Sheep at mass

Today I went to mass. Big deal you might say, well it is a big deal for someone. On the previous weekend over €3000 was collected in the parish. At least that's what it said in the A3 page that they print out for all the congretation or sheep. Maybe they collected more, after all it was cash, who knows? The reason I went was because it was an anniversary mass for my wife's cousin who died maybe 4 or 5 years ago. It's a bit like a rap song where a gangsta can pay a rapper to mention them in their latest tune. Only this time it's the dead person's relatives who pay the priest (rapper) to mention the deceased (gangsta) in the mass (toon). It must be a pretty good deal for the priest because quite a few dead people got a mention today, not just once, but three times. I asked once how much it cost to get a mention and I was told €50. But that was a few years ago and with inflation and the cost of living going up it's probably doubled since then. So as I sat there standing up or sitting down or even occassionally kneeling with all the other sheep I was contemplating why would an Indian priest be saying mass in Ireland. Perhaps it's because of all the CC scandals nobody in Ireland wants to be a priest anymore. Just this week there's a new story about abuse in schools run by the CC. Already 160 cases have come forward. I said abuse, I should have said sexual abuse, but sex is still a bit of a taboo subject in Ireland, especially if a priest is involved. Back when these people were kids being abused nobody talked about it anyway. If somebody complained the priest was quietly transferred to carry on their evil deeds in some other parish. I don't go up for communion at mass, I have a slight problem believing that Christ's body has been turned into a bit of hard flat bread. Instead I watch the sheep blindly following the sheep in front up to the front of the church and calmly returning to their pew. The people are mostly old, in their 70s, with a few people with young families. Very few teenagers or twenty-somethings. Not one attractive looking woman that I'd like to shag. A familiar song from my childhood is played at the end of mass. Joy to the world or something like it. The theme from 'sean the sheep' tv programme would be more appropiate in my humble opinion. The woman in front of me has left her pamphlet on the pew and I read that the relics of saint Bernadette are doing a tour of Ireland. Jesus H Christ this is the sort of stuff that I thought stopped in the middle ages. OK I can accept that Oasis are going on tour next year, but the bits of a saint's body going on tour is something new to me. I'm almost tempted to go just to see what sort of sheep go to see a saint's relics on tour.

Selling the house I grew up in.

The house I grew up in is going to fall down unless I sell it. It's a Georgian house, over 200 years old and it's been empty for about 5 years. It's also huge by today's standards, there are probably lots of families living comfortably in apartments that are smaller than the largest room in the house. It was built by the Anglo Irish landlords who basically stole the land from the Irish people and then rented it back to them and lived lavishly while doing it. It was a beautiful house, even as recently as the 1980's it was an attractive house. But now it's a bit like a wealthy, old woman who has fallen on hard times, imagine old Miss. Havisham in Dickens' book Great Expectations. Complete with spiders and dust. My Great grandfather bought it when the Anglo landlords moved back to England just over 100 years ago, after the 1916 rising they could see the writing on the wall. Around here a lot of the 'big' houses were burnt to the ground during the civil war. But ours wasn't touched. Or torched. Because so many of these houses were destroyed, they are now pretty rare, they're also protected or listed buildings. This is a bit of a blessing and a curse for their owners. Any maintenance or renovation work has to be done to heritage standards. This means original style everything, no pvc gutters or windows here. It's also expensive to do this work, properly. It's been empty since my parents moved out about 5 years ago. Some of the windows were broken when kids broke in. I used to keep a heater on during the winter, not anymore though. It's too expensive. Every room bar a couple of smaller ones has a fireplace. Most are blocked up now, my parents installed central heating in half the house in the 1970's. The other half of the house was just used for storage. Whenever a grand aunt or grandparents died their junk moved into our house. Old china plates and mahogany sideboards and narrow beds that nobody really wants anymore. Unless of course they have just bought a big, empty Georgian mansion. I don't know what to do with the old furniture, the contents belong to my mother. She was born during WW2. Like everyone else born at that time, she is a hoarder. You know those de-clutter tv programmes? The ones where the, usually, mentally ill person has a house stacked to the ceiling with 'stuff' with little rabbit runs through the stacks, that sort of hoarder. We spent a week mucking out 35 cubic meters of junk last summer, hard but satisfying work. We didn't tell my mother we were doing it, she would have been skip diving. I still have a lot of work to do outside, cutting back overgrown vegetation, perhaps a few new panes of glass before viewing by prospective buyers can start. Today an auctioneer was out taking photos for a brochure. At least the smell of damp old clothes and mattresses has now mostly gone. I've started to appreciate where the heritage people are coming from. The gloss paint applied to some of the walls is cracked and peeling because the walls can't breathe under the paint. But rooms with the original white wash lime are still in good condition.

Wish me luck with the sale and if you know any wealthy people looking for a big old house in Ireland show them this. Update; July 2023Well the house has been sold, I wish the new owner all the best as they go to work restoring the old lady to her former glory.

Orion's Belt

Have you ever stared up (sorry about the pun) at the night sky on a clear, cold night? Wondered what else is out there 6 or 700 light years away? Or better still have you ever looked up at the night sky while holding the hand of the one you love? Years ago I pointed to Orion's Belt with a young woman from Germany, and told her whenever I saw it in future I would think of her, I still do. Years later, as an old soul I met another woman from Germany, we were friends for a while, then we lost touch. I told her about Orion's Belt, and about picking it. She said nobody had ever done that for her. Like a fool I never took the hint, but if I had a second chance I would have chosen the plough to remind her of an Irish plough Jockey. Last week my son's German girl friend flew back to Germany. After collecting him from the house she stayed at, we drove home, I wondered would they ever see each other again. It was late, after midnight and as I let the dogs out I looked up at the night sky. The clouds parted, and revealed Orion's Belt. I wondered what sort of incomprehensible power is this?

Farming organically.

After a couple of years thinking about it, weighing up the pros and cons, farming without using artificial nitrogen, growing a crop of oats successfully without any chemical inputs and an unsuccessful crop of barley I finally took the plunge and signed up to go organic for 5 years, provided that my farm passes inspection. I won't know for definite until September or October. All the 'experts' are telling us that everyone who applies will get in, but they have a bit of a financial motive to say that, everyone who applies to farm organically has to pay a non-refundable €350 to cover the cost of inspection, registration etc. So if there is 400 of us applying that's a nice little pot of €140,000 to keep a few people in a job somewhere. The deadline for applying to join was 5pm on 30th April, we don't know yet how many applied, last time that applications were being accepted 60 people didn't get in, so they'll get first priority. I will have to farm organically first for 5 months until a decision is made and then until April 2023 in conversion before I get certified. My first job as an organic farmer yesterday was to spread 1500-2000 gallons of slurry per acre on red clover silage sward and the 'traditional hay meadow'. The THM can't be cut until 15th of July. The red clover and ryegrass will probably be cut twice this summer, it has just been grazed. The 'experts' tell us that red clover dies if it is cut too low (lower than 7 cms) or if it is grazed too tight. My first experiment as an organic farmer is to investigate what happens if red clover gets grazed hard. I put the cows on to graze red clover to 3 different post grazing heights, high, medium and low. High is about 10cm, mediun is 7cm and low is about 3 cms. I'll have a look at these plots every Saturday for the next few weeks to see what happens.

What changes will I have to make? Cow numbers are going to be cut by 30% and there will be no more bull beef. All the bulls on the farm are going to be sold ASAP as they are too old to catrate them organically. Instead male calves will be castrated at 7 days with a rubber ring and sold as forward stores at about 18 months. I'm not sure yet what to do with female calves, some will be retained for breeding. I hope to finish some at about 20 months. Selling them at 1 year old to other farmers for breeding is potentially another market too. With vet supervision (€!) we are allowed treat animals for parasites or if they get sick, but withdrawal periods for drugs are double or in some cases treble what it says on the can/bottle. We won't be able to feed non-organic feed to organic cattle. Housing This is going to be the hardest for me I think. I have cubicles for the cows, but they need to be bedded for organic, and cattle need a bedded lieback area. Where to put this lieback area could be a problem for me. We are allowed use woodchip as bedding, this is great as I bought a woodchipper late last year. Cropping Forestry won't be included in the organic system. I'm already growing red clover for silage. I plan to grow some cereals, oats and perhaps rye in rotation with the red clover. The oats can be sold as a cash crop, apparently organic breakfast cereals are a good market. Approx half my farm is permanant grass which can't be ploughed as it's too rocky/wet. Maintaining fertility is going to be a problem for me, my P levels are adequate but K levels are low. If P and K levels were both low, importing slurry or dairy sludge would be allowed, but I only need K. Perhaps keserite, the raw material for potash fertiliser can be used. Bit of a catch 22 situation here I'm afraid. I'm looking forward to meeting the challenges of organic farming. I've always been interested in what happens to plants, how they grow etc. but now I'm looking forward to learning about what happens to the soil. How far do different plant roots go down for example? Can I grow crops by strip seeding instead of ploughing? Can I reduce my carbon footprint? Can I make better use of my resources, soil, cattle, buildings and machinery etc.?

Pruning Norway Spruce part 1

Woman in chains

Just two weeks ago I was unloading a load of straw. I had to manually push 30 4x4 bales off a lorry. It was hard physical work, as the bales were wedged on the load. I got a bit short of breadth doing it, but at the time didn't think too much about it.

That afternoon I used the tractor and loader to move the 30 bales from the roadside to a stack in the yard. Later my calf muscle was sore, I estimated that over the afternoon I had pressed the clutch pedal about 300 times bringing in the bales. The tractor has 130 hp, so the springs in the clutch are pretty stiff. That evening I was breathless lifting 25kg bags of meal to feed cattle, I was glad to be finished work for the day. That night I again got breathless going upstairs to bed.

Next morning I got up early, as it had rained heavily all night the cows had to be moved to a fresh block of grass. My wife gave me a lift near to where the cows were that night, it was raining heavily and by the time I got back to the house for breakfast I was really short of breadth, again. I took it easy for the day apart from going to the mill for half a ton of meal for the bulls, again throwing the bags into the back of the jeep I became short of breadth. That was Friday of the bank holiday Paddy's day weekend. Any time I exerted myself I was finding it hard.

I took it easy for the rest of the weekend, on Monday I tried to do some work in the yard, the bulls had to be mucked out and gates had to be hung in a shed to do it safely. I managed to hang two gates, but it had taken me 2 hours to do what would normally take me 20 minutes, I was shagged. I went home and called the out of hours GP as it was a bank holiday.

The doc suspected that I had a clot in my lung, it had started in my left calf, hence the pain the previous Thursday. There was an intermittent pain high up in my chest too, it felt like someone poking me hard in the chest with their finger. I had no choice, off to the regional hospital 35 miles away. 

Being a bank holiday Monday the A&E dept. was bedlam. I got seen by a triage nurse pretty quickly after arriving at 4.30pm. It would be after 1am on Tuesday morning before I'd see a doctor, 5am before I got a trolley (not a bed) and 8pm Tuesday evening before I actually got a bed. 

There were a lot of cops passing in and out of outpatients, sometimes they had a prisoner with them, sometimes not. They were going out for a smoke, one guy was in pjs. must have been on a witness protection programme or something. There was a big revolving door at the exit, and the prisoner got in the same section as me at one stage in the revolving door, the look of panic on the cop's face was priceless. Didn't know I had such a bad reputation.

The other prisoner going in and out for a smoke was a young blond woman, they had a 4 ft chain on her wrist attached to either of the two prison wardens with her. This woman was really striking, not that tall, her long hair was tied in a ponytail, she had a scorpion tattoo on the nape of her neck. After I got my trolley bed she was in the same ward and used to pass me a few times a day with her guardian in tow. I used to nod to her and she'd smile or say hi as she passed. 

I didn't see her again after I got moved to a real bed. I stayed in hospital for a few days getting tests and scans done. There was a big delay getting an MRI done. Eventually on the Thursday it got done and a lovely doc called Lamese looked after me. When I was leaving the hospital she surprised me by shaking hands with me, I was surprised because I didn't think doctors shook hands because of hygiene and all that jazz. Turns out I had a clot on my lung, they gave me drugs to help break it down. I'm still on drugs today to prevent another clot forming, and it looks like I'll be on them for life.

About a year later I was paying for diesel at a local filling station and there behind the till was the woman in chains. No chains this time, just a big friendly smile. She had more tattoos on her arms and I complimented her on them, She spoke English with an Eastern European accent. I've been back to the filling station a few times since, but haven't seen her. I hope she's ok and able to keep out of trouble. 

I hate March

If I die of natural causes it will be in the month of March. It's when I am at my lowest ebb, most stressed, even though it is spring, for me the winter isn't over yet. Last year there was a heavy fall of snow in early March after a fairly mild if wet winter. Same again this year, no snow and hardly any frost all winter then snow again in late February and early March.

Our seasons have changed, there can be no doubt about it, plum trees flowered in January this year, but now it is colder than it was in January, some buds are struggling to burst on the hawthorn, but it is like as if spring has been put on hold for now.

Our birds are finding it tough too. Yesterday as I drove into my yard I noticed a sparrow hawk perched on the gable over the front door, he didn't fly away as I approached, I say 'he' because males are smaller. He had no fear of me, if anything he looked hungry and miserable. We try and have an unkempt garden to provide food and shelter for wildlife, perhaps he had his eye on a blackbird or the pair of wood pigeon who have started nesting in the ivy on the garden wall. If our top predator birds like a sparrow hawk are having trouble surviving then it is a good indicator that the whole ecosystem is in trouble. I see hawks regularly flying along the road about 6 feet above the ground then diving through a field gateway, or hovering on a stiff breeze watching their prey, but I rarely see them near the house or in the garden, but that's the second time I saw a hawk in a garden this week. 

Occasionally I see a barn owl too at dusk, I believe he roosts in the roof of an old house in the yard, s/he's the reason I don't lay rat bait in the yard, but I haven't seen it since the autumn. There are also some pheasants who gather up the scraps of meal after feeding cattle. For anyone who thinks wild game meat hasn't been fed GM food, I hate to tell you but you might want to re-think that one next time you are ordering something gamey in a fancy Dublin restaurant.