In my early twenties I developed a compositional structure which I consider to be a visual equivalent to a musical fugue. As a structure it is modular and capable, theoretically at least, of infinite extension. The temptation was then (and still is) to see how long I could make it. What I discovered in doing so was that anything more than a 3:1 ratio (length to height) is too much for the human gaze to take in at once. My largest fugue painting – conceived in egg tempera as an abstract icon – is 4 x 1.5 metres (length by height), which sits well upon the eye. As a corollary to this I have also created fugue sequences in print, and produced them as concertina books. The longest of these is 200 x 11 cm; in ratio terms this equals 18:1, length by height. It is not meant to be seen all at once, though it can be, and such is the case of the great friezes–essentially story boards – conceived throughout history, variously in marble, mosaic, textile and fresco.

One of these, the Bayeux Tapestry, is now on show in the British Museum, and measures 7000 x 50 cm (70 m x 0.5 m), a ratio of 140:1. It is an extraordinary feat of embroidery, of storytelling through coloured woollen yarn. Despite its name it is not a woven tapestry at all, but nine, joined, embroidered lengths of linen, depicting the Norman conquest of England, itself culminating in the Battle of Hastings in 1066.

Most likely commissioned by Bishop Odo of Bayeux for his half-brother, William the Conqueror, the work is thought to have been undertaken in Canterbury, England, in the 1070s by women needleworkers, who were famed throughout Europe, their fine needlework known as ‘Opus Anglicanum’ (English work).

Embroidered in eight or more colours, with a dominant indigo and red ochre palette, the tapestry reflects the dominant dyes in use at the time of its creation: madder for the reds, weld for the yellows and woad for the blues. In addition, un-dyed wools were used for whites and tans, whilst for dark browns and blacks organic materials like oak galls (ball-like growths on oak trees) would have been utilised (just as for oak gall ink).

One can imagine those fine craftswomen at work, embroidering the Norman ships en route to England on a wavy linen sea, or again, stitching into being the Norman knights on horseback, spears raised, cutting through the stitched Anglo Saxon resistance. Such fine, delicate work, employed to record the brutal violence of male conquest! One can imagine the silence of the workshop, a senior needleworker squinting in the light, being ribbed by another; or a visit, perhaps, from the Archbishop of Canterbury, or the abbot of St Augustine’s Abbey, both postulated as possible composers of the work. A smile as the abbot looks down, the hands of a young needleworker momentarily stilled by his gaze. He moves on and her hands resume stitching an outline, perhaps of a horse, using wool dyed in madder. She is employing stem stitch (or back stitch), whilst beside her an older needleworker (let’s call her Gisela) is couching–laying thread side by side–before securing the thread with a fine perpendicular stitch; this to fill the form of a horse in grey-blue. Underneath the finely stitched hooves, Gisela has embroidered a slain soldier, his head separated from his body.

There is a slim register above the horse’s heads, where the younger craftswoman (let’s call her Marian) has outlined a bird, also in madder-dyed wool. This register is populated by many symbolic animals in a style reminiscent of Anglo-Saxon book illumination, which anyone familiar with the Book of Kells will recognise. Perhaps our Marian knew similar illuminated manuscripts? Certainly the composer of the tapestry did (the abbot of St. Augustine’s at the time had previously headed a scriptorium).

How long did it take these craftswomen to fulfil this commission from their conquerors? It is impossible to say, however seventy metres and fifty-eight scenes later the embroidered tapestry left their careful hands to travel over the channel, presumably to Bayeux Cathedral in Normandy, where it is first recorded in an inventory of 1476. Scholars have since suggested that it was made to fit the south, west and north arcades of the nave, which, if true, would make some sense. In such a setting the faithful could follow the story of the conquest around the church, much as they would follow the story of Christ through the Stations of the Cross.

Great friezes – storyboards in essence – have been, since ancient times, one of the primary means of myth-building, of forging and controlling the narrative of nations, kingdoms, empires. The compositions of such, unless compartmentalised into ‘stories’ (such as with Giotto’s fresco cycle in the Basilica of St. Francis) are often subordinate to the flow of the narrative. It is impossible to take in such an image at a glance. Instead one follows it, walks a symbolic pilgrimage from scene to scene. Such is the case with this marvel from Bayeux.

I am thinking once more about my fugues, those infernal, ghostlike repetitions which rise and fall in my consciousness. Perhaps it is time to return to them, perhaps a four metre concertina book, doubling my previous effort? Or a cycle of paintings, which flow unbroken on the walls, around a room, a secular chapel of colour? I can feel it, a continuous exposition, like a Gregorian chant, seductive in its soft and unifying rhythm. The Bayeux Tapestry, by contrast, is jagged and graphic, a portrayal of carnage. Its figures disturb the silence, haunt the centuries, and will for as long as its fibres last.

James will be giving a seminar on the work of the contemporary Italian painter, Roberto Ferri, on Thursday, August 6, 7:30-8:30pm. Limited spaces. Bookings via: www.clonarts.ie

by Galyna Zaitseva

When I first met Saeeda, I was struck by her quiet presence. She speaks softly, listens carefully and has no natural desire to be the centre of attention. At first, she seems shy and reserved. Yet the more time you spend with her, the more clearly you begin to notice the strength beneath that gentleness. I saw the same quiet strength in her studio.

I had imagined a busy creative space filled with fabrics, threads, patterns and unfinished ideas. Instead, everything was carefully organised in containers, with every object in its place. Only the sewing machine and a painting still in progress revealed that this was an artist’s workspace.

Then Saeeda began opening the containers.

One by one, she brought out dresses, blouses, jewellery and embroidered fabrics. She showed me the details she had made by hand and explained the techniques behind them. With each new piece, another part of her creative world appeared.

I had come to select outfits for the photoshoot, but very quickly I stopped choosing and simply began admiring her work. Every garment felt different. Some pieces were delicate and understated, while others were full of colour, embroidery and painted detail. Choosing only three looks was far more difficult than I had expected. I wanted to show everything.

For Saeeda, fashion has always been closely connected to art.

“As an artist, I have always dreamed of seeing people wear my art,” she says. “I love working with my hands, exploring crafts, textures and traditional techniques. Fashion has given me a beautiful way to turn my creativity into something people can wear and enjoy in their everyday lives.”

Saeeda has lived in Clonakilty since June 2024, having come directly to West Cork from Pakistan with her four children. Arriving in Ireland meant leaving behind her home, familiar surroundings and the life she had built.

At a time when almost everything around her was already changing, she also faced breast cancer, surgery and treatment.

“My battle with breast cancer came at a time when my whole life had already changed,” she says. “Facing cancer, surgery and treatment in a new country, largely on my own, was one of the biggest challenges of my life.”

She speaks about this period openly, but without allowing it to become the only story she tells about herself. During our conversation, her thoughts continually returned to the future: to fabrics she would like to try, techniques she wants to explore and ideas she hopes to develop.

“I have never believed in giving up,” she says. “I try not to spend too much time mourning what I have lost or what has been left behind. Instead, I think about what I can create, improve and build next.”

That way of thinking seems to shape both her life and her work.

Today, Saeeda creates clothing under the name S.fusion. The brand reflects her desire to bring different ideas, cultures, artistic traditions and styles together, while keeping comfort and individuality at the heart of every design.

“It is about creating a fusion while keeping comfort and individuality at the centre of everything I do,” she explains.

She currently works mainly with 100 per cent cotton and traditional hand block-printing techniques. Her next step is to explore eco-printing on cotton, and she hopes to work more with organic materials and handwoven textiles in the future.

For Saeeda, the way clothing feels is just as important as the way it looks.

“My purpose is not only to create beautiful and stylish clothing,” she says. “I want to think about people’s comfort and wellbeing too. Clothes can be artistic and stylish while still being breathable, comfortable and kind to the skin.”

What she loves most is beginning with a simple piece of fabric and gradually giving it a character of its own.

“For me, fashion is another form of art. I love taking a simple piece of fabric and giving it its own story. My dream is to let people wear that art.”

Saeeda does not believe personal style should be shaped by every passing trend. For her, clothing is a way of expressing personality, confidence and even mood.

She is especially passionate about reminding women that style does not disappear with age. Bodies change and the clothes that once felt right may no longer suit who we have become. Saeeda sees this not as a reason to withdraw from fashion, but as an opportunity to discover something new.

“Never believe that beauty or style has an age limit. We should never stop expressing ourselves or taking care of how we feel.”

Her advice is to look beyond perfection and pay attention to the way clothes make us feel.

Experimentation is an important part of Saeeda’s own work. She enjoys bringing traditional techniques into modern, uncomplicated silhouettes and exploring unfamiliar combinations of colour and texture.

“Sometimes stepping outside your comfort zone can help you discover a completely new and beautiful side of yourself,” she says.

The photoshoot asked Saeeda to step outside her own comfort zone. For most of her creative life, she had worked behind the scenes, designing clothes and creating looks. This time, she was the one wearing the designs and standing in front of the camera.

“I am quite camera-shy, so it was something completely new for me,” she says. “The photographer made me feel very comfortable, and wearing my own designs gave me a new connection with my work.”

At the beginning of the shoot, Saeeda was understandably reserved. She was more accustomed to adjusting a garment or considering how a look should be presented than thinking about her own position in front of the lens.

Gradually, she began to relax.

“I was very tired by the end and definitely realised that modelling is not as easy as it looks,” she says with humour. “But overall, it was a really beautiful and positive experience.”

During the day, she also experienced a quieter and more personal realisation.

“I suddenly realised that I had almost forgotten to smile. It reminded me that I need to find my smile again.” Those words stayed with me.

By the end of the shoot, Saeeda was no longer thinking so carefully about the camera. She was laughing freely and naturally, surrounded by the clothes she had designed and made with her own hands.

The photoshoot did not turn her into somebody new. It allowed her to see herself – and her work – from another side. For a little while, she was not only the artist behind the clothes, but also the woman wearing them, enjoying them and allowing herself to be seen.

“Cancer changed many things in my life, but it did not take away my creativity or my desire to move forward,” she says. “I am still creating, learning and building new dreams for myself and my children.”

Look One

This look brings together soft shades of green, natural texture and detailed handwork.

Relaxed olive-green trousers create an uncomplicated foundation, while the pistachio-green top, made from artisan-woven natural fabric, introduces texture and delicate hand embroidery. Its easy silhouette allows the beauty of the material to remain visible without making the outfit feel formal.

The long handmade overlayer is the focal point of the look. It has been carefully tailored and embroidered, while the back features a hand-painted floral design. This painted detail makes the garment unmistakably individual – a piece shaped not only by technique, but also by Saeeda’s hand as an artist.

The floral elements on the top and overlayer create a gentle connection between the pieces. They do not match exactly, but they seem to belong to the same story.

Minimal jewellery allows the woven fabric, embroidery and painting to remain at the centre of the outfit. The finished look feels calm and considered, with each handmade detail given space to be noticed.

Stylist’s tip: When wearing a detailed handcrafted piece, pair it with simple shapes and restrained accessories. Let the embroidery, texture or painted detail become the part of the outfit that draws the eye.

Look Two

The second look is light, joyful and full of summer colour.

At its centre is a yellow dress made from natural fabric and decorated with a traditional hand-block print. The warm shade brings brightness and energy, while the relaxed shape keeps the look comfortable and easy to wear.

Underneath, Saeeda wears a powder-blue blouse with full sleeves, hand embroidery at the shoulder and decorative inserts running along the arms. These details give the blouse its own identity rather than allowing it to disappear beneath the dress.

The combination of yellow and pale blue feels fresh and slightly unexpected. Small yellow elements within the embroidery connect the blouse to the dress, making the layering feel natural and balanced.

A caramel-toned handbag adds warmth and complements the earthy quality of the printed cotton. Together, the colours create an outfit that feels expressive without becoming overwhelming.

Stylist’s tip: When layering two contrasting garments, look for one small detail that connects them. A repeated colour in embroidery, print or trim can bring the whole outfit together.

Look Three

The third look is built around shades of blue and a gentle contrast between delicate fabrics and relaxed denim.

The flowing handmade overlayer moves lightly around the body, while fine bead embroidery catches the light with each step. Beneath it, a handmade blouse finished with lace adds another layer of softness and detail.

Wide-leg pale-blue jeans give the outfit a more grounded, contemporary feeling. Their simple structure provides an effective contrast to the sheer fabric, lace and beadwork above.

Because the colours remain within the same family, the different textures become the most interesting part of the look. Denim, transparency, lace and small areas of shimmer each contribute something different while preserving the calmness of the blue palette.

The result is relaxed but distinctive – an outfit that allows handcrafted pieces to become part of everyday dressing rather than reserving them only for special occasions.

Stylist’s tip: A monochromatic outfit becomes more interesting when you combine different fabrics. Denim, lace, sheer layers and beadwork can add depth and movement even when the colours are closely related.

For enquiries or commissions contact Saeeda through instagram (saeedamakeupartist) or Facebook (Saeeda Naeem)

There’s a story about wildland firefighters from David Epstein’s book ‘Range’. The firefighters train to fight wildfires. Their protocol states that when they are in danger, they have to drop everything: their heavy tools, their uniform, and run.

But what has been recorded again and again since the ‘90s is the surprising reality that, even when the command is clear and their lives are on the line, many firefighters choose to hold on to their tools and uniforms. This choice often costs them their lives.

Why don’t they save their lives? Epstein draws on the work of Karl Weick, an organisational psychologist who found that firefighting tools define firefighters’ identities and give them a sense of belonging. The fire axe, the saw, the shovel become extensions of their bodies. One firefighter shared that only after running a good few kilometres uphill did he realise he was still holding his heavy axe. Firefighters practise fighting fires; their identity is around running towards the fire, not running away from it. They weren’t able to follow the command because it brought an existential crisis, asking them to drop their singular identity associated with their tools and uniforms.

And they are not alone. Many of us spend years building a narrow identity that holds our life together. And when it stops serving us, we hold onto it anyway, telling ourselves the same story about who we are, even when all evidence says we’d be better off dropping it. We hope for the best; we tell ourselves: “it will be grand”; we ignore any signals or advice that following the familiar path would result in a crisis.

I shared this story with my clients and asked: “What are you holding onto that, if you dropped, would let you move forward with more ease?”

And people shared with me the ‘tools’ they wished to drop. The tools were different, and yet familiar. The examples below are based on the conversations I’ve had. Names and details changed.

Alex, a musician, would like to drop his people-pleasing habit and the expectation to be only a musician. Without these, “I’d feel freer, curious, malleable. I’d be willing to make mistakes, I’d be childlike, in a really good way.”

Sam, a business owner, wished to let go of the fear of what other people think; fear of being judged as having ‘notions’ was a common thread of many of the answers I heard. Sam said, “I stop myself from dreaming big because I think I’ll be regarded as big-headed.” Without the fear, she would be free to “sing from the rooftops!”

Gwen, who sold two successful businesses and is in the process of starting a third, wished to drop always chasing the hardest, most disruptive version of everything, the need to be “the cutting edge” – instead she’d want to feel more connected, and enjoy the simple things.

My own answer is “doing.” I come from generations of doers. My great-grandmother ran a farm and raised twelve children alone while her husband was stranded abroad for seven years during the war. My grandmother and my mother continue her legacy, never taking a relaxing holiday. I built a career as a communication consultant on the same instinct: bring me the chaos, I’ll organise it, I’ll hold it, I’ll do it. By expanding beyond the doer identity, I found a base for my coaching career. As a coach, I don’t need to “do,” but hold space for my clients to find their own path. And unlike my ancestors, I now can enjoy a lazy day on the beach.

The need to change and expand our identity comes to all of us in so many ways: from starting a business, giving birth or losing a loved one, to advancements in technology and AI that are forcing many to rethink their careers overnight. Whatever the shape of it, the same inner judge tends to show up with “what’s wrong with you?” or “It’s easier for everyone else!”. The firefighter’s story helped me to remember that dropping the familiar and trusted “tools” is never easily done, and I don’t even have blazing fire to force my hand.

So if you feel stuck in business or life, answer the same question I asked my clients: what are you holding onto that, if you dropped, would let you move forward with more ease? And how would you know you dropped it? What would be different?

Before answering the question, ground yourself. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Tune into your body. This will help you tap into a deeper sense of knowing. Feel your feet touching the ground, the clothes touching your skin. Pay attention to any words or images that come to mind. Stay open and curious.

Set a five-minute timer and write or draw. Let yourself be surprised by what emerges on the page.

Did you resonate with the article and feel ready to expand your identity and business? I’d love to work with you. Coaching sessions run for 75 minutes and cost €95.

Visit www.thinkvisual.ie/letschat to book a free discovery call or email me naomi@thinkvisual.ie.

By Nicholas Mitchell

If you visit one of West Cork’s estuaries during July and August, you may notice something puzzling. Two Black-tailed Godwits standing side by side can look remarkably different, even though they belong to the same subspecies, ‘Limosa limosa icelandica’, which breeds in Iceland.

I photographed the two birds in the first photograph on Rosscarbery estuary in early July. One has a bright orange bill and rich chestnut breeding plumage, while the other is much duller with a pink bill and patchy grey feathers. So why the difference?

The plumage of the bird on the left indicates that it almost certainly remained in Iceland long enough to breed successfully. Females often leave the breeding grounds first, immediately after the chicks hatch, leaving the males to finish raising the young. This is why brightly-coloured adults in breeding-plumage start appearing in Ireland from late June onwards on their return migration, and why this is more likely to be a female. She is also just beginning her moult and transition into winter plumage. Over the coming weeks, the bright orange bill will fade to a dull pink, and its rusty feathers will be replaced by grey ones, providing a more suitable camouflage for muddy estuaries.

The bird on the right tells a different story. With its pink bill It could either be an adult that failed to breed successfully or an immature bird spending its second summer in Ireland. How can we tell?

Failed breeders have patches of rich chestnut-orange feathers on the neck, breast, and belly. Because they were in breeding condition only a few weeks before, they are actively shedding their bright feathers, creating a somewhat messy, patchy mix of bright orange and new grey winter feathers. They will also be hungry and feed intensely on the mudflats.

On the other hand, immature (non-breeding) birds never developed the rich chestnut breeding plumage in the first place. Their feathers are uniformly dull grey-brown, heavily worn and faded after a year without moulting. They have remained in Ireland throughout the summer instead of migrating to Iceland, and generally spend much more time roosting than feeding.

The bird that I photographed was feeding actively and still showed a patchy orange chest with distinct dark horizontal bars and a lower belly that looked ‘dirty’ and mottled, as it moults out of its summer coat. This is strong evidence that it was an adult failed breeder rather than an immature non-breeder.

By the time you read this, a new generation of Black-tailed Godwits will be arriving in Ireland on their first migration, south to their over-wintering grounds. Juveniles are particularly attractive birds. They have a lovely bright plain peachy breast and dark grey-brown upper feathers with neat, pale buff edges, that gives them a scaly pattern (see the second photograph, kindly provided by Ciarán Cronin).

Next time you visit one of West Cork’s estuaries, take a closer look at the Black-tailed Godwits. With a little practice, you may be able to distinguish between newly arrived juveniles, second-year birds that never migrated, and adults returning from their breeding grounds. While you are out watching the waders, also keep an eye out for birds with colour leg-rings. Recording and reporting these rings allows scientists to track migration routes, survival rates and breeding success. All that information helps to improve conservation measures for these remarkable birds. The third photograph, taken in August 2019 on Clonakilty Estuary, shows a colour-ringed Black-Tailed Godwit. This bird was ringed as an adult in Portugal in November 2011. it has since been recorded in Portugal, the Netherlands and Ireland, illustrating the extraordinary journeys these birds make each year.

If this has sparked your interest, and you would like to learn more about the birds that are on the estuaries near you, then why not join us in August, either in Timoleague or Rosscarbery (details below)? Families and beginners are especially welcome.

BirdWatch Ireland
West Cork Branch News

Upcoming outings being held by the Branch are:

Sunday, August 9:
Timoleague Educational Garden

Sunday, August 16:
Heritage Week – Rosscarbery

Sunday, August 23:
Pelagic boat trip
Visit our website www.birdwatchirelandwestcork.ie for more information about these events.  For more information about the Branch, contact Fiona O’Neill at secretary@birdwatchirelandwestcork.ie.

f@BirdWatchIrelandWestCork

c@birdwatch_ireland_west_cork

Would you buy a diamond ring if it meant you were contributing to the death of a frog? What a silly question, you will say. What if the diamond ring led to the extinction of an entire frog species? Most people probably wouldn’t care about that either. But a diamond is just a piece of carbon, chemically identical to the lead in a pencil; a frog is a fellow creature with as much right to a happy life as a human. Surely, that should be far more valuable.

Many species of frog are endangered. They suffer from a deadly infection, chytridiomycosis, caused by a fungus that invades their skin, reducing their ability to breathe, hydrate or control body temperature. The fungus has been spread by the pet trade and also by the use of the African clawed toad for medical research in laboratories all over the world. Climate change has probably made conditions more favourable for the fungus. Frogs are also killed by absorbing, through their skin,  pesticides and other pollutants. Habitat loss, due to relentless human population increase, urbanisation and so-called ‘development’, is contributing to their decline, and millions of frogs get squashed on roads. Of the 7,600 or so known species of frog, 34 have become extinct in recent times, five in the last five years; 135 others haven’t been seen for decades and are possibly extinct too. Three more frog species are extinct in the wild and only survive in captivity. 

One species, the desert rain frog, was in the news recently, having just been classified as vulnerable by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature. It is an enchanting little creature, found only in a small strip of sand dunes on the coast of southern Namibia and northern South Africa. It is one of 15 species of rain frogs, all globular and only a few inches across. Their legs are so short they are unable to hop, and the males can’t even clasp their females during mating, but have to produce a sort of glue to stick them together. They have bulging eyes and down-curving mouths, giving them the most mournful expressions. And well might they look mournful – several are endangered.

The desert rain frog is a very specialised animal, which is not a good thing to be when faced with man-made environmental changes. Living in an arid place is difficult for a frog. The only moisture this one ever gets comes from sea fogs, which dampen the sand enough for the frog to survive. It spends most of its life underground, buried deeply where the sand is still damp and where it can escape the heat of the day, only emerging at night to feed on insects. It lays its eggs in a burrow and, as there is no water around, has no tadpole stage, the eggs hatching directly into froglets.

Unfortunately, there are diamonds under the frogs’ desert home, and I can’t imagine any diamond miner, trader or jeweller, or African politician, being worried about a frog (they don’t always worry about humans – have you seen the film ‘Blood Diamond’?). All diamond mines damage the environment and threaten wildlife, and are quite unnecessary because diamonds can now be made synthetically. To mine for them in the only place where the desert rain frog can exist is just criminal.

The poor desert rain frog has other threats to face: industrial development, climate change, again, (causing even drier conditions) and something really preposterous: videos on the internet. These have been put there by people, probably not herpetologists, who think that the little frogs are “cute”, in the American sense of that word. Their appearance is extraordinarily endearing, but even better (for fools), if you make them angry, they squeak, just like a dog’s toy. What these morons don’t know is that the frog is angry for a very good reason, not just because it doesn’t like humans (perfectly understandable), but because if it is picked up, it will quite possibly die a horrible death. To help absorb as much moisture as it can, the belly of the desert rain frog is paper-thin, and so transparent its internal organs are visible. If it is handled roughly, the skin will rupture and its insides fall out. When it squeaks, it is actually screaming “Please, don’t touch me”. There might soon be queues of idiotic “influencers” filming themselves with these poor little amphibians, and huge demand for them as pets. Until their insides fall out.

One of the joys of an African night is the sound of frogs. There are 146 species in southern Africa alone, each with a distinctive call, made by the males to attract females. Three species lived in my garden in Zambia: fat, knobbly guttural toads, with creaking woody voices; red toads, dark, brick-red, with low, booming calls; and tiny painted reed frogs, yellow with irregular black and white stripes and blotches, which sang all night in a high-pitched, slightly metallic squeak, like an orchestra of tiny, tinkling bells.

I once took a year off teaching and went to work, voluntarily, in a nature reserve in Malawi (I would be there still if I had the money). There was a pond outside my wooden hut, home to two species of the totally aquatic clawed toads (one species – Xenopus laevis, was used in pregnancy tests – if a female frog was injected with the urine of a pregnant woman, it would produce eggs). There were also sharp-nosed grass frogs, a species that holds the world record for frog-jumping (10.3 metres in three  jumps), and foam-nest frogs, which turn white in the heat of the day, and lay their eggs in nests of bubbles that they build on tree branches above ponds and pools; the tadpoles hatch out in this foam and drop into the water.

To see other species, I had to trudge around the wetlands after sunset, with torch, camera and sound-recorder, often accompanied by a friendly ostrich. Greater leaf-folding frogs lived in the reeds by the edge of a large lake; they lay their eggs on reed leaves, which they then fold over and glue together into an envelope. There were many types of reed frog, one of which I couldn’t find in my frog book and hoped for a few weeks that it might be a new species. It wasn’t. There were other types of grass frog, and shovel-nosed frogs, bull frogs, rubber frogs and ornate frogs too. But the frog I most wanted to see was the bubbling kassina, a handsome yellow and brown striped amphibian whose strange call, like a stone plopping into water, can be heard all over southern Africa. I waited every night by the lake’s margin and listened to its call, but as soon as I got near, the noise would stop, and  the frog would creep silently away. I never did see one.

Ireland is not a great place for frog-lovers: there are just two species here – the common frog and the natterjack toad, and few people will ever see either. (The word toad is not scientifically specific; the true toads belong to one particular family of frogs but, confusingly, many other frogs are called toads). When I was in college, my only encounters with frogs were ones I would rather forget – dissections. Undergraduates at Trinity always dissected the frog, after the dogfish and before the rat. And at the College of Surgeons, research students used to give dissection courses every year to the pre-meds before their summer exams. We would buy the frogs from a frog farm somewhere down in the country – they arrived by train, in boxes of damp grass, and I would collect them from Heuston Station. 

Many people consider frogs ugly, slimy, even poisonous (some are, but can’t harm you if you leave them alone). But frogs are not only amusing and attractive, they eat slugs and insect pests, so should be our friends. They are also good indicators of the state of our planet, and their decline should be a serious cause for concern. One way to help frogs is to build a pond. It need not be anything fancy. When I lived in Zambia, I dug a hole in the garden big enough for a washing basin with a few rocks and weeds, and soon a gravid female guttural toad moved in. She would have spawned had she not been eaten by a mongoose. We don’t have mongooses in Ireland, only fanatical grass cutters, and there is no point making a pond, attracting frogs, and then spraying weed-killer and smashing them apart with a strimmer. The choice is yours – wildlife or useless lawns. And before you buy any diamond jewellery, please think about the desert rain frog. 

For decades, our housing priority in Ireland has been entirely about survival in the winter: keeping the cold, wind, and damp out while staying cosy inside. But is that about to change? With recent extended heatwaves, we are all looking at ways to keep cool, especially if this trend of warmer summers is here to stay.

Modern and retrofitted Irish homes tend to be well-insulated and draught-free, which is great for keeping warm. But when a heatwave hits, those very same tight envelopes can trap heat indoors, turning well-insulated living rooms into stuffy hotboxes. The good news is that you do not have to choose between a freezing house in January and a sauna in July, (not the nice mobile ones!). By combining smart passive design, modern inverter-driven cooling technology, solar power, the right choice of insulation, and a sprinkling of common sense, you can keep your home comfortably cool and your energy use low. 

One of the common misconceptions among self-builders and renovators is that highly insulated homes will turn into an oven during the summer months. In reality, thermal insulation acts as a two-way shield. It stops heat from escaping your living room in the depths of winter and keeps blistering midday summer heat from penetrating your roof and walls. However, not all insulations perform equally when the sun beats down, which comes down to a physics concept called decrement delay.

Decrement delay measures the time it takes for heat from the outside air to travel through a building material and reach your interior rooms. Lightweight insulations, like standard expanded polystyrene or foil-backed PIR boards, have low thermal mass. Heat from outside can penetrate relatively quickly, often in just three to four hours, meaning the afternoon sun hits your living space just as evening arrives. Conversely, high-density, natural materials such as wood-fibre, hemp, or cellulose act like a thermal sponge. Because of their mass and specific heat capacity, they can boast a decrement delay of eight to twelve hours. By the time solar heat finally works its way through a wood-fibre roof insulation layer, the sun has gone down, the night air has cooled, and you can easily ventilate the heat back outside. If you are building or upgrading your roof in West Cork, choosing high-decrement materials is your first line of defence against summer overheating.

Another key factor in keeping heat out is the amount and orientation of your glazing and, to a lesser extent, the specification of the glass itself. While less relevant for retrofits, good architectural design can eliminate the need for active cooling entirely if you are building from scratch or even extending. Windows are the primary culprits for solar heat gain, so it pays to consider whether all that south-facing, floor-to-ceiling glass is really necessary. South and west facing glass needs external shading, such as deep roof eaves, brise-soleil architectural fins, or external roller blinds or shutters, because once sunlight passes through a window pane, the heat is trapped indoors. Design your windows to allow cross-ventilation, and consider glass specifications carefully. Triple glazing generally allows less solar gain than double glazing, and special low-solar-gain coatings can further inhibit heat on exposed elevations. High-level windows or automated roof skylights let trapped hot air escape via the stack effect at night, drawing fresh, cool breezes through the lower floor, a method we have been using to cool our own home in the evenings over recent weeks. Finally, incorporating exposed concrete, tile, or stone floors gives your interior a thermal mass heat sink to absorb daytime heat, though caution is needed, as combining high thermal mass with overglazing can release excess heat overnight and worsen overheating. If you are building a new house, assessing overheating risk is just as important as checking energy ratings and heat loss.

When passive measures are not enough, mechanical cooling steps in, though systems should always be a last resort. There are several options based around heat pump technology. If you have underfloor heating paired with a ground-source or air-source heat pump, it can often be adapted for cooling. Ground-source geothermal systems are preferable because cooling can be done passively via a small heat exchanger that takes water directly from the ground loop to cool the underfloor circuit, bypassing the compressor. The only energy used is by the circulation pump; a clever, low-cost solution that I have heard anecdotally has reduced indoor temperatures by about four degrees in several West Cork homes this summer! Reversible air-to-water heat pumps can also supply cold water, though this requires running the compressor and consumes more electricity. Neither method works with standard metal radiators, as they lack sufficient surface area and will collect condensation that drips onto floors and causes corrosion.

Alternatively, air-to-air heat pumps operate like modern European air conditioning, using an outdoor unit to feed indoor room units. These have not traditionally been popular in Ireland due to our historic familiarity with wet radiator systems, lower SEAI grant support and historical lack of need. They do however work exceptionally well for both heating and cooling in smaller retrofitted properties without an existing wet distribution system and I have been involved in a few projects like this. 

All modern heat pump systems utilise inverter technology. Unlike older air conditioners that blared at full power until hitting a temperature target and then shut off completely, inverter-driven compressors act like a dimmer switch. Once the target temperature is reached, the compressor slows down smoothly to maintain a steady climate while drawing minimal electricity. When paired with a rooftop Solar PV system, the economics align. As I have often told clients, while solar power rarely matches winter heating demand, peak cooling needs occur on the sunniest days when panels generate maximum output. Instead of drawing grid power, your home essentially runs on free West Cork sunshine.

For homeowners looking to fund these upgrades, government support is structured around targeted schemes. The SEAI Warmer Homes Scheme provides fully funded energy upgrades for low-income homeowners receiving qualifying welfare payments. A Medically Vulnerable Scheme also offers fully funded solar installations for households with registered medical needs requiring heavy power use. For general homeowners, standard SEAI grants offer up to €1,800 alongside zero percent VAT on solar panel installations, up to €12,500 for heat pumps providing space heating, and up to €2,000 to insulate attics with cellulose to combat summer heat.

As always, if you would like to get in touch about anything discussed here or your own retrofit project, feel free to reach out to Ruairí at ruairi@retrofurb.ie.

A volunteer-led organisation that provides highly trained K9 search and rescue teams to assist in missing person searches across Ireland is looking for new members.

A relatively new K9 search and rescue organisation, Ireland’s Specialist Search and Rescue Dogs (ISSARD) is is working to develop dogs across the disciplines of mantrailing, airscent, and cadaver, with a special focus on low-land and urban searches.

Working alongside tasking agencies like An Garda Síochána and other recognised search agencies, ISSARD deploys specialist dog teams to support in search, rescue, and recovery missions across Ireland. Combining professional standards with a strong community spirit, the organisation’s team goal is play a role in supporting families, communities and emergency services when someone goes missing.

ISSARD Chairperson, Becci Jeffers, is based in Courtmacsherry. Her pet dog, Pepper, adopted from West Cork Animal Rescue in 2023, is working towards assessment in the discipline of cadaver/HRD on-land and in drowned victims recovery.

Becci says the legacy of volunteering in her family and the ethos of the organisation encouraged her to join. “My dad served with the RNLI, so he likes to say ‘Pepper is continuing the family tradition of SAR work.’ I initially volunteered as a dog’s body in 2024 to support the work of the team, but as time went on the mission, work, and culture of the organisation really struck home for me.”

She continues, “the team is professional and full of eager, hardworking people who are dedicated to contributing to the exceptional demands of search, rescue, and recovery in a collaborative fashion and with a specialist focus. It is a particularly challenging line of voluntary engagement, one that requires significant commitment from our members, but equally one that offers critical services to communities in need. Recently too, we have been engaging in valuable inter-agency exercises with Killarney Water Search and Recovery, Tipperary Search and Rescue, Dublin Homeless Awareness, and the Coast Guard, which have emphasised the many contributing resources and significant voluntary hours involved in search and rescue operations. We welcome new volunteer applications through our onboarding process, and should anyone be interested in joining in some capacity, more details can be found on our website.”    

ISSARD’s onboarding programmes are currently held twice each year. These recruits initially serve as “dog’s bodies or mispers” i.e. volunteers who assist in training exercises by acting as search subjects for the dogs. This vital role helps develop and maintain the dogs’ search skills while giving new members an opportunity to learn about the team’s operations and become involved in the organisation’s work.

The next onboarding call will be for August, 26, please see www.issard.ie or follow on Facebook or Instagram for more details.

For more than 25 years, the West Cork Animal Welfare Group (WCAWG) has been dedicated to improving the lives of animals across the region. Since its inception, the organisation has helped rehome more than 8,000 animals, assisting an average of 300 to 400 pets every year in finding loving, permanent homes. Aoibhinn O’Sullivan, Kennel Staff at WCAWG, shares valuable advice on what prospective owners should know before welcoming a rescue animal into their family.

One of the most important things for prospective adopters to understand is that bringing home a rescue pet is a process that takes time. Whether it is a cat, dog, puppy or kitten, every animal needs an opportunity to settle into its new surroundings, become familiar with its environment and build trust with the people around it. Equally, families need time to get to know their new pet, including their personality, preferences, fears and individual quirks.

Patience and understanding are essential during this transition period. A move to a new home can be daunting for any animal, regardless of whether they have come directly from a previous home or from a kennel or cattery environment. Simply allowing a new pet the space and time to adjust, without overwhelming them, can make a significant difference in helping them feel secure.

Anyone considering adoption should also carefully think about the long-term commitment involved. Dogs and cats can often live for 15 years or more, depending on the breed, and owners need to be prepared for the responsibility that comes with caring for an animal throughout its lifetime.

Life circumstances can change over the years, with children growing up, moving away to college, changes in employment or family situations, but a pet remains dependent on its owners for care and stability. It is important that everyone in the household is fully committed to welcoming a new pet and understands the responsibilities involved, from feeding and exercise to training, grooming, cleaning and veterinary care. Financial costs, including unexpected vet bills, should also be considered before making the decision to adopt.

A useful guideline often referenced in rescue circles is the 3-3-3 rule, which helps explain how long it may take for a pet to settle into a new home. The first three days are typically spent decompressing after the stress of the move. During the first three weeks, the animal begins to learn household routines, become familiar with family members and gain confidence in its new surroundings. By three months, many pets are fully settled and feel at home.

While every animal is different and these timelines can vary, the 3-3-3 rule provides realistic expectations for adopters. Some pets may settle more quickly, while others require additional time depending on their background and previous experiences. Minor challenges during this adjustment period are common and should not be viewed as setbacks.

Consistency, routine and clear boundaries play a crucial role in helping both dogs and cats settle successfully. Establishing these routines from the very beginning helps create a sense of security and predictability, allowing the animal to understand what is expected of them.

When it comes to rescue dogs in particular, it is important to remember that every dog has a unique history. Some may have experienced neglect, abandonment or difficult circumstances, while others may have come from loving homes where owners could no longer care for them. Whatever their background, each dog deserves patience and understanding as they adapt to a new chapter in their lives.

Building a relationship with a rescue dog can sometimes be challenging, particularly in the early stages, but the rewards are immense. Watching a dog gain confidence, learn to trust and become a valued member of the family is one of the most rewarding aspects of rescue adoption.

Behind every successful adoption is a significant amount of work carried out by rescue organisations such as WCAWG. The centre is run by a small team of two staff members, supported by a dedicated group of volunteers and dog walkers who give their time to care for the animals. WCAWG also works closely with Transition Year students throughout the school year, providing valuable work placement opportunities.

The day-to-day reality of animal rescue involves far more than many people realise. Alongside feeding, cleaning, grooming, exercising and providing veterinary care, staff spend time socialising animals and helping prepare them for life in a new home.

Outside the kennels, the workload continues. The team responds to dozens of calls, emails and messages every day relating to adoptions, pet surrenders, lost and found animals, feral cat colonies and general pet care advice. Managing social media, updating supporters and completing the necessary administration and paperwork are also important aspects of the organisation’s work.

While the work can be demanding, seeing animals thrive in their new homes and receiving updates from adopters makes every effort worthwhile.

For more information, to make a donation or to fill out an adoption form go to www.westcorkanimals.com

Initially found as a stray, Nell’s foster caregiver, Lauren Ingram, shares why Nell is so deserving of a good home with the right person.

This little sprite is dinky collie mix, maybe mostly Australian Kelpie. She’s so small, her ears are the largest part of her! She is gentle and loving and playful, with a teeny touch of cheekiness that adds to her overall charm.

A bit timid initially with new people, Nell is dying to bond with a person and presses into you for affection! She can be coy, in that she’ll only want to do something if it’s her idea but, as she’s very responsive to treats, this can easily be worked on with training and consistency. 

The ideal home would be reasonably calm. She would be the perfect companion for an older person. She is fine with strangers and people but can be daunted by a lot of running around or noise.

Nell would do very well in an apartment or a rural setting. She would be fine as an only dog or with a very steady male companion. She does not like it when unknown dogs rush straight up to her, she prefers polite introductions. She walks gentle on lead and is very reliable off lead. Children 12-plus for Nell; she loves to play games and shake for treats so would love dog-savvy children around. She doesn’t pay much mind to cats.

If you would like to offer Nell a home, please read the Adoption Process on the West Cork Animal Welfare website (westcorkanimals.com) and apply using the Adoption Questionnaire.

There are meals you enjoy and then there are dining experiences that transport you entirely. Mary O’Brien’s recent visit to Terre, the two Michelin-starred restaurant nestled within the historic Manor House at Castlemartyr Resort, was firmly in the latter category.

For a few wonderful hours on a recent rainy Thursday evening, we escaped everyday life and immersed ourselves in a culinary journey that will stay with us for a long time.

Our invitation to dine was to mark the launch of ‘Friends of Terre’, Executive Chef Lewis Barker’s exciting new guest chef collaboration series. Fresh from retaining Terre’s two Michelin stars within his first six months at the restaurant, Barker welcomed his longtime friend Michael Wilson of Singapore’s Michelin-starred Marguerite for a unique collaborative menu showcasing both chefs’ distinctive styles.

From the moment we arrived, every detail was carefully choreographed. Our evening began in the elegant reception room with two exquisite opening bites. Belfego Akami tuna was paired with delicate hints of melon and fennel pollen, while beautifully dry-aged Shanagarry beef delivered a memorable finish of Japanese spice. It was an exciting introduction that hinted at the creativity to come.

Before dinner, Kevin O’Shea, who manages the Terre Kitchen Garden, shared some of the history of Castlemartyr Resort, as we made our way through a beautifully designed passageway, where the backlit shelves lined with preserved foraged ingredients sat opposite Executive Chef Lewis Barker’s collection of Michelin Guides, subtly reinforcing Terre’s philosophy of respecting both tradition and innovation.

One of the evening’s highlights was taking our seats at the Chef’s Table overlooking the striking open kitchen. Softly lit and quietly theatrical, the open kitchen allowed us to watch the calm precision of the team at work. Beside us, a glass cabinet displayed carefully ageing fish and game, offering a glimpse into the craftsmanship behind the menu. We were served an impossibly beautiful Skeaghanore duck creation before being introduced to the exceptional ingredients featured throughout the nine-course tasting menu.

Much of the produce comes from the surrounding area, reflecting Terre’s deep connection to the Irish landscape. Beef sourced from just across the road, specially reared milk-fed lamb from Ladysbridge, Ballycotton blue lobster, vegetables from the restaurant’s own kitchen garden and Skeaghanore duck from Ballydehob all showcased the very best of local provenance. International influences were equally evident through ingredients such as Lough Neagh smoked eel, Australian truffle and citrus-cured Hamachi, demonstrating Chef Lewis Barker’s global culinary experience while never overshadowing the exceptional Irish produce.

A delicate pea tartlet with goat’s cheese perfectly captured the essence of summer in a single bite.

The experience then moved into Terre’s beautifully appointed dining room, where warm wood tones and rich chocolate hues created an intimate yet understated setting. Here, dishes were elegantly finished tableside without unnecessary theatrics, allowing the quality of the ingredients and the technical brilliance of the cooking to take centre stage.

Service throughout the evening was faultless. Every member of the team was warm, knowledgeable and effortlessly professional. Rather than feeling overly formal, the experience felt genuinely personal, as though every detail had been created especially for us.

The wine pairing elevated each course beautifully. The citrus-cured Hamachi was matched with a crisp, juicy Fritz Haag Riesling that perfectly complemented the freshness of the dish.

Lough Neagh smoked eel topped with Kaluga caviar was another first for me on both counts, and an unforgettable combination of richness and refinement. This was followed by a naturally sweet and tender Ballycotton blue lobster dish.

Further pairings included two outstanding white wines: the 2023 Ocampo Listán Blanco from Tenerife and the beautifully mineral 2022 Hatzidakis Aidani from Santorini.

An elegant 2020 Baron de Brane Margaux introduced the rich flavour of beautifully cooked lamb served with local wild asparagus.

Dessert was every bit as memorable as the savoury courses. Accompanied by a fragrant White Tea Chai from Fujian, China, a delicate garden strawberry tart celebrated the season, before the evening concluded with what was perhaps my favourite dish of all – a theatrical chocolate gâteau infused with truffle that delivered indulgence without being too rich. This was served alongside a luscious 2018 Dobogó 6 Puttonyos Tokaji Aszú whose notes of dried apricot, tobacco leaf and dates provided the perfect conclusion. My glass was quietly and discreetly refilled, one of many thoughtful touches that defined the evening.

Finally, we returned to the salon, sinking gratefully into comfortable armchairs to enjoy beautifully crafted petits fours with tea and coffee while reflecting on the remarkable journey we had just experienced.

Chef Barker and Wilson’s shared commitment to precision, ingredients and storytelling was evident throughout the evening, blending Irish provenance with global influences to create something very special at this wonderful restaurant. 

To book go to www.terre.tablepath.com/reservations or email info@terre.ie for more information.

This September people in West Cork will have the opportunity to step back into the 1930s and let loose on the dancefloor with Edwina Guckian and The Big Gralton Band, who will bring their performance ‘The Devil’s in the Dance Hall’ – a powerful, joyous live show celebrating jazz and Irish music from the era – to Bere Island during the island’s annual arts festival. Mary O’Brien hears more about the dances of yore from Edwina Guckian and some of the older generation in West Cork.

“It’s a night for all ages to come and dance and laugh…and nobody gives a hoot what you’re doing because they’re all too busy dancing themselves,” shares dancer and artistic director Edwina Guckian, whose aim is to revive social dancing in Ireland.

“A lot of the younger generation, particularly the under-20s, aren’t dancing. They’ll go to the nightclubs or pubs where the music is blaring but everybody just stands around,” says Edwina.

Her immersive three-hour theatre and dance experience is designed to change that. “It’s music that just makes you want to move,” she says passionately.

 Centred around a fictional 1930s big band, the performance is inspired by the true story of Jimmy Gralton and the suppression of Ireland’s rural dance halls in the early 20th century.

The 1930s brought jazz and swing to Ireland but following the Carrigan Report (1934), which blamed “moral degeneracy” on motorcars, dance halls, and the “creeping in of jazz music”, the Public Dancehall Act of 1935 made unlicensed dancing illegal and was aimed primarily at controlling house dances and crossroads gatherings.

Jimmy Gralton was a socialist who was deported from Ireland for running a community hall on his land that promoted free thinking, music, and dance. Today, Edwina is part of a local committee that has bought the site of Jimmy Gralton’s original hall and is fundraising to rebuild it.

“He was a fighter for the working class people and really stood up to church and state,” she shares.

The dance project grew out of Edwina’s research into women in 1930s-40s Ireland during which she gathered stories from the older generation, including her own grandparents who shared how they cycled to dancehalls. “They’d all meet up at a local crossroads beforehand and there would never be enough bicycles, so people would be carrying, you know, like two or even three people on a bicycle…I have a lovely image of my grandmother on the crossbar holding on to grandad, you know, cycling to a dance,” says Edwina.

Another anecdote recounts how some men would put a dab of petrol on their collar. “As aftershave,” says Edwina. “So when they were dancing with a woman, she’d think that they had a car.”

In West Cork, Tim Joe Whooley started Lisheen Dance Platform near Skibbereen in the early ‘60s, along with John and Timmy Whooley and Jerry Minihane. Up to 350 people, many arriving by bicycle or on foot, would attend the dance sessions on the concrete platform at the side of the road next to Minihan’s pub in Lisheen. Entry was a shilling. Tim Joe recalls with humour a headline in his local paper at the time that read something like ‘Judge cuts short holiday to issue licence to Tim Joe Whooley for Lisheen dance platform’. Other popular dance spots included Crowley’s Hall in Union Hall, The Lilac in Enniskeane and the Town Hall in Skibbereen, where Tim Joe first met his future wife Eileen.

Pascal Hurley, 80, who grew up in Castletownbere, started attending dances in parish halls as a teenager in the 1950s. She met her husband, Danny Hurley, at a dance hall in Glengarriff. She recalls the etiquette in those days was to ask early on in the night if you wanted to dance with someone. She also remembers the excitement of getting dressed up for the dance even though most people just had the one “good dress”, which they would have made or bought locally.

Ninety-seven-year old Eileen Collins lives in Drimoleague and has always loved to dance. She recalls going to the ‘four penny hop’ and ‘Cinderella dance’ in Hannah Gurrane’s hall in Drimoleague every month and attending crossroads dances (known as ‘The Pattern’) west in Inchingerig every Sunday evening in summer. There were also ‘all night’ dances with big show bands that ran until 2am every three months. While working in London in her 20s, she visited the famous Galtymore dance hall.

Her memories include set dancing, waltzes, foxtrots, quicksteps, and dancing the ‘paraglide’ (to the tune of ‘Underneath the Spreading Chestnut Tree’).

“They were good times,” she says nostalgically. “I was often the first in and the last out of the dancehall.”

Eileen bought her first bicycle on hire purchase and cycled to dances in Drinagh.

She recalls how at dances the men would stand on one side of the hall and the women on the other until the music started. “Then the men would fly across the room!” she adds with a smile.

There was the ‘Kiss Me Waltz’ where you’d have to kiss whoever you stopped in front of,” she recalls. “Some people used to run off to the bathroom,” she says laughing.

At Christmastime there were ‘turkey balls’ – dances held in people’s homes where men played cards for turkeys while others danced in the kitchen.

In Summer there were threshing balls with dancing and singing in the house that night and “plenty of porter for the men”. “We’d come home across the fields at two or three in the morning and you’d hear the corncrakes singing.”

Edwina and The Big Gralton Band want to reignite that joy and sense of freedom on the Irish dancefloor. “We’ll also be setting the scene,” she shares “so you’ll come away knowing a lot more about that era.”

Dancers of all ages are encouraged to dress in the style of the 1930s and get ready to be swept up in the frenzy of jazz. There will also be sean nós, shim-shamming, lindy hopping, set-dancing, surprises and scandal. No experience necessary, as Edwina will teach you all the dance moves.

The Bere Island Arts Festival runs from September 17-20. For more information and to book tickets go to www.bereislandartsfestival.ie.

On a recent trip to Antwerp my intrepid partner and I found ourselves in hardhats traversing the city’s historic canals. But for flash lights we were in darkness, walking in a line along a canal bed, for the waterways, known as ‘ruien,’ had been vaulted over, enclosed, for many hundreds of years. We were effectively walking underneath the city, traversing the route that canal barges may have once taken, passing under what once would have been bridges and sluice gates.

Being a book-hound, I later found a wonderful tome with photographs of the ruien from the 1800s. There, in sepia, standing tall in the openings of the ruien, were ships, slim one-masters huddled hull to hull along the canal walls; and larger three-masters docked along the Jordaenskai, the quay breasting the River Scheldt. The photographs also showed, amongst the tall ships in the Willemdok, the tall, dark flues of steam ships, for this was the age when both the new and the old mingled together, as famously depicted in William Turner’s ‘The Fighting Temeraire.’

Turner’s painting of 1839, set across the channel on a pearlescent River Thames, shows England’s gallant old warship being towed by a dark-flued tugboat. The warship was at the end of its life, a metaphor for what would soon be the end of the ‘age of sail,’ as the industrial revolution powered ahead. 

Just as steam power revolutionised shipping, the birth of photography began to revolutionise the way that we see. The photographs reproduced in my fortuitous find stand in stark contrast to Turner’s painting. They are not regarded as great works of art, but as traces of moments frozen by a mechanical device. They are the work of a new technology, of a mechanical eye, that would soon vie with the painter’s hand for supremacy in the realm of simulacra, in the realm of reproduction.

Photographs from the 1800s always feel ghostly: stevedores at work rolling barrels along the quay of the Brouwersvliet (the Brewers Canal), passengers and sailors grouped at the Willemdok, boys wading into the Margueriedok at low tide. The latter are seen in a photograph from 1897, and one cannot help but wonder at the lives they lived. For where a painting of the same may have been in some way staged, edited or invented, our attention taken by the brushstrokes and the whimsy of the painter, there can be no doubt in the photograph, of a moment frozen in time, of the hesitancy of one boy and the daring of another, at the light and shadow of a particular time of day, of the longboats, half in the water, beside them. Who were those boys? What lives did they live? Did they survive the Great War? Did they survive the month? Did they know the legend of ‘Lange Wapper,’ the trickster who would lead one into the waters?

‘Lange Wapper’ is a mythic figure in Antwerp, a shape-shifting trickster of the canals who would lure drunks into the murky waters late at night. A sculpture of the trickster graces the forecourt of the Steen, Antwerp’s ancient fortress facing the Scheldt. As in the photographs of the boys, there is no changing the sculpture’s shape. The ‘real’ Lange Wapper is the spirit of calamity, a legend forged, perhaps, to warn a populace against the treachery of Antwerp’s ruien, the malign spirit of the hungry waters that could cut lives unexpectedly short.

Old photographs haunt; they beg stories of past lives. That is not to say that old paintings don’t; in many cases they are far more alive. The main difference is that paintings are hybrid creatures: they tell us as much about the painter as about their subject, bearing as they do the visceral trace of the painter’s hand. A good example here is ‘A view of the Koolvliet’ (the Coal Canal) from 1875, by Jan Michiel Ruyten, which predates a photograph of the same canal from 1881. Working from life, Ruyten had no way of ‘freezing’ his figures; they are approximations, evocations, rendered with deft economy, giving us an authentic flavour of the life of the canal. The photograph, however, is tantalisingly free of that trace, one step removed from human touch, giving it the aura of time embalmed, at once alluring and distant, at once full of life and the knowledge of its passing.

The dialogue between photography, sculpture and painting, has in our own time, of course, a rich history. Think of Any Warhol’s famous screen prints of Marilyn Monroe, of Gerhard Richter’s series of blurred photo realist paintings. Perhaps most moving of all are Anselm Kiefer’s multitude of lead books, the ‘pages’ of which are endowed with photographic prints, seared and emulsified into the lead. Such ‘books’ Kiefer has, over the years, forged into installations: as mobile library shelves, as sculptural stacks, as the ‘cargo’ of lead model ships, which in turn are attached to monolithic canvases. Through the likes of Kiefer the contemporary artist has swallowed the photograph just as the whale swallowed Jonah, only for it to come out again as something new, an artefact transformed. And so here we are again with the ships; this time they are Kiefer’s: lead effigies of WWII, just as Turner’s ‘The Fighting Temeraire’ was an effigy of Waterloo.

This month, branch Chair, Jez Simms, describes how some Egret species began to visit Ireland regularly, one species even breeding here now.

It was not until the latter half of the last century that birders in Ireland began to regularly encounter a beautiful pure white heron known throughout Europe and Africa as the Little Egret. A bird so beautiful it was nearly wiped out in Europe in the 1800s due to the great demand for its breeding plumes to make ladies hats. The campaign to save the bird led to the formation of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) in 1889, now the largest bird conservation group in Europe with over a million members.

A rarity in Ireland up to the late seventies, the first ever Little Egret was recorded in County Cork in 1940, more and more kept arriving until they were finally confirmed as a breeding species in 1997 at Fota in Co. Cork. Nowadays these beautiful birds can be seen gracing most waterways, lakes and coastal areas in the country with a population, including wintering birds; of approximately 1,500 birds with a breeding population of around 500 pairs.

The next Egret to start regularly visiting Ireland is the Cattle Egret, slightly smaller and less elegant than the Little Egret, these birds are not exclusive to water margins but, as their name suggests, like to roam amongst cattle and other herbivores in quest of the flies and other insects they attract, returning to water margins to roost and sometimes hunt. The first one recorded in Ireland was at Kilkeran Lake in West Cork on March 7, 1976, and then there were only around 10 more records between then and 2006. In 2007 there was a massive influx of Cattle Egrets during the winter with around 80 birds arriving along the south and west coasts, forever changing its status in Ireland. It is now a regular late Autumn and Winter visitor to our shore with flocks of birds into the high twenties sometimes occurring here in West Cork.

But that’s not all folks, back in 1986 Ireland’s first ever Great White Egret was found in Cobh; this was a very early sign of another major Egret expansion with a big influx starting in the 2000s. They first bred in the UK in 2012 and are now well established in Ireland, particularly in Co. Cork. They can often be seen on wetlands and marshes; breeding is suspected but not confirmed yet. These are magnificent birds, pure white and the size of our Grey Heron, with a distinctive long yellowish bill, unlike the black bill of the Little Egret, so they are hard to miss. They are almost resident at the Gearagh Nature Reserve near Macroom, with numbers sometimes building into double figures in the Autumn and Winter. At White’s Marsh near Clonakilty, I have seen all three of our Egrets feeding together.

While not a true Egret, there is another bird which might be showing signs of following them, this is the mega rare Squacco Heron. It is Egret-like in flight with its pure white wings, but when in reeds or in foliage its beautiful buff and brown plumage can make it hard to spot. In recent years the odd one has shown up in Ireland and this year an unprecedented three have been seen with quite a few in the UK as well, so maybe they are following a similar pattern. So, check your field guides and bird apps and keep an eye out for all these truly beautiful birds.

BirdWatch Ireland West Cork Branch News

Our next events are:

July 12: Nature walk on Whiddy Island.

August 9: Timoleague Educational Garden.

Visit our website www.birdwatchirelandwestcork.ie for more information about these events. To receive news and reminders about our events join our mailing list by sending an email to mailinglist@birdwatchirelandwestcork.ie.

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