The Flight of the Golden Bird (9 page)

I would like to tell you a wonderful tale that has been told among the Travelling People of Scotland for many, many years. It is a very religious tale.

Many years ago in the West Highlands there lived a farmer and his wife. They had a large farm on a hill and they were very well off, had everything they desired. But most of all they loved their son John, who had been born to them crippled. He had a short leg and a long one. Sometimes John’s father felt sorry for him and sometimes his mother did, but they never let it show. They loved him dearly. And John loved his parents dearly. Then, lo and behold, the father died! John’s heart was broken. They came with a horse and cart and took him away. John watched his father disappearing over the hillside, a coffin in the cart. He was so upset.

Out to the mountains he crawled among the rocks. And he cried and cried and cried till he couldn’t cry any longer. His mother too was upset. But she came and found John in the rocks in the hills beside the farm.

She put her arm around him and said, “John, you know you are a big man now and you mustn’t cry. Your father’s gone from this place… he’s gone to a better place. He’s gone where someone who is different from us all will love and respect him just like you and I do.” So, she finally consoled him and brought him home. But John was very sad. She said, “Come on, young man, it’s up to you now! You must take care of the place.”

They lived well out in the mountains. The nearest village was four miles away. John used to go there. Sometimes he took
his pony and trap and sometimes he walked – to prove that he could do it.

And when he landed in the village all the children came up and cried, “Cripple John, Cripple John!” But poor John never worried about this. With his short leg and his long leg he went to school. He grew up to be a young man. Years have a way of passing and John was now fourteen years of age.

He said to his mother, “I have finally finished the school.”

“Yes, son,” she said, “you have.” His daddy had been dead now for over five years. She said, “It’s all your place, John, all your home. And some day you won’t even have me to take care of you. I’ll go and join your father some day and this farm is going to be yours.” They had plenty of money and were not poor in any way.

“Yes, Mother,” he said, “I know.”

So, John worked hard around the farm even though he was a cripple. But this one particular time it was coming near Christmas. And they always celebrated Christmas in the farmhouse. He had done it with his daddy since he was a child. And even if his daddy had gone and passed on, he’d celebrated it for his mother. But John had been so busy working taking care of the sheep and the cattle and doing other things, he’d forgotten, and he’d never bought his mother a present.

He came in for his dinner one day and she said, “John, it will soon be Christmas.”

“Mother?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, “in another two days it will be Christmas. And we’re going to have a lovely time both you and me.” (They were cut off far in the hills away from everybody else.)

“But, Mother,” he said, “I never got you a Christmas present! My father used to always get you one when he went to market. He made sure he had it in advance for you.”

“Och, never mind, John,” she said. “Never mind, son!”

“Mother,” he said, “look, it’s not Christmas without a present!”

So, this bothered his mind all night. When he woke up in the morning he had only one thing on his mind: he’d go to the village four miles away and get his mother something for Christmas. He had his breakfast, took care of the stock and got ready to go. She tried to tell him no to because it was a dull day and the sky was cast. The clouds were coming in low.

“John, please, forget about a present for me!” she said. “It’s going to be a terrible day. I think we’re going to get snow.”

“Mother,” he said, “I don’t care if it’s going to be snow or hail or rain! I am going – I must!” And he had plenty of money. He knew he could buy anything he wanted in the village for his mother.

John had a pony and trap, but this particular day he preferred to walk because the sun was shining even though the sky was cast. He walked on his way cheerfully. But he had gone barely a mile when it started to snow. And it snowed! It came down heavy, heavier and heavier. John cold barely see where he was going. But he struggled on his way towards the village. He knew the direction to go. But the snow came fast and deep. His mother had warned him but he still had this ambition in his mind: he must go and get a present for her. Now John was lame. But he struggled on. He had a few miles to go. And he knew if he reached the village he would manage somehow to make his way back. But the snow really did come down. Till John was completely exhausted; he couldn’t go another step.

He sat down and said, “I’ll never get to the village today. There’s no way I’m going to get a present to my mother.”

He felt very sad and wished from his heart he could walk on. But he couldn’t see his finger in front of him for snow. The flakes were as big as a two-and-six-penny piece, as the old Travelling folk would say. John knew in his own mind he would have to turn back. He was lucky if he would make his way home!

Then he said, “I’m going to die here, I’m going to perish!”

Lo and behold, he had sat for ten or fifteen minutes when he saw someone coming walking to meet him.

He said to himself, “Who can this be in this storm? Who can this be? It’s not someone from the village. There’s no one due up here. No one is coming to walk at this time in a snow storm from the village.”

Then a tall stranger leading a donkey walked right up. He stopped beside John, who was sitting among the snow, soaking wet, crippled and completely exhausted. And John was amazed. He had never seen anybody in the village that looked like this. He knew all the farmers; he knew all the crofters, all the shepherds. But he’d never known this stranger who came with a donkey through the storm.

When he came to John he said, “Hello, friend! What’s the trouble?”

And John said, “Sir, excuse me, I’m bound for the village.”

“And why,” said the stranger, “are you bound for the village in a storm of snow? Have you not some place to stay? Have you not a home?”

“I have a home,” says John. “I have a home. I have a lovely home with my mother. We live two miles from here on the hillside. But I am bound for the village to find a present for my mother.”

“A present?” says the stranger. “Why should you make your way in a storm to buy a present? I can see that you are a cripple.”

“Yes,” says John. “I was born with a short leg and a long one. And I have struggled for nearly half this day through the snow. I’m making my way to the village.”

The stranger says, “Well, my little friend, you won’t make your way this day. Because I came from the village and it just took me to get through!”

John looked closely at the stranger with the long beard and the long golden hair. And he said, “Please, help me to get to the village!”

“Not today,” he said. “But I’ll help you to get to your home.”

“But,” John said, “I cannot go home. It’s Christmas and for my mother – I’m wanting a present!”

“Well,” said the stranger, “everyone loves Christmas. But it’s better to go home to your mother than die in the snow. Come now, let me take you home and forget about Christmas. If it’s a present that’s troubling you, look, come with me. I’m sure I can find one for your mother.”

And John looked. The stranger had nothing on him but a cloak. He was a tall man with golden hair and a long beautiful golden beard, leading a donkey. And John saw that the donkey had nothing on it, not even a saddle. Just a bridle. He was leading it through the snow.

“But where are you bound for, Stranger?” John said.

“Oh,” he said, “I’m bound for any place! One place is as good as another. But please come with me. Let me take you home to your mother.”

So, the stranger picked up John as if he were just a leaf or a feather and he placed John on the donkey’s back. He led him as if he knew where he was going. The snow didn’t seem to bother him. He just walked on and on through the blizzard while Cripple John sat on the donkey’s back. The snow didn’t seem to have any effect on him. He walked as if he were walking on a marble causeway. At last, after a long time, they came to the door of his mother’s house. John’s mother heard the hoof beats of the donkey and thought it was John had come home. She opened the door.

When she saw the stranger with her son on the donkey she rushed out – said, “Stranger, is he, is he hurt? Is there something wrong with my son?” She was very upset.

“No, my dear,” said the stranger, “there’s nothing wrong with your son. I found him along the way. He was bound for the village.”

“I told him, I told him,” said John’s mother, “not to go in a storm! It’s lucky… thank you, thank you, Stranger, for bringing him home! Won’t you come into the house and I can give you something warm to drink?”

“No, my dear, I don’t want anything warm to drink,” he said. But he walked round and lifted Cripple John off the donkey’s back, put him down on the ground. “Now, my little friend, he said, you are home at last.”

“Please,” said the widow-woman, “please, come in, Stranger. You don’t know what you’ve done for me. You have brought my son back to me who’d probably have perished in the snow.”

“All right,” said the stranger, “just for a few moments.”

Cripple John walked into the kitchen, brushed the snow from himself. He was tired and exhausted. He sat down in a chair next to the warm kitchen fire. The stranger walked in and sat down too. Outside the donkey stood as if it were made of marble. Never moved. John’s mother hustled and bustled round the place. She couldn’t do enough for the stranger.

She said, “Stranger, I was worried about my son going to the village.”

And John seemed so upset. He said, “I never got there, Mother, I never reached the village. Mother, I never got you a present.”

And then the stranger walked up and put his hand on John’s head. “Don’t worry,” he says, “little one! Your mother will have a present.”

The widow-woman says, “Look, presents don’t mean very much to me. All I’m worried about... my son is home safe. He’s safe with me tonight thanks to you, Stranger.”

He says, “Don’t thank me! I’m only doing what I’m supposed to do. But, John,” he says, “if you’re so upset I’ll give your mother something for Christmas.”

And he took from round his neck under his cloak a chain and a cross. He held it up and it sparkled in the light.

The widow-woman rubbed her eyes and said, “Such a beautiful thing!”

And John said, “Such a wonderful thing!”

The Stranger walked over to the widow-woman and he placed it around her neck. “This is a present for you,” he said, “which’ll do you for Christmas. And don’t let John worry about another. I am not giving it from me; I’m giving it from John. He was a person who went in the snow and did the most daring thing that anyone could ever do, to prove that he really loved his mother – even though he never made it.”

Then he came and put his hand on John’s head. “Little one,” he said, “I must be on my way.”

The widow-woman loved this sparkling cross on a chain round her neck. She says, “This is the most wonderful present anyone could ever give me.”

“Please,” said John, “please stay, Stranger. Stay for a moment! Have something to eat and something to drink.”

“I need nothing to eat. I need nothing to drink,” said the stranger. “I cannot stay.” And the stranger walked out the door.

The woman came and put her arm around her little son. “John, isn’t it wonderful?” she said. “Even you couldn’t have bought this for me, something I’ve wanted all my life. Something like this.”

He says, “Mother, I’ve seen that stranger some place before.”

“Yes, John,” she says, “so have I.”

Now the stranger had walked out the door, closed it behind him, taken his donkey and disappeared in the snow.

“Mother,” John said, “I’ve seen that face somewhere. I’ve seen that hair and I’ve seen that beard, Mother. Not in a dream, Mother!”

And his mother looked at the crucifix hanging around her neck. It was sparkling and shining.

“Yes, John,” she says, “so have I.”

“But, where, Mother, where?” he says. “Where have we seen this?”

“Come with me, my little boy, my son, and I’ll show you.” She says, “You know this is Christmas Eve?”

“Mother,” he said, “yes, it is Christmas Eve... Have we lost a day?”

“No,” she said, “son, you left this morning. And the stranger brought you home. But come with me, come, John!” And she led him into his bedroom. “John, look, there’s your stranger!”

And John looked up – there was the picture his father had placed above his bed when he was just a baby. Smiling looking down was a picture of Jesus Christ.

“That’s the person, Mother,” he said, “who would come today!”

The widow wiped tears from her eyes. She put her hand on her young cripple son and said, “Look, son, we have been privileged to meet
the one and only
! I hope in the future that many people will again.”

And that is the end of my story.

The old collie dog was tired as he lay beside his master on the hillside that lovely moonlit night. His master was a shepherd who watched the sheep all night through to take care of them, because in these days long, long ago there were many wolves and foxes. The shepherd had two young dogs he’d reared up and kept along with the old collie, but he loved and respected his old collie most because he’d had it for many, many years. So, they sat on the hillside and the moon rose higher; it was beautiful and the stars were shining.

The shepherd turned round and said to the collie, “Old fellow, you must be tired. You ran a lot this morning, more than you should have, and you know you’re getting old now. I’m sure there’s no use the four of us sitting here. Why don’t you go home and go in the byre, sleep among the hay for the night? It’ll make you fresh for tomorrow. Me and your young offspring here will take care of the sheep.”

The old collie dog sat up, his tongue hanging out, and he looked at his master. He understood the language all right. When the master said, “Go home, old friend,” he knew the meaning perfectly.

He thought to himself, “My master doesn’t need me this night so I’ll go home.” He really was tired.

So, the old dog trotted back to the small steadings and the farm where he lived. He curled up in the byre among the hay and straw that had been placed in the stalls. And his old friend the donkey came in from the cold; he was a free agent who wandered around the farm to his heart’s content. And the collie
couldn’t remember when he’d ever seen the place without the donkey. The donkey walked into one of the stalls and started chewing on the hay or straw or whatever was left out. The collie curled up to go to sleep. He heard his friend the donkey chewing, chewing, chewing on and on and on.

Then a little later he heard voices coming through the doorway. He wondered, “Is that my master coming home?”

And he looked out. It was still dark but the moon was shining clear. He thought to himself, “It can’t be my master. It’s not his time yet. He always comes home by daylight when the sheep’ll be safe, because no predators or any kind of wild animals will disturb them during the day.”

So, he was wide awake and sitting in the stall, one down from the donkey, when lo and behold, who should walk to the stall beside him but a woman! A young beautiful woman and a man with a beard. The collie had never seen these people before and he wondered who they were. He said to himself, “They must be strangers seeking their lodgings for the night.”

So, the dog curled back; he never said a yelp, never said a bark. He watched them; the man took his wife by the hand and led her into the empty stall that had little straw in it. And there was a manger above them for holding the hay for feeding the cattle, but there were no cattle in the byre this night. The dog sat and he listened. He heard the man talking and he knew well what they were saying.

The man said, “This is where we’ll stay. We shall find shelter here for the night.” He looked around. “It’s only a dog and a donkey and I’m sure they won’t disturb us.” He said, “Are you all right, my dear?”

“Well,” she says, “I don’t feel very well.”

And the man rakes up the hay, he places it, makes a little bed. He says, “I’m sure… will it happen tonight?”

She says, “I think it will happen in moments.”

The collie dog he’s sitting there. The donkey stops chewing his hay and all is quiet.

And then lo and behold the man says, “Are you needing any help?”

“No,” she says, “I’ll manage myself. Just you stand there at the stall entrance and see that I have a little privacy for a few moments.”

And the man stands there… he walks back and forward. And the dog lies, he never says a word but he hears everything that is going on. Lo and behold the next thing the dog hears is the crying of a little baby… a little baby cried.

And the dog said to himself, “This woman, this human being, must be giving birth to a baby right here beside us in the stall! I have never seen this before.”

And he crawled slowly round a wee bit closer; he keeked round the stall. Lo and behold the woman was holding up the most beautiful little baby that you ever saw. It had long dark golden hair. It was wet. And the husband ran in. He pulled off his covering of cloth, his cloak; he told her, “Use this!” And his wife wrapped the baby in it.

She said, “He’s a wonderful child.”

Then the husband said, “We need some place to put him for a wee while.”

And she said, “Put some straw in the manger just above where I lie and put him there for a few moments.”

The husband shook the straw along the manger and he took this little baby wrapped in his own cloth. He stood naked to the waist and he put him up in the manger.

And the old collie dog he was keeking round the stall. He saw the most beautiful thing he ever saw in his life: he saw a star shining through the window. The star seemed to come closer and closer and closer – till it shone right above the window. The dog had never seen this before and he wondered why such a
star had come so close… his thoughts were on his master in the hillside. He wondered if his master would be disturbed by this same shining star. But then his thoughts changed. He heard the man and the woman talking.

The man said, “Look, we must stay here for the night. But we must find better shelter for our child tomorrow. I’m sure he will be all right, though; nothing’s going to happen to him. He’s a lovely child!”

The old dog sat and listened to all they said. And the child never made a sound. Finally the talking stopped and the dog fell asleep. But he wakened early in the morning when he heard a disturbance next to the stall where he lay. This was the man and his wife getting up and taking the child from the manger.

And the man says, “I must go to the village to find some help for you. There must be someone there who’ll give you help.”

She says, “I feel well, husband, I feel fine, lovely.”

He says, “I know you feel lovely but I must find some help for you and the child.”

She says, “Husband, it’s a long way to the village. We passed it through and they wouldn’t give us any shelter and that’s why we ended up here.”

He says, “We’ll go back with the baby, and when they see the baby they’ll probably give us shelter.”

“But,” she says, “husband, I’m too weak. I can’t walk.”

“Oh,” he says, “don’t worry, my dear, don’t worry. You’ll no need to walk; there’s a little donkey here and I’m sure the farmer won’t mind if I borrow it for a few hours to take you to the village.”

So, the man walked in and took a rope, a halter from the wall. He put it on the donkey’s head – but no saddle or bridle or anything. He lifted his wife up and placed her on the donkey’s back. He went to the manger and picked out the wee child, put him in her arms.

And the old collie’s sitting watching this. He wonders and he wonders, wonders… if his master knew about this… what a story he could tell if only he could speak to him! Then daylight came and the man with the beard, with not a stitch on his body because his cloak was wrapped round the baby, walked out the doorway leading the donkey with the woman and the child. And he walked away. The collie had never seen anything like this before in his life. He wondered, would he ever see his old friend the donkey again? But he loved that little child and he wished he had seen him closer. He crawled up in the straw and fell asleep.

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.