Once, livestock for sale was displayed in the main street of Skipton and "all was filled wi' cattle an' noise."

There would also be a pungent smell from the assembled animals and townsfolk would have to watch where they were putting their feet.

I've chatted with men who remembered when cattle were on view in t'cattle market, a vast space, once divided up into pens, that is now a car park, approached alongside the Town Hall, at the head of the town. A bargain was clinched by a hand-clasp, and there was no going back.

That was a time when much of the stock came from the west of Ireland. Seventy years ago, they were described by one Craven grazier to the artist Ernest Forbes as "Rare bee-asts! They look like nowt, but fill aht surprisin' quick!"

At the auction mart, Forbes watched as "the harassed cow is put through her paces, while around the ring loom the men of Craven; lithe, weather-beaten men with whacking sticks, all crowding over the rail, and all engaged in a profound contemplation of the beast."

The auctioneer, nimble of speech, had "a dark, detecting eye". When his voice repeated several times the figures "twenty-four ten", there was an anguished cry from beside the ring: "Well, I'm not tekkin it!"

A Dales farmer attending an auction mart might appear nave, even dull-witted, but a razor-sharp mind operates behind the poker face.

In the case of sheep, the farmer on a pre-market tour of the pens suddenly lunges forward and places his hand across the loin of an animal. He applies pressure to the tail root, determining the general condition of the animal. Has it a good covering of flesh?

In due course, when bidding, he keeps his intentions between himself and the auctioneer. He shows interest by the movement of a finger on the crook of a stick or along the stem of a tobacco pipe.

I knew a man who affectionately clasped his best friend around the shoulders - and put his other hand to work to catch the auctioneer's eye, outside the range of his neighbour's vision.

Auction marts are not the jolly places they once seemed to be. They were social as well as business occasions. I remember rounds of hearty laughter in the cafes, when farmers munched pork pies and ham sandwiches. They seemed to like their tea well-mashed, hot as hell and black as t'fireback.

Changes in farming and the food industry have led to the closure of a number of small auction marts. An example is Otley Bridge End. It was set up in 1935 through the subscriptions of local farmers. It had been unprofitable for some time when the last stock went through the sale-ring.

With low prices, small commissions, fewer abattoirs and a stultifying degree of bureaucracy, the auction mart has become a doleful place unless it has latched on to an aspect of livestock farming that suits the times, such as at Skipton, where Yorkshire lamb is enthusiastically promoted.

There is non-stop variety for a stranger to a Dales auction mart such as Hawes, at the head of Wensleydale. Not having involvement in the place financially, he or she can savour the atmosphere created by packed benches around a sawdust ring and by the intoning voice of the auctioneer, who is like a high priest, presiding over some ancient ceremony.

The Dales auction marts long since cast away old forms of accountancy, such as bulky ledgers and scratchy pens. Computers are to be seen in the office. For all I know, some of the attendant farmers have lap-top computers and are keeping in touch with national trends in prices which, alas, have tended to decline.

One of the notable trends in Dales farming reflected at the auction marts, was the decline in the quality of cows bred at the hill farms. Years ago, these were Shorthorns, dual-purpose animals of note, hand-milked for home use, the surplus being converted into butter on the farm or sent to the nearest creamery to be made into cheese. The "blue milk" that remained when the cream had been taken off was fed to the calves - or to the farm man!

The Dales farmer envied those who lived nearer the towns and were able to sell their liquid milk. When, during the Second World War, the government stimulated the greater production of milk, it was collected in kits by motor lorries calling either at the farms or at roadside milk-stands.

No longer were quality cows being bred on the high farms; the farmers naturally went in for cows that made plenty of milk. In due course, it was the black-and-white Friesian cow that dominated our Dales auction marts.

When facilities at the farms did not meet stringent modern standards, the sad time arrived when milk production ended on most of the hill farms.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.