This story is from Folk Tales and
Fairy Lore in Gaelic and English:
Collected from Oral Tradition by
Rev. James MacDougall, and edited
by Rev. George Calder, 1910. It is
in the third section of Fairy Stories
called: “Water Sprites," which deals
with Urisks and Water Horses, pages
302-307. The English translation in
the book is old-fashioned and in Scots
English, so I have provided below my
version in modern English based on
the Gaelic text. I have added words
where I saw fit to make the story flow
easier and make more sense. I have
almost eliminated apostrophes I
found annoying in the Gaelic text.
My English Translation:
Big Alastair was the best and luckiest
fisherman in his community. As soon as
he would see what looked like a good
shower coming on, he would sling his
rod over his shoulder and would trot
off to the river.
One warm summer evening, in which
there was a drizzling rain, he headed
off to the river as usual, and after he got
his rod in order and cast out the tackle.
As soon as the hook hit the water, the
trout started biting better than he had
ever seen. He was pulling the trout in
so fast one after another that he didn’t
have time to pause to one of them on a
withy or string. So he threw them on the
green grass of the riverbank with the
intention of returning to them when the
fishing was over. His mind was so much
on his work that night came unnoticed
upon him.
He then took a look beside him, and
who did he see fishing beside him but
a big Urisk and he was hauling in trout
after trout with him and throwing them
together with his on the grass, but there
was nothing he could do or any point in
saying anything in that situation. So, he
and his companion kept on fishing until
most of the night was over.
Then the Urisk said: “We better stop
Big Alasdair and divide up the fish.”
“No way,” said Big Alastair, “We
shouldn’t at all, the fish are biting too
well.”
Without another word, the Urisk
grudgingly went back to fishing.
After a little while he called again:
“Okay, let’s stop now Big Alastair
and divide up the fish!”
“Hang on a little longer”, said
Alastair, “I’ve never seen fish biting
so good before!”
The Urisk did as requested, but he
wasn’t happy about it, because day was
coming on and he had had enough.
So, shortly afterwards, he called a
third time for Alastair to stop and Alatair
knew by the tone of the beast’s voice,
that there was no use asking for a
further delay.
So he turned to the Urisk and asked
him: “Do you want to gather up the fish
or divide them up?” The Urisk answered:
“I’ll gather them up and you divide them
up.” “I don’t know how to divide them
up” said Alastair. “Poo, that isn’t hard,
just put them fish up and fish down,
a fish here and a fish there, …and the
last big fish will be for me!”
Big Alastair wasn’t too crazy about
this plan because he knew that he was
the big fish that the Urisk wanted as
part of his share before daybreak. But
what could he do to disappoint the
creature? Day was coming, and if he
left the job still unfinished when it
came, he would be safe.
He started to divide the fish up, but
didn’t act in a way that it would go
quick. If a fish didn’t slip out of his
hands, he would lose count, or some
other mishap would hold him up.
The Urisk was losing his mind, and
every accident that Alastair made
made him even more distressed. He
shook his head and shoulders, and
would dance around, and in a half-
angry, half-begging voice, would
plead: “Be careful, Big Alasdair! Pay
attention to what you’re doing!”
But Alastair just let his plea go in
one ear and out the other.
Finally, a red rooster awoke, and
delivered Alastair from the situation
he was in. When it crowed on the hill
above the river the Urisk immediately
vanished. Alastair took the fish and
returned home. But since that day to
the day of his death he wouldn’t fish
on that river after nightfall.
My edited Version the
Original Gaelic Text:
Bha Alastair Mor na iasgair-slaite
cho math agus cho tograch is a bha
anns an aite d’am buineadh e. Cho
luath is a chitheadh e coltas deagh
fhroise a’ tighinn, ghrad-thilgeadh
e a shlat thar a ghualainn, agus air
falbh na throtan ghabhadh e
dh’ionnsaidh na h-aibhne.
Air feasgar blà th samhraidh, agus
ceòban math uisge ann, thug e an
abhainn air, mar bu ghnà th leis;
agus an déidh dha an t-slat a chur
an òrdugh, thilg e mach don uisge,
thòisich an aon ghabhail air an iasg
a b’fheà rr a chunnaic e riamh. Bha e
a’ slaodadh nam breac a stigh cho
tiugh an déidh a chéile is nach robh
ùine aige feitheamh ri’n cur aon chuid
air gad no air sreing. Ach thilg e iad air
an fheur ghlas air bruaich na h-aibhne
le rùn tilleadh air an son an uair a bhith-
eadh an t-iasgach seachad. Bha a aire
cho mór air an obair a bha aige is gu’n
d’thà inig an oidhche air gun fhios da.
Thug e an sin sùil na dhéidh, agus cò
a chunnaic e ag iasgach r’a thaobh
ach Uruisg mór is e a’ toirt a stigh
breac air a’ bhreac ris, agus gan
tilgeadh còmhla r’a chuid éisg-san
air an fheur. Cha robh comas air,
no feum aon diog a rà dh. Ach chum
e féin agus a chompanach air an
iasgach, gus an deachaidh a’chuid a
b’fheà rr de’n oidhche thairis.
An sin ghlaodh an t-Uruisg: “Is
mithich stad, Alastair Mhóir, agus an
t-iasg a roinn.” “Ud! Ud!” ars
Alastair Mór, “cha mhithich idir, agus
an t-iasg ag gabhail cho math.” Gun
tuilleadh a rà dh thill an t-Uruisg gu
doicheallach ris an iasgach. An ceann
ùine maithe na dhéidh sin ghlaodh e
rithis: “Stad a nis, Alstair Mhóir, agus
roinneamaid an t-iasg.” “Dean
foidhidinn bheag fhatast,” ars Alastair,
“agus nach faca mi riamh roimhe, a
leithid de ghabhail air an iasg.” Rinn
an t-Uruisg mar dh’iarradh air, ach
cha b’ann gu toileach; oir bha an
latha a’tighinn, agus iasgach eile
r’a dheanamh mun tigeadh e. Uime
sin, an ùine ghoirid, ghoadh e an treas
uair air Alastair stad. Thuig Alastair o
fhuaim guth na béiste nach robh feum
feum sam bith tuilleadh dà il iarraidh.
Le sin thionndaidh e ris, agus
thubhairt e: “Co dhiubh a thrusas tusa
an t-iasg, no roinneas tu iad?” Fhreagair
an t-Uruisg: “Trusaidh mise iad, agus
roinneadh tusa iad.” “Chan eil fios
agamsa ciamar a roinneas mi iad,” ars
Alastair. “Hù! Chan eil sin duilich.
Sgiolam shìos, is sgiolam shuas;
sgiolam thall, is sgiolam a bhos, agus
an sgiolam mhór mu dheireadh dhomh
fhein.”
Cha do chòrd an roinn so ach dona
ri Alastair Mór, oir thuig e gum b'esan
an sgiolam mhór a b’à ill leis an Uruisg
fhaotainn air a earrainn mun tigeadh
an latha. Ach ciod a bha e r’a dheanamh
chum an trusdar a mhealladh? Bha an
a’tighinn, agus nan cumadh e an obair
neo-chrìochnaichte gus an tigeadh e,
bhitheadh e tèaruinte.
Thòisich e air an iasg a roinn ach
a réir coltais cha robh cabhag air an
obair sin a chrìochnachadh. Mur
sleamhnaicheadh an t-iasg as a
là mhan, rachadh an cunntas am
mearachd air, no thachradh driod-
fhortan eigin eile a chuireadh bacadh
air. Bha an t-Uruisg ag call a
fhoidhidinn, agus cha robh tubaist a
thigeadh air Alastair nach rob ag cur
teine r’a chorruich.
Chrathadh e a cheann is a
ghuaillean, phostadh e an talamh le a
chasan, agus le guth leth-chrosda,
leth-ghearanach ghlaodhadh e: “Nach
toir thu an aire, Alastair Mhóir! Nach
toir thu an aire, Alastair Mhóir!” Ach
leigeadh Alastair le a earail dol a
stigh air an aon chluais agus a mach
air a’chluais eile.
Mu dheireadh dhùig an coileach
ruadh, agus thug e fuasgladh dha as
a’ chà s anns an robh e. Ghoir e air
tom os ceann na h-aibhne, agus air
ball chaidh an t-Uruisg as an t-sealladh.
Thog Alastair leis an t-iasg, agus thill
e dhachaidh. Ach o’n là sin gu là a’
bhà is cha deachaidh e dh’iasgach
bhreac air an abhainn an déidh do’n
oidhche tuiteam.
Notes on the Gaelic text:
The story speaks of Big Alasdair
taking a look behide him (“Thug
e an sin sùil na dhèidh”) at the
Urusig, which doesn't make sense,
so I have changed it to a look be-
side him. I think it likely the
person recording the tale, noted it
or wrote it down incorrectly. The
word “Sgiolam” appears to refer
to a fish's endlessly opening and
closing mouth, it is a sort of
nickname. I have just translated as
“fish”. The Urisk appears to be
referring to putting fish alter-
natively head up or head down as
a way of equally dividing and
organizing the fish.
In this blog I will be respecting
what has become a tradition of
writing the word “Uruisg” in
English as “Urisk”, but a better re-
presentation of the word’s pronun-
ciation would be “Oorisk”, I think.
What is the meaning of this story?
This a story about an Urisk, a monster
that we should think of as basically
bigfoot: a hairy giant (to give you
something to picture as you read the
story). The fisherman and the Urisk
enter into a conflict over a fishing
spot. It is portrayed as a fishing com-
petition, but it was more likely a simple
territorial dispute. This is a fairly com-
mon Bigfoot story: a fisherman fishes
on a river at night and has big rocks
thrown at him from the bushes, and
hears strange voices, as the creature
attempts to drive the human off from
his favourite fishing spot. Similarly,
in this story the monster arrives at his
favourite fishing spot on the river to
find a fisherman has inconveniently
stayed past nightfall. The Urisk, like
Bigfoot, is mainly nocturnal creature
and this is when he would be most
active. The ending sentence is very
typical resolution of stories of hunters
and fishermen that have an encounter
with Bigfoot: hunters no longer hunt,
and fishermen no longer fish in areas
where they have felt threatened by the
monster.
The Urisk naturally disappears at
dawn, it has nothing to do with cock's
crowing, it just does not like to be seen
in the light of day. The Urisk is not
described in very much detail, and with-
out close attention, someone without
an understanding of folklore would likely
believe it to be something more human-
looking and acting than what he is, due to
it talking and reacting to Alasdair Mor
like a human in the story. Note that his
method of “fishing” is not actually des-
cribed, leaving the reader to assume that
he has a fishing rod too, when he is more
likely to be catching fish with his hands.
It is a a short story, but giving the Urisk
speech and human characteristcs makes
the storylonger and more amusing than
the horror story it was likely based on.
It seems to be just a story about two Gaels,
except for a couple of sinister notes (the
part about him being in danger of being
eaten himself, and the concluding
sentence). It has been made into a fairy
tale about a clever hero outsmarting a
monster that is portrayed like a dumb
and impatient person. That is typical in a
lot of Scottish folk tales of this era. These
sort of creatures appear to have been con-
sidered gods or god in the pagan past,
but once Gaels gained a grasp of Christ-
ianity but before they completely stopped
believing in them, Geals began to mock
such beings in folk tales.
The speech of the Urisk is very telling
and characteristic in that it is repetitive:
the word “fish” is repeated again and
again. This has to do with them being
seen as "Echoes". In ancient times and
in other languages (such as French) there
was a concept of an echo being a being
like an Urisk that sits and listens to hu-
man speech and repeats it. The fact that
the Urisk knows Big Alasdair’s name
isn’t by magic, it is because it has been
listening and watching, and heard
someone calling his name. This is not
explained in the story, because this
would have been common knowledge
to the Highland audience.
© C.A. MacLennan 2025
You will a videos of me reciting
this story eventually at:
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