A Day On The Farm With Some "Premiership" Cows

It was a cold icy morning as I trundled down the stairs.

My alarm had been set for 6.30am as we had a long journey ahead of us. I opened the front door to be greeted by the morning sun as it struggled to shake off the shackles of a night's rest, its orange glow casting a silhouette amongst the fir trees facing my home.

Frost had formed across all the windows of my car, so I went back into the warmth to boil a kettle. Listening to the radio, I was informed that it would be another cold wintry day and that icy conditions were to be expected across the country.

As The White Stripes began to play on the morning show the kettle boiled and woke me from humming along with the bass riff from "Seven Nation Army." I walked out to the garden looking forward to the day ahead with dum, dum dum dum dum dummmm dum ringing in my head.

It was a good way to start the morning.

As I poured the hot water over my windscreen I was struck by the ice formations on the roof of my car. They glistened in perfect harmony to my tune. With the windows clear and the car heating up, I jumped in to begin my journey.

I had not visited my Uncle's farm in years, and was looking forward to seeing him and the land immensely. Tadhg owned a farm in County Cavan, and it was a good two hour drive from my home in Meath, three on a day such as this.

His farm is located in one of Ireland's beauty spots. Believe it or not, Cavan—which is one of the smallest counties in Ireland—has over 370 lakes. Many of these spread through my Uncle's farm and over the years he has landscaped some of the land surrounding these lakes with chalets for tourists.

The farm is a dairy farm, so his day is always half over by the time I normally arise from my bed and despite the unyielding winter, today would be no different.

I had decided to set off so early because I had to be back in Dublin for a match later on that evening. We were entertaining the league leaders Crumlin at home, which gave the local derby a little more spice than usual. Win and we went joint second, so the match was one we all had to be up for.

The journey to Cavan was a very straight forward one, except for all the back roads I had to traverse. In this part of the country, there is very little road lighting and they haven't taken to cats eyes yet so I drove with my full lights on for most of the winding journey.

By the time I had arrived at Tadhg's farm the sun had risen to an acceptable level—it wasn't bright, but it was no longer dark. It was almost as if the dark orange ball in the sky was contemplating the same thing I was. Why was I up so early on my holidays?

Raul, my Uncle's dalmatianm heard the car pull into the gravel drive and ran up to greet me in an enthusiastic bouncing manner. He jumped up and down like he had just met a long lost friend, and he had too. The last time I was at the farm was some five years before to bury Tadhg's wife Therese, and Raul was only a pup then. I was surprised that he still remembered me.

Standing on his hind legs Raul threw his front paws across my shoulders as he licked my face, through the slobbering and my laughing, I managed to call for Tadhg and he appeared right on cue from around the corner.

He looked much older than the last time I had seen him. He still wore the same old battered brown "Equaliser" coat and his hair was still in a pony tail, his long curling locks that were blond when he was young were now grey with age, but somehow it just looked right for him. The lines on his face gave away his humour and made it next to impossible to give him an age.

Was he 50 or 60? He looked almost exactly the same when my parents brought me down to his farm when I was a child. As we embraced each other for what seemed like an age, he asked me if I wanted a cuppa before or after we had done our morning's work, and then he started laughing.

I had almost forgotten his cackle, childhood memories came flooding back as we walked in the kitchen with our arms around each others shoulders.

Tadhg was a great footballer in his day, and he played in England for a time as a professional. Unfortunately his career was brought to an end by a horrific over the top challenge, but he has never shown bitterness about it, always saying it was just part of the game.

I think he blames himself, and one thing he has instilled in me is always protect yourself when playing, be committed, ask no favour and take none. One lesson that has always stuck with me is that if you go in half-hearted, you're more likely to be broken up, so be committed always.

After our cup of cha and some polite conversation, we finally began to talk about his love. Football.

As you've probably guessed, Tadhg is obsessed with soccer. From the time he comes in off the farm to rising the next morning, he eats, sleeps, and breaths the game. Since his retirement through injury, he has coached and scouted for some English and Scottish teams, but since Therese's death he has given most of his scouting up.

Now he helps out in the local schools, but he still has a few contacts and he helped a local lad move to Scotland last year.

Work wasn't finished on the farm so Tadhg asked if I could help him and Raul gather up his best herd. He calls the herd the league and as someone who loves football, he has given each cow a name to match their personality.

The walk to the field did not take us long, and the midday sun hovered over the farm in a cloudless blue sky. In small shadowed corners, you could still see the remains of last nights snow fall. It clung to the cold ground like a forgotten blanket.

I climbed the gate leading to the field where the cows were grazing while Raul ran through it barking excitedly. Tadhg simply opened the gate, laughing at my reddening face. As I stepped backwards, trying to think of something smart to say, I stepped in a cow pat, which sent him into convulsions.

On hearing Raul barking, "The League" began to spread across the field, trying to get away from this polka dotted menace. Tadhg gave him a stiff call and Raul stopped instantly, and then he made his way to his master's side where he sat down.

"How many do you have in this herd Tadhg?" I asked.

"Oh, there are 20 in this one, I gathered the others this morning, but I wanted you to see these ones. They're me best, and some of them have even won prizes." he replied.

All I could see was a field of cows.

"You see that heifer there Bill, the one that looks like it has a wet brown blanket on it's back?" As I gazed around the field I was surprised to see he still had his favourite cow "Alex". She was over 20-years-old now, and I was sure that she would have been gone by now.

Alex was an "Aberdeen Angus" and over the years he had won Tadhg many prizes in "the Lovely Cow" competitions. They're just an excuse for farmers from near and far to gather for a weekend and go on the lash, but Tadhg had a competitive streak that made him want to win every year, and Alex was his most successful cow.

I said "God, I thought Alex would have been gone by now Tadhg, what age is she? She must be 20 at least."

"Are ye mad boy, Alex there is almost 24 now, and she's still the best cow I have. You know a few years ago, I did think about "retiring" her, she just wasn't the same cow she had always been you know. Couldn't give milk like she used to, but, I don't know. Looks like she dug deep and found somthin' somewheres, she's as good as ever, and she won me a whole load of competitions last year, against much younger gals too.

"You know what they say, 'Form is temporary, Class is permanent'. I don't use her milk for people Bill, mainly for the other animals but she's a hardy, undemanding, adaptable creature, so she fits in well."

I smiled at Tadhg, he was always a card and he certainly loved his cows.

"But who are the other cows that Alex is with Tadhg, are they her friends?" I asked a little mockingly. Tadhg laughed, "You know, they are Bill. The tall lanky kinda cow, why I call her Frenchie. If there's one cow that can produce milk that can make you drink nothing else, then it's her. And the other two are Fat Frankie and The Bull.

"Fat Frankie is a great gal, and a few years ago I thought she'd have a big future in the Lovely Cow competition but something seems wrong with her at the moment. She seems depressed to me and I'm thinking about changing her feed.

"I used to buy this Portuguese stuff from Scudamore in the village and she loved it. But he sourced cheaper Brazilian feed, and although she liked it at the start she seems to be going off it. It'll be worth getting that Portuguese stuff back, just to see the smile on her face. You haven't lived until you see a cow smile Bill," he said before laughing.

"The other cow is The Bull. He's from Spanish descent, and he might give Alex a run for his money this year though. He's normally a quiet type, but lately he been doing all kinds of mooing. Some sounds I'd never even heard before! I tell ya, he knows there's a competition coming up and he wants ta be there."

"Are them four special or something Tadhg, they seem a bit bigger than the rest?" I asked.

"Funny you should say that. They're me best milkers, and have been for the last few years. So I give them a different feed than I give to the rest. A little bit more expensive. But it's worth it when you taste their cream. Just beautiful.

"I really should give them all the same feed ya know, but I can't afford that so fours me limit. I did try to do it with five a few years ago, but it just got too messy."

Around the field the cows seemed to be separating into little cliques, a group of four here, two there, and three here. But a group of around 11 or so stood still in the field just looking at us. It was becoming a bit unnerving to be honest, so I asked Tadhg was there something wrong.

"Nah, there's nothing. Every year I have to pick three to go for slaughter. It's part of my contract with the dairy.

"Normally it's not too hard to choose you know. Generally it's the one with the least amount of milk, or the poorest quality cream. But this year is different, I don't know if it's the feed I'm giving them or not but there is around 10 or 11 cows who are eligible this year.

"It's not a vintage year by any means but I've still got to make a decision so it'll probably go right down to calving season in May, when I choose which three calves can come up to this herd.

I'll be open minded until then. It will be a tough choice you know, some of these cows are me favourites and there's one or two in there that I really expected big things from, but they don't seem capable of consistently giving me good milk, so...," he said, before running his thumb across his neck.

"A few years ago I had this beauty, got her in London as a babe. From the same farm as Frenchie, but she just ain't able to reach those creamy heights. I know she's got it inside her, but I just don't know how to get it out. And believe me I've tried, and now she seems to have consigned herself to the abattoir. But there's still time yet for her.

"I mean, all you have to do is look at the rest of me herd. Hully hasn't eaten properly in months, I've had the vet look at her and he can't find whats wrong. Big Joe just goes to the toilet all day. At the rate she drops feckin sh*t, the ozone layer will be eroded by March. I've still got to bring Bubbles to the vet, last year she had "The Argentinian Cow Flu" and I'm not convinced she has fully recovered. If she hasn't then I'll have no option with her.

"The Scarlet Pompernel won me a little prize last year and I had high hopes for her, but there is something wrong there. She ain't sick, I know that much, but something has made her two best babes leave her to suckle with Frenchie's sister, the Cowboy. 'member I told you about him earlier."

I nodded, all I saw were cows, but Tadhg knew them so well he had given them all personalities. And now he was racking himself with guilt over which ones he had to slaughter.

"I'm still kind of worried about Frenchie too. This year she has been a little sick, her milk has had a real poor quality to it compared to a few years ago. And I don't have enough money to give her extra feed, so it looks like she could need a few years rest.

"Marty and The Dogs of War have been real strong this year too. And unless Frenchie can make herself better on the feed I give her, it looks like one of them may get the good stuff next year.

"My biggest worry though is Aladdin. I must admit, I did a little bit of an experiment with him. I crossed a Baladi with a Friesien, in the hope that I'd get a kind of super cow. I wouldn't take such a risk with some of me favourites, so I did it with Al."

"Isn't that morally wrong Tadhg?" I asked

"You could argue that alright. But cross breeding has been going on for centuries. And if Aladdin produces as much milk as his brother Alex is capable of, then there'll be no stopping him. He'll produce the best and the most.

"Unfortunately I'll have to give him double deluxe feeds every day, so it'll be expensive until the dairy pay up and I win some prizes. And even then the expense will outweigh the glory, but there are only so many chances to win prizes, so it's a gamble I'm willing to take. For the moment I'm feeding her a little of the Brazilian feed in the hope that she produces more. But I'll be honest with you, so far it's not looking good.

"Earlier in the year I started mixing her feed with a Welsh biscuit, but so far it hasn't worked. So come the summer if she avoids the slaughter I might have to go for a Portugese biscuit. Believe it or not, I'll have to import it from Italy!!"

We rounded up the herd with Raul's help. Tadhg and I on the outskirts waving flags while Raul ran in and out of the cattle. Everything was going well as the cattle made their way to the pen.

Then all hell broke loose. One of Alex's calves and one of the Bulls calves bumped off each other. Little Ron fell on the ground like she had been shot, which caused Alex and the Bull to come running at each other. Mooing at the top of their lungs in each others faces.

Raul tried to make peace, and barked furiously as he tried to separate them. By this stage all the other cows had gathered in a circle to see what had happened, all except Frenchie who appeared not to have seen anything even though she was right next to Little Ron when it all happened.

Eventually, we calmed all the cattle down. And they made their way to their pen for the night.

Tadhg and I made our way back to his house and I thanked him for the enjoyable day. As I climbed into my car to make my way home I waved and told him I would visit again soon.

The engine started and the radio came on. It was the sports news, the whole segment was dominated by Rafael Benitez and Alex Ferguson as they continued their war of words in the feeble attempts to get one over each other, and of the Abu Dhabi consortium at City trying to buy Kaka.

I laughed as I remembered the cows mooing at each other before they went to their pen. Now why couldn't football managers take a leaf from the herd's book and just try to get along...