PLOWING MATCH … DEATH OF A TRACTOR…Cucumber Ordeal

BY ACCIDENT, WE FOUND A PLOWING MATCH

(AND MET QUEENS OF THE FURROW)
alan skeoch
august 24, 2018
“What’s  going on?”
“Looks like a time warp…those tractors date back to the 1950’s and 1960’s…”
“Why  so  many on one field?”
“And  why pull two morrow  plows…obsolete as the pocket watch.”
“And three of the plowmen are not men at all…three women…”
“Special women…they are the QUEENS OF  THE FURROW.”

“Look at these guys…in serious combat.”
“Doing  what?”
“Competinng…with ancient tractors hauling two  furrow plows.”
“Why would  anyone in  their right mind  want to do such a  silly thing?”
“Their is a  romance to plowing that seems to have escaped from your head.”
“Romance?  Like  a love affair?”
“Precisely…let’s par the truck and  enjoy this magic moment.”
“How many of these plowmen and plowwomen are actually farming?
“Well there were 74,000 less farms  in Canada between 1991  and 2011…that left 205,730…and since  then a lot more have disappeared.”
“Farms  don’t disappear/“
“You are correct…they get bought by bigger  farmers…corporations. There was  a time that 100 acres was a viable farm in Ontario.  Now
a farmer  needs nearly 400 acres to succeed.”
“See those tractors  at this Halton County Plowing match”
“All kinds of them.”
“Every one obsolete…too small.”
“Look over there…there’s a  young woman plowing.”
“And  she has  some kind of  banner…”
“Banner says ‘Ontario Queen  of the Furrow 2017-2018”
“That will be the Donaldson girl… see the man watching?”
“Only man  watching, you mean.”
“Right.  That will be her dad,  Dough Donaldson…he’s an auctioneer.”
“Bet he has  seen a  big change in farming…”
“Right now he is coaching…trying to help his daughter win this plowing match.”

Message from Kailey Donaldson, 2017-2018 Ontario Queen of the Furrow

Receiving the title of Ontario Queen of the Furrow has been a remarkable experience thus far. I cannot thank the Ontario Plowmen’s Association enough for allowing this incredible opportunity to be available for young women. I started my rein as Ontario Queen by attending the Peterborough County Plowing Match. Since then I have travelled to many different banquets, parades and events throughout the province. I look forward to continuing to work with the 2018 Queen Committee as they plan a fantastic week for all the Queens!

To all the ladies in the Queen of the Furrow program, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, so make the most of this tremendous year ahead. As an unknown author once said, “You cannot plough a field by turning it over in your mind.”

I wish you all the best in the upcoming busy spring season, and look forward to meeting many of you at Plowing Matches across the province. Before you know it, September will be upon us and the 2018 International Plowing Match and Rural Expo will be showcased in Chatham-Kent! I’d like to extend my best wishes to all the many great volunteers who will make this event possible. I could not be more proud and excited to represent the Ontario Plowmen’s Association and to be a part of history!

“Another Queen of the Furrow driving that Ford tractor…two  furrow plow competition..”
“And here  comes still another Queen  of the Furrow…Halton County Queen.  Must  be  a Queen for every County in Ontario at the big plowing match.”
THREE PLOWMEN IN STRAW HATS  WITH A COCKSHUTT 35
“Real family  affair, right?”
“You got it…and we’re competing with old Mr. Fisher’s Cockshutt deluxe 35…unchanged…no new  paint
to disturb the  old girl.”
STORY :  MEMORY (BELOW)
THE SAGA OF OUR FARMALL  A TRACTOR:  LIFE AND DEATH OF  A MACHINE
“Holy Smoke…look at that…a Farmall A, market gardening tractor from 1950’s…touches me deeply
both joy and sadness.”
“Grow up.”
“No,  really,  that was our  first tractor…bought it from Al  Fox for $350 which  was a  lot of money
in 1965…waste of  money dad said.
“He  turned out to be correct as I remember.”
“That’s the sad part of the story…only owned the machine for that one glorious summer.”
“If you learned  to take care of things the disaster wouldn’t have happened.”
‘Hardly a disaster…no one hurt.”
“wrecked the tractor though.”
“How was I to know the radiator was filled with water…assumed anti-freeze.”
“Remember that winter  morning when you checked it…parked out behind  the  back house for the winter.”
“Yep…engine block was split as if  cleaved with an  axe…ruined…traded it to the scrap  man Elmer Plaister
for a roller and set of  harrows.  Both useless.”
“Takle  a look at the Formal A below,  enough to make  a grown  man  cry.”
AUTUMN  OF  1965
“Let me me share  the  sense  of wonder we had  when we bought it.  $350.   Dad said I was a  “goddamned  fool to waste my money”.  But that did  not stop him
from helping me plow the front field.  I am  sure the local farmers laughed at us.  Used  a decrepit single furrow plow
made  for horses. Take a look below.
That’s me driving…trying to plow straight furrows.  Rather, I was trying to keep dad in a straight line. He
was holding the handles.  He cursed and yelled
all that fall afternoon as we went back  and forth.  We laughed so much that tears ran down our
faces.  Dad called the plow a “son  of a bitch” as  if that was  a  term of endearment.
That’s  mom way  back behind laughing as tears ran down her  face. this
stupid venture was a family affair.  Mom’s parents had recently died. Wonderful people.
Granddad and Grandma  Freeman.  They liked Dad  in spite of his ribald humour and
cursing.  We were a happy family.
“Our furrows were nowhere near the knife edge straight lines  carved by the Halton Plowmen and Plowwomen
at the plowing match.  Not even close.  The occasional rock  in our field  nearly pitched Dad  over the plow
handles which made him holler with great glee, “stop the goddamn tractor”.
SUMMER OF 1965
Here is a  better picture of  the Formal A.  Beautiful machine.  In this picture we have
hooked the Freeman Democrat to the drawbar.  Not pretty but functional…sort of.
Could be used to haul sacks of cucumbers  to the crossroad.
Why?  Because that year we had  a  contract to grow cucumbers  for Mathews Wells
pickle factory in Guelph.  Pickles sold under the name Rose Brand.  My cousin Ted
worked for them.  “do you want to really farm, Alan, try  cucumbers.”  So we did…Eric, Marjorie and I. Our cucumber field
produced  lots of cucumbers…big fat ones, long crooked ones and  a few small perfect
cucumbers which were the kind the factory wanted.  We picked  then sacked them all up in grain bags
and hauled  them up to the crossroad for pick up.  Lots of sacks full.  But not many
desirable cures.  Most of ours were dumped.   No one eats big yellow cakes or short
knobby cukes or short crooked cakes. Rejected. At the end of the season we received
a  check for $58.  Our costs were 20 times  that measly $58.  That was  when
it dawned  on me that farming was a  tough game with many losers and only a few
winners.   I  don’t know  if cousin Ted Freeman was  disappointed or amused.  I suspect
the  latter.
“What is that building in the background?”
“My  barn…built from scrap  wood that drifted  into Sunnyside  beach in Toronto.”
“Looks unprofessional.”
“Truth…damn thing  fell down  before winter came…no place to store
the Formal A.”
“Luck  seems to escape you.”
“Left handed…tools are made  for right handed people.”
“Lame excuse.”
“Dad could be infuriating at times but he also had a kind of charisma…some people loved him.”
“Some hated him.”
“True…he had a term for his detractors.”
“Like?”
“Called them ‘mealy mouthed sons of bitches’ or worse.”
“Loved  the horses though”
“Spent most of  his spare time at various racetracks in Ontario…even as far as
Batavia Downs in New  York State.”
“Whose   money?”
“His own for starters … and money he could beg, borrow or  steal from anyone
naive  enough to believe his blather.”
“Grade  8 education and a  few months in  Grade 9 at Fergus District  High  School.”
“Did  he quit?”
“not exactly…he was  booted out and  asked  to come back  with his  father.”
“Booted  out of  school?”
“Yes…he  and  a friend  thought up a great joke that backfired on them.”
“Joke?”
“Sort of a joke…bad  taste joke … bothered  dad because  it ended  his education.”
“What did they do?”
“Girls and  boys  had  separate  back  houses…toilets…outside  the school in 1915…wooden affairs  with
trap  doors  for clean out.”
“This does  not sound nice.”
“Depends on your sense  of  humour I guess.”
“And?”
“And  they  got some nice  big snowballs…lifted the trap  door and fired them up at a bum.”
“Not very funny.”
“They were young…farmers kids…thought it was  a  great joke.”
“Bad result?”
“Very bad.  Dad never went home…principal wanted him to come  back  with his  father. Instead
dad hid in the  swamp…stayed at a neighbours for a bit and then headed for Saskatchewan
and his first job.”
“Doing?”
“Gets us back  to horses.  He  spent the winter of 1915-16 alone in a barn with 16 horses.  No
farm house…just the barn.   Dad slept there.  Horses  kept the barn fairly warm and  dad
tended  them while the winter winds coursed the prairies.”
“Did he do the plowing in the spring?”
“Not sure what happened…know  he spent several years on the Harvest crews.  He lived
a  rough life for sure.  Then headed back east to become  a  tire  builder…big boom in rubber
work as motorized vehicles…cars,  trucks,  tractors…replaced  horses in 1920’s.”
“Lots of race horses though.”
“Lots  of racing  tracks around…Duifferin, Thornclille, Woodbine, Fort Erie, Batavia. etc.”
“Any more  stories?”
“Too many…filled 300 pages of them…this is enough though for now.”
BACK TO THE PLOWING MATCH:  HALTON COUNTY AUGUST 2018
Cover of IPM 2018 Exhibitor Information handbook
“Plowing  is one of  the great pleasures in life.”
ALAN  SKEOCH
AUGUST 2018

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