Haggis
Haggis is a traditional Scottish dish, but truth
to tell, was very
popular in English cookery until the 18th century. Although there are
many recipes, it is normally made with the following ingredients:
sheep's pluck (heart, liver, windpipe and lungs), minced with onion,
oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock and traditionally
boiled in the animal's stomach for several hours. In this state it
somewhat resembles other stuffed intestines, otherwise known as
sausages, of which it is among the largest types. There are also
meat-free recipes specifically for vegetarians which supposedly taste
similar to the meat-based recipes.Haggis is traditionally served with "neeps and tatties" which is mashed turnip (Scots generally refer to Swedish turnips as 'turnips' rather than 'swedes', hence "neeps") and potatoes.
In some ways, the northeastern U.S. dish ‘scrapple’ resembles haggis, however scrapple differs in the following ways: it uses pig offal instead of sheep offal and cornmeal instead of oatmeal; it is a meat loaf rather than a sausage; and it is baked instead of being boiled. As a result, the appearance and the flavour vary significantly.
Other similar dishes are the ‘balkenbrij’ from the Netherlands, pölsa (made with beef rather then sheep) from Sweden and saumagen (made from pork) from Germany.
Nobody can say when or where the first haggis was consumed. One theory, put forth by food historian Clarissa Dickson-Wright, is that haggis was invented as a way of cooking quick-spoiling offal near the site of a hunt, without the need to carry along an additional cooking vessel. The liver and kidneys could be grilled directly over a fire, but this treatment was unsuitable for the stomach, intestines, or lungs. Chopping up the lungs and stuffing the stomach with them and whatever fillers might have been on hand, then boiling the assembly — likely in a vessel made from the animal's hide — was one way to make sure these parts did not go to waste. The more likely origin however is from the days of the old Scottish cattle drovers. When the men left the highlands to drive their cattle to market in Edinburgh the women would prepare rations for them to eat during the long journey down through the glens. They used the ingredients that were most readily available in their Highland homes and conveniently packaged them in a sheeps stomach allowing for easy transportation during the journey.
Etymology
Odd Facts and pop culture
What is Haggis
How do you actually make Haggis
Recipes
Majestic haggis of the glens proves elusive for US tourists
The Haggis Hurl website
A Royal Tale – The Haggis beast
Canadian Tales of Hamish Iain Iye Haggis, Q.C.
‘Address to a Haggis’
Etymology
The etymology of the word haggis is unclear. Mainly a Scottish word now, haggis was a more common word in Middle English. Most theories trace it to words meaning "to chop" or "to hew", but there is no agreement whether the word was borrowed from Old English haggen, French hachis, or a Scandinavian root, such as Icelandic hoggva- and haggw- . Along a different line, it may derive from Old French agace, "magpie"— the magpie is known for collecting odds and ends, and a haggis is made up of odds and ends. The Oxford English Dictionary suggests that the is no evidence to show that it might come from the French word hachis "hash", but is unable to find any other derivation.
Recitation of the poem 'Address to a Haggis' by
Robert Burns is an
important part of the Burns supper.Haggis is traditionally served with the Burns supper on January 25th, when Scotland's national poet, Robert Burns, is commemorated. He wrote the poem Address to a Haggis, which starts "Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!" During Burns' lifetime haggis was a popular dish for the poor, since it made use of parts of a sheep that would otherwise have been wasted.
Haggis is widely available in supermarkets in Scotland all the year round, and the cheaper brands are normally packed in artificial casings, rather than stomachs, just as the cheaper brands of sausages are no longer stuffed into animal intestines. Sometimes it is sold in tins and you can simply microwave it or oven-bake it. Some supermarket haggis is largely made from pig's, rather than sheep's, offal. In addition, practically all Scottish fish and chips shops will sell their customers a haggis supper. This consists of a small single portion haggis dipped in batter and deep fried with chips; it provides a hot, filling, high-energy meal for a cold winter's day. There are also fast-food shops that sell haggis burgers, with a patty of fried haggis on a bun.
Odd Facts and pop culture
Since many countries' food safety laws outlaw some of the ingredients in haggis (for example, United States law forbids the sale of any animal's lungs for human consumption), expatriate Scots and Scots descendants overseas have been known to engage in haggis smuggling to obtain true Scottish haggis. At least one American company produces haggis for the U.S. market. The Caledonian Kitchen, a Dallas, Texas based gourmet business, began producing both a Highland beef and vegetarian haggis commercially in 1999. Its haggis is in wide distribution throughout the US.
Haggis is an amusing subject for many people. Those who ask a Scotsman for information about it will rarely get a straight answer. A common "answer" to the question "What is a haggis?" often goes along the following lines. "A haggis is a small four-legged Scottish Highland creature, which has the limbs on one side shorter than the other side. This means that it is well adapted to run around the hills at a steady altitude, without either ascending or descending. However a haggis can easily be caught by running around the hill in the opposite direction." (see Wild Haggis) Surprisingly the humorous myth is believed by many tourists, thus they are shocked - and possibly disappointed - to hear the truth. See also sidehill gouger.
Haggis is also used in a sport called haggis hurling, involving throwing a haggis as far as possible. The present World Record for Haggis Hurling has been held by Alan Pettigrew for over 21 years. Haggis Hurling originated in a highland village where the women threw 'pieces' (meals) to their menfolk on the other side of a local river which was difficult to cross.
'Haggis' is sometimes used as an unusual surname, such as for the animator/games programmer Mata Haggis, creator of the Matazone website known as The Other Side, or the screen writer Paul Haggis, known for his work on Million Dollar Baby, Due South, Thirtysomething, and other film and television series. In names it is alleged to come from Anglo-Saxon meaning 'a woodsman's hut', and a Lord Haggis rode on the third crusade with Richard the lionheart.
A dish consisting of the heart, lungs, and liver of a sheep, calf, etc. (or sometimes of the tripe and chitterlings), minced with suet and oatmeal, seasoned with salt, pepper, onions, etc., and boiled like a large sausage.
Not all of us are privileged enough to make Haggis. If you live in the USA your government has decreed many of the ingredients unsuitable for human consumption, and cannot be purchased in the shops!
First the ingredients
1 sheep's stomach bag plus the
pluck (lights, liver and heart)
1 lb Lean Lamb
6 oz Oatmeal
8 oz Shredded Suet
2 large Onions, chopped
about 1/4 pint beef stock
Now to make it.
Soak the stomach bag in salted water overnight.
Place the pluck (lights, liver and heart) in a saucepan with the windpipe hanging over the edge. Cover with water and boil for up to 2 hours hours. Impurities will pass out through the windpipe and so you need to put a basin under it to catch any drips. Drain well and cool. Remove the windpipe and any gristle or skin..
Mince the liver and heart with the lamb. (Add some of the lights before mincing if you wish.)
Toast the oatmeal gently until crisp and pale golden brown.
Combine the suet and onion with minced mixture. Season well and add enough stock to moisten well. Pack it all into the stomach bag, filling it just over half-full as the stuffing will swell during cooking.
Tie the bag tightly with string. Prick the haggis all over with a needle to stop it bursting as it swells.
Put an upturned plate in the base of a saucepan of boiling water, stand the haggis on this and bring to the boil, and let it boil slowly for about 4 hours.
Makes enough for 6 to 8 helpings of delicious haggis.
Robert Burns and the Haggis
These days poets do not write odes to hamburgers, but Burns had his address to the Haggis, and hence the 25th January, Burns Night is the high point of haggis in Scotland
Robert Burns said in his Address to the Haggis:
Fair
fa' yer honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudden race!
There you have it, enjoy your HaggisGreat chieftain o' the pudden race!
By John Carvel: November
27, 2003: The Guardian
The enduring myth of the haggis still contributes to the Scottish
travel trade, according to a poll yesterday that suggested a third of
US visitors believe the delicacy to be an animal. As government
statisticians reported the number of North Americans visiting Scotland
fell from 606,000 in 1998 to 504,000 last year, the haggis
manufacturers Hall's of Broxburn revealed evidence of the
misconceptions from an online survey. The poll of 1,000 US visitors to Scotland found 33% thought haggis was an animal; 23% said they came to Scotland believing they could catch one. The company said it had interviewed one tourist who thought the haggis was "a wild beast of the Highlands, no bigger than a grouse, which only came out at night". Another claimed it sometimes ventured into the cities, like a fox.
Haggis is traditionally made out of a sheep's stomach filled with liver, heart lung, oatmeal, suet, stock, onions and spices.
Despite the pull of the haggis, the number of foreigners visiting Scotland declined last year, while visits to the UK as a whole increased by more than 1.3m.
The Haggis Hurl website: http://www.holistech.co.uk/haggis.php
A haggis is a small animal native to Scotland. Well when I say animal, actually it's a bird with vestigial wings - like the ostrich. Because the habitat of the haggis in exclusively mountainous, and because it is always found on the sides of Scottish mountains, it has evolved a rather strange gait. The poor thing has only three legs, and each leg is a different length - the result of this is that when hunting haggis, you must get them on to a flat plain - then they are very easy to catch - they can only run round in circles.
After catching your haggis, and dispatching it in time honoured fashion, it is cooked in boiling water for a period of time, then served with tatties and neeps (and before you ask, that's potatoes and turnips).
The haggis is considered a great delicacy in Scotland, and as many of your compatriots will tell you, it tastes great - many visitors from the US have been known to ask for second helpings of haggis!
The noise haggis make during the mating season gave rise to that other great Scottish invention, the bagpipes.
Many other countries have tried to establish breeding colonies of haggis, but to no avail - it's something about the air and water in Scotland, which once the haggis is removed from that environment, they just pine away.
A little known fact about the haggis is its aquatic ability - you would think that with three legs of differing lengths, the poor wee beastie wouldn't be very good at swimming, but as some of the Scottish hillsides have rather spectacular lakes on them, over the years, the haggis has learned to swim very well. When in water, it uses its vestigial wings to propel itself forward, and this it can do at a very reasonable speed.
Haggis are by nature very playful creatures, and when swimming, very often swim in a group - a bit like ducks - where the mother will swim ahead, and the youngsters follow in a line abreast.
The long neck of the mother keeping a watchful eye for predators.
This does however confuse some people, who, not knowing about the haggis, can confuse it with the other great indigenous Scottish inhabitant, the Loch Ness Monster, or Nessie as she's affectionately known. From a distance the tourist can easily mistake a family of haggis out for their daily swim, as Nessie, this of course gives rise to many more false sightings, but is inherently very good for the tourist industry in Scotland.
The largest known recorded haggis (caught in 1893 by a crofter at the base of Ben Lomond), weighed 25 tons.
In the water, haggis have been known to reach speeds of up to 35 knots, and therefore coupled with their amazing agility in this environment, are extremely difficult to catch, however, if the hunter can predict where the haggis will land, a good tip is to wait in hiding on the shore, because when they come out of the water, they will inevitably run round in circles to dry themselves off.
This process, especially with the larger haggis, gives rise to another phenomenon - circular indentations in the ground, and again, these have been mistaken by tourists as the landing sites of UFOs.
I hope this clears up some of the misconceptions about the Haggis, that rare and very beautiful beastie of the Scottish Highlands (and very tasty too).
I have included here as much factual material as possible, although there are many gaps in this subject, and some of the information has to be mere speculation.
No-one has as yet been able to ascertain the sex of captured Haggis, and partially because of this, scientists assume the haggis is hermaphroditic.
This may also be a product of evolution, and does explain the logistic problems of bringing two haggis together - after all, sure footed though the beast is, if two were to mate on a Scottish hillside, it is a long fall down, and a slip at the wrong time may very well result in a reduction by two of the total haggis population.
What is known about Haggis breeding is that, several days prior to giving birth, the Haggis make a droning sound - very much like a beginner playing the bagpipes for the first time - giving rise to the speculation that the bagpipes were indeed invented in Scotland, simply to lure unsuspecting haggis into a trap. At the onset of this noise, all other wildlife for a five mile radius can be seen exiting the area at an extremely high rate of knots (wouldn't you if your neighbour had just started to play the bagpipes?). The second purpose of the noise seems to be to attract other Haggis to the scene, in order to lend help with the birth. This also gives rise to the assumption that Haggis are tone deaf.
Haggis normally give birth to two or more young Haggis, or "wee yins", as they are called in Scotland, and from birth, their eyes are open, and they are immediately able to run around in circles, just like their parent.
The wee yins are fiercely independent, and it is only a matter of weeks before they leave the parent, and go off foraging for food on their own, although it is perhaps a two or three year period before they are themselves mature enough to give birth.
Most Haggis hunters will leave the wee yins, due simply to their size, but when attacked by other predators, they are still able to emit the bagpipe like sound, which again has the effect of very quickly clearing the surrounding area of all predators, and attracting other Haggis to the scene. This results in a very low infant mortality rate, with most wee yins actually making it to adulthood.
The lifespan of the Haggis is again an unknown quantity, but from taggings done in the Victorian era, we know that some haggis live for well over 100 years.
The breeding habits of the haggis
Now, here's an intelligent question (at last!). I've been wondering how long it would take someone to ask this one, so I have already researched the reply. When the wee yins are born, the female haggis, like all aquatic, avian animals, suckles her young. Haggis however are sticklers for protocol, and the male wee yins suckle on the left side, while the females are restricted to the right side. (In the very few instances where all the wee yins are of one sex only, this does cause the odd little problem).
The effect of this is for the male legs to develop in such a way that when they mature, they run in a clockwise circle, while the females run in anti-clockwise circles. (I say circles here, but really, it's only when a haggis finds flat ground that it runs in circles). Now of course, mating couldn't be easier.
As the above two are quite innocently going about their daily foraging, it is a certainty they will meet, because as the male forages in a clockwise direction, while the female goes anti-clockwise, provided they are at the same level, they will shortly meet, and the inevitable courtship ritual ensues - the male asks her out, gives her a box of chocolates, a bouquet of flowers, and takes her to the pictures. (Just joking actually - Haggis don't go to the pictures - they don't have any money).
Now before I depart this subject, I must mention the puir wee yins where the whole family are unfortunate enough to be of one sex only. Well, the mother requires relief (like all mammals) in this situation, so she sets up a rota where some suckle one side one day, and then move over to the other side the next. The unfortunate results of this procedure are two fold. First of all, the puir wee yins don't know what sex they are, and grow up with a major identity crisis, but even worse, they grow up with three equal length legs.
Many years ago, these strange beasties did not survive long, but in more modern times, provided they manage to find a road, they will make their way down from the hills, into the towns and cities, provided they don't get flattened by passing traffic. Here they forage in dustbins, and get what food they can from passing kind hearted people, but alas, they will never find the joys of mating, as they are destined never to meet another haggis, and even if they do, they would be too embarrassed to say anything, because they are never quite sure whether it's a male or a female.
Sad, isn't it ?
Haggis
and the ancient Romans
It is a well known fact that the ancient Romans built two walls across the country here, called Hadrians Wall, and Antonines Wall. Historically, these walls were built to keep the marauding Picts out of "civilised" Roman "England", but perhaps there was another more sinister motive.
While out on a reconnaissance mission one day, a group of Roman soldiers stumbled on to a haggis during the mating season, and in the ensuing panic, they ran back to the camp and reported they were being pursued by the devil.
The camp commander, being an unimaginative type of Roman, not given to all this ‘namby pamby’ philosophy that was all the rage at the time, slapped them in irons for a few weeks. Unfortunately, rumours began to circulate round the camp that the devil was alive and well, and living just up the road. Discipline wore a little thin, and the commander decided to do something about it.
It so happened that in the camp at the time was a Greek slave, who among his many other duties, was employed as a part time interrogator of prisoners because he seemed to be able to understand the locals a lot better than the Romans.
He was kitted out with all the latest designer gear - leather skirt, Roman Army Approved safety helmet, sandals, the lot, sent to the chariot pool, where he was issued with the new model Fiat single horse power chariot, and sent off to scorch the rumours.
Off he went, marvelling at the air conditioning in the new model chariot, the fixed axle suspension, and the acceleration of the single horse power plant. The handling too was superb - a lot better then the standard issue Skoda models he had previously driven.
Eventually, he arrived at the place the soldiers had described earlier, and crawling through the heather, came upon a wonderful scene - a haggis with four wee yins!
This man, being a slave, and far from his own family, was touched by the scene, and decided such a noble beast should be allowed to live in peace, so he slowly backed out of hiding and back to the chariot.
Imagine his disappointment when he found the damn thing wouldn't start - no amount of kicking or poking would help, it the power plant had died, and he was now faced with a long walk back to the camp.
Off he set, but as luck would have it, he was caught by a group of Picts returning from a Picts versus Celts football match. Fortunately, the Picts had won on this occasion, and were in good spirits, so he was allowed to live, with only a few superficial bruises, and flesh wounds.
Suddenly a sound rent the air - the sound of a Haggis call - sensing a carry out around, the Picts disappeared in the direction of the noise, shouting, "Haggis", "Cairry oot", and "We are ra boyz", leaving the little Greek lying in the road.
Shortly after that, he was rescued by a fleeing Roman patrol who had just encountered a group of disgruntled Celts who had also been at the match, but as their team had not been so successful, had not been in quite such a forgiving mood.
The Greek, and the battered patrol arrived back at the camp, and were interrogated by the commander, but in view of his weakened condition, all the Greek could say was, "Hags". (His command of the local dialect was still poor).
Now, as everyone knows, at the time, hags in Roman terms referred to witches, and this, combined with the state of the returning patrol, convinced the commander the devil indeed was living in this strange land, so he command a wall be built to keep these evil creatures from invading civilisation. The Greek, in honour of his bravery, was awarded an honorary plebiscite, and given a new model twin horse Lancia chariot. The Romans never could pronounce his name of Onissopolis however, and took to calling him Hagis instead.
The name obviously stuck, and perhaps your friend is a descendant of this brave little man.
Chapter 1 - Hamish in Point Pleasant Park
Chapter 2 - The Journey to Balmoral Mills
Chapter 3 - Hamish at Balmoral Mills
Chapter 4 - The Banquet
Chapter 5 - Travel to Pugwash with Willie Haggis
Chapter 1 - Hamish in Point Pleasant Park
"Ah, this is good!" said Hamish to himself, as he snuggled beneath a cluster of heather bushes near the Soldiers' Monument. Getting that far into Point Pleasant Park was never easy for any haggis, but Hamish knew paths that few humans trod and he came here often.
Like the Haggai, heather is native to Scotland. Scottish soldiers stationed in Halifax after it was founded in 1749 were posted at the Park, to keep watch over Halifax Harbour activity. When they shook out their bedrolls, heather seeds fell to the ground and took root. Today heather grows freely in the Park. The largest heather fields surround the Soldiers' Monument which honours soldiers who made the supreme sacrifice during the great wars.
Hamish often went to the southern tip of the Park, and spent hours gazing out towards the harbour mouth. The lighthouse on Devils Island fascinated him, with its soothing beam of light at frequent intervals. This is the beginning of the sea route from Halifax to the world, and that world includes Scotland. Hamish spent the past year planning a trip to Scotland, and his departure was drawing near.
For now, Hamish was content to rest among the heather and munch on heather seeds which had fallen to the ground. There were always enough to feed a haggis, without depleting the seed needed for next year's crop of heather.
Folks strolling through the park, or stopping to build fires in the barbecue pits by the shore, could not see the haggai who frequented the heather fields. But Hamish could easily see them, when he peered beyond the trunks of the heather plants.
A father and son held firmly on a string as they guided their kite into the sky. Another family were gathered around the fire they built in a barbecue pit. Even in the heather patches Hamish could smell the aroma of steak sizzling over the flames, but it did not tempt him. Haggai are vegetarians, and heather seeds are what they like best.
It was time for a snooze. Hamish curled up under heather bushes beneath some low brush where tall trees stood. No one could detect him here, but he could see the sky and the soft white clouds. Soon he would be in Scotland. He thought of Great-Aunt Sophie, and the stories she told him during his last visit to the mother country. He looked forward to her cheery smile, and to her tasty scones which she baked over an open fire. Great-Aunt Sophie was the best of cooks.
Hamish was born in Nova Scotia (New Scotland in Sassenach tongue), in the Garden of Eden of southern Pictou County. As an adventurous young haggis, he often went to the Garden of Eden cemetery where a life-size statue of Mary Sutherland in her wedding dress stood on top of the tombstone which guarded her grave. Hamish's ancestors came to Pictou County on the Ship Hector in 1773, and settled near Eden Lake. These pioneer haggai named the area `Garden of Eden' after the first home of the haggai, the original Garden of Eden where Gaelic was the spoken tongue (though the serpent was speaking English).
Fate played a cruel trick on Hamish's parents. They accepted an invitation to a banquet honouring Rabbie Burns' birthday one January, and were never seen since. Sinister tales of dining on *real* haggis meat were told by those at the banquet. Hamish, now orphaned as a young teen-age haggis, found compassionate humans to give him shelter and a home. To ensure that everyone Hamish met knew that he belonged with these kind humans, they gave him their personal names. Today, he is known as Hamish Iain Iye Haggis, Q.C.
The Q.C. distinction, Hamish earned himself. A sassy, fun loving haggis with a big heart and much haggis sense, Hamish is a favourite among his kith and kin *and* the humans whom he trusts. They often shake their heads at his latest antics, but admit he is "Quite Cute".
In the summer of 1979, during the first International Gathering of the Clans in Nova Scotia, The Hon. George Haggis, awarded Hamish the Quite Cute (Q.C.) distinction, in a ceremony beside the MacDonald cairn in the Garden of Eden. Great-Aunt Sophie had come to Nova Scotia for the momentous occasion and, at the request of Hon. George Haggis, pinned the Q.C. medal on Hamish's lapel following the tributes and speeches made in his honour.
Beneath the heather bushes, Hamish was soon sound asleep. The fresh sea breeze wafted over him, and soothed his slumber. The sea gulls squawked a lullaby. Hamish dreamed of Great-Aunt Sophie, and of his cousins in Scotland. There was much to do before he embarked on his journey, but today was a day of rest.
Chapter 2 - The Journey to Balmoral Mills
"Oomph!" Hamish grunted, when the alarm clock shattered his slumber. He hated rising before sunrise, but today there was no help for it. He stretched out his long leg and whacked the 10 minute snooze button. "Ah," thought Hamish, as he snuggled back beneath the covers. "Today is going to be a long, long day."
Angus MacDougall would be at the door at 6 am, to give him a lift to the Acadian Bus Lines terminal in Halifax. Angus was the regular driver for the Halifax to Antigonish route, and the only driver Hamish trusted. He felt safe sitting on the bus window beside Angus's left elbow. He preferred trips when the bus stopped at most villages and communities along the winding highway #2 to Truro. There was more to see on the side roads, and Hamish found "people watching" entertaining.
This evening, Hamish was scheduled to speak at a dinner meeting of Haggai gathered at the Balmoral Mills grist mill in northern Nova Scotia. He had to arrive in Balmoral Mills by 3 pm, and there was no time to waste. Hamish jumped out of bed on the second alarm, and quickly groomed himself for the day.
Stifling a big yawn, Hamish stirred the porridge he had set the night before, added a bit of milk, and turned on the burner to medium. Soon he had water boiling for tea, and was spreading gooseberry marmalade over whole wheat toast. This was Hamish's last jar of gooseberry marmalade, but he would get a fresh supply in Balmoral.
It was a sturdy breakfast, to fortify Haggai and Humans alike. Hamish gave a long stretch, rinsed his dishes, checked his briefcase for his speech, and went out on the verandah to wait. It would never do to keep Angus waiting, for the bus had to leave on time.
"Now, there's a sunrise! commented Angus, as the bus entered the village of Shubenacadie. Rays of fresh gold and soft purple were reflected on the cloud formation in the eastern sky. A gentle haze was on the hills, and the dew on the fields answered the light of the rising sun. Few places are more beautiful than Nova Scotia at dawn.
Three passengers got off the bus at Shubenacadie, and two Micmac Native people settled in the front seat. They were long time friends of Angus, and Hamish enjoyed their lively banter all the way to Truro. The highest tides in the world happen near Truro, where the Bay of Fundy empties upstream along the Salmon River. Hamish always enjoyed watching that powerful rush of water, but today there was no time. He had to get to the grist mill.
It was almost ten o'clock when Angus stopped to let Hamish off 15 miles north of Truro, by the road to Earltown and Balmoral Mills. "Good luck with your speech!" Angus called after him, though he knew Hamish was an accomplished orator.
It was a long way to travel, as humans do along the gravel and paved roads to Earltown, but Hamish knew the Haggai shortcuts and was in Earltown at noon. It was not far now, to Balmoral Mills, and it was lunch time.
Hamish slipped into the Earltown Village Cemetery, paid his respects at the grave of "John MacKay, the Old Miller", and scurried into the bushes at the top of the cliff overlooking Earltown. It was a sunny day, not too hot and not too cold. The autumn leaves were still on the trees in their rich red/gold/orange splendour, interlaced with some stubborn green leaves and evergreen trees. Hamish settled in his favourite spot in those bushes, not far from the headstone of John MacKay, and unwrapped his lunch.
He enjoyed visiting each of the four cemeteries in Earltown, where the first Scottish pioneers were spending their final earthly rest. Unlike the others, this cemetery offered a majestic view of Earltown nestled below the cliff. To the north, just beyond the road to Denmark, lay the original land grant of John MacKay and beside it, the land grant acquired by his brother, Neil MacKay. The brothers were born and brought up on the croft of Rossal, in the Parish of Rogart (Sutherland, Scotland), and emigrated to Nova Scotia in 1818.
At the invitation of the earlier settlers in Earltown, they settled there and John built the grist mill which served the community into the late 1800s. It was erected above the river, just before the waterfall dropped into a deep ravine. Nothing was left now, except the wooden highway bridge which once abutted the large door of the grist mill, and a millstone in the waters of the ravine. And the winds, which whispered tales of past accomplishments and courage, hardship and victory among the early pioneers.
Humans cannot understand those wind whisperings, but the Haggai can. Hamish always enjoyed listening, but time was getting on. He gave the last of his lunch to a friendly squirrel, preened himself, and was on his way through the back Haggai trails to the grist mill John MacKay's son, Alexander, built in Balmoral Mills.
He arrived at the Balmoral grist mill early. This mill is still in operation, and maintained as part of the museum complex of Tourism Nova Scotia. It had closed on October 15th for the winter, and would not open again until May. The water wheel, in recent years powered by electricity, was still and silent.
Water still poured over the dam on the Matheson Brook, beside and beneath the grist mill, and Hamish ran to the centre of the walkway across the dam to bask in the tranquillity of the magnificent autumn scenery there. Red, yellow and orange leaves floated on the surface of the pond above the dam, and the trees along the banks of the Matheson Brook were mirrored in the still water. This was a favourite haunt for photographers, professional as well as amateur, and Hamish understood their attraction for it.
It was only 2:00 pm, and time to rest before visiting his friends near the grist mill. No one was about, so Hamish stretched out on the walkway and let the sound of water rushing over the falls lull him to sleep. It would be a short nap, but it had been a long journey from Halifax by bus, then on foot along the Haggai trails. Hamish deserved a rest.
By pre-arrangement Sally, a kindly crow, woke Hamish at 2:30 pm. He thanked her, then scampered along the walkway and up the wooden stairs to the park opposite the mill. He worked the pump at "Archie's Well," and was rewarded with some fresh, cool water to drink. "Ah," said Hamish, "There's no water like this in Halifax!"
Then he pumped some more water into a small pool, and groomed himself again. Some of his wiry fur was unruly, but fresh water and a haggis comb worked magic on it. He brushed his teeth, and gave a long stretch so his fur would fall in natural formation.
Then Hamish was away, along the trails to the nearby home of his haggis friends. He arrived at 2:55 pm, fashionably early in Haggai rules of etiquette. "Purrfect!" thought Hamish, who was proud of his innate skill of punctuality, and waited for his friends to answer his knock.
Chapter 3 - Hamish at Balmoral Mills
Hamish stretched out his long leg, and adjusted it on the footstool his friends placed in front of his comfy recliner hair. His knee was aching, as it always ached after a long journey. Sally Haggis knew just what to do, and sent one of the bairns upstairs to get the heather oil. She took a big fluffy towel out of the cabinet, and it laid across the open oven door to get snuggly warm.
Her husband, George, poured a glass of heather whisky for Hamish, and another for Great-Aunt Jane who lived with them. Great-Aunt Jane brewed the whisky for the household, with a secret formula which she kept to herself. Hamish complimented her on her whisky, making Great-Aunt Jane's face glow with pride.
"Straighten your leg out a bit more," Sally told Hamish, when she began to rub the soothing heather oil into his knee joint. George brought over the warm towel, so Sally could wrap it around his knee. Hamish relaxed, as the heather oil eased his knee joint.
George poured a glass of whisky for Sally, and one for himself. The bairns, Angus and Nancy, sipped on root beer. It was Sally herself who made the root heer, from her own special combination of extracts from various roots secured in the forest around their home. She never allowed it to ferment, so it was safe for the bairns.
It was a cosy scene, as they relaxed by the fireplace with its blazing log of wood. Angus and Nancy sat on the floor near Hamish, hoping he would tell them some of his wonderful stories. Hamish always enjoyed his room, with bookcases all around and pictures on the walls of earlier times in Balmoral Mills and Earltown.
There was a picture of the grist mill which John MacKay, the `Old Miller', built in Earltown in the 1820s. It showed the waterfall below the mill, and Hamish shuddered at the height of the falls. The water dropped into a deep gorge which continues for miles. Even a nimble haggis wouldn't want to scramble down there.
The old mill was gone now, but there was a millstone left at the foot of the waterfall. The Nova Scotia Museum wanted to remove it, so the water would not wear away its edges. But, descendants of the `Old Miller', still living on his original land grant, insisted it be left in the river. "Has anything more been done about the millstone?" Hamish inquired.
George stroked his wiry fur for a few minutes, then replied: "I doubt if it will be removed within our generation. I must say, I don't like the idea of the stone being taken down to Halifax. It should stay in Earltown, or it could be brought here. The `Old Miller's" son, Alexander MacKay, built our mill here in Balmoral. We could craft some interpretative plaques, to place around the millstone, to honour the `Old Miller' and his four sons who followed him in the profession. The bank across the road from the mill would be the ideal location."
"I think that's the best solution," said Hamish. "But will the `Old Miller's' family agree to that?"
"I do not know," replied George. "It is much better than letting the millstone go to Halifax. It will be hard to bring it up out of the gorge, but humans have clever ways of doing things. We should whisper the idea in their ear while they are sleeping, several times this winter, so they will think it is all their own idea!"
George leaned back in his recliner, and gave a hearty chuckle. It always amused him, how the haggai controlled the thinking of humans. The humans never suspected it, for it was a secret the haggai kept to themselves.
"I'm worried about the millstone beside the brook in Rossal, where the `Old Miller's" father had his grist mill in Rogart," Hamish told his friends. "I'm going to Rossal when I am in Scotland, and I will see what I can do. Did you know that Rossal has been sold, and it is no longer in the MacKay family?"
"I had heard that," said Sally. "Should we bring that millstone over to the Balmoral Mill? Would they let it out of the country? It would be a heavy piece of baggage, but perhaps it could come on ship."
"I doubt if that would be wise," Hamish replied. "It should stay in Scotland, for many of the family are still in Rogart. I should whisper in their ears, to erect it as a monument there. I plan to spend a lot of time in Rogart, and that would be a good plan."
"Tremendous plan!" exclaimed George. "Perhaps we could provide pictures of the Earltown mill, and the Balmoral Mill, for their interpretative plaques. We could include pictures of the Rossal mill and millstone on our display."
"I'll tell you what!" Sally piped up. "We could set this up as a link between New Scotland and Scotland. Folks are doing that a lot now, and this would be a special link just for Earltown and Balmoral, with Rogart!"
"I think that's a great idea!" Hamish exclaimed. "I'll bring that up when I am in Rogart. I'm sure they'll agree to it, but we will have to wait and see."
Sally glanced at the clock, and nodded to Angus and Nancy. They picked up some food baskets and went out the door. They were to serve the tables for the evening banquet, and needed to be at the mill early. Some of their young friends were also helping, and they liked to have a blether before the guests arrived.
George poured another round of drinks, and Hamish stretched out his knee again. Sally removed the towel wrapper, and his joint felt much better now. The haggai recliner chairs were made so a haggis's two short legs could touch the floor comfortably. But their longer, and often more troublesome, leg needed a footstool.
"It's time we left for the banquet," announced Sally. They quickly preened themselves, and Hamish picked up his briefcase. Great-Aunt Jane wrapped a shawl around herself, and reached for her cane. It was a short walk to the grist mill, and Hamish looked forward to the evening.
Chapter 4 - The Banquet
Scottish music was playing softly when Hamish and his friends entered the grist mill at Balmoral Mills. Colourful streamers led the way down to the banquet area on the lower floor. The pleasant aroma of maple wood burning in the kiln greeted them. It was a small fire, for cooking only.
Haggai were there from various parts of Colchester and Pictou Counties. Hon. George Haggis and his wife had come up from Halifax for the occasion. Typical of all haggai gatherings, it was a family affair. Baby haggai slept in their cradles, or snuggled up close to their mother's warm fur. The youngsters were busy in their special area, making toy boats from birch bark under the watchful eye of two haggai craftsfolk. Teenagers and adults stood in casual groups, sipping on heather wine while they chatted about the latest news.
The mill was closed for the season. There would be no wheat or oats dried above the kiln until spring. This left the mill free for the use of the haggai, who were always welcome to hold gatherings there. In return, the haggai kept marauding animals out of the mill. Mice and rats fled in fear, and the squirrels never dared enter when the haggai were about. The skunks and raccoons stayed away too, and found shelter under other buildings.
An angry haggis is a fearful beastie to deal with. And, now, three young haggai were about to find that out.
Jamie and Johnie were racing around the banquet floor, squealing with delight, and their cousin Sammy joined them. They ignored the stern warnings of their parents. Hamish frowned. Suddenly, Johnie bumped into Great Aunt Jane, knocking her cane to the floor. She staggered, but Hamish caught her in time to keep her from falling.
"You three! Jamie, Johnie, Sammy, you come outside with me!" Hamish ordered. They stopped in their tracks, and turned pale. They all adored Hamish, and tried to please him. Now, he was very angry.
"Come with me!" Hamish repeated, as he motioned to the door. He stopped them below the steps, and pointed to a tree up at the end of the lane. "You three! You scramble up the bank, run along the road to that tree, and scamper back down to me. You are going to do that seven times, and then we are going to talk about things. Now, be quick about it!"
They ran, as fast as their long leg and two short legs could carry them -- up the bank, along the road to the tree, down the lane, up the bank again, along the road, and so on until seven circles were completed. At a sign from Hamish, they stopped. They were out of breath, but Hamish ignored their huffing and puffing. He knew they had spent their energy, and could sit quietly for a long while now.
"Young gentlemen do not run around inside, especially in banquet halls," Hamish reminded them. "You could hurt someone. You could have hurt Great-Aunt Jane." Hamish reviewed the manners all young haggai should have. The three boys hung their heads in shame.
But, the worst was yet to come. "You will each apologize to Great-Aunt Jane," Hamish said. "Also, you will each share your dessert with her."
They meekly followed Hamish back inside. He nodded, and they went to Great-Aunt Jane. Jamie apologized first, then Johnie. Sammy bowed, before he apologized. Great-Aunt Jane smiled and thanked the boys.
The skirl of bagpipes resounded through the building. It was a signal for all to assemble at the tables.
Hamish was assigned to the head table, with George and Sally Haggis. George was the local haggis councillor. Hon. George Haggis and his wife sat beside George and Sally. Rev. Alexander and Nancy Haggis were at the end of the head table. Between Hamish and Rev. Alexander, sat Granny Elizabeth Haggis, aged 103 years. Granny, as she was affectionately called by young and old alike, was an esteemed matriarch among the haggai.
The youngsters had their own table, near the head table. They liked to see what was going on, and this was a great vantage point. No one had to remind them that they were in full view of the head table and all the adults, as students in the front rows in a classroom are in full view of the teacher. The haggai have gentle ways of guiding their young ones.
Councillor George Haggis stood to welcome everyone to the banquet. He thanked Hon. George Haggis and his wife for making time in their busy schedule to be with them. Turning to Granny Haggis, he paid her kindly tribute. Granny beamed with pride, and thanked him. He told the assembly that Hamish was soon to embark for Scotland, and would speak to the group after the meal. Then he asked Rev. Alexander Haggis to say grace, offering thanks for the food they were to enjoy that evening.
As soon as the formalities were over, the teenage waiters and waitresses set a steaming bowl of cream of celery soup before each haggis. The youngsters received smaller bowls of soup, for their tummies would not grow until they became teenagers. The soup had been made in large pots hanging over the maple fire in the kiln, using a recipe from the Young Womans Group Cookery Book from Dornoch (Sutherland, Scotland).
Four teenage haggai boys went about with bottles of heather wine, discreetly filling the wine glass by each plate. The waitresses poured root beer into the youngsters' glasses. The young uns loved root beer, and hardly cared that it was full of nutrition that helped them grow. Soft Scottish music by the Alexander brothers (audio tapes) was heard in the background, setting the mood for the evening.
While the soup bowls were cleared away, the teenagers brought out spiced hot grapefruit, in grapefruit half-shells elegantly placed on a small plate with a sprig of mint on the side. These had been broiled over a maple fire in a separate area of the kiln, again using a recipe from the Cookery Book.
Then came the main course, and what a feast it was too! Haggai are vegetarians, and excellent cooks. A cheese nest, baked in a mound of mashed potatoes, stood in the centre of each plate. It was surrounded by parsnip balls, fresh peas cooked in mint sauce, beets smothered in parsley butter and turnips in orange sauce. Green pepper coleslaw and carrot & apple salad offered cool alternatives to the hot vegetables. A side dish contained a generous serving of maple syrup baked beans, laced with heather rum.
When the haggai were almost finished eating, Councillor George Haggis announced a treat for the group that evening. Elspeth and Maggie Haggis, aged seven years, would perform a special dance for the company. Willie Haggis would play a tune on his bagpipes to accompany them.
Elspeth and Maggie rose, went to get a quick hug from their mothers, and stood in front of the head table. Each girl had a tartan ribbon bow in her hair. William began his tune, then nodded to the girls who then performed one of those dances that the haggai know well. They gave a small curtsey when they finished, and the gathering cheered. It was a sign for an encore.
Shyly, the girls looked at Willie. He smiled encouragement and began his tune again. Elspeth and Maggie danced a short number, gave another short curtsey, and quickly went back with their friends at the youngsters' table. It was almost time for dessert, and they knew they would get an extra large serving for dancing.
The teenage waiters refilled the wine glasses and the root beer glasses while the waitresses brought out generous servings of warm apple raisin pie, covered with scoops of vanilla ice cream. The recipe was one used in Earltown, and tonight the haggai cooks had slipped chopped walnuts into the pie filling. It was delicious!
There were large squares of "crown jewels" for the youngsters, one of their favourite desserts. Crown jewels are made from a traditional Pictou County recipe. Small cubes of yellow, green, red and orange jello in a fluffy white cream (a homemade version of "cool whip" found in humans' stores) were spread over a graham cracker crust, and cooled overnight in the fridge. Haggai never divulge this recipe, though humans make repeated attempts to copy it.
Angus Haggis brought a plate to Jamie, Johnie and Sammy at the youngsters' table. "Hamish says you are each to give one-quarter of your dessert to Great-Aunt Jane. I will cut away that portion for you and you will take it to her, the three of you together."
The boys wanted to object, but they didn't dare. They knew Hamish was watching. Angus gave the plate to Johnie, and escorted the three boys to Great-Aunt Jane. Again, the elderly lady smiled and thanked the boys. Jamie, Johnie and Sammy scooted back to their seats.
In truth, Great-Aunt Jane wanted to share her ice cream with them, but that was against the rules of discipline. She would have to wait for another time to do something special for Sammy, Johnie and Jamie. Great-Aunt Jane liked the boys.
Coffee and tea were brought out, and the wine glasses were refilled. Ginger ale was given to the youngsters, to help settle their tummies after the feast.
At a nod from Councillor George Haggis, Hon. George Haggis stood to bring greetings to the group from the Province of Nova Scotia. Nova Scotia, an eastern seaboard province of Canada, was founded by Sir William Alexander of Scotland, in the early 1600s. Nova Scotia is Latin for "New Scotland", and Scotland is often referred to as Auld Scotia.
Councillor George then introduced Hamish, who was to speak. It was a short intro, for Hamish was well known in Nova Scotia. He told of Hamish's upcoming journey to Scotland. Hamish rose, smiled at the haggai
before him and gave a special smile for the young uns sitting at their table.
"Did you know that Alexander Graham Bell was born in Edinburgh?" he asked the group. "His parents' home still stands near the City Centre in Edinburgh, not far from Princes Gardens. I will visit it again, when I am in Scotland."
"Alexander Bell is well known for inventing the telephone," Hamish continued. "But, Mr. Bell performed his first invention when he was only 14 years old, not much older than some young uns at this table."
Hamish went on to tell how young Alexander Bell and one of his friends, the son of a miller in the area, liked to hang around the mill after school. They were easily bored, and often got into mischief there. Finally, the miller had enough of them. "Come into my office!" he ordered his son and young Bell.
The miller lectured his son and young Bell on good behaviour while at the mill. "We cannot have you here, if you keep up your foolish pranks," he said sternly, eying them both with fierce eyes. "Why don't you do something useful for a change?"
Alexander Bell took up the challenge. "What would you like us to do, that would be useful?" he asked.
The miller was taken aback. He didn't know what to say, but he stalled for time by running some grains of wheat from a nearby barrel through his fingers. He had to think of something. Suddenly he had an idea. He thought they couldn't do it, but it was worth stumping them. "Why don't you find a way to take the hulls off these oats?" he demanded.
"I can find a way to do that!" bluffed young Bell, really not knowing if he could. He wanted, more than anything, to be dismissed from the lecture the miller was giving them. Alexander Bell and his friend were very subdued when they left the miller's office. Alexander had been given a bag of oats for his experiments. It was almost time for supper, so they bade each other good-bye and went home to their mothers.
Young Bell went to sleep that night, thinking about how to hull oats automatically. In the morning, just before dawn, he wondered about brushes and the movement of stones. It was in his mind all day at school.
As soon as he got home, Alexander Bell found some brushes and attached them to round stones. Nothing happened. He tried again with flatter stones, and again several times. Eventually, he was able to remove the hulls from the oats, with a circular brushing movement under the stones.
"I have it!" he told his friend the next morning in school. When classes were over for the day, the young friends again returned to the mill. Alexander Bell knocked on the miller's office door, and heard "Come in!"
The miller frowned when he saw the boys, but that did not deter young Bell. "I've found a way to hull oats," he announced, and proceeded to set up the brushes and stones so he could demonstrate on some of the miller's oats.
The miller was impressed, and ordered an experiment on a larger scale with Alexander Bell in attendance. Again, the procedure worked. The method was used in all the grist mills in Scotland, as long as grist mills were needed in communities.
John MacKay, the old miller, used the same method invented by Alexander Bell in the grist mill he built in Earltown in the 1820s, and his son Alexander used it in the Balmoral Grist Mill. "And Alexander Bell was only 14 years old at the time," Hamish ended his tale. "He was not much older than Johnie, Jamie and Sammy are today."
The audience was spellbound, even the young uns. One could hear a pin drop. The three boys slunk down in their seats, but they were encouraged. They put on a brave face for Hamish to see.
Councillor George Haggis thanked Hamish for his interesting speech, which entranced both youngsters and older folks. He reminded them that the dance floor on the middle level was ready, having been warmed by the heat rising from cooking in the kiln. Lively strains of Scottish Country dancing music could be heard upstairs.
The teenage waiters and waitresses quickly cleared the tables, eager to follow their elders up to the dancing that was now beginning. They put the dishes to soak, and would return the next afternoon to wash them and tidy the banquet hall and dance floor.
And so an evening of merry revelry began. The youngsters soon snuggled into a bed of hay and were sound asleep. Angus Haggis winked at Johannah, a pretty teenage haggis, and asked her to dance. Shyly, Johannah accepted. Hamish felt honoured when Granny Elizabeth accepted his offer for a dance. And so the haggai danced the night away, and found their way home just before dawn.
Chapter 5 - Travel to Pugwash with Willie Haggis
Hamish stepped aside, to let Willie Haggis slip safely underneath a caboose at the Train Station Inn. Then he followed, choosing a spot in the undercarriage for them to rest.
This caboose, like the other three at the Inn, had ended its days of following trains around the tracks. They were mementos of an earlier time, not really so long ago, when the Shortline Train ran daily along the northern Nova Scotia coast and stopped at the train station in Tatamagouche for convenience of passengers or shipments of freight.
Hamish took out the lunch Sally Haggis had packed for them. He had not planned to spend so long in Balmoral Mills after the banquet, but Sally and George insisted that he not travel further until his knee was free from pain. Sally had rubbed heather oil into it every night, before wrapping a warm towel around it. Her healing ministrations were magic, and now the knee felt as if new again.
Willie Haggis had come over in the evenings to chat with Hamish. Hamish had always been impressed with young Willie, who showed a keen mind for learning and an avid interest in history. There was a good future ahead for this teen-age haggis, if he could get the best of schooling.
Willie was glad his parents accepted Hamish's invitation to take him along to Pugwash, the home of the world renowned Thinkers Lodge. But, for now, his own legs were weary. It had been seven miles from Balmoral Mills, and he needed to rest. It would be another twelve miles to the lighthouse in Wallace, where Alastair and Maggie Haggis had invited them to stop for a visit.
Willie stretched his legs, and propped them on a nearby ledge. Hamish did the same, being careful his knee was properly positioned. They munched on lettuce and tomato andwiches, and drank heather ale. Willie was curious about the trains that chugged along the rails in earlier days.
"It all began in Scotland," said Hamish with a yawn. He was getting sleepy. But he told Willie about Sir John A. Macdonald, the first Prime Minister of Canada and one of the founding fathers of Canada. Sir John A. had advocated a railway across the nation, and ensured that it was built. Indeed, it was Sir John A. himself who drove the last spike connecting the rails built from the west coast to the rails built from the east coast of Canada.
Willie had learned this in school, and how the driving of that last spike signified the unity of Canada. With transportation for passengers and goods from coast to coast, the Canadian provinces could then work together more easily as one nation. He had other questions for Hamish. "Wasn't Sir John A. Macdonald born in Scotland?" he asked.
"Yes, he was," replied Hamish. "Sir John A.'s parents had a home on Brunswick Street in Glasgow. But his father was born in Dornoch, up in Sutherland in the northern regions. His grandfather was born in nearby Rogart, where there is a cairn to Sir John A. Macdonald today."
"Little John was only five years old when his parents emigrated to Canada," Hamish continued. "They wanted to make their home in Kingston, in Upper Canada (now the province of Ontario). They came out on the ship `Earl of Buckinghamshire'. It ran aground on a sand bar in the St. Lawrence River going up to Kingston. All night the waves buffeted the ship, and it was feared it would be beaten to pieces. Little John slept the whole night in his parents quarters in the hold of the ship, unaware that their lives were in danger. In the morning, with the rising of the tide, the ship floated free and they reached Kingston safely."
"On its next trip to Canada, the `Earl of Buckinghamshire' sank to the bottom of the ocean. It's 600 passengers perished. We came very close to not having Sir John A. Macdonald as first Prime Minister," said Hamish. "It would not be the same Canada without his wise leadership in the founding years."
Willie Haggis was also getting sleepy, so they settled down for a snooze. History was great, but better in small doses. They were safe under the caboose. No one knew they were there.
A grey and white cat, wandering beneath the caboose, woke Willie. It was a friendly kitty, and they chatted for a few minutes. Finally Hamish stirred, and stretched. The kitty rubbed noses with him, glad to greet another friend.
The sun was high in the sky, so Hamish and Willie began to make their way westward along the railway trail. The kitty went with them until they were just outside the village, then wished them well on their journey.
It was easy travelling along the trail, where the railway tracks had once been. There were no humans out that day but, as the trail crossed the highway at Bayhead, a big dog came racing towards them. He was a beige and brown collie dog, but he did not look friendly. He stood, growled and bared his teeth. Willie shook, terrified in his tracks. Hamish stood up tall, fixed the dog with his eye, and sent that horrible silver gleam that haggai can send so well. That ray of silver haggis light can blind a person or animal, if they look directly into it for long.
The collie yelped, then cried and buried its head in its paws. Hamish and Willie stood by, to see if the dog would be OK. Finally, it raised its head and shook it. When it saw Hamish standing there, it cowered and slunk away whimpering. "That's how it's done!" Hamish reassured Willie, who was still pale from shock.
Hamish chuckled when he told Willie that the silver gleam of the haggai gave rise to the phrase humans often use: "spear him with a look"!
They had another rest and snooze at Malagash Station. Before they resumed their westward trek, Hamish told Willie a story he had heard from the haggai in the Canadian Rockies. Some of the western haggai had hitched a ride in the back of a pickup truck one winter night. They were going through a mountain pass, when they noticed the driver keeping pace with a freight train on the tracks that ran parallel to the road. The locomotive had three bright headlights, which shone on the white ground and mountains, making all sparkle with a Christmas sheen. Suddenly, the train engineer began to blow his whistle.
The haggai wondered. There was no crossing ahead, and nothing was on the tracks. Then they gasped in wonder. The engineer was tooting out the tune, Jingle Bells, as they travelled together through the pass.
They were soon on their way again. Willie wanted to go in to the Malagash Salt Mines, but there was no time now. They had ceased operation several years ago, after the salt mine in Pugwash opened. Willie begged to see the salt mines in Pugwash. Hamish gave that very annoying reply, "We'll see." With a sigh, Willie realized he'd just have to wait his luck and hopped along beside his older friend.
It was after 4 in the afternoon when they reached the outskirts of Wallace. Travel was hazardous now, as many humans were out in the village. Hamish and Willie snuck into the rushes, and moved only when no one was in sight. Finally, after a couple daring dashes which brought Willie's heart to his throat, they reached the lighthouse safely.
Alastair and Maggie Haggis were waiting for them, and flung open their door to bring them inside. They quickly had Hamish and Willie settled in comfy chairs in their living area, with mugs of hot heather cider in their hands. "How was your trip?" asked Alastair.
"We made good time," replied Hamish and told Alastair about the dog. Alastair chuckled. And so they relaxed together, chatting, while Maggie and their daughter Elspeth prepared supper in the kitchen. It's good to be safe inside a haggis home again, thought Willie.
See also ‘Address to a Haggis’ in link Burns to be tourist magnet