Spitting Pucas? Non-Wailing Banshees? Celtic Folklore’s Oddities

Irish folklore warns us not to eat bramble berries after Samhain because the Puca spits on them. But why does he do that?

Folklore is fun! Of course, I am partial to Celtic folklore. I grew up with it. Mostly from Ireland. I was fed on stories about my great-grandmother, Catherine Fallon, and her sister, Julia, contending with ghosts on trips to and from the outhouse at night. Also, my grandmother spoke with awe about the faeries on the hill, and my mother unintentionally terrified me with stories of the banshee. Then there were the things that, at the time, I didn’t even realize had Celtic roots.

For example, while other Christians talked about heaven as “up there,” my mother taught me heaven is all around us. The people we love who have passed on are always near us. We just can’t see them because of the veil that separates us. Now, this idea—which I fully embrace—is clearly recognizable to me as the Otherworld (except maybe without the faeries).

All right. That last example was a bit serious, but I mean for this post to be fun. I absolutely delight in the folklore of my ancestors (my DNA is 87% Irish and 13% Scottish highlander). The more I learn about the folklore, the more I love it.

But I also notice things that are odd, unexpected, or inconsistent. And that’s what today’s post is about. For example, many people picture faeries as beautiful butterfly-like beings, but, in Celtic folklore, there are faeries who look like pigs. No, really. I’m not making that up. Also, according to the lore, the mischievous shapeshifting Puca spits on berries after Samhan (the Celtic New Year). My question is “Why? Why does he do that?” The folklore does not provide an answer, but I have my theories. Okay. Ready? Let’s explore some questions and oddities about Celtic folklore.

Some Faeries Look Like Pigs? Really?   

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The answer, as I’ve already revealed, is yes! This seems strange. After all, most of us have been conditioned to picture faeries as beautiful winged beings. Of course, I have said many times in this blog that the majority of Celtic faeries do not have wings. Also, many appear in the form of animals, such as horses, cats, and even beavers! Some faeries, like selkies, kelpies, and the Puca, are shapeshifters. But pigs? This seems to run counter to the gracefulness usually associated with the fae. Nevertheless, here are two examples of pig or pig-like faeries.

The first example is the story of Niamh, the Pig-faced Princess. She lived in Tir na n’Óg (the Land of the Young). Her father was the king, but his kingship could be challenged every seven years. The challenge was settled by an uphill foot race to the throne. After many challenges, the king became worried that someone might eventually beat him. He consulted a druid who prophesied that only his son-in-law would replace him as king.

Niamh’s father rejoiced. Although his daughter was beautiful, she hadn’t married yet. So, he decided she never would. He ordered the druid to magically transform Niamh’s lovely face into that of a pig. Spoiler alert: She found a way to get married, and her husband took her father’s place on the throne. For the complete story, click here.

Admittedly, the first example is kind of a cheat because Niamh only took on a porcine form because of mean-spirited magic. However, my second pig-faerie example is authentically a faerie who only ever appears in pig form. He is called Arkan Sonney. Manx folklore says that it is a good omen just to see this white pig. If you catch it (and, by the way, good luck with that), a silver coin will appear in your pocket.

So, there you have it. Ignore the stereotypes. Celtic faeries can appear in unexpected forms.

Celtic Vampires

Be careful in Wales. That enchanting woman in a green dress dancing in the woods may not be a faerie. She may be a Celtic vampire!

Faeries aren’t alone in Celtic folklore. Ghosts have a major presence, too!  Vampires? Not so much. In fact, they’re hard to find—but they’re not altogether absent either! Here are two of the most famous.

Daerg Dhu, like Niamh, was a beautiful young woman with a rotten father. She fell in love with a peasant. Her father refused to let her marry her beloved. Instead, he married her off to a man who treated her so cruelly, she finally killed herself.

But she came back—with a vengeance. First, she found her husband and sucked all the blood out of him. Then she went to her father and did the same. But she wasn’t finished. Each year, she arose from her grave and, still appearing beautiful, seduced men, then drained them of their blood. Finally, stones were piled on her grave, and her attacks ended.

Baobhan Sith hangs out in Welsh forests. She preys on hunters, tracking them by the scent of blood on their clothes. Appearing to the hunter as a beautiful woman in a green dress, she entices him to dance with her. They dance until he collapses from exhaustion. Then her fingernails turn into talons. She rips the man’s chest open and drinks his blood until he’s drained dry.

     A bit gruesome, I know. Call the banshee! Wait. Banshees are Irish, so that won't help. Just stay out of the woods--and don't dance with strangers!

Banshees Don’t Always Wail. Sometimes They Knock.

Banshees are among my favorite faeries. They are so compassionate! Surprised? Check out my post “Scary Faeries of Celtic Folklore” for the short-version of why I think they’re tender-hearted. Or read my “The Banshee and the Blarney Stone” story to discover how helpful banshees can be—if they like you.

Don't pick up a silver comb lying on the ground. It might belong to a banshee--and you don't want her to come look for it!

Although the banshee’s wail is a famous bit of Irish folklore, I heard about banshees long before I heard about that signal of impending doom. When I was a child, my mother told me that the sound of three unexplained knocks in the house was the banshee warning of a death in the family. She never said a word about wailing. It turns out there’s a good reason. Her grandmother, who came from Co. Leitrim, Ireland, passed this folklore down to her. And in Co. Leitrim, banshees don’t wail. They knock.

The way a banshee communicates her ominous message depends on the part of Ireland. In County Leitrim and nearby (e.g., Co. Offaly), the banshee’s warning comes, as I said, in the form of three knocks—on wood, on a window, or on a wall.

Years ago, I was staying in my sister and brother-in-law’s house while they were on a trip. Around 1 or 2 in the morning, I heard three knocks on the wall that separated my bedroom from my brother-in-law’s office. Immediately, my mother’s words came back to me. My rational mind tried to stay calm. I got up, went into the office, and tried to determine a reasonable cause. I found none. I didn’t get any more sleep that night, but at least no one (to the best of my knowledge) died.

In County Mayo, the banshee’s warning is a bird tapping on the window. However, if you’re in Co. Clare, the banshee will knock wooden boards together.

Some banshees like to be quiet about it. In County Tipperary, it’s a bad omen to find a comb mysteriously lying on the ground. It’s never a good idea to pick the comb up, especially if it’s silver. According to the Tipperary folklore, when you pick up the comb, you’re inviting the banshee’s visit!

The Banshee’s Friend

According to Yeats, banshees are solitary faeries. Sometimes, however, the banshee brings a friend. You don’t want to meet him! It is said that the banshee’s wail summons the Dullahan, one of the scariest faeries in Irish folklore.

Sometimes the banshee brings a friend. You don't want to meet him!

A combination of the Grim Reaper and the Headless Horseman, this faerie, caped and dressed all in black, carries his glowing head like a lantern. He rides a dark horse that snorts flames and spurs the horse on with a whip made of a human spine. Sometimes (maybe in cold weather), he rides inside the coiste bodhar, the Death Coach. People run to open gates to let the Death Coach pass through. This, however, is risky. If you even opened the front door, the Dullahan may throw a bucket of blood in your face. But perhaps it’s worth the risk. You don’t want the coach to stop. Wherever the Dullahan stops, someone will die. I hope you’re not reading this at night! Sorry. Forget about the Dullahan and dream of the Puca.

Why Does the Puca Spit on Berries?

Celtic folklore says you shouldn’t eat bramble berries (some sources say blueberries) after Samhain (November 1^st) because the Puca spits on them. What I want to know is why? What does he have against berries? And why does he only display this behavior after Samhain? Does he like berries the rest of the year?

Folklore provides no answer to my questions. Some sources claim he does it to mark the berries as his. Since harvest season is officially over by Samhain, maybe he wants to ensure a winter food supply for himself? I find this answer quite unsatisfying. Think about it. Would you  want to eat food you previously spat on? Besides, the lore says that the berries go bad after he spits on them.

No. This feels visceral. I’m sensing contempt and/or hostility. Maybe a past love made him a bramble berry pie to celebrate the feast of Samhain. But it was all a ploy. Maybe his distraction while enjoying the pie enabled Beira, the Scottish goddess of winter, to capture him. She then forced him to work as a gesture in her court until he escaped.

By the way, what's up with those leprechauns and their gold-hoarding? A question for next time.

Or perhaps he once, on the feast of Samhain, got terribly sick from eating a bushel of the berries. Each year, he’s reminded of that awful experience and says, “No, not this year!” Then he spits.

Whatever happened, it was traumatic.

If you’re not familiar with the shapeshifting, mischievous Puca, you can learn more about him here.

Other Musings

     But there's so much more to wonder about/ For example, you may have heard of Rhiannon, Welsh folklore's super-intriguing enchantress-on-a-white-horse. At the beginning of her story, she’s calm, confident, and entirely in control. In the end, she turns into a submissive, contrite, good little wifey. That’s always bothered me. The ending is jarring, like it was mandated, then cut and pasted on. (And it might have been.) Also, I have to ask what’s up with leprechauns and their gold hoarding? Are they saving up for emergencies, or are they just avaricious?  Then there are the Celtic domestic faeries, such as brownies and grogachs. Why do they respond so badly (I mean, like go ballistic!) when given a gift of clothes? In the next post, during Thanksgiving week, I'll dive into those questions and more!

In the meantime, enjoy the autumn chill and be careful of bad berries!

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All artwork for this post (except for the Ukranian flag and the GIF) by Christine Dorman via Bing Image Creator.

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