A FRENCH FARM.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 263, 5 November 1932, Page 1 (Supplement)

A FRENCH FARM.

HARD WORK AND CONTENT.

COLONIAL'S IMPRESSIONS.

(By T.F.L.)

The Pyrenees lie almost cxactly between the same parallels of latitude' as North Canterbury. On the slopes of this range, in the valleys and on the nearby plains, thousands of French and Spanish peasants gain their livelihood from the soil. But, though natural conditions are almost identical, their lives in no way correspond with the life of a New Zealand farmer. On the upper waters of the Garonne the average farm is about thirty acres—a minute area beside a 50,000acre station of the Hanmer district. The peasant does not know the mortgage nightmare. He buys his land field .by field, as he can afford to pay for it. So a farm may not be in one block. Fields are sometimes shared. I was sliown a three-acre hay field that was divided among twenty people. An owner who does not wish to farm his own land engages a "farmer," often an Italian, to do it for him. The owner then docs nothing whatever, but tlib produce is equally divided. A wheat crop of, twenty sacks means ten each, a litter of twelve pigs, six each, and so on. No Fences. There are no fences. There is not even a word in the French language for our word fence. The fields'are divided by roads, streams, trees, hedges, or just by odd pegs. Naturally owners do not live on their land. They cluster together in villages where each has a garden, a large yard, and a stable and barn, which are usually ■ part of the house. The garden is full of fruit trees and vegetables. The Frenchman has little use for flowers unless they are of monetary value. Once a week is market day. Everyone, whether there is business to bo done or not, spends the day at the nearest small town. Of course, each town has a 'separate day,, so it is possible for a man to do two or more markets a week. It is difficult for us to conceive a farmer having produce to sell once' a month, let alone once a week. A glance into a yard will help us to realise what a complex mixture this farming is. The master lias just arrived home with bundles of sticks, which are placed neatly on the already large pile. Firewood for the year is collected in winter, as there is no time in the summer. He is now grooming his two' cows before putting tliem in their shed for the night. Above, one can see some of last season's maize crop which will be forced down 'the throats of geese and ducks. They become over-fat, contract a disease of the liver, and then are killed for their valuable foie gras. In the yard some fowls are still running about, but most have found a sheltered place for the night. In a corner is the old' sow, which, with -his cows, is the peasant's most treasured possession. "Ah, yes," complained one to a friend of mine, "I've had a terrible year. Lost my pig and cow and my wife." The pig supplies .the year's meat. It is killed in January or February and tlio meat preserved. Meat is worth about ninepence per pound, while a four-montlj.-old.pig can be sold for about £2. February is the month for "boudins," which are sausages made from odd pieces of raw pig. When fried they are a rich, reddish black colour, and taste delicious. ... The All-purpose Cow. The cow has three functions. It produces young, tho steers being sold for the townspeople's table, the heifers beinc kept. If they waited and bought heifers, they would have to pay about £10 each for them. The second use is doing all the work that in New Zealand is done by horses, tractors or cars, ploughing, harrowing, raking, topdressing, and all carrying work of manure, firewood, farm produce, animals and also people. Thirdly, it provides the family with milk, which is naturally neither rich nor plentiful. Still, I don t think that the woman is of less worth than the cow or the sow. Here is one on her way to the fields. It is early, but she has finished the housework and is off for tho real day s work. After it she will return and prepare the evening meal. As she walks she knits, while a cow and cart follow. A dog gambols near by to hurry along the cow. Apart from this the only use of the dog seems to consist of barkincr at strangers. We reach a field where a little stubble lias been left from the last liaj crop. This is carefully gathered to mix with the manure in the yard. She is grateful for my help and offers to provTde me with a wife if I settle down in the village. I leave her and talk with her husband. He is ploughing for the potato crop. His team of four cows seem to be doing "■ood work. He tells me that land costs about 5000 francs per hectare, which is about £20 per acre. He is proud of his wheat, which is about six inches high, and which later will be scythed or sickled. He is assured a good price for it, because of the quota system. Beyond, "■randmother in her black dress and black hodil knits peacefully as she watches his herd of 20 sheep. Peasants only have sheep' if there are very young or very old in the family who can look after them. As with the other animals they are kept inside at night. Calculated at the present rate of exchange ewes cost about £3 each, fat lambs biing in £2, but wool is only worth about fivepence per pound. The peasant points out his son who is pruning the vines on the hillside. The majority make their own wine. They believe that they will not have strength enough to work unless they drink wine at least once a day. It is late and grandmother is on her way home. She walks along knitting, and her small flock follows. A Contented People. One might think that with all this produce families would live very comfortably. They do not. What will bring in money must be sold. The peasant eats sparingly. At daybreak he has some dry bread. Peasants never eat butter. He works till 8 o'clock when he has coffee, bread, and perhaps some of his preserved pork. At midday he has pork or stew, bread and wine. At 5 o'clock tea in the fields with bread and perhaps more pork. For dinner more pork, more bread and more wine. Of course he does better on Sundays and fete'days, but pork, bread and wine is his regular diet. He demands no recreation and few comforts. But he derives great pleasure from market days, from walking about his property and from chats over a glass of wine. And with all this hand work and these few simple pleasures, _he is one of the most contented men in "the •world, • a s j