THE CAR PARK out at the mart in Enniscorthy was packed last Thursday, the wintry sun gleaming off a shimmering sea of cars and jeeps. What, your intrepid reporter wondered, was going on to attract such a horde to the Old Dublin Road? Were there cut-price pedigree cattle on offer? Or was a giveaway of scintillating Suffolk sheep in progress? Not a bit of it!

The action was taking place, not in or around the sawdust of the sales rings, but out in the open air of the yard. And the lots on offer did not enter the arena on their own four legs but rather were dumped in all their rusty, battered decrepitude on the ground for examination by potential customers.

Yes, the mart was staging one of its quarterly machinery sales, a species of agricultural car boot sale on a gigantic scale. I can honestly state that I have never in all my born days seen such an assemblage of junk. It appeared that every farm in the district had been undergoing a spring clean and anything which needed throwing out was thrown out in the yard at the mart in the hope of raising a few bob.

Many of the items on display were obscurely unidentifiable to your town-bred correspondent, who has yet to learn the difference between a harrow and a hay rake. As far as I am concerned a front loader is a type of washing machine – not that washing machines are what I would nominate as my specialist subject any more than second-hand tractor accessories.

Christie's of London have been holding auctions in the same august King Street venue since 1823. Nothing could be further removed in tone from the proceedings in close to zero temperatures at Kilcannon last Thursday. Yet, though they may not deal in impossibly delicate Korean art or inlaid walnut furniture, these quarterly machinery sell-offs have also built up a noble tradition of their own over the years.

There is a calendar of such events that also takes in venues like Goresbridge, Ashford and Carnew. The presence of so many non-WX registrations in the car park at Enniscorthy underlined that there are those who follow the circuit, all hoping to pick up a bargain and rendezvous with old friends. Yes, this was a social gathering as much as a business occasion.

But farmers are different. For different, read cracked. Where other sections of the community arrange to meet in snug places where amenities such as kettles and ceilings come as standard, farmers perversely prefer to assemble in the great outdoors, whatever the season. They turn up in February knowing that if it is not freezing, then it is almost certain to be raining. And they don't give a damn.

At last week's sale, the weather-immune attendance was treated to underfoot conditions reminiscent of national ploughing championships. A thin layer of liquid mud covered much of the yard, while a breeze whipped in from somewhere not too far from Vladivostok. Yet they chatted away cheerfully, the hardiest of them staying the course and standing in the mud for more than four hours.

What quickly became apparent was that most of them had come to keep their hands in their pockets. Whether it was the cold or the recession, they were deeply reluctant to part with any of the cash left since the last single farm payment cheque arrived from Brussels. Very little was stirring for auctioneer Tom Harrington as he made his way along the line of cast-off farm equipment, ranging from a fertiliser spreader to a device for weighing sheep. There was even a dung fork.

He managed to secure €1,500 for a fine, sturdy-looking trailer, but Tom had no luck with one battered-looking plough. 'We'll have to move along,' he declared waspishly as an offer of €900 fell well short of the amount required. Similarly scorned was a bid of just €200 for 21 plastic troughs. And there was no interest whatsoever for the higgledypiggledy collection of white pipes.

And what were we bid for the 1980-registered Polish-made Ursus tractor? Just €1,000, that's what! 'Too far away!' said the auctioneer haughtily before stalking on to the next lot.

As one shrewd observer commented, in the good times, someone would have been happy to take it off his hands, given that the tyres alone on the Ursus were probably worth more than a grand. But no-one was prepared to take a punt in these days of economic downturn.

One vendor was chuffed to be heading back to Ballindaggin with €2,500 (less commission) for his four-furrow Kverneland plough. Strictly entre nous, he would have settled for less. Other wouldbe sellers moseyed home with less of a smile on their faces, like the owner of a 1958 Fordson tractor, glowingly restored in blue with orange trim since it was acquired at a sale in Goresbridge.

The evidence last week was that the bottom has fallen out of the vintage market along with everything bid else. He preferred to lug the Fordson home to Wexford rather than accept a bid which was only half way to the €3,000 he was hoping for.

Tom Harrington and his colleague John Cullen faced an uphill battle. Among all the hundreds present, there was no-one prepared to match the reserves on the six massive steel trusses, or on the job lots of assorted rubber tyres, or on the jumble of cement stakes or on the black plastic footbath (for someone or something with very, very big feet). At least someone in a woolly hat bought the dung fork, for €125.

Maybe things will have picked up when the next sale takes place in three months' time.

- David Medcalf