2006-05-11T17:35:00.000-07:00

When I think back now from my pensionable position a fine October morning comes to mind - this was the day the pig was to be killed !. We killed one pig every year for our household needs in Clohanbeg. The pig had been starved for a day or two beforehand. The preperation involved transporting the main kitchen table to the disused garage, positionong it under two rafters and scrubbing it down.

The first thing to be done on the faithful morning was have the large wooden barrel ready and partially filled with boiling water. Everybody anticipated the arrival of Miko Corry, the local butcher and one or two 'executioner' neighbours . At 10-o-clock the black bicycle & ratteling tools were heard coming in the avenue. As Miko placed his bike against the wall he was greeted with a bottle of Guiness which he polished off enthusiasticly!. Like a seurgon approaching his task he unfolded a brownish tool-holdall which he had untied from the carrier of the bicycle.

One of the tools in Miko's armary was a long handle with a rope-noose attached at one end this was called a Gaff. The purpose of this tool was to secure the rope noose arount the pigs snout and rotate the handle so that the pigs head was held steady.

Three to four neighbours proceeded to the pig-shed, secured the Gaff in place and dragged the pig out into the yard for slaughter. Neighbours were now holding the animal and it was here that another tool, the heavy wooden Mallet was produced. A bolt was then held at the animals forhead by one of the men while Miko proceeded to draw heavy blows. The bolt entered the pigs forehead to almighty screeching and groans.

The pig died after a few minutes and was then loaded onto the large wooden table in the car-house shed. The carcase was turned on its side while Miko produced his long , sharp and deadly butcher's knife. While Mam and neighbour were on standby with a white enamel bucket, the sharp knife was stuck into the dead pig's throat and a long slit cut. Blood came gushing out

(To be continued)

Memories of a Clare Childhood