‘Wha?’ said James.
Mr Kelly explained how the Vikings wore these spoons around their necks on a silver chain like a piece of jewellery. Then they would take the spoon, and put it into their ears and use it to scoop out their ear wax (ewww)! A bit like a cotton bud.
Áine looked around at James. He looked a bit green in the face.
‘Are you all right, James?’ said Mr Kelly, but James shook his head.
Áine realised why James was turning green. He was thinking of where that ear spoon had come from – that big pile of stinky muck from the bottom of the river. He was thinking of where it had been before that – in some big Viking’s ear hole full of wax, and he was thinking of where it had been a half an hour ago – in his own ear, his nose, in his mouth ... ewwwwwwwwww!
Áine couldn’t help it; she had a big grin on her face.
Mr Kelly explained how the Vikings had come to Dublin from Scandinavia over a thousand years ago. Ages!
They had settled along the shores of the River Poddle, right near where Áine was walking. When the council workers dug up the mud at the bottom of the river, up came the ear spoon too. It must have been lying there undiscovered for a whole thousand(ish) years.
Now Mr Kelly told Áine that she’d have to hand in her spoon to the people at the National Museum. She was a bit sad at this, but Mr Kelly told her they would take good care of it, and they would put it on display so loads of people could come and see it. That part made her feel a bit better.
But do you know what else? A couple of weeks later, didn’t Áine get a letter in the post from the people in the museum. They sent her a very nice thank-you and a reward for turning in the spoon to them. A cheque for three hundred euros!
Well, with that reward money Áine bought herself a brand new bodhrán to play at the session (and promised her Da she would practise loads first).
And do you know what else? Ever since that day James Kavanagh stopped licking people’s lunch and stuff and putting it in his armpit. He even started being nicer to people, and that was the biggest reward that Áine could ever hope for!
2
The Two Trees
The Townland of Ballinascorey is situated in County Dublin, right at the edge, where Dublin meets Wicklow. If you were to take a walk there and go up to the top of a certain hill, you would come across an old stone circle. Now nobody is quite sure exactly how long it has been there, but it has definitely been there for a long time!
If you walked up to the circle, one thing you would notice is that there are two trees growing beside it. These are very tall trees, and most likely very old too. It’s a little unusual to see two old trees like this on their own, but if you ask someone in the area about them they will probably tell you this story ...
A number of years ago, a farmer who worked the land nearby wanted to cut down the trees and clear a field for cattle.
Now, two old people in the village heard about this and the two of them called at his house and asked him not to do it.
‘Those are fairy trees.’ one said. ‘They have been there as long as we can remember. It would be very bad luck to cut down a fairy tree, never mind two!’
‘I don’t have a good feeling about it,’ said the other.
Instead of agreeing with them, the farmer laughed at them and told them to be on their way.
‘Fairy trees,’ he thought, ‘Bad luck – humph! What an absolute load of codswallop! Sure aren’t they only old stories? Fairy trees indeed!’
The next day he set off out through the gate of his farm in his tractor, with his saws on the back, and headed off to cut down the two trees. From the kitchen window, looking out, his wife watched him leave, and she shook her head. Sure didn’t she have a bad feeling about it too!
As he drove up the boreen towards the hill, he passed his two sons working in the field. One waved, but the other just shook his head and kept digging. Because, do you know what, he didn’t have a good feeling either.
At this point, maybe I should tell you a bit about fairy trees in Ireland, because we have quite a lot of them! They are said to be sacred places where the fairies gather, and sometimes even make their homes. They are often just one sort of tree, like the blackthorn, but to be honest they can be any type of tree, and you can find them all over the country.
Down through the years, people have had a lot of respect for the fairy folk in Ireland, and to chop down a tree was seen as most disrespectful. Sure you can understand that! Imagine someone came and chopped down your house, you wouldn’t be very happy would you? Especially if you’d lived in it for a thousand years!
Anyway, back to the farmer. So there he was, driving uphill to the trees at the top of the hill. He was nearly there. The stone circle was in his sights, when didn’t the strangest thing happen.
The ground before him began to swell and sway, as if it was a wave on the sea! Now, he thought for a second that his wheel had gone down into a hidden ditch, but of course he knew this was a smooth enough boreen, and he’d been up it countless times, and never before had seen this.
Next thing didn’t the ground swell up like a wave big enough to go surfing on! The saws came flying off the back, the tractor was thrown up into the air and the farmer himself was thrown up even higher.
He landed in a crumpled heap on the side of the ditch, and the big wheel of his tractor came crashing down right beside him. A few more inches and it would have landed on him and squished him flat as a pancake!
The farmer cried out in pain. His leg was twisted where he landed on it, and he was certain that it was broken. When the farmer didn’t come home for his tea, his wife sent his sons up the boreen to look for him. Of course, when they found him lying there, they rushed him off to the hospital to get his leg seen to.
As they took him down the hill the farmer looked back to where he had fallen. The ground was as flat as it always was – no sign of any disturbance. All he could see was the two trees looking down at him from the top of the hill.
Well, a few days later didn’t his wife and his two sons come in to visit him in the hospital. His leg was strung up in a big cast, and the doctors said he wouldn’t be able to do much farm work for a couple of months. This meant that his sons would have to take on extra, so they began making a list of things to do.
‘The cows ... grand, the hay, fix the shed,’ said one son as he went through the list of jobs that he needed to take on.
‘And what about those two trees – you never got to cut them, Da?’
The mother and the younger son looked at each other and exchanged a frown.
‘Sure I’ll make a start on them tomorrow, so I will,’ said the older son, and he stood up to leave.
‘Wait!’ said the farmer, sitting up a little too suddenly in his bed and wincing from the pain in his leg. ‘I think we’ll just leave those two big trees where they are for a while.’
The farmer’s wife and the younger son exchanged another look.
‘Really, Da?’ said the older son.
The farmer mumbled something about the trees providing shade on the side of the hill and stopping the soil from shifting, but didn’t look his son in the eye as he spoke.
‘Ok,’ said the older son. ‘Now it’s nothing to do with all them stories about fa –’
He was just about to say the word ‘fairies’ when his mother butted in.
‘Well, that’s enough chatter for today. You rest up now, husband, we’ll tend to the farm and we’ll be in to see you tomorrow.’
The farmer’s wife had seen the flicker of fear on her husband’s face. She knew he was afraid that if his sons drove up the hill to try to chop the trees down, that something bad would happen to them, and this time maybe worse than a broken leg! She also knew that he couldn’t really let on to his sons that this was the reason, seeing as he had been mocking all the stories before.
‘Never mind,’ she thought to herself. ‘It’s better this way. Now my husband won’t be ashamed of his fear, my sons will s
tay safe, and most of all, the two trees will stay where they are meant to be.’
The farmer’s wife kissed her husband goodbye, and walked out. As she did, she gave a look to her younger son, and they smiled at each other without saying anything. They both knew that these were indeed fairy trees, and they both wanted them to stay right where they were!
Now was it just some sort of landslide that caused the tractor to tip that day and for the farmer to break his leg? Who knows for sure, but I’ll tell you one thing, if you walk up to the top of that hill, to this very day, you will still see those two trees, standing watch over the ancient stone circle.
3
Mister Shh Shh
In Ringsend, on the Southside of Dublin, there used to be a big factory called the Glass Bottle Factory. It was right on the waterfront and it stood really tall up against the skyline. It was near the edge of the water, and the land beside it had lots of hills and dunes to play on. Sometimes things would wash up from the sea nearby – there’d often be bits of rubbish and stuff that people had thrown away (though it’s not very nice to throw rubbish into the sea).
Many ships had come and gone from Ringsend and Irishtown over the years. Even that scoundrel Oliver Cromwell had landed his fleet there, so sometimes you could find old stuff like old coins, clay pipes, parts of ships, and other exciting treasures if you looked carefully.
Bits of glass would toss around in the water for years and years. The waves and the sand would wear down the sharp edges, and the bits of glass would be washed up on the shore. These bits came in all sorts of colours, and they looked like beautiful jewels dotted in blobs on the beach. You could pick them up, and they felt lovely in your hands.
They weren’t sharp at all except the odd time when a new piece of glass washed up. You had to be careful! That’s why people’s Mams or Dads weren’t too happy when their kids went picking up every little thing that washed up.
‘Be careful!’, they would say.
But unusually, on this particular beach, there weren’t that many sharp ones at all. It was as if someone had gone out and picked them all up and tidied them away. Maybe the people from the glass factory did it?
If you found a lemonade bottle, or two or three, and they weren’t broken, you could take them up to the corner shop and swap them for penny sweets! You had to keep a good eye out for them though, as everyone knew this and was on the lookout.
It was a great place to look for treasure, and also a great place to walk and get some air. Many people walked their dogs around there too. One such person was a character that the local kids called Mr Shh Shh.
Now, different kids would tell you stories about how Mr Shh Shh got his name. It was most likely a nickname you see, as the name Shh Shh would be very unusual as a real last name in Ireland. I’ve never heard it, anyway.
Some said he got the name because he never spoke at all. To anyone. In fact, he had a little Jack Russell dog, and no one had ever heard it bark either. In fact, no one knew the dog’s name, so it too got a nickname: Barko (which was a bit silly of course, because Barko never barked).
Now, other people said that Mr Shh Shh got his nickname because of the sound that his coat made when he walked. Mr Shh Shh wore a very long black leather coat, no matter what the weather, and when he walked the coat would go ‘shh–shh’.
But most kids knew the real reason why Mr Shh Shh got his nickname. Often, when kids were playing down by the bottle factory, they would see Mr Shh Shh out walking with Barko. He would bend down, pick something up from the beach, and put it in his pocket. He must have been looking for treasure too. On manys the day Mr Shh Shh would stop, look up and close his eyes, as if he was listening out for something. Or someone.
Of course, this made the kids curious. They would run over, and shout at Mr Shh Shh.
‘What are you listening to, Mister?’
‘What are you doing, Mister?’
‘Can Barko come play with us, Mister?’
Mr Shh Shh would open his eyes, as if someone had disturbed him, and say, ‘Shh! Shh!’
The kids would laugh, and keep talking to him.
‘Can Barko play with us, Mister? Please, Mister?’
Mr Shh Shh would often shake his head and let Barko off his leash to run off with the kids to play (Barko loved it!). And Mr Shh Shh would be left standing on the hill, his eyes closed again. Sometimes he’d stand like that for ages.
Now, one month a new kid came to town. His name was Séamus. He lived in Cork, but he was spending the summer in Dublin with his cousins, as his Mam was sick and needed to rest a bit. Séamus liked his new city and his new friends, and loved to go hunting for treasure down by the Glass Bottle Factory with them.
He saw Mr Shh Shh and asked his cousins who he was. They told him the story, and how he was a bit of a mystery man and how he never spoke. Séamus thought this was very strange.
‘Has no one asked him why he stands there with his eyes closed?’ he asked.
The kids looked around at each other, with puzzled looks on their faces. No, nobody had.
The next day when the kids saw Mr Shh Shh walking down again, they did their usual, ‘Mister, can we play with Barko, please?’
Again, Mr Shh Shh opened his eyes, said with a frown ‘Shh, Shh’, and let Barko off his leash. Most of the kids ran off to play with the little dog, but Séamus stayed behind.
‘What are you listening to, Mister?’ said Séamus.
Now Mr Shh Shh was just about to say ‘Shh, Shh’ Séamus, when he opened his eyes, and saw that Séamus was not teasing him, but genuinely asking a question. Séamus noticed that Mr Shh Shh seemed to have sad eyes, but he looked at Séamus and gave a smile.
It was a tiny smile but it was the first one that Séamus had seen him do. But Mr Shh Shh never answered the question. Instead, he clapped his hands, and sure enough, Barko came running over. Mr Shh Shh put Barko on his leash and started to walk off.
Now Séamus was even more curious than ever; he ran and got his two cousins Aoife and Eoin, and told them of his plan.
‘We’re going to follow him, come on!’
‘Who?’ said Aoife.
‘Mr Shh Shh – hurry!’
They stayed close, but far enough back so he wouldn’t notice them. They followed him at a good distance, down past the grass, and over to where the old warehouses were, down by the factory.
‘I think he works as a caretaker,’ said Eoin. ‘Maybe he’s just going to work?’
‘It’s a Sunday,’ said Séamus. ‘I think he’s up to something!’
The three cousins watched from a distance as Mr Shh Shh made his way down the path past big hedges to a gateway. He pulled out a big bunch of keys, opened the padlock of the gate, and walked in.
‘He’s left it open!’ said Aoife.
The kids followed him in through the gate, being very careful not to be seen.
Around the back of the big hedge was a very large warehouse. It must have been an old one that was used to keep things in years ago. It had huge windows up the side.
Mr Shh Shh took another key and opened the door with it. Very slowly, the kids walked up to the door. They could hear Mr Shh Shh moving around, but they could tell he was down the far end of the big warehouse.
‘Now’s our chance,’ said Séamus. ‘Come on!’
They snuck inside the door quickly and quietly, and hid behind a barrel. It was very dark. They could just about make out the shape of Mr Shh Shh over at the other side of the warehouse. Suddenly he turned and walked back towards where they were hiding!
Had he spotted them?
No. He noticed the door was open, and had walked over to bolt it shut. They were still behind the barrel. He hadn’t spotted them, but now they were trapped inside! Even if they could pull open that big bolt, he would hear them open it!
They watched, and could just about make out as Mr Shh Shh walked over with Barko to a huge window. He pulled a rope down, and the cloth over the huge window fell to the ground and
the light rushed in. Aoife, Eoin and Séamus were shocked at what they saw in front of them!
High in the ceiling of the warehouse were three wooden beams, and hanging from them were hundreds and hundreds of pieces of string. They were different lengths, and at the end of each one was a knot with a piece of glass tied to it! Some pieces of glass were sharp and jagged, others were full bottles, and in all different colours and sizes – all dangling in the air from the strings.
Mr Shh Shh walked over to the corner of the warehouse and pulled out what looked like two long thin sticks. And then didn’t he do the strangest thing – he began to ‘ching ching’ the sticks against the glass.
It was a gorgeous sound, like tiny bells, and piano keys, and little voices singing!
As he played the pieces of glass with the sticks, the glass moved around, and the reflection of the light through each one made designs of different colours and shapes dance on the wall and the floor. There was so much blue and green, it looked like Mr Shh Shh was playing the sea itself!
Eoin let out a loud gasp when he saw this. Mr Shh Shh stopped playing and turned suddenly.
‘Is there someone there?’, he shouted.
The kids covered their mouths and ducked down more, so they wouldn’t be seen. But next thing didn’t Barko run right over to where they were hiding. Sure wasn’t he only delighted to see his playmates? Mr Shh Shh could see them!
‘What are you doing here, children?’ This was the first time they had heard Mr Shh Shh speak this much. Ever!
He had an accent that was not from Dublin, not from Ireland, but somewhere else. The children looked at the two sticks in his hand.
‘Don’t hit us, Mister!’ cried Eoin, ‘We didn’t mean any harm!’
‘Hit you? Oh no,’ said Mr Shh Shh. ‘Oh dear children, no! Did ... did you hear the music?’
The three of them nodded cautiously.
‘Did you like it?’
They nodded again, this time a bit more.
Dublin Folk Tales for Children Page 2