Like much else in the Craven countryside, the village blacksmith has become a victim of changing times. Years ago, he would be summoned early on frosty mornings to “sharpen” the shoes of horses. Hooping cart wheels was another old-time occupation. Dr Bill Mitchell, of Giggleswick, recalls some of the sights and sounds of the smithy - the blazing fire, roaring bellows and the ringing sound of hammer against anvil. Horses that were unbroken were likely to bite, kick or knock about the man who was attending them

Pictured here is Jonty Wilson, who was the blacksmith at Kirkby Lonsdale for more than 60 years.

Jonty knew the Craven area well. He spent part of his boyhood at a farm in Chapel-le Dale, married a lass from Rathmell and gave lots of lectures in the district.

For pleasure, he rode on horseback along many green tracks. The most notable venture was a ride across England with Nancy Spain, their venture being featured on the “wireless”, with which Jonty would become familiar, broadcasting more than 100 times.

There was a time, in the pre-tractor age, when a smithy was to be found in virtually every village and hamlet in the Craven district. Living at the Smithy Cottage at Arncliffe was Walter Edgar Armstrong, a native of Malham who was taught the trade of blacksmith by his father. He, in turn, had absorbed knowledge of this ancient craft from his father.

As with other smithies, the door bore hundreds of brand marks - “proofs” of horn-burns the blacksmith had made in metal for marking sheep. The smithy doors at Bolton Abbey were exceptionally well-marked, there being 1,500 impressions, each letter hand-made by the smith at the rate of about 30 a year. The marks looked incongruous when seen behind petrol pumps.

For years, the Bolton Abbey smithy was sustained by Jack Wood and his brother Donald. Theirs was not just of value to local sheep farmers. Horn burns (branding irons) were produced for flockmasters in various parts of the land. Some of our Craven smiths were artists in hot metal. Such a man was Jackie Holmes of Austwick. On Sundays, I might see him sitting on a steel at the door of the smithy. Above the door was his name and the words “Ornamental Smith”

Jackie was a dalesman I enjoyed meeting for a chat. This usually happened when he was spending time in the old smithy at Clapham, succeeding Mr Slater in this work. When the day’s work was over he invariably caught a Pennine bus for the homeward journey. So, indeed, did I. As we waited for the bus, there was time to chat. I had gathered that in t’owed days at Clapham the local smith was also a dentist. A local child thought twice about admitting he or she had an aching tooth for the process was for the patient to sit on an old sofa. The blacksmith yanked out the offending tooth – with pincers!

In the early 1950s, when I sometimes travelled by bus from Skipton to Keighley, I would look out at Kildwick for the smithy that stood just across the road from the church. Another time, I visited what was then a busy workplace. I heard the musical sound of hammer on anvil and the spluttering of heated metal against the hoof of a patient horse. There might be a coughing spell when, momentarily, the horse became enveloped by a cloud of thick smoke.

Local needs at Kildwick were often attended by the Sibcy family from Gargrave. When I met Frank Shuttleworth, who had farmed for 60 years at Lothersdale and now resided in Kildwick, I heard about horses that had their shoes “sharpened” at Kildwick smithy. It was a necessary precaution in frosty weather. Frank also told me he had bought good, unbroken horses at Brough Hill fair for between £10 and £15.

Farmers over a wide area knew the Wilson family of Settle. I never walk down Kirkgate at Settle today without recalling the old smithy that stood close to the Victoria Hall in what used to be called “t’owd days”. When I chatted with Henry Wilson I discovered that his twin passions were associated with being a blacksmith and being the leader of a dance band.

At the time of our chat - the dawn of the 1950s - the smithy tradition had only a withering grasp on the world of the blacksmith. Henry observed: “Many of the old jobs in the trade are going. Tractors are taking t’place of horses on the farms.” His main work was now the repair of agricultural machinery.

There had been a comparatively recent addition on his noticeboard to the list of his jobs, the addition being oxy-acetylene welding. Sixty years before, Henry recalled, smithies could have been found at Lawkland, Rathmell, Stainforth and Wigglesworth.

A blacksmith might also be a first-rate artist. Wilfred Hoggart, whose smithy was at West Marton, spent no less than three years creating gates that would adorn the entrance to the new Gledstone Hall. These gates were mainly designed by Edwin Lutyens, the architect. They followed an 18th century precedent. Hoggart has an appropriate wrought iron memorial in the churchyard at Marton. The headpiece bears his initials and there is also the outline of an anvil.

The Man in a Leather Apron once played a notable part in the life of an area like the Dales. Sometimes he would travel around. Mostly he worked under cover. Red-hot metal rods were transformed - by a deft tapping, and shaping with long-handled tongs and heavy hammer - into shoes for horses. A blacksmith I greatly admired was Alf Limmer, of Settle. I filmed him in fine detail as he worked indoors, consulted some of his ledgers, recalled t’owd days - and shod a horse outdoors. This brief film is now in the archive at The Folly, Settle. It is sometimes shown to visitors on a television screen. Happily, the work of a local smith will live on in our memories.