Irish Animal Folk Tales for Children

by Doreen McBride

  Culan smiled. ‘King Conor’s bound to give me a big order. He’s got a nephew, Setanta. The wee nipper shows great promise as a warrior. He’s bound to need to be kitted out.’

  Then he thought, ‘I can make needles! I wonder if I could sell a few needles to the ladies in King Conor’s court?’

  Think about needles. They are very small and they must have a sharp point and an eye that thread can be passed through.

  That’s a very difficult thing to make from red-hot iron and the type of instruments used to make horse shoes! Very few blacksmiths have the necessary skill.

  Hound wagged his tail and barked when he saw Culan, who was carrying six dead hens and a dead pig. He opened the gate of the pen, petted Hound, and said, ‘Here boy! Grub’s up! I’ve important guests staying tonight. Take good care of us.’

  I’d eat ye as soon as look at ye!

  Hound barked, wagged his tail and thought, ‘If anybody dares put their neb out of yon door I’ll chew their legs off.’

  Cuculan went back to his guests and said, ‘Last week a scoundrel climbed over the fence. It was a wild night, the rain was pelting down and the wind was howling. During the night Hound woke me. He was barking and howling. I heard someone scream and thought, “A burglar must have climbed the fence. I should go and see what’s happening.” It was a wild night so I thought, “I’ll find out in the morning.” I snuggled up under my nice warm wolfskins and went back to sleep.

  ‘Next day I wondered if I’d been dreaming. I went to lock Hound up. I keep him in his kennel during the day because he’d kill anyone he saw. He’s my dog. He loves me but anyone else is dead meat.’

  ‘I walked around outside and couldn’t see anything. I thought, “All’s in order! I must have been dreaming,” then I found it. It was lying against the fence, a leather boot with a bit of chewed leg sticking out of it!

  ‘I looked more carefully and found traces of blood here, there and everywhere.

  ‘A burglar must have climbed the fence and Hound ate him. The only thing left was one boot and a whole lot of blood stains. Good for Hound!’

  Culan was in the middle of making a speech welcoming King Conor when there was a terrible commotion outside: screams, yells and frantic barking followed by a terrible gurgling sound.

  King Conor went white, ‘I forgot about Setanta,’ he groaned. ‘I asked him if he’d like to come with me. He was playing hurling with the Boys Brigade. He said he wanted to finish the game and he’d catch up with me.’

  Culan gasped, ‘If he’s managed to get into the stockade, Hound’ll eat him.’ He nearly wet himself. He knew King Conor loved his nephew. He’d hoped the king would buy a complete set of armour for his nephew. He couldn’t do that if Setanta was dead and, worse than that, he’d lose his royal customer! He couldn’t care less about Setanta. The only thing he cared about was money. He opened the door and looked out.

  King Conor stood behind him with his heart in his mouth. He loved Setanta and didn’t want him to be eaten by Hound. The other guests stood behind the two men and peered through the gloom and SCREAMED! One of the dancing girls fainted and a warrior did an unexpected poo! There are times when wee smelly ones are not to be trusted!

  A large white shape was rising in the air and beating itself against the ground.

  Boom … Boom ... BOOM.

  One of the courtiers yelled, ‘Inside everyone! It’s a ghost! It’s out to get us.’

  King Conor peered out into the night. He didn’t believe in ghosts and he wanted to find Setanta so he yelled, ‘Setanta. Setanta! SETANTA! where are you?’

  A cheery voice shouted, ‘Here, Uncle King Conor!’ The white shape stopped hitting the ground and Setanta ran towards the door dragging Hound along behind him.

  Culan gasped in horror, ‘He’s killed Hound! The wee …’ He stopped himself saying a string of bad words as he remembered who Setanta was.

  Setanta reached the door, stood smiling and said, ‘Culan, I’m sorry about your dog. When I arrived the gate was shut so I did my salmon leap over the fence and was walking towards the door when I heard snarling and barking behind me. I looked back and saw Hound. He was mad, slabbering at the mouth with his red eyes glowing like coals. He was going to eat me.

  ‘I thought the best thing I could do was knock him out so I put my hurling ball on the ground and used my stick to aim it at Hound’s forehead. Hound moved his head so the ball stuck in his throat. The poor dog was in agony so I put him out of his misery by banging his head against the ground.’

  Culan’s face went bright purple with the effort of stopping himself giving Setanta a good kicking. (He was a Celt and grown up Celts frequently hit or kicked children.) He stuttered, ‘Immmm’d glaaaaad you’re not hurt, buuuut how do I protect myyyyyy property? Hoooooound was priceless. Now he’s dead I’ll be robbed. I don’t know what to do.’

  Good dog! Did yer man taste nice?

  Setanta smiled as he said, ‘Dinnae worry! Hound died in battle. His soul’ll go straight to the Afterworld. He sired some great pups, didn’t he? Train one of them up to be a guard dog and I’ll look after your property ’til it’s ready.’

  Culan looked doubtful, turned to King Conor and asked, ‘What do you think of that?’

  ‘I think it’s a great idea. Setanta killed Hound so he’s shown himself capable of dealing with any danger that comes his way.’

  Setanta was as good as his word. He looked after Culan’s property until another dog was reared. From that day until the day he died, Setanta was nicknamed Cuculan. In Irish ‘Cu’ means hound, and Culan was Hound’s owner so Setanta’s new name, Cuculan, means ‘Culan’s hound’.

  Setanta also became known as The Hound of Ulster because he was a champion warrior who guarded Ulster. He lived in Dundalk in a place called Dun Dealgan. Names change through time so Dun Dealgan changed to Dundalk.

  You can visit the place where Cuculan lived. It’s a good place for a picnic, if you don’t mind a walk up a steep hill. There’s a great view from the top. It’s not well sign-posted. Go to Dundalk and find the Armagh Road. Dun Dealgan is marked by a confusing sign that says ‘Castletown’! An Elizabethan tower house was built on the site in the sixteenth century. That’s a long time after Cuculan died, so now his old home is called Castletown. People in Dundalk are very friendly so if you get lost ask somebody for directions.

  Once upon a time in days of old, when men were bold and monkeys chewed tobacco, the birds of the air had an argument in the forest that once covered Ireland. Eagle had called a meeting to decide who’d be crowned King of the Birds. He stood high on the topmost branch of a tree and shouted, ‘Humans have kings so we should choose one, too. I’m big and strong. I should be king.’

  Crow disagreed: ‘I should be crowned because I have such a beautiful voice.’

  ‘Huh!’ sneered Sparrow, ‘Humans tell bad singers, “You’ve a voice like a crow!”’

  ‘Beautiful voice, my bum! I’m the bird with a beautiful voice,’ snarled Nightingale.

  The other birds thought that was stupid and said, ‘Kings don’t have to sing!’

  ‘Aaahoo, awooo, to wit to woo,’ said the owl, ‘Kings should be clever. Have you ever heard the old saying, “As wise as an owl?” I’m wise, so I should be king.’

  ‘Don’t make me laugh!’ sneered the seagull, ‘You’re a dimwit!’

  When wren said he should be king of the birds, Eagle laughed.

  ‘Sure you’re no bigger than a sparrow’s fart.’

  Sure you’re no bigger than a sparrow’s fart!

  Wren was very annoyed, so did what he always did when he was annoyed. He very, very quietly, so nobody could hear him, said nursery rhymes his old granny had taught him:

  Dan, Dan was a funny wee man,

  He washed his face in a frying pan,

  He combed his hair with a donkey’s tail,

  And scratched his belly

  With his big toe nail!

  Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

 
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

  All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

  Said, ‘Not scrambled eggs for breakfast again.’

  That cheered him up so he remembered another one and muttered:

  Mary had a little lamb,

  She also had a bear,

  I’ve often seen her little lamb

  But I’ve never seen her bare!

  He had a quiet little giggle, then listened carefully. It sounded as if the birds were beginning to agree.

  Goose said, ‘The bird who can fly the furthest should be king.’

  Robin said, ‘That’s not fair because you fly thousands of miles each year while I have to stay at home guarding my territory.’

  Eagle saw his opportunity and said, ‘Birds are meant to fly, so our king should be a champion flyer. I agree flying long distances gives some birds an unfair advantage. Why don’t we see who can get up the highest?’

  Wren said, ‘I agree!’

  The other birds were astonished, ‘You agree?’

  ‘Yes! I agree. And a king should be brainy.’

  ‘We all agree!’ shouted the other birds.

  They lined up and flew way, way up into the sky. That is all except Wren. He was small and light so he climbed on top of Eagle’s back and hid among his feathers.

  As the birds flew higher and higher, they began to get tired and dropped out one by one.

  Eagle flew on and on, up and up, until there were only a few left.

  Wren looked down, felt dizzy and remembered his old granny saying, ‘There’s no gain without pain!’ Then he thought, ‘If I’m going to be King of the Birds I’ll have to be brave. I must hang on like grim death and distract my mind so I don’t die of fright!’ So he forgot to be quiet and began singing one of old Granny’s songs. It’s a very good song to sing if you want to annoy somebody because you can keep repeating it:

  Old King Cole was a merry old soul,

  And a merry old soul was he.

  He sent for a light

  In the middle of the night to go to the W.C.

  The moon shone bright on the closet wall,

  The candle flame burned true,

  But old King Cole fell down the hole

  And got all covered in poo!

  Old King Cole …

  And the little dog laughed to see such fun, so the cat did a little bit more.

  Eagle heard the singing and looked around. Stork was still flying upwards, as were Albatross and Goose. He couldn’t see anyone else and thought, ‘I must be imagining things,’ and gave himself a good shake. Wren hung on like mad. He was lucky he didn’t fall off Eagle’s back! He stopped singing and whispered another nursery rhyme:

  Hey diddle diddle,

  The cat did a piddle

  All over the kitchen floor.

  The little dog laughed to see such fun,

  So the cat did a little bit more.

  Eagle became exhausted. He couldn’t go any higher. Wren smiled to himself.

  Eagle laughed, ‘That’s done it! All the other birds have dropped back so I’m King of the Birds.’

  Wren flew off Eagle’s back and shouted, ‘No you’re not!’ and flew above Eagle. ‘I’m higher than you. I’m King of the Birds.’

  Eagle was furious! He tried to fly higher but couldn’t. He was too tired. ‘You cheat!’ he yelled. ‘I flew higher than you! You just sat on my back!’

  ‘But we agreed whoever got up highest should be king. I used my brains to get above you and kings should have good brains. I outwitted you so I’m King of the Birds.’

  The other birds agreed and Wren was crowned King of the Birds.

  (Reproduced with the kind permission of the executors of Crawford Howard)

  Crawford Howard was a very dear old friend. I was upset when he died some years ago. He was great fun and I loved storytelling with him.

  Crawford said his verse was ‘rubbish’! I have to agree with him, but that doesn’t matter. It’s funny, isn’t it? For several years he taught English as a foreign language in Spain. You’d never guess that from the ungrammatical fun things he wrote! He used words that used to be common but are disappearing. This is what they mean: lep means big jump, outta means out of, herpled means walk as fast as possible with a limp and possibly using a stick, bake and gub mean the same thing – face. They can also mean mouth. Dozer means very slow and sleepy.

  Ireland has a tradition of writing comic verse and Crawford’s part of it. He used to make me laugh so hard I nearly wet my knickers! Why don’t you see if you can make people laugh by writing some comic verse?

  There never were any snakes in Ireland, so St Patrick couldn’t banish them. You can’t banish what you haven’t got! Millions of years ago Ireland and England were joined on to the rest of Europe. Ireland broke away and became a separate island and the snakes couldn’t cross the Irish Sea. They did manage to reach England before it became separated from Europe but not Ireland, so Crawford’s ‘poem’ is a load of nonsense!

  St Patrick and the Snakes

  You’ve heard of the snakes in Australia,

  You’ve heard of the snakes in Japan,

  You’ve heard of the rattler – that old Texas battler,

  Whose bite can mean death to a man.

  They’ve even got snakes in auld England, Nasty adders all yellow and black,

  But in Erin’s fair Isle, we can say with a smile,

  They’re away and they’re not coming back.

  Now years ago things was quite different,

  There were servants all over the place.

  If ye climbed up a ladder ye might meet an adder,

  Or a cobra might lep at yer face.

  If ye went for a walk up the Shankill,

  Or a dander along Sandy Row,

  A flamin’ great python would likely come writhin’

  An’ take a great lump outta yer toe.

  There once was a guy called St Patrick,

  A preacher of fame and renown

  An’ he hoisted his sails and came over from Wales,

  To convert all the heathen in Down.

  An’ he herpled about through the country

  With a stick and a big pointy hat,

  An’ he kept a few sheep that he sold on the cheap,

  But sure there’s no money in that.

  He was preachin’ a sermon in Comber

  And getting quite carried away

  When he mentioned that Rome had once been his home

  And that was the wrong thing to say,

  For he felt a sharp bite on his cheekbone

  An stuck a han’ up til his bake

  An the thing that had lit on his gub and had bit,

  Was a wee Presbyterian snake.

  Now the snake slithered down from the pulpit,

  Expecting St Patrick to die,

  But yer man was no dozer – he lifted his crozier,

  An’ belted the snake in the eye.

  Says he to the snake, ‘Listen legless

  Ye’d better take yerself off

  If ye think that that trick will work on St Patrick,

  Ye must be far worser than daft!’

  So the snake slithered home in a temper,

  An gathered his friends all around,

  Says he, ‘Listen mates, we’ll get on our skates,

  I reckon it’s time to leave town.

  It’s no fun when ye bite a big fella,

  An’ sit back and expect him to die,

  And he’s so flamin’ quick with yon big crooked stick

  That he hits ye a dig in the eye.’

  So a strange sight confronted St Patrick

  When he woke the very next day.

  The snakes, with long faces were all packing their cases,

  And heading for Donegal Quay.

  Some got on cheap flights to Majorca

  And some booked apartments in Spain.

  They were all headin’ out and there wasn’t a doubt

  They weren’
t comin’ back again.

  So the reason the snakes left auld Ireland,

  (An’ this is no word of a lie)

  They all went to place to bite people’s faces

  And be reasonably sure that they’d die.

  An’ the auld snakes still caution their grandsons,

  For God’s sake beware of St Pat

  An take yourselves off if you see his big staff,

  An’ his coat an’ his big pointy hat

  Crawford Howard

  The snake slithered home in a temper.

  Most giants are scary. They’re hungry, eat children, put spells on beautiful princesses, lock them up in towers and shout nasty things like, ‘Fee, Fi Fo Fum, I smell a dirty bum!’

  Most giants hate everybody except their mothers, who are disgusting old hags with runny noses and dribble running down their chins! You don’t want to be near a giant’s mother because she keeps doing big smelly ones!

  Finn McCool was different. He was gentle. He loved his sister, Fiona, and doted on her children, Bran and Skeolan. He hunted, fought battles and did great deeds with the Fianna. He was normally good tempered but he lost his temper with the Scottish giant Bennadonner and built the Giant’s Causeway so he could cross the sea and knock the melt out of him, and he was furious when a wicked wizard set Tara on fire every year for twenty-three years.

  Tara was the home of the High Kings of Ireland – in other words, it was very important. It was founded by a queen called Tea! When she died her grave was called Tea-Mur or the House of Tara. Over time Tea-main changed into Temair and eventually into Tara.

  Thousands of years ago Tara was a city. It’s in County Meath. The original city has disappeared but you can still see the remains of earthen ditches and banks that once protected it. There’s a beautiful view from the highest point and I enjoyed running up and down the banks, although I had to be careful not to fall and break my neck!

  Feasts used to be held in Tara’s banqueting hall. The kings and queens invited everyone from the whole of Ireland. Imagine that! You could be a tramp and you get an invitation from the king to come to a feast in a hall that seated 1,000 diners at a time!