Poaching: Poddy's Ear Woz 'Ere!

The library in my town is housed in an imposing building that dates back to the blah-blah-teenth century. It's only been a library for a decade of so, before that, it housed the County Court. In the square outside there are some trees; fairly modest, fairly dull trees - this is, after all, a fairly modest, fairly dull town.

Poddy the Poacher nailed his ear to one of these trees. History doesn't record which; miserable old bugger, history: all very good for dates of Kings and Queens and what have you, not quite so good at testimonial plaques and the like for fellows who - for, probably, no very good reason - nailed their ear to a tree.

Poddy nailed his ear to a tree because - well, probably because (and I'm possibly making this up) he was caught poaching. The clue is in the name, I suppose: Poacher, Poddy the Poacher.

Poddy was famous hereabouts for not being quietly and politely subservient to the respectable requirements of the respectable Law of the Land. Clearly, he nicked a lot of game from places where they'd have been happier if he hadn't - from where it was, to dot the t's and cross the i's, from where it was strictly illegal for him to do so. He very often landed up in court and, when he did, he very often did so in a theatrical manner: once he showed up in front of the Magistrate dressed in full scuba gear; once he was borne to Court in a coffin; once he appeared in front of the Judge covered in foul-smelling manure and sporting a slaughtered pig's head as a hat.

Around Christmas 1977, he scaled he walls of Shrewsbury jail dressed as Santa Claus with a goodie bag full of fags & baccy for the inmates and regaled the town with cries of Merry Christmas until he was removed by officers of the law - all of them, no doubt, not too chuffed about being pulled away from their Turkey dinners.

It's possible, also, that he held the title of World Frog Swallowing Champion. The Guinness Book of Records, inexplicably, no longer seems to feature this activity or hold any mention of Poddy's feat.

The town square today was full of agonisingly peppy teenage chuggers bounding up to strangers and saying "Hello Matey! Can I have a minute of your time?" None of the trees in the square bore any sort of plaque, blue or otherwise, recording the fact that this Elm, Beech, Oak, mighty Redwood - whatever - was the very tree to which Poddy the Poacher nailed his ear.

This, it seems to me, is a shame. It's not a shame because nicking stuff is right - nicking stuff is wrong, nicking Lord and Lady Wotsit's pheasants is, quite clearly, not on. It's a shame, I'd say, because someone living so as to make it clear that here, here is someone who is living, this is so, frankly, unusual a thing as to be worthy of note, worthy of record.
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Tags: ethics, Poaching, poddy the poacher