Tempting the haggi with Islay whisky!
‘The Happy Dance of the Hairy Haggis is a wellchoreographed routine, which in recent studies has been identified as an interesting mix of the ‘Dashing White Sergeant’ and the ‘Ghillie Callum’
IN the flickering candlelight, as the flames of a roaring fire leapt higher and brighter in the hearth, wild winds whirled their way around the farmhouse and old steadings, as the rain lashed down in torrents.
With ferries cancelled, angry seas raged, as a ferocious storm blew in from the Atlantic, battering the landscape in its wake, the cows were hunkered in the shelter of the gullys on the hillside and the sheep nestled into the hedgerows.
With the horses coaxed into their stable with hay and a bucket of sugar beet, frustrations and tensions were mounting among the farming contingent as the time-honoured tradition of the annual Persabus Haggis Hunt had to be delayed yet again due to harsh weather conditions sweeping the land.
A watchful eye across the hillside and there hadn’t been any sightings of any haggis since last year’s hunt. These canny creatures have more than a little ‘nous’ when it comes to the weather and coupled with a good dash of humour when it comes to baiting and cajoling those Haggis Hunters into action, they can be a rare breed to sight indeed.
Spending a large part of the year hibernating in little burrows, conditions must be perfect before the haggis come out to play. With incredibly sensitive little whiskers, which they twitch above their burrows, they can effectively check the wind and rain conditions.
Too much wind and those Hebridean Haggis would soon be blown away to their cousins on the mainland and beyond. Too much rainfall would interfere with the happy Dance of the Hairy Haggis, a well-choreographed routine, which in recent studies has been identified as an interesting mix of the ‘Dashing White Sergeant’ and the ‘Ghillie Callum’, thought to have been inspired in these parts by the frolicking and dancing of yodelling farmers returning home from a night at a Portnahaven ceilidh.
However, modern technology is indeed allowing further research into these ambiguous little critters.
When the storm finally died away, conditions improved dramatically. Temperatures plummeted giving way to clear skies, and bitterly cold, crisp evenings.
Finally, the pre-hunt gathering was convened in the shelter of the Happy Farmer’s old shed. Not an event to be missed, farmers arrived from all corners of the island and beyond. In among the old machinery, piping hot pies, bubbling with fillings of Highland beef cooked in red wine, were quickly guzzled, along with a small customary nip of the island’s finest malts.
Each farmer was equally well prepared for this clandestine mission, togged from head to toe in the customary green waterproofs and wellies, hoping the gamekeepers wouldn’t spot them in their mission.
A quick toast to the Bard of Scotland and they were off, heading into the darkness, hoping those haggis would be lurking among the tufts of hillocky grass out on the Persabus hill.
With each passing season, those farmers’ joints are getting more clickety and clackety, and with a few hip and knee replacements on the Christmas wish list this year, with the best will in the world, the usual ‘coalie backs’ or ‘ leapfrogging’ of farmers was not realistic.
Instead, a handy stile was erected in advance of the hunt to ‘help the aged’ over the initial hurdle of that foreboding electric fence. However, without fail, there’s always one!
As the hunters made their way over the stile and continued their journey through the next obstacle of waterlogged bogland at the foot of the hillside, at the back of the line, waiting his turn to circumnavigate the stile was the wee, dumpy, farmer. As he hoisted one short leg up high into the air to try and reach it safely over the stile, disaster happened.
He slipped and in that split second, grasped out to the inviting electric wire. As his stubby, short fingers curled around it, he received the sharpest of jolts, a shockwave of electric voltage that sent him ricocheting through the