A large hare was spotted in the Kavanaghs’ meadow, just by the woods. It was an extraordinary creature with incredible ears; bright, intelligent eyes and a gleaming russet coat. Anyone who was lucky enough to see it said it was strangely beautiful. What was really unusual was that the hare didn’t sprint off the minute it saw you but would stand still and stare, as if it was about to speak.
When butter and eggs went missing around the town, people began to speculate. Tensions started to run high and tempers became frayed. When the hare was seen running at full pelt away from the hen house or the creamery and into the Kavanaghs’ yard, most were sure they’d found the thief.
Biddy Ryan – the last bean feasa (woman of knowledge) – had been laid to rest just three months before. Folk knew her wisdom must have been passed on, but no one knew where to – until now. Even her own people believed she had been a piseogaí and a shapeshifter. Everyone had kept their distance from the faerie woman – unless they needed a cure or a baby delivered safely. No one had ever seen Biddy leave after she visited a house, but many was the time an old hare was seen close by.
Mairín Kavanagh had just turned sixteen. She was a striking young woman with soft, russet hair – just like her late mother’s. Biddy had delivered her as a baby, and they had often been seen speaking. With everyone else, she was quiet and kept to herself.
A local man, William O’Donnell, had taken a shine to Mairín and wished to marry her. But whenever he called to the house, Mairín was nowhere to be found. The third time, William left in a rage, certain that she was avoiding him. Each time he saw the hare race off across the fields as if it was running for its life.
Biddy Ryan – the last bean feasa (woman of knowledge) – had been laid to rest just three months before. Folk knew her wisdom must have been passed on, but no one knew where to – until now. Even her own people believed she had been a piseogaí and a shapeshifter
Furious, William thought: if Mairín wouldn’t marry him, he would make sure she wouldn’t marry another. A week later, he bragged to all who would listen how his butter was the best it had ever been – it tasted different, much sweeter and creamier.
At the next full moon, he waited. He’d left the door ajar and crouched behind it. He saw the hare hop into his kitchen. When the hare leapt onto the table, there was an almighty clatter as an iron trap clasped down on its hind leg. The trap snapped open, knocking the hare in the face. The hare screamed – a sound so terrifying it sounded like a bean sí. William saw a cut on the hare’s left cheek. It stopped and stared at him before fleeing.
Neither Mairín nor the hare was seen for a long time – nearly a year – until William’s new wife went into labour. Mairín arrived at the door minutes before the baby was born, as the town’s midwife. She had a bandage on her face. She did not speak to William, but he felt her quiet rage.
Every morning since Mairin’s return, William has woken to a fresh cut across his cheek. William can’t prove it, but he believes it is the shapeshifter seeking her revenge. Meanwhile, a russet hare is often seen in the fields around the town – running wild and free.
The Faerie Isle is a wonderful introduction to the magic of Irish folklore for readers aged 8-plus. It features beautifully illustrated tales of 16 faeries from Irish folklore, well known individuals such as the Banshee, Mermaid and Leprechaun, and others who may not be as familiar including the Dullahan, the Faerie Hound and the Sheerie.
The Faerie Isle: Tales and Traditions of Ireland’s Forgotten Folklore, by Síne Quinn with illustrations by Dermot Flynn, is published by Walker Books, £14.99.
