A crofter's diary: Made of stone

“If a coo sneezes, the fence falls down”. One May, shortly after moving to Garths Croft, this adage became all too clear, although the culprits were ewes, not coos!

I was downstairs early one morning, reaching for the kettle and teapot when my eye was caught by sudden movement outside. By the time I looked up, there was nothing to see …

Toast was made and hot drinks poured and as I sat down, an almighty crash of tumbling ceramic plant pots was accompanied by the unmistakeable panicking crescendo of dozens of hooves. There had been a major ovine incursion into the front garden as ewes and lambs had moved as one to chomp, nibble and decimate early summer growth comprising flowers, lawn, and tree branches!

A gaping hole in the wooden picket fence was identified as the entry point even before I had got my boots on and yet this became an ever-widening chasm by virtue of a sizeable portion of the flock endeavouring to escape by squeezing through the same point, in a state of fleeing excitement, at the same time.

Advocate that I am for the short-term improvement born of necessity, this situation warranted a more strategic response beyond merely closing a gate to prevent access to the field and thus the garden.

The island of Bressay is wholly comprised of sandstone, akin to most of Shetland’s South Mainland. Over almost 400 million years, sedimentary rock has formed through time and pressure. The impressive tabular nature of the stone and the ability to readily extract it means it has long been favoured for masonry projects from the functional, to the grand townhouses of successful Lerwick merchants in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

Could the answer to my sheepy invasions be made of stone?

The high cliffs of the Ord, above the Bressay lighthouse, were significantly quarried for stone in the recent past, the raw material transported down precipitous slopes and loaded aboard boats for onward transportation. Smaller quarry pits are noticeable on the east side of the island, between the Bard and Stobister, at what is now a wilderness devoid of human settlement.

At the north end of the island, the significant workings adjacent to Aith manifest to this day in enormous piles of quarry spoil as fine-grained sandstone roofing slate and paving stones were extracted in an industry that provided significant employment despite its remote location. Small rectangular temporary lodgings can still be observed, testament to what must have been a hard, manual and exposed existence.

And yet the building blocks that gave form and structure to the post-medieval expansion of Bressay and Lerwick took their point of origin from preceding generations, often dating back millennia. A prehistoric standing stone and homestead north of Keldabister, the Bronze Age burnt mound at Cruester (now superbly transported away from the impact of coastal erosion and relocated within the environs of Bressay Heritage Centre), Iron Age brochs and Viking and Norse structures all made use of the old rock to build “The Old Rock”, as Shetland is affectionately known.

As the sheep looked on, I began my first forays into drystone building, having taken a delivery of 10 tons from the Setter Quarry. A foundation trench was stripped and timber frames constructed between which horizontal stringlines were tensioned to allow for an attractive linear run of walling. As autumn arrived, and with several supplementary loads of stone ordered, I had created a protective dyke surrounding the garden at a height that even the most nimble of Shetland sheep would think about twice before scaling!

The subsequent year revealed the true benefit of those endeavours. The barrier from Atlantic gales and salt spray allowed the garden to expand rapidly, foliage readily appearing in previously barren areas. The following spring, I became aware through shrill and excited calls that wrens and starlings were using the gaps between the new stone dyke to nest. Additionally, the benefit for livestock, especially newborn lambs, to seek shelter brought suspicion that it was part of their masterplan all along to coerce me into learning a new skill and improving their habitat and environment! As the years have passed, a new stone yard and a planticrub – a shelter for vegetable growing – have been added with these structures also allowing the establishment of a woodland, shrubs and bushes.

Since 2009, Shetland’s varied and significant geology has been recognised as a Unesco Global Geopark, one of two sites in Scotland and 161 Global Geoparks. The geology has influenced settlement patterns, industry and activity across the isles.

Given the relative absence of trees, stone has provided the fundamental building blocks of life for thousands of years. The next time you are walking in Shetland, cast your eyes across the landscape, from coast to skyline, and see what manner of stone structures are visible and enjoy theorising on their origin and purpose.

Perhaps, like me, it all started to try and keep the sheep out!