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- Herausgeber: The O'Brien Press
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
There's never a dull moment on Hazel Tree Farm! Peter is hard at work training sheepdog Blue for the trials at the Ballynoe Fair, while Kate – who wants to be a vet like her mam – has her hands full taking care of her cheeky pet hen, Hettie. But a trespasser is nearby, getting ready to strike. Hettie and Blue can sense it – can they warn the humans in time? The first book in the Hazel Tree Farm series, following the adventures of the Farrelly family, their neighbours, and a host of furry, woolly and feathery friends!
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Dedication
For Mark, Eamon and Benji. And of course the ‘Newbawns’ from Hazelhatch.
Acknowledgments
To my husband Mark for his support and advice on all things hen and sheep (and coming soon, cows!). To Donie Anderson, my sheepdog command advisor. Also to Nicola Reddy, who guided this newbie every step of the way. To Kunak McGann and all at O’Brien Press, especially Michael O’Brien, for making my dream come true.
Contents
Chapter One
Rainbow Sprinkles
‘Peter! Peter! Peter!’
The chants from the crowd rang out across the stadium. Peter Farrelly, the world’s most famous inventor, had done it – he had truly done it! Peter had created the Smart Cone, the world’s first interactive, voice-controlled ice-cream cone. Holding it aloft to his adoring fans, Peter drew a finger to his lips. A hussssssssh descended on the crowd, the anticipation almost unbearable.
‘Rainbow sprinkles,’ Peter commanded in a deep, authoritative tone.
A rainbow arched over the cone, illuminating Peter’s face in its multi-coloured splendour. As coloured droplets fell, the cone was sprinkled with tiny beads of candy colour.
‘Marshmallows!’ Peter boomed.
Tiny ‘marshmallow’ clouds appeared and hovered over the creamy cone, gently dotting fluffy puffs amongst the creamy swirls. The crowd was spellbound, in awe of this truly amazing invention.
‘It is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,’ said Mr Jenkins, Peter’s fourth-class teacher.
‘Peter will be a gazillionaire!’ said Tommy Brennan, the most popular boy in St Brendan’s National School.
‘My brother is the greatest inventor ever!’ replied Kate, Peter’s little sister (who was quite a brainbox herself).
Peter raised his hand, and the bellowing crowd grew silent once more.
‘And now for the grand finale,’ he said, staring at the cone, with its delicious spray of sprinkles and marshmallows.
Peter blinked his eyes. The once-vanilla cone was now chocolate … Blink! Now it was rocky road … Blink! Now strawberry … Blink, blink! Chocolate and vanilla!
His fans were on their feet, their applause and cheers almost deafening.
‘Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!’
There was only one thing left for Peter to do now: have a taste of his truly glorious creation.
‘Go on, Peter, take a big bite!’ shouted Mr Jenkins.
‘You can do it, Peter, I know you can!’ Kate was jumping up and down.
‘You are truly the best, Peter Farrelly,’ said Tommy Brennan, punching the air.
Peter brought the cone closer to his face. Little sticky ice-cream trails were trickling down the sides.
‘Peter, Peter, Peter …’ The crowd was growing restless, almost like a jungle tribe chanting to its leader.
Closer and closer …
Not long now until the creamy deliciousness was his and only his …
Closer and closer …
Peter stuck out his tongue. He was hardly able to wait a second more … Just a few millimetres …
Sluuuurrrpppppp!
Suddenly, something wet hit Peter’s face.
Sluuuurrrpppppp, Sluuuurrrpppppp!
There it was again, and again. His face was soaking! Looking at his beautiful ice cream, Peter squealed in horror as a big tongue suddenly shot out of it. His amazing Smart Cone was licking his face, and what’s more, it had two big eyes, one brown and one blue, and was covered in black fur.
AGGGGHHHHH! Peter sat bolt upright in his bed.
His amazing dream had been interrupted by Blue, his sheepdog, who was licking her master’s face to wake him up. Her long tongue went from chin to brow in one sloppy movement.
‘Ahhhh, Blue, you ruined my dream!’ wailed Peter.
Blue didn’t care about any dream – she had to groom her young master and make sure he knew just how much she loved him. Her wet nose nuzzled under his chin, tickling him.
‘Ok, I’m up, I’m up.’ Peter rolled out of bed, wiping his face. ‘There are less gross ways of waking someone up, you know!’
Satisfied that morning wash time was complete, Blue hopped off the bed and waited patiently for Peter to get dressed. Her tail thumped on the ground and her tongue lolled out of her mouth, at the ready should another wash and groom be required.
Peter lived at Hazel Tree Farm with his sister Kate, his mam and dad and of course Miss Blue the sheepdog. Even though Kate was two whole years younger than Peter, she was smarter than most other eight-year-olds and rarely had her head out of a book.
The Farrellys had always lived at Hazel Tree Farm, which had been a busy sheep farm going all the way back to Peter’s great-great-grandfather. It was named after a lone hazel tree that had stood for a hundred years in the woods behind the meadow but came down in a storm on the night Blue was born. Afterwards, Dad placed an old wooden bench beside its stump, and it was everyone’s favourite spot to sit and watch the lambs run around in the spring sunshine.
Peter and Kate’s dad had grown up at Hazel Tree Farm too, and Peter’s room was once Dad’s room. He would often open the door of the wardrobe and shine a torch to the bottom corner where his dad had written, ‘DAVID FARRELLY WOZ ERE FEB 1982’. He couldn’t imagine his dad being ten years old, like him!
‘I remember putting up posters of tractors and B.A. from The A-Team,’ Dad told him one time, as they painted the bedroom walls in Peter’s favourite colour, John Deere green. ‘Your granny would get so cross when I used sticky tape because it tore the wallpaper.’
‘What’s a B.A.?’ asked Peter. ‘And who are The A-Team?’
Mam laughed as she laid sheets on the wooden floors to catch the drops of paint. ‘It’s a TV show from a VERY long time ago.’ She smiled cheekily at Dad.
‘Thanks, Marian,’ Dad grumbled, pretending to be annoyed.
‘It’s a great room,’ he continued. ‘I always loved how the windows open up onto the main yard and you get the best view of the fields and woodland out back. I especially loved hearing the hens next door in Coopers’ – their clucking would send me to sleep.’
Peter smiled. He loved that too.
‘In fact,’ said Dad, ‘I think I used to hear things happening on the farm before my own dad did!’
Mam enjoyed hearing stories of Hazel Tree Farm in the old days too. She knew David had had a very happy childhood here, and she wanted the same for her own young family.
Marian Farrelly also grew up on a farm, not too far away, and now she was a vet with a small-animal clinic at the back of Hazel Tree farmhouse. Her patients were mainly dogs and cats, with the occasional gerbil or hamster. One time she treated a budgie called Bertie, who had a very bad cold. Every time he sneezed, Bertie squawked ‘Bless you! Bless you!’, much to the amusement of Peter and Kate, who could hear him at the other end of the hall.
Behind the main house, there were acres of green fields and woodland. Most mornings, the children would sit at the kitchen table, positioning their bowls of cereal at the perfect angle so they could watch Dad working in the fields while munching their cornflakes. The animal sheds and outhouses were right beside the house, which made things easier during lambing season.
Lambing season, in early spring, was by far the busiest time of year at Hazel Tree Farm. No sooner was the Christmas tree put away than Dad was getting sheds ready for the impending new arrivals. Having the house close by meant he could quickly run in for a bucket of warm water or bring a sickly lamb into the kitchen, where Mam always had a basket set up next to the warm stove.
Over the years, the farm had grown as Mam and Dad added more sheep. And with a growing flock, they had to add bigger sheds and secure more land. The fields provided grass for the sheep to graze on in the warmer months, and to make hay for winter when the fields got mucky and the grass more scarce.
You might think that the best thing about a growing farm was all the animals, but not for Peter. Nope! For Peter, having a growing farm also meant the need for … more machines!
Peter’s other favourite thing about life on a farm was all the machinery. At different times of the year the countryside would hum with the sounds of busy farmers at work – ploughing in autumn, sowing in spring and harvesting throughout the summer. Soon, the countryside would be waking up after its winter slumber to the sounds (and smells) of tractors spreading slurry to fertilise and nourish the grass back to life after the cold months. Peter always laughed when his friends held their noses as the pungent odour drifted across the schoolyard. He laughed even harder when he told them it was cow’s poo they were smelling!
Of all the machines on the farm, Peter liked tractors the best. He still remembered the day Dad arrived home in their new, shiny-green John Deere.
‘Fear the Deere!’ he thundered. Peter knew all the different types of tractors, but the John Deere was his favourite.
‘If she’s red …’ started Mam.
‘… leave her in the shed!’ finished Peter.
‘If she’s blue …’ said Kate.
‘… then she just won’t do!’ said Peter.
‘If she’s green …’ Dad continued.
‘… you’re fit to be seen!’ chorused Mam and Kate and Peter together, laughing.
COCKADOOODLE DOOOOOO000000ooooooo!
A loud crow brought Peter back from his daydreaming. Was Rodney the Rooster getting up a bit late too? Blue whimpered.
‘I know, girl,’ smiled Peter. ‘Time to get a move on.’
Chapter Two
The Bestest Eggs
Rodney the rooster belonged to Maggie and Eamon Cooper, who lived next door to Hazel Tree Farm, in Cooper’s Cottage. They were older than Peter and Kate’s parents, although the children weren’t quite sure how much older, and no one, it seemed, wanted to tell them. Grownups were always a bit weird about telling people their ages. At her last birthday, Kate couldn’t wait to blow out the giant ‘8’-shaped candle on her cake. Being eight was far more grown up than being seven. And when Peter turned ten, his cake was nearly ablaze with all the candles – it felt brilliant!
