- Location
- Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk
Autumn must be upon us, the blasted mice have re-invaded the farmhouse. The smaller of the two kitchen terrierists-Poppy- is spending a lot of time under one the sink unit, from where occasional squeaking can be heard. Pity she can’t get up onto the worktop upon which rests the fruit bowls-these are multiple, to accommodate my son, who consumes barrow loads of victuals generally, and especially great quantities of fruit. And so does Minnie the Mouse it seems, liking to nibble a bit off each piece as she goes. Whether the boy will notice the traps as he grazes is unknown….I daresay we’ll hear about it soon enough.
Meanwhile, there’s also evidence of an infestation in the living room – of mice, rather than the usual teenagers. I’ve set a trap behind the sofa, which is getting some action. Worryingly, whoever has been coming along 2nd is not only taking the uneaten bait – the first arrival always seems to lose their appetite once the trap is sprung- but is also chewing great holes in the departed first arrival. Last night’s victim disappeared completely, leaving only some fresh bloody streaks on the trap which had moved 3 feet. This is a new development I’m not altogether happy with. What lurks under the sofa?
Elsewhere, I’ve been half listening to reports about medical advances utilising stem cells, which continue to reach into unlikely corners. The latest, fixing a patient’s previously unfixable knackered eyes, has opened yet more doors. The list of things stem cell science has the potential to mend is extraordinary, and I suspect we’re only just hearing about it. The origin of the raw material is a bit of a moral maze, with one of the simplest and best sources being embryonic stem cells, which is obviously pretty difficult territory to negotiate. Different countries have different protocols on such things, leading to disparity in research. Happily, there are other less contentious sources being increasingly explored. Growing new organs could happen one day, which I suppose would be useful if you can’t lay off the sauce and your liver packs up.
Less likely are whole replacement digits/limbs, although that’d be handy for twits like me who toil with an unlikely mix of large animals and dangerous machinery. I’d tell you more about it, but the information superhighway is more like a rutted cart track up here today, and I can’t recall what I’ve been reading. Sorry.
Now, here’s a good wheeze for you. While a few of us were responding to a TB consultation backalong, I had a brief inspiration. As well as my earnest and carefully considered thoughts on the matter, I’ve suggested DEFRA set up an art installation, on, say, the side of the roundabout at J30 of the M5. It will take the form of a large cage –heavy mesh all round- into which will be placed 20-30 infected badgers, a supply of fresh water- I’m not a monster you know- and one of those nice Badgerists. That Dominic Dyer chap, he really likes badgers doesn’t he? Should the number of occupants start to drop for any reason, the public could vote for replacements from a list I’ll supply. Chris Packham and that guitarist bozo will obviously be high on the list.
In the interests of fairness, I suppose we should explore the alternative version of this exercise, where someone from my community might be left in a mesh bottomed cage, with a cow- or possibly a goat. And here’s the thing. Given a big enough-or mobile- cage, set on a sheltered grassy bank with a water supply, and something to convert grass to milk, this version could run quite happily for some months. Obviously, we’d have to ensure no risk of TB infection from the other blessed cage, but we could manage that.
And if occupants happen to be in breeding pairs, the experiment might run…..well, as it happens, it’s already been done, and is still stumbling along some thousands of years later.
I was going to explore whether, by extending systems support for a while, a suitable mindset would lead to the human occupants in ‘cage one’ to somehow domesticate badgers. But I realise you’d just say I was being silly now, and I should get back to work. Fair enough.
Later dude.
About the author
Originally published in The Western Morning News, these articles are reproduced for the enjoyment of TFF members World-wide by kind permission of the author Anton Coaker and the WMN
Anton Coaker is a fifth generation farmer keeping suckler cows and flocks of hill sheep high on the Forest of Dartmoor and running a hardwood and mobile sawmill.
A prodigious writer and regular correspondent for The Western Morning News, NFU and The Farming Forum, Anton’s second book “The Complete Bullocks” is available from www.anton-coaker.co.uk
Meanwhile, there’s also evidence of an infestation in the living room – of mice, rather than the usual teenagers. I’ve set a trap behind the sofa, which is getting some action. Worryingly, whoever has been coming along 2nd is not only taking the uneaten bait – the first arrival always seems to lose their appetite once the trap is sprung- but is also chewing great holes in the departed first arrival. Last night’s victim disappeared completely, leaving only some fresh bloody streaks on the trap which had moved 3 feet. This is a new development I’m not altogether happy with. What lurks under the sofa?
Elsewhere, I’ve been half listening to reports about medical advances utilising stem cells, which continue to reach into unlikely corners. The latest, fixing a patient’s previously unfixable knackered eyes, has opened yet more doors. The list of things stem cell science has the potential to mend is extraordinary, and I suspect we’re only just hearing about it. The origin of the raw material is a bit of a moral maze, with one of the simplest and best sources being embryonic stem cells, which is obviously pretty difficult territory to negotiate. Different countries have different protocols on such things, leading to disparity in research. Happily, there are other less contentious sources being increasingly explored. Growing new organs could happen one day, which I suppose would be useful if you can’t lay off the sauce and your liver packs up.
Less likely are whole replacement digits/limbs, although that’d be handy for twits like me who toil with an unlikely mix of large animals and dangerous machinery. I’d tell you more about it, but the information superhighway is more like a rutted cart track up here today, and I can’t recall what I’ve been reading. Sorry.
Now, here’s a good wheeze for you. While a few of us were responding to a TB consultation backalong, I had a brief inspiration. As well as my earnest and carefully considered thoughts on the matter, I’ve suggested DEFRA set up an art installation, on, say, the side of the roundabout at J30 of the M5. It will take the form of a large cage –heavy mesh all round- into which will be placed 20-30 infected badgers, a supply of fresh water- I’m not a monster you know- and one of those nice Badgerists. That Dominic Dyer chap, he really likes badgers doesn’t he? Should the number of occupants start to drop for any reason, the public could vote for replacements from a list I’ll supply. Chris Packham and that guitarist bozo will obviously be high on the list.
In the interests of fairness, I suppose we should explore the alternative version of this exercise, where someone from my community might be left in a mesh bottomed cage, with a cow- or possibly a goat. And here’s the thing. Given a big enough-or mobile- cage, set on a sheltered grassy bank with a water supply, and something to convert grass to milk, this version could run quite happily for some months. Obviously, we’d have to ensure no risk of TB infection from the other blessed cage, but we could manage that.
And if occupants happen to be in breeding pairs, the experiment might run…..well, as it happens, it’s already been done, and is still stumbling along some thousands of years later.
I was going to explore whether, by extending systems support for a while, a suitable mindset would lead to the human occupants in ‘cage one’ to somehow domesticate badgers. But I realise you’d just say I was being silly now, and I should get back to work. Fair enough.
Later dude.
About the author
Originally published in The Western Morning News, these articles are reproduced for the enjoyment of TFF members World-wide by kind permission of the author Anton Coaker and the WMN
Anton Coaker is a fifth generation farmer keeping suckler cows and flocks of hill sheep high on the Forest of Dartmoor and running a hardwood and mobile sawmill.
A prodigious writer and regular correspondent for The Western Morning News, NFU and The Farming Forum, Anton’s second book “The Complete Bullocks” is available from www.anton-coaker.co.uk