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Stone the crows
By Malcolm Rogers
We have many heroes on the Cooley Peninsula including Finn MacCumhaill
(pronounced MacCool as a general rumhaill), the Great Brown Bull of Cooley
and of course the greatest of them all Cu Chullainn.
A single stone jutting out of a field just a short distance from Knockbridge
village in Co. Lough just a few miles down the road from the Peninsula
is reputed to be where Cu made his last stand against Medbh’s
advancing army during the Cattle Raid of Cooley.
Mortally-wounded, CC strapped himself against the stone so that his enemies
would think that he was still alive.
It was only when a crow (the Morrigan) landed on his shoulder that the
enemy knew that the Hound of Ulster the great Cu Chullainn, was
dead.
That’s crows for you. Every one a messer.
There’s more. Myself and a friend were walking up Slieve Foy when
we decided to conduct a zoological experiment.
Corvus corax, as the raven refers to itself on formal occasions, is the
largest member of the crow family. It’s the show-off amongst crows,
tumbling through the sky with amazing aeronautical displays.
Our experiment was simple I’d pretend to fall over and then
I’d lie doggo to see how close the ravens would come in their role
as scavengers. Well, let me tell you they came so close I could hear their
wing beat.
The Twa Corbies came to mind. In that old, macabre Scottish song, two
crows are discussing their dinner a newly-slain knight. One says
to the other:
“You’ll sit on his great thigh bone
And I’ll pick out his bonnie blue eye
With many a lock from his golden hair
We’ll line our nest when it grows bare oh,
Line our nest when it grows bare.”
Having decided they were close enough I got up and the ravens dispersed.
Smart birds, they didn’t want any trouble.
But here’s the funny thing. I have never been able to repeat the
phenomenon when my sister Fiona was visiting I was keen for her
to see this slice of Cooley crow life. But the ravens resolutely refused
to play ball.
On every subsequent occasion it was the same story.
But last week I found the answer. According to the Scientific American
magazine ravens live in one small area for perhaps as long as 25 years...
AND THEY GET TO RECOGNISE PEOPLE.
So the word had obviously spread when they saw me approaching
they’d go: “Ah take no notice. It’s just that gobsh*te
from The Irish Post. Pay no heed.”
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