Forward With Integrity

Clan MacTavish International!

Grave Slab of Thamhais

circa 1100

located in Kilmartin Kirk

In the Presence of Monarchs

AT DAWN I FOLLOWED THE CRINAN CANAL'S TOWPATH FROM ARDISAIG TO THE SOUND OF JURA. IT WAS A TIME OF FEW PEOPLE. GREYS FADED TO PASTELS AS NATURE STIRRED. TEMPERATURES ROSE; THE DEW STEAMED TO A GENTLE MIST GIVING EVERYTHING A BRUSH-WASHED QUALITY. THE HEDGEROW HUMMED AS CHOIRS OF INSECTS HUNGRILY SEARCHED THE DENSITY OF BRAMBLES TO BREAKFAST ON SUGAR VARNISHED BERRIES.
TO MY RIGHT THE WATERS WIDTH; A STEAMING BATH OF MIRRORED GLASS SOMETIMES BROKEN BY THE KISSES OF RISING FISH TO SHIMMER, VIBRATE AND STRETCH TO LICK THE BANKS BEFORE ABATING TO CALM AGAIN.
A THRUSH STOOD SQUARELY ON THE PRISTINE LOCK GATE AND INHALED TO RELEASE SHRILL SONG, A DIMINUTIVE COCKERAL, TO CELEBRATE THE MORNING; HIS AUDIENCE THE ANCIENT LANDSCAPE. HE STOPPED SUDDENLY, DISTRACTED BY TWO CABBAGE WHITE BUTTERFLIES DANCING IN SILENT COURTSHIP THROUGH A RAINBOW OF WILD FLOWERS. THE INDIVIDUAL FRAGRANCES COULD NOT BE IDENTIFIED; ALL COMBINED TO ONE SWEETNESS, A UNISON OF NATURE.
THE ONLY SUGGESTIONS OF MAN WERE THE PATH OF SHATTERED SANDSTONE AND DORMANT BOATS, THE INHABITANTS OBLIVIOUS TO THE DAY'S BEAUTY, EXCITEMENT AND HOPES; BLINKERED BEHIND FLORAL CURTAINS.
AHEAD, VEILED IN THE MIST, CAME AN INVASION OF NOISE. AN UNRECOGNIZABLE DISTURBANCE. AS I NEARED, IT BUILT IN INTENSITY AND VOLUME. THRASHING. CHURNING WATER. A DROWNING CROWD? NEW SOUNDS OF BELLOWS AND GRUNTS. I KNELT TO PEER THROUGH ELDERBERRY FINGER SAS THE HAZE THINNED.
STAGS WERE SWIMMING THE CANAL TO REACH THE GLASSERIES. IT WAS THE RUTTING SEASON AND INSTINCT WAS TAKING THEM TO ESTABLISHED THEATRES OF COMBAT. THE ANIMAL'S HEADS SUGGESTED A SUBMERGED SEPIA CAROUSEL WITH ANTLERS LIKE BRANCHES OF A SUNKEN TREE. I COUNTED 18 AS THE LAST SCRAMBLED UP THE BANK TO KICK HIS REAR LEGS- A FROLICKING LAMB- BEFORE JOINING HIS RIVALS.
THE DISTANCE SWALLOWED THEM YET I REMAINED FOR SOME MOMENTS. MY CHEST POUNDED, MY MIND RACING TO COLLATE THE PHENOMENON. I CONTINUED MY JOURNEY WITH WARMTH OF FEELING AND KINSHIP WITH ALL AROUND ME. I WAS PRIVILEGED AND HUMBLED TO HAVE WITNESSED SUCH A SPECTACLE. I RECALLED THE WORDS OF MY FRIEND ALEX, HIS SPEECH SLURRED BY WHISKY; "GOD MADE EDEN...AND THEY CALLED IT ARGYLL."