Irregular rant

This is not a forum for the exchange of views. It is merely an opportunity for me to give vent to my feelings. If you have any comments, contributions or amusing things to say, please contact us. At my whim, I may mention them on the site. The power has corrupted me.

Tom Gilbert

 

02.02.10.

 

Farmers are supposed to be guardians of the countryside, but large numbers of them seem incapable of driving along a country road without ejecting empty coke bottles, cigarette packs, beer cans, polystyrene burger containers and the like. Two weeks ago, on a two hundred metre stretch of the Ballylagan Road,which fronts our land, I picked up two sackfuls of rubbish, most of which must be ejected by people who are of farming stock. The only comfort I derive from this task is the thought that if their rubbish is a reflection of their lifestyles, then their lives will be mercifully short. When I was at school, it was drilled into us that dropping litter was amongst the worst crimes a child was thought capable of committing and in the scale of things was roughly equivalent of matricide. This is not a message that seems to be preached any longer at our schools, and it’s a pity. If those fortunate enough to be born into one of the most beautiful countries in the world can treat it with such casual contempt, what hope is there?

 

The other Friday, Patricia and I were travelling back from Belfast when we received an anguished telephone call from Elizabeth in the shop. Apparently three of our pigs were in the village. Whereas I like pigs more than any other farm animal, their potential for disaster sometimes offsets my enthusiasm. We spend vast sums on fencing in order to ensure the pigs stay put, but their very nature ensures that their borders are constantly tested. They root about, they dig things up, they move things aside. What was an impenetrable thicket, becomes an easy route into a neighbour’s garden, and thence the world. If the neighbour’s garden contains a particularly immaculate lawn, you may be sure they will feel duty bound to dig it up. As we journeyed home therefore I felt increasingly tense, and Patricia made anguished calls to anyone we felt might be able to help.

 

When we arrived home, the situation was under control. The pigs had been cornered in the car park in the village and penned in by gates borrowed from the local merchants. Our benefactors were friends who live in the village and it was clear from the smiles on their faces that this had been an enjoyable little interlude for them. (I always remember the pleasure I felt as I watched another farmer’s heifer escape from the local veterinary clinic and race towards the centre of Ballyclare. I did all I could to help prevent this, but the fact that it was a minor disaster happening to someone else pleased me enormously.) My trailer was fetched and in no time the pigs were back behind bars. We have since found their escape route and made it secure – until the next time.

 

We had very good pork chops for tea that night. I would commend them to you.

 

It will not have escaped your attention that there was a prolonged cold snap at Christmas. Initially there was a good snow cover, which protected our potato crop from the severe frost, but as you may remember, this was followed by a short thaw, leaving the ground totally exposed to the ever deepening frost. Our mains water to the cattle shed froze and for a prolonged period we were obliged to cart water to all the beasts – and you would be amazed how much water they need. When the thaw eventually came, it took several days before the mains came back on. Thankfully we only had one burst pipe.

 

It was about a week before the thaw released any of the spuds from the iron grip of the frozen ground, and it was immediately clear that we have lost at least 60% of our potato crop. We won’t know the full extent of the damage until a few weeks have passed and the frost damaged spuds have started to rot and thus made themselves easily identifiable. In the meantime we have to buy in spuds. This might make you ask why on earth we didn’t lift the spuds before the frost? – Well, we’ve had a very wet early winter and there have only been a few days in which it was possible to dig the spuds at all. Frequently the potatoes have been hand dug because the ground was too wet for even my primitive machinery. And whereas big growers will frequently dig their potatoes as soon as they’re ready so as they can be stored in huge, climate controlled warehouses, this is not an option open to the likes of me. The storage we have available would probably be as vulnerable to a frost of greater than -6 c as leaving them in the ground. Besides, for the last 20 years we have been storing most of the spuds in the ground where they grew and this is the first year it has presented major problems.

 

The world has diminishing resources and a population that is growing at an exponential rate. I am not unique in having lost crops left in the ground – far from it, and many other vegetables have been lost as well. For the moment our wealth as a nation cushions us against these blows and allows us to buy on the wider market. Chemical farmers and genetic modifiers argue that the only way to have food security is to intensify our means of production. I would say they have been making that argument for the last 50 years, and have never once succeeded in feeding the world’s population, but only in pillaging vast areas of our planet. One of the presents I got for Christmas was the RSPB Pocket Guide to British Birds. I was struck very forcefully by the following: ‘The huge, prairie- like, intensively farmed arable fields of parts of eastern England may hold little more than visiting Wood Pigeons and Rooks ……’  Let’s not sell our birthright for a mess of genetically modified and chemically enhanced potage.

The Silent Spring is closer than we think.

 

We look forward to seeing you.

 

Tom Gilbert.


 

Click here to read old rants and letters

 

 

 

 

Prince Charles visiting Ballylagan Organic Farm