Tha a’ chuthag subhach, ach faodaidh i naidheachd dhuilich a ghiùlan leatha, co-dhiù a rèir beul-aithris / The cuckoo is a happy bird but can carry sad news, according to Gaelic tradition

Common cuckoo in springtime

An t-Eun Subhach a tha a’ Ro-innse Bàs

Tha seinn na cuthaig air a bhith a’ còrdadh ri daoine air feadh Alba, agus an samhradh oirnn mu dheireadh thall. Tha deagh bheachd againn air a’ chuthaig, agus na Gàidheil dhen bheachd gu bheil i subhach fad na h-ùine. Carson? Uill, bidh i a’ dol eadar blàths Afraga agus blàths (de sheòrsa air choreigin) an t-samhraidh ann an Alba. Seo rann a tha a’ comharrachadh sin:

A chuthag ghorm, a chuthag ghorm,
Tha iongnadh orm, gu dearbh.
Mur eil thu subhach air gach àm,
ʼS an Samhradh leat a’ falbh.
Chan aithne dhuts’ droch shìd’ gu beachd,
No sneachd no Geamhradh garbh,
Gur tha thu ʼn Cèitean ciùin do ghnàth,
ʼS air àghmhorachd an sealbh.

Ge-tà, bhiodh muinntir Hiort dhen bheachd nach nochdadh a’ chuthag anns an eilean aca, ach a-mhàin nam biodh iad airson gnothach mòr a chomharrachadh, leithid nuair a gheibheadh ceann-cinnidh nan Leòdach bàs. Tha an sgrìobhadair is fear-turais, Màrtainn MacIlleMhàrtainn, ag innse dhuinn mu thuras a dh’fhàg soitheach Dùn Bheagain airson innse do na Hiortaich mu bhàs an uachdarain. Ach, nuair a ràinig na Sgitheanaich Hiort, bha na h-eileanaich a’ caoidh an cinn-cinnidh mu-thràth. Bha na cuthagan air nochdadh ann airson innse dhaibh!

Village Bay, Hirta, St Kilda from the slopes of Conachair. Western Isles Area.
©Lorne Gill/SNH

Tha an cunntas seo a’ tighinn ri beul-aithris bhon Eilean Sgitheanach fhèin. Nam faigheadh MacLeòid Dhùn Bheagain bàs ann am mìosan an t-samhraidh, bhathar ag ràdh nach cluinnte guth na cuthaig tuilleadh anns na coilltean timcheall Caisteal Dhùn Bheagain – chan ann air sgàth ’s gun robh na h-eòin air a dhol balbh, ach a chionn ’s gun robh iad air teicheadh a Hiort airson an naidheachd dhuilich innse do na Hiortach!

The Joyful Bird that Foretells Death

Many people around Scotland have been enjoying hearing the call of the cuckoo, that wonderful harbinger of the northern summer. The Gaels view it as a lucky bird because it never knows cold weather, spending its time between the warmth of Africa and the (relative) warmth of a Scottish summer. We have a rhyme that celebrates that (here in translated form, without the rhyme or rhythm of the original):

O blue cuckoo, o blue cuckoo,
I’d be really surprised.
If you aren’t always joyful,
And you leaving when the summer goes.
You don’t know bad weather,
Or snow or rough winter,
For you always have the calm of May,
And inherit pleasant times.

Male cuckoo in flight

However, the people of St Kilda, far to the west of the Western Isles, had a slightly different view of this migratory bird, for they would tell of it being rarely seen there, and only then as a messenger of some great event, such as the death of their landlord, MacLeod of Dunvegan (on Skye). The early 18^th Century traveller and writer, Martin Martin, tells of a boat leaving Dunvegan for St Kilda, bearing news of the clan chief’s death. But when the Skyemen arrived, they found the St Kildans already grieving their loss, for the song of the newly-arrived cuckoo had told them!

The St Kilda street, Hirta, Western Isles Area.
©Lorne Gill/SNH

This account is supported by oral tradition from Skye which maintained that, should a MacLeod chief die in the summer months, the song of the cuckoo would no longer be heard in the woods around Dunvegan Castle – not because the birds fell silent, but because they had all left for St Kilda to tell those distant islanders the sad news!