The Isle of Bute and the wider sheep breeding and sheepdog world lost one of its characters, recently, with the death of Sandy McKirdy – he would have been 98 later this year.

Born at Ardmaleish Cottage, in 1924, he was the third eldest son in the family of eight of Peter and Margaret McKirdy, his brothers Gilbert, Peter, Bobby and Andrew, sisters Margaret, Scissie and Annie having pre-deceased him. His father collected milk from neighbouring farms which he retailed and some five years later took up tenancy of Dunagoil, successfully farming there until his death in 1960, succeeded by his son Peter.

Sandy spent his formative years at Dunagoil involved in the daily routine often called to help at Garrochty and he often reminisced on the lifestyle of the notable McEwan family. His interest and aptitude in working with sheep more often at The Plan, in Bute, would fire what would become a lifetime commitment.

At the age of 15, to gain more experience, he left home to work lambing seasons at the Hopes in the Lammermuir Hills; Blairmains, Blairlogie; Ballochandrain; and with the McIntyres at Ardentraive, returning home to Bute in 1950 to take up appointment as shepherd with Bute Estate. After a short period in the north end at Glenmore, he went to the south end to oversee the New Farm flock, setting up home there.

That year, he married Janet Boag of the Wee Bay, Peter was born in 1952 and Janette in 1956. Sadly, Janet died somewhat untimely in 1958 and so raising a young family with a demanding workload was no mean task.

A lifelong member of Bute Sheepdog Trials Association and an enthusiastic competitor from 1951, Sandy was a valued and knowledgeable committee member and competitor, continually striving for the wellbeing of the association and made honorary vice-president in 1999.

He was a long-time member of Bute Agricultural Society, serving on the committee on numerous occasions, was a regular exhibitor and prize winner, taking the Blackface championship and overall sheep honours over many years.

His daily routine of feeding the stock, began in the Mount Stuart polices in the early hours, there to Scoulag and on to the hill at Dixon’s Dam scanning the flock to ensure all was well. Then it was down the march to Birgidale, Drumreoch and back to New Farm – on foot and at lambing times, likely four times daily.

Suffering a broken ankle a good number of years ago at lambing time, other hands were brought in to help, confusing the sheep that were well aware it wasn’t their shepherd.

With his marriage to Eileen in 1975, Sandy adapted well to a change of lifestyle, and she proved a good soulmate and provider. Jim was born in 1976.

In 1980, in his application to the Royal Highland Society for a long service medal, the completed application required endorsement by the employer. 'The applicant, Alexander McKirdy, has given ______ satisfaction' – without hesitation the factor took up his pen and added ‘absolute’. The presentation was made at the reception given by Lord Bute at Mount Stuart.

Through his untiring efforts establishing a productive flock, entries at Perth and Stirling sales were much sought after. Tups at Dalmally and Newton Stewart made good returns. His reputation as a master stockman and Blackface judge preceding him and he was a regular attendee at sheep sales and mainland shows.

Many upcoming young shepherds owed much to Sandy for his patience in imparting his knowledge and skills with working both sheep and dogs.

As past of his commitment to the local community, he was a member of the former Bannatyne Stewart Pipe Band and in 1949 winner of a piping competition in Bridgend Hall. This made him much in demand at Burns Suppers and social events giving service to the Bute family.

On the occasion of an Eskechraggan Royal Smithfield champion returning home, Sandy piped it ashore.

He was a good neighbour always with a word in the passing enjoying a social get together, willing to help at any time. Repairing the road, usually a Saturday job, he would acquire the estate Fergie tractor and trailer, and neighbours were mustered to shovel with a stop at each house on the road for 'fuel' intake, which prolonged the work but made shovelling so much easier. His quiet humour taking a delight in winding people up.

Bringing in New Year, the torchlight band winding its way along the moor road led by Sandy’s pipes. Gardeners Paul Martin with his banjo, Malcolm Cockrel with fiddle and John Ross, under factor, with the Irish drum – it was a long Hogmanay.

On retiral in 1990, after 39 years’ service with the estate, he was the recipient of a reception at Mount Stuart, receiving a handsome marble ram's head bust (as in the Burrell Collection) presented by the late Lord Bute (John 6th Marquess). Lord Bute with affection and gratitude spoke of Sandy’s loyal and devoted service to his family. Sandy suitably replied in verse –

A 'herd I've been for 39 years to the noble house of Bute.

First with father and with son, progressed my working route.

The hills I’ve climbed for many years on toes and not on heels.

My successor Archie the same will do with the help of a quad’s four wheels.

Although retired, it was not time to stop. Defying the ageing process, on a daily basis he regularly helped out others and had his own small flock. The white van often seen parked in different locations.

Such was the calibre and widespread reputation of this remarkable man, both The Scottish Famer and The Sunday Post deemed it worthy to publish an article on his life’s work; and the local NFU conferred upon him their 'stalwart award'.

Sandy was brought up in a home that placed value on the quality of family life and was proud of his own. Peter and Phyllis, Janette and Ted, Jim and Sandra, plus grandsons Craig, Iain and Ryan, and great-grandchildren Megan, Rory, Louie and Molly.

Eilieen’s death in May, 2020, and then recently of Peter, was a devastating blow to Sandy. It was always thought that Sandy’s meeting with his maker would be in a field with his sheep and on Tuesday, January, 11, that day the crook was in the greater hand, the gather made safely into the fank and the gate quietly shut.

Ian Sinclair