We live in the north of Co Sligo, less than 20 miles from the Border, and run a family owned dairy farm. As with many farmers countrywide, we have had our share of difficulties, frustrations and setbacks. For the past fortnight, our world has come to a standstill as reports of the foot-and-mouth disease have been confirmed in England, and then in Armagh.
Even though the daily rounds have continued - milking, feeding, counting and checking - the silence has been deafening. My father-in-law was a young man when foot-and-mouth disease came here in 1941. One would have assumed he would have lots of stories to tell. Instead, he has carried on with his work and said little.
The disease is "virulent, but not that robust", we have heard. It could, possibly, be halted by "draconian measures". Or it could be carried on the wind. Up to Wednesday this week, the wind was westerly. That night, it changed direction.
Now we wake and cross our fingers as we turn on the radio, dreading the headlines and yet puzzled there has been no "bad news" so far. Until a fortnight ago, there was the usual list of things lined up to distract, frustrate and delay the running of the farm: BSE scares, paperwork, cheap beef from Germany, inspection after inspection, the milking parlour, the herd, animals going to the abattoir, sick calves, complications of birth in sheep, increased costs of fertilisers and feed, more paperwork, tractors sinking in swamp-like conditions, rain and more rain. And the famous "cheque in the post" , which was only £25 this month.
Somewhere in all this there had to be time for family and friends, and having a laugh, but then foot-and-mouth disease jumped the queue. Many people were so taken aback by its implications they didn't know how to respond. I felt embarrassed going out with my mat, my watering can and my sign at the gate. I was told obliquely by some passers-by that what I was doing was a waste of time, as the disease was going to hit us anyway.
But as days passed, more mats appeared at gates, signs arrived in the post and I am now very proud of my mat. It may seem a feeble attempt to an outsider, but for those who live and work here, it is a significant gesture. This farm is a business, with cattle and sheep reared for meat and a dairy herd kept for milk, but I have seen tears in the eyes of grown men at the thought of a cull.
When confirmation came from south Armagh, nervous looks were exchanged and mental maps drawn as we tried to figure out how far it was from here. What had been a vague, faraway possibility was now frighteningly close. The night before the ban on importation from the North, on February 21st, there was feverish truck traffic on the road.
We all know if the herd goes, we are gone too - financially and emotionally - and it will be a long time before any work is done about the place again.
The mood changed, however, in the neighbourhood when the Irish rugby squad postponed its game. "Famous people" were treating this seriously. The crisis is now a bit like Live Aid, with lots of celebrities doing things about it (bar our own Sligo boy band, Westlife) and sweeping people along. There have been some heartening gestures. Barney, the lollipop man at my daughter Amy's school, placed two disinfectant mats at either side of his road crossing. My heart melted. Barney was under no obligation to do this, but he did anyway, and it was great.
In the meantime, we wait another night and wonder when we will be able to exhale . . ."
Annie West is a mother of three and is farming in Cashelgarron, Co Sligo.
