The Islay Show: When People and Place are the Purpose

“Hold her head by the horns – gently; just enough so she doesn’t jerk away.”

I’m standing in the barn of Kevin Wiggins in Port Charlotte, gripping the horns of one of his gimmers (the term for a female sheep that was a lamb the year previous). He hands my six-year-old daughter an electric spray bottle and shows her how to apply the slate brown paint to the wool. Behind them, a chorus of red, yellow, blue, and green ribbons line the railing.

Kevin is the Warehouseman and “Keeper of the Botanist” at Bruichladdich Distillery. Right now, however, all his focus is on prepping his Blackface sheep for the Islay Show. He’s been showing his sheep since 2004, and as the rainbow spread across the shadowy barn wall attests to, he’s been racking up the prizes ever since, including Champion of Champions in 2022.

Kevin and his son have spent the entirety of day prepping the sheep for the Show. Legs are scrubbed, coats are trimmed, and scraggly bits of hair around the face are neatened up before they get an all-over dye – a bit like covering up one’s creeping greys. Back when wool had value, sheep lost points for “blemishes” like black spots in the wool. These days the wool is painted just because...well...tradition.

It’s like a spa day for the animals, though judging the enthusiasm with which they bounce back into the field, I don’t think they see it that way. The sheep I’m holding is getting an extra twist in her horns. A wet towel is wrapped around her eyes and a heat gun is applied a few inches from the end of her horn to make it pliable. Kevin gives it a bit of a bend turning the horn at a slight upward angle.

Joanne Middleton, Bruichladdich Warehouse Operations Manager, who has been helping to steward the sheep on show day for 15 years or more, tells me the first ever Islay Show was in 1838, and it’s run most years since.

“Is the main purpose of the event to show and sell livestock?” I ask her.

"No. No, it’s really just to gather—to see people you haven’t seen all year and have a catchup,” she responds.

On the day of the show, we arrive to find the sheep judging in full swing. Kevin is in the ring handling his gimmers with help from his daughter and friend. Some ten to fifteen sheep wander about in a clump, looking confused as the judge scrutinises them.

Bruichladdich Distillery had six team members entering events this year, along with various family members of employees participating, and a Botanist cocktail bar – the proceeds of which go to the Show committee to support future events. The distillery entrants all had an incredible day of it: every one of them had a win or placement. Mary won first for her Victorian spongecake and 2nd for her men’s buttonhole (a wildflower corsage); Stewart Young two first prizes for his lambs; Kate Hannett a first for her garlic along with multiple placings for other vegetables and flowers; Jay Doherty third for his potatoes and Joanne third for her chocolate cracknel. Even my dog came home with a shiny green rosette, winning fourth with my daughter in the Junior Dog Handling event.

Kevin pulled off an Olympic sweep, Simone Biles-style. His haul brought in five 1sts, five 2nds, six 3rds, one 4th place, and three cups, including the Champion Crofter’s Cup. In another few years, he’s going to need an extension on the barn just to hang his ribbons.

Beyond the sheep ring are other livestock: various breeds of cattle, horses, and dogs. Like every agricultural show, there are tents of local artists and producers, a bouncy house, carnival games, and raffles to support local groups, charities, and events.

I go from the horse ring to the Islay Book Fest tent to the coffee truck to the flower and veg exhibit. Every time I stand still for more than ten seconds, I fall into conversation with someone. Sometimes, it’s with someone I know, like Adam and Amy Hannett, whose daughters are performing Highland Dancing; often, it’s with complete strangers: an amateur gardener admiring the dahlias or two retired GPs running a survey to find out which aspects of the Islay community are strong and which need support.

In a surprise game of six degrees of separation, a number of these strangers turn out to be just one jump away from someone I already know—a common occurrence for Islay residents, no doubt, except that I’d only moved to the island three weeks before.

Joanne’s statement about the purpose of the show began to make sense. The point of Show Day isn’t to achieve something or to distract. The point is, quite simply, to gather. True to the Islay spirit, it’s all about the people and the place. That commitment to community – both the people and the place – is the beating heart of Islay. And it’s the why behind what we do at Bruichladdich Distillery.