Fertility Pastures
Herbal leys as the basis of
soil fertility and animal health
by
Newman Turner
FABER AND FABER
24 Russell Square
London
First published in mcmlv
by Faber and Faber Limited
24 Russell Square London WC1
Printed in Great Britain by
Latimer Trend & Co Ltd Plymouth
All rights reserved
FOR MY WIFE
whose care and affection in providing
my 'pastures', make possible everything
I do in growing the pastures for my cattle
Acknowledgements
However much original work a book may describe, no writer can claim sole authorship. Many people have contributed to the effort which has produced this book.
My cows have demonstrated with unerring judgement the herbs which are essential to healthy production and the soil has responded in a remarkable way to the deep roots and mineral-rich leaves of the herbs. These are the basic facts of the whole story.
In bringing that story to book form, I have been specially grateful to my wife, for her patience and inspiration; to my secretary, Rae Thompson, for coping with every kind of task with never a thought of trade union hours; to Lucy Johnson for typing most of the manuscript; to John Newman for relieving me of the daily duties of herdsmanship and Lawrence D. Hills for many valuable suggestions and contributions in nursing the book into print. In the tiresome task of proof-reading the pen of my friend Peter D. Turner has saved me much toil.
I am ever indebted to Richard de la Mare and his colleagues of Faber and Faber Ltd., for the encouragement and understanding without which no farmer, especially this one, could ever sustain the effort needed to record his experiences in book form.
F. NEWMAN TURNER
April 1955
Contents
Illustrations
Plates 1, 2 18, 19 24, 28, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, and 35 are by Douglas Allen, Bridgewater; all other Photographs are by the Author.
Next in importance to the Divine profusion of water, light and airthese three great physical facts which render existence possiblemay be reckoned the universal beneficence of grass.
Grass is the most widely distributed of all vegetable beings, and is at once the type of our life and the emblem of our mortality. Lying in the sunshine among the buttercups and dandelions of May, scarcely higher in intelligence than the minute tenants of that mimic wilderness, our earliest recollections are of grass; and when the fitful fever is ended and the foolish wrangle of the market and forum is closed, grass heals over the scar which our descent into the bosom of the earth has made, and the carpet of the infant becomes the blanket of the dead.
Grass is the Forgiveness of Natureher constant benefaction. Fields trampled with battle, saturated with blood, torn with the ruts of the cannon grow green again with grass and carnage is forgotten. Streets abandoned by traffic become grass-grown, like rural lanes, and are obliterated. Forests decay, harvests perish, flowers vanish, but grass is immortal. Beleaguered by the sullen hosts of winter, it withdraws into the impregnable fortress of its subterranean vitality, and emerges upon the first solicitation of the spring. Sown by the winds, by wandering birds, propagated by the subtle horticulture of the elements which are its ministers and servants, it softens the rude outline of the world. Its tenacious fibres hold the earth in its place and prevent its soluble components from washing into the wasting sea. It invades the solitude of the deserts, climbs the inaccessible slopes and forbidding pinnacles of mountains, modifies climates, and determines the history, character and destiny of nations.
Unobtrusive and patient, it has immortal vigour and aggression. Banished from the thoroughfare and the field it bides its time to return and when vigilance is relaxed, or the dynasty has perished, it 'silently resumes the throne from which it has been expelled, but which it never abdicates. It bears no blazonry of bloom to charm the sense with, fragrance or splendour, but its homely hue is more enchanting than the lily or the rose. It yields no fruit in earth or air, and yet, should its harvest fail for a single year, famine would depopulate the world.
JOHN JAMES INGALLS,
'Bluegrass', Kansas Magazine, 1872.