In 1941, the deadly Foot and Mouth disease spread rapidly through parts of County Kilkenny, including the Callan district. It especially threatened the Modeshill area in neighbouring County Tipperary.
The Bovine Angel of Death visited farmer James Ryan of Hugginstown, and Patrick Hoyne of Rathmoyle, Tullaroan after FMD seeped into their herds: The livestock they had worked so hard to rear for slaughter in the factories were instead condemned to an earlier demise in the open countryside.
As part of a major countrywide clampdown on cattle movements to contain the menace, the LDF was drafted in to man around-the clock observation posts at crossroads and other crucial locations. Department of Agriculture personnel tested herds and when any cow or bullock or other farm animal tested positive, the entire herd was exterminated.
Movement between farms was restricted, and all fairs, markets, and sporting fixtures deferred. Farmers were obliged to place containers of disinfectant at entrances to their lands. Any caller who failed to dip his or her feet in one of these troughs got a severe telling-off.
At Callan creamery similar precautions were enforced, with carts containing churns of milk, and the horses or donkeys pulling them, having to pass through hastily installed canals full of disinfectant.
Outside the entrances to the parish and Friary churches, special mats were laid for worshippers to tread upon on their way in to pray. Local wits spoke of having to cleanse their soles before going to Mass, but many people complained that the churches reeked of disinfectant.
At one juncture, the congregation noticed with a mixture of surprise and hilarity that a priest was wearing wellingtons as he celebrated Mass.
Some of the younger “worshippers” had difficulty keeping straight faces when their spiritual mentor plodded about awkwardly at communion time in the shining black wet wellingtons that reached up to his knees.
A local beekeeper claimed to have positioned tiny mats in front of the entrances to his hives and that he had trained the bees to wipe their feet on these before entering or flying out of their little abodes.
Sean Holden was invited by the beekeeper to witness this impressive instance of disease prevention through a magnifying glass. In an interview I conducted with him in the Cosy Inn pub in 2002, he confirmed that the two or three bees he observed at the hive entrance did appear to be disinfecting themselves in accordance with Department regulations.
On a more serious note… the farmers and their families affected, as well as any farm employees on the site of an outbreak, had to be quarantined. Little red flags dotted the boundaries of these farms, a dire warning to all would-be visitors or trespassers.
The inconvenience occasioned by this measure was nothing, though, compared to the shattering blow the farmers had suffered. Their carefully nurtured rural livelihoods were in tatters. Martin Lynch of Mallardstown remembered uniformed guards being posted at the entrances to farms in the Callan district, which added to the drama and sense of national panic.
The fact that the farmers could apply for compensation to cover their loss was a welcome relief, but the experience still had a lasting psychological impact on them.
Also distressing for the farmers and their families was the actual process of eliminating livestock suspected of harbouring the disease. They found it hard to stand by and watch their animals being slaughtered in the open air. Normally the livestock would be butchered in factories, “out of sight and out of mind”. To see the slaughter at close quarters genuinely shocked many farmers, and even more so their children.
Some of the soldiers drafted in to implement the killing programme were affected too by this demanding and bloody enterprise...
From: Are We Invaded Yet? by John Fitzgerald.
