The Flight of the Golden Bird

by Duncan Williamson

  The next thing he heard was a whistle. His master was back from the hills with the two young dogs. The shepherd came before them with a large tray of food and he put the dogs in the byre. Then he walked to his little cottage beside the farmhouse to have his own breakfast. But the old dog didn’t feel like eating. He didn’t feel like anything. He just wanted one thing – to look at the baby – because he had never seen his face. After the young dogs had fed themselves, they curled up and went to sleep, and the old collie dog went to sleep.

  How long he slept he doesn’t know, but the next thing he hears is hoof-hoof beats on the floor. In comes the old donkey just by himself. And instead of going to his own stall he walks into the stall where the old dog lies.

  The old collie looks up, says, “Hello, old friend, you’re back!”

  And the donkey speaks to the dog, “Yes, I’m back. I had such a wonderful experience. I walked to the village and I carried this beautiful young woman and her child. But,” he says, “I feel queer and funny now.”

  “And did you see the baby?” says the collie dog.

  “Yes,” says the donkey, “I saw the baby, the most beautiful baby in this world!”

  And the old collie says, “I wish I had seen the baby.”

  “You will,” says the donkey, “some day you will see him. He will come again. He will come again and everyone will understand. But not talking about him or talking about you,” says the donkey, “do you see something strange about me?”

  “No,” says the collie, “I don’t see anything strange about you. You’re just a donkey to me and I’m just a dog to you.”

  “Look again,” says the donkey. “Look once more. See if there’s something about me that you’ve never seen before!”

  And the collie looks and says, “You’ve four legs like me and you’ve got a tail. You’ve got a head and ears like I’ve got. You’ve got a mane and hair – just like me.”

  “No,” says the donkey, “there’s something else you must see. And I hope in the future many people will see it, for when they see it they’ll probably understand.”

  “Understand what?” says the collie dog. “Tell me what you mean!”

  “Look on my shoulders,” says the donkey, “and tell me what you see.”

  The collie stood up. He put his front paws up against the wall and he looked. The donkey wasn’t very high. He looked on the donkey’s back, and lo and behold for the first time in his life – across the donkey’s shoulders – was the cross, in black.

  “What is that?” said the collie, who had never seen this before.

  “That,” said the donkey, “is the mark of the child who was born this night. It was given to me and will remain with me for eternity, until some day he comes and shows his face to everyone.”

  “Then maybe I’ll see him,” said the dog. “Maybe I will see him again?”

  “You’ll see him,” said the donkey. “You’ll see him again; maybe not in this world, but maybe in another one when we leave this place.”

  And that is the end of my story.

  The Hare and the Scarecrow

  Once upon a time there was this scarecrow and he’d stood in the field all summer scaring off the birds. After all the harvest was cut and it came near Christmas time, the farmer forgot about the scarecrow and left him in the field. Poor little scarecrow was so sad! No one ever came along and said hello. He just stood there in the field, no one to speak to, just a lonely old scarecrow. Then one morning just before Christmas along came a large brown hare, and he stopped beside the scarecrow.

  He said, “Good morning, Mr Scarecrow!”

  And the scarecrow was so glad to have someone to talk to, he said, “Oh, good morning, Mr Hare!”

  The hare said, “Why are you so sad and lonely standing all by yourself in the field when everyone around the world is so happy because it’s Christmas time?”

  And the scarecrow said, “What can I do? I’m just an old scarecrow. All the birds are gone because it’s wintertime and no one seems to want to bother with me any more.”

  The hare said, “Look, Mr Scarecrow, it’s not right that you should stand in the field in the cold winter months after spending all summer scaring off the birds for the farmer!”

  And the scarecrow said, “There’s nothing really I can do about it. The farmer has forgotten me.”

  The hare said, “I know why he’s forgotten about you – because he is busy up in his house decorating a nice Christmas tree for his children. He bought his children all these lovely presents for Christmas and tonight they’re going to have a great party. And you, poor scarecrow, are left in the field all alone by yourself after working so hard all summer; so that the farmer could have nice crops of grain to sell for money to buy all these presents for his children – and have a nice Christmas party! It is not fair.”

  And the scarecrow said, “There’s nothing really I can do, because I’m just a scarecrow!”

  Then along comes a woodland fairy. She hears what the scarecrow has said. She stops aside him, and she too is sorry for the scarecrow.

  She says to him, “I too am not very happy about this.”

  The scarecrow says, “Look, there’s nothing I can do… I cannot walk.”

  And the fairy says, “Yes, you can. Because I am going to put a magic spell on you for two hours tonight and you can do anything you like. You can walk and go wherever you want to go! But remember, you must not talk – or the spell will be broken.”

  And the scarecrow says, “I would love to go to the farmhouse and join the children’s Christmas party.”

  The fairy says, “You have got two hours to yourself to do what you like.” And the scarecrow was happy.

  The hare said, “It’s just right that he should have these things because he’s worked so hard.” The hare went on his journey and the woodland fairy flew off, left the scarecrow all by himself.

  Now, the scarecrow, he stood in the field and rubbed his hands together, said, “I don’t want to go too early; I don’t want to go too late. I will just wait till the children begin their Christmas party. Then I’ll go and join them.”

  Back in the farmhouse the farmer was busy putting up the Christmas tree, putting all the presents under and lighting it up for his three children. Then, the scarecrow thought it was time – now it was quite dark, about six o’clock – and the children had begun their party.

  So, the scarecrow got down from the stake he was tied to. And when he started to walk he felt so light and free. “Oh, dear,” he said, “at last I’m free from this field!”

  He walked and walked till he came to the farmer’s door. He looked through the window and saw the great big Christmas tree. All the children were happy. They had party hats on, they were singing and dancing and having great fun. But the poor scarecrow he didn’t know how to open the door! So, he just sat all alone and wished he could join the children.

  But the farmer was so busy with his children, helping them, having party games and all the fun, he felt so warm in the house, he said, “I think I’ll go outside for a few minutes and get a breath of fresh air.”

  The farmer walked to the door, opened it and walked out on the steps. And lo and behold who should be sitting there but the scarecrow! The farmer scratched his head and said to himself, “I wonder where in the world did you come from? The last time I saw you, you were down in my ten-acre field scaring the crows. But you’ve been a good scarecrow to me; you scared all the birds away all summer and you worked really hard. I think it’s about time you should come and join our Christmas party!” So, the farmer lifted up the scarecrow and carried it inside.

  And the children said, “Daddy, Daddy! What have you brought?”

  He said, “Children, gather round, because I have a little friend who comes to visit you!”

  And the children said, “Daddy, it’s the scarecrow!”

  “I know, children,” he said, “it’s the scarecrow. But you must remember… Come up here till I tell you a wee story. I buil
t this scarecrow myself and I made him nice. I gave him a hat and I gave him a turnip for a head. I gave him hands and legs made of straw and I put him in my field to scare away the birds. If I didn’t do that then the birds would eat all the grain, and the grain would never grow up – I wouldn’t have any harvest. And if I didn’t have any harvest then I wouldn’t get any money, and if I didn’t get any money then I couldn’t buy you children all these wonderful presents and make this lovely Christmas tree. It’s all because of the scarecrow. So, I think it’s about time he should come and join the Christmas party!”

  And the children said, “Yes, Daddy, we understand. Please, put him beside the Christmas tree!”

  So, the farmer carried the scarecrow and put him beside the tree. And the scarecrow was happy to be there. Then the children started to dance and sing, carry on and have their party games. But lo and behold the scarecrow got so excited he couldn’t help himself; he got up and walked on the floor. He started to sing and he started to dance. And he danced and sang, danced and sang and clapped his hands. The farmer and his children were so taken away with this scarecrow they thought it was magic. They couldn’t believe a scarecrow would do this. Then, forgetting what the fairy had told him, the scarecrow was just going to tell stories about all the birds in the field that he’s seen… when the clock struck eight and the scarecrow fell on the floor.

  The farmer was amazed. He picked him up and said, “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  The children said, “Daddy, please, put him beside the Christmas tree again… he must be a magic scarecrow!”

  And the farmer said, “No, he is not a magic scarecrow; he is just an old scarecrow. But he will never again stand in a cold field in the winter months. When all the harvest is off the field and all the birds have flown away for the winter, our scarecrow will join our Christmas party – every year!”

  The children were so happy and excited they said, “Yes, Daddy, please, let’s have the scarecrow for next Christmas!”

  “Right, children,” he said, “have your party!”

  The farmer carried the scarecrow and put him in the shed, shut him up for the rest of the winter till the next summer came along. Then he placed him back in the field again. And the scarecrow was happy, for he’d heard the farmer saying that he would join the children at their Christmas party next year. The scarecrow looked forward to it.

  And that is the end of my wee story.

  The Henwife and Old Father Time

  The old woman, she was tired as she struggled from the sea with her bundle of driftwood on her back. She had carried driftwood from the shoreside for many, many days, building up a large quantity to see her through the winter. She was an old hen woman and she lived very close to the sea. The days were very short. It was the middle of winter. But the old woman had lost track of time because she never got very many visitors. She was just an old woman who lived by herself. All she had to keep her alive was taking her eggs into the village day by day to sell. She had ducks and hens, and the ducks went on the shoreside, but always came home and laid within their little shed by the side of her little cottage. And she trusted they would lay nowhere else.

  She had carried three bundles, built them up, put them up to dry. This was the only kind of fuel that she used during the winter. She had a large fire and depended on the driftwood. She went back for the fourth load, tied a rope round it, put it on her back and carried it up from the beach.

  When lo and behold she landed up the door of the cottage – there, stood before her, was an old man with a long white beard and a long coat and sandals on his feet. Now the old woman had never got many visits in her life and she was surprised to see the stranger standing before her. He was an old man. And she could see by the way he stood stooped and bended, he was very, very old.

  She placed the bundle of sticks from her back in a heap, then turned round and said, “Hello, Stranger!”

  He said, “Hello!”

  She says, “What can I do for you?”

  “Well,” he said, “I have come a long, long way and I’m weary and tired. I wonder if you could give me a drink?”

  “A drink,” she says, “I’ve got plenty of, if ye just hold on a moment till I lay down these sticks. I’ll give ye a drink.”

  The old woman was very glad to see someone to talk to. She took off the rope that she had round her sticks, piled them up so they would dry, criss-crossed to let the wind in between them. And the old stranger stood watching her. He waited patiently by her side till she had finished her work.

  And then she said, “Come with me, old man.”

  He looked older than her – she was very old by herself – but he looked old with his long grey beard and his long coat. But the most amazing thing she ever saw in her life was that he had sandals on his feet… She had never seen an old man walking with sandals before. So, after she packed her sticks up to dry, she welcomed him into her little cottage. Took in a few sticks; the fire was very low but she soon kindled it up, put some more sticks on, the driest ones she could pick, and placed the old man by the chair.

  She said, “What would ye like tae drink?”

  “Anything, my dear,” he said, “would suit me.”

  So, she walked in, and this old woman had made some wine during the summer months with her many elderberry bushes along the beachside. She always made wine when the elderberry was ripe. And she’d always had two-three bottles of wine. So she took a bottle with a glass and she gave the old man a drink. He sat by the fire and she sat down in a chair across from him. And he sat there with his old ragged coat and his long grey beard and his sandals on his feet. The old woman was amazed and wondered in her own mind where in the world did this old man come from? She thought, “Probably he’ll tell me a story and tell me something about his life.”

  The old man sat and he drank the wine. He said, “That is very good. Did ye make it yerself?”

  “Yes,” she said, “I made it myself.”

  “Well,” he said, “it’s very good. Did ye make it from the berries of the elderberry?”

  She said, “Yes, I made it from the elderberry. I pick the berries along the hedgerow and I make it.”

  “Well,” he said, “it is very good.”

  They sat there and talked for a few moments. But there was a clock on the wall that the old woman had got from her grandmother, which we call a wag-at-the-wall clock. It was tick-tick-tick-ticking past the minutes. And every moment the old man was looking up, watching the clock and watching the minutes passing by. The old woman was very curious why the old man was watching the time so much.

  She said, “Stranger, are ye in a hurry to go somewhere? I see that ye keep watching the clock.”

  “Well,” he says, “I must keep my eyes on the time because my time is very short. I soon have tae be on my way.”

  “Well,” she said, “have you far to go?”

  He said, “Far tae go I have, but it’ll take me a long time tae get there because I don’t travel very fast.”

  And the old woman was very curious about this. She said, “Well, would you have something to eat?”

  “Well,” he said, “I have never had much to eat for a long time. But if you’ve a little tae spare before I go on my way, it would be very kindly accepted.”

  So the old woman went into the back of her little kitchen and she brought out a piece of cheese and a piece of bread and a hard-boiled egg that she had boiled that morning from her own hens. She placed it forward on the table and the old man sat there. He ate it very slowly. He turned round to the old woman. She watched him and he drank his wine. She watched him. And she could see… there was a queer thing happening by him. But he kept watching the clock…

  Because his eyes began to change – gone was the old look from his face, and his eyes began to seem bluer! They were not watery like the eyes of an old man. They were straight and blue-looking like the eyes of a young man. And this upset the old woman. And as she sat there watching him having his
little bite to eat she looked down to his feet. She could see his toes were sticking out from the sandals. But the nails of his toes were not old and yellow like the toes of an old man; the nails of his toes were fresh like the toes of a baby! She never saw his legs because they were covered up by his coat. And the old woman thought this was queer because she had never come in contact with a person like this before. The old woman never knew what time it was; she knew the time by the clock, but she never knew what time it was of the year.

  So, they sat there and they talked. She put more sticks on the fire and asked him would he like more wine? But then, naturally, he would like more wine. She saw that on the side of his face the beard began to disappear. And he sat and talked for a few moments… His cheeks began to come clean and tidy round about where the hair was. And the old woman thought to herself, “What is happening? This man seems tae dissolve before me and become a new person! What kind o’ person can he be?” So she was curious and she wanted to understand.

  She said, “Would you like something more to drink?”

  “Well,” he said, “I really enjoyed that drink.”

  And she walked in to get him another glass of the elderberry wine. It took her about five minutes to get the wine. But when she came back his beard had seemed to be gone and there was just a wee stubble on his chin! And his beautiful blue eyes were shining straight over. And his hair, which was grey and long, began to get short and began to change its colour! And the old woman said to herself, “What in the world… How can a person that has come tae visit me this time of night…” And the old woman did not have one idea what kind of person it was. The old man sat there. But now she could see it was an old man in one way, but it was a young man in another way. And she looked down at his feet once more. She saw his toes were like the toes of children.