Ireland and England with Jerry and Josh–Land of Animals Part Two


Our next stop on the Ring of Kerry was Sneem, an Irish village whose only claim to fame was that the world wrestling champion from 1942 to 1947 was a local boy, so they put a statue of him up on the town square. To put this in perspective, I was born in 1947 so the town of Sneem has been in a dry spell for a long time. The most interesting thing on the town square was on the other side where this man with a long gray beard had his pet mountain goat lounging around, and, of course, his cap was on the ground available to receive tips. He told me he had found his buddy abandoned in the mountains a few years ago, and had trained him to let anybody pet him. I thought this was wonderful. I hadn’t got close enough to pet the baby lambs by the statue of Mary but I got to pet the goat that was kinda close to the statue of the wrestler. I told my son Josh to pull out his camera.
“Yeah,” the Irish gentleman piped up, “get a picture of three old goats.”
I was still laughing as the picture was taken. Also, I decided this was a good way to supplement your retirement fund. Find some adorable animal, set up where a lot of tourists pass by and put your hat on the group for tips. The trick in this is that once you break a five-euro note, you get your change in one-euro coins and the smaller stuff. Most Americans think that all coins represent less than a euro, so when you are tossing what you think is the equivalent of 25 or 50 cents you’re actually tossing away two or three dollars. As a storyteller who puts his hat on the ground, I can tell you that makes a big difference.

Further down the road we pulled into a sheep dog training farm. As soon as we climbed out of the tour bus, a border collie came around the corner of the front gate, looked at us and went back inside to get reinforcements. Before we knew it a team of border collies were racing out to make sure we knew where we were going. First they herded us into a barn where the students, once again, got to hold baby lambs. Of course, I didn’t. But at least I got my goat. Next, the dogs herded us out to a reviewing standing over a craggy valley. Once they were sure we were all in place, the border collies retreated and let the humans—who thought they were in charge of the place—take over. The humans opened a gate and a flock of sheep went willy nilly down the hillside and around a gathering of rocks. Next they released a three-year-old border collie for his daily training of finding the sheep, herding them back up the hill and into a stockade. Actually, it didn’t quite go that way. Another collie, named Lucy and about thirteen years old, came out to watch the youngin’ do his job from the top of the hill. By the time he finally got them close to the stockade, Lucy took over and got them through the gate. I don’t think she had the energy to go all the way out to round them up. In the picture Lucy had already taken over. I really liked Lucy. She wasn’t going to be retired that easily. In fact, I think I loved Lucy.

As I had previously said, the Ring of Kerry was the land of animals, even the really expensive kind. On our last encounter with animals on the ring, we stopped at the National Stud Farm, where the best horses in the world meet for romance (well, maybe not romance but I’m trying to be nice here). More thoroughbreds are mated—or as the professionals say, covered—here than anywhere else except maybe Kentucky. The stables for the studs look like a four-star hotel. We peered at one in particular who was considered a star. It seems he didn’t win very many races in his prime but he has sired many horses who have won big time. As the farm guide explained all this to us, I happened to notice a very well dressed couple being given a private tour. I think they were being courted to bring their filly there for a nice honeymoon. A few moments later a handsome stud was led from his stall and around the corner for an encounter. Frankly I felt like a reporter for the National Enquirer for watching this event. Have we no shame? Can’t guy and gal horses get together without everyone watching? We walked over to a quadrangle of stalls where expectant mares were kept comfortable until their time to foal. As we went by we saw one filly, who looked like she was about to pop, being led onto a trailer to take her to the delivery barn. I didn’t think she appreciated having an audience either.

An odd feature to the farm was an extensive Japanese garden. The original owner of the farm—who believed in checking the astrological charts of the horses before breeding began—brought a professional garden designer from Japan in about 1920. When asked why, the man said, “Why not? I’m rich. I can afford it. I like Japanese gardens.” (Actually, those aren’t his exact words, but you get the idea.) With all due respect, I think his garden was more than something pretty to look at the end of the day. I think he was trying to impress the rich people so that they would pay the “cover charges”—so to speak. I think he was telling them that everything on his stud farm was first class and expensive, and that included the gardens.

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