While some of our House Martins arrived before the second week of April, the swallows were a little later this year but quite a number are now swooping and diving around the yard in tandem with their twittering call. Most of us Irish folk are proud to lay claim to our homeland, yet I wonder which country these birds would call their own if asked? The hot arid climates abroad, or the warm and damp countries they are born in and return to each year to begin the cycle over again? Perhaps they have the best of both worlds in comparison to us, fluttering off to a warm holiday after they fulfil their duty of providing a new generation for another year. Though if I had to travel to my holiday destination by my own means, I don’t think I’d quite manage the 9,000km-odd journey they undertake. Especially if I arrived to find I’d have a new home to build by hand before settling in as it’s likely a few are lamenting sheds and buildings torn down in the January storm.

In this area, the cuckoo has traditionally returned mid-April and with impeccable timing they flew in just before the weather turned on the 18 April, a fitting escort for the ‘cuckoo storm’ which in folklore is a return to cold, wet and miserable weather after their arrival. In some areas it’s said to last up to a month but around here we speak of it passing after three days.

Snow was even witnessed in some of the southern counties, but thankfully we just had rain, albeit three full days of it which brought our land right back to ‘traverse with care’ levels.

This does mean that our slurry will have to stay in the tank for another while, though we weren’t under pressure to get it out, having wintered less stock than usual. This looks likely to be used on meadows we’ve selected for two cuts this year, along with some of the fields we’d normally only apply fertiliser on.

Despite the rain, or perhaps due to it, grass has started to flourish, though we’d still not have enough grazing in play to turn out all the cattle just yet. Just before the weather changed, our larger group of outdoor stock were moved to fresh pasture which had better shelter and in the wetter days were brought hay to keep them content. Once they learned what was arriving when they saw a stuffed rolled oats bag, a rush similar to that for All-Ireland final tickets would commence. Not that Leitrim has much experience of that, but we live in hope (it’s likely the cattle had similar optimistic thoughts).

The grazed areas were then cleaned off and rolled with the intention of spreading fertiliser. With our farm being situated in a lake catchment area, the farming forecast each Sunday plays an important part in the planning of any slurry and fertiliser spreading, so the decision was made to defer it until a later date. This year the lake in question is flourishing with wildlife, and for the first time in many years I’ve spotted a duck with eight perky ducklings in tow. With pike up to a metre long residing in this lake, it’s a dangerous place to be a duckling but for now the duck seems sensible enough to stay close to the shore and out of reach.

Any dairy farm would be chuffed to get the number of heifer calves which we’re experiencing at the moment, with another golden lady joining the troop over the Easter weekend.

Again, I was expecting a bull calf with the cow carrying quite far over her time, yet I was proven wrong once again. These days however, the quality of the calf is more important than the sex and anytime one finds a calf up and sucking with no hand laid on the cow is a good day, or night in this case.