The other day, walking along the shore
at Houton in Orphir, I came upon a seal on a slipway basking in the November
sun. He was a young seal, going by the
size of him and he rolled about like a puppy, soaking up the rays.
I tried to come closer to him to get a
decent photograph, crept along the shore slowly. I could see when I reached a
certain point that he was interested in what I was doing, and a bit wary.
So I sang to him – as you do – the only seal
song I know, The Great Selkie of Sule Skerry. This is a song that originated in Orkney, travelled
all around the world and came back to me via Joan Baez. It’s about an earthly
woman who has a child with a selkie man – “Oh little ken I my bairn’s father,
nor yet the land that he bides in ...”
The seal on the pier was having none of
it. Two verses in and he was offsky; slipped off the slipway and dived;
surfaced again a bit further out; surveyed me solemnly for a minute or two
before disappearing altogether.
Well, who can blame him! The Baez version of the song ends with the
selkie father’s prediction that the mother of the human/seal baby, will ...
“... wed a gunner good
and a right fine gunner I’m sure he’ll
be,
And the very first shot that e’er he
shoots,
will kill baith my young son and me.”
But the seal on the slipway dived to
bask another day ...
Magnus Pirie and the Seal’s Slipway
The other literary connection with my
young seal friend is that the slipway belongs to a house, built below the high
water mark to avoid paying for the land at the time, which features in the
novels of Lin Anderson as the house of her forensic scientist, Magnus
Pirie.
Here, Lin talks to me on her recent
visit for the Orcrime Crime Writing Festival, about her time in Orkney and how
it insinuates itself into her books:
Robert Rendall
Saturday saw the launch of the long
awaited Collected Poems of Robert Rendall, the draper turned poet and naturalist.
He could read the Orkney skies and seas and tell them in the words of of the
local dialect:
The winter lift is glintan doun
Wi’ tullimentan stars besprent,
As were the very heavens abune
Clean gyte wi’ frosty merriment
(from Celestial Kinsmen)
Tullimentan, a word that means
twinkling, sparkling, is also the name of the monthly Arts Programme on BBC
Radio Orkney. Watch out for the book group featured every month through the
winter.