Just below the clouds, near the village of Mynachlogddu in the Preseli Hills, stand the crags of Carn Meini. Stark, raven-black and shrouded in mist, these crags and the surrounding hills have long been the home of the Gwppau.
No-one has ever seen them, but on the wind-racked slopes their plaintive cries can sometimes be heard by those whose imagination has not been blunted by modern living. The low haunting melodies of the Gwppau linger in the ear for days, maybe even years.
Gwppau are formless and peaceful, wanting nothing more than to be left alone to continue their search for the one object that has eluded them since time began – a cuckoo’s nest. For some reason, perhaps beyond our understanding, the Gwppau search day and night, sunlit summer and frost-shattered winter.
Older residents of the Preseli area believe that they are searching for the cuckoo’s eggs, which, if eaten by the formless Gwppau, will make them visible. Others say that the Gwppau are blind and would dearly love to see the splendid scenery around them. This is possible only if they can eat a cuckoo’s egg.
Yet another story tells that the Gwppau would be able to communicate with human beings through the medium of a young cuckoo. This last story says that the Gwppau liken the antics of humans to those of the cuckoo, and only through these mad-cap birds is it possible to explain the many secrets of the area.
Whichever story you choose to accept, please respect the Gwppau homelands – the magical, mysterious Preselis, which guard legends known and unknown long before our Grandfathers’ fathers were born.
Alan Baker[shareaholic app="share_buttons" id="4703992"][shareaholic app="recommendations" id="4704000"]