The older men on the farm, so long accustomed to things as they were, didn’t take on these newfangled ideas

No one quite knows where Gillie Michael made his clay hut or on which three acres of land he grew his vegetables, but I liked to think it was our bit of land called the nine tree brae where the stone coffins had been found.

I could imagine him here surveying all the wide marsh land leading down to the river, growing his livelihood on the good free soil, watching the cranes settle as the fine ground-mists cleared.

Why this particular spot was called the nine tree brae we never found out. There were no trees nor any sign of trees having been there but it must have had them at one time.

The rest of the farm was flat. Only the rambling farm house and steading stood on a slight elevation. The whole farm was very compact. Half of it was bounded by the pow draining the land – to the south ran the railway.

To the west the farm’s boundary was the narrow country road that ran up to the village. Only at the bottom of the horse park (called that because it had been the domain of the workhorses of yesteryear) was there a fence between us and our neighbours.

Pasture

This field was permanent pasture where we grazed a few cattle and in the right season gathered the mushrooms that grew in profusion there, still influenced by the past habitation of horses.

Because of all those boundaries and the few fences, we had very few fall-outs with our neighbouring farmers. Their animals did not invade our fields nor ours theirs.

Because the farm was all enclosed like this and was so compact Ronald took to calling it Fortress Inchmichael, inside of which we were all safe. But there is very little real safety in the world, as I was later to discover.

He began to take a great interest in the farm which had been in his family since 1875 and also started to implement some of the things he had learned in Canada, the new ideas.

“We must get away,” he said, “from the concept of little fields, open it up, get bigger machinery; far more work gets done in less time.”

So he proceeded to take out fences which were in need of renewing anyway and make wide fields mainly for the growing of barley, wheat, peas and hay. In theory this was fine but the older men, long accustomed to things as they were, didn’t take on these new-fangled ideas.

They didn’t say much but as soon as Ronald’s back was turned they were back doing it their way working round the fields that had been.

Ronald wasn’t a hard taskmaster, often taking and asking advice from the men, but about this he was adamant. Adamant or not the men went their own way as often as not.

They reckoned it was less monotonous working their way and therefore as quick. Not wanting to sack men, it was fortunate when the two younger ones left to go to more lucrative jobs outside farming.

That left two houses without tenants. The farm had five houses in all, built for workers and their families. In the old days when there were a dozen or so horses and a dairy, they were needed but now we had three empty houses.

High cost

One was the bothy where the single men lived who were hired in at certain seasons of the year to hoe turnip etc. Now we didn’t need them. What would we do with the extra cottages?

“I’m planning low cost farming,” Ronald would tell me. “Low in wages which are ever increasing. It will be high cost in machinery, a bigger combine, bigger tractors to pull bigger implements and, most important of all, a grain drier of our own.

“Father used the grain dryer belonging to the business he had once owned but I can’t do that so readily. Anyway, sometimes at the crucial moment, you have to wait in the queue until you get your grain dried, a waste of precious time.”

I went along with all that he said, only too pleased to see him happy. “We will still grow peas, I think, a good break crop and Smedley needs plenty for his canning factory in Dundee. Besides, we’re all equipped for that.”

Opposite the bothy stood the pea viner, which we shared with a neighbour. We had all the equipment needed to cut and harvest peas.

“We’ll do away with the hens, I think,” said Ronald. We had a big hen house and run, with 300 hens. This was my domain; I fed the hens, collected and washed the eggs. Hens were usually the wife’s responsibility and where she got her pin money – extra for clothing the children and other household essentials. “Hi, what about my pin money?” I cried.

“I’ve thought of that,” replied Ronald, “but hens are not really economical any more. Now that farms have started with battery hens in thousands. I don’t like the idea of that. We’ll keep a few hens for our own use but the rest will go.”

“But my pin money?” I persisted. “I’ve thought of that,” Ronald repeated. “We’ve three empty cottages now. We can rent them out and you can have the proceeds. It won’t be all that much. If you ask anything much in the way of rent it gets hugely taxed as unearned income.

“The houses will be easy enough let. The problem is, if we should change our farming policy and need them for workers again we could be in difficulty. Once people have made a home it’s hard to get them out. I’d hate to evict anyone who didn’t want to go.”

Students

“I think I may have the answer to that,” I said. “I was speaking to Mrs Redford at the station the other day. They had a house surplus to requirements and they’ve let it out to students from Dundee University.

“Seemingly there is a great shortage of student accommodation and the organisers are happy to get anything. Students will always go when their studies are over.”

And so it was settled. I approached the university. They sent someone out to see the cottages and approved and I spent a busy time furnishing them with everything that students might need.

Nothing was too expensive so that it wouldn’t matter if things got broken. With some help I painted up the houses – they were ready when our first boys arrived. They became like sons to me, interesting elder sons who would be doctors, lawyers or teachers. I could have interesting conversations with them on things outside farming.

Also later on, one or two became very useful for coaching children that were averse to scholastic work, as most of mine were. They always paid their rent quarterly as soon as they got their grants.

More tomorrow.