Denis Lehane: Outwintered animals are as sought-after as tickets to see Taylor Swift
Hardy outwintered cattle are as sought-after as tickets to see Taylor Swift
I took a few cattle to Macroom on Saturday. I got a King's ransom for my trouble.
The cattle I sold were all of the outwintered variety, and with our winter only just finished, and our summer just beginning, my timing could not have been better.
Hardy outwintered cattle are always popular, but this year they were like gold dust. They are as sought-after as tickets to see Taylor Swift. Every farmer desires one.
"Back in there Connie," I roared on Saturday morning after the truck had finally arrived.
And while my facilities would not be up to the extraordinary standards of Moorepark, still it's amazing what can be achieved with a few rusty gates and some well-tied lengths of bale twine.
My load consisted of three Shorthorns, two Friesians and two cattle that you wouldn't rightly know what they were. The cards said one thing, but if you looked at them sideways you'd say another thing.
Anyhow, all were loaded with ease and soon we were headed for the bright lights of Macroom Mart. We had just one more pick-up to make. Two bullocks belonging to this airy fellow who lives up a long-overgrown lane between here and Macroom.
He's a bit of a poet, but we won't hold that against him. Sure, even the best of us will turn to poetry in times of desperation.
Anyhow, after conquering the lane, which was no mean feat, we landed in the yard. The yard was a bit 'trina chéile,' old buckets and the like, were strewn everywhere. T'was a lot like my own yard really, only don't be saying it.
With nobody about, Connie figured that all were probably still in bed, so he gave his horn a prolonged airing. After a spell the farmer appeared, he approached the truck while scratching his head and various other body parts.
"Where are the cattle?" I roared out of the window of the truck, for time was moving on and there was big money to be made. Alas, the farmer didn't have a clue and that's the trouble with outwintered cattle, they can roam anywhere.
Then Connie, always an inventive sort of fellow, got out and suggested we take up a few of the old buckets and bang them together vigorously. He knew, you see, that cattle of this nature would have been bucket-reared (as well as being outwintered), and as such would respond to the call of the bucket.
Well, the drums of Kilmichael began to beat for the missing cattle, and for a long time the beating was in vain. Eventually, however, who should stick his head out of a stall window only one of the missing bullocks, and sure enough, didn't the other fellow wander into view too, all thanks to Connie and the rattling buckets.
Gates were soon dragged together and got the bullocks penned. Then the truck gently backed up, the ramp went down and the placid beasts wandered in, for nobody ever refuses a day out in Macroom.
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And as we all climbed onboard, man and beast, I predicted riches for everyone. Needless to say, a little later once our cattle appeared in the mart ring, hands went up like there was no tomorrow.
And when the announcement came through they were all 'outliers' (our ace card) it was as if Taylor Swift herself had appeared, the hands went into overdrive. An outwintered animal you see, is like yourself after a bowl of porridge.
In the finish, a right large sum was being offered, a sum so mighty that only a fool would refuse. Big money was made on the day, for as always, what farmers like me have on offer is nothing only the genuine.
