Fowl play – the joys of a country bobby

ONE of the tasks of a rural beat officer was to issue farmers with licences to move animals when any disease was present. In the early Seventies, Swine Vesicular Disease was prevalent and farmers could only move pigs to markets for slaughter. In order to do so, they would visit the police house and collect a licence.

All the farmers knew in advance when they would need the licence and for how many pigs. However, one particular farmer decided that he would apply for this licence about 6am one morning. As I had only finished duty some four hours earlier, I wasn't best pleased to see him.

He informed me that he was moving some pigs to Beverley market that morning and would I issue him with a licence? I reminded him of the time and enquired why he couldn't have called the previous evening or a little later. He replied: "Us farmers don't work by the clock, with animals it's not a nine to five job." I issued him with the necessary paperwork.

The following week I was working a 6am to 2pm shift, it was a Sunday morning and I was hoping to detect a few poachers on Lord Hotham's Estate. However, before making my way to South Dalton I decided to visit my early morning farmer friend.

I arrived at his farm shortly after 6am and knocked on his front door, after a while his head appeared through an upstairs bedroom window. "What's the problem?" I replied that there was no problem; I just wanted to examine his farm records and sign them as the law required. He said: "What, at this time of day?" To which I replied: "Us policemen don't just work nine to five, we are never off duty." Needless to say, he never knocked me up again for a licence.

Being a County Force, many of the crimes related to animals or our feathered friends. During the 1950s, senior officers were particularly concerned about the theft of poultry from farms around the East Riding. Special patrols were ordered in which officers, assisted by Special Constables, set up check-points at various crossroads.

These varied each day and were carried out during the hours of darkness. Every vehicle arriving at these checks was stopped and searched for stolen chickens.

It was with this background that intelligence was received that a farmer in the Market Weighton area was suspected of stealing poultry on a large scale.

He was thought to be committing the offence during the hours of darkness, bringing them back to his farm and then selling them on, as his own stock.

It was decided that observations should be kept on his farm during the night and that an officer from another division should carry out the first of these observations. Constable Ken Foxton, who was stationed at South Cave, was selected for this duty.

He went in the late evening and took up a position behind a large hedge which was about one field away from the farm. From this position he could see the back of the farmhouse and the farm buildings and also the long drive that led to all these buildings, the perfect observational position.

It was an extremely cold night and with nothing happening, a very long night for Ken. He was therefore pleased that daybreak was approaching, particularly as a keen frost had arrived. However, about 6am he noticed that lights had come on in the farmhouse and that someone was seen moving about. Pc Foxton had at last something to think about, other than that warm bed awaiting him at the South Cave Police House.

A short time later, the back door of the farmhouse opened and with strained and tired eyes Ken could make out the outline of a woman, she was carrying something on what appeared to be a tray.

The Constable could feel the warmth slowly returning to his frozen body, as he watched intently at the figure coming towards him.

He was still well-hidden behind the hedge and was confident that his presence was not about to be discovered.

However, upon nearing the hedge the lady called out to PC Foxton : "It will have been cold for you, being out here all night, so I've brought you a mug of tea."

The officer thanked the lady for her kindness, drank the tea and made his way home to South Cave. There were no more observations kept at that particular farm.

Extracts from: Police Incidents Of The Humorous Kind by Ken Brooke, 5.50 including postage, from Ken Brooke, Dalbeg, Main Street, Leconfield, HU17 7NQ. Part of the proceeds go to Yorkshire Cancer Research.

CW 24/7/10