ON THE FARM
Norway is not like England, where nearly every bit of ground is
cultivated, for nothing will grow on bare rocks, and a good deal of
Norway is barren land. In fact, except in the low country down in the
south, the only land worth cultivating lies, as a rule, in the valleys
near the fjords. There are situated all the farms, sometimes with small
orchards of apples and cherries, but more often with potato plots,
a little corn, and a great amount of grassland. As the mountains
are always so close at hand, the fields are generally strewn with
rocks and boulders, and are very uneven, so haymaking is not easy,
and such a thing as a mowing-machine would be quite useless.
Every blade of grass that can be gathered has to be made into hay,
otherwise the ponies and cows would starve in the winter, as they
are often snowed up for weeks at a time. Haymaking is, therefore, a
great business, and the amount of grass which the Norwegians contrive
to scrape off their land is marvellous. At the best of times it only
grows to a height of about six inches, but scythes and reaping-hooks
find their way into every nook and corner, and grass that no English
farmer would trouble to cut is all raked in with the greatest
care. Parties go up the mountain-sides to ledges of the cliffs, and
on to the tops of the mountains, to make sure that nothing is wasted,
the grass being brought down to the farms to be dried.
Long wires may be seen stretching from the valleys away up, thousands
of feet, to the tops of the mountains, and on these the bundles of
grass are tied, to come swirling down to the farmstead. There is no
time in the short Northern summer to make the hay as we make it, and
there is usually so much rain that the grass would never dry at all
if left lying on the ground; so long hurdles are put up in positions
where they will catch the sun and the wind, and on them the grass
is hung up to dry, there remaining until it has made itself into
hay. Afterwards it is stored in covered barns ready for winter use.
The corn, also, is dried in a peculiar manner. As it is cut it is made
up into small sheaves, a number of these being tied, ears downwards,
to a pole planted upright in the ground. This makes drying rapid,
and, if wet weather sets in, the rain runs off freely. A field of
these wheat-stacks has a very odd appearance at a little distance,
and near the woods one sees similar, though somewhat larger, stacks
of branches and leaves, on which the goats are fed in the winter.
Directly the snow has melted off the mountains the flocks and herds
are sent up to the highland pastures (sæters), usually in charge of the
younger women and girls of the farm, and there, throughout the summer,
the dairy work is carried on. As in all mountainous countries, rich
and sweet herbage follows the melting of the snow, and the cows and
goats give an abundance of good milk, which is turned into butter and
cheese, to be sold or consumed in the winter. Life at the sæter-hut,
or mountain farm, is healthy and delightful, though much hard work
has to be got through each day.
Children seldom go to the sæters until old enough to be able to do
real work, but one often sees a girl of fourteen or so looking after
a flock of goats. She will be out with them all day as they feed
on the mountain-sides, and will do all the milking. When seen for
the first time this is rather an amusing operation, and decidedly a
practical one. The milkmaid seizes a goat, straddles her, with face
towards the goat's tail, and, stooping down, proceeds to milk. From
a little distance all you see is the goat's hind-legs emerging from
beneath a blue petticoat, which looks most peculiar.
But the children who are too young to spend the summer at the sæters
find plenty to do at home, and they learn almost as soon as they
can toddle that there is work for everyone. Quite small boys and
girls manage to do a good day's haymaking, and they can row a boat or
drive a _carriole_ before they have reached their teens. Such things
they regard as amusements, for they have few other ways of amusing
themselves, and their one ambition is to do what their fathers and
mothers do.
In some cases the small farmers move their whole families up to the
mountain pastures for the summer; and, in addition to the dairy work,
they rent the fishing on some of the mountain lakes, which they
net freely. The trout thus caught are split open and salted down
in barrels, eventually being sent down to the markets in the towns,
where they fetch a good price. And all these peasants possess rifles,
and are keen sportsmen, so that when August comes they go in pursuit
of the wild reindeer, and lay up a store of meat, which, salted and
dried, comes in very handy in the hard times of winter.
As a rule the peasants eat very little meat, and what they do eat has
probably been smoked and dried and hung up for several months. A good
deal of salt fish is consumed; but the principal food is porridge
(_gröd_), made of barley, rye, or oatmeal, and eaten generally with
sour buttermilk, with the addition of potatoes, when plentiful. White
bread is not found far from the towns, and the black, or rye, bread
is a heavy compound, a taste for which takes an Englishman some time
to acquire. But even that is superior to the _fladbröd_, which in
appearance and consistency resembles old boot-leather.
The well-to-do farmer lives more sumptuously. He occasionally has fresh
meat and fresh fish, and the dried articles nearly every day. He also
indulges in cheese, usually of the commoner kind, known as _prim_,
or _mysost_, which is not unlike brown Windsor soap. There are two
other native cheeses, but they are considered somewhat expensive
luxuries. They are called _gammelost_ and _pultost_, and are made
from sour skimmed milk, being afterwards kept in a dark cellar for
a year or so to ripen. The latter is the greater delicacy, and is
stored, in a sloppy state, in wooden tubs. If you should ever chance
to see one of the tubs being produced, do not wait to see it opened,
or your nose will never forget it!
Verily, winter is the bugbear of the struggling Norwegian countryman's
existence. Like the provident ant, he spends the greater part of the
summer in laying up for the winter, and he has not only himself and his
family to think of, but also his cattle, for if the latter cannot be
properly housed and fed he will be ruined. There are times, however,
when he contrives to throw off the constant thought of the future,
and when he can enjoy himself thoroughly. Sunday is a day of rest,
with possibly a long row across the fjord to church, after which
comes a good gossip with the neighbours, and the chance of a feast
at a friend's farm. There are also high-days and holidays, weddings
and christenings, accompanied by plentiful food and drink, as well
as by dancing and fiddling.
But when the snow covers up the country the days are none too exciting,
though the cattle have to be fed and many odd jobs attended to. Most
of the men are handy carpenters, and can make such things as dairy
utensils, while the women in many parts weave sufficient cloth to keep
the whole family clothed. By the younger men, however, the season is
looked forward to as a time of real enjoyment. Then it is that they
get out their snowshoes and enter with zest into the grand sport
of ski-ing, or, taking their guns with them, go off on their ski to
shoot ryper or hares for the market.
Such is the life of the ordinary small farmer and peasant; but down
by the fjords and on the beaten track of the foreign tourists the
larger farmer has grasped the situation, and has discovered the value
of having more than one string to his bow. So in summer he combines
hotel-keeping with farming. His farm produce is consumed in his hotel,
and if he is fortunate enough to have a salmon river flowing through
his land, he can be certain of a good rent for it. Thus the prosperous
farmer becomes a person of some importance in the district, and one
day, perhaps, a Member of the Storthing, or Parliament.