This is Eigg

by Jaidyn Groth (Australia)

Making a local connection United Kingdom

Charming and a little decrepit, the local pub was bustling with islanders and the few tourists who had stepped off the ferry. Their confusion matched our own, though we’d had a day to settle into life here on this island. I could see the words forming in their heads. ‘One-of-a-kind’. Everything from the post office inside the grocers inside the pub to the locals who looked more Viking than Scottish. Beards were long and unkempt, and smiles were toothy and warm – if not a little intimidating. My coffee arrived moments before Charlie, the singular taximan on the island, walked up to our table with a smile. “We’re moving the coos. Fancy helping?” I exchanged a look with Hannah and Jazz. Hannah, ever eager for a new adventure, nodded. Jazz, who had stepped off the boat that morning and had never travelled before, agreed with a nervous smile. As the three of us left our warm drinks under the guardianship of a very nice waitress, I noticed a dozen of the locals leaving their drinks behind as well. “Just how big of an operation is this?” I asked Charlie. Eigg wasn’t that big. I could walk from one side to the next in under two hours. “It’s old Angus’ herd we’ll be moving.” Charlie gestured to a grey-haired man a few paces ahead. “This is prime entertainment here, lass. You’re in for a treat.” As we walked the half hour or so to Angus’ farm, I counted at least twenty of us, all prepared to help in this cattle drive. Every single one of the locals smiled and introduced themselves before picking up a stick or rod to usher the cows along. “This is really weird,” Jazz whispered to me, but I could hear the smile in her voice. I’d been on this island for little more than a day and Eigg was just about the weirdest place I’d been. Like most of Scotland, the locals believed in community – so much in fact, that in 1997, there was a community-buyout for this particular island. I had to admit, I was impressed. One of the main tourist attractions on Eigg was the Massacre Cave – a sight of early clan warfare. Yet, as the locals laughed and chatted, willing to help old Angus, I couldn’t imagine any bloodshed or war on these lands. “Aye, alright.” One of the farmers stopped in front of us to inspect our sticks of choice. My own boasted quite a reasonable length but seemed more like a wizarding wand than an ushering tool. “It’s easy work. Keep a few feet away and if the coos start tae wander, wave that stick. It’ll scare ‘em back.” All at once, the group started to walk as three dozen cows were let out of their over-grazed land and onto the single-track road. Jazz, Hannah and I eyed each other with anxious smiles and started walking. I felt rather out of place to start. The cows didn’t seem overly bothered by our stick waving and thought it amusing to walk to the edge of cliffs and into trees. A couple of dogs raced around, barking at the cattle. Some of the locals even rode small tractors, racing to catch the rogue cows that decided life on Eigg was far too mediocre. As strange as it was, though, we soon fell into the rhythm of the community. We waved our sticks and laughed with the rest of them. We shouted back calls of affirmation to Charlie and led the cows all the way back to a plot of land near the pub. Though it felt like an age of artful manoeuvring, it was hardly more than an hour. Muddied and tired, everyone wore an identical smile as the last of the cows were locked in their new abode. Jazz and Hannah were gushing beside me when Charlie marched up to us. “You survived your first cattle drive.” He clapped me on the back. “Now, you’re one of us.” I laughed. Of course, here on this tiny island, I’d find home. “What’s next?” He handed me a bottle of whisky. “Now, we drink.”