" Rats "

Someone asked me, the other night, how my little mongrel 'Terrier' thing, Rats, was doing. As I assured him; She's doing fine. Here's a shot I took twenty minutes ago, just to prove it. Not much of a shot, I know. But, it's blowing wet out there, again. A most wretched and miserable day. Sort that would be seen as a harbinger of Summers end and the start of the Barren Time. Only, Summer's never began here. We've just had this since I can remember.

So, right now, Rats is on my bed, licking. Along with Orange Dog, who's doing the same. le Ding's stretched out behind this chair. Chain Dog's in her cage, fast asleep. The horses, for the record, are in the back of the cow shed, stealing hay. Magpies are in their trap ~ not comprehending what I have in store for them. Oh, don't worry; It's good. Very good.

And I'm sat here. Just checked the post. No shotgun license. No nothing, in fact. Just pissing, horrible weather and me wondering what do do with myself for the rest of the afternoon. Tell ye all a little more about Rats, I s'pose. That seems to be pretty much what I came here for.

I got Rats off a guy on THL. Smashing bloke. Turned up outside my local ~ the usual place for me meeting up with people. It simply saves the drama of them trying to find me here ~ wearing a Flek Tarn T Shirt! So, that won me over to start with! LOL!

Name was Eammon. Only, there's two Eammon's on THL. Both using handles that sound the same in ye head. I can never remember which of them this guy was. Maybe he was " EMac " and the other guy is " EammonMac "? Something like that. One of them brought my Terrier Box down for me. This one brought my Terrier.

Rats isn't actually a 'real' terrier, as it happens. Her dam was got at by a Lab or Springer, or something like that? But, as ye can see, she'd pass for a 'Lakeland / Fell' type in most peoples eyes. Eammon arranged for me to buy her off the guy who'd 'bred' her, after I'd asked for a " Useless " Dog. That is; I wanted a terrier which wouldn't lead to me digging fucking great holes to get the damn thing out of the ground. I don't Do that, as anyone who half knows me would know.

And Rats has fitted that bill admirably. I've never yet known her to show any particular interest in vanishing down any of the many badger setts round here. Even the drains don't hold much interest for her. She just likes to rush about, sniffing and dashing. all above ground though. Perfect. Thanks again, Eammon.

Is she any good? Hell, I don't know! She's simply never really had the chance to show me! Truth to tell; There's damn all around here for her to get at. And that's the truth. Since The Idiot gave up keeping his Concentration Camp of chickens, up there, there's been no rats around my ground.

The few stragglers that did turn up, I swiftly dealt with myself. Thus about the only rat Rats has ever met has been a dead one she's sniffed out. Still handy though. I don't want dead rats about the place and, if I miss one, Rats finds it for me. So she has a value.

Another of her jobs is to keep an eye on things at night. She lives outside, in her own little house - of which she's immensely and justifiably proud. It's the finest little house any Dog in Co. Leitrim has. Made it myself, with much love, care and attention to detail. Lot of people admire Rats' little house.

So, there she lives. In her little house. On her long, light chain. About as happy as a Dog can get, truth to tell. In fact, I've simply never seen Rats looking anything But full of the joys of spring. Even in this, depressing, bone chilling weather.

She'll be out there again, presently. Probably about as soon as she ~ inevitably ~ shits or pisses on my kitchen floor again. Rats is a Dog who simply Will Not be House Trained. Born outside. Lived outside. Learned concrete was a latrine. I have conrete floors. Thus she'll actually come inside to shit and piss.

And that about wraps it up for Rats, for now. Just thought I'd let ye know she's fine and happy here. And I'm happy I've got her. Most amusing little Dog.

All Cammo'd Up!

Happy again, now. Just thought what I'd been up to 'today' (during the course of Saturday daytime) and remembered I've took a shot of one of my new Flektarn shirts.

Flektarn. I love this shit! It's the German stuff, and it's about as different from ye bog standard (and now very standardised) NATO DPM as it gets. Even the Irish Army gets to wander about in the sort of thing your lot wear. The ubiquitous, broad brush strokes, green, beige and black stuff. Standard issue.

Now, I'm sure that stuff's ok in a Europen hedgerow? One lot of guys, in one hedge, trying to spot another bunch of guys in another hedge, some way off? Fuck it. Just 'Hose' the hedge, I guess? But that's army stuff.

I don't actually lurk in many hedges. I have to sneak out of hedges and cross up to hundereds of yards of good old, traditional, Leitrim " Rough Upland Pasture ". What you ~ and I! ~ would probably call " Bog ". (Ye certainly would, if ye ever tried laying down in it!)

Here's some:


See how the browns predominate? This is why I don't really prefer the usual stuff myself. And as for Real Tree? My god! It makes me laugh, first day of the season, to see all the local lads standing around in the pub. All decked out in their finest livid greens and gray branches! Again, I'm sure that stuff's the Dogs, if ye standing about in some deciduous wood somewhere? Only, there's precious little deciduous woods round here.

So I chose this:



I really like this stuff. And I've looked at every cammo available out there too. In my view, nothing quite matches Juncus rush like the old, German Flektarn. Especially when ye consider much of what concerns me is avian. I truly feel this pattern is best for what Juncus must look like from above.

I got my kit, today. Dean O' and I drove right up to Ballyconnall (I think that's about how it's spelled. I never even noticed the road signs and Dean isn't so strong on spelling. North side of Balinamore anyway. Near the border) There's a shop there called The Trading Post. And this is one place people like us should have on our itinary, if ever in the area.

It's largely Army Surplus. But, as is usual with such business's, they stock allied sorts of ranges. Clothing, that is. Only it's definetely fine tuned toward the sort of person who comes into Army Surplus stores in the first place. Cool shop.

Lovely young lady in there too. Very helpful and happy to be so. Without her help I wouldn't have discovered half the shop, let alone the stuff I pulled out of the walls of box shelves! It's directly thanks to her that I discovered what'll probably become one of my best loved jackets. Dean O' bought one two. Great jackets! Flektarn, naturally!

I also found just the bag I've been looking for. Genuine, army issue. Maybe Irish Army? I've certainly never seen one before. But it's just what I wanted, to carry my bits and pieces in when I go out. And somewhere to discretely put anything remove from the land. I think I'll call it my 'Cat Bag'.

But, then came the totting up of all the stuff I'd freely piled onto the counter. Two pairs of strides. Two shirts. A jacket. A Bod' Warmer. My bag. A belt and a cammo scrim. No matter. I had £200 in my pocket and there was a hole in the wall right over the road.

That's when I personally experienced the almost embaressing genorosity of this place, which Dead O' had actually mentioned on the run out there; " Well, " she grinned, " I'm giving ye the scrim, the belt and that bag, so well suited to dead cat conveyance ..... " (?!) " So, the shirts, trousers, body warmer and jacket ....? £170. Oh, and here's a pair of excellent socks each! "

I Defy Ye to beat that! Good god, only a few weeks ago I wanted to buy One jacket, pair of strides and a bod' warmer, in some gun shop? That came to £270! And he didn't take plastic?! And the nearest bank was twenty miles away! I walked out of there, empty handed. His loss. But, as I said to the taxi driver who'd ferried me all the way out there (" Trapper Johns ", this was); " There's always a Reason for things. I'll find my new kit yet. "

I found it. At The Trading Post. Ballyconnall. I suspect it Might be up and over in Co. Cavan? Just north of Ballinamore, anyway. Check it out, if ye ever in the area. Highly Recommended.