COLUMN: 'I looked up to the sky and cried...and then something happened'

In 2022, as we broke ground on our house, I started feeding the wild birds at the site every Saturday morning with my son, Jack. 

It was and is our “job” and we do it every day now that we are in the house.  And the birds are hungry right now, I can’t keep seeds in the feeders. 

The “job” trick helps with getting Jack dressed in the morning. 

I say: “Let’s get dressed buddy, we’ve lots of jobs to do outside…” 

Generally there is then less of a fight about getting clothes on for school. It is clothes on for our “jobs”.  

So, from the very first week we broke ground, we have been feeding the birds.  

There are trees and bushes all around the house and they’re still there eighteen months on. 

They’re littered with bird feeders and one birdhouse. 

COLUMN: 'I don't remember much of what happened in the minutes after the kill'

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT

But from day one, there was this beautiful and bold little Robin there and as the months went on and the feeders kept getting refilled, the Robin got fatter and fatter.

I only ever saw this one Robin at the site, along with all the other birds like the Blue Tit that nested in my birdhouse the first summer - which I hear is unusual as normally birds take a while before committing to something man-made like that. 

It was strangely comforting that the overweight Robin was a constant presence.  

Fast-forward to this winter and we are in our new home and busy feeding birds and killing mice. 

The Templemore correspondent for the Tipperary Star, Ronan Loughnane, is a pure gentleman and just an all round thoughtful and hardworking guy. 

His Templemore pages in the Star are always an example of exemplary community reportage. 

After my column on the mouse problems, Ronan WhatsApped me (he is sound like that) and said a great way of dealing with mice is to kill them before they get in. 

Traps, poison etc. outside would address the problem before it is a problem inside. 

I loved this idea, take the fight outside. I wanted every mouse in a four-mile radius dead. 

I went about putting poison in pipes (not in coffee lids on window sills - which I originally did before my father quickly chastised me and alleged it was an  attempt at a mass killing of the local bird population). 

I also laid several traps strategically outside and the first two nights, it was a glorious massacre. 

Mice dead outside the house, mice dead in the car. 

I am wasteful of traps. Once a trap kills a mouse, I throw it away as I can’t be dealing with taking the dead vermin off of it and using it again.   I just fire it all in the bin and buy more traps. 

At €2.99 a go, it isn’t sustainable.  So, Sunday evening we were taking the kids for a walk, I had all my traps set for the night to come, but I did  a quick scan of them and noticed something behind the house.  

It was  a trap with something in it... 

First of all, it was about ten foot from where I set it and as I got closer I noticed that it was not a mouse that was in it...it was a  bird; beak down on the trap.  

I already knew which bird before I turned it over. I looked up to the sky and cried. 

I shouted to Audrey and the kids not to come over and to go for their walk as I thought the sight of the red-breasted bird would upset Jack. Audrey asked what was in it and I barely managed to utter: “Our beautiful little Robin...” 

To be honest, I was surprised by how upset I was, perhaps the pressure of housebuilding had - if you excuse the pun - built up over the years and the Robin was some semblance of  calm in the storm.

He signified all that was peaceful and beautiful about what we were trying to build for us and our kids’ future and now he was gone.

And with his death, the shroud of magic and excitement that surrounded the house faded slightly as well.     

The tears streamed down my face as Audrey headed off down the lane with the kids. 

I turned the trap  over and made the decision to take the little bird out of it .  This elegant and graceful  creature, this companion, would not suffer the indignity of being thrown into a bin in a mouse trap.

I would bury him and mark his grave: “Robin”.

And then, something happened...

Part two next week