By the Gods!

Phooka

Original art by myself, influenced by the work of Brian Froud. :)

The Phooka is an Irish demon. It takes many forms and demi-forms. The most common are that of a horse, a goat, an eagle and a cow with long horns. The Phooka tricks weary travellers into accepting an invitation of a ride. Once upon the back of a Phooka, the rider is taken on a wild ride through the countryside until the Phooka dumps the rider into a marsh into a ditch. The sound of manic laughter afterwards is the laughter of the Phooka as it runs away.

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The Children of Lir

An Irish Legend

There once was a man called Lir, who was happily married with three children. The eldest a girl and the two youngest boys. He loved his family with all his heart until one day, his wife passed away. Horrified at the thought of his children living without a mother, Lir married a beautiful woman named Aoife.

Aoife was terribly jealous of her new husband’s love for his children as he adored them far more than he did her. Consumed by jealousy, she ordered one of the servants to kill the children. When he refused, she used her magic instead to turn them into swans.

The children were doomed to wander until the spell could be broken if they were blessed by a monk. To stay together, their father fashioned a gold chain to fit around all three of their necks so they would not be tossed apart on the raging waters. They spent 300 years on Lough Derravaragh, 300 years in the Sea of Moyle and 300 years in Irrus Domnann Erris.

Eventually, the swans were found by monks belonging to a monastery on an island. They blessed the swans and they changed back into humans, but being 900 years old, they were withered and ancient. They three were buried together, the gold chain still linking their necks.

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The Cŵn Annwn, found in ancient Welsh folklore, were spectral hounds thought to be associated the Annwn, the Otherworld of Welsh folklore. Annwn was, unlike most modern Otherworld myths, a land of delights and eternal youth beyond the imagination of mortal man. 

The hounds were supposed to hunt only on specific nights of the year, roaming the Welsh countryside in packs. It was said that the hounds were louder at a distance, their growling and howling fading as the neared their target. At the moment they were no longer audible, it was said that your death was a certainty. 

(I would humbly suggest to the reader that they make no attempt to pronounce the Welsh words here. It’s just embarrassing for everyone involved.)

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The Salmon of Knowledge - An Irish Legend

A young lad named Fionn (pronounced Fyun) was a promising youth. After his father died, his mother brought him to a poet named Finnegas to learn all he could so that in time, he could join the Fianna. The Fianna was a band of Irish warriors. But in order to join, a man needed to have wisdom and a wide knowledge of poetry, art and history.

Finnegas taught Fionn all he knew and the lad grew to be a fine young man. One thing that Finnegas talked about often was the myth of the salmon of knowledge. The salmon of knowledge was a fish that swam through the rivers of Ireland, the myth went that anyone who ate the salmon would gain all the wisdom of the world. Finnegas often sat by the river outside the hut where he and Fionn lived, fishing in hope to catch the salmon.

One day, Fionn heard Finnegas calling him from outside, running to the river, he saw that Finnegas had caught none other than the salmon of knowledge! Finnegas instructed the boy to cook it for him to eat, but warned him not to taste the fish at all, or he would gain the wisdom. Fionn did as he was told and began cooking the fish over a crude fire. he watched it carefully so as not to burn it. Suddenly, a bubble rose on the fish’s skin. Reaching out, Fionn burst it with his thumb. The bubble popped and burned his finger. Instinctively, Fionn stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked it to soothe the burn.

When Finnegas saw what the boy had done, he grew very sad that he would never gain all the wisdom of the world, but was cheered at the thoguht that Fionn would be the greatest warrior the Fianna had ever known.

Fionn grew to be the leader of the Fianna. It is said that they sleep in a cave beneath Dublin and will rise when Ireland is in his greatest need. Their coming will be alerted by the sound of his hunting horn.

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Saint Patrick

Here he is, folks: the patron Saint of Ireland, whose big day is March 17, honoured the world over with copious amounts of green alcohol and annoying pinching prayer and appreciation. It’s the end of the holiday now as this article goes up, but who are we kidding— none of you will be in any shape to read this until late tomorrow morning, right?

We have two authentic letters written by the ol’ Saint, and from them we can garner a few pieces of information: Patrick, when he was about 16 years old, was captured from Britain by Irish raiders and taken to Ireland as a slave. He dwelt there, slave-style, for six years before escaping and returning to his family. After entering the Church and becoming a learned fellow and ordained bishop he returned to Ireland and did the whole Saint-thang.

His famous exploits include but are not limited to: 

▪ Banishing all the snakes from Ireland (they attacked him during a fast — big mistake.

▪ Making the Shamrock important — he related the three-leafed clover to the three faces of the trinity. The metaphor stuck.

▪ His magic walking stick growing into a real tree. 

▪ Communicating with ancient Irish ancestors. Being psychic is always a helpful Saintly tool.

To sum up, he was a devout bishop that served in Ireland, and lived through the late-4th to mid-5th centuries CE. He died on the 17th of March, and the day is celebrated as a day of solemnity and holy obligation in Ireland, and a day of general merriment and “kiss-me-I’m-Irish-ness” everywhere else.

Queen Medb

Also known as Maeve, Medb was the mighty warrior-queen of Connacht (the north-west of Ireland). Magnificent but malevolent, it was said she fought as fiercely as the Morrigan, the goddess of death on the battlefield. According to Irish mythology, no king could reign in Connacht unless he was married to Medb, who was believed to hold the kingdom’s sovereignty in her person. You hear that? She was the kingdom! Medb was the real deal. 

Medb’s most famous action was the invasion of Ulster (the north of Ireland), when her forces captured the great brown bull of Cuailgne and killed the hero of Ulster, the super-powered Cuchulainn. Medb herself was slain by Forbai, the son of King Conchobhar Mac Nessa, while she was bathing in a pool. It’s always a pity when the truly great ones go out Elvis-style.

Forbai had learned that Medb always bathed in the same pool. He carefully measured the exact distance between the spot she bathed and the shore, and returned to Ulster to practise shooting a slingshot the same distance until he was satisfied with his accuracy. Back goes Forbai to the pool, and KOs Medb from a staggering distance with his slingshot, right between the eyes. Thus, Ulster was revenged. Those guys really loved Cuchulainn. 

Banshee

“Banshee” is the modern name for the bean sidhe, or “woman of the fairies,” the traditional fairy of the Irish countryside. Perhaps you recall some of the Tuatha De Danann we’ve discussed in the past? Well, after the arrival of the Milesians (the ancestors of the present-day Irish) from what is now Spain, the gods and goddesses that comprised the Tuatha De Danann disappeared underground to dwell in mounds. 

In the centuries that followed, the old gods were slowly transformed into fairies. As a Christian presence infringed and absorbed Ireland’s pagan past, the old gods of the Celts became folk legend and fairies in the woods and hidden nooks of the land. Banshees were the lady spirits that haunted the woods, and it was believed that the wail of a banshee foretold the approach of a human death. The land itself, riddled with the markers and ancient customs of Celtic mythology, still attributed great power and mystery to the spirits of the old religion.