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I thought that the snow would never come. The build-up and the shutdown of the country had the most extraordinary effect on us. The red alert was extended country wide on Wednesday night before we got to our beds.
All schools were mandated to close. We weren’t sure if it was accurate or just hype. I think part of the reason that I was apprehensive was the vivid memories from the comparable blizzards in 1982.
We had only been married for six months. I have a clear memory of wading through the snow to the yard to see if Tim was ready to come for his supper. After all, that’s what a young bride does.
Tim and his late father, Denis, were more than frustrated trying to thaw pipes to get water for cows and milking. No sooner would a piece of pipe be thawed, when it would freeze right back again.
It was day four and nerves were fraught and the men were tired. Food was not a priority. The ritual of dismantling, thawing and putting back together went on for a week, accompanied by deep snow falls. It was a wretched time for farmers.
WATER TROUBLE
There was a déjà vu of sorts on Thursday as I was feeding the calves. Tim and Colm were rerouting water supplies to the dairy to make sure that water would stay flowing. Things were considerably calmer and I suspect that was due to having the things they needed to hand because of the specific weather warnings.
Tim put an infrared lamp in the corner of the dairy to keep the hot water pipes flowing. Colm and Philip had already installed infrared lamps under shelters in all the calf pens over the last few weeks. The calves huddled together underneath them.
The timing of the event was not good in terms of cows, calves and baby lambs. We were warned to be indoors from 4pm on Thursday evening until 4pm on Friday. That included two milkings and two calf feeding times, which was just not feasible on most farms. But that is our way of life so we got on with it.
Calves continued to arrive. Nature does not wait for weather events. It is a critical time for dairy farms and milk production. The importance of consistent, good-quality feeding is hugely significant to maximise milk quality. We have had our cows out day and night since the first few days of February.
Apparently some people find this annoying, incredulous or whatever. But it is what happens on our farm. We may well be burning up in July when others have swards of grass. Nevertheless, grass-based production is our game and the more grass we can feed and the less concentrate we use, the better our profit at the end of the year.
It’s not just a matter of turning out the cows. At the moment we’re grazing on/off. The cows go out for a period of grazing and return to the shed or the roadway to stand off. They’re given 12-hour allocations to protect the grass.
Paddocks are back-fenced to keep cows from damaging the grazed area. There is a lot of work involved. Still, we realise that we are fortunate to be able to graze at this time of year. Obviously, this unprecedented cold snap will have resulted in zero grass growth for almost a week.
On Thursday we knew by the forecast that cows would not be able to go to grass due to the level of snow on the ground. Again, the lead in gave the men time to put a plan in place. We had used a sacrifice paddock for some of the late calvers. That paddock was pressed into service again to allow the cows to go out as they pleased and return to the shed for silage.
Of course the risk is that the protein content of the milk will have been depressed while the cows were on silage for three days. It beggared belief seeing cows go out onto the snow-covered paddock and begin to graze.
They rummaged away in the snow, uncovering the grass with their noses. I was out taking pictures for proof. Obviously they wouldn’t get near enough grass to produce milk, so that had to come from silage and ration. As the days wore on, the snow got deeper, the cows got crankier and louder, and we got tired.
ISOLATION
We were snowbound and in our own little world. We had each other. It took all day to do the jobs of tending and feeding the herd. Everything was slow and difficult. Fingers were numb and toes were cold. By Friday evening the countryside was magnificent in its blanket of white. Our wellies crunched loudly on the snow.
Still, it was nearly over and we looked forward to the thaw. We checked in with friends and relations around the country and there was comfort in weathering the storm together. Social media proved a constant companion.
Our two dogs that normally sleep in the garage were delighted with the invitation to sleep indoors. The cat was also allowed to take refuge.
On Saturday morning, I took loads of photographs thinking that the snow would be gone quickly. I was wrong.
Evelyn Cusack and her colleagues at Met Éireann were definitely vindicated. The preparation and information was top class. The prompt reaction by our Government and public services personnel was admirable. I’ve no doubt that the national response saved lives. Well done to all those involved. CL
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