THE MAN WHO KILLED THE CUCKOO
by Laurence Housman · from Moonshine & Clover
Adapted Version
A grumpy gardener lived in a house with a garden. A cuckoo sat in his pear tree. It sang "Cuckoo, cuckoo!" The man did not like the sound. A neighbor saw him. "Be kind," he said. The man said, "I will make it go!"
Original Story
THE MAN WHO KILLED THE CUCKOO
ONCE upon a time there was a man who lived in a small house with a large garden. He made his living by gardening, while his wife looked after the house. They were better off than most of their neighbours, but they were an envious couple who looked sourly over the hedge at all who passed by, and took no man's advice about anything.
At the end of the garden stood a large pear-tree: and one day the man was working in the shade beneath it, when a cuckoo came and perched itself on the topmost branch, crying "Cuckoo, cuckoo!"
The man looked up with a frown on his face, and cried, "Get out of my tree, you noisy thing!" But the cuckoo only sat and stared at the landscape, going up and down on its two notes like a musical see-saw.
The man stooped down, and took up a clod of earth and cast it at the cuckoo, which immediately flew away.
A neighbour who was passing at the time saw him, and said, "It's ill-luck to drive away cuckoos: you would be better not to do it again." "Do it again?" cried the man. "If it comes into my tree again I'll kill it!" "Nobody dares kill a cuckoo;" replied the neighbour, "it's against Providence." "I'll not only kill it, if it returns," exclaimed the man in a fury, "but I'll eat it too!" "No, no," cried his neighbour, "you will think better of it. Even the parson daren't kill a cuckoo." "Wait and see if I don't better the parson, then!" growled the man, as he turned to go on with his work; "just wait and see!"
All the day he heard the cuckoo crying about in the field, now here, now there, but always somewhere close at hand. It seemed to be making a mock of him, for it always kept within sound, but never returned to the tree. When he left off work for the day, he went into the house and grumbled to his wife about that everlasting cuckoo. "Did you see what a big one it was?" said his wife. "I saw it as it sat in our tree this morning." "It will make all the bigger pie then," said the man, "if it comes again."
The next morning he had hardly begun to work, when the bird came and settled on the pear-tree over his head, and shouted "Cuckoo!"
Then the man took up a great stone, which he had by him ready, and aimed with all his might; his aim was so true, that the stone hit the bird on the side of the head, so that it fell down out of the tree into the grass in front of his feet.
"Wife," he shouted, "I've killed the cuckoo! Come and carry it in, and cook it for my dinner." "Oh, what a great fat one!" cried his wife, as she ran and picked it up by the neck; "and heavy! It feels as heavy as a turkey!"
She laid it in her apron, and went and sat in the doorway, and began plucking it, while her husband went on with his work. Presently she called to him, "Just look here at all these feathers! I never saw anything like it; there are enough to stuff a feather-bed!" He looked round, and saw the ground all covered with a great heap of feathers that had been plucked from the bird: enough, as she said, for a feather-bed.
"This is a new discovery," cried he, "that a cuckoo holds so many feathers. We can make our fortunes in this way, wife—I going about killing cuckoos, and you plucking them into feather-beds."
Then his wife carried the cuckoo indoors, and set it down to roast. But directly the spit began to turn, the cat jumped up from before the front of the fire, and ran away screaming.
The smell of the roast came out to the man as he worked in his garden. "How good it smells!" said he. "Don't you touch it, wife! You mustn't have a bit!" "I don't care if I don't," she replied: for she had watched it as it went turning on the spit; and up and down, up and down, it kept moving its wings!
When dinner-time came the man sat down, and his wife dished up the bird, and set it upon the table before him. He ate it so greedily that he ate it all—the bones, and the back, and the head, and the wings, and the legs down to the last claw.
Then he pushed back his plate, and cried, "So there's an end of him!" But just as he was about saying that, a voice from inside of him called, "Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!"
"Oh my heart and liver!" cried the man. "What's that!"
Then his wife began laughing and jiggering at him. "It's because you were so greedy. If you had given me half of that cuckoo this wouldn't have happened. Now you see you are paid."
"Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" cried the voice again from within.
"What have I done to myself?" cried the man, in an agony of terror. "What a poisonous noise to come from a man's belly! I shall die of it, I know I shall!"
His wife only said, "See, then, what comes of being greedy."
He got up on to his feet, and looked down at his empty plate: there was not a scrap left on it. Then he put his hands to his sides, and shrieked, "I feel as if a windmill were turning round inside me! And I'm so light! Wife, hold me down—I'm going off my feet!" And as he spoke, he swung sideway, and began rising with a wobbling motion into the air. His wife caught him by the head, while his feet swung like the pendulum of a clock, and all the time a voice inside him kept calling, "Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!"
Presently it seemed to the unfortunate man as if the windmill had stopped, and he was able to strike the ground with his feet once more. "Oh, blessed Mother Earth!" he cried, and began rubbing it up and down with his feet, and caressing it as if it had been a pet animal. But his face had grown very white.
"Put me to bed," he said to his wife; and she put him to bed on the top of the great feather-mattress which she had made only that morning from the cuckoo-pluckings.
The cuckoo kept him awake far into the night, and his wife herself could get no sleep; but towards morning he dozed off into a disturbed sort of slumber, and began to dream.
He felt his eyes turning inwards, so that he could see into the middle of his body. And there sat the cuckoo, like an unpleasant nestling, with great red eyes staring at him, and the wound on its head burning a blue flame. It seemed to grow and grow and grow, dislocating his bones, and thrusting aside his heart to make room for itself. Its wings seemed to be sawing out his ribs, and its head was pushed far up into his throat, where with its angry beak it seemed reaching to peck out his eyes. "I will torment you for ever," said the bird. "You shall have no peace until you let me go. I am the King of the Cuckoos; I will give you no rest. You will be surprised at what I can do to you; even in your despair you will be surprised." Then it drew down its head and pecked his heart, so that he woke in great pain. And as his eyes turned outwards he saw that it was morning.
"Wife," he said, before going out, "I feel as though, if I went out, I might be carried away, like a worm in a bird's beak. Fasten a chain round me, and drive it with a stake into the ground, and let me see if so I be able to work safely in my garden."
So his wife did as he told her; but whenever he caught hold of a spade the bird lifted him off his feet, so that he could not drive it into the ground. He wrung his hands and wailed, "Alas, alas! now my occupation is gone, and my wife and I shall become beggars!"
The villagers came and looked over the hedge, wagging their heads. "Ah, you are the man who killed the cuckoo yesterday! and already you are come to this!"
Every day things got worse and worse. His wife used to have to hold him down and feed him with a spoon, for if he took up a knife to eat with, the bird hurled him upon it so violently as to put him in danger of his life. Also it kept him ceaselessly awake with its cry, so that he was worn to a shadow.
One day in the end of the month of June he heard a change come in its horrible singing; instead of crying "Cuckoo" as before, it now broke its note as is the cuckoo's habit to do before it goes abroad for the winter, and cried "Cuck-cuck-Cuckoo, cuck-cuck-Cuckoo!" Some sort of a hope came into the man's heart at that. "Presently it will be winter," he thought to himself, "and the cuckoo must die then, even if I have to eat ice and snow to make him! if only I do not die first," he added, and groaned, for he was now indeed but a shadow.
Soon after this the cuckoo left off its crying altogether. "Is he dead already?" thought the man. All the other cuckoos had gone out of the country: he grew quite happy with this new idea and began to put on flesh.
But one night, at the dead of night, the cuckoo felt a longing to be in lands oversea come into its wings. The man woke with a loud cry, and found himself sailing along through the air with only the stars overhead, and the feeling of a great windmill inside him. And the cuckoo was crying with a new note into the darkness: the cry it makes in far lands oversea which is never heard in this country at all: a cry so strange and terrible and wonderful that we have no word that will give the sound of it. This man heard it, and at the sound his hair went quite white with fright.
When his wife woke up in the morning, her husband was nowhere to be seen. "So!" she said to herself, "the cuckoo has picked him up and thrown him away somewhere; and I suppose he is dead. Well, he was an uncomfortable husband to have; and it all came of being greedy."
She drew down the front blinds, and dressed herself in widow's mourning all through the winter; and the next spring told another man he might marry her if he liked. The other man happened to like the idea well enough, for there was a house and a nice garden for anyone who would have her. So the first fine day they went off to the Parson and got married.
It was a very fine day, and well on in spring: and just as they were coming back from the church they heard the note of a cuckoo.
The widow-bride felt a cold shiver go down her marrow. "It does make one feel queer," she said; "that sound gave me quite a turn." "Hullo! look at him up there!" cried the man. She stared up, and there was her husband sailing through the air, looking more of a shadow than ever, and very miserable with the voice of the cuckoo calling across the land from the inside of him.
The cuckoo deposited him at his own doorstep in front of the bridal couple.
"O you miserable scare-crow!" said his wife, "whatever brought you back?" The unhappy man pointed below the surface, and the shut-up cuckoo spoke for him.
"And here I find you marrying yourself to another!" cried her returned spouse: but the other man had shrunk away in disgust and disappeared, so there was no more trouble with him.
But the old trouble was as bad as ever, the cuckoo was just as industrious in his cuckooings, and just as untimely: and the man went on wearing himself to a shadow with vexation and grief.
So all the summer went by, till again the cuckoo was heard to break its note into a double sound. But this time, no glimmer of hope came to the man's mind. "Tie me fast to the bed," he said sorrowfully to his wife, "and keep me there, lest this demon of a bird carry me away again as he did last year; a thing which I could never survive a second time. Nay, give me a sheath-knife to keep always with me, for if he carry me away again I am resolved that he or I shall die."
So his wife gave him the sheath-knife, and by-and-by the bird became very quiet, so that they almost hoped he was dead from old age.
But one night, at the dead of night, into the birds wings came the longing to be once more in lands oversea. He stretched out his wings, and the man woke with a loud cry. And behold, there were he and his wife, sailing along under the stars tied into the feather-bed together, all complete and compact; and inside him was the feeling of a great windmill going round and round and round.
Then in despair he drew out his sheath-knife and cut himself open like a haggis. And on a sudden out flew the cuckoo, all plucked and bald and ready to roast. At the very same moment the bed-ticking burst, and away went the cuckoo with his feathers trailing after him, uttering through the darkness that strange terrible cry of the lands oversea.
But the man and his wife and the empty bed-ticking, they fell and they fell and they fell right down, till they got to the bottom of the deep blue sea; and there was an end of them.
Story DNA
Moral
Defying natural order and succumbing to greed can lead to inescapable and tragic consequences.
Plot Summary
An envious gardener defies a neighbor's warning and kills a cuckoo that bothers him, then greedily eats the entire bird. The cuckoo's cry begins to emanate from inside him, causing him physical torment, preventing him from working, and eventually carrying him away overseas. He returns to find his wife remarried, but the cuckoo's torment continues. In a final act of desperation, while being carried through the air again, he cuts himself open to release the bird, but this leads to his and his wife's tragic death at the bottom of the sea.
Themes
Emotional Arc
pride to terror to despair
Writing Style
Narrative Elements
Cultural Context
Cuckoos are migratory birds, and their arrival and departure are significant seasonal markers in European folklore, often associated with omens. The idea of a cuckoo's cry being a harbinger of fate is common.
Plot Beats (16)
- An envious gardener is annoyed by a cuckoo in his pear tree and, despite a neighbor's warning of ill-luck, defiantly vows to kill and eat it.
- The man successfully kills the cuckoo with a stone, and his wife marvels at its size and the abundance of its feathers, which she uses to make a feather-bed.
- The man greedily eats the entire roasted cuckoo, bones and all.
- Immediately after eating, the cuckoo's cry begins to emanate from inside the man, terrifying him.
- The cuckoo inside him causes him to feel light and float, preventing him from working, and his wife mocks his greed.
- The man experiences vivid, painful dreams of the cuckoo growing inside him, tormenting him.
- The cuckoo's internal presence prevents him from using tools and keeps him awake, making him a shadow of his former self.
- As winter approaches, the cuckoo's cry changes, giving the man false hope of its demise.
- One night, the cuckoo carries the man, who is now a mere shadow, through the air to lands overseas.
- His wife, believing him dead, remarries the following spring.
- The cuckoo returns the man to his doorstep, interrupting his wife's wedding day, and the new husband flees.
- The cuckoo's torment continues throughout the next summer, driving the man to further despair.
- Fearing another flight, the man asks his wife to tie him down and gives him a knife for self-defense.
- The cuckoo again carries the man and his wife, tied to their feather-bed, through the night sky.
- In utter despair, the man cuts himself open with the knife, releasing the cuckoo.
- The cuckoo flies away, but the man, his wife, and the empty bed-ticking fall into the deep blue sea and drown.
Characters
The Man ★ protagonist
A man of average height and build, initially appearing robust from his gardening work. Over the course of the story, he becomes increasingly gaunt and pale, described as 'worn to a shadow' with 'hair went quite white with fright' due to the cuckoo's torment.
Attire: Simple, practical peasant clothing suitable for gardening in a temperate European climate. Likely includes sturdy linen or wool trousers, a plain shirt, and possibly a waistcoat or smock, all in muted, earthy tones. His clothes would become increasingly disheveled and worn as his torment progresses.
Wants: To maintain control over his property and life, to assert his will over others (including nature), and to escape the torment of the cuckoo.
Flaw: Greed, stubbornness, and a refusal to heed warnings or acknowledge the supernatural. His envy and desire for control lead directly to his downfall.
He transforms from a stubborn, envious gardener into a tormented, emaciated figure possessed by the cuckoo, losing his livelihood, his sanity, and eventually his life, all due to his initial act of defiance and greed.
Envious, stubborn, greedy, short-tempered, easily angered, and ultimately despairing. He is driven by a desire to assert control and possess what he sees as his own.
Image Prompt & Upload
A gaunt, elderly man with stark white hair, a pale, terrified face, and wide, desperate eyes. He is floating slightly above the ground, his body appearing light and insubstantial, with his arms outstretched in a gesture of helplessness. He wears simple, worn linen trousers and a plain, disheveled shirt in muted earth tones. His posture is one of extreme distress and weightlessness. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Wife ◆ supporting
A woman of average build, likely appearing sturdy and practical, consistent with a woman who manages a household. She does not undergo significant physical changes, maintaining her practical demeanor.
Attire: Practical peasant attire for a European housewife. This would include a long, simple linen or wool dress, possibly with an apron over it, in muted colors like brown, grey, or cream. She also wears a widow's mourning dress for a period.
Wants: To maintain her household, to benefit from her husband's actions (like the cuckoo feathers), and ultimately, to secure her own comfort and future.
Flaw: Her lack of empathy and her own subtle greed prevent her from truly helping her husband or understanding the supernatural consequences of his actions.
She remains largely unchanged in personality, adapting to her husband's torment and eventually replacing him, showing her pragmatic and self-preserving nature.
Envious, pragmatic, somewhat mocking, and ultimately self-serving. She is not malicious but lacks empathy for her husband's suffering, often attributing it to his greed.
Image Prompt & Upload
A sturdy adult woman with a plain, unadorned face and practical brown hair pulled back in a simple bun. She wears a long, cream-colored linen dress with a practical dark blue wool apron tied over it. Her expression is pragmatic and slightly calculating. She holds a large, plucked, bald bird in her hands. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Cuckoo ⚔ antagonist
Initially appears as a large, fat cuckoo bird. After being killed and eaten, it exists as an internal, tormenting presence within the Man, described as an 'unpleasant nestling' with 'great red eyes' and a wound on its head, capable of growing and shrinking, and later appearing 'all plucked and bald and ready to roast' when it finally emerges.
Attire: None, as it is a bird. Its feathers are its natural covering, which are later plucked.
Wants: To torment and punish the Man for killing it and eating it, asserting its power and the natural order.
Flaw: Its vulnerability to being killed initially, though this only transforms its method of torment. Its seasonal migratory habit provides temporary respite.
It transforms from a physical bird into a supernatural tormentor, eventually escaping its prison within the Man, leaving him to his demise.
Provoking, vengeful, tormenting, persistent, and powerful. It is a supernatural entity that punishes the Man for his transgression.
Image Prompt & Upload
A large, plucked cuckoo bird, completely bald with raw, pinkish skin, and large, glowing red eyes. Its body is somewhat distended, and it has a visible wound on its head. It is in mid-flight, with a few loose feathers trailing behind it. Its beak is open, as if calling. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Neighbor ○ minor
An ordinary man, likely of similar social standing to the Man, with no distinguishing features mentioned. He would appear as a typical villager.
Attire: Simple, practical peasant clothing, similar to the Man's, but perhaps less worn, as he is merely passing by. Muted, earthy tones.
Wants: To warn the Man against ill-luck and to uphold traditional beliefs about cuckoos.
Flaw: His inability to convince the stubborn Man of the danger.
He serves as a narrative device to introduce the supernatural warning and does not change.
Superstitious, cautious, and respectful of traditional beliefs and 'Providence.' He tries to warn the Man.
Image Prompt & Upload
An adult man with a weathered, kind face and short brown hair, peering over a green, leafy hedge. He wears a simple, dark brown linen tunic and an olive-green waistcoat. His expression is one of mild concern and caution. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Other Man ○ minor
An ordinary man, likely of similar social standing to the Man, with no distinguishing features mentioned. He would appear as a typical villager, perhaps a bit more agreeable than the first husband.
Attire: Simple, practical peasant clothing, perhaps slightly newer or cleaner than the first Man's, as he is marrying. Muted, earthy tones.
Wants: To marry the Widow for the practical benefits of a house and garden.
Flaw: His cowardice and inability to handle the supernatural or unpleasantness.
He briefly appears as a potential replacement for the Man but quickly disappears when confronted with the supernatural reality.
Agreeable, opportunistic (seeing the house and garden), but easily disgusted and cowardly when faced with the supernatural.
Image Prompt & Upload
An adult man with a plain, slightly startled face and short, dark hair. He wears a clean, light brown linen tunic and dark trousers, suitable for a simple wedding. His body is recoiling, and his expression is one of shock and disgust. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
Locations
Man's Cottage and Garden
A small, modest cottage with a large, well-tended garden, likely in a rural English setting. The garden features a prominent, large pear-tree. The house is simple, with a doorway where the wife sits to pluck feathers, and an interior with a fireplace and a bed.
Mood: Initially mundane and somewhat envious, later becomes a place of growing dread, torment, and domestic strife.
The man first encounters and kills the cuckoo here; he experiences the initial torment; his wife remarries here; he is returned here by the cuckoo.
Image Prompt & Upload
A quaint, half-timbered English cottage with a thatched roof, nestled within a sprawling, slightly overgrown garden. A large, gnarled pear tree dominates one corner of the garden, its branches heavy with early spring blossoms. A low, hawthorn hedge separates the garden from a narrow, dusty lane. Soft, dappled morning sunlight filters through the tree canopy onto the rich, dark earth of the garden beds. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
The Deep Blue Sea
The vast, dark, and cold expanse at the very bottom of the ocean, a final resting place.
Mood: Desolate, final, cold, mysterious.
The man and his wife, along with the empty feather-bed ticking, fall to their ultimate demise here.
Image Prompt & Upload
An abyssal, deep blue ocean floor, stretching into an inky blackness. No light penetrates from above, only the faint, bioluminescent glow of unseen deep-sea creatures in the far distance. The ground is a smooth, featureless expanse of fine silt, with a few scattered, ancient-looking rocks. A profound sense of cold, silent emptiness pervades the scene. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
