Dùthchas: Trees, members of the family

Decades ago, the Forestry commission took out many of the Ash trees in a small woods by our home because of the 'Emerald Ash Borer'. My mother cried for days. For her, the trees were a part of the family. She would walk by them every day, stroke them, stand under them during a rain. The trees themselves would raise baby birds and squirrels in their branches, wrapping their arms around new life so that it might grow. They were always there, standing as a part of Mam's home. Yet someone had taken their life.

Many people don't realise that the Gàidhlig alphabet, its 18 Ogham letters, evolved from the Indigenous trees of our land, the Ash (Nuin) being one. When the Otley oak tree (Dair) was slated for demolition, or when the Sycamore Gap tree along Hadian's wall in Northern England was viciously cut down, there was an outcry. Why? These were living members of people's lives; a part of their home, markers along their routes in the world. To some, sentient beings. For Hebrideans, the clearances removed many of our original trees from the land, a further act of violence in an already scarred past.

If you do not spend much time in nature, you may not realise this relation, but you may recognise it in other ways. For those that have bird feeders, for example, the same birds tend to visit you daily. You look forward to their arrival. They become members of your world. And when a cat kills one, or you find a dead bird, you mourn its loss. Sheep on the croft are members of the family to crofters. They see them into the world from their birth; feed them, vaccinate them, dip them for ticks, and assist them in life. They talk to them daily, and the lambs and sheep run to their crofter caretakers when they see them. That is why there are such strict laws about 'sheep worrying'. A couple in Easter Ross were just convicted of this. To let a dog off its lead, is an act of murder to a long-time family member of the crofter.

Like trees who stay with us most of our lives, we expect grandparents to grow old and see out their days. We have time to say goodbye. When a younger person, like my mother's Ash trees or the Sycamore Gap tree, suddenly dies of cancer or a heart attack, we are left stunned. They were cut down before their time. This November 11th, we remember those family members who, like the Nuin, were cut down during war and conflict. Lives suddenly taken from us without the time to say farewell, to thank them for their part in our days. Trees: the members of our Gàidhlig land families and lessons from the land.