Consult – by all means – but it is important that we listen as well
IT’S good to talk. How many times have you heard that recently?
A lot, but, I agree and, even if it is to yourself, it helps.
Many a time I have found myself wandering around the milking parlour with ideas going around inside my head, only to realise I was having a conversation with someone.
Explaining that you cannot do it that way; it costs too much money or no one would agree.
The cows, meanwhile would contently chew their cud, “as long as your hands are warm, mate”.
Bellies full, udders empty, they would wander off into their own little world, leaving the little man to sort out where their next feed is coming from.
I think DEFRA agree with the sentiment: they are always wanting to talk, sorry, consult.
In the past two years, I have counted 14, from ones affecting a particular area such as the future of Kielder Forest to nationwide ones such as flooding and the 25-year Environment Bill.
Some are short and easy; tick yes, no, don’t know. Others are long and complicated, worth at least two headaches.
In some cases, DEFRA are extremely helpful, and they will outline a number of scenarios; the lower the number, the less choice the correspondent has and to help further DEFRA usually indicates a “Preferred Option”.
Preferred by whom, one has to ask. Of course, these consultations are not just for farming, but are open to all (the F in DEFRA does not stand for farming). This can lead to a diverse reply.
Everyone should be able to express their opinion.
But perhaps we should be careful that the voice of those in the line of fire should still be heard.
I WAS set a challenge by a work colleague to write about the lamprey.
As a keen angler I assume he’d come in contact with this very primitive-looking creature. Lamprey have been around a long time apparently around 300 million years.
They are remarkable creatures, but good looks are not one of their characteristics.
They also have some nasty parasitic habits and are known as the vampire fish as they suck blood from fish.
This makes them ideal bait as they are full of blood.
It is a myth that they attack humans although in one interesting story from ancient times, a Roman senator Vedius Pollio kept a pool of starved lampreys into which he would throw inept servants or political adversaries who displeased him.
Whether this is true or not, obviously, even dating back to antiquity, people had reason to fear an attack. There are three species: brook, river and sea lampreys. The first is small and never leaves fresh water.
Locally it has been seen in the Dove, while the river and sea lampreys develop into much nastier beasts that suck the life out of fish.
All start life looking rather like a tadpole. They float downstream until finding a suitably muddy spot to burrow into.
They then live in the mire for up to five years, feeding on algae and small organic particles.
The brook lamprey, having led a blameless life, then turns into an adult and breeds, but river and sea lampreys set off to the sea having developed vicious rows of teeth.
Most famously, historically speaking is a ‘surfeit’ of them killed off the medieval English king Henry I, who succumbed to his favourite dish while in Normandy in 1135.
He was warned off the meal by a physician as they were past their ‘sell-by date.’
Seafood held a fatal attraction for medieval kings, rather reminiscent of the way that clam bars proved deadly to Mafiosi ‘capo di capo’ in New York in the 1970s.
I am told that mobsters always prefer to sit so that they have a good view of who is coming through the door.
And returning to the theme of deadly seafood resulting in dynastic problems, another principal figure in medieval English history Eustace IV of Boulogne and heir apparent to the English throne choked to death on a plate of eels in 1153 after a raid on an abbey in East Anglia. It was thought God’s punishment.
King John, 50 years later, fined the city of Gloucester 40 marks (about £250,000) for failing to deliver the annual gift of a lamprey pie at Christmas – and it continued with the tradition delivering an annual royal pie until 1836, and since then for special events as they did for the Queen’s coronation in 1953.
The scarcity of lampreys meant the last Gloucester pie in 2012 had to be made of lamprey from North America.