A Tyrolian folk-tale informs us that in days of yore the ravens were "beautiful birds with plumage white as snow, which they kept clean by constant washing in a certain stream." It happened, once upon a time, that "the Holy Child, desiring to drink, came to this stream, but the ravens prevented him by splashing about and befouling the water. Whereupon he said: 'Ungrateful birds! Proud you may be of your beauty, but your feathers, now so snowy white, shall become black and remain so till the judgment day!'" In consequence of their uncharitable action have the ravens continued black ever since (539. 92). In his childhood Christ is often represented as playing with the other little Jewish children. One Sabbath day He and His playmates amused themselves by making birds out of clay, and after the children had been playing a while, a Sadducee chanced to pass that way. The story goes on to tell that "He was very old and very zealous, and he rebuked the children for spending their Sabbath in so profane an employment. And he let it not rest at chiding alone, but went to the clay birds and broke them all, to the great grief of the children. Now, when Christ saw this, He waved His hands over all the birds He had fashioned, and they became forthwith alive, and soared up into the heavens" (539. 181). From Swainson we learn that in the Icelandic version of the legend the birds are thought to have been the golden plover "whose note 'deerin' sounds like to the Iceland word 'dyrdhin,' namely 'glory,' for these birds sing praise to their Lord, for in that He mercifully saved them from the merciless hand of the Sadducee." A Danish legend, cited by Swainson, accounts for the peculiar cry of the lapwing, which sounds like "Klyf ved! klyf ved!" i.e. "Cleave wood! cleave wood!" as follows (539. 185):--"When our Lord was a wee bairn, He took a walk out One day, and came to an old crone who was busy baking. She desired Him to go and split her a little wood for the oven, and she would give Him a new cake for His trouble. He did as He was bid, and the old woman went on with her occupation, sundering a very small portion of the dough for the promised recompense. But when the batch was drawn, this cake was equally large with the rest. So she took a new morsel of the dough still less than before, and made and baked another cake, but with the like result. Hereupon she broke out with 'That's a vast overmuckle cake for the likes o' you; thee's get thy cake anither time.' When our Lord saw her evil disposition, His wrath was stirred, and He said to the woman: 'I split your wood as you asked me, and you would not so much as give me the little cake you promised me. Now you shall go and cleave wood, and that, too, as long as the world endures!' With that he changed her into a weep (_vipa_) [lapwing]."