Life in the Burren

So I suppose I've developed a bit of a routine, if you can call it that, this first week. I get up--have been getting up earlier and earlier now that I'm all recovered from my walk--have my oatmeal and tea and then tend to the animals (well, after I check my email).

First, to the shed. Out of the rodents, the guinea pig, Binny, seems to be the friendliest and most excited to see me (or get his food). He resides in a large plastic container that's perched above the rabbits' fenced in area and whenever I come in he comes up to the edge and looks as though he's going to leap out. He has a little wooden house to sleep in.

There's usually a rabbit sitting in the litter box below while the rest nestle together in a corner. I feed them, give them their fruit and veggies (apple, carrots, some cabbage leaves), make sure they have fresh hay, water, and scoop up their little rabbit pellets that did not make in the litter box. The rabbit sitting in the litter box does not move an inch while I do this. I put their leftover food in a bucket that gets mixed in with the chickens' food pellets and oatmeal, their droppings and all. It kind of amazes me that these animals will poop in their food and eat it. Anyway, I turn on the classical music radio station for them, leave the shed door open for fresh air and sunlight, and head to the chicken coop.

As soon as the chickens see me they start bawking (and it sounds like they're saying in very concerned voices, Ohhhh! Oh, myyyy!) and as I get inside their run I have to be careful not to step on their feet because they stand right in front of wherever it is I seem to be going. I give them their food and they begin gobbling it down like crazy. I check their water and then check the eggs. There has typically been 8 to 9 eggs in the morning. I collect the eggs that are then dated and stored for the woman to pick up next week. The chickens don't get let out until noon because some still have eggs to lay and if the door is open the lurking magpies might fly in and try to steal the eggs. Once I let them out they are everywhere. Yesterday I spent some time writing in the kitchen with the door open listening to the wife's Middle Eastern music on the GigaJuke (very handy contraption) and two chickens hung out on the steps, peering in at me, and pooping. This has been something that I've found rather disgusting and I'd like to look into permaculture theory to find out ways that this can be useful and contained rather than contaminating. I would also like to have my own chickens sometime but would not be able to tolerate the mess everywhere. Perhaps they can be trained to use a litter box.

So, like I said, I've been trying to develop a routine. I'm making an effort to get out and go for walks, although the weather has been less than inviting (rainy, cold, dreary). When I was walking the Dingle Way I didn't really feel like I had much of a choice to hang back because of the weather--I took a rest if my body needed it, otherwise I needed to keep moving if I was going to make it in time to my destination. Here it's a lot easier to want to stay inside with everything I need. I think this has been a concern to the neighbors down the road, an older couple with two sons in their 30s that live with them. On Tuesday, I was napping on the couch in the middle of the day after not getting enough sleep the night before. I opened my eyes and saw a man looking in the window. I immediately got up and went out to say hello but felt a little odd at the same time because I was wearing my yukata, a casual Japanese kimono that is very comfortable--people wear them all over the place in public in Japan, but here I'm guessing I looked like someone that stays in their bathrobe all day. The man asked me if everything was alright and if I needed to get into town and go to the shops, that they hadn't seen me outside and asked if I was scared being in the house alone. I said I was fine, just a little concerned about the busy road. I said perhaps I would go into town tomorrow. Everything was fine. He walked back home, which would be equal to a couple of blocks, using crutches, he'd just had hip surgery. I felt bad that I didn't invite him in for a cup of tea, which is the custom, but the awkward glances at my yukata caused me to feel a bit uncomfortable.

So the next day I was just doing my thing, took care of the animals, got out a lawn chair and sat in the sun (it was a beautiful sunny day, but the chickens were pecking at me and trying to get on the lawn chair), met the woman that came and picked up the eggs, and so forth. I decided I was in the mood for eggs and was going to eat a couple that were freshly laid for lunch. As I was getting my lunch ready, I saw a car waiting at the gate and honking. I looked out. Now, I've already been warned by the husband and wife to not talk to anyone that comes to the gate unless I'm expecting them, they told me they don't have any friends or people that come to see them (a bit of an exaggeration to get the point across of course). I've also been warned about travellers and tinkers, unsettled and displaced Irish that go from place to place and swindle you, take everything they can, even the tiles off your roof, drink a lot, get into bar fights, and their mode of speaking is shouting (I think I ran into one of them while I was walking a couple of summers ago--a very strange man that shouted at me asking for the time). But they kept honking, so I went down to see who it was. It was the man again and one of his sons, asking if I wanted to go into town to get groceries. I said thanks but I was just making lunch. Well, an hour later, I was reading outside, and saw the same car sitting by the gate. I went over and found that it was the same younger of the two sons. He asked if I wanted to go into town now and go to the shops. I found this to be very kind and comforting to know that these neighbors were looking after me, but at the same time wondered if this was going to be a daily occurence. So we went into town and I asked him about the busy road, if it is safe and all that. I keep getting assured that it is safe and plan to use it to get around. I picked up a couple of things at the store, he waited, got petrol, and took me back. It was nice to see people out and about.

Then later that night the woman of the family, while I was watching the news, again in my yukata, started knocking on the glass door. She'd been out walking the family dog and wanted to see if I was okay, if it was hard living out in the countryside, if the hens were getting on alright. Very sweet, very kind. But once again, there I was in my yukata, getting awkward looks--well, perhaps I'm just imagining the awkward looks. I'm sure they are stopping by to also see how everything is going at the house--she was eyeing the kitchen, perhaps to see if I was keeping it tidy. Before she left she invited me to their family lunch on Sunday.

Yesterday I had no visitors, but did get out for a walk in the Burren. The terrain was extremely worn down grey rocks divided up into these tiny canyons. You definitely have to watch your step or you could easily twist your ankle. The tricky part was not stepping into the crevices covered up by plants, grass or shrubs. I managed to spend a couple of hours wandering around pretty much unused Burren farmland, which was divided up by stone walls, until I ran into some cows that were grazing. I get rather nervous around large animals that are just free to trample me if they want and with absolutely no one else around I decided I needed to leave that section as quickly as possible and climbed over the nearest wall (very low wall).

Perhaps I'm going on and on in detail and boring you three readers out there. I guess this is what happens when you don't have anyone around to talk to except animals. I really haven't minded the solitude and don't feel that isolated. I guess knowing that it's only for 2 weeks makes it alright. If it was 2 years I probably have to change some things. Anyway, I've really been enjoying the experience and by not having constant distractions and comforts of city life has made me continue to simplify my perspective. I wouldn't mind some hot summer weather, however. It is rather dreary and cold today (thank you global warming) and I'm debating having a fire in the fireplace.