How scarves could help to save a rare Scots sheep breed
Rebecca McLellan is trying to safeguard the future of a rare breed of sheep one scarf at a time.She fell in love with the Castlemilk Moorit and now has her own flock of 18 on the farm where she and her husband live in Rockcliffe on the Solway Firth.Rebecca was keen to look at ways to help ensure the long-term survival of the sheep, which are on the Rare Breeds Survival Trust (RBST) "at risk" list.That was when she hit on the idea of learning to weave to try to encourage other potential breeders to follow her lead.
She was born in Kenya and worked in London before moving to Scotland to a house which had been in her husband's family for about a century."With that came the responsibility and the stewardship for that land," she said."The reality was it had always been grazed by sheep, so we took a look at it and thought, well, there we go, that's the answer - we've got to get some sheep."After that they had to narrow it down to what type."Some native breeds in Scotland are becoming ever rarer, and I'm mad about my conservation," she said."We started to look for rare breed of sheep that were native specifically to this corner of Scotland and settled on the Castlemilk Moorit."
The brown-coated, curly-horned sheep were originally bred in the 1920s by Sir John Buchanan-Jardine for his Castlemilk estate in Dumfriesshire.They are on the "at risk" list, with an estimated breeding population of between 900 and 1,500.Rebecca said they were originally bred as a "park sheep"."They are an elegant-looking breed of sheep," she explained."They've got sweeping back horns, they've got neat legs and a sort of gazelle or deer-like head."So they grace the field - but they also have this practical side with the fleece."It is a soft fleece - I blend it to make it go further - but it's a soft mocha colour, it is cream at the tip down to chocolate at the base."She describes the sheep as "quite flighty" but also "quite curious"."If you do anything in the field or anywhere near them within a blink of an eye, they're all standing around in a circle, watching," she said.
Rebecca turns their fleeces into tapestries, knitwear and upholstery and hopes her work can help save the breed by showing the value they can offer."We've got breeds that have developed and evolved in Scotland particularly - but across the UK - which suit the geographical nature of our landscape," she said."So you're not trying to raise a breed of sheep that isn't suited to where you are from."There's a reality that these are breeds that need to be helped to survive and not sort of forgotten in the rush to have ever more economical sheep which are good for raising just for meat."
Rebecca is throwing open the doors to her workshop as part of the Spring Fling open studios event across Dumfries and Galloway between 24 and 26 May.Visitors will get a chance to see what she produces, how she does it and meet the rare breed itself.In the process, she hopes it might convince a few more people that the Castlemilk Moorit deserves to flourish in the years to come.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
BBC News
an hour ago
- BBC News
Memorial statue to lost North Sea divers unveiled in Aberdeen
A statue commemorating divers who have lost their lives in the North Sea energy industry has been unveiled in Aberdeen. A dedication service was held at the weekend to mark the installation of the memorial. It is estimated more than 100 divers have lost their lives since the inception of the oil and gas industry in the 1970s. The statue, by sculptor Alan Herriot, overlooks the harbour at Pocra Quay. It was commissioned in 2023 by the North Sea Divers Memorial charity. Depicting a man in a diving suit and helmet, it sits atop a granite plinth which reads: "Dedicated to all divers who lost their lives in the North Sea Offshore Energy Industry". Mr Herriot, one of Scotland's best-known figurative sculptors, has other work in made the statue of Scottish football legend Denis Law outside Provost Skene's House, and one portraying King Robert the Bruce outside Marischal College. The weekend's dedication service was attended by some of those who have worked in the industry, including people from across the UK and diver James McLean, a North Sea Divers Memorial trustee, said that none of the deaths over the years had been in vain, as they led to tighter safety said "We know the impact of those losses, and it's very personal for us. "It's been an emotional journey the last couple of years, and sitting looking at the diver we agreed we've almost lived with all those souls over the last two years."Mr McLean added: "It's doffing our cap, remembering friends and colleagues and others who died over the decades, not just in oil and gas but also in the renewable energy industry."
Scotsman
5 hours ago
- Scotsman
A smoother route to those split decisions
Four decades of case law adds up to clarity, says Kirsten Knight Kirsten Knight on why the Family Law Scotland Act holds up 40 years on Sign up to the daily Crime UK newsletter. All the latest crime news and trials from across the UK. Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... It has been 40 years since the Family Law (Scotland) Act 1985 came into force, reshaping the landscape of matrimonial law north of the Border. Designed to bring fairness and clarity to financial provision on divorce, the Act remains a cornerstone of Scottish family law – even as relationships, assets and expectations have evolved dramatically over four decades. The 1985 Act was, and still is, a progressive piece of legislation – providing a principled structure for dividing matrimonial property and supporting spouses financially after separation. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad At its heart, the Act established that property acquired during the marriage – known as matrimonial property – should be divided fairly, with a strong presumption of equal sharing. It introduced a framework, guiding courts to reach outcomes that reflect economic realities and contributions, rather than emotion or fault. The Act gives a helpful roadmap to family lawyers – and offers significant reassurance to clients, who often embark on a marital break-up with the expectation of chaos or confrontation, or both. It is the cornerstones of the Act – its fairness and predictability – that provide that reassuring roadmap to those caught up in situations they never anticipated. As with any Act, there remain some areas of uncertainty; it is by no means a 'one size fits all' solution, and we've seen the courts grappling with how to interpret various aspects of the legislation over the years. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The judicial system in Scotland still relies on the discretion of decision-makers with regards to how they apply the law to the individual situation they are dealing with. However, we have 40 years of case law now, which gives solicitors a very good steer on how to advise clients who present with more complex issues. Family law in this area has seen further reform throughout the years – notably in 2006, when new legislation extended some protections to cohabiting couples. This was a response to the changing shape of families in Scotland, with more people choosing to live together without getting married. However, although it did offer more protection to cohabiting couples, many argue that these protections still fall short of those afforded to married spouses. Cohabiting clients are often surprised, and disappointed, by the limited remedies available to them. It's clear that further reform is needed (and indeed, it is planned), to try and give greater clarity to cohabiting couples that separate. The 1985 Act also faces fresh challenges in an ever-changing world that is moving inexorably online. The rise of digital assets, international property ownership and complex financial portfolios will continue to test the flexibility of its principles. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The cases we're dealing with now are often far more intricate than they were in 1985. For example, we're seeing the continuing rise in pre-nuptial agreements and family trusts, and the emergence of cryptocurrency assets – all of which require careful legal navigation. However, despite these challenges, the Family Law (Scotland) Act is holding up well after 40 years. Its longevity is a testament to its clarity and fairness. The Act reflects Scottish values – equality, pragmatism and a strong belief in the rule of law. It might need to evolve, but it doesn't need to be replaced.
Times
11 hours ago
- Times
Surrogacy rules are outdated and heartless
Before the Scottish philosopher Adam Smith wrote The Wealth of Nations, he authored another book that's far less well known. In The Theory of Moral Sentiments, Smith argues that we humans have a natural gift for putting ourselves in other people's shoes and that this hardwired empathy helps shape our ethics. That idea feels right to me so, if I may, I'd like to tap into your sympathy by asking you to picture yourself in the following situation. Imagine you're a man whose wife was diagnosed with ovarian cancer a few years ago. Doctors were able to save her life by removing her womb and blasting her with radiation, but that treatment means she'll never carry a child. Before the gruelling medical interventions began, your wife's eggs were frozen — so now the disease is in remission, you have the chance to have the family you've dreamt of, but you'll have to go down the surrogacy route where someone else compassionately carries your baby for you. • Ms Rachel, the 'human Teletubby' driving British parents mad It takes a long time but you eventually find a surrogate via Facebook — a 33-year-old mum of four. An IVF clinic mixes your sperm with your partner's egg and implants the embryo into the surrogate's womb. After an agonising wait, you get a positive result on the pregnancy test. You're with your surrogate when you discover you're going to be a father for the first time, and you're at her side during the ultrasound scans as you see your baby growing. Finally the delivery date arrives and, when your daughter is born, you cradle her in your arms, convinced you'll never love anything, or anyone, this much again. But within hours of the birth — out of the blue — the surrogate tells you she has changed her mind and wants to keep your infant. Soon after, she leaves the hospital with your child and, eight agonising months later, your case is finally heard by a judge who rules that the surrogate is allowed to keep your baby. For ever. Can you imagine the devastation you'd feel if this happened to you? Shockingly, this nightmarish scenario — a surrogate being allowed to keep a child that is 100 per cent genetically yours — can happen in the UK because of a statutory framework rushed in by Margaret Thatcher's government in 1985. That year, a mother named Kim Cotton had carried an embryo for a couple who couldn't have a baby themselves. Surrogacy was a novel concept at the time, so this was big news. Cotton explained to the press that she was happy to be able to help people in need — it was an act of compassion. • NHS to offer whole genome sequencing to every newborn baby Reactionaries in Thatcher's Britain saw things differently and legislation was hastily passed that made surrogacy between consenting adults extraordinarily difficult. According to these antiquated rules, in Britain the surrogate is always the legal parent and the biological parents have to go through a long and uncertain judicial process to effectively 'adopt' their own offspring. If the newborn ends up in intensive care after birth or needs clinical treatment of any kind, the genetic parents have no formal say about what should happen. Our country's leading surrogacy lawyer Natalie Gamble aptly describes this as 'the final indignity'. As she puts it: 'After struggling so hard to have a much-loved child, the parents are then legal strangers to their baby at birth.' • Ministers put surrogacy reforms on back burner The negative consequences don't stop there. Under our outmoded regulations the views of surrogates are disregarded; they're not allowed to decide that the intended parents should be the lawful guardians; only the courts can make that call. This also creates complications for the surrogate's spouse, who is forced to assume legal parenthood and financial responsibility for a child that isn't theirs. Sadly, youngsters suffer as well. In Gamble's words, babies born via a gestational carrier are 'born into a legal black hole because UK law treats them as the children of the wrong person'. Small wonder that the majority of Brits who have to go down this route end up going overseas, in particular to progressive American states such as California. There, modern regulations mean surrogates have to pass rigorous medical, psychological and financial screening tests. And critically, in these US states, the courts decide at the start of the surrogacy journey who will be named as the parents, which minimises the risk of confusion or complications later down the line. This certainty is good for everyone and ensures that genetic parents can be treated as the rightful guardians from day one. This means they don't have to go through a stressful adoption-type application after the birth or worry that they won't be able to make hospital decisions on behalf of their son or daughter. We need a similarly commonsense approach here and, luckily, in recent years we've seen thoughtful and practical reform proposals put forward by the Law Commission of England and Wales, as well as the all-party parliamentary group on surrogacy. It would be a credit to Keir Starmer's government to follow these recommendations and overhaul our regressive laws, after successive Tory administrations timidly failed to do so. Of course, surrogacy only affects a tiny number (about 600 British babies are born via surrogacy a year), so a cynical political strategist might call this a 'third-term priority', which is Westminster-speak for 'no bloody way'. But basic fairness demands action is taken. As Adam Smith would say, we should trust that human sympathy means that the British public will be supportive, even if they're lucky enough never to have fertility issues themselves. Here's hoping our prime minister feels the same way.
