Farmer’s View looks at the aftermath of the roup

What is the greatest sadness that can afflict a farmer? A combine stuck into the axles? Not a disaster. Get the chains, get the big tractor, get it out and roll on. At the worst, get a hammer and take the dents out of the fan housing.

A dead cow or bull? Sad, but not an unusual event. It’s only to be expected sometimes, and we get over it.

Poor prices or potatoes one can’t sell in a surplus year? Once again, we expect this every so often.

No, the worst sight – the one which grips you round the gut – are the empty sheds and yards after the roup. Before the sale, everything is hectic, people casually dropping in before the implements are even in the field, up to two weeks before the sale date, expecting to be given free rein to wander.

On the sale day, again it’s pandemonium. There are signs to organise, cars everywhere, noses poking into places they shouldn’t – even spray sheds with “do not enter signs” – stupid questions like “how many cylinders is that tractor?” and genuine queries you don’t have enough time to answer.

The prices are nowhere near the estimates. Some things are given away while others are above the price paid years ago. Everywhere there are “experts” giving opinions on treasured possessions which have worked well without ever giving bother, while trying to catch the auctioneer’s eye.

After the sale, the loading is a nightmare. Low-loaders try to fit several awkward machines on to maximise the payload, often in the dark; drivers don’t know which lot to load or leave till later; the odd machine is left standing in the field for a fortnight after the loading forklift has been loaded itself.

That looks bad enough, but eventually all is gone – and then it hits.

There are empty sheds where there was machinery, empty courts which should be full of cattle, a bare workshop where the sparks once flew from the welder and grinder.

The cottage is empty now that the young Polish worker has gone home. He’s going back to his small farm with bigger ideas than he had when he came 12 years ago, leaving with tears in his eyes, and a note pinned to the wall “I will miss Scotland”.

Will these empty farms after the sale ever gather the same buzz? I doubt it. Everything gets bigger, but more scattered. There are empty sheds, with initials scratched on lintels from men whose voices no longer echo and empty cart sheds with worn steps to the loft which once seemed back-breaking to the ploughman with heavy sacks.

People go to sales for many reasons – a day out or a chance to meet friends, but I find some aspects puzzling.

Big implements which are ready to go to work struggle to find bids while smaller ones needing repairs easily sell.

The overwhelming impression is that there are no small potato growers looking to use the older model machines, just big growers borrowing to the hilt for the latest equipment. For cereal growers, the opposite applies. The handy-sized combine does not depreciate, whilst the big wide rotary goes straight to the breakers.

Best not to look back, just whistle and move away. Or, better, move on.

Thereare empty sheds, with initials scratched on lintels

Before the sale, everything is hectic, people casually dropping in expecting to be allowed to wander.