Winter Weather and the Weasels
by Peggy Hernon
The heat from Yankee’s (EI-AYN) port engine felt great at my back while I disembarked passengers from Aer Arann Islands’ 8.30am flight from Inverin. This was the third day of temperatures in the low single digits, but the wind chill reading on Inis Mór was minus three courtesy of a northwest wind blowing at a steady 18 knots. “Good morning”, I said into my woolly muffler, “It’s Inis Mor.” The passengers disembarked slowly, hampered by bulky clothing and lulled by the heat, hum & motion of the ten-minute flight. Once out in the stinging cold of the tarmac they found their feet and quickly scattered. The bank employees and the dentist and nurse trotted off to the bus, while the plumber and his assistant waited to be picked up next to the trolley that held their toolboxes.
I gave the weights of the departing load to the pilot while two crewmen eased a long narrow box containing an artificial Christmas tree out of the baggage bay at the back. The pilot told Dan there was a dead rabbit on the side of the 14 runway, “I didn’t hit it,” he said, “maybe hypothermia got it”. “Another rabbit?” said Dan frowning and he jumped into the jeep and headed up the runway to remove it.
One of my departing passengers was our student trainee off to an optometrist; his eyeglasses were held together across his nose with a wad of black electrical tape. “Football”, he explained unasked when I handed him his return ticket. The others were also island residents, regular travellers who were headed to Galway, perhaps to do some Christmas shopping. Regulars were a boon on this bitterly cold morning because they are familiar with the aircraft interior and with the seating procedure. They were all seated with seat belts fastened in just over two minutes.
Inside I got a mug of coffee with the crew and was defogging my specs when Dan came in the door and said, “You know that dead rabbit?” Three mugs met the counter with a clunk to wait out any gory details. “It’s the same dead rabbit I chucked over the near fence early this morning. I just took the jeep up there and saw it was the same old carcass but a weasel’s got it. The weasel is only about half its size, but he was pulling, tugging and jerking it along by inches toward the centre of the runway – little man with a mission. This time I took the carcass across the runway and threw it to the far fence, but I better not see it or him again.”
The weasels popped up one spring morning from a burrow at the far point of the fence across from the airport building. Shy creatures, we saw them only in early morning or late evening when they popped up out of the grass to look around, or look at us, with their front paws held against the white fur of their bellies. We kept an eye on them but they did no harm, and we learned that the presence of weasels meant the absence of mice, shrew, or God forbid, rats. I got to the airport early one morning for an 8.00am flight and Michael, the fire chief, was standing near the fire truck. He beckoned me over, gesturing for silence. A weasel pup was curled up asleep in the rubbery comfort of a windshield wiper with one urchin foot hanging down. Michael gently tapped the hood of the fire truck and the pup shot into the air screaming abuse at us and streaked off into the grass. The weasels left in late summer as suddenly as they came, but apparently they’ve moved to the grassy dunes along the runway, where I hope they don’t become a nuisance.
The wind shifted northerly and calmed a bit by 10.00am when Yankee (EI-AYN) brought in four visitors to Timpeallacht, the island recycling centre, and a good load of Post. At 10.30am, the regular Aer Arann flight that serves the smaller islands, dropped off two young patients and their mother from Inis Oirr, here to see the dentist who was holding a clinic.
Lunch today was early because at 1.45pm the four visitors to the recycling plant were to transfer to Inis Oirr along with the three returning home after their visit to the dentist. I was reading the newspaper when the abrupt scrape of chairs from the crew area made me look up. The snow flurries drew us outside like magnets. We stood at the fire truck and were joined by the Postman who had returned for a second load of parcels. We looked up and around and at each other, remembering the last snow storm some years back. It started with flurries and then it snowed heavily through the night. Bright sunshine the next day melted some of the snow, and when temperatures plunged that evening, the island froze solid. The snow froze in folds like white satin and every shrub was a spray of diamonds. It was as dangerous as it was beautiful. Steps, driveways, roads and runways were covered with a thick layer of ice. The island was closed down and cut off from the mainland for three days. Kids, dogs and one honeymoon couple loved it, but the rest of the island community was uneasy until the airport reopened and flights resumed. To island residents, Aer Arann’s service is more than convenient travel, it’s the link to goods or parts needed urgently, and most important, it’s fast access to mainland medical services in an emergency.
Dan took the fire truck to do a runway check and I trotted back inside to answer the phone. “No, just flurries, not sticking”, I said, with fingers crossed, to the caller, a passenger at 3.45pm. I called Inverin before the phone could ring again. “Yes,” said Mary “we have them here too” in a tone of voice that put snow flurries at par with head lice on the wish list of life. I could hear phones ringing in the background and the call waiting light on my phone was flashing, so we agreed to wait, watch and report later, which we did. It’s pointless to worry about weather conditions that are beyond our control, but the possibility of snow brought enough apprehension to turn our normal chatter into silence for the afternoon.
The flurries tapered off and disappeared. The airport bus driver dropped off seven passengers for the 1.45pm flight and three cartons of milk for the crew to take home, “just in case”. Charlie Echo (EI-BCE) departed on time for Inis Oirr. A burst of snow flurries greeted Yankee (EI-AYN) on arrival at 3.00pm bringing in a bridal group for a hen night at Ostan Arann, the island hotel. Dan did a runway check before EI-AYN departed at 3.15pm for Inverin, via Inis Meain, carrying the dentist & nurse and a couple who were returning from a short break.
There were two aircraft at 3.45pm. Yankee (EI-AYN) arrived first, bringing home half of the shoppers from this morning and a full trolley load of their purchases. Our student trainee hopped out of seat one looking dignified in a pair of horn rimmed specs. “Loaner frames” he explained unasked, “the real ones will be ready in two weeks”. Dan told the pilot about the weasel & carcass while I seated the bank employees, two nurses going off duty, and a teacher who’s a regular commuter. Charlie (EI-BCE) had just turned finals when I headed inside to ticket his passengers, a foursome of islanders going off on holidays, late and breathless, one of them clutching a pair of swim fins. The Locum handed me his ticket, and at the very last minute, the plumber and his assistant clattered in the door.
I stood at the fire truck with the crew to watch the aircraft taxi out and felt that for a short winter’s day, it had been a long one. We locked up and headed for the parking area with heads down against the wind. I looked back and in the glow of the halogen light over the door the snow flurries were beginning their dance again.
The heat from Yankee’s (EI-AYN) port engine felt great at my back while I disembarked passengers from Aer Arann Islands’ 8.30am flight from Inverin. This was the third day of temperatures in the low single digits, but the wind chill reading on Inis Mór was minus three courtesy of a northwest wind blowing at a steady 18 knots. “Good morning”, I said into my woolly muffler, “It’s Inis Mor.” The passengers disembarked slowly, hampered by bulky clothing and lulled by the heat, hum & motion of the ten-minute flight. Once out in the stinging cold of the tarmac they found their feet and quickly scattered. The bank employees and the dentist and nurse trotted off to the bus, while the plumber and his assistant waited to be picked up next to the trolley that held their toolboxes.
I gave the weights of the departing load to the pilot while two crewmen eased a long narrow box containing an artificial Christmas tree out of the baggage bay at the back. The pilot told Dan there was a dead rabbit on the side of the 14 runway, “I didn’t hit it,” he said, “maybe hypothermia got it”. “Another rabbit?” said Dan frowning and he jumped into the jeep and headed up the runway to remove it.
One of my departing passengers was our student trainee off to an optometrist; his eyeglasses were held together across his nose with a wad of black electrical tape. “Football”, he explained unasked when I handed him his return ticket. The others were also island residents, regular travellers who were headed to Galway, perhaps to do some Christmas shopping. Regulars were a boon on this bitterly cold morning because they are familiar with the aircraft interior and with the seating procedure. They were all seated with seat belts fastened in just over two minutes.
Inside I got a mug of coffee with the crew and was defogging my specs when Dan came in the door and said, “You know that dead rabbit?” Three mugs met the counter with a clunk to wait out any gory details. “It’s the same dead rabbit I chucked over the near fence early this morning. I just took the jeep up there and saw it was the same old carcass but a weasel’s got it. The weasel is only about half its size, but he was pulling, tugging and jerking it along by inches toward the centre of the runway – little man with a mission. This time I took the carcass across the runway and threw it to the far fence, but I better not see it or him again.”
The weasels popped up one spring morning from a burrow at the far point of the fence across from the airport building. Shy creatures, we saw them only in early morning or late evening when they popped up out of the grass to look around, or look at us, with their front paws held against the white fur of their bellies. We kept an eye on them but they did no harm, and we learned that the presence of weasels meant the absence of mice, shrew, or God forbid, rats. I got to the airport early one morning for an 8.00am flight and Michael, the fire chief, was standing near the fire truck. He beckoned me over, gesturing for silence. A weasel pup was curled up asleep in the rubbery comfort of a windshield wiper with one urchin foot hanging down. Michael gently tapped the hood of the fire truck and the pup shot into the air screaming abuse at us and streaked off into the grass. The weasels left in late summer as suddenly as they came, but apparently they’ve moved to the grassy dunes along the runway, where I hope they don’t become a nuisance.
The wind shifted northerly and calmed a bit by 10.00am when Yankee (EI-AYN) brought in four visitors to Timpeallacht, the island recycling centre, and a good load of Post. At 10.30am, the regular Aer Arann flight that serves the smaller islands, dropped off two young patients and their mother from Inis Oirr, here to see the dentist who was holding a clinic.
Lunch today was early because at 1.45pm the four visitors to the recycling plant were to transfer to Inis Oirr along with the three returning home after their visit to the dentist. I was reading the newspaper when the abrupt scrape of chairs from the crew area made me look up. The snow flurries drew us outside like magnets. We stood at the fire truck and were joined by the Postman who had returned for a second load of parcels. We looked up and around and at each other, remembering the last snow storm some years back. It started with flurries and then it snowed heavily through the night. Bright sunshine the next day melted some of the snow, and when temperatures plunged that evening, the island froze solid. The snow froze in folds like white satin and every shrub was a spray of diamonds. It was as dangerous as it was beautiful. Steps, driveways, roads and runways were covered with a thick layer of ice. The island was closed down and cut off from the mainland for three days. Kids, dogs and one honeymoon couple loved it, but the rest of the island community was uneasy until the airport reopened and flights resumed. To island residents, Aer Arann’s service is more than convenient travel, it’s the link to goods or parts needed urgently, and most important, it’s fast access to mainland medical services in an emergency.
Dan took the fire truck to do a runway check and I trotted back inside to answer the phone. “No, just flurries, not sticking”, I said, with fingers crossed, to the caller, a passenger at 3.45pm. I called Inverin before the phone could ring again. “Yes,” said Mary “we have them here too” in a tone of voice that put snow flurries at par with head lice on the wish list of life. I could hear phones ringing in the background and the call waiting light on my phone was flashing, so we agreed to wait, watch and report later, which we did. It’s pointless to worry about weather conditions that are beyond our control, but the possibility of snow brought enough apprehension to turn our normal chatter into silence for the afternoon.
The flurries tapered off and disappeared. The airport bus driver dropped off seven passengers for the 1.45pm flight and three cartons of milk for the crew to take home, “just in case”. Charlie Echo (EI-BCE) departed on time for Inis Oirr. A burst of snow flurries greeted Yankee (EI-AYN) on arrival at 3.00pm bringing in a bridal group for a hen night at Ostan Arann, the island hotel. Dan did a runway check before EI-AYN departed at 3.15pm for Inverin, via Inis Meain, carrying the dentist & nurse and a couple who were returning from a short break.
There were two aircraft at 3.45pm. Yankee (EI-AYN) arrived first, bringing home half of the shoppers from this morning and a full trolley load of their purchases. Our student trainee hopped out of seat one looking dignified in a pair of horn rimmed specs. “Loaner frames” he explained unasked, “the real ones will be ready in two weeks”. Dan told the pilot about the weasel & carcass while I seated the bank employees, two nurses going off duty, and a teacher who’s a regular commuter. Charlie (EI-BCE) had just turned finals when I headed inside to ticket his passengers, a foursome of islanders going off on holidays, late and breathless, one of them clutching a pair of swim fins. The Locum handed me his ticket, and at the very last minute, the plumber and his assistant clattered in the door.
I stood at the fire truck with the crew to watch the aircraft taxi out and felt that for a short winter’s day, it had been a long one. We locked up and headed for the parking area with heads down against the wind. I looked back and in the glow of the halogen light over the door the snow flurries were beginning their dance again.
