Farm Chess

Farmer Giles stood in his field at one corner of the eight by eight grid of squares that he’d whitewashed onto his land. One hand was resting in the pocket of his muddy Barbour jacket, one hand stroked his chin while he stared intensely out from under the peak of his flatcap. In each square of the row nearest to him stood a pure white animal: a pig, a horse, a sheep, a bull, a cow, a sheep, a horse and a pig again. In the square in front of each animal stood a white goose. Bessie, Farmer Giles’ faithful border collie wandered up and down the ranks like a sergeant, checking that each animal was in it’s place.

Farmer Hodgkins stood at the far end of the board, next to a similar arrangement of black animals. His bobtail sheepdog was inspecting the troops, occasionally rounding a nervous goose back into the exact centre of the square or outflanking a horse that was considering backing off the board.

Farmer Giles put his index finger and thumb into his mouth, gave a high pitched whistle and yelled out “Haway Bess! Pawn to queen four! Good girl! Good girl! Whoa there! Whoa now! Good girl!”. Bessie quickly rounded up the Goose and crouching, drove her forward two squares. The game was afoot, literally.

Farmer John, the arbiter, was sitting behind a desk halfway down the board. As Bess put the goose in position Farmer John pulled a lever on a huge dual faced chess clock that made irregular clanking noises and seemed to be powered by cheese.