Now, at the ripe old age of 11, I felt quite grown up but I often heard my
mother say to my father, 'Beryl worries me, will she never start growing
up?' My father would say, 'she is ok Brenda, she just has a vivid imagination.'
'Oh she has got that alright,' my mother would say, 'she drives me up the
wall.'
I continued to live in my own little world and did not want any lodgers. That
is until I decided to collect frog spawn out of the pond. I collected jars of it
and tipped it all into the cow's drinking troughs in our yard. My dad was
not pleased when baby frogs were hopping all over the yard. There were
loads of them and he nearly blew a fuse. I was told to catch them and take
them back up to the pond. Have you ever tried to catch a leaping frog,
never mind several dozen of them?
After that I decided to look further afield for pets and on one of my
walkabouts I came across a dead vixen lying outside her lair and soon
discovered, to my joy, that cubs, a few hours old, were still there. I ran all
the way home to get a spade, taking great care that my brother or sisters
did not spot me. They would be sure to tell. I had found that they could
keep nothing to themselves so no way was I letting them in on this.
My heart was beating faster than raindrops on a barrel. Partly dragging the
spade and carrying it, I ran back onto the mountain, praying that the
mother fox had not been given the kiss of life. Those babies were mine
and no one was going to know about them if I could help it. It took me
quite a long time to dig them out and there were three when I finally
reached them. Like little kittens they were, black soft fur with just a touch
of brown on them, blind as bats, struggling in my hands. I put
them in my jacket pockets, where hopefully no one would see them, and
feeling like I'd just dug up buried treasure, the spade dragging behind me, I
made my way back to the farm.
The next job was where to hide them, because I knew I'd be in big trouble if
it was found I had them. I had to feed them too. Where could I hide them?
I know, in the tollet, a very small loft, over the one cowshed that was
overrun by cats and kittens. Dad kept saying he was going to get up there
and get rid of the kittens but he was a softie and could not drown them, so
hopefully my babies would be safe up there.
There was lots of old holes in the walls of the tollet where the old mortar
had fallen out and this was were the cats hid their kittens. There was old
hay there which was no good for the cows, only for bedding, so I would hide
them there. Up I went with my precious bundle and made a deep hole in
the mouldy old hay, where I placed them. They were crawling all over each
other and making squeaky noises so I knew they were hungry. The next
million dollar question was how was I going to feed them?
Going into the kitchen my eyes were looking everywhere to see if
something was there what would feed them. There was an old baby's
bottle on the shelf in the pantry, left over from one of mum's babies. Let's
hope I could find an old teat, which I did. There was one still in a wrapper
on the same shelf and I knew it must have been there a long time, so no
one was going to miss it. I waited till dad started the milking and had the
first bucketful ready for the cooler, then when his back was turned, I stole
a bottle full of the rich, warm, creamy milk. Up the ladder into the tollet I
went. You could not stand upright in it as it was very low but I made my
way to my babies, who were crawling blindly all over each other, making
their squeaky noises. They were hungry and looking for mum. Well I was
here and I prised the first one's mouth open and squeezed the milk into its
mouth. It spluttered and struggled as the milk went into its mouth but
once it got the taste it was away sucking strongly on the teat, its little paws
going back and forth as it sucked contentendly. I felt great, I was a mum
and these were my babies. Soon I had given all three a drink and they
snuggled down in the bed of hay and promptly fell asleep. This was lovely,
I sat there watching them for a long time until I heard my mother calling
me for my tea. She must not catch me up here.
My foxes flourished and soon, to my delight, they recognised me when I
went up the ladder. Their little eyes would open and they would come
trotting to me for their milk and growl at each other as they fought to get to
the milk first. Now one bottleful was not enough. I found that somehow I
had to steal sometimes three bottles to keep them happy, and happy they
were. They would play and roll all over the hay and the cats hated them.
They would hiss and spit at the little foxes all the time but my darlings just
ignored them. They were having a grand old time. Food on tap, a warm
bed and me. I loved them to bits.
By now they were getting daring, trying to follow me down the ladder when
I went and they had grown a lot. They were now as big as puppies and
quite a handful. Also, although I did not admit it to anyone, they ponged
and I was sure I did as well after playing with them. I knew it was time to
move my family from the tollet but where were we going to squat next. It
had to be somewhere out of the yard as they were getting to noisy to stay
near to where dad worked. He would be sure, in time, to either hear them
or smell them. After lots of thought I decided to move them early the next
morning while dad was busy with the animlas and mum in the house. I
decided to put them in an old hollow tree about one hundred yards from
the house.
So early next morning I was up and had three bundles of mischief out of
the tollet under my coat and up the field to the tree. They would have to
wait a bit for breakfast until I could sneak back. Putting them in the base
of the tree I proceeded to hurry back and was half way across the yard
when dad came out of the cowshed. 'Hiya dad,' I said, and was about to
turn towards the house when the funny look on my father's face stopped
me. 'What's up Dad,' I said, as his mouth opened and closed. I stopped
and that is when I knew what was up. My little family were toddling behind
me and playfully darting towards the hens all over the yard. Hens that
could not believe they only meant to play were clucking, squawking and
flying to get away from the foxes. For the first time in my short life my
father was speechless. When he did manage to shout it was not at me but
to my mother who to had come into the yard and was just standing there
unable to believe she was seeing what she was seeing. 'Dear God,' my
father said 'she has bloody foxcubs now Brenda, well they have got to go.'
I sat down in the yard and started crying bitterly, the foxes climbing all over
me in their quest for breakfast. 'I cannot believe she'd do this,' my father
was saying, 'bringing foxes into a yard full of chickens. Where is your
sense child? They cannot stay here.' I was hysterical, no way was my
babies going, they could not look after themselves and I knew they would
not touch the chickens.
Dad was talking to mum now about hitting them on the head with a shovel.
'Best thing to do Brenda,' he was saying, 'they will not survive out there,
look at them all over her.' But my mum was now seeing them through my
eyes and saying, 'no Bill, she will keep them locked up till they can fend for
themselves, then we will take them a long way acros the mountain and
release them.' I could have hugged her if I had not been bogged down with
three bundles all over me.
It was another nine weeks before my family was taken. I think deep down I
never forgave my parents and cried lots of times for them for several
weeks, but I never saw them again.
KEEP THE FIRE HOT
Working in the pit and running a farm was very hard work for my father and, as I have
said before, we all had to do our share of the manual labour.
One of my jobs was taking the horse and cart down as close to the pit as I could. Leaving it there and going on to the old coal tip and filling sacks with small pieces of coal, whilstkeeping one eye open for the man who was paid to keep the likes of me off it. I would half fill a sack, drag it back to the cart and stack them as many as I could manage. The old horse would stand there quite content with the world. Several journeys I would make, during the day, to stock up for the long winter months ahead.
With a bucket of small coal and large logs, the fire would stay in all night. When I considered there was enough small coal, the next job for the old horse and me was wooding. Funny I loved this job because the horse and I would wander for a couple
of miles, pulling the cart, both of us lost in our own thoughts, chucking any old wood lying around into the cart. Old bits of wood blown down in a storm, maybe years ago, would find their way onto the cart. When I decided the cart was full enough I would sit on the shaft and tell the horse to go home. Once we reached home the horse would stand still while I threw all the wood into an old shed ready for the axe. When the cold weather came, a shed full of wood and a ton or so of small coal was our central heating during, the long winter months ahead.
After emptying the cart I'd unharness the horse and turn him into the meadow. He would run around, tail flowing out behind him, give a few jumps and turns, then settle for a graze. Such a lovely old horse with a sweet temper on him. As long as the pace was slow he would work all day. He and I had it all planned out. Do a little, rest a lot. It seemed to work for both of us.
Oh, how I miss those days when life was so simple and you thanked God for what you
had and thought you were so lucky. My life was a kalidiscope of adventure, hard work
and total fulfillment. A more wonderful childhood no one had and every day I relive a
little of it, with so much pleasure.
I hope by giving you all just a small insight into my life as a child I have brought you all a little joy.
LAMBING TIME
Early in February, my father would start getting all the sheep off the mountain into the field by the house, because soon most of them would be dropping their lambs. We had special stalls made, with bales of straw, for the ewes in labour to go into. A good start for the lambs was essential.
My father was a good shepherd. He was clever with lambing problems and we children soon learnt how to turn a breach lamb or draw a lamb, when the mother was in difficulties. But there were always deaths. Mothers were old or the lambs were weak. It always ended up with several orphans to bottle feed. I used to love feeding them. The person that fed them was their mother and the lamb would follow you just like a dog, calling to you if they could not see you or needed feeding.To my mother they were a menace because they followed us into the house. That would make my mother get so mad. 'Get that lamb out,' she would say, 'and keep it out.' The lambs would even follow you to the village shop. I always took mine with me. It gave me so much pleasure to walk through the village with two or three lambs in tow.
If they were bottle fed they stayed very tame, even when fully grown, and thought they were not sheep, preferring to be with humans. Again that caused problems, because they would not stay on the mountain to graze but kept on returning to the farm. Believe me they were as adept as goats at getting where they should not be, like mum's vegetable patch which they made short work of.
This is how two of our pet lambs were chosen for the market and the butcher. Tish and Tosh were their names, both male lambs, three quarters grown and, in my father's words, a damn menace. When the sheep were rounded up for the market, Tish and Tosh were with them. All broken mouthed ewes were due to go. That is ewes that are past their
lambing days, or as you would say today, past their sell by date. Tish and Tosh stood watching all the rounding up and loading into the wagon, with great interest. After all they did not consider themselves part of that lot did they? All the begging and crying would not persuade my father not to send them.
Just before the wagon was due to go, Tish and Tosh found themselves loaded on to the wagon, with no graces. The driver was offered the usual cup of tea before he departed, which he accepted. This gave us kids the opportunity we had been hoping for. Going to the small door at the front near side of the wagon we opened it, gave a little call, 'Tish and Tosh, come on.' Through the sheep, they pressed themselves, out of the door into freedom again. I went up over the tump knowing they would follow me, out of my father's sight, until the wagon had gone. This they did, never knowing how close they had come to the butcher's knife. We kids came very close to a slap when, early in the afternoon, Tish and Tosh were prancing around the yard again, getting up to their old tricks.
'Them kids and those damn lambs will be the death of me Brenda,' my father said. But the two lambs lived to a great old age up on the farm. My father never tried to send them away again.
THE RED WELLINGTONS
My auntie Mary was coming down to stay for two weeks with us and bringing her son, our cousin David. We had never met David as they lived in London, which seemed good to me. I could not believe that we had relatives that lived in London, a real big city, where the Queen lived.
Dad went to meet them at the station and bring them home. On arrival, after the hugging and the kissing, I looked this David over. Looked a bit of a wimp to me. He was tall, much taller than me and talked funny. I had a job to understand him, but dad said that is how every one talks in London. It is a wonder they all understand each other, I thought.
This David fancied himself, I could see that at a glance. Also he was a mummy's boy. I went out of my way to make him look daft and believe me it was easy. He was hanging around my sister, looking at her all the time, with a doe eyed look and she was lapping it up with such a stupid grin on her face.
I heard auntie Mary speaking to my father and saying how reserved David was and what a tomboy I was. Dad laughed and told Mary that I was a very tough little cookie. I thought that was good, coming from my dad. In that minute, all sins he had committed against me were forgiven.
Next morning we decided to go exploring and that is when I got a big surprise. We had all put our wellies on and here comes David wearing red ones. I had never seen red wellies until that moment. We all had black ones and red lines under our knees where they chaffed our legs. Now here was a beautiful pair of red wellies. Jealousy reared its ugly
head right away. If there was anything I wanted more than those red wellies, I had no idea what.
We got to a fast flowing mountain stream that was rushing down the mountain and splashed around for a while, but my mind was on the wellies. 'Give us a try of your wellies,' I asked David. 'No,' he said, 'my mum will not like it.' They danced under my nose, as he played, and my eyes followed them everywhere.
That evening when we sat down to tea, David's wellies were in the porch and I went to bed thinking of them. Next morning I was up early, just to try on the wellies. They looked good on me, better than on him. If I could not have them I'd make sure he did not have them to wear either. Making sure no one was watching, I grabbed them and hurried out,
on the mountain, to the rushing stream we had visited yesterday. I filled the wellies with water and watched them sink. That had put paid to them and his showing off, I thought.
wandered back down the mountain path , all thoughts of wanting the red welling tons , now gone and my thoughts were turning to other things far more important as i entered into the yard , there she is mum , i heard our David cry bet she took them did you my mother asked, quite sternly did you take Davids wellies,? basic instincts told me play for time girl ,why where are they gone mum i ask with a air of pure innocence ,thats what we intend to find out my mother replied, but they are not in the porch where he left them ,i looked at our David who was doing a great act himself of a persecuted hero ,and said bet he didtn even leave em in the porch. my mother looked at me real hard and said if i find out you have taken them my girl your in big trouble,seems i didtn really have to lie and i was being let off the hook but both David and his mother didtn let me off to easy i was still the prime suspect the only suspect god i thought ill be so pleased to see back of them
