Repeal the 8th

Gorse to our North glowing in the morning
sun.

Any Irish person of around Elizabeth's age will tell you a similar story of the Irish education system's attempts to teach them all the Irish language. Irish schooling is famously identical throughout the land. There is only one 'examinations board' so every child from Cork to Donegal and from Galway to Dublin learns exactly the same syllabus from the same books and takes identical exams on identical dates and at the same times.

Apple Blossom

In the case of the Irish language which was taught very badly, in a dry and dusty fashion, 'by rote' and using some dire text books, this meant that those same people all have the same memories of hating having to learn Irish which they saw as a dead language and of no relevance to their 'modern'  70s and 80s lives. The main target of this loathing was a story of the life of one 'Peig Sayers' who lived a life of poverty, cold, damp and outright misery on a then almost uninhabited (and now uninhabited) lump of rock off the West coast, called Blasket Island.

More blossom

Elizabeth has shared many memories of having to read 'Peig' with many people she has met over the years since. It is like we Brits remembering how "bad" school dinners were. I have since read the book myself (in English, of course) and I can see what they mean.

That keyhole bed all restored and ready for use again.

Peig herself was allegedly quite a wonderful lady, a gripping and entertaining story teller much called upon locally for evening socials. She was old and blind by the time she came to 'tell all' and I have been told that the telling would have been well spiced up and peppered with 'naughty' bits, racy asides, dodgy anecdotes and other fun. Sadly she dictated it to a stodgy brother who wrote it all down but then only submitted a very clean, wholesome version for publication.

Hostas by the pond. The rather odd perspective because we are
looking down at a blue sky reflected in the water. 

Worse, says Elizabeth, was that Peig lived through all the "interesting" bits of recent Irish history including the Land War, the 1916 Rising, the War of Independence, the Civil War, the establishment of the Irish Free State AND the establishment, finally, of the Republic of Ireland WITHOUT MENTIONING ANY OF THEM. How, asks Elizabeth, did her 'story' ever become the Education Dept's choice of the best possible book in Irish about those times?

'Repeal the 8th' voting paperwork

But hey, Peig Schmeg. Where am I going with all this? Only here. Heaven forbid anyone is reading this in a hundred more years time and researching how life was for a newly arrived smallholder trying to get his head round Irish ways, and wondering how I failed to mention that the country went through two really traumatic, historic events at the time. In May 2015 there was a Referendum aimed (successfully) at changing the Constitution to allow same-sex marriage and this month there is to be another on a thorny abortion issue currently enshrined in the 8th Amendment of the document. .

Guinea Fowl

If you want to know what it is all about, then much has been discussed and printed on the subject and it would be quite wrong of me to pretend to be unbiased or knowledgeable. Suffice to say it is a deeply entrenched issue which has split the country and not on political party lines - it has divided families and friends and made people question long-held views. A lot of the divisions are (according to polling) between  young and old, city folk and rural dwellers, male and female, religious and not and rich and poor. Probably enough said on this one. The vote is on May 25th. Anxious moments as we wait for the day and the count.

Sometimes this is all you get when a duck is taken. Some flat
grass by the fence and a few feathers.

Meanwhile, I am sad to report that our fox came back and quietly took our final female duck. This happened at about 8:30 pm by which time the Guineas were tucked up in bed, so did not raise an alarm shout. Only when I went to shepherd home the ducks, did I spot the loss, and then, when I went searching I found the tell-tale flattened grass and a few feathers by the fence. We now have just 2 adult drakes, so no eggs for the moment, but we have 3 ducklings doing very well in the nursery and 12 eggs in the incubator. We'll be back.

Chinese style pork ribs. 

I have moved the fox trap down to that place on the fence and baited it but we've had that thing 2 months now and all it has ever caught is chickens and cats. I do not hold out much hope. Worse, I was out walking the dogs today and got chatting to old friend of the blog, Mike the Cows, who was fixing a fence down the road. He'd been topping off (mowing) rushes in a field down there and had 'flushed out' a group of 3 adult foxes with his noise and clatter. Also, he knew of a fox earth with a vixen and cubs "just below" a near neighbour's house. 4 adult foxes and some cubs, all within a mile of the place!

I'm amazed we are doing as well as we are. Till next time, then.

Freedom of Association

The 24^th (Tuesday) sees Mum and Dad thanking everyone for their anxious wishes for “Curmudgeonly Aunt Dog Freedom Day”. I won't keep you in suspense. It went like a DREAM! Nobody died! Nobody even got a bit chewed. Kittens romped, puppy bounced about like your one off the Dulux advert and I chased about sniffing them, following them and (as far as Mum and Dad could tell) shepherding them like a Mum. There were a couple of heart-stopping moments for Mum when the chase looked a bit more serious but I checked when they said "Gently!" and in fact only ever seemed to be trying to stay with the scampering kitten, never to grab and bite. We chased happily all through the downstairs of the house, out onto the front terrace and out into the back yard (former cattle-yard) where they all met the chickens. Mum and Dad got plenty of sweet pictures and these are on Flickr (see back up thread for link). Mum and Dad gave it an hour and a half and then declared nap time for small animals while humans breathed huge sigh of relief and sat down for a coffee. There was then a shopping interlude (buying fence posts, like yer do) and the building of Stalag Chicken II (You're not getting out into the lane no more, d'yer hear?). We did another 'session' pm and then just relaxed all the guards in the evening and 2 humans, 3 babies and I all chilled out in our various ways. Peace and harmony reigns! 

There is just one interesting development which we will have to watch and that is that small 1.3kg pup, no taller than you can spread thumb and forefinger tips and looking like a ball of fluff, has decided he can charge the (relatively) huge, tall chickens and they will run away in alarm. One good puck on the little black nose would sort him out but the 'hins' are not volunteering and William is protecting them by shouting encouragement from the rear. We'll have to watch that!

Weds 25^th

We harmonious animals are all still peaceful, although kittens are incurring the wrath of womankind by trying to join them on dining table during supper. I think not, me ol' mateys!

Yay! We finally got the warm weather, so maybe that Jet Steam thing has fired a bit of high pressure our way too. "Animals in Harmony" had another successful day. I am trying not to call it Jollity Farm as per the Bonzo Dogs (see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WVqAYGW-d4U for details). Nobody died or got chewed. The Pup came out as far as the bunnies with me and Dad to say hello. He squeaked and writhed on the grass at them through the wire. They came up to the wire amazed at this weird new animal. At quarter past ten we hustled the kittens back indoors a bit quick when a short eared owl flapped silently down the eastern field. They'd been playing in the half light. They only weigh 780g, an easy lift for a birdie that big.

Hin1 and Hin2 laid nice perfect eggs in nest boxes as per their standing instructions. Hin3 decided to drop hers from the 7 foot high roosting beam before she came down in the morning. Bomb gone! Clean that lot up, Dad!  Hin4 is currently in habit of hanging on to hers till 10-ish and then laying it in the nettle patch. She was a bit frustrated to be 'caged' inside new Stalag Chicken and unable to reach nettle patch, so she clucked a quick "Blow you!", flew over the fence and went there anyway. She may be broody, hence extra determination, or it might just be a habit. Chickens do 'routine' and 'habit' very well.

With a chance finally to work the fast-drying soil of the allotment, Dad started the process of changing it into raised beds which if he'd done in the first place might have meant less drowned sulking crops this 'Summer'. We didn't Know, though. That's what everybody does here. Nobody tries to do veg’ on the flat. It rains too much, didn’t you know?