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The Gaelic Names of Birds. 65
to-day laugh at l?ritons aiul say that the first thiwg they do wlien
they meet is to tell each other the very best thing thiiy know
viz., what kind of day it is. Now, however ridicuh)us this habit
may be, it, at least, has the merit of antiquity, for it was the very
thing the paitridge and the plover did on this hot, hot day, long,
long ago, so long ago that the birds could then speak to each other
in good Gaelic. So, after they had told each other that it was a
hot day, yes, a very hot day, each recounted its sulltnings. The
plover said it had been nearly stifled with the heat in the close
valley below, and if it could only get to the open hill-top to get the
fresh breeze it would be all right; whilst the partridge said it had
been nearly roasted alive by the glare of the sun on the open hill-
side. So the upshot of the matter was that, as treaties were easier
settled in those days than now, they decided to exchange places
there and then. So the partridge flew downwards and settled
under the shelter of the friendly bushes on the low meadows,
whilst the plover Avinged his way upwards, and only stopped when
he reached the toj) of the highest stone on the cairn, where he sang
a sweet song in praise of the cool breeze always to be found at such
a height. He cared nothing for the heat now, it was quite cool,
and, with an extended view round about, and as everything had
the charm of novelty, he led a haj)py life, and sang sweeter than
ever, all through the sununer and early harvest. But when the
frosty nights began to creep on in October he did not begin to sing
so early in the morning, and always stopped when the sun went
down. When cold November's wintry blasts came on his song
ceased altogether, and he could only give a long shrill whistle, but
dark December's wild storms reduced even that to the low plain-
tive wail with which to this day the golden plover laments his folly
in making such a hasty bargain. He never sang again, but has
been mourning and lamenting ever since ; even though the pai-t-
ridge, taking pity on his woeful condition, and touched by his
mournful lament, afterwards relaxed the bargain so much as to
allow the plover to retiu-n in winter to the low groinid, on condition
that it would kee}) to the sea-f hore, and that the partridge
would be allowed to go as far up the hills as it liked in summer.
Such is the story as I got it— " Ma 's briag bh'uam e 's briag h-ugam
e." From the swift flight of the plover we have the old saying,
" Cho luath ris na feadagan firich"— as swift as the mountain
plover.
Latin
—
DOTTEREL.
Charadrius vioyiiiellus. Gaelic
\Yehh—nuttcm.
—
Amadan- Mointich.
5
—