In a quiet farmyard in Fairymount, Co Roscommon, sits a Massey Ferguson 135 that has faithfully served one man for almost half a century.
Just weeks before his 86th birthday, Michael Corcoran still climbs into the driver’s seat whenever there is work to be done. The tractor, bought brand new in 1978, is still at work, just as its owner is.
“I hope I never retire,” Michael says with a smile. Those five words tell you almost everything you need to know about him.
The farm is quieter these days. There are only a few cattle grazing the fields, but Michael still enjoys the daily routine that has shaped his entire life. Whether it is checking stock, bringing home turf or doing small jobs around the yard, the Massey Ferguson is never far away.
Inside the house, Michael reaches into a cupboard and proudly produces something that has survived as long as the tractor itself – the original operator’s manual. Carefully preserved for almost 50 years, it is every bit as treasured as the tractor itself. For Michael, it is more than a tractor. It has been part of his life for nearly half a century.
Fairymount, known locally as the “Hill of the Fairy Folk”, is where Michael has lived all his life.
Although I arrived unannounced, I couldn’t have received a warmer welcome. Michael greeted me with a broad smile, invited me into the kitchen and, before long, the kettle was on. Over a cup of tea, he began to tell the story of a life spent farming.
Michael was one of six children – five boys and one girl. Their family farm stretched to just 11 acres, so everyone worked hard from an early age. School wasn’t really for him.
“If there was a fair nearby, that’s where I’d be,” he laughs.
Alongside the farm, the family owned a limestone quarry that became an important source of income.
“The quarry reared us,” Michael says. Roscommon County Council regularly took stone from the quarry to build local roads, while Michael operated machinery and worked alongside local men who earned their living there. He remembers the workers calling to the house, where his mother always had the kettle on and a warm welcome waiting. Life was different then.
Families grew much of their own food, saved their own turf and depended on neighbours when help was needed. A travelling shop arrived twice a week bringing groceries and household essentials, while neighbours always found time for a chat over the gate.
Looking back over more than seven decades, Michael has watched farming change beyond recognition.
“Everything is robots now,” he says. “Farmers haven’t a lot to do now. It’s far easier than it used to be. Jobs that took weeks are done in a day.” After a short pause, he quietly adds, “life was simpler then.”
He remembers cutting turf with a slane, mowing hay with a scythe and building haycocks by hand. When the Massey Ferguson 135 arrived in 1978, it transformed many of those jobs.
It made the work easier, but it never replaced the long days or the satisfaction that came from working the land.
Nearly five decades later, Michael still wouldn’t swap it. Life wasn’t all work, however. He smiles as he remembers travelling to dances in Castlerea, the Bella Hall and the famous Ballroom of Romance in Ballintubber.
“We’d be coming home as the birds were singing,” he laughs. Not long afterwards, his mother would have him out of bed again for another day’s work.
Parcels
He also remembers parcels arriving from America filled with brightly coloured shirts and flared trousers.
“They certainly didn’t suit Fairymount,” he jokes.
Michael has never been interested in travelling.
“I never liked going anywhere. Home is where I always wanted to be.” With his usual humour, he says the closest thing he ever had to a holiday was while receiving treatment for cancer in St Luke’s Hospital.
Faith and family have always been at the centre of his life. He speaks proudly of his brother, Fr. Seamus Corcoran TOR, who spent 54 years serving as a Franciscan missionary priest in Paraguay.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, Michael watched his brother’s funeral online from home, with the help of a neighbour. Today, a memorial plaque in Fairymount Church honours his brother’s life.
As we talked, it became clear that Michael is happiest with simple things. The old range still heats the kitchen. Family photographs line the walls.
A picture of Jesus and Mary hangs proudly in the kitchen bearing the words ‘Bless Our Home’.
“That’s been there since I was a little boy,” he says.
One of my favourite moments came while Michael made tea on the range. Beside the fire sat a contented cat that has been with him since it was a kitten.
When I asked its name, Michael smiled.
“I never gave him one.” Somehow, that answer seemed perfectly in keeping with the quiet simplicity of Michael.
Michael considers himself fortunate to have a wonderful carer who helps him, while neighbours regularly call to see how he is keeping.
The strong community spirit he remembers from his younger days is still alive in Fairymount.
When it was time to leave, Michael walked with me down the boreen and waited until I had safely turned onto the main road before giving one final wave. Before saying goodbye, I asked him what he believed was the secret to living such a long and healthy life. Without hesitation, he smiled: “Hard work and the single life.”
Story of rural Ireland
Driving away from Fairymount, I realised I hadn’t simply spent an afternoon with a farmer.
I had met a man whose life reflects the story of rural Ireland over the past seven decades. He has witnessed farming change beyond recognition, yet his love of the land has never faded.
Michael’s story is one of quiet determination, resilience and contentment. It is a reminder of a generation who worked from dawn to dusk, relied on neighbours, valued family and faith, and never expected life to be easy.
Long after the photographs are printed, it won’t just be the Massey Ferguson 135, the old range, the quarry or the stories that I will remember.
It will be Michael Corcoran’s warmth, humility, quiet humour and his enduring love of the land.
As I continued my journey home, I couldn’t help but think of Michael’s simple words: “I hope I never retire.” Somehow, I think he means exactly that.