Llanelli Naturalists Newsletter - December 2003 - No 70
Kath Cottingham
As some of you will know, my father passed away in September, and, as a farmer all his life, he valued the land and the soil and the natural history in a way that today would label him as a conservationist and organic producer. He believed, and knew by observing what was happening to the more intensively farmed land around him, that the use of artificial fertilisers, herbicides and pesticides ruined the land and I well remember his derogatory comments about ministry officials who tried to encourage the use of fertiliser. He made hay, mown quite late, never silage, used manure and occasionally basic slag and lime on the fields, milked his cows by hand (only made possible by my mother’s skill in this too), left wild areas uncut for orchids to flower, controlled thistles and ragwort by mowing or hand pulling, left hedges to grow to provide shelter for both his cattle and wildlife, and had the hedges layed periodically. It was a hard-won living but life was enjoyable, if basic, on the Farm.
He was once persuaded that installing a milking machine was a good idea but after an eventful week getting the cows used to it, some churns of milk were returned as bad quality, so that was it, the machine was never used again and he and my mother returned to hand milking for the rest of their farming life (more than 20 or so years). The result of all this was flower-rich meadows, healthy cattle, a great deal of hard work, no time off together and not much profit. It all made sense to him – ruining the land is short sighted, but few people could see that at the time. At his funeral, the church was packed, far more people than we had expected. He was regarded as a local character and often it is the characters who have the vision which turns out to be right. I owe my early interest in living things to my parents.
It is quite a shock when I realise that he was still farming in this way only about twenty years ago, and my diaries written at junior school lend an insight into this way of life. One memory I have that made a lasting impression, was reading a copy of Tony Soper’s Birdtable Book, obtained after a trip with my grandmother to a large library in Manchester. It had all sorts of tips for encouraging birds and the pages of most interest were duly copied-out by hand (no such luxury as photocopying, as even if it had been possible, my five shillings saved up for the annual visit to Grandma’s, was not to be wasted). The item I remember most vividly is a drawing of an upturned metal dustbin lid supported on bricks. Unfortunately, back home, the bins were well looked after and a lid never became spare, so the idea was never put into practice. However, this year I was reminded of this when, for several days I drove past a skip topped with a perfectly suitable metal dustbin lid. Conflict arose within me: am I to turn into the sort of person who rescues things from skips? And if the skip gets removed will I regret not having asked for the lid? Eventually I could resist it no longer and sought permission at the house to take it away to Trevethin, triumphantly, where it has made an excellent birdbath!
