Tom-Tum and his Mum

Last year we unexpectedly became the adoptive-parents of a stray cat and four of her kittens. However, the circumstances were much more complicated and heart-rending than they sound (albeit, we are sure, just one tale of many thousands of tales of suffering due to the irresponsible actions of cat-owners).
It began, (as it so often does), with us becoming increasingly aware of the most woeful miaeowing cries around our neighbourhood ‘wild areas’. Then, a cat began to come to our garden on a regular basis, though it wouldn’t show itself voluntarily; we had glimpses of an emaciated black and white female cat with amber eyes. So, we began leaving a saucer of milk for it which was eagerly lapped up if we backed off and left it to its own company. Any attempt at approach on our part resulted in spitting and it running into cover.

After a week or two, a very young starving, cross-eyed, feeble kitten appeared with her - wild and unapproachable, spitting as herself. He also voraciously lapped up milk offered. He wasn’t far from death, shaky and trembling, his little skeleton all lumps and bumps stuck out; this even a week or two after we began feeding him. We named him ‘Tom-tum’ because of his ability to drink saucer after saucer of the white stuff. Gradually, he and his mother gained confidence through familiarity and began taking table scraps and a little dog-meat, and letting us a little closer.

After a while they moved into our shed to live, and we were able to feed them a little meat and milk at the back door beside it. There was no limit to what either of them could consume, especially milk. We simply called the older cat ‘Mummy’.

We assumed Tom-Tum’s siblings had died of starvation, and we are certain another week before he came to us would have seen him follow the same fate. Indeed, ‘Mummy’ was in a pitifully thin state, no doubt due in large part to the demands of ongoing pregnancies and attempting to feed frequent litters. Such terrible, terrible, avoidable, suffering. Ignorance is no excuse in these informed times for poor pet-husbandry. The remedies are easily available to prevent this kind of thing through various schemes. We’re meant to be the superior race on this planet. A society is judged by the way it treats its animals.

So, we decided there and then we had seen a bellyful of suffering. We agreed that as soon as ‘Mummy’ stopped suckling ‘Tom-Tum’ and he was six months old, we would have him neutered and her spayed. We would not have ‘Tom-tum’ adding to the misery by fathering semi-wild, unwanted kittens. In addition, ‘Mummy’ could begin recuperating from the misery that her life had been. Her body was ravaged. There was nothing to her.

Then, fate intervened, as fate is inclined to do. We heard movement in the shed when neither ‘Tom-tum- or ‘Mummy’ were in it. On investigation we discovered three more young kittens about two weeks old.

So, we liased with our local cat rescue centre who gave us advice to advertise the kittens locally through placing posters, so homes might be found by the time they were were weaned from their mother at about eight – twelve weeks. Meanwhile, they would place them on a long list for re-homing, and send us two certificates to assist with spaying and neutering Tom-tum and his mum at a local vet.

This is not a nice tale. It has a good outcome in that we now have two loved and lovely cats who have recovered and are happy, playful, and living good-quality lives here as part of River Cottage. However, 'Mummy' remains very apprehensive and will not enter our house, she is constantly worried the door will be shut on her and cut off her avenue of escape. We think she must have been abused in the past as we found a big callus under her ribs from an old fracture - we presume she took a kick off someone- Tom is fine now and has grown well. 'Mummy is a plump cat that loves food and is very, very loving and affectionate. The three other kittens were found good homes with owners who wanted cats, and who will have them neutered (all three were males) at 6 months old. But it could all so easily have all been prevented, the misery avoided, for a little thought and a few miserable euros.

A Profusion of Primroses

Spring is here! The weather has become milder. Daffodils, ‘Tete-a Tete’, ‘February Gold’, and our native ‘Van Sion’, are all perfect - glowing with sunshine - and not, as is the case some years, battered by storms. There are other spring beauties flowering too; helleborus orientalis, the Lenten Rose, is a lovely, velvety, maroon, with an almost white centre. The crocus tomasinius are almost gone over - new ones have emerged in palest lilac-blue from beneath an elder bush - I hardly remember planting them - a welcome surprise!

A profusion of primroses are flowering, along with the small starry blue flowers of variegated Periwinkle minor, and the first bees have been visiting them. Dandelions and daisies are a cheery, welcome sight – they are such lovely weeds! The willows are all in bud, the silver-white buds lighting the bare brown branches.

The birds are calling and singing throughout the day now, as they feed on peanuts and gather any spilled seeds our ducks might have left behind.

I was fortunate to see a goldcrest today. He was announcing spring from the fuchsia hedge beside me as I tidied the raised vegetable beds; an insistent song almost too enthusiastic at the end. They are here every year, across the river in the fir trees, but they are most heard from a thicket of silver birch and rhododendrons. We often hear their song, but rarely see them.

The first lambs of the season arrived in the village on Saturday. Our neighbour pointed them out to me, on the hill at the back of our cottage; twins. We were anxious for them as the season is early but they are hardier than you might think and the ewes are good, attentive mothers. They become stronger and more playful with each passing day.

Frogspawn has appeared in our drainage ditch over the past two nights. They seem to lay around the 20th Feb. every year. Some nights we can creep up quietly and hear the frogs “singing” and splashing in frog heaven. Then, next morning, there are the half-submerged black-spotted glistening eggs we are so familiar with from our childhoods.

Our only laying hen and a newly-matured duck have started up this week – the eggs are most welcome – by the way a duck-egg is perfectly boiled at seven minutes.

We are still missing ‘Prince’, as he was such a part of our everyday lives, involved in everything we did with the garden and poultry. He is with us in spirit.

Spring is here - we hope!

The spring apple-green lily leaves of zantedeschia aethiopica are peeping from the drain. Even the evergreens are refreshed; the green glow that is spring infused in everything. Our piebald cat with amber eyes rolls on the sunny south side of the cottage. The first brave saffron flowers light the one gorse bush by the duck-house informing us as reliably as daffodils that spring has finally sprung - hooray!

Our local ‘hoodie’ crow scolds me from the telephone wires – his sap is also rising - hormones have the better of him! Blue tits and Great tits are scrapping for peanuts. Our scarlet bottlebrush (callistemon), has cheered us from November with its aptly named bristly flowers – we are surprised as it is frost tender and normally flowers in summer – Is it because it originates from the southern hemisphere, Australia, and its summer there now?

The new stone Buddha sits oblivious in meditation posture among the potted plants and strawberry runners, gone into Nirvana.

Close by, a Great tit’s loud insistent call fills the garden with enthusiasm for the season. They arrive in gangs before dusk, all the titmouse family, to gorge in preparation for the coming night – tonight is going to be cold; the wind has dropped and the sky is a clear blue.

The orange and yellow buoys we use as a bit of garden decoration, found after storms on the local beaches, in different shapes and sizes, some round, some elliptical, lie littered around as though a spring tide overwhelmed us while we slept. It is just they are obvious to us now, whereas in winter we were both unaware and unconcerned about them.

It is time to be potting up our rooted cuttings from last autumn. We shall grow them on until they are ready to be sold at Achill Country Market either this summer or next.

Our ‘palm tree’ (well it is, sort of) beside the cottage front is now some 12 feet tall from planting some five years ago. Last year it flowered for the first time, a long cream bract with exquisite lily scent - we have four others or more at various stages of maturity – if they all flower this summer we could be driven out! Oh well, it isn’t long here before a stiff breeze blows again.

The river Shraheens, perhaps best called an enthusiastic stream or brook, is our constant companion. It has largely receded to a background whisper we have grown accustomed to, except after heavy rain when it rises rapidly and its rumbling torrent draws us to witness its raw power. Anyone who calls to the cottage is instantly aware of it and comments that they could sit all day just listening. Is it because water is our most ancient home?

There is new growth at the tips of the hebe shrubs and the bright green swords of montbretia are pushing above their old bedraggled orange-brown leaves. Spring is here at River Cottage – we hope!

An Extract from Eileen's 2008 journal

On January 3rd this New Year started with a bang, or rather a storm. It began mid-afternoon and accelerated until evening when it became a force 12 storm which continued through the night and most of the next day.

Despite the battering our Phormium (New Zealand flax) varieties and Australian palms fared well, as did our other coastal plants. They have been selectively bred/evolved to withstand coastal weather.

A good number of birds have been visiting the garden; blackbirds; thrushes; robins, wrens, and many of the finch and tit families.We are also fortunate to have reed buntings, sparrowhawks, kestrels, and a woodcock, though admittedly some of these are just passing through or overhead.

This is the third year I have participated in the Birdwatch Ireland Garden Survey. It is a useful exercise, both from a national and local perspective as, through comparisons of data, birds can be identified which are increasing or declining. In our garden here at River Cottage, due to the fact we don’t tidy up in Autumn, or use pesticides or herbicides, and feed peanuts and mixed seeds, the birdlife is flourishing.

Mid- January here was very mild and very wet with sunny spells; daffodils and crocuses were almost in bloom. March also came in with severe storms. this set us back clearing up our raised vegetable beds. Then I had to do most work in April.This year we sowed first early potatoes – Orla - recommended for organic growing. Our usual onions, Sturon, and yellow shallots were sown - they always give good yields. I have used a lot of organic seeds where possible as they are suitable to our wayof growing under ‘Bio-fleece’. Nantes gave us a great crop and, most importantly, excellent flavour. In addition they kept well in the ground all Winter. Organic beetroot is another excellent doer. Parsnips are a problem to germinate - this year I started them off in a damp j-clothand transplanted them when tiny green shoots were showing. A bit fiddly but well worth the effort for the excellent success rate.I grow four types of lettuce, mostly for pulling leavesor cut and come again varieties; Lollo Rosso, Little Gem, Tom Thumb, Mixed Oak Leaves.We are also trying three types of beans - broad beans ‘The Sutton’, French bean ‘The Prince’, and Fine beans ‘Tendergreen’. We shall see how successful they are.

Spring Update

One of the things I do here is paint. In particular, flower paintings are what are of interest to me presently. Of course the new chalet with its north-facing roof lights provides a very good studio, in addition to being private and quiet.

I paint in acrylics but hope to try my hand with oils soon. This image (above ) is titled 'nasturtiums'. I painted it last year on 24 inches x 20 inches board. I am in the process of painting more flower images and have managed to put aside at least one day a week dedicated to my painting - though even that can be difficult to achieve at times.

Spring flowers are coming into their own at the cottage. The weather has grown milder - 10 C in the day - and the pussy willow are swelling into their silvery loveliness. Crocus tomasinius Whitewell purple is putting on a good display as is the miniature alpine téte-a-téte narcissi. Our helleborus orientalis are sending their slim-stemmed deep-maroon flowers up through these grey days. Our 'native' narcissi 'van sion' is also cautiously sending its yellow-budded spears skywards.

Gold and green-finches have become more frequent visitors to our peanut boxes since the New Year, and we have observed a few long-tailed-tits which we don't see very often here.

Our local woodcock is patrolling at dusk - a flittery silhouette passing the cottage each evening - a minute later each evening as spring lengthens the days.

Eileen found an old dunnock’s nest beneath a pittosporum bush a few days ago – it must have been blown out by the last storm. Each year we are discovering more birds are deciding to breed in the garden. So far we have been aware of successful wrens, dunnocks and robins but each summer there are gangs of young tits and blackbirds, chaffinches, thrushes, and swallows around, so they must also be breeding very locally.

Have a lovely day - I'm going back to my painting.

A Dark Day

On Friday, 6^th February, our lovely sheepdog Prince became very poorly. He suddenly went off his legs and deteriorated further over the weekend. He lost interest in food which used to constantly occupy his thoughts. Day and night, he needed our companionship and reassurance, until the sad decision was made to have him euthanized.

Monday, 9^th February, dawned bright and crisp with beautiful frost patterns on the car, and a dusting of snow on the Currane hills. But our feelings were of a terrible sadness at our impending loss. Wrapped in a wool blanket, we loaded Prince in the back of the car to make the trip to the vets in Castlebar. I held him in my arms. The glorious scenery passed by with the same feeling as when you are going to a close relative's funeral.

Although sad, there was huge relief on our part when Prince passed away with us there, telling him he was a good dog and could go to sleep. We were heartbroken as he had been part of our family and daily lives for over twelve years - he had come to us as a puppy from a barn in Ashleam, the next village over from here, beside the Atlantic ocean..

He was the largest, distinctively marked, dog puppy, in a litter of six, with the most striking blue eyes. Being very intelligent, he understood a large vocabulary, as well as posessing an uncanny ability to detect people’s moods and intentions. He loved his “jobs” - rounding up ducks and hens, chasing sheep and cattle away from the gate, barking at ‘Ger the post’. But most of all he was a true friend and companion to us. He will be sorely missed.