Guid Man’s Croft

The midden is certainly not the Guid Man’s croft, although those who have had a run in with the former, might think otherwise.

The midden was a place we, as kids, we’re warned away from, for they could be dangerous on account of the manure acids and bacteria biting down through the ground, often to unknown depths. Seems surprising, but it’s true. Middens can be like shifting sands at the ocean, capable of swallowing anything that thought to go onto them.
Old McDonald, we’ll call him, got to know his midden firsthand; when returning home from town with his new car – back in the days of solid tires – full of himself and far too much drink, turned left in his farmyard instead of right and drove straight into the midden.
The neighbourhood talked about the incident for months, for the car immediately began to settle into the muck and Old McDonald, for his life, had to scramble up onto its roof. His farmhands, delighted at the situation, cheeky blighters, kept asking, as the car sank lower and lower, if they should rescue the farmer, or his brand new vehicle, for it was obvious they couldn’t do both. McDonald came away from the disaster with his life, but the vehicle was never seen again, not even after that midden was drained and emptied.

The Guid Man’s croft is the small piece of land which every God-fearing farmer will never touch, never walk in, never turn over, for usually the land is poor. The Guid Man is the Devil, the croft is his place on Earth, but just as importantly, it is where the wild things can survive safely and reproduce without fear of interference from man.
We need more of those places now, Devil or not. Populations of small wild animals, birds and insects are under threat, and will soon be no more if they are not protected by us all.
The dissemination of seeds, pollination of trees and plants depend on their distribution by these creatures; surely we will be in a bad way if that’s not done.


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