THE STABLE AND byre at Linmill were on opposite sides ο the closs mou, and ilk had a winnock that lookit oot on the closs, but there was a corn kist at the stable winnock, wi a slopin lid that was ower steep to sit on, sae if ye wantit to sit and look oot into the closs ye had to gang to the byre, whaur there was a sait ablow the winnock for the daft men, whaur they could bide efter lowsin-time till they had to gang inbye to bed.
The byre could haud ten kye, and whiles it was fou, for my grandfaither whiles brocht on young beasts if he had mony parks in hey, but for ordinar there was juist the ae cou, for milk and butter for the hoose.
If the byre was tuim in the winter ae end ο it was aye piled wi fire-wuid, for in the back end, efter the weedin was bye, my grandfaither wad cut doun ane ο the auld beeches aside Clyde, to let licht into the strawberries, and it was poued up to Linmill by the fower horses, and sawn in the closs, and the muckle logs cairrit into the byre by the daft men to be split wi the big aix whan wark was slack in bad wather.
On my Christmas holiday I used to gang to the byre to sit on the sait at the winnock, whiles to watch my grandfaither or Joe the Pole swingin the big aix, and whiles, if aa the men were thrang somewhaur else, juist to look oot into the closs.
I was sittin ae efternune aa alane, for the men were oot on the Clyde road wi the snaw-plew, and I hadna been alloued to gang, for I had been oot wi them in the forenune and gotten soakit to the skin, and my grannie said she wad hae nae mair claes ο mine to dry in the beyler-hoose, there was haurdly room for anither steik. I had gane to the beyler-hoose, thinkin to sit at the warm beyler fire, but the steam in the place was past tholin, sae I had to be content wi the byre.
There was deep snaw in the closs, save whaur the snaw- plew had been driven frae the cairt shed to the closs mou on its wey oot, and in the snaw there were futemarks, ae lot atween the back entry and the hen-hoose, anither atween the back entry and the milk-hoose, and anither atween the milk-hoose and the barn. Ye could tell aa that had gane on that day juist by lookin at the futemarks.
Some ane gaun to the hen-hoose, Daft Sanny mebbe, had skailed some corn in the snaw juist fornent the byre winnock, and there were dizzens ο birds at it, speuggies and shuilfies and a blackie or twa, and ae wee robin. I dinna ken what cam ower me, for I suld hae kent better, but the mair I watchit the robin the mair I wantit to catch it, no to hairm it, but juist to haud it in my haund.
I wadna hae thocht ο it, mebbe, gin it hadna been that juist a wheen days afore I had been telt by my cuisin Jockie, that if ye pat doun some corn, and syne set a riddle ower it, wi ae end ο the riddle restin on a bit ο stick wi a lang string tied to it, ye could hide somewhaur oot ο sicht wi the string in yer haund till birds cam to the corn, syne pou the string, and the riddle wad tummle on the birds and trap them.
I couldna ask my grandfaither for the lend ο a riddle, for he wadna be back till daurk, and I didna want to gang near my grannie again, for she was in a bad tid, sae I juist gaed to the stable without a word to onybody. I kent there was a riddle there, for my grandfaither used it to shake dirt oot ο the locusts, that the horses ate wi their trecle.
I fand the riddle aa richt, then stertit to look for a lang bit ο string. There was nane in the stable or the byre, but I kent there were big round rolls ο it in the barn, whaur it was used for dernin up bags whan they were filled wi tatties.
I gaed into the closs mou and listened for a while. There was nae steer at the back entry. I slippit across the closs to the barn door, usin the auld futemarks.
It was gey daurk in the barn, but I fand the string near the door, and it cam ower me aa at ance that I had nae knife to cut it wi. I wasna bate, though, for there were a wheen heuks in the barn, and I used ane ο them.
I slippit back to the byre again, and fand a bit ο stick, and in a wee while I was ready for the trappin. I set the riddle ower the corn Daft Sanny had skailed in the snaw, and efter a while managed to balance ae end ο it on my bit ο stick, syne took the end ο the string to the byre winnock. The fute ο the winnock had wuiden shutters insteid ο gless, and I opent ane ο them and pat the string end through. Syne I gaed into the byre and sat doun on the sait, wi the string in my haund, ready to pou it if the robin hoppit into my trap.
For a lang time nae birds gaed near it, and I was beginning to think my cuisin Jockie was a leear, and the birds had faur mair sense than he thocht. But in the end alang cam a speuggie, and syne anither, and afore lang there were aboot hauf a dizzen, aa peckin at the corn aneth the riddle, and I could hae catchit them wi nae bother by juist pouin the string.
I began to think they wad hae aa the corn peckit afore the robin cam near.
But syne cam a shuilfie, and I grew hairtent again. Shairly if a shuilfie could come, a robin micht tae.
But nae robin cam for a while yet, though there were three shuilfies by nou, ane ο them a bonnie cock. I thocht that if the warst cam to the warst I could be content wi the cock shuilfie, but nae suner had I thocht it than the cock flew awa.
There was gey little corn left, I was shair, and I had juist made up my mind then that a hen shuilfie wad dae me, whan doun flew the robin aff the hen-hoose rufe.
It hoppit for a while aa roun the riddle, gey cannie, and keepit cockin its heid frae ae side to the ither, watchin for cats, mebbe, or mebbe for folk, but I sat as still as daith and it didna see me.
In the end it hoppit in aneth the riddle, and my hairt gied a lowp. I poued the string and naething happened. It was ower slack. I drew in the slack and poued again. The stick cam awa and the riddle tummlet, and a bird or twa flew awa wi a frichtent chacker, but whether the robin was wi that lot, or trappit in the riddle, I didna ken.
I gaed oot into the closs and had a look. There were three birds in the riddle, twa wee speuggies, flutter in like mad, and the robin. But the robin was hurt. The edge ο the riddle had come doun on its wing.
I felt a richt bruit, I can tell ye, but it was ower late nou to think ο lettin the puir thing gang. Wi its wing hurt it wadna be able to flee, and a cat wad get it, or a hoodie craw. I wad hae to keep it for a while, and feed it, till its wing was better.
But I hadna gotten it oot ο the riddle yet.
It was a problem, for I kent that if I liftit the thing the birds wad juist scatter. I didna care about the wee speuggies, and I kent that the robin culdna win faur, but for aa that I was keen to grip it in case it micht win somewhaur oot ο my reach, into a corner ο the cairt shed, mebbe, ahint some graith, whaur a cat could win at it, but no me.
I made up my mind to lift the riddle wi ae haund, and grip the robin wi the ither, but I was sae feart to hurt it that I began to trummle, and couldna lippen to my haund.
I sat for a wee on my hunkers to try and steady mysell, but the mair I thocht ο hurtin the robin the mair nervous I grew, and I began to wish my grandfaither was there to help me.
But the speuggies were in sic a panic, and the wee robin was lyin sae twistit and quait, wi its een shut ticht and its beak wide open, that I kent I wad hae to dae something sune.
I slippit my richt haund alang the riddle edge to whaur it lay on the robin, wi my fingers spread oot ready to grab, and grippit the riddle wi my left.
I sat for a while makin up my mind, wi my hairt fair thumpin, syne breinged at the job ower hard.
The riddle flew awa to the byre waa, and the two speuggies scattert in the snaw, and my richt haund fastent on the robin.
I didna grip it richt, though, for I had its bad wing atween my pinkie and my third finger, and I was shair by the wey it clawed me with its lang peyntit taes, and skreched wi its beak wide open, that I was hurtin it.
I didna drap it, though. I cheynged it to my left haund, makin shair I had its twa wings lyin close alang its sides, and held it wi its heid stickin oot atween my thoom and my first finger, and in a wee while it fastent its taes roun my pinkie, and lay content. Its een were still shut, but its hairt was gaun a dinger, and I kent there was life in it yet.
I wonert whaur I could pit it.
I had seen cages for birds at the Hannah’s in Linville, for ane ο the Hannah halflins used to catch linties wi bird lime and keep them in cages till they were weill eneuch used to them to sing, and syne he selt them. I had whiles wantit to hae a cage wi a lintie, but my grannie wadna hear ο it. She had aye said it was hairtless, keepin birds in cages. Sae there were nae cages at Linmill.
I thocht mebbe a box wad dae, but I was feart to gang to my grannie wi a robin and ask for ane, for I kent she wad be mad wi me for hurtin the craitur, and I was fair at my wit’s end, and wishin hard for my grandfaither, whan I thocht ο the clocker’s caivie.
The caivie was used ilka spring, on the green fornent the hoose front door. As sune as a hen stertit clockin my grannie pat it into a coop wi a wheen cheenie eggs in it, and if it took to them she sent my grandfaither oot efter daurk, wi a kleckin ο rale eggs in a basket, to slip his haund aneth the hen and tak the cheenie eggs awa, ane at a time, pittin the rale eggs in their place. In the mornin, afore the hen was alloued oot for its corn and watter, the caivie was laid against the front ο the coop, to keep the hen frae wanerin aff and lettin the eggs get cauld. It bade there till efter the hen had kecklet, to keep the chicks frae wanerin tae, and the wire nettin it was made ο was gey smaa in the mesh. I thocht it wad haud my robin.
In the winter the caivie wad be somewhaur in the cairt shed, sae I gaed there to look.
I fand it at last, laid against the bumper, and had a gey job settlin it flat on the grun, for I had juist the ae haund I could use, and the meenit I exertit mysell to move the caivie I fand mysell grippin the robin ower ticht, and it dug its taes into my pinkie.
I gat the caivie on the grun, though, and warkit some dirt roun the edges wi my shune, to mak shair that the robin couldna slip oot ablow them, but there was still the open end to contend wi. In the end I fand the coop, and drew it up fornent the caivie, though it took aa my strength, and I squeezed the wee robin again. But the job was dune. There were twa wee cleiks to haud the coop and the caivie thegither, and whan they were baith fastent there was nae wey oot.
There was a wee lid on the tap ο the caivie, that my grannie used whan she gaed to feed the clocker, and I opent this and held the robin weill doun. Syne I opent my haund and let it gang.
I was sae feart it micht win oot through the lid that I drew awa my haund ower quick, and the puir thing fell on the grun. It lay for a while as if deid, but whan I was leanin ower to fasten the lid I banged a fute against the wire nettin, and it gaed into a panic, flappin its ae guid wing, and spinnin like a peerie in the dirt, puir thing, till it was ower tired to move ony mair.
I had a job to keep frae greitin, but I could see it wasna deid, and I determined that as lang as there was life in it I wad try to save it. Sae I ran to the back entry and stude listenin. There was nae soond in the haill hoose. I slippit into the scullery and took a scone frae the breid crock. Syne I took a saucer frae the bunker and filled it wi watter in the back entry, frae ane ο the pails, and gaed awa back to the caivie.
The wee robin had moved. It was couryin in a corner, still as daith, but when I opent the lid to lay doun the saucer and scatter some crumbs ο the scone, it opent ae ee wide, as if to see whit was whaat.
I began to think it micht come roun yet, but I couldna wait ony langer, for I could hear frae the steer at the closs mou yett that the horses were back wi the snaw- plew.
I was watchin my grandfaither lowsin the harness whan my grannie cried me in for my tea.
I sat and said naething, wonerin what I could tell her gin she askit me what I had been daein, but she gaed on aboot the snaw, and what a nuisance it was, till the daft men cam in for their tea at the side table.
Syne my grandfaither cam in frae the stable, and the first words he said gart me bite my tongue.
‘What’s that riddle daein at the byre winnock? I left it in the stable.’
‘I haena touched yer riddle,’ said my grannie.
My grandfaither turnt to me.
‘Were you playin wi the riddle, Rab?’
‘Ay.’
‘Ye micht hae putten it back then.’
‘I’ll pit it back efter my tea.’
‘Ye’re ower late. I pat it back mysell.’
It was aa he said, sae I didna tell him what I had been daein wi it. I made up my mind to keep the robin a secret.
I didna win oot again to see it that nicht, and I lay for a lang while no sleepin, and wishin I hadna listent to my cuisin Jockie. I didna faa asleep till near mornin, and whan I waukent it was late.
My grandfaither had taen his breakfast and gane awa oot withoot me, to clear the snaw on the Lesmahagow road, and it was juist as weill, for if I had been up and he had offert to let me gang wi him he wad hae thocht it queer that I wantit to bide at hame.
Whan I saw my grannie thrang at the dishes I slippit oot to the cairt shed.
There was a cat lyin flat fornent the caivie, a wild ane frae the barn that wasna fed, for feedin wad hae keepit it frae huntin, and its job was to catch the barn rats. It was starin at the front ο the coop.
The wee robin wasna in the caivie, and there was nae wey it could hae gotten oot ο it save into the coop, sae I jaloused that the cat had frichtent it, and it had gane into the coop oot ο sicht.
I hissed at the cat to frichten it awa, but it juist stared up at me wi its een wide, and didna budge an inch. I liftit my haund to let on I was gaun to throw something at it, and it moved a wee to ae side and spat.
I felt gey frichtent.
I wonert if the cat could lift the caivie lid, for it was a gey cunnin ane. In the simmer whan the Donegals bade in the barn they used to keep the milk for their tea in a can aside the stove, and the cat used to cowp it, and skail the milk, and syne lap it up aff the flair. A cat that could dae that could dae onything.
A thocht cam to me then. Mebbe the robin wasna in the coop at aa. Mebbe the cat had gotten it.
It wasna likely, mind ye, but I juist had that wee dout, and I couldna rest till I had lookit in the coop to see if the robin was there.
I liftit a stane and lat flee at the cat, and it streikit awa ahint the bumper. Syne I liftit the twa wee cleiks and poued the coop back frae the caivie.
I micht hae kent what wad happen. The wee robin fluttert oot ο the coop, and whan I tried to grab her to pit her in the caivie again she hauf flew, hauf hoppit, till she was in ahint the bumper wi the cat.
The bumper was leanin against the waa, and it was faur ower heavy for me to move. It had to be heavy, for it was used for brekkin doun the lumps efter plewin, in ony field that was to be plantit oot wi strawberries.
I kent what I wad dae. I wad hammer on the bunker wi a stick, and frichten the cat oot ο its wits.
But nae suner had I turnt awa to look for a stick than the cat streikit oot, wi the robin in its mou, and gaed for the barn like a bullet.
I gaed into the barn, but aa its winnocks were shuttert, and save at the door I couldna see. Whaureir the cat was wi the robin, it wasna in the licht.
I graipit my wey to the lether that led up to the milk-hoose bothy, and lookit up there, but there was naething. It was gey daurk up there tae, for the skylicht was smoored wi snaw.
I telt my grandfaither the haill story that nicht at bedtime, whan my grannie was thrang in the scullery, washin the supper dishes. He rase aff his chair.
‘We’ll hae a look in the barn,’ he said.
He gaed ben to the scullery and lichtit a lantern.
‘Whaur are ye gaun?’ said my grannie. ‘It’s past Rab’s bedtime.’
‘We’re gaun oot to the barn. It’s juist a wee maitter atween oorsells.’
‘Ye speyl that laddie,’ she said.
My grandfaither took the lantern to a corner ο the barn whaur there was a pile ο tuim tattie-bags.
‘There’s what’s left ο yer robin,’ he said.
There were juist a wheen ο feathers, scattert ower ane ο the bags.
I stertit to greit.
He pat his haund on my shouther on the wey back to the hoose.
‘Never heed, son,’ he said. ‘Ye’ll ken no to dae it again.’