Winging it over the field of play

A very pertinent question for the powers-that-do-be in Croke Park. Does this much-praised new grass pitch provide hearth, home and nourishment for worms and various tribes of earth-dwelling grubs?

Those of us who listen with mouth agape to experts like Gerry Daly on Or-Tay-Ay rah-dio are now able to button-hole people and show off our knowledge that earth needs proper ventilation. And the most natural form of airing is that provided by those little creatures that wriggle and burrow their way in the earth beneath the grass.

However, the most important reason for the presence of these denizens of the earthy underworld is to ensure sustenance for the blackbirds and robins that have been faithful attendees in Croke Park over the decades. These birds must not be neglected. The Árd Stiurthóir and his management team have a moral obligation to look after the winged creatures that have been a delightful feature of the stadium, in good weather and bad.

One of the most famous was an adventurous blackbird whose territory included the top left hand corner of the pitch under the old Cusack Stand at the Canal End. He always appeared for big games and took up his stance on the wire fence. This blackbird was something more than a casual spectator. He fluttered his wings with heightened interest when the sliotar came flying into his corner. The studded boots of the tussling corner back and forward often tore up the turf, uncovering the presence of nourishing worms. As soon as the ball went away and the two rival players moved away this blackbird descended for a late lunch.

The Squinting Eye observed him on one of the best days of his match-watching career. It had rained heavily on the Saturday before the big championship game between Wexford and Offaly. The pitch was soft. The conditions were ideal for feeding purposes. In the first half Teddy O’Connor of Wexford and the redoubtable Johnny Flaherty battled it out. These two small combative men tussled hard for those balls that were sent into that corner. Their boots left brown weals on the soft earth. The blackbird hardly waited for the two players to move away before he descended and feasted himself.

He foraged a little at half time but by that time he was sated and wanted no more than a fine sweet grub as a dessert. The blackbird was by no means a glutton and knew when he had had enough. He disappeared from the scene and had no further interest in the match. But before the teams re-emerged onto the field for the second half, a robin appeared and managed to find some left-overs in the scarred turf.

This little fellow then flew back to his perch on a big buddleja plant with its multitude of cone-shaped purple flowers that flourished wild at the back of the old Hogan stand. Especially in springtime and early summer his melodic, metallic song could be heard in the lulls when play was held up due to injury or for some other reason. His habitat and that of his descendants was swept away when the new stadium was under construction.

And it seems that the designers of the new Croke Park made no allowance for the seagulls that still have an important role to play in keeping the place tidy. Before those soaring cantilevered stands were built it was possible for seagulls to stand on the ridges at the topmost part of the old stands. From there they could not alone see the game in progress but keep an eye out for spectators eating chips and crisps and sandwiches; the gulls always knew that scraps and crumbs were there for the taking once the game was over and the crowd cleared away.

Actually the seagulls often perched in a neat row, perhaps twenty or more along the top ridges of the stands in early anticipation not just of the game but of some feed. At All Irelands they always seemed to be there. The peculiar thing was that they stood respectfully to attention during the playing and singing of the national anthem; however, when the great roar went up they all gave a simultaneous little hop.

The most conspicuous denizens of the old Croke Park were the feral pigeons that had their roosts in the framework of girders that held up the roofs. They fluttered about there, totally at ease with the crowds and the clamour below. However, especially at All Irelands, they were sometimes disturbed by the dreadful racket that was created when a goal was scored; then they flew out and away and did not return until the noise had died down.

Have those Croke Park pigeons now gone for good? The good news is that there are at least some survivors. On the day of the All Ireland hurling final one of them zipped with rapid wings over the upper level of the Hogan stand and then flew quickly into the stand at the Canal End. The Squinting Eye, sitting beside the brother from Scotland, spotted it.
“Hey, look at that pigeon will you”
“Where?”
“Up there near the top.”
“Let me see...”
A huge roar from the Cork crowd as Setanta O hAilpín scores his goal.
“Will you for Jaysus’ sake stop distracting me. I’m after missing that goal”

It took a few slugs of Bacardi rum from the silver hip-flask to restore the good feeling between them. In the meantime that pigeon roosted some place unseen and probably did not emerge until well after the final whistle sounded.