The drought is broken, thanks be to God!

What a hot, dry summer we have been having, with barely a drop of rain since early June. Parts of the lawn are completely brown - except for the long rooted weeds such as dandelions (now would be a good time to get rid of them). Many garden plants are visibly suffering, and I expect we will lose some, as with the hosepipe ban we are watering only the most precious. Marty is keen to avoid wasting as much precious water as possible, so I bought a large plastic tray to put under the shower - the kind you keep under the bed for shoes and such. Since it is too heavy and awkward to pick up full of water, we have to bail it into a bucket and carry the water outside to where it is needed.

Our farming neighbours are finding it much worse. Those with animals are struggling to keep them watered, and since the grass is not growing they have had to feed them reserves intended for the winter. I talked to a young farmer over my hedge who says that he has had to let the beasts down to water in a drain, that he is feeding them meal and sillage, and that the coming winter will be a real crisis. He was spreading artificial fertiliser on a field grazed to the bone in order to encourage grass growth, hoping to graze it again in 6 weeks time.

Another neighbour has just finished harvesting barley and wheat. I suspect yields have been poor enough, but that will be partially compensated by higher prices, and I hear the price of barley straw has soared, since it can be fed to animals.We were blessed yesterday to see a good sized flock of geese grazing in his stubble, fattening up for the winter on the fallen grain. I'm not sure what species they were, but they are probably feral Greylag (Anser anser) which stay in Ireland year round, unlike their cousins from Iceland who come only for the winter.

Geese grazing on my neighbours field on 27th July 2018

We have been praying for rain for weeks, and our prayers have been answered. We have had good rain over the last two days and the waterbutts are full again - I see that our nearest Met Éireann weather station at Gurteen has recorded a total of 12.4mm of rain over the last two days of intermittent showers. But I expect we will be back to hot and dry conditions by this time next week. So we must keep on praying.

Almighty God, whose Son Jesus Christ is the Good Shepherd of the sheep,

we pray for those who give their lives to the care of animals

and whose livelihood depends on the well-being of creatures in their care.

At this time of crisis in the farming community,

we pray that in the providence of God

the sun will shine, the rain will fall, the grass will grow,

and God’s creatures will be fed.

We give thanks for the sense of local community support,

the willingness to offer practical help

and the attentiveness of neighbour to neighbour.

This we ask through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

Mr Brock comes calling

Someone has been digging holes in the croquet lawn, and I feel sure it is Brock the badger. I met him at the bottom of the Lime Alley at dusk one evening last autumn, as I carried a glass of wine with me to my place of contemplation. I froze and looked at him, and he froze and looked at me. We looked at each other for at least a minute, and then he trotted off through a hole in the hedge.

Mr Tommy Brock, from Beatrix Potter's 'The Tale of Mr Todd'

That's the only time I've seen him, but I often see signs of his nocturnal visits. He dug holes in the croquet lawn last autumn too - no doubt in search of grubs, such as cockchafer or ghost moth larvae. When the cobnuts are ripe and falling I suspect it is he that comes to hoover them up, because he leaves his scat around. This summer too I am finding the scat, which includes lots of undigested blackcurrants - the blackbirds have almost stripped the bushes already, and a lot fall to the ground, where they make easy picking for badgers. Here are some photos:

A hole dug in the croquet lawn

Badger scat with blackcurrants

I shall have to fill the holes with sand to make the croquet lawn flat again before the grandsons come to visit, because they will surely want to play croquet. But I don't really mind the small inconvenience. It is good to be reminded that my garden is a part of the wider landscape in which other creatures God has created live their lives.

The only place in the garden Brock has gone digging seems to be the croquet lawn, and I wonder why. It is mown close, but that can't be the reason, as so are other places in the garden. Perhaps it is because it is at the bottom of a slope down from the drive border, and the watertable there is closer to the surface, so that the grubs are easier to reach in the current drought.

I like the old English name Brock for the badger. It is a loan word from the Celtic languages that were once spoken in England before the Anglo-Saxons arrived on the scene - cf 'broc' in Irish and Scottish Gaelic and 'broch' in Welsh.

Badgers can contract bovine tuberculosis (TB) from cattle, and are a significant reservoir of infection, reinfecting TB-free herds. Humans can also be infected with TB from raw milk or handling cattle, though with pasteurisation this is much rarer than it once was, thanks be to God. TB is a significant problem for farmers with cattle in Ireland, and for many years the State has supported a TB eradication programme, requiring all cattle to be tested for TB annually, and reactors to be slaughtered. This has also included the culling of badgers in areas where there is evidence they are reinfecting herds, even though they are a protected species. Happily, in January this year the Government announced a programme to vaccinate badgers against TB. It will commence in the areas which have already been part of field trials demonstrating the effectiveness of badger vaccination, and it will roll out incrementally to other parts of the country over time, with vaccination gradually replacing the need to remove badgers. The aim is to totally eradicate TB in Ireland whilst both protecting the badger population and protecting cattle and the livelihoods of farmers.

Let us pray that this new initiative, based on solid science, will be successful, so that we can continue to enjoy the presence of badgers alongside our livestock industry.

Farewell to days of wine and roses

There are quite a few old rambler roses in the garden I share with Marty. Two weeks ago they were a fine sight, but already they are going over – the days of wine and roses are so fleeting, but they leave us with beautiful memories to treasure until next June.

Here is Rosa ‘Belvedere’ in full bloom a fortnight ago, bought some years ago at Belvedere House in Co Westmeath - really much too vigorous for the place I have it, but it makes a bold statement by the front gate.

Rosa ‘Belvedere’ in full bloom

And here it is today.

Rosa ‘Belvedere’ going over

Here are portraits of a few others – some of which I do not know the name of. I would be glad of suggestions from any reader who recognises them.

Rosa ‘Neige d’Avril’, from Angela Jupe at Fancroft Mill

Rosa name unknown

Rosa ‘American Pillar’, from my mother’s garden
- in honour of Marty

Rosa ‘Weilchenblau’ 

Rosa name unknown – a bit like R. filipes ‘Kiftsgate’, but not so vigorous
– the evening scent is to die for

Rosa name unknown – it is more like a giant shrub than a rambler,
and repeat flowering – it will continue up to the first frosts

Rosa ‘Dorothy Perkins’ has bloomed particularly well this year
– it is usually spoiled by mildew, but not in the dry conditions this year

We also have a yellow Lady Banks' Rose (Rosa banksiae ‘lutea’) planted beside a Southern beech into which it has climbed more than 20 feet. It is very early and long over, but flowered very well high in the tree this year. Here is a portrait taken from the web.

Lady Banks’ Rose (photo by Jarekk on Wikimedia Commons)

How blessed I am to be surrounded by such beauty, even if it is evanescent! It puts so many of our worries into proper perspective:

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? (Matthew 6:28-30)

Carney Commons & Finnoe Church

I found myself with a little free time last Saturday, so rather than working in the garden in the heat I decided to make a foray to Carney Commons. This is a calcareous fen, which floods in the winter, but is bone dry in the summer – in other words it is a turlough. It is a remarkable place, locally renowned for its wild flowers and insects, which has never been cultivated. At some time in the past someone tried to plough a bit of it, but because below a few centimetres of organic soil it is nothing but chalky marl, it is quite useless for anything but rough grazing. As the name suggests, it is common land, and I suspect surrounding farms on better land share the grazing rights, though these do not appear to be taken up, as it is to some extent being invaded by scrub. This is a shame, as if it continues it will gradually squeeze out the species that make it so special – it is some years since I was able to find the Bee Orchids that used to be there, though Fly Orchids can still be found. It does not appear to be currently protected by any conservation designation, which it really should have.

A view across Carney Commons, with an interesting prostrate juniper, a glacial relic, one of the first plants to colonise the Irish tundra after the retreat of the glaciers

A track across Carney Commons, showing the chalk marl substrate and encroaching scrub, including self-seeding Scots Pine – I suspect if left to its own devices over centuries it would become a pine forest!

The object of my foray was to see how the orchids were doing in the dry conditions, in particular the Marsh Helleborine (Epipactus palustris) and Fragrant Orchid (Gymnadenia conopsea), both of which I expected to find in full flower. The Marsh Helleborine was in profusion, but no where near as lush as it usually is. I could not find a single flower spike of the Fragrant Orchid – it must really not like the heat and drought. However, I did find what I think was a seed head of the Fly Orchid, and there were quite a number of flowers of a very pale form of the Common Spotted Orchid (Dactylorhiza fuchsii ssp fuchsii – not the pure white ssp okellyi, so common in the Burren at this time).

Marsh Helleborine (Epipactis palustris) – such a beautiful flower

A rather pale Common Spotted Orchid (Dactylorhiza fuchsii ssp fuchsii)

As I searched for interesting plants I was rather troubled by the flies, but there were lots of other insects. I saw plenty of male Common Blue butterflies (Polyommatus Icarus) but few females, which were either hiding or emerge later. And the air was thick with Six Spot Burnet moths (Zygaena filipendulae) – I photographed one feeding on a Common Spotted Orchid.

You can see the Burnet’s proboscis searching out the nectar in a flower

Elsewhere the Lady’s Bedstraw (Galium verum) was in full bloom, so called because of the sweet smell it gives off when used to stuff a mattress, and for the first time I found Burnet Saxifrage (Pimpinella saxifraga).

Lady’s Bedstraw

Burnet Saxifrage – at least I think so!

As I walked along the chalky track, a car pulled up, from which emerged a man and his daughter and a dog. As the girl picked bunches of flowers and the dog raced around I fell into conversation with the man. He said he knew rather little about the plants I was so interested in, but he knew more about animals. His farm is beside the Common, but he didn’t know whether or not he had grazing rights. He was a shooter, and often walked the Common in winter when it was flooded, hunting snipe and duck.

Carney Commons is a very special community of living creatures, one of the few wild places that remain in Lower Ormond. Human beings are part of that community, and unless we tend and keep it, for instance by maintaining a rough grazing regime, it will inexorably change and develop into a very different community. But I am sure that however the community develops God will see it to be good and will continue to delight in the diversity of life he has made.

Finnoe Church

I did not stay long at Carney Commons, because of the heat and the flies. But I also drove down the laneway to Finnoe Church, in search of the Nettle Leaved Bellflower (Campanula trachelium) I have found there in the past. The margins of the laneway even under the trees were completely dried out, and I could not find even a wizened stem of it. I do hope it has not died out there - it is protected under the 1987 Flora Protection Order as being ‘Endangered’.

I went on over the stile into the church yard of the de-roofed Church of Ireland church, which I think was closed in 1969, once united Kilbarron, and later with Borrisokane. It is not far from Prior Park, my grandparent’s house, and I have an early childhood memory of being taken to church there in a pony and trap - though my mother rather poo-pooed the idea, as they usually worshipped in Killodiernan. Some years ago, I rescued a small piece of the wrought iron altar rail from the ruins of the church, which still rests on my patio. And I have a little book listing in manuscript Finnoe church sustentation for the years 1902 to 1908, with names and amounts, including those of my grandfather and greatgrandfather.

The path through the churchyard has been kept clear, and a few graves are being well maintained, with quite recent interments, but the rest of the graveyard is frightfully overgrown. There is something ineffably sad about a ruined church in an abandoned graveyard. I imagine the many generations of faithful worshippers - including some of my ancestors - walking up the path Sunday by Sunday, the happiness of christening and wedding parties, the sadness of burials. All but a few are now forgotten and not remembered by us, but each one is known and loved by God. 

Finnoe Church exterior 8th July 2018

Finnoe Church interior 8th July 2018

May God bless and keep all who have worshipped here.

Requiem for a Greenfinch

A couple of evenings ago, as Marty and I were taking advantage of the fine weather to share a barbeque with our good neighbour Geoff on the patio, a Greenfinch came to perch on the pergola not 8 feet away from us. This normally shy bird had no fear of us and stayed there for several minutes before disappearing into the bushes. ‘What a bold bird!’, I exclaimed.

The next evening, as we were again preparing to light the barbeque, a sad sight greeted us. There on the patio lay a dead Greenfinch, the same bird I feel certain, a male judging by the bright yellow on its wings and tail. It appeared to be quite uninjured, so could not have been killed by a predator. So why was it dead?

The dead Greenfinch on our patio

There are several possibilities - heat stroke or dehydration come to mind. But most likely I think is a nasty parasitic infection which has been causing mass die-offs of finches in recent years – Trichomoniasis, caused by the single-celled Trichomonas gallinae parasite. The Summer 2018 issue of ‘Wings’, the Birdwatch Ireland magazine has a most informative article about it, from which I quote:
‘The parasite is transmitted between finches via their saliva at shared food and water sources, when feeding chicks or when feeding their mate during courtship. The parasite colonises the back of the throat in an infected bird, progressively narrowing the digestive tract and making it increasingly difficult for it to swallow food or water; this eventually results in starvation.
‘The Irish breeding Greenfinch population is now half of what it was 12 years ago, before the impact of Trichomoniasis’.

‘Wings’ also gives advice on how garden hygiene can limit the spread of the disease:
‘The best thing to do is to remove all feeders and water baths from the garden and clean them in a mild bleach solution. The Trichomonas parasite doesn’t survive well outside the host, particularly in dry conditions, so leave your feeders and water dishes to air-dry after cleaning. We recommend that you hold off from feeding birds in your garden for at least two weeks afterwards. This will encourage them to seek food elsewhere and give the healthy birds a chance to separate from any infected individuals.’ 

The winter before last, I had noticed a near absence of the usual Greenfinches at the feeders Marty keeps so well stocked. I wondered why, but last winter they seemed to be back up to normal levels. It is disturbing to think that the disease has returned. What a horrid way for any creature to die!

Greenfinches are not so very different from you or I – we are all mortal, and death will come to us all eventually. We too are liable to epidemic plagues. Just 100 years ago the ‘Spanish Flu’ influenza pandemic killed at least 50 million people worldwide, more than died in the Great War. Now, with better global communications and climate change, new human plagues such as Ebola and Zika are emerging all the time alongside old ones such as influenza, cholera and typhus. Such diseases are part of the motor that drives evolution to create the diversity of life we see around us.

I am sure that our God cares for Greenfinches just as he cares for us, and all his creatures. Jesus reassures us, saying
‘Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground unperceived by your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.’ (Matthew 10:29-31)