Lost priest now safe at E&L office
Last updated 21:58, Wednesday, 06 August 2008
I WAS recently reminded of a bird I had not seen for many years and, like most of the rarer small birds, I had last seen a Ring Ousel in the upper muirs of Tarras.
So undeterred by the hot, sleepy Saturday and with the Common Riding over and all Langholm seemingly asleep, I pointed my car and my old boots up the Whuchells Road. Strangely enough, there seemed to be more cars, horses and even people along the Copshaw Road than I had encountered in Langholm.
So on I passed until at the Tarras Lodge I turned the wheel to follow the Tarras Water, past Tom Irving’s seat, and onward to Grey Banno Skye, where all those years ago I had seen a Ring Ousel near the top of the syke.
But all the time more cars and more good folk were appearing along this winding road and gathering on the green sward across the burn at Arkleton Shiels was an encampment of cars, shelters and many people, either conversing, picnicking or walking about the beautiful countryside.
I often think in astonishment about the woman from the south of England who had rented the house for part of the summer but complained in a variety of newspapers that there were no buses or shops near Arkleton Shiels. She should have been around the area after the Common Riding.
Just beyond the footbridge to the cottage I stopped at the Grey Banno Bridge where I had hitherto espied the rare Ring Ousel. I met a face from the past who told me the tale of the multitudes at Tarras on that day.
Apparently, Jamie Telford, “Of That Ilk” always invites friends and family to mark the erection of a seat in his father’s memory, aka “Teef”. And it’s always held on the day after the Common Riding. A very commendable and charming reminder of a stalwart of the community.
And so to our elusive mountain blackbird. The climb through the long bracken was tortuous and steep, a perfect hideout for adders, but I kept my eyes open and saw nary-a-one. Saturday was a lovely day but every step became harder and warmer until eventually I reached the top of Watch Craigs, which was complete with a few wild nanny goats.
Almost three miles due north, both Roan Fell and Hartsgarth Fell waved to me from Liddesdale. Just as I waved back at the friendly hills, a large blackish-grey bird rose out of the heather with a flurry of wings and was followed by two smaller grey birds. As the cock bird clacked away across the hillside, I could see that the nine-inch bird sported a white-half collar or “dickie”. This was, of course, a rare Ring Ousel or mountain blackbird, which is a summer visitor to the Borders.
It was now time to turn for home but in front of me, on the other side of Tarras, was a large, ugly swathe of dead ground and I realised that it was the stark remnant of the Duncan Rigg to the Ewe Rigg spruce forest where nearly 20 years ago Cornet Simon Richardson had marched me across the hill to Arkleton in the Ewes valley. Simon would doubtless still manage the trek but “a hae me doots aboot the Wanderer”.
My London family and some friends had been up for the Common Riding and the younger members had gone out of my garden to the memorial seat at the top of Jimmie’s Brae. They were intrigued to find that someone had placed or hung an object on the seat, an object of some sinister connotations, at least so the youngsters believed. As indeed it did do.
The metal bar was heavier than I had expected and obviously was designed for some dire deed and the weans were convinced of this.
Eventually, I remembered where I had seen a similar object before and how it would be used but I had no recollection of its name. So I rang my friend Arthur Bell who, being a keen angler as well as a historian, was able to tell me that the tool, for killing salmon and other large fish, was quite legal and was called a “priest”, for some obscure reason.
So if anyone has mislaid or lost a well-loved priest and wishes to reclaim him, please take yourself, along with a description, into the E&L office.
