Leprechauns: Fact or Fiction?

I recently took one of those Critter & Me DNA tests. I was surprised to learn that the old family stories were true. One of my distant ancestors came over the Atlantic from Ireland to escape the Guinness Seed famine in the 1800s. I checked the Ellis Island records, and found a Twitchell McChippy listed as a stowaway. He hailed from County Roscommon. According to family legend, he arrived with only five peanuts in his cheek pouches. He went on to become a successful seed trader, and was one of the founding critters of the Woodpile.

I have been able to verify the more pertinent facts of the family history but some of the old stories sound like they came straight out of Irish’munk mythology! Take for example, one of the favorite family legends told every St. Patrick’s Day: Ye olde Ireland was home to some solitary and mischievous fairies called leprechauns.  They the had the face of  a human, a red furry beard as thick as a chipmunk’s tail, and they were never seen without their green hats. They earned a living by mending shoes and enjoyed tending their clover gardens. Being rather shy, they tended to hide from people and creatures alike. Rumor has it, if you capture a leprechaun they would bargain for their freedom by showing you the dancing sunflower seeds they keep in their pockets and gift you with a magical giant seed. The giant seed will bring a critter more wealth than a pot of gold. Many have tried to capture them only to become a victim of their practical jokes. Supposedly, great-great-great grandfather Twitchell was the last creature to successfully capture a leprechaun. As proof of this great feat, the family displays a scrap of parchment with some fading ink. It reads “Beware of the price of the leprechaun and his magical giant seed.”

It is a great story and the kids always enjoy it. Funny thing, I was cleaning out a closet and found an old wooden trunk full of family papers. Amongst them was a map in the same faded ink as the scrap of parchment. Scribbled on it,  was “Trail to leprechaun house.” The starting point was the Bushy Tail Pub. I googled it, the pub still exists! I know the story is just a myth but imagine finding a magical giant sunflower seed. I would be the envy of critter gardeners everywhere and rich too! What the heck, I booked a flight to Ireland and caught an Uber ride to the pub. If I am wrong then I get to disprove an old family legend.

From the pub I set off over the fields following the map. I had to avoid being trampled by sheep and plowed under by a tractor. At the edge of known civilization the map lead me into eerie unexplored woods. I wandered around for what seem like days, my supply of snack dwindling to nothing. I was lost and on the verge of starvation. [Editor’s note: it was about three hours and a hundred yards from the nearest farm house]. I climbed onto a brick for a better view. Suddenly, I felt something tickling me behind the ears. I slowly turned around and was nearly blinded by the bright white light.

Yikes! They really do exist. 

The leprechaun laughed and took off at a fast pace. I raced after him and caught him just as he was about to leap off a log. He conceded that I had captured him and asked me if I wanted to see some dancing sunflower seeds.

After of a hour of tedious bargaining, the leprechaun finally agreed to give me a magical giant seed in exchange for his freedom. He planted it in the soil and it came up almost instantly.  I expected a giant sunflower plant. “What! I have been trick. This magical giant seed only grows into a three leaf clover. Not even a lucky four leaf clover.”

With a twinkle in his eye and a look of mischievous pleasure, he twirled his lucky shamrock and turned me into a leprechaun.  The spell lasted 36 hours. I spent my time wisely playing tricks on the local farmers.

On the flight home to the Woodpile, I got an emergency alert on his smart phone “CCDC (Chipmunk Center for Disease Control) has determined that chipmunks are susceptible to the Corona virus. International travel to Europe is not recommended.” So much for the “luck of Irish.”

TO BE CONTINUED (hopefully …)