Gathering The Sheep - 4th April 2010
Posted by John McKenna on Monday, April 5, 2010
Under: Crofting
A couple of weeks earlier than normal, the crofters of Tir Mor, Bernera, brought sheep in from the moors Saturday 27 March. Meeting at 8 am, about 10 of us headed south with crooks, quads, and waterproofs from the cattle grid at the Lundal pens. Destination: a set of disused pens along the old Uig road, about half way between the Bernera road junction and the turnoff to Scaliscro House.
A bad bearing on one trailer with a quad slowed progress slightly as the wheel would lock up at the least opportune times (is there ever a good moment for skidding tyres?). The men with quad bikes were away first, naturally, to find any strays. The rest of us stood around a while: Callum (up from Pitlochry to the family croft in Crulivig) shoot off with his old dog and then the rest of us -- having exhausted all reasonable discussion about the views, weather, wind, etc -- decided to head on, assuming the men on motorised vehicles would catch up.
I’ll write as if I knew what was happening. We formed a rough line across the moors, west to east and then walked north, back in the direction of an east-west fence that runs down the ridges of hills (which generally run north-south) to the livestock grid where we first gathered.
Off we went, spaced about 200-300 metres apart. I tended towards the high ground. While not seeing many sheep near me, I could look below down into the valley (where Croft 1 Earshader’s peat bank is) to see that a substantial flock was marching north along the Bernera Road. Only occasionally I saw another person on the hills but felt a sense of security seeing a red van on the road, clearly tracking our progress (as well as keeping the sheep west of the road).
I generally understood where I was and finally got onto the trail of about three rogue sheep. I tried to keep them moving north and not drifting west, as the flank was in a northeasterly direction. This wasn’t particularly difficult, although putting my aluminium stick in a hole hidden among the heather and then essentially falling over it left me with a crooked crook, which as you might imagine is pretty useless. I lost my Polartec cap (shoved poorly into a coat pocket) but eventually found myself reasonably in control of about 20-40 sheep that were moving right towards a fence blocking any further progress north.
I then proceeded to get them on-the-go east towards the pens but heard some shouting to the west on the hills higher than I. Couldn’t understand a thing except the words “west of the loch”. Suddenly confused, I could not understand why I would move the flock west and around a loch. Worried but not convinced that I was directionally confused, I scrambled east to see if indeed I was where I thought I was. BTW, the sheep, with me no longer in pursuit, seemed quite content to bide their time near the fence.) I caught up with Andrew Mackay (another first timer). He said that he was told to stop moving so fast toward the boundary fence.
I went back to ‘my’ lot of sheep and then it began to make sense. All the sheep west of me were now moving east towards the bunch I had held stationary. All the shepherds were in line again, keeping the animals along the fence baring movement to the north but pushing them east toward the pens. A bigger flock is actually easier to keep coordinated than wee ones.
Once back at the pens: a bit of rest (not to mention can of Tenants lager, a Lorne sausage roll, cup of coffee thanks to Chrissie Macdonald, DJ the Grazings Clerk’s wife). Then there was the matter of sorting. Each crofters’ pregnant ewes were put into their respective pens (one year old males and the barren gales go back onto the moors). Each crofter has his or her own markings, which makes for a fairly colourful display. Many ewes were given a dose of something squirted into their mouths. Wrestling with sheep is not too bad. Grab by the horns and then straddle with the head just in front of one’s groin, then a frogmarch of sorts forward....simples!
Lambing should begin next week. All part of the yearly cycle, which included getting the early potatoes into the ground this week and starting to cut the peats next.
A bad bearing on one trailer with a quad slowed progress slightly as the wheel would lock up at the least opportune times (is there ever a good moment for skidding tyres?). The men with quad bikes were away first, naturally, to find any strays. The rest of us stood around a while: Callum (up from Pitlochry to the family croft in Crulivig) shoot off with his old dog and then the rest of us -- having exhausted all reasonable discussion about the views, weather, wind, etc -- decided to head on, assuming the men on motorised vehicles would catch up.
I’ll write as if I knew what was happening. We formed a rough line across the moors, west to east and then walked north, back in the direction of an east-west fence that runs down the ridges of hills (which generally run north-south) to the livestock grid where we first gathered.
Off we went, spaced about 200-300 metres apart. I tended towards the high ground. While not seeing many sheep near me, I could look below down into the valley (where Croft 1 Earshader’s peat bank is) to see that a substantial flock was marching north along the Bernera Road. Only occasionally I saw another person on the hills but felt a sense of security seeing a red van on the road, clearly tracking our progress (as well as keeping the sheep west of the road).
I generally understood where I was and finally got onto the trail of about three rogue sheep. I tried to keep them moving north and not drifting west, as the flank was in a northeasterly direction. This wasn’t particularly difficult, although putting my aluminium stick in a hole hidden among the heather and then essentially falling over it left me with a crooked crook, which as you might imagine is pretty useless. I lost my Polartec cap (shoved poorly into a coat pocket) but eventually found myself reasonably in control of about 20-40 sheep that were moving right towards a fence blocking any further progress north.
I then proceeded to get them on-the-go east towards the pens but heard some shouting to the west on the hills higher than I. Couldn’t understand a thing except the words “west of the loch”. Suddenly confused, I could not understand why I would move the flock west and around a loch. Worried but not convinced that I was directionally confused, I scrambled east to see if indeed I was where I thought I was. BTW, the sheep, with me no longer in pursuit, seemed quite content to bide their time near the fence.) I caught up with Andrew Mackay (another first timer). He said that he was told to stop moving so fast toward the boundary fence.
I went back to ‘my’ lot of sheep and then it began to make sense. All the sheep west of me were now moving east towards the bunch I had held stationary. All the shepherds were in line again, keeping the animals along the fence baring movement to the north but pushing them east toward the pens. A bigger flock is actually easier to keep coordinated than wee ones.
Once back at the pens: a bit of rest (not to mention can of Tenants lager, a Lorne sausage roll, cup of coffee thanks to Chrissie Macdonald, DJ the Grazings Clerk’s wife). Then there was the matter of sorting. Each crofters’ pregnant ewes were put into their respective pens (one year old males and the barren gales go back onto the moors). Each crofter has his or her own markings, which makes for a fairly colourful display. Many ewes were given a dose of something squirted into their mouths. Wrestling with sheep is not too bad. Grab by the horns and then straddle with the head just in front of one’s groin, then a frogmarch of sorts forward....simples!
Lambing should begin next week. All part of the yearly cycle, which included getting the early potatoes into the ground this week and starting to cut the peats next.
In : Crofting
Tags: sheep crofters quad pens lambing ewes
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Barry Shelby, American-gone-native-Scotsperson, Journalist , Photographer, Author and....Crofter located now at Earshader on the Isle of Lewis, Scotland. Barry, based for years in Glasgow, is now with his wife Elizabeth on the Islands off the North-West Coast of Scotland.
