Denys McCracken
Denys was a great Northumbrian who moved to New Zealand, 12,000 miles away from the hills and haughs he worked on as a Daft Laddie, to milk cuws and grow Kiwifruit before retiring to turn wood and play bowls.
I got him to write down a few notes of his days when he wore 'Simonside, Heathor Lowper' beuts and smoked strang baccy in a rosewood pipe – and I think you’ll agree that these true tales make a grand read.
We removed the names of the farms and the farmer’s, just in case any are up in the hayfield with St Peter, sittin ahint the dyke sucking on their pipes with thor lugs cocked!
Denys sadly passed away in Tauranga, New Zealand, in January 2009.
Clive Dalton
Showing posts with label denys mccracken. Show all posts
Showing posts with label denys mccracken. Show all posts
September 18, 2008
Denys McCracken: Daft Laddie Days – Hay time
By Denys McCracken
Hay time
When the hay time came round the boss I worked for had no tractors and it was all horse work and man power. The rabbit virus myxamatosis had been rampant in the district so when you hoisted a forkful of hay above your head, pieces of rotten rabbit fell oot and doon your neck. Revolting to say the least!
Anyway, first there was the annual ritual of taking the hay forks out of the cupboard and oiling the shanks. They were God knows how old – certainly generations.
Nobody told this Daft Laddie how to use a fork correctly so trying to fork muckle forkfuls, I stuck the fork into the hay, then with both hands on the end I used it as a lever to raise it.
Of course the result was – "snag" and "snap". Then came the abuse for my ignorance, while the boss conveniently forgot that he had not told me what I should do – to have one hand on the end and the other down the shank to act as the fulcrum. The Daft Laddie confirmed his status once again.
Hay time
When the hay time came round the boss I worked for had no tractors and it was all horse work and man power. The rabbit virus myxamatosis had been rampant in the district so when you hoisted a forkful of hay above your head, pieces of rotten rabbit fell oot and doon your neck. Revolting to say the least!
Anyway, first there was the annual ritual of taking the hay forks out of the cupboard and oiling the shanks. They were God knows how old – certainly generations.
Nobody told this Daft Laddie how to use a fork correctly so trying to fork muckle forkfuls, I stuck the fork into the hay, then with both hands on the end I used it as a lever to raise it.
Of course the result was – "snag" and "snap". Then came the abuse for my ignorance, while the boss conveniently forgot that he had not told me what I should do – to have one hand on the end and the other down the shank to act as the fulcrum. The Daft Laddie confirmed his status once again.
Denys McCracken: Daft Laddie Days – Clean vegetables
By Denys McCracken
Clean vegetables
I next got a job as a hill shepherd on a farm near Kelso on the owld enemy's side of the Border, where I moved in with Geordie the hind and his family.
Geordie had a pretty good vegetable garden and one day when some Americans were passing, the lady admired it and said "How wonderful to grow your own vegetables - how do you sterilize them"?
Geordie was at bit of a loss for a moment and then said "I tell you waat, Aall let ye intiv a bit secret. Aa sterilize the soil before Aa plant them."
The lady was thrilled saying "Gee Dad, we'll do our whole garden when we get back to the US."
Clean vegetables
I next got a job as a hill shepherd on a farm near Kelso on the owld enemy's side of the Border, where I moved in with Geordie the hind and his family.
Geordie had a pretty good vegetable garden and one day when some Americans were passing, the lady admired it and said "How wonderful to grow your own vegetables - how do you sterilize them"?
Geordie was at bit of a loss for a moment and then said "I tell you waat, Aall let ye intiv a bit secret. Aa sterilize the soil before Aa plant them."
The lady was thrilled saying "Gee Dad, we'll do our whole garden when we get back to the US."
Denys McCracken Daft Laddie Days – Tipsy porker
By Denys McCracken.
Geordie the hind decided that as he had spare milk from the house cow, he would get a pig to fatten for a bit of home-fed bacon. As the Daft Laddie I was instructed to clean up the old pig sty which had not been used for many a day. When Geordie got back with the pig it was put in and the door bolted and off we went for a cuppa.
Later after going around the sheep, Geordie went to feed the pig and on opening the door burst out laughing. The pig ran out totally out of control and off its legs, high as kite and drunk to the world. I had not cleaned out the trough and the apple tree above it had dropped a lot of windfalls into it and with the addition of rainwater had fermented over time making a pretty powerful brew of cider. We had the happiest pig north of the Border.
Geordie the hind decided that as he had spare milk from the house cow, he would get a pig to fatten for a bit of home-fed bacon. As the Daft Laddie I was instructed to clean up the old pig sty which had not been used for many a day. When Geordie got back with the pig it was put in and the door bolted and off we went for a cuppa.
Later after going around the sheep, Geordie went to feed the pig and on opening the door burst out laughing. The pig ran out totally out of control and off its legs, high as kite and drunk to the world. I had not cleaned out the trough and the apple tree above it had dropped a lot of windfalls into it and with the addition of rainwater had fermented over time making a pretty powerful brew of cider. We had the happiest pig north of the Border.
Denys McCracken: Daft Laddie Days - Nee teeth man!
By Denys McCracken
Nee teeth man!
Many people used to go for a walk up the valley and when we were clipping some more Americans stopped to watch. They asked if the sheep ever bit the clipper so quick as a flash, Geordie pointed at some rusty old pliers on the wall and said that he pulled out all their teeth while I held them. They did not believe him so he opened the sheep's mouths to be shown no teeth in their top jaw!
(Sheep, cattle and all ruminants have no top teeth!)
Denys McCracken: Daft Laddie Days – Settin' the garden
By Denys McCracken
Settin' the garden
Then a layer of good rotted muck was place in the trench and one handful per yard (and nee mare) of "tornip manure" was applied. The seed tetties were placed in this trench exactly ten inches apart. Then the line was moved and the whole process repeated across the garden.
Aa was ganin weel and was half way across the patch and came up against the previous year's Brussel sproots. They looked old and finished to me so I pulled them out and hoyed them ower the wall into the close for the tups. Well, the old man nearly had a fit when he found out, as evidently there were two or three sprouts left! The sproots wor histry man – and I came close to joining them!
A month later I was muckin' oot the hemmels when doon the yard came the owld boss, never saying a word and grabbed me lug and hingin on led me up the yard in front of all the other men and into the garden where the tetties were all bursting through in nice neat rows.
He pointed at one which was out of line by a couple of inches and he demanded to know why. I said perhaps the shoot was crooked which seemed a reasonable explanation. Well, I honestly thought he was going to die of apoplexy on the spot. He thundered eventually - "Git oot of me sight"!
Settin' the garden
Then a layer of good rotted muck was place in the trench and one handful per yard (and nee mare) of "tornip manure" was applied. The seed tetties were placed in this trench exactly ten inches apart. Then the line was moved and the whole process repeated across the garden.
Aa was ganin weel and was half way across the patch and came up against the previous year's Brussel sproots. They looked old and finished to me so I pulled them out and hoyed them ower the wall into the close for the tups. Well, the old man nearly had a fit when he found out, as evidently there were two or three sprouts left! The sproots wor histry man – and I came close to joining them!
A month later I was muckin' oot the hemmels when doon the yard came the owld boss, never saying a word and grabbed me lug and hingin on led me up the yard in front of all the other men and into the garden where the tetties were all bursting through in nice neat rows.
He pointed at one which was out of line by a couple of inches and he demanded to know why. I said perhaps the shoot was crooked which seemed a reasonable explanation. Well, I honestly thought he was going to die of apoplexy on the spot. He thundered eventually - "Git oot of me sight"!
Denys McCracken: Daft Laddie Days – First job - dipping
By Denys McCracken
First job - dipping
My first experience of any note was dipping. They had a tick-infested farm requiring a spring dipping to kill the brutes before they spread from ewe to lamb taking the virus disease "loupen ill" with them. So this meant that all the sheep on the farm all with a full heavy fleece had to be manhandled backwards into the dipper, and pushed fully under by Tom the shepherd standing in a hole beside the long bath.
The wool especially on the older pregnant yowes was not incredibly strong after the winter, so to pull them out of dip they sometimes needed Tom's help to climb the ramp and stand in the draining pen for while.
We were dipping the Blacface tups two of which were twins and they had very wide sets of horns. One of them got very worked up when in a small pen with only a few sheep and he saw man as his enemy. So he tended to charge, which could be quite uncomfortable if he caught you in some vulnerable part.
I thought I had grabbed the mad tup with the more sensible one left in the pen. I had just hauled him backwards by his loins waiting while Tom down in the hole was turning the previous one over ready to walk out.
Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a tup charging, and instinctively grabbed for his horns. He hit me behind the knees and over I went on top of the tup I had just pushed into the dip, and he landed right on top of me.
What a tidal wave followed in the battle to git oot of the foul dung-stained chemical brew before drowning with the tup! The smell clung to me for days no matter how many baths I had to try to get rid of it. I noticed that I didn't attract servant lassies or blue bottles for weeks!
First job - dipping
My first experience of any note was dipping. They had a tick-infested farm requiring a spring dipping to kill the brutes before they spread from ewe to lamb taking the virus disease "loupen ill" with them. So this meant that all the sheep on the farm all with a full heavy fleece had to be manhandled backwards into the dipper, and pushed fully under by Tom the shepherd standing in a hole beside the long bath.
The wool especially on the older pregnant yowes was not incredibly strong after the winter, so to pull them out of dip they sometimes needed Tom's help to climb the ramp and stand in the draining pen for while.
We were dipping the Blacface tups two of which were twins and they had very wide sets of horns. One of them got very worked up when in a small pen with only a few sheep and he saw man as his enemy. So he tended to charge, which could be quite uncomfortable if he caught you in some vulnerable part.
I thought I had grabbed the mad tup with the more sensible one left in the pen. I had just hauled him backwards by his loins waiting while Tom down in the hole was turning the previous one over ready to walk out.
Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a tup charging, and instinctively grabbed for his horns. He hit me behind the knees and over I went on top of the tup I had just pushed into the dip, and he landed right on top of me.
What a tidal wave followed in the battle to git oot of the foul dung-stained chemical brew before drowning with the tup! The smell clung to me for days no matter how many baths I had to try to get rid of it. I noticed that I didn't attract servant lassies or blue bottles for weeks!
Denys McCracken: Daft Laddie Days – The secret stitch in time was fund oot!
By Denys McCracken.
The secret stitch in time was fund oot!
The secret stitch in time was fund oot!
The shepherd on a farm I worked on was from Harbottle and he had married a lass whose fathor was a pitman from Seaton Sluice. One day they were going to see the family for the day and I was left with the firm instructions – "Nuw divn't let that collie pup in the hoose or it'll chow something up."
Later in the day I was washing my car and I had left the door into the kitchen open. The pup was playing around beside me and I suddenly noticed a feather on his nose. I looked around the corner and there was this cushion off the chair facing the door in the kitchen in pieces. I quickly gathered it up and phoned my mother who I knew was coming up to see me in the afternoon. I asked her to bring a needle and white thread.
She duly arrived and went to work on the cushion and we placed it carefully back on the chair. Actually it was not a major restoration as only the hem stitches on the opening side of the cover opening had been broken. Mother made what I thought was a perfect job.
But would you believe it: when the shepherd's missus walked in that evening, she said – "You let that pup in the hoose didn't ye and it's been at that cushion. That's not my stitching on the hem"! Eagle eyes I can tell you.
Denys McCracken: Daft Laddie Days – The mystery Cornel
By Denys McCracken
The mystery Cornel
Hawick mart had a lot of auctioneers in those days as it was a very large mart. During one of the Cheviot tup sales a man was buying all the expensive tups and collecting "luck money" from the breeders.
He said he was buying for a "Colonel somebody-or-other" up North who was clearly a well-known buyer so nobody worried. As the day wore on, his tally got bigger and bigger but at the end of the day none of his tups had been taken away, and none of the haulers had been hired to remove them.
Eventually he was found living it up in Hawick and turned out to be an electrician. He had not technically broken the law as he had removed nothing from the sale and had been given the luck money by the breeders The breeders still had their tups to take home but minus the luck money.
The mystery Cornel
Hawick mart had a lot of auctioneers in those days as it was a very large mart. During one of the Cheviot tup sales a man was buying all the expensive tups and collecting "luck money" from the breeders.
He said he was buying for a "Colonel somebody-or-other" up North who was clearly a well-known buyer so nobody worried. As the day wore on, his tally got bigger and bigger but at the end of the day none of his tups had been taken away, and none of the haulers had been hired to remove them.
Eventually he was found living it up in Hawick and turned out to be an electrician. He had not technically broken the law as he had removed nothing from the sale and had been given the luck money by the breeders The breeders still had their tups to take home but minus the luck money.
(Luck money is a traditional practice paid by the vendor (usually reluctantly) to the buyer of stock to wish him/her luck with them.)
Denys McCracken: Daft Laddie Days – Dressin the yowes
By Denys McCracken
Dressin the yowes
The bosses of these hill farms were two tow perfectionists. When it came near to the half-bred draft yowe sales at Hawick, I as the Daft Laddie from the hill farm had to go and help the lowland shepherd get them ready. First of all they were dipped in an ancient recipe mix that the boss had used for years.
This involved building a fire and boiling some secret component and mixing it with "bloom" dip and liquid soap. The end result was a flock of light cream ewes – all identical in their pristine splendour with the potential to top the mart, which would bring the bosses great prestige and profit. Divn't forget the profit!
The lowland shepherd had been dressin these special yowes for weeks and on arrival I was appointed as the "holder" of them for the final dressing. Next day we whitened their faces and legs with shoe whiting and oiled their hooves with dark oil. Then a little black circle was put on each cheek in a very precise spot by the shepherd. I never found out what this mystical mark portrayed, and of course dared not ask.
The next day before the sale the bosses came with an old wooden spade handle cut down to make a D, and a tin of red post office paint was put into an old baking tin. While I held the yowe, the boss would put a red bar from hip bone to hip bone. They had finished one old tin of paint on the first dozen or so sheep, and I was told to get the new tin off the post at the entrance to the fads (pens).
I pushed my way through about 120 excited yowes and picked it off the post and waded back again. Half way across the pen I tripped and down I went. The tin flew out of my hand and of course some idiot had loosened the lid. The paint flew across the sheep and they in terror, seeing me floundering on the ground, rubbed it against each other well and truly.
I got to my feet and explained that I was terribly sorry but I thought the lid was on. The boss was speechless for a while and then screamed - "Your're always bloody well thinking and never use your brains"! Remember the first law of physics which says that Daft Laddies cannot win.
As a result the boss could only sell 35 instead of the 150 top yowes he had planned and the man from Kent who always paid top price for them on the day bought somebody else's sheep.
Dressin the yowes
The bosses of these hill farms were two tow perfectionists. When it came near to the half-bred draft yowe sales at Hawick, I as the Daft Laddie from the hill farm had to go and help the lowland shepherd get them ready. First of all they were dipped in an ancient recipe mix that the boss had used for years.
This involved building a fire and boiling some secret component and mixing it with "bloom" dip and liquid soap. The end result was a flock of light cream ewes – all identical in their pristine splendour with the potential to top the mart, which would bring the bosses great prestige and profit. Divn't forget the profit!
The lowland shepherd had been dressin these special yowes for weeks and on arrival I was appointed as the "holder" of them for the final dressing. Next day we whitened their faces and legs with shoe whiting and oiled their hooves with dark oil. Then a little black circle was put on each cheek in a very precise spot by the shepherd. I never found out what this mystical mark portrayed, and of course dared not ask.
The next day before the sale the bosses came with an old wooden spade handle cut down to make a D, and a tin of red post office paint was put into an old baking tin. While I held the yowe, the boss would put a red bar from hip bone to hip bone. They had finished one old tin of paint on the first dozen or so sheep, and I was told to get the new tin off the post at the entrance to the fads (pens).
I pushed my way through about 120 excited yowes and picked it off the post and waded back again. Half way across the pen I tripped and down I went. The tin flew out of my hand and of course some idiot had loosened the lid. The paint flew across the sheep and they in terror, seeing me floundering on the ground, rubbed it against each other well and truly.
I got to my feet and explained that I was terribly sorry but I thought the lid was on. The boss was speechless for a while and then screamed - "Your're always bloody well thinking and never use your brains"! Remember the first law of physics which says that Daft Laddies cannot win.
As a result the boss could only sell 35 instead of the 150 top yowes he had planned and the man from Kent who always paid top price for them on the day bought somebody else's sheep.
Denys McCracken: Daft Laddie Days – Pigs for profit
By Denys McCracken
Pigs for profit
Further to some other daft laddie misadventure, that year's barley never got combined and so the farmer decided to put 45 weaner pigs into the field. We built lovely straw bale shelters for the pigs and put an electric fence low down around where we had combined to keep them in. On the Friday evening they seemed contented, but by Saturday morning they were all over the farm.
After a hectic morning trying to round them up, we got them back in and I went home. At 2pm I was phoned to gan back as the little buggas were oot again! This time there was only three of us so when we got them back we hid and watched.
They were wise pigs alright as they bulldozed a heap of soil up to the wire until it earthed, and then walked through as if they knew that there was no danger.
So to fix them we erected another hot wire not connected to the first. But Sunday morning I was back there again chasing pigs and in the afternoon too. That proved to be it. They were taken home and the idea abandoned.
Pigs for profit
Further to some other daft laddie misadventure, that year's barley never got combined and so the farmer decided to put 45 weaner pigs into the field. We built lovely straw bale shelters for the pigs and put an electric fence low down around where we had combined to keep them in. On the Friday evening they seemed contented, but by Saturday morning they were all over the farm.
After a hectic morning trying to round them up, we got them back in and I went home. At 2pm I was phoned to gan back as the little buggas were oot again! This time there was only three of us so when we got them back we hid and watched.
They were wise pigs alright as they bulldozed a heap of soil up to the wire until it earthed, and then walked through as if they knew that there was no danger.
So to fix them we erected another hot wire not connected to the first. But Sunday morning I was back there again chasing pigs and in the afternoon too. That proved to be it. They were taken home and the idea abandoned.
Denys McCracken: Daft Laddie Days – Bogged doon in the barley
By Denys McCracken
Bogged doon in the barley
I finally escaped from me last farm and went to work on a farm near Alnham. The boss employed an ex-German prisoner Herman who had married an English lass. He also employed another Daft Laddie like me called Howard who was the same age.
The boss had bought a Ransome trailer combine and an old Case tractor to pull and power it. It had been very wet and when we got into the first field of barely, some places were so soft that we sank in quite a way.
One day Howard was sitting above the intake of the combine raking the barley in as it was so flat after the weather and was getting stuck. Looking back now this was a very dangerous caper. I was in a much safer spot on the bags on the side and Herman was driving the Case pulling it all along. The boss spent his time running around on the diesel Ferguson tractor seeing all was well.
Eventually we got stuck. Nee bother man: the boss hooked on the front with the Fergy and with a bit of throttle we got out grand. Shortly afterwards we went in again and got both tractors stuck so we were a bit stumped. But help was at hand in the form of our next door neighbour with Tommy's David Brown Cropmaster tractor who pulled the boss out first and then the Case.
To avoid further problems and to clear this soft spot it was decided to go round a few times with all three tractors pulling the combine. This went like clockwork and finally the boss decided we were clear and put his hand up cavalry fashion to tell everybody to stop. Tommy did, but Herman was watching the combine and ploughed into the back of the Cropmaster smashing the radiator.
Not only that, but he pushed the Cropmaster into the Fergy and smashed its radiator anaal. Howard and I were too scared to laugh, but when the boss leapt off the Fergy and let fly at its wheel with his "Simonside" shoes on, and then started jumping around hugging his sore foot, it took a lot of self control on our part te had worsels tigithor.
Bogged doon in the barley
I finally escaped from me last farm and went to work on a farm near Alnham. The boss employed an ex-German prisoner Herman who had married an English lass. He also employed another Daft Laddie like me called Howard who was the same age.
The boss had bought a Ransome trailer combine and an old Case tractor to pull and power it. It had been very wet and when we got into the first field of barely, some places were so soft that we sank in quite a way.
One day Howard was sitting above the intake of the combine raking the barley in as it was so flat after the weather and was getting stuck. Looking back now this was a very dangerous caper. I was in a much safer spot on the bags on the side and Herman was driving the Case pulling it all along. The boss spent his time running around on the diesel Ferguson tractor seeing all was well.
Eventually we got stuck. Nee bother man: the boss hooked on the front with the Fergy and with a bit of throttle we got out grand. Shortly afterwards we went in again and got both tractors stuck so we were a bit stumped. But help was at hand in the form of our next door neighbour with Tommy's David Brown Cropmaster tractor who pulled the boss out first and then the Case.
To avoid further problems and to clear this soft spot it was decided to go round a few times with all three tractors pulling the combine. This went like clockwork and finally the boss decided we were clear and put his hand up cavalry fashion to tell everybody to stop. Tommy did, but Herman was watching the combine and ploughed into the back of the Cropmaster smashing the radiator.
Not only that, but he pushed the Cropmaster into the Fergy and smashed its radiator anaal. Howard and I were too scared to laugh, but when the boss leapt off the Fergy and let fly at its wheel with his "Simonside" shoes on, and then started jumping around hugging his sore foot, it took a lot of self control on our part te had worsels tigithor.
Denys McCracken: Daft Laddie Days – Lizzie’s lunches
By Denys McCracken
Lizzie's lunches
At one farm I worked on we combined with next door to do the "cutting" of the lambs. The back of their farm was a good long walk and we had to start very early in the morning in order to gather the sheep before 8am.
We then had breakfast where the boss boiled a kettle which already had tea in it, and it came out like dark syrup. He unwrapped a parcel and produced sandwiches which were made up of two slices of bread, two eggs and two or more rashes of home cured bacon.
We were supposed to eat three of these each, but as Geordie Scott and I found one enough, the farmer and his Daft Laddie finished the rest with no trouble.
We were finished and home by lunch and Lizzie, the boss's sister had lunch ready for us. This started with a large bowl of thick pea soup, followed by a huge plate of mashed tetties, mince and mashed swede turnips.
Then came plumb duff and custard. Lizzie was terribly hurt that I could only eat a little of it all but needless to say, the boss and his Daft Laddie had second helpings of everything, and they both looked as lean as Herons.
Lizzie's lunches
At one farm I worked on we combined with next door to do the "cutting" of the lambs. The back of their farm was a good long walk and we had to start very early in the morning in order to gather the sheep before 8am.
We then had breakfast where the boss boiled a kettle which already had tea in it, and it came out like dark syrup. He unwrapped a parcel and produced sandwiches which were made up of two slices of bread, two eggs and two or more rashes of home cured bacon.
We were supposed to eat three of these each, but as Geordie Scott and I found one enough, the farmer and his Daft Laddie finished the rest with no trouble.
We were finished and home by lunch and Lizzie, the boss's sister had lunch ready for us. This started with a large bowl of thick pea soup, followed by a huge plate of mashed tetties, mince and mashed swede turnips.
Then came plumb duff and custard. Lizzie was terribly hurt that I could only eat a little of it all but needless to say, the boss and his Daft Laddie had second helpings of everything, and they both looked as lean as Herons.
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