My husband has been singing Scottish folk-songs. Two friends from New Zealand have just been on holiday to Scotland’s West Coast and loved it. Their trip included Oban, which is where one of my grandfathers came from. And yesterday talking with my Scottish storyteller friend, Jean Edmiston (she sent a lovely comment on last week’s blog), we talked a lot about the sense of place and how powerful it is when you’re storytelling.

A poem from Arisaig:

It must have been all those Scottish connections that made me remember a poem I once came across. It was hanging on the wall of a pub or café (I can’t remember which) in Arisaig one time we were up on that same West Coast. I wrote it down and afterwards I told the story of it and read it out to classes of children on a number of storytelling occasions. Once with an especially responsive class of ten-year-olds, we somehow got the idea of doing the poem with sound effects. I remember auditioning volunteers for all the many different sounds in the poem – the gulls, the whimper, the grey dog running. Then we performed it, me reading the words, them doing the sounds. They were wonderful. It still brings a thrill to my spine to recall it.

So this week, I’m quoting the poem in full because it’s one of the most haunting poems I’ve ever come across and so evocative of a sense of place. Also it affirms the truth that stories come in many forms, including in poems. But first let me expain the background to it’s story. According to a note that accompanied the poem where it hung on that wall in Arisaig,  it so happened that at the time of the Highland Clearances at Rhu Arisaig – and the Highland Clearances were where crofters were cleared off the land by land-owners – one of the families that were evacuated by boat accidentally left behind a favourite collie. Afterwards,  it was often said locally that, at dusk on certain evenings,  the ‘grey ghost’ searches the shore. 

The Grey Dog of Rhu Arisaig – by Roy Ferguson

From the little stone pier at Rhu, when dusk is falling, walk southward on the shore road. The scent of tangle comes floating in from the islands on the sea-wind.
Gulls clamour in the bay as they plunder and harvest small-fry, shaking silver from their wing-tips at the night fishing.
From the rocks below, brown sea-duck put out in bobbing rafts.
On a point of land a heron stands with immeasurable patience, pale eyes revolving, cataloguing all movement.

When the islands fade in the dark grip of night, look about you.
Watch and listen.
On the road just above the ruined croft a shadow flits past – you may hear the whimper of loneliness.

The grey dog is running.
He searches alone. He scents for the peat reek, he whines for the rough hand on his coat and the voice that commands. 
He will crouch in the dark heather, sniff and prick his ears.
His patience is long.
Did he not run the flock on the hill in panting-hot summer, or with the bitter storm off the winter sea and hail in his eyes?

He will run on. On till moonrise.
On till the rocky headlands stand like black strongholds and the bays hold silver mirrors to the shore.
Night will pass and moonset, and at dawn he will herd his flock in the high hills where mists dew the rowan and waterfalls speak softly to one another.

Unseen, he crouches awaiting the high sharp whistle, the far voice and the brittle outline of dusk.
Along the shore road the grey dog is running to his vigil.

PS: Just one picture this week – the poem is so full of strong images, I couldn’t bear to interrupt them. So all you’ve got is the single piece of seaweed at the top. But here’s a question to go with it. Does anyone else use poems as part of their storytelling? It could be a very rich theme.

PPS:

I’ve been trying to find out about Roy Ferguson, the author of The Grey Dog of Rhu Arisaig but I haven’t got anywhere yet.

Tags: Scotland; Rhu Arisaig; grey dog; Roy Ferguson

This entry was posted on Saturday, August 20th, 2016 at 1:02 pm and is filed under All ages, Animal stories, Getting participation, Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.