The Pooka
The pooka comes out at night, sometimes as an
eagle
flinging a man on his back and flying to the
moon.
Sometimes it's a black goat with wide wicked
horns
leaping on a mortal's shoulders and clinging with
it's
claws until the man drops dead or blesses himself
three
times. It is a bird, a bat, a donkey, a solitary
nightmare shape.
Most often it appears as a terrible black horse,
huge
and sleek, breathing blue flames, with eyes of
yellow
fire, a snort like thunder, a smell like sulfur,
a
stride that clears mountains and a human voice
deep as
a cave. With a sound sometimes like the head-on
crashing of trains, sometimes like the ripping of
trees
from the earth, it haunts rivers and frightens
fishermen and sailors so much so, that they are
fearful
of approaching land. Sometimes it follows the
ships to
sea. Often at night, as the black horse, the
pooka will
take a man for a ride clear around the country at
breakneck speed until he loses his grip and flies
headlong into a bog ditch.
Yet for all its black deeds, the pooka now is a
tame
creature compared to what it was before Brian
Boru
curbed it. In ancient days the pooka was lord
over all
that went forth after dark, except those on
missions of
mercy. All roads belonged to it; and few who
traveled
them lived to tell. For the pooka kicked hard
enough to
crush human bones and could lift a man like an
empty
sack onto its back and jump with him into the
sea, so
deep that he drowned. Other times it sprang over
a
cliff and let the man tumble to the bottom.
But Brian Boru tamed it with a charm made from
three
hairs from a pooka's tail and thrown round its
neck
like a bridle. At the first pull, the hairs were
transformed into threads of steel. Crossing
himself and
mounting, he fiercely reined the beast and rode
it
until it heaved with exhaustion and promised
never to
kill another man.
Since then it takes only drunkards on its madcap
ridings and always returns them to the ditch
where it
found them, no worse for some bruises and a
drunken
tale.
When it rains with the sun shining that means that it will be out that night. When berries are killed by frost it is the pooka's spit which is upon them and they shouldn't be eaten.
The Will-O'-The-Wisps, or fairy lights, are quiet and helpful. They appear in the misty Irish mountains to help searchers to locate someone lost in a ravine or drowned in a rocky pool. It's said that those who can see the lights have the gift of knowing when their closet of kin are in danger.
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