Accosted by Sheep On The Lam
One of our goals on this journey was to seek out and photograph old Irish fishing ports
Places where the landscape still carries the marks of generations who made their living from the sea.
This was certainly one of them.
Weathered, battered, and wonderfully rugged, the harbor seemed to reflect the hard life of Irish fishing.
Concrete walls rose starkly from the shoreline, while the exposed seabed revealed just how treacherous the harbor could become at low tide.
Yet a few working boats remained, reminders that the fishing tradition here had not entirely disappeared.
As we watched, a van pulled up and a gentleman walked into the old cold-storage facility. It was a small, almost incidental moment, but one that suggested that there was still some life—and perhaps some hope—left in the local fishing industry.
The following images illustrate the history and a reflection of how important the sea is for the viability of the Irish people.
Leaving the harbor, we followed a narrow lane that soon brought our progress to a rather unexpected halt.
A van was stopped in the road, and a farmer was attempting to move a flock of sheep from one field to another.
There was no sense of urgency. The sheep moved when they were ready, and the farmer patiently worked with them.
Eventually, he managed to get them about 150 meters down the road and out of our way.
Or so we thought.
One particularly independent ewe decided that leaving the flock was a much better idea. She turned around and began marching purposefully back in our direction.
Tracy, in her best Southern drawl, delivered the appropriate command: “Go on, git outta here!”
The ewe was rather unimpressed.
This little exchange happened several times. The ewe would walk away and return and again, as if on a mission.
Each time the farmer would gather the sheep, the renegade ewe would break ranks, and the parade would begin again. Even the farmer’s young dog seemed unable to convince her that following the flock was the proper thing to do.
Then, quite suddenly, the entire flock seemed to take an interest in us.
They turned as one and began moving toward the car—first at a walk, then at a determined trot, and finally at what appeared to be a full-on charge.
Under siege by Ewe!
Fortunately, a car is considerably larger than a sheep.
We slowly eased forward as the flock scattered around us. Eventually, the farmer was able to get everyone moving in the right direction and gave us a cheerful thumbs-up as we passed.
It was certainly not the harbor encounter we had set out to photograph—but it turned into one of those wonderfully unscripted moments that make a journey memorable.
Fortunately we captured the onslaught on camera before there was a crisis!.
