Colm O'Regan: Leave the fairy trees alone — a light trim will do
Colm O'Regan: 'In case you are living under a rock, which some fairies do actually, the fairies are said to be the Tuatha De Danann who were driven underground by us, the Gaels who bulldozed through their lands without planning permission.' Picture: iStock.
There was a post in one of the 4,000 procrastination tools I use every day — the niche Facebook groups. I know the young aren’t on Facebook anymore and that’s grand. They’d only be ruining things, asking questions like why are there 32,000 people in the Bathtubs In Fields Appreciation Group. Hush child.
This time, the post was in either Hedgerows of Ireland, Ireland’s Wild Birds and Animals, or maybe in the bathtubs one.
Someone was furious that a fella was chopping a hawthorn tree in full bloom on a ditch. (It is still not clear to me why people mangle the hedgerows so much. I know a tasty man who could give you a haircut with his hedge cutter. It’s possible to trim without destroying.) Everyone was up in arms.
I joined in claiming “the fairies have his photo now anyway”. And then someone corrected me that actually a fairy bush is one in the middle of a field and they are not as bothered by the ones on the ditches. Fairy nuff. It’s important to get this stuff right.
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What struck me was how easily I slipped into the mode of hoping the fairies would punish him. I’m not even going to say publicly whether I believe they exist or not, just in case they do and sour the milk here. I would definitely hedge my bets by leaving the hedges alone.
In case you are living under a rock, which some fairies do actually, the fairies are said to be the Tuatha De Danann who were driven underground by us, the Gaels, who bulldozed through their lands without planning permission. They’re not Tinkerbell; the proper name is Sidhe and they ain’t playing.
Especially if you break the gates, which are the fairy bushes. It’s a piseog — a superstition, folk curse, or charm — like the number of magpies. There are hundreds of them. Specific to different areas and different times of year. Everyone used to believe in them before because they explained disease, oddness, bad luck, weather. It made perfect sense when nothing else made sense.
What’s interesting is not that people used to believe these things. Of course they did. In a world without antibiotics or weather forecasting or adequate nutrition, you worked with what you had. When a cow sickened for no visible reason, the theory that a neighbour’s envy had poisoned her was no more improbable than germ theory, which was also invisible.
Piseogs were a rational response to an uncertain world.
What’s interesting is that after all the science and explanations, many of us still believe in them in some shape or form. Some overtly — the kind of people on Instagram who say they are ‘empaths’ and are channelling the Tuatha de Danann and you can too with this €100 course. Others sort of quietly, just in case-edly.
There’s a philosophical term for holding two contradictory beliefs at once: Cognitive dissonance. But that feels a bit negative. I’m very happy hoping the person who cuts a fairy bush gets pustular boils.
It’s like we’re operating on another level. This is the system for dealing with shit that just happens. The shower that spoils a wedding has a perfectly rational explanation, but it’s too complicated to understand.
If a child of Prague makes a difference, why not? These are gestures that live below the threshold of belief. They’re not claims about how the world works. They’re something closer to manners.
Now, within reason, of course. Don’t be turning around just because you met a red-headed woman. She’s your boss and it’s annual review time.
But still. Leave the fecking fairy trees alone. Wherever they are. A light trim will do.
