DIARY FROM A FAMILY FARM IN ULSTER
MORROWS WORLD
DIARY FROM A FAMILY FARM IN ULSTER
I WAS badly caught out last week when my mother-in-law came into the kitchen to see me making a new sign for our wee banty hen. It read: "Nancy hatched out her chicks…". Of course, my mother-in laws name is Nancy. Thankfully she took it in good part and to be honest she could have had something far less attractive named after her than my wee white banty.
We had a big Highland calf called "Molly" after a favourite aunt, a massive rabbit called "Janne" after a very large Swedish friend, but probably the biggest test of friendship was when I called two Berkshire pigs Ellie and Susie after two of my best friends Eleanor and Susan.
Giving animals names and personalities seems to come quite naturally to me – I am a wee bit "saft" when it comes to a guinea pig or kitten and I am absolutely daft when it comes to pups, they are by far my favourite animal.
However, I am getting harder when it comes to dealing with people who want to palm off their unwanted pets on me. I used to really struggle when I heard the sorry tales of people moving house and not being able take their well-loved floppy eared rabbit (who is always really good with
children and usually pedigree) and who would just love to donate it to a good home. Then there are the ones whose children have just suddenly become allergic to the cat, the old people who can no longer look after the pet goat they have had for six years and the inevitable family who have just had a stray dog dumped on their doorstep and who would love to keep it but they have a cat.
For a long time I felt really guilty saying no. I could picture the wee abandoned rabbit with the floppy ears, I heard the tremor of emotion in the grannys voice as she tried to persuade me, I felt like the wicked witch of the north at times.
However, I have been converted. I now realise that these people are the ones rejecting the animals, not me – I do look after mine, my conscience is clear. I will no longer be made to squirm as I make up excuses as to why their beautiful white kitten wouldnt get on with my spoilt ginger tom. I now just keep my voice as cheerful as possible, and with a carefully measured level of sympathy I tell them we do not have the facilities to rehome unwanted pets. I must be getting very hard in my old age.
But all this new-found assertive behaviour doesnt help when people just leave their abandoned animals on our doorstep. I have literally walked up to our rabbit pen to see a fully grown bunny who was not there the day before. Just yesterday Addie, my father-in-law, saw someone throw a box from their car and drive off. By the time I got down to it the box was overturned and what ever was in had escaped – hopefully to follow them home.
As you might imagine, Helen is appalled at my new determined self. She would take in every waif and stray that passes her way, but luckily she wasnt here to worry about what had happened to the occupant of the empty box. She is in Spain with her friends family, enjoying sunshine, which is something we havent seen here for quite some time. Amy is away too, leaving Jenny very miffed that she is getting no foreign holiday this year. We have our camping week in August still to come however and Johnston and I are really looking forward to the break, but I can understand why Jenny is not excited about the prospect of a week of drizzle under canvas. But for me, there will be no phone and the only rabbits are wild ones – thats holiday enough.