Hallowe'en skekling in Shetland and other guising traditions

A week before Hallowe'en, eight of us gathered at Shetland Museum and Archives and sat in a circle around a large pile of straw. Outside was bright sunshine but the wind, and weather forecast, carried stories of impending storms. We were all gathered here for the same purpose. To make a skekler hat.

Before embarking on this task we went to view the museum’s skekler display and learned the history of this costume and its role in Shetland culture. In Scottish Hallowe'en tradition the figure of the guiser is common. People wearing costumes to disguise their identity would visit houses, putting on a performance in exchange for food or money. This tradition of guising has more recently merged with American traditions of trick or treat.

Guising was also a common part of Shetland culture but had its own distinct practices. The most visible being the figure of the skekler.

Folk went house to house dressed in straw petticoats, with tall, intricately woven hats decorated with ribbons, it must have been unsettling to answer a knock at the door on a winter’s night and encounter these figures. And that, of course was the point.

Around Hallowe'en, the veil between worlds was thought to be at its thinnest. Otherworldly beings believed to inhabit the landscape, trows, witches or ghosts, were said to be more powerful at this time. With darkness and extreme weather already making island winters difficult, folk did not want supernatural misfortune in addition to more everyday concerns.

So, when a skekler arrived at your door, with face covered and voice disguised, it was hard to know if they were an earthly neighbour or an unknown spirit. To turn them away was to invite bad luck so the correct course of action was to invite them in. Once inside they danced and played fiddle music, before requesting the householder “gie me something I me bogie, a penny o’ money, a bit o’ flesh”. People gave a little of what they had, after which the skeklers would continue on their way.

Unlike Scottish guising, which is limited to Halloween night, Skeklers could visit at other times. They were a regular sight at New Year and sometimes even at wedding parties. Their visits are thought to have been part of a ritual to ensure winter’s end and the return of the sun.

Although there are written accounts of skekling, there are no photographs of the practice. The commonly used image appearing alongside descriptions is one of children dressed in straw from the island of Fetlar in 1909, but this was as part of a different festival rather than traditional skekling.

The costumes on display at Shetland Museum today are reconstructions based on the Fetlar photograph and archival records. As I looked at the hat, noticing the size and intricate patterns of woven straw, completing one in a few hours seemed impossible.

Our first task was to make around 30 bundles of straw. As we worked we chatted about Hallowe'en traditions with several people sharing their stories about kale casting. Traditionally, this Hallowe'en mischief involved picking kale from a neighbour's garden and throwing it into their house.

Although a few people remembered actual vegetables being thrown, the more recent versions of this were of more general, and considerably more elaborate, practical jokes – including somebody’s boat being placed on their roof during the night and a flock of sheep being encouraged into a crofter’s kitchen.

As we chatted the bundles of straw next to us grew. We were using straw from locally grown oats, like what would have been used in the past.

Traditionally households in Shetland needed to be very self sufficient and people learned to make use of the resources available to them. Island straw weaving is a beautiful example of this. Everything from baskets, roofs, chairbacks and of course skekler costumes, could be made from straw.

Knowledge of traditional weaving techniques was almost lost but recent community effort has seen an increased interest and awareness of this practice. Events like the one I attended in the museum, preserve and promote endangered skills as well as being a lovely way to spend an afternoon.

After we had completed the first steps it was time for the more complicated part. I had a length of string, 10 times longer than the circumference of my head and now had to learn to join them straw bundles together.

As I struggled with the knotting technique and my straw bundles were not lining up neatly, I was reassured that skekler hats were likely to have been a bit rough and ready, with folk making them from what they had. Eventually, with a lot of help, my hat was ‘stitched’ together and it was time to start decorating it. Some other participants, whose straw skills were far better than mine, created elaborate sculptures with pleats and ribbons. Although mine was simpler, four pleats tied at the top and decorated with knitting scraps, I felt very proud of my creation.

I couldn’t resist putting it on and sneaking up on the kids when they came home from school, thinking it might give them a little fright. Instead, they thought it was hilarious and took turns wearing it.

A few days later I took the kids to the museum to see the skekler outfit there. As we wandered around the displays, we talked about Halloween traditions.

They are familiar with the concept of guising and carving neepie lanterns, but were intrigued by kale casting. They excitedly asked if they could do it this Halloween. Deciding that none of my neighbours would appreciate root vegetables arriving unexpectedly in their living rooms or sheep being caad (thrown) into their homes, I tried to think of something a little less disruptive.

We settled for painting some scary, glow in the dark stones, that on Halloween night we will place around the neighbourhood. And now, any time we might go guising, I have the perfect hat for it. Next year I might even get some more straw and complete the outfit!

Explore more traditional Shetland skills and teach yourself at home!