Otters on Lindisfarne

I may have told this story before, but there you go - we're keen on recycling at The House of Stories, and a good story can always bear a re-telling. I was telling this one to some children yesterday, and it went down rather well with them.

The Isle of Lindisfarne lies just of the Northumberland coast within sight of Bamburgh, which was the seat of the kings fourteen hundred years ago. It's a tidal island, which means that when the tide is out you can walk or drive to it. There's a causeway, and also the Pilgrim's Way across the sands. When Oswald became King of Northumbria in the seventh century he invited Aidan and a party of monks from Iona to share the Christian faith, and they began a monastery on Lindisfarne. Sometime after the death of Aidan, Cuthbert became the abbot of Lindisfarne.

Why Cuthbert is not the patron saint of the UK, I have no idea. Home grown and a thoroughly good guy, humble and spiritual with a respectable tally of miracles. I like him because he was animal friendly, too. On this coast there are eider ducks, which are not a bit like your average ducks. They are black and white (Newcastle United ducks) and they don't quack, they hoot. They are also the source of eiderdown, but Cuthbert wouldn't have had an eiderdown. Sacking and straw were more his sort of thing. And if anyone thought that eider duck would be nice for dinner - no chance. Not with Cuthbert around. They were under his protection. When he sat by the shore teaching, it's said that the eider ducks would gather round him. He was a man who respected all living creatures, and they accepted him.

'Tell us about the otters!' you cry. Here they come! One of the novice monks noticed that Cuthbert would leave his cell at night, and was curious to know where he went. One night, he followed him. Cuthbert walked down to the sea. (This was the North Sea at night, and believe me, it's freezing.) To the astonishment of the novice, Cuthbert waded up to his neck in the sea and stood there saying and singing his prayers as the waves washed around him. At last he came back to the shore and stood on the sand, dripping wet in the cold air.

Two otters ran along the shore to greet him. They rolled over his feet. They rubbed up against his legs and put up their paws for a cuddle. When they'd got him thoroughly dried off and warmed up, he blessed them and they ran away across the shore.

nd remind me to tell you, one day, about the time when I found that I needed otters on Mistmantle.