Shetland Moon Lore
If you’ve read Claire Askew’s brilliant poem ‘Bad Moon’, you’ll know that ‘the moon must be sick of being in poems’. How the moon feels about blog posts remains to be seen. In any case, a few weeks ago I was asked to collate some of Shetland’s old folklore relating to the sky and celestial bodies, which is in all honesty a task I have spent much of my life preparing for. Now, given NASA’s recent announcement, and with a blue moon falling on Halloween this year, it seems more than timely to share some moon-specific lore on my brand new (and long-overdue) website. After all, in the wise words of Kevin MacNeil, ‘the moon is always super.’ And, despite how the moon may take it, I also have to confess that I harbour a secret hope; that by gathering these bölliments of lore in one place for folk to read and enjoy, it might even lead to more moon poems being written — especially poems about shit bacon.
The Moon in Weather Lore
Much of the weather lore in Shetland comes from the beliefs and superstitions of the old haafmen, whose lives often literally depended on favourable weather conditions and the foreknowledge of coming storms. Whilst very few of these beliefs could be said to be reliable in the scientific sense, to judge them on such a basis seem to be rather missing the point. The lore of the haafmen gives fascinating insight into how they observed the world as a natural language of signs and omens; a way of looking that has a certain kinship with poetry or metaphor, and which seems to foster a sharp attention and respect towards the non-human realm. As well this, such superstitions formed a kind of bargaining system with the idea of fate and luck, in which the moon very much played its part.
When I first started researching for this subject, I asked an old Burra fisherman I know if he had heard of any old moon lore from previous generations. The one that sprung to mind for him was that the haafmen never liked to see the new moon ‘lying on her back’, as this was taken to be a sign of approaching storms. The moon ‘lying on her back’ as a bad omen apparently came from the moon’s appearance being likened to a cup holding water. If the moon sat at the wrong angle, the cup would surely spill its contents over the course of the month; if it was stood upright, however, then the cup would remain full and good weather could be relied upon.
According to the folklorist James R. Nicholson, ‘it was not good to see the new moon too early’ — the preferable age for a new moon to appear in the sky was around three or four days old, as good weather could then be expected. It was also widely believed that the moon held its most profound influence over weather patterns during its new and full phases, for both better and worse. Aald folk apparently didn’t like to see ‘the old moon in the bosom of the new’ (phrased as ‘the new moon in the old moon’s arms’ elsewhere), as it was believed this was a sure sign of bad weather to come. The image itself refers to the phenomenon of ‘earthshine’; light reflected from the Earth onto the unlit side of the moon. A few more weather proverbs relating to the moon go as such:
Wednesday’s weather is true, whether the moon is old or new.
(Wednesday’s weather was thought to remain consistent throughout the entire day, even when under the powerful influence of the new or full moon phases.)Aald moon mist
ne’er died o thirst
(Mist during the latter days of the waning moon signalled rainy weather to come.)De mön is glaipit de cloods (“the moon has swallowed the clouds”)
and
De mön’ll scaff him (“the moon will eat it up”)
(It was believed that clouds cleared on the rising of the full moon.)The moon with a circle brings water in her beak.
(A ring around the moon foretold of stormy weather ahead.)
Further to that last one; the word ‘mön-broch’ (a ‘broch’ being a circular Iron Age fortress, found in various states of ruin across the isles) refers to the luminous halo of light which appears around the moon from time to time, and was said to be a portent of windy weather. Apparently, this is one piece of lore that might actually have some scientific truth to it, as the atmospheric conditions which cause this halo (reflected light, ice-crystals, and cirrus clouds seem to be involved) can often indicate an approaching low front. (Definitely don’t quote me on that, though, because I seriously don’t understand what I just wrote there, and I don’t want to attract the ire of any scientists.)
Finally; in Papa Stour, an island on the west side of Shetland, it was said that the age of the moon on Winter Day (the 14th of October, traditionally thought of as the start of winter in Shetland) could indicate the number of gales to be expected during the cold months ahead; the older the moon, the higher the number of gales. This year, the 14th of October fell just two days before the new moon, which (if I’m counting this right) means we have twenty-seven gales ahead of us this winter. How profoundly in-character for 2020.
The Moon and Calendar Customs
The moon also had significant influence throughout the crofter’s calendar year, where particular attention was paid to its phases and its relationship with the tide. Harrowing, reaping and the cutting of peats were most often carried out beneath a waning moon, whilst crops were planted with a flowing tide and a growing moon, then harvested with the tide on the ebb and the moon on the wane. The reason given for this was that the earth’s crust was said to ‘close and open better’ during such times, due in part to ‘the moon’s influence’ on the soil. This was also the reason why the rivin o flaas was carried out during a flood tide, and similarly why it was considered a waste of effort to try and pull up weeds like dock or thistle when the tide was ebbing.
Moon phases were also important considerations when it came to rearing certain animals. Eggs laid with a waning moon were used for setting, and this needed to be done at the first appearance of the new moon, since chicks hatched during a waxing moon were thought difficult to rear. Animals were usually gelded during the waning moon, whilst in some areas it was thought that ‘the cow only sought the bull in the first and third quarters of the moon’, and that the sex of the calf was dependant on which phase of the moon the conception took place under. Another seemingly common belief had it that a pig should never be killed during the waning moon, as it would ‘run away the fat’ of the beast and thus make for poor bacon.
The phase of the moon was also carefully observed when it came to celebrations and certain activities. Weddings generally took place during the three winter moons, and a Thursday when the moon was growing was an especially popular day for such an occasion. Likewise, flittin was only to be carried out under the waxing phase of the moon, and never on a Friday. A good rule of thumb, apparently, is that any significant action or event should be undertaken with a growing moon rather than a waning one. This wisdom does not apply to births, however, as it was considered fairly unlucky to be born under the waxing moon (to anyone who just googled the moon phase they were born under and discovered their waxing moon baby status; soz, pal).
I’ll finish this section off with a couple of old proverbs, which seem to speak to the more sinister shades of the moon:
Five mön changes i de mont
Stand by fir nae guid
(A ‘blue moon’ calendar month, in which the moon travels through all its five phases — new, crescent, first-quarter, gibbous, and full — was said to bring misfortune. And guess what happened this very month, friends? And during spooky season, no less!)
Settirday’s mön an sunday’s prime
Dey never cam in a good time
(a new moon on a Saturday and a full moon on a Sunday were seen as bad omens.)
Moon Medicine
As we are currently living in Plague Times, I’m actually planning a dedicated post to some of the old folk remedies and health rituals of times past. But I couldn’t resist sharing two here. So, spoilers ahead for that future post. I’ll come back and link it here when it’s written.
The first is a spell known as ‘de castin o de heart’, which is an absolutely wild ritual for curing seemingly heart-related health complaints, and usually carried out by a witchy wife, or someone of such trowie-ilk. John Spence writes about the details of the ritual in full here — prepare yourselves, it’s quite something (not least for the real risk of lead poisoning it seems to pose):
If someone complained of having ‘lost dere stamach’, they were said to be afflicted by ‘heart-wear’, a disease which assumed two forms: the aaber and the feckless. In the former, the heart was understood to be too big, and there was an appetite present that didn’t do the body any good. In the latter — or feckless — form, the heart was supposed to be wasting away under some trowie influence, and there was no desire for food. The ‘castin o de heart’ was performed as follows: a small quantity of lead was melted in a kollie, and the patient was set in the maet kettle before the fire. On the head was placed a blind sieve, in the centre of which a bowl of water was set. A pair of steel scissors or two keys were held in the form a cross, and through them molten lead was poured into the water. The shapes were carefully examined until a piece was found in form like the human heart. This was sewn into the left breast of an item of clothing and worn by the patient for three moons. The water of this ceremony was made into a porridge, which the patient ate while seated at the ‘guit o de door’ at the hour of sunset. In the casting, attention was paid to the moon: for the aaber heart-wear, the time chosen was the waning moon and the ebbing tide. For the feckless form, the opposite was deemed most fitting.
— John Spence, ‘Shetland Folk-Lore’
Another moon-influenced remedy was the peculiar charm known as the ‘wrestin thread’, which was used in the treatment of sprained joints. It consisted of a length of black wool tied with mystical aaberknots, with one aaberknot for every day in the moon’s age (though it bears noting that another version of this ritual has it that the thread consists of nine aaberknots specifically; a potently magical number in bygone Shetland). The thread would then be wrapped around the afflicted joint and the following spell would be spoken aloud:
The Lord rade,
and the foal slade,
he lighted,
and he righted,
set joint to joint,
bane to bane,
and sinew to sinew.
Heal in the Holy Ghost's name.
A similar variant of this charm survives in Orkney, and both versions appear to have roots in a pre-Christian charm also found in pagan Germany. According to orkneyjar.com, the charm is part of the Merseburg Incantations, and was used by the Norse god Odin to heal the god Baldr's horse:
Phol and Wodan rode into the woods,
There Balder's foal sprained its foot.
It was charmed by Sinthgunt, her sister Sunna;
It was charmed by Frija, her sister Volla;
It was charmed by Wodan, as he well knew how:
Bone-sprain, like blood-sprain,
Like limb-sprain:
Bone to bone; blood to blood;
Limb to limb -- like they were glued.
Whilst this explains why Jesus was riding on a foal in the Shetland and Orkney variants, questions remain about why Baldr chose a foal over a more appropriately-sized steed. For a Norse God of his stature an aa…
The Moon in Rituals and Folktales
When du first sees de new mön, turn a bit o siller money trowe dy haand.
(Passing a silver coin from one palm to another was said to bring luck)
During the first new moon in winter, running around an aertfast stone three times sungaets and three times widdergaets would result in three wishes being granted. Another version of this ritual suggests that a sweetheart could be found ‘false or true’ through the same means, with the querent being lent the moon’s power to discern:
New mön, new mön, tell me true
Whedder my love be fause ir true
If he be true da first time I do him see
His face be tae me and his back tae da sea
If he be fause da first time I do him see
His back tae me and his face tae da sea.
The full moon, on the other hand, featured in an intricate rite that was said to grant witches their magical powers. These powers were said to be delivered by the trows or, following the influence of the kirk on such traditions, the Devil. At midnight during a full moon, ‘the aspirant after the unhallowed power’ must go alone to the shoormal, turn three times against the sun, then lie down naked upon the sand (as Ernest Marwick writes, the liminal space of the shoormal was integral to this ritual, due to the fact that ‘the land between the high-water mark and the line of low water is the Devil’s undisputed property’). The aspiring witch would then place one hand on top of their head and the other below their feet, then chant the following verse nine times: ‘Muckle Maister Deil, tak aa dat’s atween dis twa haands.’
The silver light of the full moon saturates a fair few folktales, and whose presence is the surest indicator of there being supernatural forces at play. The apparition of the ‘ganfer’ is a particularly frightening phenomenon; a death omen, taking form as the apparition of a ‘living’ person, who appears to someone as a relative, friend, or even — harrowingly — a doppelganger of themselves. Nicholson provides two such recollections of ganfers, which also happen to demonstrate the differing forms such encounters can take. Note how in both of these cases it is the light of the moon that illuminates the ghost for what it is, and the grim message it brings to the beholder:
A story is told of a woman whose sailor husband was away on a long voyage, and who awoke in the middle of the night to find him standing beside her bed in the moonlight, with water dripping from his clothes. She started up with a scream, and the vision disappeared. A neighbour whom she recounted the story to made note of the hour and date. By and by, a ‘dead letter’ arrived announcing the death of the man by drowning on the very night the vision was seen.
An old man went outside to smoke his pipe during a moonlit night, and was surprised to see a funeral company composed of the men of the neighbourhood slowly passing by. The moonbeams fell on the coffin lid, and the name that appeared was his own. Within a week, he was being carried to the grave by the very men who passed before his vision that night.
— James R. Nicholson, ‘Shetland Folklore’
Goodnight, Moon
As tales are traditionally ended up here: ‘So, dat wis dat.’ I’ll lay you up with one final, piece of the moon to enjoy; a sweet peerie guddick.
Peep, peep, though de watter be ever sae deep
I’ll git ower wi my flock o sheep
Answer: the moon and her stars
Happy Hallowmas, pals. Dunna let de trows in danite.
Sources and further reading
Shetland Folk-Lore by John Spence (Johnson & Greig, 1899)
Shetland Folklore by James R. Nicholson (Robert Hale Limited, 1981)
The Folklore of Orkney and Shetland by Ernest W. Marwick (B.T Batsford Ltd, 1975)
Home of a Naturalist by Biot Edmondston and Jessie M.E Saxby (J Nisbet & Co, 1888)
The Shetland Sketch Book by W. Fordyce Clark (Oliver and Boyd, 1930)
Told Round the Peat Fire by Andrew T. Cluness (Shetland Publishing Company, 1994)
Country Folklore Vol. III Orkney & Shetland Islands collected by G.F Black, ed. Northcote W. Thomas (David Nutt, 1903)
A Useful Peerie Book of Shetland Sayings by Bertie Deyell (Deyell Family, 2000)
http://www.orkneyjar.com
http://www.tobarandualchais.co.uk/en/
https://www.shetlanddialect.org.uk/john-j-grahams-shetland-dictionary-intro