The Killing of the Wren, A Solstice Offering?

The ‘wren boy’ tradition in Ireland (and the Isle of Man) is well known.
The story goes that the wren became the ‘King of the Birds’ after a contest where it managed to fly higher than all the other birds, including the eagle! It used its brains, rather than its brawn, to achieve this. 

Wrens are notoriously territorial. They make a distinctive sound when their territory is violated, and will fearlessly defend their resources! As well as being feisty, the wren is hugely fertile, producing up to 20 eggs in every brood and thus many off-spring.

Traditionally, in winter, groups of young men would hunt this tiny bird amongst the hedgerows, and then kill it around St Stephen’s Day. Then they would display its corpse on a ‘furze’ (a branch of whin/gorse) and take it round the houses, looking for money or gifts. The wren boys would sing or chant words to this effect:

‘The wren the wren the king of all birds, St. Stephen's day he was caught by the furze. Although he is small his family was great. Rise up good people and get us a treat’ 
https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/transcripts?SearchText=wren+furze&SearchLanguage=ga&Page=1&PerPage=20

If the ‘boys’ didn’t receive anything from the house-holder, they’d traditionally threaten or prank them. Obviously there are parallels here with the tradition of ‘trick or treating’ which now takes place at Halloween (around the Celtic festival of Samhain). Could this kind of ritualised ‘begging’ have been more commonplace in the past - at times when food was in short supply? 

In Sheila St Clair's book 'Folklore of the Ulster People' (1971) she explains: 
'In County Down the recollection of one man was that after they'd killed the wren 'They'd take him to a public house in Chapeltown, and have a drink and wee bit of a song over him. I heard them say they'd done it to kill the Devil'. I have never heard any other reason given. According to an old man in Rathfriland, County Down, it appears that it was considered most unlucky to kill a wren at any other time of the year. Only on St Stephen's Day might it be done with impunity'. 

Social media is often filled with posts describing (and re-imagining) the traditions of the 'Wren Boys' around this time of year. Folks reel out the tradition, seemingly (blessedly!) free of the need to understand its context. But where could such a dark tradition have originated? Why kill this beautiful, feisty little bird, when it’s only doing its best to survive winter amongst the bare hedgerows? 

My neurodiverse brain always seeks to understand… I don’t do it to be difficult (as my family once thought!), I do it because I am curious. I have a need to understand things and I struggle to blindly accept something without understanding *why*.
So, WHY did they call the wren the ‘King’ of the birds, and WHY did they kill it at this time of year and then parade it around for all to see? 

As a teller of stories, and a lover of archaeology, I have a theory and since this IS my blog (and no-one can disprove me as much as the archaeologists will ‘tut’*!), I am going to share that theory here. 

There are some things that we *know* have always happened in this country around this time of year:

• the sun reaches its weakest point in the sky, and we have the shortest day - the Winter Solstice,

• the plants don’t grow much,

• it’s cold and dark.

These things would surely have instilled great anxiety into our ancestors….
Winter is a time of lack, cold, darkness, and yes, death. 

So here are some of the other things that I have been turning around in my mind:

• the story of Finn and the Cailleach - where Finn (the embodiment the Sun snd of Kingship) is weakened and then re-invigorated by the Cailleach (the land goddess - see here: https://filicodown.wixsite.com/innerlandscapes/post/finn-and-the-callieach-slieve-gullion-knock-iveagh-a-possible-winter-solstice-alignment

• the theory of ‘Kingship and Sacrifice’ which postulates that Irish tribal kings may have been ritually slain by their own people if, perhaps, their harvests had failed or they had otherwise failed to please the territorial ‘land goddess’!
• Old Croghan Man - the deeply moving remains of a large man who was certainly noble and *may* have been a 'king' in County Offaly more than 2000 years ago. During his life he appears to have have eaten a diet high in protein (meat) and other rich foods, but he was seemingly ritually murdered following a final meal consisting of only buttermilk and cereals,

Now perhaps I’m weird, (scratch that, I know I’m weird!) but it seems pretty obvious to me that IF kings were seen (like Finn) as the human ‘embodiment’ of the Sun upon which the people depended, and which seems to weaken and ‘die’ every year at Solstice, then PERHAPS kingship was a contract that was revisited annually around this time of year… 

In days long ago, territories here were ruled by 'kings'. Like the wren, they would have been expected to defend their territory, and ensure the survival of their people. Perhaps, like the killing of the wren, the killing a king was something so geis (taboo) that it could only be done under very specific circumstances?
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In the world of freelance performers (where I have spent the last 30 years of my life), there is a saying: ‘You’re only as good as your last gig’. 
Now, if your reputation is solid, you might be allowed an ‘off day’, perhaps even more than one, but ultimately you’re replaceable! Whilst we no longer live in the Iron Age - it can still be a pretty brutal business!

Could this have been true for kings too? Might their contract have been reviewed annually? Perhaps they could be given a ‘pass’ for a few bad years, but if the crops failed and the land remained infertile WAS THEIR NUMBER UP?

So here’s my theory: Hunting the wren, the ‘king of the birds’, and then killing it - a tradition which survived and persisted here until at least the mid-C20th - was the last vestige of a much older, and much darker tradition. The killing of ‘failed’ leaders who didn’t please ‘herself’…

It might be dark, but in some ways it’s completely logical. Surely such a privileged position as King must come with some conditions…  Failed harvests, and bad luck meant that he wasn't performing well!

And so my thoughts naturally turn to the desecration of heritage sites, the poisoning of Loughs and indeed, the destruction of our natural world.  
​Perhaps the ancients had the right idea after all! ;) 

The King is dead - Long live the King!

A room dim like twilight, cocooned between soft walls,
light and shadows mingling, muffled voices, soft footfalls.

Some seem in a hurry with so much more to see,
just enough time for a quick selfie of 'the King and me'. 

Others taking longer, time for a closer look. 
Exchanging words about his passing, or the last meal he took...

Then I saw that our worlds had merged, as my reflection I could see,
and as our planes converged I wondered: ‘Who is more real, you or me?’

Yours the savage, 'pagan' life, mine the ‘civilised’. 
Yours a sacrifice to Gods unseen; ours in forfeit to a screen.

Your arms outstretched and full of grace, telling your tales in this liminal space.
A scrap of skin, but the king within.

*As my father’s boss once told him:  ‘archaeology isn’t a discipline, it’s a bloody massacre!’ 

Wishing you all a wonderful, peaceful holiday. 
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Thanks for reading! Please bear with me whilst I migrate the rest of my blog over onto this site. For now, if you'd like to read more you can do so here: https://filicodown.wixsite.com/innerlandscapes/blog