SUPERSTITIONS ABOUT ANIMALS.
_Buarach-bhaoi, lamprey._—The _Buarach-bhaoi_ (lit. wild or wizard
shackle), called also _Buarach na Baoi_ (the shackle of the furious
one), was believed to be a leech or eel-like animal to be found at
certain fords and in dark waters, that twisted itself like a shackle
round the feet of passing horses, so that they fell and were drowned.
It then sucked their blood. It had nine eyes or holes in its head
and back, at which the blood it sucked came out. Hence it was called
_Buarach-bhaoi nan sùilean claon_ (the furious shackle of the squinting
eyes). In Skye, it was believed the animal was to be found in Badenoch.
It was said to haunt the dark waters of Loch Tummel (_Tethuil_, hot
flood, from the impetuosity of the river), in Perthshire, and was
also known on the west coast of Argyllshire. The word is translated
‘lamprey’ in dictionaries, but the description suggests the tradition
of some species of gymnotus or electric eel.
_Cirein Cròin, Sea Serpent._—This was the largest animal in the world,
as may be inferred from a popular Caithness rhyme:
“Seven herring are a salmon’s fill,
Seven salmon are a seal’s fill,
Seven seals are a whale’s fill,
And seven whales the fill of a Cirein Cròin.”
To this is sometimes added, “seven Cirein Cròin are the fill of the
big devil himself.” This immense sea-animal is also called _Mial mhòr
a chuain_, the great beast of the ocean, _cuartag mhòr a chuain_, the
great whirlpool of the ocean, and _uile-bhéisd a chuain_, the monster
of the ocean. It was originally a whirlpool, or the sea-snake of the
Edda, that encircled the whole world.
_Gigelorum._—The _Giolcam-daoram_, or Gigelorum, is the smallest of all
animals. It makes its nest in the mite’s ear and that is all that is
known about it.
_Lavellan._—This animal is peculiar to the north, where it is said
to be able to hurt cattle from a distance of forty yards: “Lavellan,
animal in Cathanesia frequens, in aquis degit, capite mustelae
sylvestri simile, ejusdemque coloris, bestia est. Halitu Bestiis nocet.
Remedium autem est, si de aqua bibant in quâ ejus caput coctum est.”
(Sibbald’s _Scot. Ill._, lib. 3, fol. 11.) Pennant, when at Ausdale,
Langwell, Caithness-shire, says: “I inquired here after the Lavellan,
which, from description, I suspect to be the water shrew mouse.
The country people have a notion that it is noxious to cattle; they
preserve the skin, and, as a cure for their sick beasts, give them the
water in which it has been dipt. I believe it to be the same animal
which, in Sutherland, is called the water mole.” It is also mentioned
by Rob Donn, the Sutherland bard, in his satirical song on “Mac Rorie’s
Breeches”: “Let him not go away from the houses, to moss or wood, lest
the Lavellan come and smite him.”
_Bernicle Goose, Cadhan._—In the Hebrides, as in England, the Bernicle
Goose was believed to grow from the thoracic worm, attaching itself to
floating wood that has been some time in the water, often so closely as
to hide the surface of the log. _Calum na Cròige_, a native of Croig in
Mull, who went about the country some thirty or forty years ago, the
delight of youngsters by his extraordinary tales of personal adventures
and of wonders he had seen, and the energy with which, sitting astride
on a stool, he raised with their assistance the anchor, hoisted sail,
and performed other nautical feats, told that in the Indian seas,
he and a comrade jumped overboard to swim to land. They swam for a
week before reaching shore, but the water was so warm they felt no
inconvenience. The loveliest music Calum ever heard was that made by
Bernicle Geese as they emerged from barnacles that grew on the soles of
his feet!
_Eels (Easgunn)._—It is still a very common belief in the Highlands
that eels grow from horse hairs. In a village of advanced opinions in
Argyllshire, the following story was heard from a person who evidently
believed it:
“In the island of Harris, in a time of scarcity, a person went out for
fish, and succeeded only in getting eels. These animals are not eaten
in the Highlands and his wife would not taste them. The man himself ate
several. By and by he went mad, and his wife had to go for succour to
a party of Englishmen, who had a shooting lodge near. On arriving with
loaded guns, the sportsmen found the eel-eater in the fields fighting
a horse. He was so violent that they had to shoot him. On inquiry it
turned out that the cause of his madness and fighting the horse was
that the eels he had eaten had grown from horse hairs!”
_Whale._—The round-headed porpoises, or caaing whales (_mucun
bearraich_, lit. dog-fish pigs), derive their Gaelic name from being
supposed to grow from dog-fish. An overgrown dog-fish, still retaining
its own shape, is called _Burraghlas_.
_Herring._—The food of the Herring is said to consist of crustacea and
small fishes, but there is ordinarily so little appearance of food in
their stomach that an easier explanation has been found in saying,
they live on the foam they make with their own tails! A door-keeper
at Dowart Castle is said to have successfully warned a M‘Kinnon from
Skye of the dangers awaiting him at the banquet to which he had been
invited, by asking him if they were getting any herring in the north
at present, and then praising the herring as a royal fish (_iasg righ_)
that never was caught by its mouthful of food or drink (_air a bhalgum
no air a ghreim_). On hearing this remark M‘Kinnon turned on his heel
and made his escape.
_Flounder._—According to Sutherland tradition, the wry mouth of the
flounders (_Leòbag_, as it is called in the north) arose from its
making faces at the rock-cod. A judgment (which children, who make
faces, are liable to) came upon it, and its mouth remains as it then
twisted it. In Tiree and Iona the distortion is said to have been
caused by St. Columba. Colum-Kil met a shoal of flounders and asked:
“Is this a removal, flounder?”
“Yes it is, Colum-Kil crooked legs,” said the flounder.
“If I have crooked legs,” said St. Columba, “may you have a crooked
mouth,” and so the flounder has a wry mouth to this day.
_Lobster._—The three animals that dart quickest and farthest in
the sea, according to a popular and perhaps truthful rhyme, are
the lobster, mackerel, and seal. “The dart of lobster, the dart of
mackerel, and the dart of seal; and though far the lobster’s dart,
farther is the mackerel’s dart, and though far the mackerel’s dart,
farther is the seal’s dart.”
_Serpents._—A serpent, whenever encountered, ought to be killed.
Otherwise, the encounter will prove an omen of evil. The head should
be completely smashed (_air a spleatradh_), and removed to a distance
from the rest of the body. Unless this is done, the serpent will again
come alive. The tail, unless deprived of animation, will join the body,
and the head becomes a _beithis_, the largest and most deadly kind of
serpent.[63] A person stung by one should rush to the nearest water.
Unless he reaches it before the serpent, which also makes straight for
it, he will die from the wound.
Another cure for the sting is water in which the head of another
serpent has been put. There was a man in Applecross who cured epilepsy
by water in which he kept a living serpent. The patient was not to see
the water. Farquhar, the physician, obtained his skill in the healing
art from being the first to taste the juice of a white serpent. He was
a native of Tongue, in Sutherlandshire, and on one occasion was met by
a stranger, who asked him where he got the walking-stick he held in his
hand. The stranger further got him to go to the root of the tree from
which the stick had been cut, take a white serpent from a hole at its
foot and boil it. He was to give the juice without touching it to the
stranger. Farquhar happened to touch the mess with his finger, and it
being very hot, he thrust his finger in his mouth. From that moment he
acquired his unrivalled skill as a physician, and the juice lost its
virtue.
A week previous to St. Bridget’s Day (1st February, O.S.) the serpents
are obliged to leave their holes under ground, and if the ground is
then covered with snow they perish. In the popular rhyme relating to
the subject the serpent in Argyllshire and Perthshire is called the
‘daughter of Edward,’ but in Skye _an rìbhinn_, the damsel. In both
cases the name is probably a mere euphemism suggested by the rhyme to
avoid giving unnecessary offence to the venomous creature.
_Rats and Mice._—When a place is infested to a troublesome extent with
rats or mice, and all other means of getting rid of the pests have
failed, the object can be accomplished by composing a song, advising
them to go away, telling them where to go, and what road to take, the
danger awaiting them where they are, and the plenty awaiting them in
their new quarters. This song is called the Rat (or Mouse) Satire, and
if well composed the vermin forthwith take their departure.
When the islet of Calv (_an Calbh_, the inner door), which lies across
the mouth of Tobermory harbour, was let in small holdings, the rats
at one time became so numerous that the tenants subscribed sixpence
a-piece, and sent for _Iain Pholchrain_ to Morven, to come and
satirize the rats away. He came and made a long ode, in which he told
the rats to go away peaceably, and take care not to lose themselves
in the wood. He told them what houses to call at, and what houses
(those of the bard’s own friends) to avoid, and the plenty and welcome
stores—butter and cheese, and meal—to be got at their destination. It
is said that after this there was an observable decrease in the number
of rats in the island!
An Ardnamurchan man, pestered with mice, in strong language tried to
get them away, and all who have had experience of the annoyance, will
heartily join him in his wishes. The poet, with whips and switches,
gathers the mice in a meadow near a stream, and sends a number of the
drollest characters in the district to herd them, and ‘old men, strong
men, striplings, and honest matronly women, with potato beetles,’ to
chase them. At last he gets them on board a boat at _Eabar an ròin_,
and sends them to sea.
“The sea roaring boisterously,
The ocean heaving and weltering,
The tearing sound of sails splitting,
The creaking of the keel breaking,
The bilge water through the hull splashing
Like an old horse neighing.”
And leaving them in this evil plight, the song ceases.
_Cormorant._—This bird passes through three stages of existence; it is
“seven years a scart (_pelecanus cristatus_), seven years a speckled
loon (_colymbus arcticus_), and seven years a cormorant (_pelecanus
carbo_)” (_Seachd bliadhna na sgarbh, seachd bliadhna na learg, ’s
seachd bliadhna na bhallaire bodhain_).
_Magpie._—The pyet (_piaghaid_) is called ‘the messenger of the
Campbells’ (_Gille ruith nan Caimbeulach_), a name also given (for what
reason the writer has not been able to ascertain) to a person who is
‘garrulous, lying, interfering with everbody’ (_gobach, briagach, ’g
obair air na h-uile duine_). It is said of a meddling chatterbox, “What
a messenger of the Campbells you have become!” It is ‘little happiness’
(_beagan sonais_) for any one to kill a magpie.
_Beetles._—The _Ceardalan_ or dung-beetle is spared by boys when met
with, but the _daolag_ or clock is mercilessly killed. The reason
assigned is, that when the former met those who came to seize the
person of our Saviour, and was asked how long since he had passed, it
said, “twenty days ago yesterday” (_fhichead latha gus an dé, chaidh
Mac Dhé seachad_), but the latter said, “it was only yesterday” (_an
dé, an dé chaidh Mac Dhé seachad_). Hence, when boys hammer the life
out of a ‘clock,’ they keep repeating with savage unction, “The day
before yesterday, wretch” (_air a bhò ’n dé, bhradag_), or a rhyme:
“Remember yesterday, yesterday,
Remember yesterday, wretch,
Remember yesterday, yesterday,
That let not the Son of God pass.”
_Emmet (Caora-Chòsag)._—This animal is shaken between the palms of the
hand and laid upon the table. It is believed by boys to indicate the
weather of the following day, by lighting on its back or belly and the
alacrity with which it moves away.
_Skip-Jack._—This insect (_Gobhachan_, _i.e._ little smith or _Buail
a Chnag_, give a knock), when laid on its back emits a loud crack in
springing to its proper position. It is a favourite amusement of boys
when they get hold of one to make it go through this performance. In
Skye, when watching it preparing to skip, they say,
“Strike with your hammer, little smith.
Or I will strike your head.”[64]