Bute Writers' Group

Quill 2 Anthology

• This anthology has been put together by members of the group - past and present - in the hope that the mix of stories, articles and poetry with a blend of fact, fiction, nostalgia and humour will appeal to readers. Extracts from the anthology appear below and will be changed approximately every two months.

• Creative writing is a very enjoyable pastime - and can be profitable. Most of us, at some time or other, fancy that we can write. We can! Things that happen every day - events, conversations etc can be turned into articles or stories and magazines (particularly) are always looking for fresh material. Even if what is written does not sell, a great deal of pleasure can be derived from the writing and discussing it with friends or colleagues.

• The Quill 2 anthology can be purchased direct from the Bute Writers' Group. Please send your name and postal address with a cheque or postal order for £3.50 (including P&P) payable to: 'Bute Writers Group' to:

or place your order by telephone & credit/debit card:  01700-505357

(+44-1700-505357 outside the UK)

Extracts from Quill 2

"A Tawny Tale" by Margaret Currie

"Nature Walks on the Isle of Bute" by Barbro Pattie

Ollie Owl sat in the oak tree preening his lovely tawny and brown feathers, his great round eyes glimmering all gold and reflecting the pale moonlight. As the stars shone down he hooted and gazed around.

"I’ve been a very bad girl," said Meg tearfully. "I teased my little brother today and broke my favourite mug with the bunnies on it. I felt very cross, so I ran out of the house and into the woods.

My husband and I took our friends for a walk at the north-end of Bute. It was an early May morning; we followed the brook through the forest as the new, fresh, green leaves on the tree branches stretched themselves towards the sun; the light found its way between the branches onto the path. The birds had not yet finished their dawn chorus, from north to south and east to west the cuckoos’ many ‘cuckoos’ greeted the morning.

We came to the top of a hill and in a glade the abandoned ground of an old farm remained. We rested in the grass for a little while with bumblebees and little things. Also, we wondered and discussed what it must have been like to live up here far from everything but with this magnificent view over the Kyles of Bute. We had a silent time resting and listening on this spring morning.

Refreshed we followed the brook on its way back down the hill. What a joy to be alive together with friends and with nature.

One windy February day we walked on the hills near St Blanes. The wind held us steadily in its grip as we energetically climbed up the hill to reach the top and from there we saw more hills and the plains in between them, stretching out below us. Cattle stood in the mud gloomily eating from the silage.

We aimed for the cliffs by the sea and when we reached them, with some more effort, looked below at the waves roaring fiercely and a tanker trying to keep its course in the heavy sea. Silently we gave our respect to the power of the sea.

The sun tried to break through the clouds to spread its light and warmth over land and sea. We opened our hearts to the elements of nature: its beauty and its power.

In rain and sunshine we climbed down the hill from Ardscalpsie to Scalpsie Bay hoping to see the seals. Some of them were congregated on and around the rocks a little bit out in the water; the biggest seal had placed himself on a rock right in the middle, it looked like he was the king with all the other seals his subjects. We watched one another for a while with mutual interest.

Slowly we moved away and picked a few lovely stones from the shore as we asked its permission.

We joined another walker who told us a bit about Bute and the big rock in front of us which, he said, is on the line between the Highlands and the Lowlands. The rain was now pouring down and we sheltered for a while in a cave. We wondered how long it took for the different layers of stone to form the cave and if- in its solid form - it was alive. Will we be alive many hundreds of years from now ... and in what form?

When the rain stopped we ventured out to climb the rock. It was quite steep and I felt I was not so young any more; but having reached the top the same wonderful feeling of having conquered the world, as I experienced in my youth, came over me.

Afterwards I felt young and strong; the rain and the wind just reminded me how good it is to be alive.

Barbro Pattie

"A Tawny Tale" by Margaret Currie

"Nature Walks on the Isle of Bute" by Barbro Pattie

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