In Search of the Missing Page 21

  Meanwhile, at Mass that Sunday morning in the local church, the priest had asked farmers with land under the mountain to check their farms for the missing tourist. When they went home, one particular farmer and his son noticed grey crows circling and feeding. They knew this signalled a carcass of some sort. The son climbed up a rock face on the mountain and reached the ledge where the crows had gathered. Sure enough, he found the missing German there. He had slipped and fallen to his death.

  When the farmer’s son tried to get back down, he could not. His father went for help. All the searchers were still on the mountain. We were told by walkie-talkie that the missing man was found and that the farmer’s son was now in trouble. I checked my map for the area and headed off on a three-mile trek across the mountain. When I got to the spot, many of the other searchers were already there. The body had been laid out on a stretcher, with the farmer’s son among those standing nearby, having been rescued from the ledge by the searchers.

  Having said some prayers, we set off in a slow procession, taking it in turns to carry down the remains of a man who had so loved the mountain on which he lost his life. Our thoughts were with his wife, who was waiting for his return back in Cloghane, the village where we had buried Rizzo years before. We were nearing Cloghane when we came across pieces of metal. Being well versed in local history, Con Moriarty immediately identified them as parts of planes used in the Second World War, including a section of a wing. Finding them took me back in time to my grandmother’s house in Knockraha when a shower of ammunition came crashing down from the ceiling. But this find did more than simply transport me back to my youth: just like the death of the German tourist, it hammered home to me the fragility of life for all of us, always.

  The German had died on the mountain. The farmer’s son had got into serious difficulty. I had come close to death, too, and was still shivering at the thought of what might have been. But I never breathed a word to anyone about the danger I had brought upon myself – not then, not for a very long time afterwards. I was too ashamed.

  We walked on. Con was still recalling snippets of history, such as the fact that hundreds of years ago local tribesmen imprisoned men in caves under Carrauntoohil, and that people shouldered coffins and walked their animals to the fair over the Windy Road, leaving a pathway at one side of the valley that is visible to this very day. I could hear all that he was saying, but my mind was elsewhere. I was still back on that vertical slope overlooking the water, sweating, struggling to make my way up.

  Appendix: Bloodhounds and Bloodlines

  At the age of two, Belle became an Irish show cham-pion, and in so doing became the first bloodhound champion in Ireland in forty years. She became an annual champion in 2008, so is now titled Irish Champion Cáilín Álainn at Andorra Annual Champion 08.

  The bloodhound community is very small and also very strict. Bloodhounds are the most controlled breed I’ve ever come across. We cannot breed a female dog without going back to the original breeder for a recommendation on a suitable sire. This rule was drawn up to ensure that puppy farming or breeding for money does not happen. Pups can only be sold for a price set by the bloodhound club. We must sign and obey the club’s code of ethics. Pups must be given health checks and X-rayed for defects.

  In 2009, when Belle gave birth to her pups, breeders arrived from all over the world, among them Eileen Peers from Cilgwri Bloodhounds in Wales and Ruth Avery of Millvery Bloodhounds in England. Sherry Robertson of Andorra Kennels flew over from Prunedale in California, and Lyn Sherman, president of the American Bloodhound Association, also came over. Sherry decided to take a pup – a female Áine had named Princess because she seemed to have an air of royalty about her, the same way Lucy had when she arrived from Sue and Nick’s. Sherry knew all the history of Badgershill, and is always impressed by the work we do. She became very emotional when she heard about Lucy’s success in Bandon during the search for the missing woman from east Cork, and she and Áine spent hours on the phone crying about the family left behind. She chose the name Badgershill East of Eden. Lyn picked the pup believed at the time to be the best of the litter – Badgershill Muldoon of Heather – although you can never be certain. Heather Whitcomb came from Canada. She is one of the top breeders in both Canada and the US, and reached this level with only one or two litters a year. Her kennels, Heather’s Hounds, is very prominent in the bloodhound world. She assessed the pups and chose the ones to give to the Americans as they valued her expertise and had asked her to make the selection. Among the breeders she selected for was Susan La-Croix Hamil, owner of Quiet Creek Kennels and also one of the top breeders in the US. She was given a female pup: Badgershill Lady of Quiet Creek.

  One of the litter – a female named Badgershill Rev. Awdry, named after the creator of Thomas the Tank Engine – went to Irene Clewes, another well-known person in the bloodhound world, while Badgershill Keats, known as Henry, was taken by Sarah Tye, also from England. Sue and Nick Wheeler – the breeders from East Sussex who gave Lucy to Áine – took Badgershill Kavanagh of Far Cry, a male pup known as Curruthers, while Antero Holappa from Finland became the owner of Badgershill John B. We’ve since received clips of John B. trudging happily along through a foot of snow in Finland, and we were sent a glossy magazine, American Bloodhounds Club Bulletin, with a two-page spread on the four pups we sent to America.

  The pup chosen by Lyn Sherman and believed to be the pick of the litter became an American champion at the age of just eight months. Two other pups in the US – East of Eden and Emily Brontë, owned by Lisa McCall – walked off with prizes at the AKC Eukanuba National Championship 2009, winning first and second in the bloodhound section for six-to-eight-month-old bitches.

  Dogs begin a show career by starting out on the bottom rung of the ladder and work their way up to hopefully becoming a champion. To earn an AKC (American Kennel Club) champion title and the right to place the letters CH before their names, they must win fifteen points at AKC dog shows. The AKC – a not-for-profit organisation – is the oldest pure-bred registry in the US. Its show serves as the only all-breed qualifying show in the US for entry into Crufts, which is the world’s largest dog show.

  At AKC Eukanuba championships, points are won by defeating other dogs of the same sex and breed in classes held especially for non-champions. At every dog show, championship points are awarded to only one male dog and one female dog in each breed. Once dogs have clocked up fifteen points, they earn the title of CH. One of our pups in the US is now only eleven points away from becoming a champion.

  If dogs continue to show having earned the CH status, they are often referred to as ‘specials’, which means that they will compete at the national level against other champions, usually with the aim of reaching a top ranking in their particular breed. Breed points are used to establish a dog’s national ranking. All points are recorded by the AKC. The number of points awarded depends on how many dogs are defeated in the dog’s own breed, with one point being awarded for each dog defeated. So if a dog defeats thirty dogs to win the title of Best of Breed then that dog earns thirty points.

  Acknowledgements

  Patricia Ahern

  Many people helped bring this book to fruition, and I would like to thank everyone involved.

  To the families of missing persons: you were my initial inspiration to write a book of this nature.

  To Mick: your passion for dogs and your expertise set you apart, and, combined with your openness, humility, sense of humour and the way in which you empathise with others, make you a writer’s dream. Thank you for the privilege of writing the book with you, for sharing your life story, for the endless hours of conversation, and for your patience always.

  To Áine: you made a huge contribution to this book, and were more than generous with your time. Thank you especially for your enthusiasm, for all the chat, and constant flow of e-mails.

  Thanks also to the following: Irish Search Dogs for bringing Mick to my attention by writing about him in a loca
l newsletter; Mercier Press for publishing the book, and to everybody there, as well as Dominic and Hannah, for their support and hard work; Glen Barton of Glen Barton Photography (Corroy, Church Hill, Carrigaline, County Cork: glenbartonphotography.com) for organising the photography and to everyone who supplied photographs; Suzanne Collings for the beautiful foreword; members of the Slaney Sea and Rescue Team, particularly Harry O’Connor for recollecting one of the saddest periods of search-and-rescue operations in Ireland and Eileen Mullally for her painstaking research; Seán Rodgers of the Irish Coast Guard Killybegs Unit for providing information on the Killybegs Coast and Cliff Service Unit; everyone at Pro Musica and Russell’s Music Store for their help in recalling music shops in Cork city in previous decades; my former editor, Maurice Sweeney, for believing in the idea for the book from the start, and for encouraging me to go ahead and write it; my friend Ann Murphy for accompanying me to a doggy-training session at Hop Island.

  Thanks also to Guardian News and Media Limited 2002 for permission to use their account of the search of the Slaney in ‘Sadness along the Slaney’, to the Irish Examiner for permission to use their figures concerning the flooding in Cork in ‘River Lee Search’ and to the German Shepherd Association Ireland for permission to use the account of the dog assessments in ‘Cumbria’.

  Thanks to my sister Mary Lenihan for her dedicated hours of proofreading and for her recommendations, and my sister Joan Newman for her encouragement; my late parents, Eily (née Rea) and Paddy Murphy, for nurturing my interest in writing at a young age and for giving me my first typewriter; my sons Michael and Brian, and my daughter Fiona, for reading the book as it progressed, and for their suggestions and support; and my husband and best friend, Denis, for walking beside me every step of the way on every route I take.

  Thank you all.

  Mick McCarthy

  To my father, Jack McCarthy, for the love of animals and nature that he instilled in me. My father never understood why people would want to go on ‘holidays’ when there were so many places within our own country, and our own areas, that most of us have never seen. He always said, ‘Know your own country first and then, if you have time, you can spread your wings.’ I never saw him lose his temper or become angry at anything or anyone. He appreciated everything, even a little piece of waste timber from which he could carve some animal or bird, or a cup of tea and a boiled egg! He remembered the years when he had nothing but tea and ‘point’ – a piece of meat that was hung on a wall over the kitchen table, which, when eating ‘dinner’, he would point his piece of bread at before eating. He swore that he was so hungry he could taste the meat off the bread.

  To my mother, Mary Gleeson: for reasons unknown to me, the locals always referred to her as ‘Daughter’. She worked hard, she played hard, and she reared us hard. She didn’t have time for the nice things in life – she was always working too hard to be nice. However, she loved to play cards and ludo with us when she had the time. She didn’t suffer fools easily, and was quick to let people know if they dared to cross her. She mellowed as she got older, but she never lost her sarcastic wit and loved nothing better than ‘taking the legs’ from under someone who was beginning to get ‘above themselves’. She was quick to remind us all that she was our mother, and no matter how old we were, we were never too old to get a ‘clip around the ear’. But she was my mother, and when the chips were down, she became my mother again. Thanks Mam.

  To Mary Dunlop, founder of the Irish Guide Dogs’ Association, and her good friend, Monny Flanagan from Garryvoe. I first saw them give a demonstration of obedience and control work at the Cork Summer Show with their German shepherds, and was totally enthralled. Afterwards, I attended obedience classes run by Mrs D., as she was affectionately known, where I learned so much about dogs. Mrs D. was the original dog whisperer. Monny Flanagan was an out-and-out doggy woman. Outwardly, she was a tough, hard woman, but inside had a heart of gold and an affinity with dogs to match Mrs D.’s. She used to regularly call into my place of work in Maylor Street just to say hello. Her visits were short and sharp. Most of the time, all I would hear was, ‘Hello, young fella. How’re the dogs? Don’t answer, I know you’re busy. I’ll talk to ye some other time.’ And then she was gone! But when we met outside of work, we would talk for hours about dogs. When I became involved in training search-and-rescue dogs, both Mrs D. and Monny were among the very few people to regularly phone me and encourage me to keep going. Some years ago, before she passed away, I phoned Mrs D. to tell her how much I appreciated all the time and knowledge she had given me. She told me how she followed with pride every snippet of news about my exploits with the dogs. It is a phone call I will remember forever.

  To Dr Basil Crofts-Greene: I first came in contact with Basil when I purchased my first German shepherd puppy from his kennels in Strancally Castle, Knockanore, County Waterford. Though he lived in a very large castle, he was a thorough gentleman who had time for everyone. His whole life revolved around his beloved German shepherds. He was a member of the Society for the German Shepherd Dog SV – the parent body of the German Shepherd Association (commonly known as SV) – from as far back as 1921. When one considers that the first German shepherd was only registered in 1899, it really shows that he was in at the foundation of the breed. He made more show champions in Ireland and Britain than most dog owners dream about. When I founded our first dog club, Basil was our president, and for many years would come to our twice-weekly training classes, where he would teach us everything he knew. He regularly came to my house in Knockraha, where he would sit for hours talking about his life with dogs. Other times, he invited us to Strancally Castle, where he would show us his library of dog books, which contained every book ever written on the German shepherd. He became my second father, and when on more than one occasion I told him this, he would smile and very gently say, ‘Thank you.’ He gave us many informative seminars on the German shepherd dog, and a kinder, gentler man it was hard to find.

  I miss Mrs D., Monny and Basil almost as much as I miss my father for his gentleness and my mother for her toughness and support.

  To John and Marie Buckley: John and Marie were the founders of the German Shepherd Association of Ireland many years ago. Undoubtedly, they revolutionised the breeding and training of German shepherds in Ireland. They introduced the sport of schutzhund to Ireland, and encouraged all German shepherd owners to train their dogs to become more sociably acceptable. At that time, German shepherd dogs were starting to gain a ‘bad’ reputation. Most people bought them as guard dogs, and very few of these people bothered to socialise or train them; consequently, accidents occurred. John and Marie, through their dedication and hard work, changed many people’s perception of the German shepherd. They founded training groups all over Ireland and Britain. Every year, they invited over to Ireland the best dog trainers from Germany. They sacrificed most of their adult lives for dogs, particularly the German shepherd, and most of the people involved in training German shepherds in Ireland owe them a debt of gratitude because, without their efforts, the sport of schutzhund in Ireland would probably not exist. John has judged dog shows and working trials all over the world for nearly forty years. He has given seminars on all aspects of the German shepherd to the elite of dog trainers in every corner of the globe. John and Marie’s advice and support to me over the years were invaluable, and I salute them.

  To Neil Powell, undoubtedly the father of search-and-rescue-dog training in Ireland, and respected in all parts of the world as a dog trainer supreme: as with the people mentioned above, Neil ranks with the best, and has forgotten more about search dogs and their training than the rest of us mere mortals will ever learn. Following the founding of SARDA Ireland, Neil gave up every sixth weekend to come down to Wicklow to help and advise us budding search-dog trainers. I remember the regular phone calls with advice and encouragement to keep going even when I felt like giving up. Training a dog to be a mission-ready search dog is a time-consuming and very thankless task. If you
’re looking for gratitude and monetary reward, then search-dog handling is not for you. Being totally voluntary, it soaks up all your time, money and energy. It most definitely is not a game, and requires total commitment. Neil had the commitment, and gave – and still gives – of his time selflessly. His kindness to me shone through in the search for the missing German Boy Scout in County Donegal. His dog Pepper made the find and yet he wanted us to say that both dogs made the find so I would get some credit. He was, and is, a selfless and honourable man who, more than anyone I have ever met, deserves the highest award for his commitment to searching for missing persons.

  To Con Moriarty: Con, you were the leader of the Kerry Mountain Rescue Team when I started, and you were so enthusiastic about using the dogs. When I first met you, I was absolutely astounded. You were tall, with long, dark hair, a straggly beard and exactly what I had perceived a ‘mountain man’ to look like. You took me out on the mountain, just you and me, and – like my father before – you enthralled me with the history, stories and legends about the mountains all around us. We walked and talked, or, should I say, you walked and I ran. My God! Your pace was a mile a minute, and there were often times when I felt like shouting, ‘Stop, I’m knackered!’ But I stayed with you because I didn’t want to miss a single word. You loved the mountains so much that you would use any excuse to close your shop and go walking, which you did on many occasions when I had a day off work.

  To Don Murphy, Tom, Declan, Marie, Celine, and my children, Shane, Michelle and Gemma: I could not have trained my dogs without your help. Don: as my fellow dog handler, you were the best travelling companion one could have. In our sojourns to Britain to train and for assessments, you were the cool and wise head when I was having a bad day with the dogs. Declan and Tom: neither of you once complained about spending your Sundays acting as bodies for us. Marie: while I got all the credit, you were the one who looked after the dogs at home and did all the basic training, from obedience to search work. The house was like a show house, and, as Basil Crofts-Greene once remarked, ‘You could eat your dinner off the dogs’ runs.’ When we went climbing Carrauntoohil, you were always first to the top as you were much fitter and faster than the rest of us. You spent many Sundays hiding out on the mountains, especially under and around Carrauntoohil, in all sorts of weather, from warm summer days to freezing days in January. On many occasions, when my dog eventually found you, you were crying from the cold, and yes, you did complain. God, there were times when, having hidden out for five or six hours in some gully or other on the mountain, you could be heard screaming your head off: ‘Are ye so-and-so’s coming to find me or not?’ Like my mother, you were not afraid to use a few expletives when making your point! I had the easy job – I just handled the dogs – while you did all the work. It goes without saying that I would never have managed to train a search dog without your help.