Jade Plummer (5) was absolutely certain. From Castleplunkett, she is "nearly six". She was helping her father Noel sell ducks and rabbits at Tulsk sheep fair in Co Roscommon.

"The ducks are £6, and the rabbits are £5," she explained. Her sister Naomi (4) interjected: "I used to be three," she said.

"So used I," disclosed a woman looking at the ducks. The woman had a small boy with her. He couldn't take his eyes off the rabbits, including one black one.

"Ah, Mammy will ya look, will ya look," he begged her. Mammy didn't want to look. She predicted that as soon as the men came out of the Tulsk Inn or Kelly's pub, there wouldn't be one of Noel's rabbits left. Such, it seems, is the effect of that potent mix of alcohol, sentiment, and rabbits on Roscommon men.

There was little sentiment evident however among the men at the newly revived traditional fair on Saturday. Local butcher Seamus Conway bought 14 sheep from Michael Hanly of Callow, and it was all over in minutes. Michael even bought another four from Seamus, and without pain too. Now Peter Feehily from Castleplunkett wanted to buy those four sheep from Michael Hanly. The ritual began.

They shuffled around the trailer where the sheep were held. They went into the trailer. Peter examined the sheep, making the odd disparaging comment. They came out again and leaned against the trailer. They jostled figures. Peter walked away. He walked back again. It went on like that.

"This could go on for hours," remarked Adrian Hanly, son of Michael, sitting against a car. And it did.

What they needed was an intermediary like "McCormack". He broke the deadlock in anther deal by tossing a 50p piece. Mattie McGarry wanted £58 each for his six ewes, and was being offered £57.50. This had been the position for hours. Mattie would not budge, and everyone knew he was "mad to go off fishing" as an onlooker said. Seamus Conway, the buyer, wouldn't budge either.

Along came "McCormack". He wanted to know why they wouldn't split the difference: "Why won't ye agree £57.75?" he asked. This was not welcomed.

"Would you shut up McCormack, I'm the deal-maker here," retorted a would-be deal maker there. McCormack took no heed.

"We'll toss it," he said, and it was agreed that if Mattie won he'd get £58 a head for his sheep, and if Seamus won he'd pay just £57 a head. Seamus won.

Another good day for Seamus Conway. He's a member of the Tulsk Action group. Last Friday the Minister for Tourism, Jim McDaid, told them he had sanctioned £360,000 for the Cruachan Ui interpretative centre, to be built in the village by spring 1999. The cost will be £514,000 altogether. The centre will provide information on "the largest and best preserved Celtic sites in Europe" - Rathcroghan and Carnfree, nearby. A theatre in the centre will be used to bring to life the legend of Queen Maeve, who lived at Rathcroghan.

Another member of the action group is the parish priest, Father Austin McKeon. He bought a jar of Margaret McDermot's jam. With her six-month-old son Brian on her knee, Margaret was also selling cabbage (50p a head), lettuce (40p a head), "and you'll get a free head of lettuce with the cabbage," she said. Father Austin explained how the sugar used in making jam curdles milk, before strolling off home.

"I better go," he said, "the potatoes are on a slow boil."

One of the most popular individuals at the fair was "Rusty", a sow by any name. She was there with six of her 10 bonhams, rooting.

"They'll ruin my field," said Enda Beirne. Rusty's owner, Matt O'Dowd of Tullyboy farm, does not believe in "ringing" her. Rings are put in a pig's snout to stop it rooting.

"If you ring her would she ring back?" wondered an onlooker, "nicely", after a few drinks.

"Tiocfaidh, tiochfaidh," called Fergus Beirne to Rusty, before offering her a bottle of Guinness, which she likes. "Suck it into you baby, and get a hangover," he told her.

"Don't pigs like you, Daddy?" asked his proud son Tadhg (4), as Rusty guzzled the Guinness.

Then Enda Beirne told the story of the Castlerea man with a counting problem. "Throw them three sheep into the trailer, till we count them," said the Castlerea man, only to be told there was just room for two. "Well throw them two in," said the Castlerea man, "and we'll count the other fella after."

Peter Shannon (70) was just glad to be there. Last May he got "the oul' rattle", a tight pain in the chest. "I almost ended up in that corner up there," he said, pointing past tall trees and the ruins of a 15th-century abbey to a part of the graveyard beside us.

Meanwhile Michael Hanly was making little progress in doing a deal with Pat Feehily.

"You're hardly going to bring them home with you," Pat said to him. "You wouldn't know," responded Michael, as he got into his car, and he drove off. But he left the sheep behind.