Burns Night's rarest haggis - from Scotland's lost flock of sheep

For having lovingly nurtured her small group of Boreray sheep into a thriving community of seven flocks dotted at farms around Orkney and numbering more than 200, their highly prized and exceedingly rare meat has been turned into haggis for the first time.

The unusual delicacy has been made using offal from some recently slaughtered Orkney Boreray sheep by Forres-based butcher, Jock Gibson. It has now gone on sale at his shop, MacBeth’s, in time for Burns Night.

As well as a chance to pay tribute to the bard with an exceptionally unusual haggis, the dish presents diners with a taste of ancient Scotland, rewinding to when the Boreray’s ancestor, Dunface sheep, were common at homesteads where their fleece was used to make clothes and textiles, milk for cheese and their meat consumed.

The Orkney Boreray haggis is the latest instalment in a remarkable journey for the rare breed which spans the Neolithic Age, reflects the dramatic consequences of the Highland Clearances and the heartbreaking decision of St Kilda’s islanders to abandon their homes, with a perplexing mystery over why some of the rare sheep ended up as outcasts thrown in.

Boreray sheep have direct links to Scotland's extinct Dunface breed (Image: Jane Cooper)

At the centre of is Jane, a passionate knitter whose affection for the breed’s precious yarn drove her to swap life in the north of England for the ups and downs of an Orkney croft and the quest to bring the few sheep from one tiny ‘lost flock’ back from the brink.

Having fallen for the small but sturdy little sheep with their curled horns and unusual fleece, she then embarked on a passionate hunt for their origins.

It would lead to long overlooked genetic research which has revealed Boreray sheep to have overwhelmingly strong links to Scotland’s long since declared extinct Scottish Dunface breed.

While her enthusiasm for the breed has spread to others: as well as providing mutton and the offal for haggis, the Orkney Boreray flocks are supporting a range of cottage industries: the fleece is spun into yarn at North Ronaldsay mill used for tweeds and scarves; their horns and bones are being turned into ornamental items; skins into rugs and there are hopes to eventually use their milk for cheese and develop products like hand creams.

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While looking ahead, it’s hoped some of their distinctive characteristics honed over centuries of adapting to wet and wild Highland weather, may become a rich resource as climate change impacts on modern sheep farming.

Jane has detailed her journey in her new book, The Lost Flock, which reveals how she became sheep breed detective, pouring over long forgotten genetic research and striving to raise awareness of what makes the Boreray sheep special.

She said: “They are a fantastic breed. They are not much changed from the first sheep brought to Scotland 6,000 years ago.

“Unlike modern sheep which came with the Romans which flock together when alarmed, they scatter so you have to handle them differently.

“They have horns and their fleece is different colours so you can tell them apart really easily.

“They are also quite tame, some will come to me for a treat, others are a bit shy. But they are so primitive that they naturally shed their fleece – like wild sheep in St Kilda – so instead of shearing them normally you can ‘roo’ them. Just before the fleece falls off you can pluck it off.”

Boreray are descended from the Scottish Dunface, which in turn is linked to the North Atlantic short-tailed sheep originally brought to Europe by Neolithic farmers thousands of years ago.

Orkney crofter Jane Cooper with a Boreray lamb (Image: Jane Cooper)

For centuries, Dunface were vital to everyday life however, the Romans introduced new breeds which gradually displaced Britain’s primitive sheep.

By the late 18th century, wealthy landowners wanted sheep that would provide a better income. Just as Highland families were cleared from crofts and homes, the Dunface numbers were eviscerated.

Some, however, had been taken to the isolated archipelago of St Kilda and, in particular, the tiny island of Boreray.

Jane’s interest was sparked by a chance comment on an online knitting forum in 2008.

She discovered some Boreray sheep were gathered up and taken to the mainland in the 1970s when breeding flocks were established. All but one group in a remote Highland location, known as ‘the lost flock’ were officially registered by the Rare Breeds Survival Trust.

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It set her on a labour of love which eventually led to their keepers, Bob and Ann Cook of Assynt, who had kept meticulous breeding records of their flock for decades.

When Jane learned he had an uncastrated ram available, she seized the chance to take it on.

“I ended up buying a small croft with 25 acres of land in Orkney,” she said. “The rest then is inevitable.”

Having started with four rams and 11 ewes, she has grown her own Boreray Orkney flock and inspired others to join her quest: there are now 19 rams from four separate lines with seven flocks, and more than 200 sheep.

The Orkney Borerays are now recognised as coming from a separate line to other mainland sheep, making them a unique subset within the breed and even more special.

However, it was Jane’s determination to unlock more of the Boreray sheep’s secrets that led her to genetic research carried out in 2013 on their close neighbours, Soay sheep, which roam on the St Kilda island of Hirta, that has given her the biggest thrill.

“They had Soay sheep on St Kilda since the Bronze Age, but at some point in the 17th century a group of Dunface were taken over,” she explains.

“A group of them was put on tiny Boreray island.

Orkney Boreray fleece is being woven into high quality yarn (Image: Jane Cooper)

“In late 19th century the Laird sent blackface rams to Hirta to make the St Kilda sheep bigger and give them longer fleece.

“It was assumed by 20th century research that the blackface sheep outbred the Dunface on Boreray, and what was left there was a Scottish blackface cross.”

Genetic research carried out on the Soay sheep, however, included DNA findings for the Boreray sheep which to Jane’s shock revealed the bulk of the Boreray sheep’s makeup was, in fact, ‘extinct’ Dunface.

“I was astonished,” she added. “I think people just forgot that Dunface had been taken to St Kilda, they declared the Dunface extinct and that the Boreray sheep was a Scottish blackface cross.

“But this means the Dunface sheep is not completely extinct because we have an essence of the original Dunface in our Boreray sheep.

“It’s a feel-good story for Scotland at a time when so many species are at risk of being lost.

“Scotland has got back its ancient breed of sheep.”