A Croft in the Hills Read Online Free PDF Page B

gates and fences. We could grow our first crops in the well-fenced fields, thus giving ourselves time to do
the other fencing more or less at leisure. We could winter cattle in the steading and keep the one near home for the house-cow and the hens in deep litter. The proposition was certainly
attractive—could we scrape the bottom of the barrel? We had still our basic stock to buy.
    For several days we looked at the thing from all angles. Then, over a cup of tea at the kitchen fire, on a blustery, wet afternoon, we discussed it with J. F., the owner of the croft. We could
have it lock, stock and barrel, he said, it was proving too irksome for him, with his other commitments. The lock we knew about; of barrel there was no sign! But we agreed to examine the stock.
This consisted of one cross cow, in milk (she was brown and horned and had a touch of Guernsey about her, her owner said. This was later borne out by the quality of the cream she produced), and
four stirks, all hardy crosses, two score sheep, a couple of goats, two dozen hens, a dozen khaki-Campbell ducks and—Charlie, a straw-coloured Highland pony of uncertain age. There was also a
cart, a set of harrows, a mower, a turnip-chopper, barn tools, all things we should need and have to spend precious time looking for in the second-hand market. Here they were on the spot. Finally
we did a deal and the signing of one more scrap of paper satisfied our land hunger at last.
    The animals were in poor shape and we got them cheaply enough. They had had a lean winter of it, but we knew a summer’s grazing could work wonders—and so it proved. We were able to
sell the stirks in the autumn for more than twice the amount we paid for them. But in the meantime our immediate problem was to find something to put in their bellies, until such time as the
natural herbage had grown sufficiently to satisfy their appetites.
    Here, again, our neighbours came to the rescue. Willie Maclean, from over the burn, sent word that we could come at any time to fetch a load of turnips. He was getting on in years and would not
be putting down another crop. He had been ill the previous autumn and had only been able to gather in enough turnips to do his one remaining cow. The rest were lying in small covered heaps in the
field, and we were welcome to help ourselves to them. We gladly accepted the offer and went round with Charlie and the cart. On our departure we were told ‘that was an awful wee load’
and we were to ‘be sure and come back for another’. As we were about to set off with the second load, we were bidden to come again for some corn sheaves, for ‘the horse would be
the better of a feed of oats’. On our return next day Sadie, the young girl of the house, was there to help fill the cart with sweet-smelling sheaves and to give a hand to secure the load
with stack-rope. We threshed the sheaves in the old-fashioned way, by beating them with a stick, and it warmed our hearts that evening to see the cattle-beasts munching bundles of good oat-straw
and chopped turnip and to watch Charlie devouring half a pailful of corn.
    We installed Daisy, the cow, in the home byre and cut rushes with a sickle to make her a clean bed. I washed her udder with soap and water and brushed the accumulation of caked mud off her
flanks. The College vet. took a sample of her milk for testing and it was declared free of T.B. bacilli. She was a nice quiet milker and we drank quantities of milk from that time on.
    We now found ourselves struggling to overtake the rush of spring work. Loads of lime and fertiliser had arrived and were waiting to be spread, there was dung to be carted out to the potato
ground, there was still some ploughing to do. We decided we should need some help for a week or two so we asked our good friend the post if he knew of anyone who might be available. There were two
brothers, he said, young lads who were often available for odd work. It sounded hopeful.
    Next morning