DAWN, somewhere a round 5.40 a.m. The first twinkles of the sun's golden rays are visible through the old oak trees which adorn Howth Head; scavenging seagulls are arguing in close proximity to the first tee box, and, down below, the trawlers are chugging out of the harbour. Picture postcard stuff.

In the carpark, there is a clatter of golf trolleys, being removed from cluttered boots, to challenge the dawn chorus. Cigarette smoke rises into the new, fresh morning air from recently opened car doors and windows. Daybreak. Time for the various poker schools to share out the copper; more serious work lies afoot: golf awaits for the early birds who frequent Deerpark Public Golf Courses.

There was a time when some self proclaimed golfing mad hatters would start to arrive in the Howth hotel's car park some where around two o'clock in the morning. Times have changed; the advent of a large number of other public courses in the Dublin area - and the availability of pre booked tee times - has ended Deerpark's virtual monopoly on the pay to play, and reduced the necessity to queue quite so early.

Now, the first car is unlikely to arrive before 4.30 a.m., or there abouts, when a goodly portion of the country is just turning over. But, by the time the first shot is played, around 15 or 16 cars will be present, the designated player (or driver!) taking his place in the queue to be joined later by his partners.

And, just as golf course etiquette exists, so too does honour among the waiting players. As each car arrives, he is informed of his "number," before invariably joining in on a card school to bide his time, and wait. Some naive visitor not acquainted with the unwritten rules and who makes a rush to the office when it opens is soon informed, in the nicest possible way of course, that he is a queue jumper and is put in his place.

Jimmy Tierney has been religiously driving up the hill each Sunday morning for the best part of 20 years. On traffic free roads, the journey in from Kilbarrack takes a little over five minutes. His son, Gary, a six handicapper, makes the weekly trek too, from Swords, before heading off to work.

Invariably, Mr James Tierney is always one of the first to arrive. "You still get a few eejits coming out here at four," Jimmy says, self effacingly. He is, more often than not, one of them. But playing golf so early has its good points. The freshness of that hour of the day clears the head better than any Alka Seltzer; and teeing off before the clock strikes six ensures the round is completed and a hearty, sizzling breakfast is being consumed by nine.

Larry Murtagh is another early riser. Sometimes, he and his mate Colm Cruise make the journey in from Drogheda to join the dawn brigade. "We're a hit mad, I suppose," he says, loving the intoxication of it all. "It's great, though, to get a bit of craic going at that hour. Playing cards in someone's car and with not a care in the world. It's a stress free zone."

One of the strange absurdities of the situation is that many of the early comers are actually members of Deerpark Golf Club, who play out of the public facility. For the monthly medal, Captain's Prize, President's Prize etc the club members are given preferred tee times - i.e. they can tee- off as soon as light allows - but, otherwise, they queue along with other ordinary members of the public who want a game of golf before the day begins.

It doesn't bother them, though. Most members were the original pioneers of the dawn players and are addicted to their early morning round of golf on a Sunday. Jimmy Tully, the club's vice captain and a four handicapper, explains: "The only thing that holds us up getting out onto the course is actually the light - as the summer progresses, the earlier we'll be out playing.

"The club was started by these guys who played early and we are well used to it now. Indeed, it actually suits most players to get out and have a whole day with their families ahead of them after a round of golf," adds Tully. "We know we are different from other clubs. I know most normal club members wouldn't like to be out so early. But our guys don't mind it."

The man with the cap concurs. Peter McDermott, baseball cap atop his head, stands beside the grey concrete wall - with the shutters of the golf office pulled down behind him - and perches a tin box on it, collecting money and "smart cards" from his members until the shop opens. He is the official club starter, the man who keeps the players moving at the pace of Eddie Irvine from the car park to the first tee, not that they need much encouraging.

"It suits our club members to play early. As a club, we get some concessions for using the course, for our competitions, but basically we are not interfering with the public by playing so early - and, of course, hotel guests can book tee times, although there is good contact between the management on that score," says McDermott.

Time was when paying punters would assemble in the car park with primus stoves to boil a pot of tea. Such days are gone. But the early bird philosophy still exists in a complex which, to be sure, caters for golfers from daybreak to sundown.

And, even at this earliest hour of the morning, shifting among the cars and vans of golfers putting on their spiked shoes, is a man with a white plastic bag, offering balls, recovered from trees and rough, for sale. "I just sell them for a few old men who live down the road from me and who have little else to do other than walk around searching for old halls," he explains. He gets plenty of takers, too.

But, basically, many golfers give thanks day in, day out to Mr Gaisford St Lawrence, who over two decades ago fought a Dublin Corporation CPO to acquire the land for housing and insisted on developing a public golfing amenity instead. Certainly, the dawn brigade appreciate its worth possibly more than anyone.