Celebrating the mystery and magic of Kelso sales

I RECENTLY read a report by a motoring correspondent who decided that instead of putting the latest flashy sports car through its paces he would go out to the country and test drive a combine.

After getting over the fact that this model was similar in colour to a famous racing car, there followed a list of surprises about the workings of the machine.

So instead of being carried away with the writing and the cleverness of the report, I came away with yet more evidence of the chasm that exists between those who grow the nation's food and those who eat it.

A few years ago at harvest time, I was asked by a friend who lives in one of the built-up areas of the country "what were those big round things in the fields?".

Eventually I realised he was asking about big round straw bales… did I mention feeling a chasm of ignorance?

I had been thinking the gap had been narrowed of late. A few television programmes have fairly and accurately carried the ups and downs of producing food and reduced the intelligence ravine between the urbanites and the country dwellers.

That is to be welcomed: the more people who understand how food is produced, the better it is for all those working and earning a living off the land.

But the combine test drive did lead me to wonder what other aspects of farming life would appear to be alien to non-country folk. For instance, if someone from a non-farming background stepped onto Springwood Park, Kelso this Friday what would they make of the chatter around the 14 sale rings?

The Kelso tup sales are very much a farming event where there is as much exchange of gossip and information as there is a changing of ownership of 5,000-plus sheep.

The visitor will this year definitely soon catch the optimism in the industry - a quick comparison with last year's figures would reveal that breeders have entered 609 more rams than 12 months ago, a sure sign of the buoyancy in the sector.

Dairy farmers, beef producers, chicken keepers and pig breeders are currently worrying themselves into a stew over rising input costs - in relative terms, the sheep farmer spends less on fuel, feed and fertiliser and the demand for lamb is strong.

The urban visitor might wonder why there are 17 different breeds and a host of different crosses of tups all willing and hopefully able to make their mark on flocks the length and breadth of the country.The answer the visitor might seek would be just that: the sale caters for a wide range of buyer.

Some 172 years have passed since the first sale of rams at Kelso and over the years the event has grown to a point where flockmasters from all over the UK come to what is regarded as the biggest one-day sale of rams.

And if the visitor was financially gifted he or she could sit back and mentally reckon how much money is changing hands in front of their face. Last year, with a final figure of 2,382,885, money was being transferred from buyer to seller via one of the nine auction companies at the sale at a rate of about 300,000 every hour.

Having done these sums, the visitor might notice the "tup taxis" that scoot about taking the animals from the sale pens to their new owner's transport and understand why the roads leading out of Kelso on Friday night have great trails of little sheep floats pulled behind pick-ups.

I did miss out the possibility of the visitor walking around the sale pens trying to avoid tripping over bags of cabbages. This might be considered strange for any non-countryman who only sees sheep in grass fields. I would urge any visitor to curb any curiosity about the feeding of cabbages as this is a mighty touchy subject in the sheep business.

You see, even for someone who does know a little about the subject, Kelso tup sales are not always easy to report…