The Stars at Night in Stronsay.

THE STARS AT NIGHT.

Long time ago, when time began, the stars were invented. Anyway, in the days before anything David and I walked with our father in the cool star-lit darkness of a sharp winter’s evening near to Christmas up the one mile of road from Whitehall Farm to Midgarth to see his Uncles George [Dod] and Alex Tait and their cousin William. The full moon had not yet risen though there was a glow in the sky just below the horizon, the Evening Star hung low down in the sky, the stars very bright and clear. So we had a lesson from our father as we walked along, he pointing out the Plough with the Pointers at its end which showed the way to the immoveable North Star, so important for mariners. There were the Seven Sisters, the Belt of Orion, the shadowy bands of the Milky Way far off across the sky, the shimmer of the Merry Dancers hanging high in the sky to the North, usually a sign of approaching bad weather in a few days. He had tales to tell us about the sea and the stars, family stories I have mostly long forgot of forebears sailing ships from Kirkwall in Orkney to Bergen in Norway with malt and grain and tallow, then on to Alesund to load timber and iron and skins for Orkney, and to Danzig in the Baltic for tar and more skins and wine and silver. Though his father David was a farmer he was called “The Skipper” by the family, and we were told he was a good man in a boat, actually a very great compliment to an Orkneyman.
William, the W. of J. and W. Tait in Kirkwall. retired to Midgarth to end his days with his cousins in Stronsay. He and Dod and Alex were unmarried and had Maggie and Bella to look after them and the house. Father loved an after-day-set with them, and for we boys to be allowed to come along was a real treat. Dod’s humour was endless, even with small boys, his stories of South Africa where he was a piper in the Boer War, ostriches and lions, antelopes and crocodiles. His arguments with our father about the best methods of farming this and that, keeping in touch with Island gossip, or with National affairs, no need for a daily paper. Without any asking if we wanted any, Maggie and Bella came “Ben the hoos” with monstrously laden trays. Their home made cheese tasted different from our mother’s, sharper, their rhubarb jam had more ginger. Usually father got a towering glass of Midgarth home brewed ale, we boys got ginger wine, fiery too. And we sat on the edge of our chairs and listened to our elders.

After tea and the smoking of a pipe by father, the lighting of the paraffin oil lantern to go out and see the cattle, and the stars were there to light us on our way to the byres. That particular and special night was very still, the dark close around us, the lantern light hardly seen, lighting a little luminous circle round our feet. There was a hint of frost to come later. The loud whisper of the sea on the shore below Midgarth, muted by distance, echoed round the corner. Whoever wrote “In the still of the night”, long before the Satins sang it, must have walked to Midgarth with us.

So to the byres. Always start with the feeders byre, always. It took pride of place on all the farms, feeding cattle near to market. In those far off days it was normal practice to girth an animal around the heart to see and confirm if it was ready for shipping the long sea voyage to Aberdeen. A leather covered cloth tape measure was always in father’s pocket, as most other cattlemen. Get the beast up, gently up the stall between the two animals, throw the tape over the back of the one in question and catch it behind the front legs to bring it round. Now do not hold me to measurements, I could be quite far off, it was a long time ago and we boys were not so interested in the weights. Still, I think about six and a half feet was normal, seven feet was about 11 cwts. and ready for shipping to Aberdeen. When we came to Greenland Mains father reckoned that in Stronsay they had to make a beast 11 cwts to weigh ten in Aberdeen, it was a long two day sea voyage from the North Isles and they lost a fair bit of weight compared to sending them into Thurso the day of the sale. The buyers in Aberdeen normally allowed for that weight loss. Our elders compared this or that animal, its breeding, its mother, the Aberdeen Angus bull large in its own stall, who bred it, Calder of Sebay or Flett of Kingshouse, David and I tagging along. Always the byre cat to rub itself against our legs, purring the while, well fed but alert for the odd mouse.
The steading was quiet for the night, cattle all lying down contentedly chewing the cud, a change of position to settle the better, the scurry of a rat in the straw. The byres were warm, the differing smells of yellow and swede turnips and bruised oats and oil cake and the special spices that were added in those days as being good tonic for the cattle. The straw and the hay, the byres clean and bedded down for the night, a few sparrows chirping quietly above us in the rafters. Where have they all gone, few are left.
Still, with Dod and his lantern, we went round the byres, the feeders, the yearlings, the cows with calves, the stable of horses, always a sow in the pigsty usually with a smart litter of many tiny ones. Took a fair while to go round everything but there was no hurry, we did not have a train to catch!! At Midgarth they had a tractor before we did at Whitehall so we boys just had to see that, a red CASE on iron wheels, to sit on it and steer the motionless wheels.
Characteristic of Midgarth was the total tidiness of everything, absolutely nothing whatever left lying around, all tools in their proper place, almost too good to be true. Just no comparison whatever with Whitehall, not that we were untidy but Dod and Alec were something very special, not fussy but very special.
So we set off for home again, the moon now risen but low down on the horizon to the east, the stars not quite so visible in the moonlight but still clear enough. More constellations pointed out to us, a reminder of the disappearing ability of an Orkneyman to find his way round the North Sea and the Baltic by a glance at the night sky. We looked for and saw shooting stars scud across the sky, a bit of a competition between David and myself to spot one first. By now it was a bit frosty so father took a hand from each of us and tucked them in his into his warm pockets, changing sides after a while for the other hand.
Today who knows anything of the stars, what well-lit city street allows more than a passing glimpse of sky, perhaps the Moon, of the constellations almost nothing at all. Still, there must be some boys and girls around who will ask their dad to tell them about the stars, if he still can!!