In this country of ours, where a public inquiry can be launched at the drop of a hat, or indeed the (alleged) pilfering of an Olympic ticket, I feel it’s high time that we in farming had a public inquiry all of our own.

“And what issue in farming requires a public inquiry?” you may ask. 

“Would it be an inquiry into why so many of us have no money in our pockets, or no women in our arms?”

No, of course not.

That inquiry would take the best legal minds years to complete. It could cost the country millions.

What I’m looking for is a much more straightforward inquisition, a look into why a perfectly happy weanling bull is so determined to leave a certain farm in Co Cork and clamber over a boundary ditch into his neighbour’s place? Why? why? why?

Like many’s a wrongdoer, taspy could well be the cause and a swift kick in the arse could well be the answer.

But that, of course, is only one man’s humble opinion. I feel a public inquiry into the thing is the only answer. It would make much more sense, particularly when they seem so easy to set up.

Some clever creatures are better at disappearing than others, as our columnist can confirm.
Some clever creatures are better at disappearing than others, as our columnist can confirm.

Chaired, naturally enough, by a retired High Court judge, it could look into all matters pertaining to the case. But most importantly of all look at the weanling bull himself, a Jersey in this case.

The public inquiry, when complete, would then hopefully give the farmer responsible for the wellbeing of the animal a definitive answer into why the hoor keeps on heading over into foreign parts and doing the divil of harm.

And while yes, in this case the neighbour may indeed have better grass, that can be clear to be seen, and he does, if truth be told, have a fine bunch of heifers all set to get a weanling bull’s heart thumping, you’d still have to yourself ask why does he go?

Indeed, as I lie here in bed this morning, it’s the one and only question occupying my mind, that, and wondering what delights I will be having for the breakfast.

The Jersey weanling bull was brought back home yesterday evening after he mounted the much besieged boundary ditch and escaped to pastures new for the third time this summer. 

And while it might be argued that being a Jersey, travel is in his nature, it bothers me greatly to find him gone of a morning when I go to see if he’s still there.

The neighbour in this case is a man of a very understanding nature, and but for his kind nature heaven only knows what kind of mess a certain farmer, who shall remain nameless for legal reasons, would be in.

Of course, some might suggest that the weanling bull in this case should be squeezed, and squeezed hard.

“That would put a stop to his gallop,” the more robust among you might argue.

But in the name of god, if every male who misbehaves in any way had the balls taken off from under him, there’d be precious few of us sauntering around with our dangly bits still dangling. Castration should never be the first option in any crisis.

It would be far better to have a public inquiry, that’s the only way to get to the bottom of anything in this country, and the sooner the better.


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