Spancelled: “To those who thole a life spancelled with cows.”

‘Spancel, An animal fetter, esp one used to hobble a cow during milking.’ OED.

It may seem an unusual thing to do, commissioning a life-sized sculpture of a man and cow to stand at the gateway to a modern Dairy.

But when you think about it, for a man whose life has been devoted to working with cows as a farmer, and later as a Dairy owner and businessman, Eamon Cunningham’s idea for a sculpture of a man and cow entitled ‘Spancelled’ at the entrance to the family dairy makes perfect sense.

For Eamon, it is the most natural thing in the world, to mark and to celebrate in a unique way, what he considers to be one of the most important symbiotic relationships in Irish life.

The Cunningham family have been involved in dairy farming in Omagh for around 160 years. And, as a market town with a rural hinterland, Omagh has itself had an integral relationship with livestock, dairy and beef farming, the animal feed industry, tanning and the country markets.

Eamon’s father and grandfather were integral to that, involved in everything from tanning animal hides to supplying milk. Eamon himself ran the family dairy for years, and spent his time as Patrick Kavanagh memorably described it ‘outside in the cow house. . . made the music of milking’.

Eamon says: ‘I have been lucky to earn a living from farming and from the Dairy. The dairy farming has been taken over by [my son] Cormac.’

He laughingly admits he didn’t necessarily take to dairy farming naturally saying:

“If I had a fractious enough relationship with cows, Cormac is a natural with the animals. Looking after them, giving them fodder, calving, milking. You should watch him. Marvellous.”

It reminded me of Ted Hughes description of cows ‘Cantankerous at the hay’. In almost a single breath Eamon moves from his own experiences, to what he describes as the symbiotic link between man and cow. It is that instinctive expression and appreciation of knowing that man and cow have always co–existed side by side that led him to commission a sculpture by the well-known artist John Behan.

It is easy to infer that the man in the sculpture is Eamon, but it isn’t – it represents every farmer that ever worked with cows. It is says Eamon a celebration of that and something that he hopes may make people stop for a moment and think.

Eamon followed in the footsteps of his brother Pauric in re establishing the Strathroy Dairy in 1972 in part to provide employment at a time when it was needed in Omagh and in part because it was the natural and obvious thing to do for a dairy farmer whose family had an established name in the Dairy industry in Omagh and West Tyrone.

It is now one of the best-known dairy businesses in the Island of Ireland.

And the alpha and omega of that industry, of dairy life and of the farm in Strathroy is man and cow, cow and man. Spancelled.

Footnote:

The dedication: ‘To those who thole a life spancelled with cows.’

http://youtu.be/X8QGWBLTGrk

http://youtu.be/X8QGWBLTGrk
A while back I extended the wireless network in the house/office so that we could get access anywhere. I also hoped that by boosting the wireless coverage my mother might be able to piggyback from her house a few doors up. To achieve that I think I’d need a industrial strength transmitter.

One of the advantages of this new network coverage is that I can hook up Airplay devices through the house, pumping music from room to room. I also now can sit out in the back garden on one of the many balmy summer’s days we have and do some work.

And so today that was possible. I read a bit. Wrote a couple of draft pieces for a client. Had a telephone call to make. Twas hard to beat really. A cup of coffee, sitting back in the sun. Until. . .

On Friday last Angela brought home from school a couple of pet rabbits called Beano and Dandy. Beano so called because he’s an albino, a furry wee white critter. Dandy named presumably because you can’t have a comic without a straight man, and in the case of these two comedians Dandy is the joker. He certainly made a fool out of me. The children love them of course and its hard not to be enchanted when they bunny hop hither and thither about their wee stockade. Until. . .

So there I am working the outdoor life when I catch a glimpse of the corner of my eye of the lad Dandy merrily skipping rabbitly across the garden. Born free, Maze escaper, Houdini fan, whatever. Off he went hoppity hop, stopping here and there for a quick much of grass, a taste of dandelion, a soupcon of daisy. . . The wee bollix I thought.

We’ve two guinea pigs that routinely make a run for it when they get the chance outside but we’re wise to them. Dandy to be fair saw his chance and legged it.

I passed the next 45 minutes trying to lure the pesky varmint back into custody with a carrot (what else, c’mon we’ve all seen Bugs Bunny). Dandy looked at me munching a carrot: ‘What’s Up Doc?’ he said before skipping back under the hedge eluding my grasp once again. Then, off he went and hid under the garden shed, appearing round one side as I looked under the other.

By this stage the humour was off me. To lose one rabbit would be unfortunate, unforgiveable. How would I explain myself. So, I brought over the chair, and the iPad and settled down in front of the shed for the long haul. Either he surrendered or hopefully the kids would come back.

Within a short while Sorcha arrived skippily around the side of the house. Our own Dr Doolittle. I swear she can talk to the animals. Within three minutes with the help of Peter they had Dandy back behind bars.

I can see where Warner Brothers got the inspiration. Not for the faint hearted this working outdoors. It’s a jungle out there in business these days, and you never know what you might come up against.

That’s all folks.