and Reedsmouth area that I was involved with from childhood to
student days. They were all great
friends and mentors.
Farm
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Farmer
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Helper
|
Helpers job
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Blakelaw
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John & Lance
Riddle
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Tommy Davidson
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Railway surfaceman
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Demesne
|
Bob& Jack
Beattie
|
Jack Maughan
|
Bank clerk
|
Willie Potts
|
Retired farmer
|
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Foundry
|
Geordie Breckons
|
Harry Dalton
Jake Cowan
|
Railway guard
Wagon driver
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Redesmouth
|
Robert Allen
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Jim Swanson
|
Engine driver
|
Robson girls
|
Retired farmers
|
||
Dove Cottage
|
James Wood
|
Jimmy Cairns
|
Railway surfaceman
|
Learning skills
Many of us children
would join these willing helpers, mainly to have fun among the hay and to
scrounge some late afternoon tea.
If there was a spare rake you were allowed to use it under careful
supervision, living in fear that you would break a tooth through your
behaviour. They were strict
teachers of the art of handling tools.
Piking
And the helpers were
skilled at piking, and making sure you carried out the rituals to the letter,
especially if you were forking hay up to a man who stood on the pike to ‘poss doon’
(consolidate) the hay to the very last forkful. And also when you were raking the sides of the pike so all
straws were facing down to shed off the rain (‘dressin doon’), you didn’t over
do things so a side of the pike fell out and brought down the person on top.
I learned these fine
arts from about 7 years of age at Dove Cottage small farm, where Jimmy Cairns
was an expert in making possed (compressed) pikes. He was a big man but had wonderful balance when the last
part of the pike’s top was being completed.
He had an unfortunate
stutter so his request for ‘another smaaa ffffffforkfu’ was slow to
arrive! He described it as the
size of a hen’s nest, which you had to deliver with great precision so not to
poke him in the foot with the fork tines.
When haste was needed
because of doubtful weather, we usually make pikes ‘built on the trail’, which
was where you used the swept heap of hay as the base, making sure it did not
come adrift when you had the pike half built.
The farm women folk
Generally the helpers
were mainly men, as the women on the farm were the key to preparing and
bringing out the food for afternoon tea.
They often stayed on to help if they could see the pressure was on
because rain was on its way.
They were equally
skilled as the men but concentrated on the lighter jobs like hand ‘raking the
trails’ which was the hay left after the windrows had been swept. Every straw was precious!
A few local women who
during the war had been in the Land Army would come and help just for the
enjoyment and memories of more worrying times.