Lockdown in the countryside has its ups and downs
hat one farmer said to me when coronavirus lockdown was imposed might be true for others: “No big deal, I’ve been self-isolating all my life.”
But most of us are now feeling the strain. Even if farmers are in a better position than many because they work much of the time outdoors and for most farm jobs social distancing – a phrase unknown to us a few weeks ago – is relatively easy, rural helplines such as that run by the RSABI are busier than usual.
And even if the gruesome statistics indicate that the over-70s, the obese and those suffering from dementia are much more vulnerable to the virus that is not necessarily a consolation on all counts to some of us scoring at least one out of three.
From a personal viewpoint it is difficult to decide whether the warmest, driest April in more than three centuries has been a good thing or not. In a normal year it would be a good thing because I would be out and about in the countryside, on the hills, along the riversides, over the fields.
Plus, of course, farming from the road. No longer involved in active farming or day-to-day reporting, there would have been the usual vicarious pleasure of looking at good crops, sympathising with the patchy ones, admiring a field well stocked with healthy ewes and lambs and agreeing with every farmer that we need rain.
Instead, I’m confined to walking the same long street every day, extending my walk further each time as I try to get legs back into at least 90 per cent working order after illness. Recently,i’ ve made it down to the riverside and up a fairly steep hill to complete a circuit to the house.
That means being able to see sheep and suckler cows close up along one stretch and autumn-drilled crops in the distance. In the past week several fields of oilseed rape have turned yellow. Bird song seems clearer and louder than usual on my walks and in the garden, but I’m still hopeless at identifying more than a blackbird while the ones I can identify only too well – gulls, crows, pigeons and, drat me, wandering peacocks that apparently have the run of the street – I’d rather were somewhere else.
What my own experiences and feelings give me is some sympathy with those who decide they can’t stand confinement any longer and that they have to get to countryside, any countryside, or reach a beach or river.
My sympathy does not include the idiots holding group barbecues or other gatherings. Or those who think a much quieter countryside is an ideal chance for fly tipping or less chance of being detected in rural crime. Or those who let dogs run loose. Or clog farm roads with cars.
But I do sympathise with those who only want to walk and breathe fresh air and get away for a time from what might be a small house or flat without a garden and possibly with several youngsters. As the late Henry Brewis put it at the end of one of his many memorable doggerel verses, this one about a town family coming to the countryside: “And if you were in their place/you’d do the bloody same.”
Quite possibly, but that does not make it any easier for a farmer having to contend with members of the public treating his land as a public park and I’ve every sympathy with that too. Trying to get both sides to see things the same way isn’t easy and it won’t get easier as lockdown continues and the other problems farmers have to cope with get worse.
Such as labour not only willing, but skilled enough, to handle the soft fruit harvest and vegetable crops. From my isolated view and relying on secondhand reports, fruit growers seem to be managing, but it’s difficult.
Relations with supermarkets for many farm products are fraught, not least because the major retailers have never been under so much pressure. On the other hand, high street shops such as butchers and the travelling fish van haven’t been so busy for years. Livestock markets are volatile.
Strange times for us all. And don’t expect improvement any time soon.