The beast and i looked at each other eyeball to eyeball across the ancient stone wall, stares locked in mutual incomprehension. The wind tossed the Highland longhorn’s shaggy red mane about its face and faintly unfocused eyes, giving it the appearance of a hairy and possibly very drunk Viking.

Far out on the Sound of Sleat, the Mallaig ferry was carrying back from Skye those passengers who still demur at using the new-fangled road bridge to the mainland. Three centuries ago the fleeing Bonnie Prince Charlie was carried across the same water by the plucky Jacobite Flora MacDonald, inspiring a soupy folk song that still endures today.