It's all relative

What I've been thinking about this week:
1. Names
2. Relatives

I am endlessly fascinated by names: new names; old names; made up names. Although I suppose all names were made up once upon a time. 

Names tell stories. After I was born, my mum was on the phone and looking at the bookcase. She saw a book by Rebecca West and my name was decided. My middle name came from both my grannies (and I've also got an extra middle name I crammed in pretentiously after I got divorced. But that's another story). 

One of my favourite stories about names comes from my Dad's Mum's family. There was a tradition to call the first daughter Anne then add all the previous maiden names as middle names. My Gran's full name was Anne Black Macrae Wood Hanning Giblin. Thankfully she put a stop to it, otherwise my cousin Shelagh would have been Anne Black Macrae Wood Hanning Giblin Page Johnson. She'd never have been able to fit that on a form. 

"Enough is enough!"

And obviously, Ivie's name is a conversation starter. I've listened to him explain to lots of people where it comes from and that no, it's not short for anything. He's as patient as if it was the first time he's been asked and always says how well having an unusual name has served him over the years. 

He's the reason I've been thinking about names, really. As you'll know, I'm not a details person so often ask the same question more than once. I asked Ivie if his middle name was after someone in his family and he said (with slightly less patience than if someone else had asked him about his first name), "Yes (sigh). My Uncle."

Me: "Have I met him?"

Him: "No (sigh). You met his widow at the wedding reception."

Let me tell you about the wedding reception. It took place a couple of years ago and was for one of Ivie's many cousins' many children. The following weekend, we were invited to a 21st for one of Ivie's many cousins' many children on the other side of the family. 

This called for a tractor date, notebook and pencil and an attempt to:

1. understand Ivie's family tree; and

2. draw it whilst in a shoogly tractor. 

Gratuitous stationery shot

I thought I was doing quite well keeping up until Ivie dropped what I like to call the Barbara Bombshell. Barbara (who we met in Not a WAG), has two sisters - one is married to a Fisher cousin and the other is engaged to a cousin on the other side of the family. You can see why this is so complicated and why it's just as well that none of my cousins live in Wigtownshire. 

It's also just as well that we've only had the responsibility of naming a dog. Even then we managed to - inadvertently - name her after Trump's lawyer. Sigh.

Rudolph William Louis Giuliani Rudi

A rose by any other name

 What I've been thinking about this week. 

1. Some farm animals have names.
2. I don't know what the rules are. 

I was used to the idea that pets have names and livestock doesn't. But I've realised that's not always the case. 

Some of the simmentals at the Spittal have names and their offspring appear to be given names beginning with the same letter. Livestock 'Literation, if you like. 

Here's Lily and Lupy. When Lupy was born, Lily was endless, kicking her when she went in to feed and generally not paying much attention to her beautiful new baby. 

Lily and Lupy

I felt quite sorry for Lupy and now when I go with Ivie to check cows, I keep a look out so I can say hello and give her a wee noogie on the head. She's used to human interaction as there was a fair bit when she was born to make sure she got enough milk in those first few days. 

Lupy last month
(I was equally chuffed and disturbed that I recognised her from the photo)

It's all made me wonder if we somehow have more feelings about the animals with names, like being sympathetic towards them, imagining they're pleased to see us or giving them credit for deeper thoughts than, "Am I hungry? Am I in immediate danger?".

There's even a word for it: anthropomorphise: attribute human characteristics to a god, animal or object.

(I've just been in a Google black hole that was starting to get a bit scientific before being balanced out by pictures of Disney characters).

As I say I haven't quite worked out which animals get names and which don't and why. And whether farmers are softer about the animals with names or equally unmoved by all of them. 

Mind you, no-one feels soppy about the bulls as far as I can make out. They seem to be treated a bit like farm machinery that's only worth its keep if it keeps up its end of the deal. As it were. 

Their official names are all double-barrelled and wouldn't be out of place in the Kennel Club. The bulls themselves would be out of place, right enough. That would make Crufts a very different proposition. The only one I can remember is Gretnahouse Black Bat (see here for Mairi's great photo being used in a feed ad). (He's the one I call William, but that's another story). 

So, after all this ramble, I'm none the wiser. Answers on a postcard, please. 

I just hope Lupy doesn't get upset when she finds out I've been talking about her behind her back...

I Name This Field

Things I Didn't Know
1. Fields have names
2. That's not always useful

Not long after I started seeing Ivie, my friend Sheena casually dropped into conversation that fields have names. 

Isa looking at a field

"What?" I asked idly before realising that, of course, that makes sense. If it was up to me to describe places on the farm, it would probably be along the lines of:

• that field where the sheep was on its back. I was wearing my blue jumper. It might have been a Tuesday.
• that field we were in when you told me that joke about Iceland. The supermarket, not the country. 
• the field where you asked me if I wanted to drive the quad bike and I said no. 

Ivie in a field

So, as you can see, it's much better that fields have names. 

When I asked Ivie about the names of the fields at the Spittal he reeled off a list of names, some that made more sense than others. 

• Papa's Park. His Papa? Nope, it was already called that when Ivie Snr bought the farm in the 60s. 
• The Cairn Field. At least there's actually a cairn in it. 
• The Top of the 50 Acre and The Bottom of the 50 Acre (I didn't get a satisfactory answer to why they're not called the Top 25 and Bottom 25).
• High Piquant and Low Piquant. These aren't the real names but there are definitely Ps and Qs in there somewhere. 
• The House Field. It's in front of the house. Obviously. 
• I think there might also be one called the Keystone which is in the middle. Possibly...
• The Dandy Field. I made that one up. But I kinda like it. 

Cows in a field

As you can tell by the captions on the photos, my learning is progressing well. I'd be interested to hear from other farm residents what their fields are called and to see if they make any more sense.