17th November 2018
Established 1872. Online since 1996.

Tochts fae Tushie Truncherfaece

Scriechin scories

Whaar we bide used tae be a fine plaece. A peerie howe under a quiet peerie knowe on da hill. Weel, no ony mair, we hae new neebours. As weel as bein noisy dey threaten wis wi violence regularly. Dey’ve even teckled wis! Wha wid dae sicca thing tae trows? Scories, dat’s wha.

Noo, I ken dat Shetland fokk differ on whit dey caa a scorie or a maa. Tae some fokk aa herrin gulls ir scories, tae idders da young fleckit eens ir scories, an da adult eens ir maas. But ee thing we aa agree on is dey ir a richt pest, whitiver you caa dem.

Wir Gutteryaggle is terrible fairt o dem. Ee nicht she wis on da hill enjoyin a grain o faerdie maet. Afore she kent hit a scorie yockit her jammie piece oot o her peerie claas.

“Du tiefin oolet!” she shouted afore runnin intae da howe greetin.

Gutteryaggle took a while tae git ower her gluff. She wis fairt tae geng oot hersel. I dunna blame her. Ivery time we geng outside eenoo dey ir swoopin doon ower wir heids screichin.

You widna tink wir been here lang afore dem. Trows ir natural hill dwellers. Scories ir meant tae nest on cliffs. Dey ir dat greedy for maet dey hiv moved tae idder plaeces.
You wid tink dey wid aet fish an idder craeters fae da sea. But dey’ll aet onything ava.
Scraps o maet, idder birds eiggs, wirms an creepy craalies. Da hooses at da fit o wir hill draa dem here. Tuesday is da scories favourite day o da week: essikert day. Dey rive open da black bags an aggle da streets wi aa kinds o bruck.

“Da, du’ll niver guess whit A’m joost seen?” peched Uggledlugs as he ran in da door.
“Whit?” I axed.

“A scorie gaein wi a hen’s eigg in it’s beak!”

I shook my heid. Da poor hens hae tae fecht wi da scories tae git da peerie grain o scraps baaled tae dem an noo dey ir teifin dir eiggs. Unbelievable.

“Why ir da scories sae hungry eenoo?” axed Uggledlugs.

“Dey hae tae feed dir young weel afore dey laeve da nest,” I telt him. I wis aboot tae tell him aa whit I kent aboot da life cycle o a scorie. Den Gutteryaggle wis da nixt tae burst in da door pechin.

“Come ootside an meet my new freend,” she announced proodly. “Da cutest peerie chick A’m iver seen.”

“A chick? Whit kind o chick?” I axed.

“Een dat’s fleckit grey an fluffy laek a dandelion heid. I joost want tae tak her in my skurt an cuddle her!” said Gutteryaggle aa excited. “Come an see,” she said, beckonin me oot ontae da hill.

Gutteryaggle skippit ower tae her new freend. As she did so da peerie grey chick waddled ower tae her flappin it’s peerie wings. Gutteryaggle flung her airms around da chick an da pair o dem laached an chirpit tagidder laek life lang freends.

Uggledlugs faalded his airms. “Gutteryaggle,” he said in disgust. “Does du no ken whit kind o chick yon is?”

“A richt cute een,” she said.

“Yon’s a baby scorie, du föl!”

Gutteryaggle jamp back. “Dat’s impossible,” she said. “Scories ir coorse craeters an my freend isna.”

“You pair bein friends will mak dis een o da coorsest scories aboot. If du tames her she’ll teckle onybody. Da tame eens ir da warst,” I telt da pör lass.

Gutteryaggle widna hae it tae be, but thankfully da matter wis taen oot o my ain claas. In nae time ava, scories wir dartin aboot abune wir heids an scriechin tae protect dir young. Gutteryaggle fled intae da howe an me an Uggledlugs wisna far ahint.

“Does du tink du’ll keep clear o yon peerie scorie noo?” I axed her.

“I doot dat, but will da muckle scories look eftir her?” said Gutteryaggle wi concern.
“Dat dey will, my jewel,” I said. “Yon’s a big enoch chick tae survive oot o da nest an da idder scories will aa help feed an protect her until she can fend for hersel. She’ll be rivin open black bags in nae time.”

“As lang as she doesna tief my jammie piece,” smeeged Gutteryaggle.

Hope da scories dunna budder you dis summer.

Tushie Truncherfaece x