I never "paunched" or gutted a rabbit, as that was my father's job.  He would give the cat the liver to eat.  Sometimes, with both my brother and myself catching rabbits, there could be as many as eight rabbits waiting on the pantry floor when my father came home from work.  We would give the rabbits away to other villagers, especially the elderly, who couldn't catch their own rabbits.  We described the rabbits as two parts, three parts or four parts grown. Four parts was a fully-grown rabbit.

If we saw a pregnant rabbit, which we called a Milky Doe, we left it alone as it would produce more rabbits and its meat was not considered fit to eat. We all lived on rabbit meat cooked in many different ways.  When we were waiting for the rabbits to start running, we would pick brambles.  Rabbit pie followed by bramble pie was food fit for the gods.  Most of us could catch rabbits in snares as well.

Before setting out to go rabbiting, our parents might tell us to catch one with a humped back so that it would keep the crust up on the rabbit pie.  In grass meadows, rabbits would make a kind of nest in tufts of grass and sit in them all day.  We called them rabbit seats and the rabbits would feel very safe in them because they were virtually invisible.  If you knew how to find them, you could walk up to them and simply pick them up as if producing a rabbit out of thin air.  It was the easiest way of all to catch a rabbit.  When I was in the RAF in the beautiful county of Somerset, and surrounded by grass meadows, I would walk along with my friends and suddenly produce a rabbit as if by magic.  Many of them, never having even seen a rabbit before, were amazed.  Some thought of me as the Lincolnshire Poacher.

Although hares look similar to rabbits, they are a completely different animal.  They live alone in open fields or in woods, are much bigger and very much faster.  If a rabbit is a Mini, a hare is a Ferrari.  Their sense of hearing is phenomenal and they can see the slightest movement, but their weakness is that if you stand motionless and perfectly silent, you will be invisible to them.  If they are coming your way, they will carry on as if you are not there.  I have had them running all around my feet and occasionally they have actually stood on my feet.  It is a wonderful feeling to share a few moments with such a magnificent, free and wild creature. If you make the slightest sound, like breathing out too quickly, or moving your weight from one foot to another, you will not see them again.

The best way to become close to most wild animals is to remain silent and motionless.  I have been within six feet of wild deer in both Lincolnshire and the Scottish Highlands, simply by standing still.  I have the impression that you have to be calm, relaxed and only have friendly feelings towards them to get close to them.  They seem to sense tension and aggression and stay away from you.  I am not sure if the same applies to crocodiles.

Before combine harvesters, corn either was cut by, tractor drawn, or, horse drawn, binders. They cut the corn and put it into sheaves, which were tied together with binder band. Sometimes the string would break or come undone and we could all make an instant rope with corn and tie the sheaf together again.  I tried to make a rope recently and failed completely.  I have absolutely forgotten how to do it, and do not know anyone who can help me.  Shortly after the corn was cut, a gang of men would go into the field and taking a sheaf of corn under each arm, put them into stooks,  (we pronounced it stowkes).  There would be four or five sheaves on each side of a tent shape in order to dry out the corn.  It was not particularly hard work, but when I did it, the inside of my arms, from the wrists to the bends were red raw with the constant rubbing of the corn.  The secret was, of course, to wear very thick sleeves but it was in the very hot month of August and the sun was high over the yardarm.

After the corn had dried, it was carried away to the stack-yards at the farm and put into high stacks, which looked like neat rows of houses, especially as each stack was thatched with straw to keep the rain out.  Loading the trailers in the field was quite hard work and I was not allowed to do it as I was considered too small, but I was allowed to drive the tractor which had to be stopped and started and driven from one stook to the next for loading to take place.  There were no lower age limits on driving machinery then.  If you were five years old and were able to drive a tractor, you would have been encouraged to do so.  I drove a Ferguson tractor, which we called a Little Harry.  I had never driven a tractor or anything else in my life but they said there was nothing to it and I was given all of ten seconds of instruction, and then let loose on the farming community.  I never did get the hang of the clutch and it took a good man to remain upright on the trailer as I took off.  They said that it was the most exciting time they had ever had, and were certain that I was the worst driver in Lincolnshire.

In the autumn the corn was threshed, which removed the corn from the straw.  A big steam-driven traction engine drove the threshing machine by means of long dangerous looking belts.  The sheaves of corn were fed into one end, the corn came out of one place, and the straw and chaff came out of another.  In was a filthy, dirty, dusty job, but there was one exciting aspect of it.  The stacks were often alive with rats, which looked upon the stacks as large, well-stocked, private larders, and sometimes wire netting was put round the stacks and dogs were let loose among them.  I have seen dead rats piled three feet high. It is a horrible sight, as all country people absolutely loathe rats. [Continued]