The Shepherd and the Morning Star by Willie Orr

Author:Willie Orr
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Birlinn

Lambing cleek — crook for catching sheep.

Shed — Divide one sheep from another.

Braxy — carcass of dead sheep.

Blaw — Gypsy travellers’ word for meat.

The work with Johnnie was mostly with sheep, but he had a herd of belted Galloways which had to be tested for TB. Normally quite placid, the beasts took on the character of wild bison if we tried to imprison them in a pen. Still, they had to be tested, so we managed to herd them into a stable with a small window high in the wall for light. The vet and myself were shut in to stab each one in the neck with a needle. The bull suddenly went wild, bellowing and climbing up on the backs of the cows. I turned to the vet to suggest a retreat, only to see the heels of his wellies disappearing out of the window. ‘He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day.’

One summer Johnnie sent me to borrow a horse to rake the hay. I think horses and I were created under a different scheme, for we seem to have nothing in common. I arrived at the neighbouring farm and asked to borrow the mare.

‘She’s in the field,’ the farmer replied.

‘How do I get her?’

‘Take that wee pail of nuts and, when she bends down, catch her by the forelock, bring her up here and I’ll yoke her.’

In the field the great Clydesdale mare sauntered over and dipped her muzzle in the pail as predicted. I grabbed her forelock but she just stood up and I was left hanging helplessly in the air. Humiliated, I had to get help and made the morning memorable for the neighbours. Still, I did learn to yoke and handle the mare and spent some contented afternoons sitting on the horse rake as she plodded along the rows in the sun.

I bought another dog, Nell, who developed one very annoying habit. At the march on top of the hill there was a series of peat haggs where the gulls nested every spring. Once when I was gathering sheep out there the gulls, infuriated by our invasion of their site, viciously attacked Nell who fled home. After that, if ever I appeared to be heading for the march, she turned tail and sped back to her kennel. Our sheep often strayed across the march, so I had to rely on the white dog. Our neighbour over the hill in Glenscorrodale was young Willie McConnell, whose son Jack was to become First Minister and Lord Glenscorrodale.

One of the tasks before the summer shearing was to look for sheep on their backs. Sometimes a ewe would roll on her back to scratch an itch, only to find that, with the weight of her fleece, she could not rise again. Gradually her stomach would fill with gas and she would be asphyxiated or, more often, the black-backed gulls would tear her entrails from her distended gut and leave her to die. It was a

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