Ill luck is thought to follow the killer of dear Robin Redbreast, the children’s winter friend. No one ever shoots Robin, nor do children rob its nest, nor throw stones at it. Bad luck to anyone who does so. The little bird with its wee body endeavoured to staunch the blood flowing from the Saviour’s side, and it has ever since retained on its breast the stain of His sacred blood, and it consequently enjoys a sacred life. It is safe from harm wherever English is spoken.
There is another legend, which is said to be extant in Carmarthenshire, accounting for the Robin’s red breast. It is given in Bye-Gones, vol. i., p. 173, from Mr. Hardwick’s Traditions, Superstitions, Folk-lore, etc.:—“Far, far away, is a land of woe, darkness, spirits of evil, and fire. Day by day does the little bird bear in its bill a drop of water to quench the flame. So near to the burning stream does he fly that his dear little feathers are scorched; and hence is he named Bronchuddyn (qu. Bronrhuddyn), i.e., breast-burned, or breast-scorched. To serve little children, the robin dares approach the infernal pit. No good child will hurt the devoted benefactor of man. The robin returns from the land of fire, and therefore he feels the cold of winter far more than the other birds. He shivers in brumal blasts, and hungry he chirps before your door. Oh, my child, then, in pity throw a few crumbs to poor red-breast.”
The Sea Gull.
It is believed that when sea gulls leave the sea for the mountains it is a sign of stormy weather.
A few years ago I was walking from Corwen to Gwyddelwern, and I overtook an aged man, and we entered into conversation. Noticing the sea gulls hovering about, I said, there is going to be a storm. The answer of my old
companion was, yes, for the sea gull says before starting from the sea shore:—
Drychin, drychin,
Awn i’r eithin;
and then when the storm is over, they say one to the other, before they take their flight back again to the sea:—
Hindda, hindda,
Awn i’r morfa.
which first couplet may be translated:—