|This tiny narrow drainage ditch is not usually visible from|
our hill top. Here the concrete 'kesh' bridges are submerged.
|The bridge is nearly up to its arches with the 'Desmond Depth'.|
|The local Lough is no mean body of water this week. The tiny|
white dots here are our wintering Whooper swans.
|My new favourite 'weapon', this old cleaver was once the|
property of John Walsh's Dad though he took to using it
in the cellar for chopping up kindling wood.
|Liz dons farmer's wife hands and starts plucking this monster.|
|Those massive wing feathers took some pulling.|
If you don't want to know how these big, living birds turn into oven ready, plastic wrapped carcasses then skip this and the next 2 paragraphs. Then, of course, there was the problem of how do you cleanly, painlessly and respectfully despatch such a big bird. The books talk of a rather gymnastic process involving standing up with your bird upside down holding his feet in your hands. Juggle a broom handle across his neck, stand on it and pull his legs upwards, breaking his neck. I was not at all convinced that I could do this quickly and cleanly and with no stress to the bird so I have to admit that I fell back on good old decapitation, the trusty meat cleaver and a big chunk of wood. Thunk. Job done, 100% certainty of death.
|A lively auction down at the Community Centre to raise money|
for the same.
|Our antidote to Desmond.|
|Polly doing 'Monarch of the Glen'|