Ash Trees have Shallow Roots 153

How we found out that Ash Trees have Shallow Roots

In all my seventy three years, it was only during my first nine years that I had anything to do with our farms three shire horse. The most regular job was to lead them to the blacksmith's shop with my brothers on the way to school. They would stay there from nine in the morning until lunch time at twelve o'clock when we were pitched up on top of them and they would take us home for our mid day meal.
In 1942 father bought a Standard Fordson tractor along with a two furrow plough and a tractor cultivator and a set of disc harrows, this took a lot of hard work off the horses, as by now they were getting older. He still had the old ploughs and single row cultivators, the corn (wheat and oats) drill, though by now he had converted the pole of the drill by shortening it and put a clevis hitch on the end so it would be pulled by the Fordson tractor. The binder also had a pole that was rigged up to take three Shire horses abreast, again this was shortened and had a tractor hitch fitted, that was another long and mauling job that was taken off the ageing shires.
By the time I was fourteen we had two tractors, this second one was a David Brown Cropmaster with hydraulic linkage and a hydraulic linkage plough to match. A problem started to crop up where by the headland of each ploughed field was not being ploughed close enough to the hedge row like father always did when he plough with horses.
He always claimed that there was more soil in the last furrow round the outside of the field than any other furrow in the field, and it was always said in jest years ago, that when any farmer was expecting an addition to the family "you will have to plough another furrow closer to the hedge".
Well this was not the case on this occasion, father asked me and my elder brother to take the Cropmaster tractor and a single furrow horse plough and plough an extra furrow closer to the hedge all round the ploughed fields. Myself being the younger and smaller one drove the tractor, and brother who was bigger and stronger controlled the plough, there was a length of chain connecting the two and hitched to one side of the tractor.
Father had set us up and we were progressing well, he had left us to get on with the job at hand, we had a bit of shuffling at the corners and in places we managed to go round a second time, until, we came to an Ash tree.  Ash trees are well known, (but not to us) for having strong shallow roots that spread and grow close to the surface, and do so when the field had been in grass for three years in the rotation, then suddenly there is a problem.
With the horses, they would feel the root and promptly stop, with no damage to the plough or them, but with the tractor, that had no feelings, and a lot more power, it grunted on and snatched the plough, which was well hooked under the root, and it flipped the plough handles skywards along with my brother. Brother was okay, if a little bruised, but the plough was destroyed and lay under that tree for years, an ever lasting reminder that Ash Trees always have shallow roots.

This is my father in 1940 mowing grass with his shire horses Flower and Dolly, he lost two fingers as a lad clearing the blade of a mower the same as this. The horses are in Chain harness. For shaft harness they had a heavy saddle pad and a breaching round their rumps

I Remember Fathers Fingers

A tale he told us while working for his uncle Dan, he must have been around thirteen years old

Father lost two fingers, while mowing hay one day,

He was helping uncle Dan on the meadows, not at all at play,

Only thirteen started working, horses in the shaft,

The mower blocked with grass, clearing it by hand (how daft)

He lifted blade and went round back, while it was still in gear,

One horse did stamp his foot at flies, and gave the blade two shithers,

This was just enough no doubt, cut two fingers in one go,

He never said how he stopped, the blood, there must have been a flow,

The little finger it was off, above the lower joint,

The next was off above second, clean cut to a point,

Hospital took one off at knuckle, and stitch the flap of skin,

Tuther  left half a stub, of finger what a sin.

No safety men to bother them, it was get him back to work,

They healed so slow, it was a blow, but not a time to shirk,

A motor bike he bought one day, to get about much quicker,

It had a belt to drive, hand clutch, and blow up tyre,

Mother he did find one day, while he was out on bike,

He gave a lift and she did find, how cold the bike could be,

Knit pair of gloves did she, to fit his fingers short,

Then regularly did see her out ,and then began to court.

Round the table Sunday breakfast, father told us tales,

Of how he helped his uncle Dan, less fingers and no bales,

We had to always asked him, to tell us that again,

Of how he lost his fingers, and all about the pain.

Countryman (Owd Fred)

Climate Change, the hot topic 38

Climate Change, the hot topic (or cold depending what year it was),

When the ice did break in the middle the tractor dropped about eighteen inches and had a job to get it out , then could not use that route for a few weeks due to the deep steps down off the ice at the sides of the ford.

I recall the winter of 1947 when we had a lot of deep snow which filled the roads and lanes level full to the top of the hedges in places as deep as ten foot. There was a continuous period of cold weather that the snow hung about for all of a month, and frost most nights freezing the water bowls in from of the cows tied in their stalls. The cows were loosed out each day for a couple of hours for exercise and if they had no water in the shed, we had to break the ice on the flowing brook. Nowadays we do get a bit of snow and often melted away by mid morning



That's me on the right in 1947 , when the roads were blocked for almost a week. In places the road was filled up to the top of the hedges eight or ten feet, almost walk on top of the fences and hedges.Picture was taken with the Beeches Farm in the back ground, and the original old beech trees. The tall chap with the leather jerkin was a bus driver,John Lowe, and the chap with his ass in the air was a cow man from Village Farm named George. My mum is the one in the light coloured coat at the back. On the left is John's daughter, and in the middle is Georges daughter.


I Remember Digging Snow 1947

I Remember digging snow, with my little spade,
I would be about eight years old, my friends and me we played
Little caps and scarves we wore, and wellinton boots as well,
Digging under snow drifts, till roof top down it fell.

All the men from in the village, started to dig the road,
Drifts for over a mile each way, they all toiled and strove,
To get the hay from barn to shed, out lying cattle to feed,
Even the tractors couldn't move, or get to hog of swede

The village it was totally cut off, for about two days,
Us kids we dug up to houses, digging out the pathways
For this we got a piece, of home made cake with jam,
Or a drink of Corona pop, just a little dram.

Bread man was the first, to venture in on foot,
Helped along the way, on our sledges bread he put,
The postman he was helped, slippery paths we ran up,
Paper lady old Violet, her papers did not turn-up.

Milk from the farms still their, to double in two days,
Take to Bridgeford Garage, across the fields on drays,
Bring back the empty churns, all clanging on the back,
To fill again them over night, and back along same track.

Third day we went to school, Miss Pye from Doxey walked, (our teacher)
Only six of us turned up, on board in front of fire she chalked,
Chairs and a table pulled to the fire, roaring up the chimney,
Compared our notes about, through snow we had to journey.

When the snow ventualy melted, lumps of drifts stayed put,
It took weeks for this to go, from under hedge and butt,
Floods came out all over low ground, silt and mud abound,
Pleased when the spring came along, thought the grass had drowned.

Owd Fred


After mains water came to the village in the 1950's I remember one very hard frost, that went on for a week and it froze the mains water pipes which supposed to be three foot down. The week after water still would not run and they brought in a man with a big welding generator, and connected his live cable to one fire hydrant, and run a long cable to connect his earth to the next hydrant, and run a currant though the pipes for about twenty minuets or until the water run. It took him all day to do the half mile length of the village.

There had been a covering of snow off the road line and that seemed to prevent most house pipes freezing to the house, but those that did the man connected his cable to the tap under the sinks.
In that same year when I remember the ford in the village had frozen over that solid that it carried the tractor and trailer, for a two day muck carting spree without breaking through, When it did break in the middle the tractor dropped about eighteen inches and had a job to get it out , then could not use that route for a few weeks due to the deep steps down off the ice at the sides.

In the 1970's ( think it was 75 or 76) we had that very dry hot summer that burned off all the grass and I resorted to grazing my cows down the cow lane which is almost a mile long and stayed with then for an hour each morning for them to eat off the hedge banks and lane verges, then taking them onto the peaty meadows where the fields were green no grass but just green and down there for water. The wheat and barley had quite good heads considering but the straw was about six inches high, the combine was licking it off the ground. No straw to bale on most of the fields.

The Millian Brook that flowed through the ford stopped flowing for the first time in living memory, there were still deep pools of water along its length but the different herds of cattle drank more than what came from the springs that fed it.

Church Farm is just up the lane off the picture to the right This is the ford and the foot bridge where most of the cows would prefer to queue up and go over single file, although odd one would always go through even when it was in flood and almost four foot deep. When it froze over it was around two foot deep, some water would find its way over the top and freeze again at night giving and ever stronger icepack.

The Millian Brook
The Millian Brook from fields filtrate,
All the water from the Seighford estate,
Same steady contour for years gone by,
Nothing to stop it, even if you try.

Through pools and weirs all man made,
It burst its bank its time outstayed
Through drought and flood to the ford
Its waters gouge its path contoured.

It winds its way through fields and meadows,
Under dark shade beneath the willows,
Between the alders hold banks well rooted,
Foot bridge now once it was waded.

The brook alive with wildlife so shy,
Wade and nest and burrow rely,
From flies and fish to mammals and birds,
All can be found as it wends seawards.
Owd Fred


Advice is like snow; the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and deeper it sinks into the mind.
Samual Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)

 

Isabel Davies said:

What a great picture to have of yourself. So young and innocent!

# October 21, 2008 11:04 AM [Delete]

Owd Fred said:

Yes still in short trousers even in that weather, don't know if it was long socks or just dirty knees
can't remember, more likley the latter.