I took a bit of a multi-purpose walk around the farm at the weekend. I wanted to check grass covers, ground conditions and if there were any fence issues to sort out.

On the home block covers are a little behind where they normally are, but this is of little concern due to the calving date moving back to late February and March. Because of this we grazed a bit later and, if ground dries up, there is a good proportion of ground slurry ready. Springs have appeared in the last few weeks that were last seen during the wet summer of 2012.

Covers are bang on target where the youngstock are and it will have to be grazed before slurry can go out on most paddocks there. It’s just a case of waiting for the precipitation to stop.

While out walking I was reminded of Gerald Potterton’s recent descriptive tour of his farm and the field names. They provide a similar story of the farm and surrounding area here too.

A handful of paddocks could be classed as a mini census of the area, with the surname of whoever lives closest to the field dictating its name, like Burkes, Fitzs, Hurleys, Wheltons.

The farm where I live was purchased by my great-great-grandfather in the 1870s. Prior to this it was the farm of Dunowen House, built by Captain Sandes and home to the Hungerfords for much of its existence.

In the early 1970s, the bass player from the Jimi Hendrix experience sought to escape the rock and roll lifestyle and ended up buying Dunowen House. He lived there until his death in 2003.

We know the field beside the house as Redding’s and I’d say it could tell a tale or two.

My grandmother used to tell the story of when Captain Sande’s favorite horse died, he had it buried upright in the wide ditch between the small garden and Briens’.

Judging by the old ordnance survey maps, Briens’ was the main garden for the big house. It is easy to work out what the small garden field refers to.

Some of the names have changed with the passing of generations. The old Irish names such as Tobar na Feochadán (well of thistles), Páirc na Faoileáin (field of the seagulls) and the Lacha are part of memory now.

The field Granda called the barrack gate, is now Feens, the old RIC barracks long since converted to a dwelling house. Inside that is the middle field and, further in, the hill field.

A long, narrow paddock with a few awkward contours that make it the least pleasant place to drive a tractor.

There are a few paddocks named with little imagination.

The two, three and six-acre fields fall into that category. Much of the farm is subdivided now, so many of the paddocks have gained a prefix of upper, lower, near and far.

Other names seem designed to confuse.

Below the yard, out from the yard, above the shed, out from the stall, the house. They take a small bit of explaining to any new employee the contractor has, but there are enough landmarks about for them to get by.

It’s easy to see how the names evolved, indeed, sometimes the same place could be called multiple names, depending on who you are talking to. If a two-man crew arrives to cut silage, they might each have a different name on a field and I could call it another.

To me there is something lovely and haphazard about field names and that’s no harm in today’s bland world.