The Ballad of Copper O'Malley
It all started one mornin' on Kef Mason hill...
the workers had gone and the air it was still.
Our brood was itchin' to get on outside,
when there in the distance we saw a fox stride.
'Ole Roxy was chompin' to give 'im a chase,
while red tail a-flippin' he crossed the fence base.
At lunch a bit later I says to my sis,
that fox he was Irish 'cause red 'is hair is.
Well I can't seriously write a whole blog like this because I'm done with the rhymin' and droppin' my g's. But you get the idea.
This morning after the yard guys had finished up, we were preparing to let the herd loose when I spotted a fluffy red tail following after a tall, slender fox. Inside the yard. The doodles saw him too, and my two were oblivious. As Kef was about to go shoo him away, I was preparing to close the dog door so the hoard wouldn't go after this poor soul. Before we could act, he slipped his slender body through the fence and out into the forever-wild beyond.
With the hounds released, the sniff was on. My two stayed at the top of the hill, ever blind to the fact that there had been an intruder. I walked down to the bottom of the hill where the investigation was taking place, hoping my two would come along for the excitement. They didn't, but I was rewarded for the exertion by a happy little orange flower bobbing along in the breeze. I picked one so I could bring it back for a photo session and identification search.
The flower I found was shaped somewhat like a cap or hood, so I searched for "hood flower orange" and found my target quickly. It's an orange balsam impatiens capensis. (Say that three times fast.) The blooms are quite delicate and lovely, bouncing along on slender stems. Here's my photo (it's resting on the leaf of a larger plant here, so don't mistake this for its leaves).
I thought it looked a little bit like an orchid because of the way the internal parts are arranged. But it has this interesting cap shape, with a curly-q piece that wraps underneath it. Quite lovely.
I suppose I'll forever relate this fiery flower to the fiery-tailed fox that led me to it.
Now, back to my story. Our original intent in getting the dogs to go out was to go to lunch, so we carried on with that plan. Over our Red Robin fries, we discussed the fox. Here's how the conversation went:
M: We need to name him.
K: Fred.
M: No, it has to start with an M. Like Marguerite [the bird who lives outside my door].
K: It's my house.
M: Okay, your fox can be named Fred. Mine is going to have a good Irish name because he has red hair.
So, I proceeded to google for male Irish names that start with an M. In the process, the name O'Malley got stuck in my head. It doesn't start with an M, but in my Irish genealogy conversations I've learned that many times they would drop the O. So, I stuck with it. But O'Malley is really a surname. I came across the name Copper, which I loved because that was his color. Kef said she likes Cooper better. I stuck with Copper, but still needed that elusive Christian name. Really, what else would you name an Irish lad if you're stuck with an M... but Michael! My fox's name is Michael "Copper" O'Malley. Kef's is Fred Cooper. Many people anglicized their name when they immigrated, so I guess it's only natural that he would too. His descendants will have a heck of a time figuring out that Michael O'Malley and Fred Cooper are one and the same. Maybe this blog post will help.
When I was thinking about how I would tell you all about Copper, the tune to "Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" kept playing in my head. I've never written an Irish ballad, but the tune was definitely there. In my subsequent googling, I came across a comedian who provides instructions. (Note that I did get sucked down the YouTube rabbit hole first, and listened to some lovely songs.)
Here's the instructional video (there is some colorful language; you've been warned)...
Now get your A minor chord strumming and scroll back up to the top of this post to sing "The Ballad of Copper O'Malley." I didn't manage to blame the Brits for Copper being in our yard, but I would have gotten there if I hadn't gotten weary of it.
the workers had gone and the air it was still.
Our brood was itchin' to get on outside,
when there in the distance we saw a fox stride.
'Ole Roxy was chompin' to give 'im a chase,
while red tail a-flippin' he crossed the fence base.
At lunch a bit later I says to my sis,
that fox he was Irish 'cause red 'is hair is.
Well I can't seriously write a whole blog like this because I'm done with the rhymin' and droppin' my g's. But you get the idea.
This morning after the yard guys had finished up, we were preparing to let the herd loose when I spotted a fluffy red tail following after a tall, slender fox. Inside the yard. The doodles saw him too, and my two were oblivious. As Kef was about to go shoo him away, I was preparing to close the dog door so the hoard wouldn't go after this poor soul. Before we could act, he slipped his slender body through the fence and out into the forever-wild beyond.
With the hounds released, the sniff was on. My two stayed at the top of the hill, ever blind to the fact that there had been an intruder. I walked down to the bottom of the hill where the investigation was taking place, hoping my two would come along for the excitement. They didn't, but I was rewarded for the exertion by a happy little orange flower bobbing along in the breeze. I picked one so I could bring it back for a photo session and identification search.
The flower I found was shaped somewhat like a cap or hood, so I searched for "hood flower orange" and found my target quickly. It's an orange balsam impatiens capensis. (Say that three times fast.) The blooms are quite delicate and lovely, bouncing along on slender stems. Here's my photo (it's resting on the leaf of a larger plant here, so don't mistake this for its leaves).
I thought it looked a little bit like an orchid because of the way the internal parts are arranged. But it has this interesting cap shape, with a curly-q piece that wraps underneath it. Quite lovely.
I suppose I'll forever relate this fiery flower to the fiery-tailed fox that led me to it.
Now, back to my story. Our original intent in getting the dogs to go out was to go to lunch, so we carried on with that plan. Over our Red Robin fries, we discussed the fox. Here's how the conversation went:
M: We need to name him.
K: Fred.
M: No, it has to start with an M. Like Marguerite [the bird who lives outside my door].
K: It's my house.
M: Okay, your fox can be named Fred. Mine is going to have a good Irish name because he has red hair.
So, I proceeded to google for male Irish names that start with an M. In the process, the name O'Malley got stuck in my head. It doesn't start with an M, but in my Irish genealogy conversations I've learned that many times they would drop the O. So, I stuck with it. But O'Malley is really a surname. I came across the name Copper, which I loved because that was his color. Kef said she likes Cooper better. I stuck with Copper, but still needed that elusive Christian name. Really, what else would you name an Irish lad if you're stuck with an M... but Michael! My fox's name is Michael "Copper" O'Malley. Kef's is Fred Cooper. Many people anglicized their name when they immigrated, so I guess it's only natural that he would too. His descendants will have a heck of a time figuring out that Michael O'Malley and Fred Cooper are one and the same. Maybe this blog post will help.
When I was thinking about how I would tell you all about Copper, the tune to "Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" kept playing in my head. I've never written an Irish ballad, but the tune was definitely there. In my subsequent googling, I came across a comedian who provides instructions. (Note that I did get sucked down the YouTube rabbit hole first, and listened to some lovely songs.)
Here's the instructional video (there is some colorful language; you've been warned)...
Now get your A minor chord strumming and scroll back up to the top of this post to sing "The Ballad of Copper O'Malley." I didn't manage to blame the Brits for Copper being in our yard, but I would have gotten there if I hadn't gotten weary of it.
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