Organising My DNA Matches : - Trying Out RootsFinder

Organising My DNA Matches : - Trying Out RootsFinder

I am sorry, but if you are a beginner to Genetic Genealogy a lot of this wont make much sense, but I do not have time right now to do the basics. I promise I will write a beginners blog at some stage.

I have been exploring the DNA tools of RootsFinder.com and I am pretty pleased, and slightly annoyed about what I have found so far. Why pleased and annoyed? Because it seems to be able to do in minutes much of what I have spent hours and hours, for days and days, over the last 3 1/2 years! LOL!

I have only done the GEDmatch.com tie in part so far. RootsFinder itself is another Utah based online tree service that is mostly free, and ties in with Family Search, but can also be linked to Find My Past, etc.  (I think?). But it is a good, well laid out, and easy to use site as a family tree site. But it is the new DNA tools that attracted me. 

I had recently spent a lot of time on Ancestry making sure I had all known matches in my tree that also had a GEDmatch kit, and marking them 'DNA Marked' with their GEDmatch user kit name for another program which turned out to not really do what I wanted it to (I hadn't noticed until then that there is a 'DNA Marked' option in the event drop down list of burials, etc.). I also have all those in my tree that I know I have a DNA match to, whether GEDmatch or not, with 'DNA Match' in the title(?) part of their name. 

I then imported my family tree as a GEDcom, to RootsFinder and then imported my current GEDmatch 'One-to-Many' list, which was an amazingly simple 'select all', 'copy and paste'! RootsFinder then sorted it out into a proper list that ties in with them. I was then able to mark people from the 'One-to-Many' list that were in my tree, and it colour coded them and you can see their relationship to you in a fan chart too! I did this for my Mum and aunt too.

The next two phases took a little longer, but not due to RootsFinder. On GEDmatch I paid $10 for access to the 'Tier 1' tools for a month (which I do occasionally anyway, not only to get access to these advanced tools, but also to support GEDmatch). I then ran the 'Segment Matching' tool and the 'Triangulated Segment' tool (the really slow one, as there is a lot of data to churn through). Make sure you save a copy of the results anyway for other purposes, but all I had to do when the runs had finished was to 'select all', 'copy and paste' into RootsFinder.

I was then able to see graphics for the shared segments, and a spectacular 3D cluster diagram of triangulated matches, and one of those circle diagrams with all the matches round the outside, grouped by close relationship, and a maze of lines looping between clusters.

It will take some time to really see what I have got, and how to import my AncesrtyDAn matches (using the 'AncestryDNA Helper' chrome add on tool), and my MyHeritage matches, and FTDNA matches too; although I am not sure what results I can get from each of the other sites data.

There is a friendly Facebook group on here called 'RootsFinder DNA Tools' and the developer is one of the admins and is keen for feedback and suggestions (he is already working on ways of combining all the results from the different companies together).

I am really pleased so far.

A Boast Fulfilled. The Goddess Revisited.

A Boast Fulfilled. The Goddess Revisited

To understand the background to this blog you need to have read my last blog (Ten Years of Knowing I'm a Pagan), at the end of which I said, after ten years I was determined that I was going to return to the natural Earth Mother temple I discovered as part of my spiritual journey in Wensleydale on the day I discovered I was a pagan.  

Anyway, for various reasons I hadn't been back there for the previous ten years, and although I implied I would return within the week, the weather or work meant that I failed to do so in August.  This played heavily on my mind throughout the month, as I was disappointed with myself for not going, knowing I really wanted to honour the tenth anniversary of my 'conversion' (even though with hindsight I now know I always was a pagan), but also to face up to my fears that I would be disappointed that it wasn't the same sort of experience.  Then at the August Bank Holiday camp at Sentry Circle, a group of us held a 'sumbel', a ritual drinking ceremony at which toasts are made to the Gods/Goddesses, spirits of the land, and the ancestors, both ancient and recent. As part of this you can, if you want, make a 'boast', which is a binding promise to do some future action. I boasted that I WOULD return to the Goddess temple within the next month.

I was NOW oath bound to do this!

So this week I did it! Only a month later than originally intended, and well within the month I had given myself to do it at the sumbel. I also chose my day wisely, as I wasn't sure how well I would cope with the steep climb ten years (and one month!) on from when I did it last, but it was towards the end of the event/camping season, so I was relatively fitter than at the beginning. I also I wanted good weather too, as I didn't fancy climbing the grassy slopes in the wet (even though it had been so at the time of my first ascent). I was very lucky with the weather; with a window of fine, warm, dry conditions, during a less settled week; as you will see from all the photographs, it was glorious!

Everything was great, as I walked down hill from my car looking for the start of the path I was to follow. All sunny and warm, with hardly any wind. I was starting to regret adding an extra layer in my bagpipe bag. A just in case layer. Oh! And I forgot, I was also bringing my non-Highland bagpipes with me too. Well 2 1/2 sets of bagpipes, and a couple of recorders.

As soon as I found the right path, and started my new pilgrimage, I was welcomed by the Goddess in her falcon (Kestrel) form.

If you look carefully, in these two photos, you will see her circling just ahead of me, leading me on, along my spiritual path.

As you will know from the last blog, it was as the Kestrel she revealed herself to me ten years previously at this place, and I have been very 'aware' of her presence whenever I see her in this form ever since.

Unlike the sun and showers of my last visit, as I said, the weather was glorious, and I could see for miles.

There was one of the collection of cairns I saw last time.

And the path led on.

I didn't seem to see so much of the fairy mine entrances of last time? I don't know why they weren't so obvious? Maybe as a result of the long hot summer?

But there was the square feature in the grass field I saw last time.

Eventually, like the last time, I reached the end of the track, and again, technically, I had the same choice of the longer safer course directly ahead of me, or the steep and potentially dangerous climb to the left.

Of course, unlike last time, there was no rainbow ahead of me as a sign that I should take the safer route, for me to then reject it for the more dangerous, less well trodden path.

This time the steeper path was what I was here for; and so I began the long, slow, ascent of a fat middle aged man on a mission. And it was far from easy, but not too difficult, as I used various features in the grass and rocks as steps; zig-zagging slightly to make it easier, and with a few rests on the way. But all the time I was very aware that a misjudged step could lead to a long bumpy slide down the hill at best, or MUCH worse, at worse. The hillside was dry, and I have a lot of common sense, and I was carrying an outsmartsmephone this time. But there are times in your life that you have to push yourself, physically, and mentally, to really live life! You have to challenge yourself, and set major targets to get yourself out of ruts, and advance to higher levels, and of course, this is what the boast had made me do.

Eventually I got to the top of the first, steepest, climb, and reached the glacial terrace I had rested on last time. Yes! Time for a rest, and enjoy the view. Oh! And by this time, I was regretting not bringing some water with me, as I had meant to have done. But then again, I kept telling myself, deprivation is part of the spiritual journey of a pilgrimage.

After a rest, I started looking around and planning the next part of the trek. The Mother temple was somewhere there at the top of the next slope.

I had actually ascended the first slope at a slightly earlier point than the last time, so walked further east to see the remains of the sheiling hut I had seen last time. But looking up I could see the closed rock door in the cliff face in the crag above (not obvious in the photograph). Again it reminded me of the sealed entrance to the 'Mines of Moria'. LOL!

But the temple was not that far up, and was in the lower rough line of cliffs and grass at the top of the next slope. But where?

After a while and some thinking, I thought I knew where it was most likely to be, as it was hidden from this angle, but I guessed that it was up by the white rock you can see shinning in the middle of this picture. In fact, I can now see three rocks forming a line showing me the way to go. I took the white rock as a way marker for me at the time, and it turned out to truly be so!

I was spot on! As I reached the top of the second slope I arrived directly at the temple! I was so pleased.

 Time for another rest, and enjoy the view, as I gathered my thoughts, and prepared myself for what might happen next.

It was now time to enter the temple. 

As I had feared, it didn't seem as big as it 'felt' in my memories, and the forecourt and thighs that had reminded me of a Neolithic passage grave weren't as obvious; and without the shrouding low cloud that surrounded me by this point last time, that had made everything seem more intimate. This time everything was much more open, but very friendly.

Yes! Ever since I was greeted by her kestrel at the beginning of my walk, I knew that I was very welcome here, a returning friend, as well as a worshipper.

Last time, I had been very unsure about entering 'her'. Symbolically entering the vagina of the Mother Earth. Not sure about committing sacrilege? Whether this was a sexual act? Or a return to the womb? But this time I felt she was happy for me to enter her, and I felt comfortable, but very aware too within her. And boldly I went all the way to the back of the gryke without hesitation, just watching out for my footing and head.

Unlike last time when the waters had appeared to flow from her, due to the long hot summer, she had seemed much drier from the outside; but I found a pool of water within, and stooped and took a couple of sips, more licks, of fluid. Strangely, despite the sexual innuendo, I did not have any sexual feelings at the time. It was an act of worship and respect within a temple to nature.

Then it was time to return to the outside, in an act of symbolic rebirth.

Until I was out back in the forecourt in front of her, with the whole World before me.

It was then time for me to 'perform' the second part of my promise to myself, that I had wanted to do for the last ten years; and that was to play my wooden Medieval bagpipes in her. To me, playing my pipes in special places in the landscape, like burial mounds, henges and stone circles, or historic buildings like churches, cathedrals and castles, is, well, special! When the pipes are playing well the drone is an important part of it, as close to meditation and ritual as I can normally get. Sadly the pipes weren't playing well, and I wasn't making 'beautiful music' within her. Not bad music, but not good. So I tried playing my plastic Scottish Lowland pipes I had with me too, but they weren't very good either. I think it was because I was now very aware that I was drawing attention to myself, via the sound, and even though I hadn't seen another person on my trek, and I was at least a mile from where any were likely to be, I was worried someone would just appear out of curiosity. So I put away the pipes and went back to basics by digging out one of my recorders. I was able to play a few tunes within her, but not only was it less 'ritualistic', but my fingering was rather fumbled (some more innuendo I know), as for the last ten years I have hardly played the recorder, and the fingering is slightly different than the pipes.

I found this part of my time at the temple disappointing, as I had built up big expectations, and then I had let myself down through my own worries about trying to get the right musical resonances and my shyness about potential audiences. But of course no one had appeared.

However! When I came out I found I had had an audience. An audience of curious sheep had gathered outside, drawn by the strange sounds coming from their watering hole! LOL!

The return journey to the car was more of a boring slog in many ways. I slowly worked my way up to the very top of the hill, after walking along another glacial terrace for a while. All I wanted to do now was get back to the car, which seemed a lot further away than I thought it was. And I was also very aware that this may be the last time I visit this particular place, as if I wait another ten years I will be 68 and it may well be very unwise to attempt a similar climb, even if I am still able to do it. But there are plenty of other places I can worship the Goddess at, and I was also planning an easier way to get back to this temple in the future that would be much safer, if less spectacular.

And it was less of a spiritual walk in many ways too. It was contemplative rather than meditative. Contemplative, because I had had ten years of regularly attending pagan events, and spiritual activities in the landscape (including helping to build the stone circle at Sentry Circle). Spiritually I am much more aware of myself, and much more comfortable with myself, and my now fairly important place within the pagan community. That sounds like self aggrandisement, but entirely unsought, I have found myself as a community elder, to a great extent, conducting handfastings and naming ceremonies, etc., and also with the important role of answering questions from pagan curious general public members, or those new to paganism; and a very important role providing support to the vulnerable within the community. And I did not seek any of this. People just asked me to do  these things, or have been drawn to me. But I am also very lucky to have found a strong community of good and accepting friends, who, like myself, try not to judge people, but accept them for who they are, as they are.

Ten Years of Knowing I am a Pagan

Ten Years of Knowing I am a Pagan

This week is very significant for me, as ten years ago, about now, I had what I call my 'Saul on the Road to Damascus' moment; when I discovered I was a pagan, which, considering I had been an agnostic, was a major thing for me to admit to myself.

Some of you that knew me at the time may well remember I wrote  a MySpace blog about it at the time (Yes! 10 years ago we were mainly new to social media and MySpace was the place to be). Some of you have also heard me tell the tale over the years at my stall or round the campfire. It is a bit of a long story and in someways better told with a few drinks while sitting round the fire, but I will try not to bore you with it now.

I need to give a little background before I go on. When I started up as the Green Man Potter in 2005, I hadn't set out to exploit the pagan market (as some have suggested), the whole Green Man, and Pottery thing was a result of a dream and a series of coincidences (another story for another time). It just so happened that over the first couple of years of trading that I discovered that most of my customers were pagan.  Even though nature and history have been very significant to me throughout my life (particularly landscape history and woodlands) I considered myself an agnostic, with a keen interest in historic buildings like churches and ancient temple sites, etc., but no interest in god-mumbling. So it makes my 'conversion', as such, even more significant, although I still remain very much an unbeliever in gods, etc. wondering around doing things.

Right!  So it was early to mid August 2008 and I had my pottery stall at a craft fair in Hawes, Wensleydale, North Yorkshire; a venue I did quite regularly back in those days during the summers.  Over the previous few months I had started to look into Neo-Paganism, its origins and branches, as I started to make friends with my customers, and I had already had had a stall at a few pagan conferences, had started attending a local pagan moot, and started attending pagan camps; but I was approaching it all with a sceptical eye but an open mind.  I liked the whole concept of paganism, as a broad philosophy of being respectful to Nature and each other, but one thing I already knew was that I wasn't into anything fluffy, especially a lot of the New Age, Hippy stuff that had been made up in the 60s and 70s. I wanted something with more antiquity and a real earthy, natural basis.  This meant that I was looking at Shamanism, but I didn't really fancy lying in a cold dark cave for hours (a not so cold dark cave would be OK), or sticking cactus spines in myself (I am not into self harming of any kind. I don't enjoy pain, even if it releases my inner demons), and I was especially not keen on drug taking (particularly drink shaman's piss after he had been drinking reindeer piss, after it had been eating fly-agric toadstools).  So thinking about these issues was heavy in my thoughts at the time, when on the Friday night I went for a half-drunk walk in the countryside next to Hawes.

The next day, in the morning, a customer started bending my ear who was a Christian Fundamentalist (with the emphasis on 'mental'). He told me that when archaeology proved the Bible right it proved the Bible right, but when it proved it wrong, it was 'just opinion'. But then he went on to talk about Neanderthals and the Ice Ages, which if the Bible is 'right' they never existed! So he was an unthinking talking arse! But he did buy a Green Man item, as the Green Man is a benign concept. All the other traders were giggling among themselves while this was going on, and were all suddenly very busy when the twat finally left my stall.  Then in the afternoon I had an Evangelist come up to my stall saying that she would pray for my soul, despite me saying that she didn't need to, as my soul was perfectly OK; but she also went on to buy a Green Man item.  This is still the only time this sort of thing has happened to my in my life (well not two in the same day! LOL!). 

By the evening I was quietly fuming, and needed to get out for a walk, despite the showery weather, and I knew exactly where I wanted to go.

This was my third summer of attending craft fairs in Hawes, and as I would be camping, I had often gone for a walk in the early evening, but I had never done any on one particular hillside that I used to see while driving in and out, and I had kept telling myself that I should go for a walk there one day.  I could see that there was a line of old lead mines on it, and from looking at the map, I could see that there was a path along that line for about half a mile or more. However, the start point for the path was about a mile or two from the centre of the village, and I had never been keen on the extra millage to my walk after a long day's work on the stall. But this time I was determined to go there, so I drove there to save my legs and time. I just needed to get out on THAT hillside!

As you can see there are also some interesting modern cairns too.

And old mine entrances and drains.

Yes! I know there appears to be an orb, but it was just a bit of drizzle on the lens.

You can see how misty it was between the showers from these views across the valley.

So! One thing I have never been able to do is meditate, well not in the 'Ommmmm!!' sense, but while I was walking along I was quietly mumbling to myself, f-ing and blinding about the two twats that had upset me with their twattery, but of course with the background thoughts about Shamanism as a sort of 'mind-worm' too. Of course, even though I didn't know it at the time, I was doing a form of meditation.

Now I knew the path I was on only went so far, and didn't really know what was at the end, but when I got there, I could see from the map I had three choices. Go back the way I had come, but I always hate to do that, I will always prefer to do a circuit or loop of some kind. I could of climbed over a gate (and maybe some fences) and take a longer, safer, route back to my van. Or I could take a much shorter, but very steep route directly up the hill slope, which would be riskier but get me back to the van much sooner (and then back to the village for a pint or three!). Just at the moment when I was trying to make up my mind, as to which way to go, a rainbow appeared directly in front of me on the longer, easier route. I found myself thinking something like "Bloody 'ell! My pagan friends would tell me that this was a sign! A sign telling me that I should take this route. A sign telling me if I go the other way I might fall and break something, or the like!"  But no! I was still in a bloody minded mood, full of obstinacy and not willing to conform. So I said to myself "NO! I am not going that way! I don't care about the warning! I am going THAT WAY!", which was the shorter much steeper way.

So I set to clambering up the steep grassy slope. So steep I was on all fours. And. And, just at the moment I started to climb that slope I looked up and it happened! My Damascus moment! 

As I looked up I saw a kestrel hovering above me, not the first I had seen that day, but she was there, directly above me, and I instantly knew "That is my totem animal." A flood of images and memories and, and, oh so many emotions and thoughts all came in a seconds rush that will take me so much longer to relate.

(This was actually another bird I photoed earlier.)

So in that rush of thoughts I found myself saying "By this sign conquer!", which is what Constantine the Great is supposed to have said on seeing the Christian Chi-Rho symbol in the sky before going on to win the 'Battle of the Milvian Bridge'. I also saw it as an upside-down Thor's Hammer. I also suddenly remembered other times I had seen the kestrel in significant situations, now with hindsight; she had always been there but I had been too blind to see it (although I now know I have other totem animals and plants, but she was the first to slap me in the face and say "Oi! Wake up!").  But I also knew SHE was a female kestrel, and at the time I didn't know that the falcon was associated with the Heathen Goddess Freya, but as things turned out this would soon be of even greater significance.

As I continued my climb, all these thoughts were mixing around in my head, and I was in the deepest of thoughts, so I hardly noticed the physicality of the ascent, but of course, this also was a form of meditation.

Then I reached a break in the slope, a long wide glacial or river terrace with the remains of a wee bothy on it.

The way back to the van was now easier and away to the left, the way I had been so determined to follow before my 'moment' with the kestrel a few minutes earlier.  But now, over to the right, at the top of the next steep slope I thought I could see a door in the side of the low cliff. I think it is visible in this picture I took at the time. You can see a square line in the exposed rock feature in the upper centre of the picture. 

Now I have a bit of a thing about doors, I can't stand leaving them open, and this was a closed door I 'felt' I could see. I just found myself drawn towards it, despite the steep climb, and it being away from the way I wanted to go, and despite my earlier stroppy, ignore the signs mood, I just HAD to investigate, so set off up the grass covered scree.

As I climbed and scrabbled along, I looked up and suddenly I thought I could see three doors, and the nature of the doors had changed, they now seemed to be open. Looking at the photo, I am not quite sure what I was 'seeing' or where I was at this time, but in theory somewhere in the photo. But which of the three doors was the one I had been drawn to? The door that had looked a bit like the entrance to the 'Mines of Moria' in 'The Lord of the Rings'. I found myself chuckling as I said to myself "Which one smells the sweetest?", in reference to a choice Gandalf had to make inside the mines. So I continued towards one of them, and ended up somewhere very different from where I had expected.

You must remember I was very deep in thought, probably high on adrenaline, and 'seeing' what my mind was seeing, as much as what this next photo shows; and I can't even spot where this is in the previous photo.

Now back in the 90s when I was doing my landscape archaeology PhD, 'Phenomenology of Landscape' was very trendy; that is, if a feature in the landscape, either natural or an ancient structure, etc. looks like 'something' special now, it probably did to those in the past. So, for example, if it looks like a face now, it probably looked like a face to people in the past. Or in the the case of the door I thought I had seen, it may have looked like a door to someone in the past too. And Now. Now! I found myself in what looked like, and 'felt' like a natural 'Earth Mother Temple'; an enlarged gryke(?), like a mini gorge in the low cliff face, and a small brook flowing from it. 

With my heightened senses it reminded me of the entrance to a Neolithic Long Barrow. You can't see it in this photo (and maybe if I go back some of the features I thought I was seeing aren't actually there???), but in front of this natural 'vagina' there seemed to be a small flattish forecourt, with a couple of scree 'thighs', which with a Long Barrow, archaeologists think is where bodies were left for ex-carnation, before the bones were symbolically returned to the 'womb of the Mother'. Of course, in this case, the flowing water from the 'gash' (LOL!) in the hillside added to the symbolism.

Remember, my mind was full of deep thoughts and a multitude of ideas and the recognisance of symbol, all in a cascade, all at once. I just 'knew' I was somewhere 'sacred', I was in the very presence of the Mother, at the entrance between the 'Worlds', or at least I knew that is how the 'ancients' would of 'felt'. And now I was getting some confusion in my head. What should I do now? What should I be doing? What should I not do? As I found myself naturally approaching the entrance to the main feature. Should I 'enter' here? Should I not? Will entering her be defiling her? Does she want me to enter her, what with her flowing dampness? She seemed welcoming to me, as long as I respected her. With all the sexual energy (or was it just innuendo in my mind?), should I masturbate? I know some that would in this situation, but you will be glad to know I didn't. At the time, and ever since whenever I am in a sacred place, I don't actually feel very sexual, even with the physical  fertility of the place being so blatantly obvious. It just doesn't feel right to me. But obviously these thoughts were in my head at the time, as I considered what to do.

I decided to carefully nudge my way in (yes, I know, more innuendo). I then found that there were some cobwebs across the entrance, and this made me giggle, as it was a reflection of most of my sexual partners; and I was careful to try and not disturb the cobwebs.  Perhaps it had been a long time since anyone had been in here? Perhaps no one had seen the significance for a very long time? But one thing I knew from that point was that MY woman has to be an earthy woman, a natural woman, a woman at home in the natural landscape.

I didn't go very far inside her, and I don't know how long I was in there, as by this time the place was being shrouded in lowering clouds, and I no longer had any real sense of time in this magic place. So I was probably soon out and was soon up on top of the hillside, and back in the man-made landscape, following a path back to my van. I have no memory of what I did after this? Maybe I headed to the 'Green Dragon' in nearby Hadraw? Or went back to the campsite and then to bed, or a pint in Hawes? I just can't remember. It doesn't matter. I was just spending the rest of the evening coming down from my spiritual high.

For the last ten years I have kept meaning to return to this special place, and this time take my Medieval Bagpipes, to hold the nearest thing to personal ritual I do. I would like to know how the drone sounds within the Mother? I have played them in West Kennet Long Barrow (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XhBRvTLMd_I), but I have never quite got back to this temple. Maybe I am worried that I will be disappointed, and I wont see what I saw and felt before? Or maybe I am being too lazy? LOL!

Well I am intending to return there next week on my way back from an event in Wales. If I don't do it soon, I might be too old to do it in another 10 years time.

The Tale of James Dennis.

Tonight, 19th July 2018, I will be raising a glass of English ale to James Dennis, one of my 4th Great Grandfathers, because 200 years ago today, something VERY important happened to him. He set sail from Portsmouth, never to return to England again. Not that he was very happy about this, or had intended to do this, as he was onboard the Convict Ship General Stewart. (https://www.jenwilletts.com/convict_ship_general_stewart.htm). In March, he had been convicted of the classic crime of Sheep Stealing, and sentenced to death, but this was commuted to hard labour for life in New South Wales, Australia. And the only reason I know that this was the right James Dennis, and not one of several others living at the time, was due to the DNA test matches I have had in NSW. Otherwise, I had a baptism and marriage dates (1777 & 1801, in Kentisbury, Devon), and the birth dates if his 7 children; but I had no death date. And it was while trying to find out how I was connected to so many people in NSW that I found out that in the long term he ended up in a much better position than the life of a Devon yokel agricultural labourer.

He arrived in Oz at the end of December 1818, aged 41, and was set to work building roads and felling hardwood timber for the flourishing colony. This 'criminal', was of such good conduct and so impressed Hamilton Hume (one of the 1st European explorers of the Darling River that James had been assigned to, and probably 'served' him during his explorations), that in 1824 a petition was signed to let his Devon family join him. But for some reason they didn't, and, of course, if they had, I wouldn't exist! (As I am descended from one of his daughters that got left behind in Devon). Although I did find out from a DNA match that one of his daughters did emigrate to NSW 'voluntarily' after she married. So He continued to impress his 'betters', and Hume gave him some land, and in 1837 he was granted a pardon, and settled down to his new life as a dairy farmer in Fairy Meadow, NSW.

This is where it gets even more 'interesting', and why I have so many DNA matches 'Down Under'. The following year, in 1837, and remembering that he was now 60, and still technically married to his wife back in Devon (but he had been in Australia for nearly 20 years), he 'shacked up' with a 17 year old! :O And proceeded to have 8 children with her over the last 20 years of his life (well actually, looking at the dates, and the fact that she had another child with someone after his death, I suspect that they weren't all 'his', but I need to do some more work as to exactly which of his children I have my DNA matches to, and which ones I don't).

So when did he die? The otherwise missing death date? 1860, aged 82, in Fairy Meadow, NSW. And by the look of his wife's will (as she died only a few years later), they had quite a bit of property by the time of his death, and seems to have been a 'respectable' dairy farmer. So not a bad end for a Devon yokel!

Have I found the right flock of Shephards?

Some of you will know that I have been working on my family history for some time now (over 4 years), and overall I think I am doing a good job, by applying a lot of the historical research techniques I learnt when I was an archaeologist. And, over time, I am adding more facts as more records become available online, or more detail becomes available to existing sources.  However, there are 1,000s of people in my tree now, and I have spent much of my time over the last 3 years just trying to manage and organise the huge amounts of data produced by the various DNA tests I have taken, as well as relatives. There are always areas of my tree that need reviewing and updating, and there are areas which I have never been happy about, or perhaps have lost confidence in. And it just such an area that I have been looking at that has created a bit of a family tree crisis, of sorts, for me. 

Early on, 4 years ago, I thought I did a good job of building the Shepherd/Shephard, etc. branch of my tree. That's my Mum's Mum's family. The only family my Mum really ever knew as a child, the part Mum knows a lot about (other than her grannies Yeo family), and the only branch she is really interested in. And that relates to the names in the Family Bible and Victorian/Edwardian photos we have. And, from Mum, I had heard the family story that our Shephard ancestors were involved in the Battle of Stamford Hill (1643), and I wanted to find out who that may have been.

The problem is with the patriarch(?) of this bit of my tree, and his origins. William Shephard isn't mentioned in the Family Bible, just his kids and grandchildren and the death of his wife. (Except that I now know that that was his 1st wife, and both lists of children have some missing infant deaths. I now suspect there was some falling out over his 2nd marriage within a year of the death of the first).

William, one of my 3rd Great Grandfathers, appears in 3 Censuses, 1841, 1851 and 1861, and his age and birth place is not consistent in them, which is quite common, and I knew he was born sometime in the 1780s or 1790s, and I had ignored the fact that one said he was born in Kilkhampton (Kilk) and another that he was born in Morwenstow, as, after all, our Shaphards were from Stratton! At least as far as Mum was concerned. But then again, looking at the historic facts I had on him, he first appears working as a sawyer in the Devonport shipyards 200 years ago; where he married and his eldest child was baptised. Then other children are baptised in Poughill, Launcells and Stratton, and the censuses have him living in Launcells and Stratton, where he was buried, recorded as 'of Stratton'. And from his 2nd marriage certificate we know that his father was named John, a carpenter, and presumably still alive at the time in 1850. [for those of you not familiar with North Cornwall, all the villages I am talking about neighbour each other].

So my tree beyond William was based upon a baptism in Stratton for a William son of John and Mary of the the exact date hinted by one of the Censuses, and there was a good chain of evidence going back from that for what I assumed was his family.

But there was always some unease I had with what I had 'assumed', and that there may be muddling with the other main branch of Shephards in Stratton, what I call the 'Posh Shephards', the ones with money and/or  were yeoman farmers, and have their tombstones very prominently on view as you walk into Stratton churchyard. So I have been looking at the records again in detail, found additional information, and created a spreadsheet where I could see the information in chronological order, and I could arrange by village and family (as in you can see a series of 'child x of y and z', as well as, perhaps, the marriage of y and z).

It turns out that the baptised William in Stratton has a burial record which shows he is not my William, and that the John I assumed to be his father, also has a burial record, and a will, showing that he was a yeoman. So NOT my family!

So! Because of the work I have done on the spreadsheet, I was able to find an alternative William and John (whose father, John is recorded as a carpenter). And where? KILK! With of connections to Morwenstow (as hinted in the Censuses).

There is a good chain of Shephard evidence in Kilk right back to the 16thC, and, of course, was part of the Grenville estates too, and is close to the site of Sir Bevel's great victory at Stamford Hill.

EXCEPT! That I now realise that if the John Sheppard of Kilk I have now decided was William's dad WAS still alive at the time of his son's 2nd wedding (1850), it would of meant he was 107! And it looks like he may have died in the 1790s, when William was a child.

Normally, when average people aged in their 20s got married in the mid 19thC, it normally states the father's name and profession, but if the father is dead it says 'Deceased'. But both William and his 2nd wife were middle aged, and both widowed. So maybe William just didn't say his father was dead?