For the love of lambing

2026 was my seventh lambing, and an unexpected turning point. I reached the tail end of lambing this year, only to look back with the realisation I sought very little help or advice over the preceding weeks, and tackled it with a confidence and ability I hadn’t seen in myself before. It was a humbling moment to see something just click, and all the effort, unknowns, and mistakes over the years turn into a base level of understanding and rhythm with the season. A far cry from that time I turned up at Murdo's door at 1am in the morning in tears needing help and not knowing where to turn - a measure of the person he is that not only did he pull on his boots to follow me down the croft in the dark and lend an experienced hand, but afterward in reflection blamed himself for not proactively stepping in earlier in the evening and coming to check on me and the sheep I was watching. We both learned from our communication that night.

Sheep are what integrated me to life here, the culture, language and practices - it’s something deeper than simply keeping animals, but the gel that binds communities together in the act of shared working and collaboration.  We carry on and work together even in the days we’re tired, moody, angry at one another, and it creates a resilience often missing in today's world. Because without each other, we are less.

I’ll leave you with a thought to ponder, as I look out to the hills and crofts grazed and tended - what does the Western Isles look like without livestock, and without Gaelic throughout its villages...