Think! It's all I ask of you.
Fairy Food and Drink
Once you've got the proper mindset regarding the Cautions, it is but child's play to recognise other anti-fey preparations. Fairy food and drink are notorious for trapping the unwitting in Fairyland, if not simply poisoning them. Won't you feel smart then, the next time a band of shrivelled goblin merchants attempts to harm you in such a way, even if to the untrained observer it appears merely that roadside fruit vendors are offering you a small sample of their hard-earned produce? For at that moment will you extract a hearty sandwich from your daypack, biting into it secure in the knowledge that you will not be whisked away to their horrid underground grotto. No, the only danger you'll face on that day is potential choking due to smug laughter whilst keenly devouring your sandwich. Don't be swayed by the looks of affronted confusion plastered across the goblins' faces, or by their mutterings of “Well, I never….” These are but pathetic, last-ditch efforts to get you to taste of their fruit, a single bite of which will deliver you straight into their clutches. Three cheers for the Cautions!
Dancing
A May Day festival or other village celebration is a fine time for dancing, and there's no reason not to throw prudence to the wind during the merrymaking, save one: the risk of fairy abduction. Should there be a fey fiddler secreted among the musicians, or a seelie stepper on the dance floor, then the final tune of the evening could end with you dancing off with them, never to return. Thus, on an evening when you find yourself about to dance with a fine-looking stranger at the close of the night's festivities, I encourage you to do as I do. First, pull from your pocket a generous ball of string, tying the end of it round your left index finger. Then hand the rest of the string to the parish priest, himself immune to fairy magic and a person with your soul's salvation foremost in his heart. Now you may turn to your ravishing partner and reel away to your heart's content. Rest assured you won't be going home with that treacherous vixen tonight, my friend! I've used this tactic a number of times, and the very fact that I'm able to teach it to you now is testament to its efficacy.
As a corollary, remember that any villager dancing the night away with a gorgeous stranger is a likely mark for fairy abduction. If they've not sensibly enacted the “String Caution” described above, they may yet be saved by a Countermeasure in the form of a well-timed tackle from behind. I've found in my experience that hardly anyone enjoys such a rescue, but I'm able to sleep at night knowing I've done the right thing.
Even if a misunderstanding over the intent of your humanitarian intervention has barred you from attending this season's festival, you may still find a way to enact helpful Countermeasures for others. Walk the paths of the nearby forests, your watchful eyes on the lookout for “fairy rings,” that is, circular arrangements of any variety of mushroom growing in the wild. These rings are the dancing grounds of the fairies, and anyone crossing into them is liable to be trapped in the Fairy Kingdom. What is it to you, giving up an afternoon to sit near the fairy ring cautioning other hikers from stepping into the snare? Should they not hear you, or perhaps not grasp the seriousness of crossing this mystical mycological boundary, it's not out of the question to employ a dash of jiu-jitsu to veer them round it. It's more difficult than one might expect, this manoeuvre, especially if you're trying to avoid stepping into the circle yourself.
Elf-Shot
The widespread prevalence of fairy assaults means it is sadly impossible for us to stop them all, no matter how hard we try. This is doubly true when it comes to attacks at the green-knuckled hands of fairy archers firing a peculiar ammunition known as “elf-shot” at men and livestock alike.
Appearing in the aftermath as one or more flint arrowheads strewn about in the grass, elf-shot is in fact invisible during its deployment, leaving no mark or cut to show its entry into the victim. Let not elf-shot's ephemeral nature deceive you as to its potency, for it is responsible for countless cases of rheumatism, slurred speech, muddled senses, impaired memory, and loss of command over one's own face and limbs.
The only solace we may find in this deplorable state of affairs is that the remedy to these various ills is to be found in the elf-shot itself. Folk wisdom has long held that any cow fallen victim to fairy archers may be healed of its infirmities by making the animal drink from a trough into which an elf-shot arrowhead has been dropped. A moment's thought is more than sufficient to translate this remedy into a Cure which may benefit our fellow man. A flint arrowhead dropped into the evening pint of a person you suspect may be the victim of elf-shot produces, from the evidence I've gathered, startlingly quick and undeniable results. Those thought of as intellectually slow begin to spout full paragraphs straightaway, and the lame walk, if not run. Of course, reports of these miracle cures always reach my ears second-hand, as I make it a point to depart the pub immediately after slipping the elf-shot into the various pint glasses. After all, I'm not so vain as to need to reap the glory from such a simple act. I implore you to exhibit similar modesty when effecting Cures.
The lack of public knowledge concerning the Cautions, Countermeasures, and Cures is a continual source of surprise to me. Despite their being among the oldest forms of field medicine, these anti-fey tactics seem to be less understood, and consequently less appreciated, with each passing year. The path of the paranormal paramedic is often a lonely, thankless one; truly it is. Reassure yourself that what you are doing is for the good of humanity, and trust that you will find people sympathetic to your calling. As a lover of the countryside and its countless charms, I wish not only that you too can increase your enjoyment of these pleasures, but also that you gain a reputation among the rural populace as a stalwart defender of their way of life.
ON GNOMING
Springtime Means Gnoming • Proper Outfitting • The Hunting Party • Indications of Gnome Life • A Technique for Riflemen • Trickery • Cookery • The Trouble of Trolls
THE COMING OF SPRING means many things to many people, but to me its principal message is this—time for gnoming! Crafty and fast, gnomes are one of the season's most rewarding catches.
Although the gnomish population has dropped slightly in recent years, seasoned hunters should take this not as a deterrent to bagging gnomes but rather as an incentive. Gnomes are more of a nuisance than a help to the people of the countryside. They befriend woodland creatures and invite them into the field and garden to eat freely of the farmer's bounty. Their latticework of burrows undermines the integrity of the forest floor, creating nasty traps for the hoof of the horse or the foot of the heavy brother-in-law. But if anyone needs an ultimate rationale for taking up arms against these diminutive devils, I urge them to consider the wonderfully dark, earthy taste of gnomish meat. A dish combining mushrooms, fresh-picked vegetables, and gnome is surely one of springtime's greatest pleasures.
The intelligent gnomer should outfit himself with the proper equipment. Stealth is essential when tracking gnomes, so make your first priority the sourcing of a quiet pair of thin-soled stalking boots. Gnomes gravitate towards temperate climates and wooded habitats, shunning swamps, so you needn't bother with those hip waders. Wear drab-coloured clothing in keeping with the terrain on which you will be hunting. Dull browns and greens usually do the trick.
Choose your weapon carefully. Because your quarry stands no taller than one cubit when full grown, it's easy to overestimate the required firepower. This can be a grave mistake, resulting in your bringing along an implement which will blast this tasty fairy into so much pixie dust. It's better to first ask yourself, “What sort of gnomer am I?” Should you think yourself a cunning stalker, you may best be served by carrying a powerful slingshot. The patient archer is paired nicely with a precise crossbow. For those quick brutes among the gnoming set, a potent club gets the job done. Rifles are categorically out of the question for beginners, but as I will explain later, a skilled marksman can bag a gnome with a rifle without even piercing the delectable creature's skin. A final essential bit of
equipment is the elephant gun, for reasons that will be explored at the close of this essay.
Gnoming parties are best limited to two, or to one hunter and a reliable hound. Station yourself near the entrance to a gnome's house, which you will discern entwined in the spreading roots of a large oak tree. Look for shrunken examples of furniture recalling the Arts and Crafts Movement littering the front garden. Dawn and dusk are the preferred hours for your grim vigil, as it is just before sunrise that the gnome leaves his house to go to the woodshop and nightfall when he returns.
Gnomes have an olfactory sense nearly as sharp as their joining skill, so the successful gnomer will take care to smear his skin and clothing with generous amounts of les odeurs de la forêt, as the French would have it. Mix elderberries, broken-up toadstools, and stag droppings to make a thick paste, rubbing it on yourself and any weapons you have brought. This will optimise your chance of evading the gnome's keen nostrils.
When day and night are at their inbetweenest, that is when you, the wisest gnomer of the wood, smeared in elderberry paste and sling at the ready, will observe the telltale sign of the gnome as he saunters down his forest path. That sign is none other than the gnome's conical red hat. Each gnome wears this distinctive headgear in all periods of wakefulness and sleep. It is that selfsame cap that will prove to be our antagonist's undoing, for it shines like a crimson beacon atop his head.
A well-placed stone or crossbow bolt, or some deft cudgel work, will knock the life out of any healthy gnome. Take care to aim for the creature's head, and hit hard. The gnome's cranium is thick and, centuries ago, inspired the now-popular term “gnomeskull” to indicate a person of slow wits.
The rifle-wielding sharpshooter must take a different approach, because any bullet which hits a gnome will take more gnome than not. What's the use spending all your time smearing stag fewmets if all you've got to show for your trouble is a mangled pulp of a fairy that might offer up as much sustenance as a malnourished stoat? No, the marksman's technique is subtle, sporting, and offers more options for the successful gnomer. It is known as the “concussion shot” and, in my opinion, is the only way to hunt gnomes.
The trickiest bit about the concussion shot is the set-up, for it requires that you first “tree” the gnome. Although treeing a gnome may seem like a lot of work, your efforts will be rewarded in that you may, by way of a successful concussion shot, bag the gnome live and uninjured. Gnomes are excellent climbers. Given a chance to select between a morning spent in a hound's jaws or in the branches of a nearby oak tree, they pick the latter every time. But because gnomish bellies are fat and gnomish arms are short, their technique leaves them laid flat and still against the tree trunk, gripping the bark tightly with their thick little fingers. Take your opportunity here. Aim just to one side of the gnome's head, such that your shot hits the tree. Even a strong gnome will fall immediately and can be collected in a bag once it hits the ground. When the concussion shot is used against squirrels and other smaller arboreal creatures, it will kill them. The gnome's fortitude is great, however, and it is merely knocked unconscious by the bullet's reverberating impact in the tree and, subsequently, its skull. The fall shouldn't break any of your prey's sturdy bones. Death does a double take and leaves the gnome completely intact with no ill effects beyond an aching head, once it awakens.
Of course, the results of a botched concussion shot can be disastrous. If your aim has been tainted by a few early morning whiskies and you actually score a bullet to the gnome's skull, then no gnome. Hit too far to either side of the gnome's head, and your shot will miss the tree, possibly connecting with another member of your gnoming party. Depending on how your season is going, it's conceivably better to hit your partner, as any partaker of gnomish meat will attest.
Once bagged, gnomes must be stored if they are not to be served for that night's dinner. Expired gnomes can be hung in the cellar for up to a week or kept in the freezer for thawing later in the year. Keeping live gnomes is trickier. Hurry home with your catch before it comes to from the concussion shot. Many a hunter has shaken his head in dismay after his gnome woke up and slipped out of the bag using evil magic. Gnomes are also clever riddlers and are not above using such trickery to fool the unwitting sharpshooter into letting them go.
Don't be deceived. Get your gnome home and shackle it in the cellar before the creature opens its treacherous eyes. Small iron bands and chains will keep the gnome from using any of its magic, let alone digging its way out of its prison of stone. If you have been fortunate enough to catch a brace of gnomes, or if you are slowly amassing a collection, a damp barrel with a removable lid may be a more convenient storage method. Feed the gnomes radishes and beer, and they will remain docile, no matter how many of them you cram into the barrel.
Gnomes freshly dispatched—be they from field or barrel—must be drawn and skinned before they are fit for cooking. Their clothing, especially the hat, makes for a decent conversation starter, but for goodness' sake wash it all thoroughly before displaying. You have no idea where it's been. Unscrupulous hunters turn over gnome beards on the black market, but I find this practice loathsome, for even the most comprehensively boiled beard is still prone to harbouring pests. Handle yours with care, and dispose of it as you would vermin.
The meat of gnomes is lean, flavourful, and dense. As with all wild game, it is prone to dryness and is best prepared with an olive oil marinade, adding onions and thyme or rosemary before putting it in the oven. A quick roasting along the lines of that for a hare or pheasant of comparable size is the easiest way to cook your gnome, the simplicity of the process allowing its natural succulence to come to the fore. Long-bearded gnomes have a tendency to make for tough eating and are better suited to the stewpot than the roasting pan. Adding a handful of cubed bacon can bring back any moisture lost to age, and the pork develops in the gnome a flavour irresistible to nearly everyone squeamish about tasting wild game. The carcass and giblets are excellent bases for a soup stock.
As with much in the way of incorporating fairies into one's diet, the field of gnome cookery is an underdeveloped one. Experiment.
The Trouble of Trolls
No gnomer should go afield without keeping in mind that modern man is not the only enemy of the gnome. As the gnomish population has decreased, the danger posed to man by our prey's natural predator has risen. The trolls are hungry, and they are on the move. A single troll is more of a nuisance than twenty gnomes, but as a single troll is also stronger than twenty men and offers up not one scrap of tasty meat, “trolling” simply isn't much fun compared to gnoming. However, the problem remains, and the modern gnomer must come to grips with this reality.
Trolls are extremely sensitive to sunlight, a single ray of it turning them to stone, and so most of them retire hours before sunrise. Common sense tells us then that the easiest way to avoid crossing paths with a troll is to opt for gnoming at dawn rather than at dusk. Eventually, though, most gnomers will find themselves enjoying a spot of night gnoming, and in this a little knowledge of trolls can never hurt.
Fortunately, trolls are generally heard and smelt long before they are seen. The troll's utter lack of stalking skills and general absence of coordination make it impossible for this engine of destruction to sneak up on a hunter. The deafening crash of trees and the troll's thunderous bellowing and grunting signal its coming long before it arrives. Additionally, the odour of a mature troll is robust enough to pierce the thickest coat of elderberry paste. There's no need to go into specifics here—once the gnomer has caught a whiff of his first troll, he'll never mistake the smell for anything else.
Unfortunately, most people don't get a second chance to smell a troll. This is why the intelligent gnomer always has his elephant gun at the ready. The troll is a swift runner, but is slow to react when a cannon is pulled on him. As with gnomes, aim for the head. Strike anywhere else, and you'll be eating your own leg as a late-night snack.
Should you find yourself face-to-face with such a mon
ster with nary an elephant gun at hand, as once happened to me, it is possible to dispatch the troll using the gnome's natural defence—the “difficult” riddle. Here's the one I employed to stunning effect against my troll: If one train departs Bradford at four o'clock and another departs Brighton at five o'clock, and the two trains arrive in Bristol at eight o'clock, then at what time did the trains arrive in Bristol? Something along these lines will cause the troll to stop whatever it is doing and sit to ponder the riddle until the strain of thought causes its head to explode. Stand clear, good sir.
An IRON NAIL IN YOUR POCKET
The Joy of Rambling • The Nature of the Pixie • Glamour • The Home Tailor • The Iron Rod Campaign • Stray Sods • A Cautionary Tale
MANY PASTIMES HAVE BEEN described as quintessential to the country gentleman, among them rowing, golf, and occasional forays into plein-air watercolour. But none of these activities captures the full spectrum of the country gentleman's love for the landscape as does rambling.
When I speak of the rambler, I talk not of the boorish teller of tales sat by the fire at the village pub but rather of the devoted explorer and scholar of the byways which criss-cross the land. With sensible boots on feet and sturdy walking stick in hand, he can be found of an afternoon traversing field and footpath, connecting the dots on his Ordnance Survey map as he moves from gate to tumulus, from ancient tree to venerable cenotaph, taking in fresh countryside air and the rays of the sun whilst navigating the earth completely on his own terms.
But is his tread truly his own? Are there aspects of this simplest of activities, of putting one foot in front of the other, over which the rambler has not utter command? I'm unhappy to report that indeed there are. Of course, some of these features are generally innocuous and are what make a walk interesting, the day's weather being the most pervasive and variable, with topography and the region's flora and fauna also making the list. The animals in most parts of the civilised world are, generally speaking, docile and unthreatening, as eager to keep their distance from your garden-variety rambler as they are from the game warden and the sportsman. Anyone enjoying vigorous time outside looks upon all these factors not as impediments to an afternoon well spent but as intriguing features to be cherished for giving the day's stroll its characteristic flavour.
Goblinproofing One's Chicken Coop Page 6