Tim's Tales: The mystery surrounding The Boar Stone

I was welcomed by a very friendly and kind member of the household, who agreed I could take some photos. It is, after all, a private garden and as such needs to be respected.

The stone’s story has intrigued me for a long time. It’s called the Boar Stone and it was moved here by a farmer from its original location in a field to the south well over a hundred years ago.

It was moved because it was in a field where agricultural equipment was used, but it is telling that the farmer felt the stone was special enough to preserve.

It is described on certain sites specialising in ancient stones as a broken cross shaft with chamfered edges. In other words, this stone has been worked on and carved, and possibly had a cross of some sort on top. If so, that has eroded and is long gone.

The Boar Stone

The truth is, there is very little that can be said for certain about this stone, other than it is old and was once situated a bit to the south where a wind turbine now dominates the skyline. But there are two fragments of folklore associated with it.

One is that this stone, in its original position, marked the site of the death of a boar, possibly the last boar killed in East Lothian.

However, there is another tale about the last boar killed in our county and in this tale the location of the creature’s death is placed near Saltcoats Castle, south of Gullane by the Peffer Burn.

In this story, the boar is slain by a member of the Livingston family of Saltcoats, by the banks of the burn.

But wait. If you follow the Peffer Burn it runs just to the north of Prora Farm. So maybe the infamous “Saltcoats ravenous boar” was actually killed further upstream, close to where that distinctive modern wind turbine now dominates the view?

I found a reference to the Boar Stone in 1854 which states it is “a large standing stone on the farm of Prora, said to mark the spot where Livingston slew the wild boar” (see Scotland’s Places). So that seems to be it, then. It’s the same boar.

But wait again, for there is another fragment of a totally different tradition connected to the Boar Stone.

READ MORE: Tim's Tales: A lesson I won’t forget

This is a suggestion that the Boar Stone was, in fact, originally a memorial to a distant battle fought at the place. Which battle could this refer to?

The field across the road from the original location is called Bloodysides. There has long been a belief, supported by Nigel Tranter and others, that this was the site of the Battle of Athelstaneford.

So, was the Boar Stone at Prora Farm originally a Bore Stone, with a medieval cross shaft marking the location of this famous but elusive battle?

Was the tradition of the killed boar a later invention, perhaps taking an existing story of the Saltcoats boar and rededicating it to this location?

After all, Boar Stone and Bore Stone sound exactly the same, so did some past storyteller decide the Bore Stone was actually a Boar Stone, to connect it to the story of the well-known nearby boar hunt?

Then the family kindly showed me an old map of the farm, dated 1862. The original location is clearly marked, with the spelling Bore Stone.

Boar could previously be found in East Lothian

“Hmm,” I thought.

For an answer to the mystery, I stood in front of the stone and wondered what it would tell me if it could speak.

Its dappled appearance in the dying light of a winter’s afternoon made me think I could see the faint remains of carvings and images.

Perhaps this was just my wishful imagination.

I glanced south to the wind turbine where it once stood, then north to where the Peffer Burn flows. I reflected on how much the landscape here has changed over the centuries. Just then, a train rushed by, as if it wanted to remind me of which century I was in.

The fragments of tradition and folklore attached to the stone reveal that it was once a significant local landmark, whatever its original symbolism was.

Now it stands as a silent witness to the past, intriguingly holding its secrets. It’s shadowed by magnificent Scots pines which grow along the edge of the garden. These trees also speak of a lost image of this area, which in the times when boars roamed would have been more heavily wooded.

As I left and headed for home, I was greeted with a spectacular sunset. Maybe you saw it too, it painted the sky a vivid yellow and orange. It didn’t last long, and by the time I got home the sun had vanished and darkness fallen.

The little excursion to see the Boar Stone left me thinking that sometimes we are not meant to know things or meanings for sure, and that’s OK, because instead we are invited to wonder and imagine.

Whatever its secrets are, the Boar Stone has survived and is now lovingly kept and cared for in a private garden.

We can glimpse it as we rush past in a car or train. But I suspect the vast majority of people will not even notice this silent witness to our ancient past.