“Is it always this cold in Cork?” asked a security guard with a distinct Dublin accent as I approached the farmyard of Cradenhill. He had a point. A thin wind cut through the countryside on a bright April morning.

That did not take away from the view, however. To the right were rolling hills; to the left was good farmland, mainly dairying but with some cornfields, leaning back towards Cork city. Straight ahead loomed the giant shed, reputed to be two acres in size, where the Cradenhill herd was housed. A vast structure, no photograph can really display its scale.

The auction had already begun. Security had been extremely tight, with journalists initially refused entry. It quickly became clear that the sale was fairly rattling along. Animals were being knocked down quickly, and at higher prices than when first offered a fortnight before.

There was little chitchat, as the 40 or so present were burrowed in their sale catalogues. Cradenhill boasted one of the finest purebred Holstein herds in the country, and this represented a rare chance to bulk-buy some of the most sought-after bloodlines.

It’s a minority sport – one that consumes its aficionados. The buyers present could reel off bloodlines and family trees like a royal historian. They pore over pedigree brochures and AI catalogues like a gambler studying the form for Cheltenham.

The fact that this was a forced sale, being carried out on the instructions of the county sheriff, operating on behalf of lead creditor ACC Loan Management, could not be ignored. Security was everywhere, with a strong garda presence. However, the atmosphere around the ring, while a little forced, was firmly business-like. As one person wryly noted: “The whole affair had degenerated into a cattle sale.”

Second attempt at selling

We were back in Nohoval because the sale of almost 500 animals had not been completed. The Friday deadline had passed without final payment being made. It emerged that these animals had been bought both by and on behalf of George Kingston, who had established the Cradenhill dairy herd 40 years earlier. He had cashed in his pension to make the purchase, but had not been able to free up the funds in time to make payment.

There is universal sympathy for George Kingston. It may have been that his very presence at the first sale left buyers reluctant to bid, particularly against him. In any event, prices were up second time around. And significantly so.

One cow (lot 498) made €2,500, up from €1,600. Another (lot 284) doubled in price, going from €900 to €1,800. Lot 494 went from €500 to €1,350 – an increase of more than 250%, while lot 274 went from €800 up to €1,300.

Some lots failed to match the price previously received – a couple spectacularly so. Lot 881 went for €1,100, less than half the €2,500, with lot 379 halving in value from €1,000 to €500.

Calves were up. Lot 529 made €1,100, up from €450. Others went from €700 to €1,300, from €425 to 1100, and from €250 to €600.

The buyers

Who was buying? Well, there was a distinctly Northern tinge to the accents. The high-output, high-demand big Holstein cow is more in fashion in Northern Ireland. There were no tyre-kickers present; to gain entry, people had to register, lodge a bond and bring proof of identity.

The sale was completed with a total clearance. They will be taken away within 48 hours, with one final milking planned by the mainly Dutch workforce on Wednesday.

There are no winners. The Kingstons have lost their farm and herd. The money raised will do little more than cover the costs generated by the sheriff, Sinead McNamara. Even selling the land will leave ACC/Rabobank significantly out of pocket. And as for the so-called secondary creditors, mainly from the locality, they have faint hopes of ever receiving a penny. Revenue and the banks take precedence; the little people must wait in line. The whole system of debt resolution is utterly dysfunctional. The bitter wind that cut through Cradenhill was perfectly apt.