Still and Silent

I went for a walk by the village quay. The water was so still and silent I could hear the dripping of water trickling down a mooring rope on a nearby boat. Although I couldn't see it, I knew a Grey Heron would be standing like a silent sentinel out on the seaweed covered rocks beyond and that the calling Curlew were still shuffling for position near their watery roost. The Bull reared to defy Orion the Hunter and the Seven Sisters seemed to be winking in the direction of Perseus and Cassiopeia in the night sky. It's OK, the little shopping that had to be done was nestling in the car and my wallet neither filled my soul nor weighed my coat as it was empty - I didn't care. The castle to my left looked as cold and grey as the air that surrounded it, yet mystical as it might have done in the days of the pirate Queen as she moored for the night beneath the limestone hills. Even though from where I stand I can see no coloured lights or hear any carols, I can feel its Christmas. Maybe its the frosty weather and short days. There are troubling thoughts and worries swamped in my internal landscape yet I feel lucky to be alive and humbled by the love given to me.

Happy Christmas & Peaceful New Year.

Rhythms

A few years ago I had a very interesting conversation with someone about control freaks. Those of us who endeavour to have everything running to an exact rhythm and everything in its right place. I think it is linked with insecurity and even obsessional behaviour. This discussion has stayed with me for a long time and has caused me to chuckle at times when things go wrong in my life or don't pan out just the way I want them to. My friend made a spectacularly simple yet incredibly logical point. Life is not meant to remain static or stand still, it really is like a river and its just when we think we have it all under control that it changes and sends you scrambling to get a grip again. We all work hard to gain security in our lives but yet it seems it makes us stiff and unyielding to fate. We refuse to go with the flow and accept the changes.

I have tried to loosen my own grip, I have tried to not look too far ahead and advance plan or speculate. Something has changed in my world over the last few months; someone close to me has become weaker and weaker and is now basically bed bound. The medical care claim that 'it's a slippery slope'. Now the rhythm in my routine has changed again and I must change with it and go with the flow. Maybe life itself is a strange wriggling organism and we are riding this bucking bronco bareback.

Guilty As Charged

Oh the guilt, the shame! Yes we just had to do it - see we couldn't help ourselves. In defiance of an unwritten rule that states one should wait until at least the 8th December, we have put up our Christmas decorations - extremely early! I will admit, I am very sentimental when it comes to this time of the year. I am not a fan of mass consumerism ala bottles of perfume that cost the earth or eating so much that you can't walk for ten hours. Without meaning to be self-righteous, I feel a donation to a good cause and a cosy day with family and friends is the way to go, that's if you are very lucky to be able to have all that on the 25th December. Give me the glow of the lights and flicker of an open fire! (Although I wouldn't turn down just the odd expensive gift such as a new car - OK Santa in case your listening!).

There is major hardship due to flooding all around me at the moment and the country is in a right old state so to hell with the begrudger's and those who utter 'bah humbug' in my direction - I'm proud of our tree and dodgy Christmas tunes CD!

Landscapes

A landscape can be read like a history book. If you look carefully, you will find clues that tell of human endeavour and spirituality. This has never been more true than in the case of a region of bare limestone in North Clare, Ireland known as the Burren (from the Gaelic 'bhoireann' meaning rocky/stony place). Many forms of art have been dedicated to this incredible place; songs, poems, paintings, stories and documentaries. It is a wild windswept mystical sort of place with a long and varied history. Our stoneage ancestors farmed the area over 5000 years ago and left behind spectacular megalithic (large stone) monuments.

This Wedge Tomb sits on a hill where archaeological excavations have taken place. The research has revealed a Neolithic/Bronze Age farming community lived and worked on this hillside. This is one of their tombs where they communally deposited their dead. All those thousands of years ago in would have been covered by a mound of small stones or cairn. Some megalithic tombs are aligned to astronomical events such as sunrise/sunset at certain times of the year. One of the best known is the Passage Tomb at Newgrange in County Meath where the burial chamber is flooded by the morning sun (when its not raining) on the shortest day of the year or winter solstice.

I have marvelled at these monuments on sunny days when the Skylarks are singing out over the ancient stones and have sat in the mist, wind and rain imagining those people. When you place your hand on those tombs its like you can sense the energy of the spirits within.

Greed = Anger & Confusion

These are strange times or "most peculiar mama" as John Lennon once warbled. In this country there are construction workers becoming barbers and hairdressers, newly graduated fresh faced solicitors are applying for jobs at McDonald's and over 3'000 teachers applied for one job a few months ago. The car auctions are overflowing with repossessed Audi's, Merc's, BMW's and other flash models (I wonder are there still models hiding out in some of them!). Apparently at one particular auction these flash brands are mixed in with commercial vehicles such as vans from the defunct construction industry. So that's cars from the developers/real estate moguls and vans and trucks from the lads who made em' their millions (which they lost!).

I too emerge blinded and stumbling armed with a trusty degree and M.Sc. into the bright sunlight of confusion. 'Hello' I offer meekly and politely. 'Would anyone care to look at my qualifications?' 'OK so can anyone offer a job then?' Getting mad now. 'I want a nice comfy career, job security and pension!!' Gimme Gimme. There ain't no one gonna help you now boy! Run away or change direction completely!

Alas, things have changed. Some would say for the better in the end. Community spirit will emerge. Greed will dissipate and slowly we will all get back on our feet. Yet confusion and anger still rain on the poor souls who didn't go crazy and buy the 50000000inch colour high definition watch it til your eyes fall out of your head flat screen t.v. and then bought another one to stick in their second home on the sunny coast. Why anger? well it is they who have to fork out the cash to bail out the greedy few. Very simplified but in a nutshell - true.

So, I drift on a sea of ideas, business schemes, further education schemes while watching our government fight like children over who wasted the money and who is to blame etc. I can only hope and have faith that destiny will send a fair wind and guide me in the right direction.

Deserted Farms

The night dropped its curtain at eight. What drew me out was the chance to see Jupiter sitting just below the moon (and a dog that had those 'walk me now please' eyes). Taking the flashlight and a slightly less traversed route, it brought me down a bumpy track which ended at a gate and two weed covered pillars. The pillar on the right bore the surname 'Reidy'. Beyond stood an old two storey stone farmhouse, the Curlews called out on the shore to the north and the moon appeared briefly from behind too much cloud. It could have been straight out of a 1940s epic about old Eire. It was calm, peaceful yet a touch sad also. Wild unpopulated landscapes are magical, they hold mystery and often bring out the best in naturalists, writers, artists and musicians. Then there are these old deserted houses. I try to imagine a summers sun creeping across a flag stoned floor. A kettle on the boil, someone getting ready for the days labor. Perhaps the family 'Reidy' made that house alive until America or foreign parts called too loudly. I hope the echos within are happy ones.

Deserted Farms
Is it too much for one man to handle?
To encompass so many years with just a single theory,
The empty farmsteads - the tea bottles buried out in the bogs,
Someday nectar for some future archaeologist,
But why leave?
Was it famine that cracked the whip of starvation?
Maybe it was the isolation,
The land just wasn't enough it seems,
The weekends without the laughter of women,
The worn roads to the sea no longer bustle with those wagons of kelp,
Weed covered machinery - rusted red from Saturday nights tears,
When you rub your face free of Manhattan sweat,
It is with the hardened hands of your ancestors,
Calloused and baptised with County Clare dirt.

Rambo Season Has Begun

A hunting we will go.......lets go out with big guns and bullet belts strapped to our waists and criss-crossing over our chests and blow everything that moves out of the sky. Lets not bother our lazy asses, to walk the fields or foreshore in search of our prey, lets just drive at break neck speeds down narrow country lanes and park up, take two steps, take our potshots and leave. Why, with no trained gun dogs to retrieve our targets, they can die a slow agonising death instead. How marvellous to think, these creatures have survived this far only to die in such a manner.

Yes indeed, its that time of the year again. Its really not good that I'm getting mad as hell about this and its only the start of the hunting season. These idiots I describe are not sportsmen - they are ignorant fools and whats more they are dangerous. When out hunting duck and other wildfowl, real sportsmen can identify the species which they pursue and they know when they are in season and how many they can shoot. Their gun dogs are highly trained to retrieve shot (or unfortunately in some cases winged/wounded) birds. Many of these now deemed 'old fashioned' hunters, will eat the duck/wildfowl they kill or pass the fowl on to others who will use them for their pot. Yet, in every corner of Ireland you come across the 'Rambo's who just want to kill things, I presume in some vain effort to prove how macho they are: "hey lads I just shot a big slow moving bird over there - I must be a real man". I have seen them shooting at Grey Herons and Swans and have heard many reports of them shooting birds of prey, gulls and other protected species. They roll into areas where they have heard there is "loads of birds" and start popping away. Because half the time they do not know the area, they will illegally shoot from roads and in protected areas where there will be walkers or houses nearby. This has resulted in tragedy in the past with their ignorance of firearms resulting in accidental shootings.

I am an ornithologist, I study birds scientifically and for pleasure. In a way my pursuit involves the hunting without the killing. My personal belief is that all nature should be respected. This doesn't make me an eco-extremist and I know it is hard to live 100% environmentally friendly and in harmony with nature. However when it comes to this sort of mindless murder, there is simply no excuse for it. This evening, a car with two Rambo's sped by me up a lane. A few minutes later and literally in a field next door with a high hedge, the shooting started, as Mallard, Teal, Curlew and their allies took to the sky, I willed them to safety and wished a flat tyre and worse (which I couldn't publicly declare!) on those who wanted them dead.

RainyWest has now put his soapbox away!!!