Two films, Migrating & Food

I cried my eyes out twice this week at two very different but both poignantly beautiful films.  One I watched in my living room sobbing on my own, the other at the cinema trying to blink the tears back and swallow the lump in my throat.  Both dealt with (among other themes) migration and it led me on a bit of an exploration of the concept.

Migration by Design

The film in the cinema was ‘The Wild Robot’ and we went as a whole family since the boys had both read the book and were really excited for the on screen version.  I couldn’t help but well up throughout as the robot dealt with trying to parent and the inevitable fact that one day the little one would leave.

A bird flitted fast from the Hawthorn to the Ash and I couldn’t get a proper look, though I slowed the bike to try.  Was that a Brambling? I find it hard to tell the difference unless it’s beside it’s cousin the Chaffinch. I’m dubious, maybe it’s too early.  I anticipate the arrival of these winter visitors with the same excitement as the seasonal food that marks my year. Spotting migratory birds and watching them is grounding, I feel connected to our natural world, thinking about their journey, what they might have experienced and I welcome them gladly.  Right now, the shores of Strangford Lough will be packed with thousands of Light Bellied Brent Geese, creating a beautiful hum of activity.  Inch Island will become a sanctuary and feeding ground for Whooper Swan and Greylag Geese and on still days you’ll be able to hear the noisy honking from the N13 Derry-Letterkenny Road that passes above, even more magical from the ancient site of the Grianán of Aileach. 

Dad and I would spend hours in the Bann Estuary hide with telescope and binoculars; frosty mornings with hands in cosy gloves watching the birds for as long as we could, counting the species.  It would take a long time to scan our way through the flocks of winter waders and ducks hoping to spot something rare.  I’ll never forget those mornings, the background bubbling curlew call and the mists rising from the water, the old key, the ceremony of lifting the window shutters and the peace, the connection.  A sense of happiness that these special birds had chosen to overwinter with us. Arriving home with freezing cold fingers, toes and noses we’d be greeted with a warm house with mum’s delicious lentil soup and cheese scones or a big Sunday Lunch. 

Migration by accident

I love to see a rogue plant growing, its seed scattered by winds or animals, growing in an unlikely spot, maybe not exactly where it should be.  I once put a couple of teaspoons of chia seed out on the birds table and in Spring noticed a beautiful purple flowered plant that I couldn’t identify; Chia of course!

A few years ago myself and my friend went to pick plums and apples in my neighbours garden, the beautiful trees were full of plump fruit and I was determined to get all of the ripe ones. I climbed underneath the canopy and picked from below, holding onto the trunk whilst getting my hair caught in the branches.  On the way out we noticed the little gate lodge was open for people to have a look around (part of The European Heritage Open Days) we decided to have a nosey.  Another neighbour, who I hadn’t met, looks after the building and it was sparkling clean and tidy, I started to introduce myself to her and whilst I was mid sentence I put my hand on my chest saying ‘I’m your new neighbour’, my hands touched something sticky and I awkwardly laughed, ‘oh a slug!’ I glanced around at the immaculate setting and put the slug quickly into my pocket, when I looked up the lady narrowed her eyes and slowly said, ‘did you just put a slug in your pocket?’ Embarrassed I scuttled off to find freedom for the little creature!

Migration by choice

Some migratory birds choose to set up home and don’t bother leaving; did they miss the chance, were they not ready? Maybe it’s such a welcoming and perfect place they just don’t want to go!

Our parents moved up the wild North Antrim coast at a time when their hometown had it’s own turbulent, roaring waves.  The unrest during the troubles pushed them to seek a quieter life to raise a family away from hatred and the threat of violence. We migrated and made this landscape our home.  Many others have joined this wonderful community in Ballycastle and beyond and I love to hear how people have come to be in this little seaside town.  I see many of my peers returning home after years away, migrating back to raise their own broods.

Migration by force

I’ve watched the diggers and tractors for days up on the hill ripping away the gorse, how many thousands of little creatures must be forced to find a new home.  The Gorse, bracken and heather chopped and scraped away to leave raw earth ready for more fields of green desert.  I feel a deep sadness for them, I wonder how we can annihilate nature so freely, so carelessly. 

Then I think of the families under threat of annihilation, driven from their homes by force, any evidence of their homes destroyed, scraped away.  It’s hard not to despair; our love, kindness and care overshadowed, we feel helpless watching the higher powers controlling it all. 

The other film I watched was The Old Oak, it focuses on the arrival of Syrian refugees to a deprived working class area in North East England.  I sobbed when the community came together to eat, this act of simply being together and sharing food brought a beautiful and healing calmness to the town.

In the spirit of community here are some food related things I’d like to share with you this week;

Teaching people about food, my passion; the journey of food from Soil to Soul

Simple supper 1; courgette, peas, leek, chilli oil and sour cream

Simple supper 2; kale, fava bean puree and gifted tomatoes

Fermenting everything on one day!

Pistachio shortcake, custard and damson jam

Thanks for being here x