Shawbost Games.

Carloway could boast of its prestigious Agricultural Show, and lately its Football Team had achieved some success , under the inspired management of the "Bear". He had adopted the trainer's use of the wet sponge which at that time was looked on as the cure-all for all knocks, aches and pains. Massey and Tormod Nelson were among the first players to feel the cold of the wet sponge. The Bear also had a pail of orange juice, which immediatelyl conferred legitimacy on him as trainer/manager. If truth be told, some of the stalwards of Carloway F.C. actually came from Shawbost. Shawbost was a no-nonsense sort of a place with a secondary school, a large tweed mill and its highly esteemed Free Church. You will remember that Shawbost was also the location of the Avian Free Church, which was the largest animal church in the Isle of Lewis, possibly in all the Hebrides. So Shawbost had a lot going for it, and the residents, animal or otherwise, were rightly proud of their village. The Shawbost Sheepdog Trials, held each summer, were claimed to be second only to Stornoway's in the island's rankings. In the parallel world of the animals, this was always the day when competing cats, dogs and birds foregathered at "Creag an Fheidh" which is a flat plain between the north end of Beinn Bhragair and the hill known as Cleite Rathailt. This was a day of sports and celebration, when the most talented animals demonstrated their prowess and speed, or in other ways entertained the vast throng of spectators, out there on the moor behind Shawbost. The "games" were supported with subsidies and grants, in the acquisition of which the Reverend MacCraw of the local Avian Free Church was foremost . The large animal charities like SSPCA and the RSPB were quickly off the mark in supporting the games, which in their view were unique. (I'd say so). Coinneach Rodd, the local tweed mill owner, made a substantial donation. Some say that Torcuil, his magnificent Scottish deer hound, had a say in his master's benevolence. If truth be told, the animal "stadium" at Creag an Fheidh, was well appointed, with artificial tree stumps and cinder beds provided for the animals' comfort. No special arrangements were required for the birds. For them it was "take your ease where you please". Dogs, cats and birds made their way to Shawbost from every village in Lewis, and probably beyond. The dogs and cats had staggered arrival times, insisted on by the police, and nearer their venues, they were directed down different routes. The dogs posed one extra problem : dogs might be competing at the sheep dog trials, or simply heading for the "games". As Stowlia said, chasing sheep is not every dog's "thing" - why should it be ? The local constabulary were on top of all matters relating to crowd control. All birds, competing or otherwise, simply flew in to Creag an Fheidh, no policing required. The games were formally opened by the Reverend MacCraw, who surprised everyone with an uplifting speech and a short pithy prayer. The games had begun. There were no mixed events between the three species ( Three species because, remember, that dogs who didn't chase sheep could nevertheless enter for the FAC Games, the official designation of the Shawbost games)- F(feline), A(avian) and C(canine). Mr MacCraw thought they stood a better chance of a subsidy or grant if they adopted the impressive acronym, FAC. The running events mainly involved the dogs and cats, and it has to be said that the home grown "coin is cait" took the main honours. Big Torcuil, the Scottish deer hound, swept the boards at the canine cross-country and the Shorter Marathon ( from Creag an Fheidh to the nearest point of Loch Raoinabhat, and back). In the feline running events, there was an obvious correlation between youth, low body weight, and success. For some unfathomable reason, black cats predominated.The vast majority of animal competitors were lean and extremely fit, but one very large tabby cat from Bragair, I think, was referred to as 'obese', but no one understood this word, coming as it did from a teacher from the Nicolson, who was wont to using long or abstruse words. abstruse 'Obese' indeed !
The policing inside the stadium was not done by the local constabulary, but was handled by a team of around fifty members of the crow family. They were impressive, dressed as they were in black cotton blousons, orange berets and all wearing dark glasses in case the sun came out. They called themselves The West Side Crew. To our Dalmore "team", The West Side Crew could only be described as "annasach", an unusual concept in policing, whose members bore the word SECURITY on the back of their jackets. So-Sally and Rupie were fascinated with the crew, their demeanour and their language. They were doing an excellent job inside and outside the stadium. So-Sally recognised their" main man", who was constantly consulted by the other crows, and from whom all orders came. Whispering to Rupie from behind her spogs, she identified him as the crow they met on the road to Shawbost, when they attended the "reitich" of Eilidh (Helen) and Uisdean(Hugh) some time ago. He was the tall shiny crow who appeared from behind a "cruach", wearing a multi-segmented leather cap and a scarf of many colours. He spoke in a strange way, addressing them as "beeches" and asking them "what was going down". Well, here he was now, confidently in charge of fifty odd security crows, all of whom spoke the same patois as their boss, whom they always addressed as Daddyo. " I'm so happy for the lad. Something bad happened to him out in Glasgow, but now he seems fine", said Rupie. "Mo bheannachd air", added Soho. The big birds were now competing in the favourite event "Tossing the Haddock over the Bar" in which the last three surviving contestants were a golden eagle from Uig, a buzzard from Lochs and a giant gull from Five Penny, Ness. The contest was suddenly stopped when the Ness gull was eliminated for eating the haddock, after what was probably the winning throw - probably the excitement, they said. There were many heats before the feline sprint finals took place. Against expectations, Aonghais Ruadh's big ginger tom from Dalbeg tore through the field to lift two gold medals (gold foil, actually). The dogs taking part in the "maide leisg"were very competitive, even aggressive. Their spogs were often wrongly placed to gain an advantage over their opponent, but this was picked up by the referee, Tormod Laidir, who was a past champion in this ancient sport. Our friends from Dalmore were enjoying themselves immensely, and endeavoured to remain close to, and within earshot of the crows from The West Side Crew. The were bamboozled, yet fascinated by their strange talk. Daddyo asked Rupie, straight out, if she was a "square or a cool cat". How does a wee cat from Dalmore answer that ? Another Crew member was saying that Loch Raoinabhat would soon be where the action was at. " It's gonna be a blast over there, really far out." " It's going to be the coolest happening, man - let's split the scene here," said Daddyo, with the hint of a Lewis accent. Stowlia was puzzled, and asked So-Sally what these crows were talking about. Soho threw her spogs in the air, before replying, "A' ghraidh, Chan eil cail a dh'fhios agam." It transpired that the closing events of the games were about to take place over on Loch Raoinabhat. The vast crowds standing on the banks of the loch, were amazed at what they saw. Out on the loch were mallard ducks and Canada geese giving an amazing display of synchronised paddling. They would weave in and out of each other, and simultaneously would plunge their necks into the waters, leaving their rear-ends high in the air. shaking in unison. The final event involved a spectacular display of aerial manoeuvres from the birds of prey. Finally, everyone could see, rising above Dalbeg and coming in over the west end of the loch, a formation of eagles, buzzards and falcons, coming towards them at speed and just above the waves. In pole position, and slightly ahead of the others, was Gillesbuig, our local eagle from Beinn Bhragair. They didn't have this at the Carloway Show - did they ?
By the way, Tiger Navarre's dog Toss won the Sheep Dog Trials.

Glossary : Creag an Fheidh - Deer rock Coin is cait - dogs and cats
Coinneach Rodd - Kenneth Roderick( ? ) Macleod
Mo bheannachd air - Blessings on him
Maide leisg - "the lazy stick"
Tormod Laidir - Norman the Strong.
Chan eil cail a dh'fios agam - I haven't the faintest idea.

On the Crest of a Wave.

"A bhalaich" shouted Iain 'Houdie, "thoir suil air a mhachair." His brother Murdo came out of the taigh dubh in a hurry, followed by Stowlia, Soho and Rupie who, in their haste, knocked over a creel and an old milk churn "anns a chuil mhoine." Their view over Dalmore was the complete panorama, as Taigh 'Houdie was located so high up under the Beinn. With an uninterrupted view of the shore, what assailed their eyes was simply incredible. People were walking on top of the waves, not swimming, not sailing, actually walking. They were standing up as they walked on the waves, looking for all like men in charge of several white horses. Of course, everyone knew of the One who had walked on the waters a long time ago, but no one expected this feat to be repeated again, and certainly not here in Dalmore. Iain and Murdo were, it has to be said, a little afraid, as were the animals, but this was no mirage. There was a group of people, some walking on the waves, while others seem to be swallowed by the waves, only to reappear once more on top. No matter what, it was decided to take a walk down to the traigh, and take a closer look.
As they passed the "turning point" at the road's end, they saw this long narrow van parked opposite the cemetery gate. It was painted with strange designs, in loud garish colours and over its body work were may stickers advertising the places the van had visited - foreign sounding names like Bondi, Nanahoa, Biarritz and Malibu. Even 'An 'Houdie in his years at sea had never heard of these strange places. And to stick names on your van - Well ? Seoras would look pretty silly if he were to stick"Timisgarry" or "Portnaguran" on the side of his wee Austin van. The curiosity of our party grew, with every step they took towards the traigh. When the sea came in view, they witnessed the most fantastic circus, people performing acts of great beauty and skill, on and under the large waves that ploughed relentlessly towards the beach. Stowlia looked at 'An 'Houdi in disbelief, and soon they all sat down on the warm sand to witness a most amazing display. There were four people out there on the waves, and had they not been standing or crouching, they could easily have been mistaken for seals in their shiny black skins. After a while, the four "seals" were carried to the shore on the smaller waves. They were lying full length on large curved boards, which they paddled to the shore, using there hands. As they walked up the beach, carrying these strange boards under their arms, you could see from their shape, that the seals were in fact two men and two women. When they started to get out of their skins, Iain 'Houdie had to calm his friends, who went ballistic with their howling and caterwauling. " Istibh a' charaidean, be quiet. Can't you see they that they are just men and women, not monsters from the deep. Fred was relieved. This big guy came towards the group in his underpants (poor man), and his body all over was the colour of a lightly smoked kipper, though to be fair, there was no smell.
Offering his hand to Iain, he said "G'day, my name is Shane, and I come from Australia." " Hello, Shine, my name is John, and I come from Dalmore." This tall Australian was amazed to see each of the Dalmore crew offering him a friendly spog, which the big fella gently shook. " 'Struth, mate, we don't have such cute little animals back home." Wait till he discovered that these little cuties could also speak. "Let me introduce my friends. This is my mucker, Jason, and these two beauties are Kimberley and Shannon." Each were the colour of a kipper, but for all that, they were tall, blond and handsome. Jason too was in his underpants like Shane, but 'An 'Houdie noticed that these pants had no "sper"(very strange). The young ladies wore bathing suits, the likes of which had never graced Dalmore beach before. No woman from Dalmore was likely to possess a bathing suit, since none of them could swim or felt the need to. There must have been a shortage of cloth in Australia (perhaps war rationing was still in place ) as the ladies' bathing suits had a top part, a bottom part(no pun intended), but there was nothing in between. Iain thought that it would be fun to see Bantrach Aonghas Seumas in a suit like this, with the Orb stamped on the bottom. Iain 'Houdie had an active imagination, at times best kept to himself. Fred had a few questions for the young Australians.
Fred : "What were you doing out there on the sea, and what magic allows you to travel so fast on top of the waves, and standing up, at that ?"
Shane : "No, Fred, we were not walking on the waters; we were surfing the waves, as we say. These long boards allow us to ride on the crest of a wave, and the idea is to stay on board (another pun !) as long as we can. For protection we wear those "wet suits". Like most things, your surfing skills improve with practice, but I have to say that surfing is better in places where the weather is warm and the waves are high, places like Australia where we come from, or California and South Africa. People can spend a lot of money having their surf boards specially designed for them."
Fred : " Shane, do you think we could learn to surf if we practised"
Shane : "What we can do is to take you out on the waves with us, and we'll see how it goes. We will probably have to keep a hold of you, or if you're brave, you can hold onto our feet down at the surf board. So what do you say, cobber ?"
Before Fred could reply, there was an outcry from the rest that answered Shane's question.
Kimberley : " If you guys come back around six, we'll have a kick-out, and maybe we'll have something to throw on the barbie."
So-Sally : " Kick-out ? I don't think so ! and no one is going to throw me on a barbie , whatever that is."

Six o'clock and they were all down on the traigh to see some very high rollers heading their way. Kimberley and Shannon were already in their wet suits and were standing in the surf holding their boards. So-Sally and Filax were the first to take to the waves with the Aussie girls, who held them high, as the boards carried our intrepid piseagean across the bay at speed. So-Sally and Filax were transported, deliriously happy, if a little wet. So-Sally didn't give the kick-out a second thought. Fancy(with aviator goggles) and Fred being dogs of course (well, of course) elected for the more daring option of sitting on the surf boards, holding on to the feet of the boys. Shane and Jason, lying flat on their boards began paddling out through the surf to a point where the larger waves were forming, no easy matter with a dog on your back, hanging on to your "shorts", for all its worth. At a prearranged signal, Shane and Jason stood up to surf the big waves, and Fred and Fancy held on the boys' feet as if their life depended on it - it did actually. "O bhobh, bhobh", cried Fancy, while Fred shouted " Go on, yersel, Wee Man." The surfing boys were enjoying themselves, and were determined to give their "wee pals" the experience of a life time, riding their boards on the crest of the waves. Even Fancy began to relax, although she couldn't see much through her water-logged goggles ( a blessing, perhaps). They were kicking out, walking the nose and using the wind swells. Then they started the most terrifying manoeuvres of all; riding through the barrel waves. Jason and Shane told the pals to hold on tight as they were about enter a long tunnel of water. Man, O Man, as they sped through this long barrel wave, it was as though they were in world of green, blue crystal glass, through which you could see the sky and the white clouds above. Finally they came ashore, soaked and exhilarated. They thanked their friends for a wonderful time, and encouraged the rest of the gang to try their hand at surfing. Kimberley and Shannon took over, and everyone was amazed to see Victoria, the beautifully coiffed blue-cream Persian cat, riding out onto the waves, holding Shannon's ankle very tightly.  Fred asked to have another go at surfing, this time with Kimberley, who was happy to oblige. He held on to her legs very tightly as they passed through two successive barrel waves. The young Australians had explained to Iain and Murdo all about the "barbie"they were arranging for later on, down by the allt. Shannon, it was revealed, is an accomplished diver, and earlier that day had caught some large crabs and two lobsters out at the point near the "Man's Head". John had caught some saithe yesterday over at Bandaberie, and this would be cooked on the barbie along with Shannon's shellfish. The barbecue (barbie, in Australian) was made from a number of large round stones, in which the peats burned, and lying across everything, was a large metal grill, on which the fish, crabs and lobsters would be cooked. The food was continually turned on the barbie, and what resulted was some of the sweetest fare that you could have imagined. Shane remarked how the peat smoke had enhanced the flavour of the food, and Murdo and Iain thought that Atlantic chilled lager added something to the taste of the lobster. The Dalmore crew were used to eating saithe, but who could have imagined sitting on this golden beach eating crab and lobster, as the red sun set in the West.
There were a few more peats thrown on the barbie and a few more tinnies despached before everyone parted as friends. It was unlikely that a surf board would ever again be seen on Traigh Dhalamor, but Kenny Iceland was not so sure. Last night he had a dream.

Glossary.
A bhalaich, thoir suil air a mhachair - Boys, take a look at the beach / taigh dubh - thatched house
anns a chuil mhoine - in the corner peat store / beinn - hill / traigh - shore
Seoras - George / Istibh a' charaidean - Be quiet, friends / spog - paw
"sper" - front opening of trousers / Bantrach Aonghas Seumas - Angus James's Widow
piseagean - kittens / O bhobh, bhobh - O, dear, dear / Allt - river, brook

Making Hay and Old Stories.

It had been another warm day. This was the fourth day of glorious weather, which elsewhere would not be deemed unusual, but in Dalmore, even in July, this was exceptional. The air was warm and balmy and the smell of cut hay hung heavily over the feannaigean. Clover flowers gave off a delicate perfume, and the bees were ever busy gathering nectar. The sky was a pale blue with a few cirrus clouds seemingly motionless, high in the firmament. Down at the traigh the sea was azure blue and no sound was heard, but for the few small rollers to reach the beach. On a day like this, Dalmore really is God's Little Acre. The animals from Taigh Shoudie and Taigh Glass animals had worked hard at the hay making, Iain Shoudie had said, but their contribution was of a specialised nature. They caught the mice (and a few rats), which fled the advancing cuts of the scythe. They carried their fellow creatures to a place of safety, and there released them. This was a policy now favoured by them all, called "catch and release". Fred, the wee Glasgow terrier, could not get his head round this. It was against nature, he said, and certainly against his nature. Still, when in Dalmore, do as the Romans do. The ministrations of the Reverend MacCollie had won over the hearts of his Dalmore "flock". They now lay on the hay, tired but happy, and it was not long before they fell asleep in the shade of a hay stack. Filax, Victoria, Rupie and So-Sally, the cats, were asleep, lying close to one another, while the dogs, Stowlia, Fancy, Jura and Fred were lying on a bundle of hay near the top of the feannaig. Shonnie and 'An 'Houdie were good with the "speal" and had cut a fair amount of hay that day. The hay would be turned in the following days using pitchforks and rakes, to ensure that it was thoroughly dry before it was taken by cart to the barn.
After their rest, Fancy suggested a climb to the top of the Beinn Dhalamor above Taigh Glass, which afforded a magnificent view of the village and beyond. The highest point on the Beinn is an outcrop called Clach Thormaid, and no one knows why this large boulder, stranded here during the Ice Age, is called Norman's stone. Fancy offered himself as guide, this being his own backyard, and suggested that he might mention a few stories , which he had heard in Taigh Glass in the past.
Fancy :- "The dark, dank passage we passed through has taken us part of the way up the beinn. It is known to this day as Sgorr Dhomhnull Duncan, and it is said that it was here that this man, Domhnull Duncan, chose to say his prayers. He was at that time a shepherd on the Dalmore / Dalbeg sheep farm, run by the Sinclair family from their house in Dalbeg. The people in these villages were cleared from their homes about 100 years ago, to make way for many hundreds of Cheviot sheep, which would enrich the tacksman, but disinherit and impoverish the people of the Dailean. Domhnull Duncan was devoutly religious, and a man credited with the second sight. One day, while walking on the Beinn, he was amazed and a little afraid as he looked down at the valley below. Where he might have expected to see a land ravished by hundreds of sheep, he now saw fields of potatoes, and others of corn and barley gently swaying in the breeze. When he reported this strange spectacle to Old Mistress Sinclair back in the farmhouse in Dalbeg, it is said that tears filled her eyes. She knew that their days here were over. Rupie :- Since the time of the clearances from the two villages , and throughout the years of the sheep farm, up until the land was set aside as crofts, this was a period of 60 years. Kenny Iceland claims that one day while emerging from a rabbit burrow, he beheld Dalmore 60 years into the future. He makes no claims of being a seer, but what he saw that day was real enough, and is in his mind, a portent of a time to come. He saw a glen where no crops grow, where sheep have returned in even greater numbers and where the land is not green, but grey, "odhar" you might say. He saw the land again raped by the Big Sheep, as it had been following the clearance in 1850. Neither Padraig Sinclair nor Sir James Matheson can be blamed for what Kenny Iceland saw that day. The future Dalmore made a pitiful spectacle, in which today's industry and thrift would be replaced by greed and indolence. And yet, when we look down on the beautiful village now, it is hard to believe what Kenny saw, but like Cailleach Sinclair's response to Domhnull Duncan's prophecy, one day we too might have tears in our eyes, but for different reasons."
That evening in Taigh 'Houdie, the animals were gathered round the fire, listening to Old Murdo telling stories, and, as often is the case, the stories gravitated to ghosts and the "second sight." After some time, Murdo hushed his excited little friends.
Murdo :- " People somehow believe that ghosts only existed in the distant past, and that nowadays we never hear anything about them. But that is not the case, and to prove the point, listen to this story about events which happened only 30 years ago, in a village near here. It concerns a widow lady called Mary, who died a few months after buying a cow from a man in her own village. She was buried in the cemetery here in Dalmore, but some time later strange things began to happen, which frightened the villagers. Mary could be seen walking through the village still dressed in her burial shroud, with her eyes fixed pitifully on people, as if she wanted them to stop her and to speak to her. Word soon spread and people were terrified of the unearthly spectre of a woman whose burial they attended only weeks before. For days Mary walked down the road through the village, but no one dared speak to her. However, one day, a man who had lived next to her during her life, saw Mary approach and addressed her as follows :-
Man :- "Mary, why in God's name do you still walk this earth, when I know that you died, and saw you buried in Dalmore ?"
Mary :- " My soul is greatly troubled, and I will not rest easy until my name has been cleared of the vile rumour that has been spread about me among the good people of our village. You will remember that I bought a cow from Duncan, some weeks before I died, and he now claims that I did not pay for it, and is claiming the money from my relatives. What he says is a lie, and I cannot rest in my grave unless the truth is told. If you go to my house, you will find under a lamp on the dresser, a paper which is the receipt for the sale of the cow. The man found the receipt, confronted Duncan, and Mary was never seen again."

Glossary.

Feannaigean - strip fields / traigh - sea shore / taigh Shoudie - Shoudie's house.
speal - scythe / sgorr - steep hill / Domhnull - Donald / cailleach - old woman / Dailean - dales

The Travellers Make Camp In Dalmore.

In Lewis, as in other islands of the Hebrides, there was little in the way of motorised transport to be seen on the single track roads, except for vehicles with a very specific purpose. In the early 1950s, each district could boast of having a few buses and lorries, usually owned and run by an established family of entrepreneurs, who probably also had the local shop. There was a small number of vans which" brought the town to the village" - essential groceries, clothes (Co-op Drapery), post office van, mobile library, travelling bank, fish van (herring mostly) and of course the Harris Tweed lorries, keeping the weavers supplied, and returning to the mill with the finished tweeds. To get about the district, you hoofed it, or, as was becoming increasingly popular at this time, you bought yourself a sturdy bicycle, a Raleigh or a Rudge. There was perhaps the odd motorbike, but saloon cars were frankly rare, the local doctor's being such a rarity. The ministrations of midwife and nurse were usually accompanied by bicycle (doctor's car in emergencies). Non-urgent religious matters could normally be dealt with by the minister on the Sabbath. In Dalmore, with its cemetery-by-the-sea, we often had occasion to see a long black carriage passing slowly through the village. Glass-sided to reveal a fine oak coffin, this was a hearse on hire from the Stornoway undertakers, which transported the deceased to their final resting place by the "traigh". In many respects, you could say that this was a van, albeit a very special van, which no one stopped, because it had nothing to sell. Now, a different vehicle had arrived in the village, and it had not come alone. This morning, Rupie was the first to emerge from Taigh 'Houdie. Murchadh had just got the fire going, and there was a good deal of bluish smoke rising from the stone chimney, snaking its way up the "beinn" at the back of the house. Rupie went through the elaborate cat ritual of cleaning herself with her tongue and the deft use of her white spogs. Looking around her, Rupie's eyes happened on a strange scene at the corner of the cemetery nearest the "Allt". There were two round tent like dwellings, with wisps of smoke coming from the top of one, and a small lorry parked at the side of the tents. There was the sound of children's laughter and the barking of dogs. At that moment, Iain Shoudie, cup of tea in hand, came out to sit on the bench, and immediately lit a Senior Service. So-Sally sat close to Iain on the bench, which amounted to a long heavy plank supported at each end by some breeze blocks. At the end nearest the door, there were two white enamel pails used to hold water from the old spring well situated below a large rock at the base of the beinn. Very cold and pure, this water had the reputation of being the best in the village. Iain Shoudie : "A' Ghille, thoir suil air sinn. It's good to see them back in Dalmore. It's a few years since they made camp here." Rupie : " I don't remember seeing them here or anywhere else, but Soho, being that bit older than me, may well know who they are. There was a hint of a smile on Rupie's face as she turned towards Soho. Soho : "I've seen them here twice before, and they camped in the same place by the river. They are the travelling people, probably the Drummonds or the Stewarts from outside Stornoway." Iain : " The travelling people, sometimes referred to as tinkers, are people skilled in the use of tin, making or repairing pots from tin or tinplate. They are often called Highland tinkers, and move camp from place to place in the months of spring and summer. The Gaelic for tinker is 'ceard', but the word has been so misused by some people, that the tinkers themselves dislike this word. They are not that keen on the name "tinker", for much the same reason, and prefer to be called travellers." The two cats, Soho and Rupie, followed Iain down the leathadh, and they headed towards the traigh to speak with the tinkers, if that was possible. One got the feeling that Iain knew these people, because frankly, 'An 'houdie knew everyone (almost). Iain : " Seamus Drummond, I believe ? Drummond: "Yes, Seamus Drummond, and that is my wife and children, and some of the grandparents. We'll be in the Carloway district for the next week . We haven't been here for a few years, so I suspect that we will be able to sell some new tin pails and mugs, and repair any old ones that are leaking." Rupie : " You don't seem to have any cats here with you, only dogs," Drummond : "We never take cats on our travels. Cats prefer a settled existence and our three stay in our home in Stornoway. But, come over and meet the dogs, Cormac the Irish wolfhound and Billy the border terrier. You are quite safe - are they not, boys ?" Tentatively, Rupie and Soho approached the dogs, and were surprised to see Cormac and Billy offer up a spog for them to shake. Even Iain Shoudie had never witnessed such amazing animal behaviour. Cormac was a giant of a dog who towered over Soho and Rupie, but his calm demeanour and measured movements put our cats at their ease. His hair was long and grey and he had bushy eyebrows and a neat beard. The wolfhounds had been the hunting dogs favoured by the ancient Irish kings. The border terrier was a braw wee lad, who went everywhere with his big pal, Cormac. Billy loved this gentle giant, and he looked up to him, in more way than one. Cormac : " Of course, we hope your dog friends will feel free to visit us here in camp." Iain : " Of course, Seamus, pots and pans is not your only business. You are famous for trading in horses, and buying quality scrap metal." Drummond : "Absolutely. As they say 'Man can not live by bread alone.' In our case, we can no longer survive solely on our traditional skills. The world is moving on, and we must move with the times. Yes, we buy certain metals, and in this village, for example, there is a young lad who trades with us in those metal floats which detach from fishermens' nets at sea. I buy them from him at a shilling a time, and sell them on to the fishermen in Stornoway at a profit, of course. Most of the horses bought and sold in Lewis are traded through us. In fact, tomorrow I am going to see a horse in Upper Carloway, and you are welcome to come along. If it is as good as they say it is, then I have a mind to buy the horse. The following day, Seamus Drummond, with his son Angus, stopped to pick up Iain Shoudie and the dogs, Stowlia, Fancy, Jura and Fred in his little lorry, which he happened to call the "pickup" - a very appropriate name, thought Jura. With Cormac and Billy already in the back of the pickup, the addition of the Dalmore dogs, made for a barking mad and excitable crew as they passed through Carloway. When they reached their destination, they all caught sight of this magnificent chestnut horse, a young stallion in full gallop in a field by the road. Cormac intimated that he was pretty sure that Seamus would buy this beautiful horse, if the price was right. Seamus gave the horse careful scrutiny, looking at his teeth and hind quarters and there was also some mention of fetlocks and withers, which must have been important to Seamus, but which even 'An 'Houdie had never heard of before. The price was agreed, and Seamus asked his son to lead the horse back to Dalmore. A few days later, when they went down to see the Drummonds, Seamus was making new pails and mugs from sheets of tinplate. Cormac : " I think that you'll find this interesting, folks. Seamus uses the shears to cut out the shapes of tin he needs. He uses these metal compasses to form circular shapes for the bottom of the pail or jug, and special cone shaped anvils to form the sides of the various vessels. He does this using a hammer with a leather covered head." Billy : "That small lump of silver-coloured metal is called solder which is used to join the various parts together. The soldering iron is heated in the fire and when applied to the solder with some soldering paste (called "flux") the solder melts and is guided along the seam with the iron. The solder must be lead-free as the vessels will carry items of food. The "raw" top edge of the pail or jug is "rolled" to remove its sharp edge, and finally a hooked handle is attached to finish the tin vessel. Jura : They are very skilled, the travellers, at what they do, and I don't believe they would change their way of life for any other. Iain : "Now, Seamus, a lot of people are afraid of travellers. They say that you ask people for food for your children, and being afraid that a refusal would result in a curse on them or their home, people do your bidding." Seamus : "It is true that some travellers have played on the superstitions of people that we can "put the spog" on them. They confuse us with the Gypsies or Romany who did claim these powers. We don't have these powers and I doubt if the Romany have them either. I think people see us an alien race, with a different life and customs, and are a bit wary of us. We have lived the travellers' life now for generations, and will continue to do so into the future. No one needs to have any fear of us. We will be leaving tomorrow, and you're all invited down here tomorrow evening for a bite to eat. I hope you can come." Iain Shoudie : " Dha-riribh, we will be there, Seamus." The following night, Iain and Murdo with their retinue of dogs and cats joined the Drummond family around the large fire in front of the tents. Mrs Drummond and her eldest daughter had prepared various small cakes and other sweetmeats. Seamus produced a bottle of malt whisky which found favour with "Balaich Shoudie," There was much talk and laughter around the fire that night, and the animals entered the spirit of the occasion, playing games that were taught to young travellers (and their animals) from time immemorial. As the evening drew to a close, Seamus pointed in the direction of the traigh, and with the help of the light from the roaring fire, all could see young Angus Drummond riding the young stallion in their direction. Everyone cheered the young rider and his beautiful chestnut horse. The night was almost over, but there was one more surprise in store for the company. Again, looking towards the sea, they could hear something approaching, but couldn't make out what it was in the darkness. Suddenly, lit by the fire, they were amazed to see Billy the terrier riding towards them on the back of his friend, Cormac, very steady at an even trot. There was uproar and applause at this humorous jape. There were fond goodbyes that night, but they all resolved to get together when the Drummonds came again to Dalmore. Glossary. traigh - shore / Taigh 'Houdie - the Shoudie's house / Murchadh - Murdo / beinn - hill spog - paw / allt - river / A'Ghille, thoir suil air sinn - O, Boy, have a look at that leathadh - a slope / braw (Scots) - handsome / put the spog on them - curse them dha-riridh - indeed / balaich Shoudie - the Shoudie boys.

Fred and the Eagles.

When the "Fear Dubh" was around, and he had been around for some time now, no young animal, bird or fowl was safe from him. His territory stretched from New Shawbost in the north through Dalbeg and Dalmore, to Upper Carloway and Garenin in the south. The "Black One" in question, was a large black male mink, a long-term escapee, and these were his" killing fields". He was the sole ground predator in the area, and didn't always kill for food. Killing was often sport for the mink. Normally the mink will kill and eat fish from the river, nesting birds and their chicks and very often hens, cooped up in the hen house. It is in this latter situation that you see the mink at its deadliest and most ruthless. Within a few minutes the mink will dispatch up to twenty hens in a gratuitous orgy of killing. It will feed only on the viscera of perhaps three birds, eschewing totally the flesh. In such circumstances, the large part of his kill is "for sport". In a short time, he might be a long way off, indulging his sport in some other killing field. With an ongoing supply of food, the mink can range far and wide, and is almost impossible to locate, never mind eliminate. For the most part it travels unseen, and often strikes under the cover of darkness. The bloody carnage it leaves in its train is unmistakably the mark of the mink. So, people and animals in Dalmore were alert to the dangers posed by this escaped mink, and took whatever measures they could to trap or kill the "Black One". This could be very difficult, and even fatal for a small animal to attempt.
One morning, a week into the alert, So-Sally and Rupie took a walk down to the "traigh" (the shore), for nothing more than a stroll along the golden strand, caressed by the waves of the Atlantic and overlooked by the oldest rocks on earth. On the way back past the Allt, they noticed that Mrs Tunnag and her family of ducklings were not swimming in the river, as was their wont. Climbing down the sandy "bruach", they followed the river's course, well into Lot a' Bhoer (the Boer's croft), and it was only after a thorough search, that they discovered Mother Duck and her off-spring hiding under a bank of peat, well away from the river. Soho approached the ducks, and could see that Mrs Tunnag was in a distressed state. Her ducklings were hidden from view beneath her. Her beautiful black beak was streaked with tears, and her voice was just a whimper. She told how the previous day she was leading her little ducklings along the river bank, when out of nowhere and in an flash, a large mink attacked and killed two of her offspring. She asked that Soho and Rupie search along the river and bury her beautiful "tunnagean" by the allt where they were reared. The Shoudie cats tried as best they could to comfort Mrs Tunnag and her three remaining ducklings, but in any case, they led them to the safety of the barn at Taigh a' Bhoer.
The animals in Dalmore and Dalbeg convened a parliament the following morning, on the "Creagan" behind Taigh Glass to discuss all matters relating to the "Fear Dubh", the black mink, which in a short time, had brought fear and death to the "Dailean". People might lose a few hens which would cost them some money, but for the animals, this was something else altogether, a seriously frightening situation which would not be easily resolved.

Stowlia : I spoke to 'An 'Houdie about this grave situation, and asked him to alert Shonnie, Murchadh a' Bhoer and Iain Beag na Cnamhan, the three men in the village with shotguns, but the real problem is locating the mink, before a shot is fired.

Rupie : I can't see any of us cats, even So-sally, being a match for an adult male mink. This one, the Fear Dubh, is a particularly "bad stick". We will of course do all in our power to help, but I fear that it falls to the dogs to take the major role in this business.

Jura : Such fine prose, Rupie. I can see the influence of James Shaw-Grant in the Stornoway Gazette. The Sunday Times of London rated the "Casette" very highly indeed.

Fancy : Shonnie has a wee white ferret with red eyes, which he uses to catch rabbits, but it would be useless against this natural born killer. I fear that we must devise a master plan to trap and kill our foe, and one which minimises the risk to us all. There is no time to waste, so thinking caps on, everyone.

Victoria : As experienced and as tough as Tom Warrener and Kenny Iceland are, our hillbilly friends are still cats, and this mink is bigger, faster and extremely vicious. However, they could play an important part in our plan, if and when we devise one. Fancy is right in saying that we have no time to waste. We owe it to those ducklings and hens, to rid our villages of this unnatural predator. He's an American, for goodness sake !

It began to sound like the deliberations of The Famous Five on one of their picnics, with lashings of ginger beer.

Jura : The land cover in the village is a mix of heather, short grass,' machair' land and 'feannags' of corn or potatoes. He must be flushed out from hiding into the open ground. If we can't see the mink, we have no way of trapping him. But, help might yet be on its way. I had earlier asked Shonnie if we could invite my wee friend, Fred, from Renfrew up for a couple of weeks, and Shonnie said 'Yes', if Fred can make do in the weaving shed.

Stowlia : Pardon me, but who is this Fred, and how can he help us ?

Jura : Fred is a "Parson Russell Terrier". Basically, he is a Jack Russell Terrier with longer legs, and, in his case, a rough coat of white, black and tan. He has, as they say, " a nose like God knows". He is very swift, can turn on the space of a sixpence and is both fearless and tenacious. The Reverend John Russell crossed his terrier with a fox terrier to get a dog with longer legs, who could keep up with the hunt, and of course flush out the fox from its bolt hole. I am hoping he can do the same for us with the "Fear Dubh".

Fancy : For aerial reconnaissance, we have enlisted the help of our friends, the golden eagles. Gilleasbuig and his brother-in-law, the Kaiser from Harris are delighted to be part of our mink hunt. Gilleasbuig has asked that the gunmen refrain from shooting at them, as they usually do when the eagles fly high across Dalmore. They are now here to help, not harm.

The next morning, Fred the Terrier was introduced to the rest of the hunting party, and nodding in the direction of the eagles, he whispered very quietly to Jura "Big Man, who the hell are they ?" Although Fred was a dog with attitude, he and the eagles seemed to bond in no time. (a little time, perhaps) This really had to be seen to be believed. Iain Shoudie and Murdo rehearsed them thoroughly in what would be required in the hunt for the Black One. Fred and the eagles would have the leading roles, while everyone else would act as beaters, but only when directed to by Jura, overall coordinator of manoeuvres. The eagles and Fred rehearsed call signs that would be used. The shrill cry of the birds and Fred's piercing bark announced the start of the hunt. Yet they realised that they could not underestimate the guile and intelligence of this deadly animal.



Kenny Iceland and some of the "beaters" kept to the northern parts of the village and hill, familiar to Kenny. He and his party would move in a line, raising hell by barks and mewing, in order to force the Black One towards the "machair" where the grass was short. Kenny would inspect any rabbit burrows or overhangs, as the hunt progressed. Tom Warrener and party covered the other half of the village. Jura, hunt coordinator and Fred, occupied the centre ground, at all times ready for action. Gilleasbuig and the Kaiser were" the eyes in the sky", as they say, taking long slow sweeps across the glen. With these lads flying high, shotguns were now redundant, for which the boys from Beinn Bhragair were thankful. Having done one sweep of the valley, it was repeated by broadening the net.

There was no "result" on Day One, but towards the end of the second day, the eagles spotted the undulating movement of a black animal at Geodha an Uillt, near the cliffs on the north side of Dalmore Bay. Jura barked her orders that everyone, except Fred and the eagles, were to fall back. Fred was soon in place by the cliffs, waiting for instructions from Gilleasbuig, who with the Kaiser, was circling on high. At the word, Fred nosed his way from one rabbit hole to another, partly entering each, and giving a muffled bark. There was an explosion of action now as the Fear Dubh emerged from a burrow. Fred moved quickly and carefully towards the mink, who turned menacingly towards him. As Fred halted, he heard and felt this phenomenal rush of air behind him, to see Gilleasbuig carry off the Black One in his mighty talons to a high "creag", a little way off. The eagles were left with their prey, and the animals could live their idyll of life in the "Dailean". Mrs Tunnag resumed her life on the "allt" with her ducklings, the eagles went back to Beinn Bhragair, and Iain Shoudie sat on the bench outside the "taigh dubh", smoking his Golden Virginia, and holding his animal audience in thrall with tales of derring-do, "always new, and always true". Stowlia just smiled.

Glossary.

Allt - river/ bruach - steep bank/ tunnagean - ducklings
taigh a' Bhoer - the Boer's house /Murchadh - Murdo
Iain Beag na Cnamhan - Wee Iain "Bones"
machair - shoreline grass land/ feannags - strip fields
Geodha an Uillt - the cove or creek of the burn /creag - rock
Dailean - the Dales (Dalmore(big dale) and Dalbeg(small dale) )
taigh dubh - "black" or thatched house.

Tha dithis cait a posaidh an a Siabost ( Two cats are to marry in Shawbost )

"Two cats are to marry in the village of Shawbost". This was the headline in the Stornoway Gazette, and if Donnie Large had not written the article, people would have taken this as some sort of April Fool, even in mid July. "Could this be true," people asked, " and if it is, God help us all. Can you imagine what the Daily Express will make of this ?" " Well," said Catriona Bheag, "the Express features the adventures of a walking, talking bear called Rupert, who wears a 'guernsey dearg agus briogais buidhe', and yet everyone I know thinks nothing of it. Two of his friends are Bill Badger and Edward Trunk; so if you can believe in a bear, who lives in a cottage with his mother and father, and travels to fantastic places around the world with a badger and an elephant, then why are you so surprised at two young Lewis cats getting married ?" Everyone agreed loudly with Catriona, ( they usually did) and wished the couple a happy life together.
Of course, every cat ( dog and bird too) on the West Side knew of the forthcoming wedding between Eilidh (Helen) and Uisdean (Hugh), two of the nicest cats one could ever know. Many of them had attended the "reitich" (betrothal) the previous year in Shawbost, and that was a night to remember. " O, A' Bhalaich", said Donnachadh Bronach, " Poor Uisdean will need all of his nine lives from now on." With the withering look on Catriona Bheag's face, Duncan was quick to point out that it was joke ( "A joke, Kate, a joke, for goodness sake !") Kate smiled. "You seemed to have forgotten, Duncan, that Helen too has nine lives, and, I'd wager, a few more more besides." Those from the mainland might have been surprised that the Leodhaisaich and the Lewis born animals were so good "aig A' bheurla" (at speaking English). People in Shawbost were nowadays very much at ease with English. The bilingual programme had been a great success in this district. A facility with English, and particularly as it related to the finer points of bureaucracy, was well established, and thoroughly rehearsed in the popular evening classes. Photocopies of blank forms relating to grants and subsidies were issued repeatedly, and the class required to fill in the appropriate answers in English, until all were word perfect. Carloway had mastered the nicities of "the English", a long time ago,
The day of the wedding had arrived, and the "Dalmore Crew", all of whom had been invited, were getting themselves washed and spruced up, over at Taigh Glass, with Dolly and Shonnie in attendance. Washing, drying, brushing and combing were the order of the day. Victoria, our recently crowned beauty queen, was carefully brushed and her "fur coat" sprinkled with Lily of the Valley talcum powder. A little pink bow was attached on top of her head, between her ears. She looked a picture ! The three lady dogs were thoroughly washed down at the Allt. After a good shake, and a dry-out in the wind and sun, Stowlia, Fancy and Jura went up to the house, where Dolly gently brushed their coats. There was a sheen on Soho's beautifully black coat, like a panther in miniature. Guinness and Rupie were attended to, and were now eager to make their way to Shawbost. Down from the hills came Kenny Iceland and Tom Warrener, our two rabbit hunters, who normally shied away from crowds, but who now craved the company of their own kind. They had come "down from the creeks" , and were happy to make the acquaintance of some old friends. Seoras (George Macleod) had offered to transport them all to the wedding in his dinky little Austin van.
They were singing" puirt- a- beul" on the way to Shawbost. Tom Warrener was up on his hind legs doing a hornpipe, holding his front spogs high enough in the air to touch the roof of the van. What happy times this brought to mind, the times he danced on the mess table to entertain the sailors during the war. Kenny Iceland wondered what had possessed his pal, Tom. Perhaps he had descended from the hills too quickly- "the bends", so to speak. As they approached Shawbost, there were white flags to be seen, all along the sides of the road. The crowds of animals were growing apace; They were in the main cats and dogs, but there were some sheep and lambs, and a fair number of birds. Mrs Tunnag from Dalmore was quacking loudly, and presumably happily, as she waddled down the road past Loch Grinabhat, with her ducklings in tow. While Helen and Hugh's wedding did not quite have the cache' of a Burton-Taylor extravaganza, there is no doubt that it would be the largest "latha posadh" ever seen on Lewis. To say that this wedding was unique in the annals of the animal world, did not quite do justice to this marvellous event. But the national press and television companies knew that this was a story that would run, and run. The Stornoway hotels were full. Journalists like Mary Marquis, Magnus Magnusson and Ludovic Kennedy were translated to Stornoway to cover the big show in Shawbost. David Attenborough was there to interview the young feline newlyweds, from the mammalian perspective, of course. They were to be married in the Avian Free Church at Fibhig in Shawbost, because it was a huge building and because it was the only animal church in Helen's village. The Dog and Cat Church was too far away in Doune. The service was to be conducted jointly by the Reverend MacCraw of the Shawbost Free and The Right Reverend MacCollie of the Established Church in Doune.
The crow family were gathering in numbers, as were many species of sea birds. Dogs and cats of every description and from every place were heading for the Shawbost Avian Church. The wee birds like the wrens and sparrows had flown in early for front row seats. Gilleasbuig Mor, the golden eagle from Beinn Bhragair appeared, out of the blue, so to speak, with his wife and her brother, the Kaiser from Harris. O, Man- What a sight that was, as they appeared out the mist like three massive Vulcan bombers. The Dalmore group were by now very excited as they entered the church. There was a capacity congregation, and anybody who arrived now would need to take a pew outside on the "creagan"(no pun intended). The ushers at the church were a group of very cool rooks , in their shiny black attire, collectively known as the "Blues Brothers", and inside, on either side of the pulpit sat a dozen carrion crow, elders of the Shawbost Avian Free Church. You could not say that these lads were "cool". There would be no organ nor hymns, only the Psalms of David, precented by that Nightingale from Ness, Kate Mhor, sister of the bride.
Eilidh and Uisdean made a fine couple as they took their vows in front of the two reverend gentlemen, and as they walked out the church as a married couple of cats, a ripple of applause spread through the church, which actually brought a smile to the faces of the two ministers - in a Free Church, mind you !
Press and television were there in numbers, but Donnie Large was the first to interview Eilidh and Uisdean for the "Casette". They were all there, the BBC in Stornoway with Neen Mackay, BBC Scotland with Mary Marquis and Ludo Kennedy for the "Tonight" programme in London. The Sasunnaich found this story hard to swallow - Imagine! Iain Shoudie did well as interpreter for the animals, who were constantly interviewed by the media scrum. Doing his " Dolittle" job, Iain was making a "packet" of money - "torr airgead, a' bhalaich, torr airgead". He spent some of it(most, actually) with his brother, Murdo down at Doune, in the company of Fyfe Robertson and Ludovic Kennedy. Iain did enjoy this kind of attention.
The wedding dinner was al fresco (a new departure), and to accommodate the vast number of guests, multiple sittings were required, right into the night. Helen and Hugh attended each sitting, seated at either end of a long white sheet. People came forward and placed their gifts in front of Helen. Of course, the married couple did not eat at all the sittings. The food was excellent and the entertainment and dance would be remembered for a long time to come. Everything prepared for that day and everyone who attended, were testament to the love the people had for Eilidh and Uisdean
Our little friends from Dalmore arrived back home in the early hours, exhausted but elated. The electric light(the only one in the house) was still on in Taigh Shoudie, and from the music and laughter, one might think that the wedding ceilidh had shifted from Fibhig over the beinn to Dalmore.
No one could say when this ceilidh would end.

Glossary:
1. guernsey dearg agus briogais buidhe...... red jumper and yellow trousers
2. O, a' bhalaich ..... O, boy!
3. Donnachadh bronach ..... Duncan, sad and mournful
4. Leodhaisaich .... Lewis people
5. puirt a' beul .... mouth music, when there are no musical instuments
6. latha posadh .... wedding day
7. creagan .... hillock
8. torr airgead, a' bhalaich .... lots of money, boy
9. Sasunnaich .... English people

The Carloway Agricultural Show, otherwise known as the Cattle Show.

The biggest event in the District of Carloway was the Annual Agricultural Show, held each summer on the first Wednesday in August. Better known locally as the "Cattle Show", it drew large crowds of people from all over the Island of Lewis, and competitors from Shawbost to Garynahine (indeed, "all points West"). It was the longest surviving show on the island (since 1911), known affectionately as "Lewis's Premier Show". By dint of sheer numbers, it could easily have been called "The Sheep Show". The title "Agricultural Show" was possibly to appease those in the Board of Agriculture or the Crofters Commission who were keen to see crofting adopting more modern agricultural methods, but obviously, on a smaller scale, by introducing better breeding programmes in cattle and sheep, mechanising hay making for winter feeding, and reclaming the moorland using fertilisers, sand and surface seeding. Still, it would always be known as the Cattle Show.
The weather was fair when the big day came around, (old memories, fine weather?) and many animals would be transported to Carloway to compete for prizes at the show. Dalmore's "Famous Five", Soho, Rupie and Stowlia from Taigh 'Houdie and Fancy and Filax from Taigh Glass were going along for the first time, as were their city cousins, Jura, Victoria and Guinness. I know - they were domestic animals, but the show committee had decided in their wisdom to include, this time round, competitions for Best Dog in Show, and for Best Cat. Victoria, the blue-cream Persian was entered in the Cat Show under her pedigree name of Victoria Chantelle Lautrec, and , as they say, she was definitely 'up for it'. Jura, the Black Labrador Retriever, was not so keen, but Fancy said that it would be a "hoot", or something "cheery" like that in Gaelic. The main competition animals, cattle, sheep, horses and poultry were either walked down to the showground at Carloway or ferried there by tractor and trailer. Donald John would be in charge of Daisy, Shonnie's beautiful brown Ayrshire milk cow, and Donald, his older brother, would accompany Morag, the young heifer, the finest specimen of Shorthorn you would ever see, this side of Stornoway. She had already been sold to Angus Macdonald, well known auctioneer and butcher from town, for a princely sum. Daisy and Morag and their two "buachaille"(herdsmen) left early to walk to Carloway. Jimmy, the horse, didn't have the necessary "hands" to compete. He wasn't bothered. Everyone in the district took pride in their sheep, and consequently, entries in all sheep categories were high. Shonnie was entering some wedders, lambs and a powerful looking Blackface ram. They would go down by tractor, in some cages improvised for the purpose. Getting them onto the trailer had been difficult, until Guinness the Gall (stranger) suggested that digestive biscuits were regularly employed as bait by the shepherds on the hill farms of the mainland. And it worked. They mounted the trailer and entered the cages, just like sheep, as the saying goes. Shonnie gave Guinness a gentle clap, in way of thanks, and Guinny-Goo was happy to advance farming know how, in this crofting community .
"Balaich Shoudie" went along with Stowlia, Soho and Rupie, their "domestics". Kenny Iceland, the" cat who comes in from the cold"(occasionally) was capable of making up his own mind whether to go to the show. 'An 'houdie would leave him a "Dolittle" note, but it was unlikely that Kenny would come. Like Garbo, he wanted to be alone. The Shoudie Boys made quite a show as they emerged from the "taigh dubh", wearing their special visiting clothes - newish cap, black polished shoes etc. Iain wore his "Chicago" hat, with the brim pulled down over one eye, just like that fellow Dillinger in America. There would be many old friends at the Carloway Show, and Murdo and Iain knew that the "comhradh" (conversation) flowed more easily with a few drams of whisky ; it also made them better judges of the cattle and sheep paraded in the ring, they believed.
The show wasn't just about animals. Experts were at hand to judge knitwear, articles fashioned in wood or metal, woven Harris Tweed, vegetables grown on the croft, scones and cakes baked in the croft house and a variety of other categories. There was an open piping competition with entries from Callanish to Canada and from New Shawbost to New Brunswick. Highland games were in most cases trials of strength as was the final event of the day, the inter village boat race involving perhaps a dozen boats down on Loch Carloway, by the Dunan. In fact, the last event of the day (by rights it was night) was the Cattle Show Dance in the Drill Hall, which started around midnight, when none of the Dalmore crew would be present.
Usually a noted personage was invited to open the show, a person who had advanced his standing during his lifetime, people like lawyers, scholars, journalists and even teachers, of which there was no shortage. Even a peer of the realm deemed such an invitation a great honour. This year, for some reasons, the "Comm-it-tee" had failed to engage a "duine mor", a man of stature to perform the opening ceremony. Why? No one could, or would say ! Fancy however heard from some of the Garenin dogs that a last-minute replacement had been found, an Aberdonian of no particular note, whose instant acceptance amazed some members of the committee, leaving them no time to reconsider their invitation, if that was their wish. Word of this spread quickly among the animals at the show. It would be a little later before the people learned that a Mr. Grant would open the Carloway Agricultural Show. His name was understandably absent from the show programme, a name which otherwise would have meant little to the people of the district, bar a few, to whom it meant something else again. A tall, heavy set man, Grant projected a faux bonhommie, and a barely disguised bombast. He had been involved in a variety of businesses, but never for too long. He would never risk his own money on any business venture, preferring to invest in other people's . There was not a grant nor subsidy which he didn't know about, and for those who asked, he was generous with advice, since this increased his standing, but at no cost to himself. His reputation grew among those who were like-minded. His meanness was a study in pathology, but this was not easily discerned, as it was masked by his largesse, using multiple expense accounts. He would often tell people that he was a millionaire, which he probably was. No matter where, he would regale perfect strangers with stories of his business acumen and his wealth. "I'm a millionaire, you know." This became his mantra. He would shortly open the show.
" Fancy, who told you so much about Mr. Grant ?", asked Filax. " It was one of the Garenin dogs, whose master got useful advice from Grant about a sheep subsidy" replied Fancy.
Mr. Grant's cri de coeur was "I love Carloway", a bit like the sycophants who extol their love of America, yet he was only in Carloway for two weeks a year. He was jocular, in a "hail fellow, well met" sort of way, possessed of a host of jokes, which he had honed over the years. He did not allude directly to his millionaire status, but the crowd were left in no doubt that here was a man of import. Finally, the Show was declared Open. Stowlia was awakened by the ripple of applause around her.
There was much to see at the show, and Iain 'Houdie would be guide and interpreter to the Dalmore animals for the rest of the afternoon, unless Iain was called away on an urgent matter of state, which could be settled, he said, with a small libation. Over at the sheep pens, the judging was taking place. Large men of rosy complexion, tweed jacket and plus-fours, were pulling and prodding the sheep, examining their teeth, and engaging in other technical procedures, unknown to anyone other than the big man in the fore-and-aft- hat, who was probably your head man (no pun intended). Shonnie's sheep lost out to some beautiful specimens from Breasclete and Garenin, but they would not return to Dalmore in the trailer disgraced, by any means. Anyway , there was a whole packet of digestive biscuits to ease the pain. Stowlia, Fancy and Jura were keen to help them on board ! However, in the cattle ring, Shonnie was doubly successful with first prizes(and money) for our lovely Ayrshire cow, Daisy and that superb specimen, Morag the heifer. Some moments to savour !
Horses measured in hands (why - asked Jura ?) and hens and cockerels all came under the scrutiny of an appropriate expert. The large blousey lady handling the poultry was known to all as "Cailleach a' Chearc" ( the Old Hen Lady). Sloppy pronunciation could lead to the lady being called "Coileach a' Chearc" (" coileach" - cockerel) and that would not do.
The Dog and the Cat Shows were not as per Crufts etc., but were only small local "beauty contests", not to be taken too seriously. Jura, the smooth coated Labrador Retriever, pipped Toss Macarthur for top dog, but to be honest, this wasn't Jura's thing at all. Now, the Cat contest was very much Victoria's thing. As a pedigree Persian, with a fabulous blue-cream coat and blazing orange eyes, she was the feline equivalent of Zsa Zsa Gabor. This was a more bitchy, back-biting affair than the Dog Show, and after much scratching and caterwauling, Victoria Chantelle Lautrec was declared the winner. Away at the back of the crowd, the unmistakable head of Kenny Iceland appeared, with the hint of a smile. A few eyes popped as Vicky moved towards the judge to receive the red rosette as first prize. Her studied walk, with her bushy tail prescribing a figure of eight, might be thought of as "sexy", but I'm sure that was not her intention. The male moggies at the front of the cat walk were too excited to care. However, the result did not suit the small cat-coterie from Garynahine. "That c-et is a ringer, Sylvia. I'm sure I saw the bugger at the Tolsta Show". The old bodach from Shawbost could not get his head around the idea of blue cream. "They must be getting a subsidy for that. I wonder if Bodach Grant knows anything about this"
The traditional island games of tossing the sheaf, putting the stone and lifting the weights was dominated by the success in all of them of young Alex Beag from Heather Street- this was a great feat considering the strength of his opponents. Tossing the caber is never a feature of Lewis games, because there are no trees on the island, The inter village tug-of-war resulted in victory for the men of Upper Carloway. The final event of the Show was the boat race down on Loch Carloway, to which the entire show crowd repaired. This was no Henley Regatta, but an event requiring strength and tactics. They were rowing for their village - reputations were at stake. These were large wooden, clinker boats requiring six oars to propel the vessel a measured distance down a sea loch. The oarsmen were Lewis bred and many of them would have had sea-going experience. As the boats surged through the waters, it was easy to transport your mind to a time when the birlinns of the Macdonalds, Lords of the Isles, could be seen coming up Loch Carloway, oars moving as one, and banners stiff in the breeze.
" What a day, what a day", said Iain 'Houdie which Soho, his cat, thought might have been slightly slurred. "And why not", she mused, "air latha a' Chattle Show"

PS. I nearly forgot. The men from Doune won the boat race.