Category Archives: Scotland

34 – Wolves and Wulvers

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Wolves.

Majestic, powerful, intelligent, deadly Shapeshifting creatures who once roamed freely in the forests of Ireland… wait, what?

Shapeshifters?

Well, maybe.

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We ponder: is a Wolf always a Wolf?

Could they be, sometimes at least, the Good People in disguise?

Kitty takes a look at a few recorded accounts of encounters with creatures we call Wolves and wonders why the Good People might appear to us in Wolves clothing.

 

 

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We also ask:

what is a creature, half man, half wolf and no part werewolf?

A Wulver of course.

We get to know the lonely, and truly lovely, Wulver of Scotland.

His hobbies include: fishing, being outdoors and offering random acts of kindness.

 

Kitty reminds you that it’s not only okay to believe in the Good People, but knowing them could make you a better person!

To access a 30 day free membership, including free audiobook, go to http://www.audibletrial.com/kitty    (For North American listeners, or those using a U.S. IP address)

For loads more Good People chat visit Kitty at…

http://www.facebook.com/encounterswiththegoodpeople
http://www.instagram.com/encounterswiththegoodpeople
http://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZISzueo7YXNPwowda2p0zQ/featured

Podcast Credits:
Edited by: Magic Dan
Farley Mowat quotes from ‘Never Cry Wolf’. Read by Zed. http://www.fiverr.com/zornaph
Theme Music: ‘Irish Coffee’ by Giorgio Di Campo
Additional Music: ‘Wolf Blood’ by Adrian von Ziegler
‘Ancient Storm’ by Adrian von Ziegler
‘Atmospheres’ by Adrian von Ziegler
‘Heartbreaking’ by Kevin Macleod
‘Hidden Past’ by Kevin Macleod

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26 – Glastig

scotland highlands

 

The Glastig, also known as the Green Lady, is long known to dwell in the Scottish Highlands and long speculated to have once been a mortal woman.

But, did she join the Good People by choice, or was she stolen away from her bed?

Either way, her days and nights are filled with protecting highland livestock and when the spirit takes her, caring for young children, old folk, and other weak minded or weak bodied mortals.

At first glance, she appears an altogether altruistic Faerie.

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So why do we fear her?

Why does her presence in a community cause such dread among farmers and hunters?

Is it because she has the lower body of a goat? Or is it her penchant for drinking blood?

Join Kitty to find out.

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As always, Kitty encourages keeping an open mind and reminds you it’s okay to believe in the Good People.

Read more stories of encounters with the Good People, share your own story of an encounter or perhaps one handed down through your family at:

bothy scotland
Highland Bothy

www.faerieofireland.com

and contact Kitty at:

www.glassonionstories@gmail.com

For lots of Faerie ideas, insights, facts and fun, be sure to check in daily at Kitty’s Facebook and Instagram pages.

www.facebook.com/encounterswiththegoodpeople and www.instagram.com/encounterswiththegoodpeople

Credits:

Tales from ‘Folk tales and Fairy lore – collected from oral tradition’ by Rev James Macdougall. Published in 1910.

Read by Zed. www.fiverr.com/zornaph
Read by Simone. www.fiverr.com/simonelow
Theme Music: ‘Irish Coffee’ by Giorgio Di Campo.
Additional Music: ‘Hidden Past’ by Kevin McLeod
‘Down the Rabbit Hole’ by myuu.
‘Land of the Free’ by Adrian von Zeigler
‘Fiddles McGinty’ by Kevin McLeod.

West Scotland Silkie

This is such a curious tale. I’m so pleased that the story of the ‘Portrush Selkie’, here in this collection, served to remind Em from Belfast of this story about her Granny. And that she shared it with us!!! – Kitty.

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I was reading the post about the ‘Portrush Selkie’ and it reminded me of something.

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Years ago, I would have been in my early twenties, my aunt and I were going through my Granny’s things after she passed.

She used to wear this old overcoat and floppy hat, every day (whenever I see that show Vera I laugh coz she reminds me of my Granny), she’d go out walking along the coast road or along the shoreline in that hat and coat.

In the pocket of the overcoat was a small tatty notebook and worn down pencil.

And inside the notebook were loads of this scribbling.

It took me a minute to figure out her writing but turned out she was keeping a sort of log of sightings she was making of what she called a Silkie.

The notes went back a bit, about 5 years before she died but stopped about 6 months before she died. I suppose that was when she stopped walking.

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She made comments about where she saw the Silkie, what the weather was like on the day, how many people were about and what it was doing and what mood she thought it was in!

You know like, happy, melancholy, playful, agitated. She even wrote ‘aroused’ in one entry.

(Don’t ask me how she knew it was aroused.)

Seems like most of the sightings were on or around this outcrop of black rocks. I know the place. black rocks

It has this broad overhang over the rocks and not a cave as such but a sort of nook in it. I’m in Ireland now, and this on the west coast of Scotland.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot since reading the story of the Portrush Selkie. I  might even go up there for a visit.

Anyhow, my Aunt was really interested in the notebook too and ended up taking it with her. I wish now i’d asked to keep it.

I was wondering if anyone else has heard of a Silkie on the west coast of Scotland?

Em – Belfast.

If you, or someone you know, has any knowledge of Silkie dwelling on the west coast of Scotland, please let us know. I’m sure many of us would be very curious for any information or photos of the area Em’s Granny took her walks…

 

 

Encounter with Scottish Forest Faerie

I hope you enjoy this incredibly vivid account of an encounter in a dark, wet Scottish forest. In all honesty, I’m not sure I would have remained as composed as Kelly. I find it particularly interesting that the Faerie seemed to ‘test’ Kelly, and appreciate her feisty nature. – Kitty.

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I was living in my car at this time, my partner lived in his. We both had one dog each with us, but we were freezing cold and struggling to cope with the elements.

We were temporarily homeless and had nowhere else to go. On this particular night we were on the beach at Oban.

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Oban, Scotland.

The wind was strong and it was below freezing. My partner suggested we go to the forest. It was a place he often camped in, and he had left a small tent in a secret location there, it was his emergency home.

I agreed to spend the night in the tent, because I needed to lay down flat, and my car was too small to sleep in and relax.scot forest logs

The forest itself was on an incline. The ground was very muddy and slippery. We only had the moonlight to help us navigate our way up through the trees. I had to climb over fallen trees and crawl under the low laying ones. I was not in a good mood.

We found the tent and it was in a state of disrepair. The front zip had broken and the inner bedroom compartment zip only went down half way. So this made the tent colder than usual.

I complained constantly about our plight, while the wind whistled round the tent and the cold froze my fingers and toes.

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I bought a mat and a sleeping bag to lay on, but as soon as I got in the sleeping bag, that is when the rain started. It poured down and soon the tent floor was soaking, which in turn saturated my sleeping bag. By now, I was a snivelling wreck.

I just sat crying and feeling sorry for myself suddenly, two men started talking to each other at the back of the tent. I could hear them as clear as anything. They sounded like they were having a normal day to day chat but I could not make out any of their words, even though I felt it was familiar, like English.

The chat seem to last some time, possibly about half an hour. During this time I tried to think of any possible reason why, or how, anyone had found this actual spot, that was well hidden from the public, and why they should be stood chatting in a storm.

The chat ended. After a few moments I heard the sound of heavy foot prints walk around the tent, crunching sticks under foot. My heart was pounding in fear, because we were so vulnerable.

Suddenly something hit the tent, it hit it so hard the canvas came inwards towards me. This happened 3 times. It was as if someone was using a heavy stick to strike the tent. My heart was beating so fast, I could barely speak. The dogs started barking and jumping around. Then silence.

I was now so distressed I was on my knees rocking backwards and forwards. I hadn’t slept for nights, and I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and tried to lull myself to sleep.

tent in rain

That is when I heard the music. It was coming from further up the forest. There was no housing up there, or anywhere a band could play. Yet, it sounded like a band was starting. I heard a rich, male voice start to sing out in to the wind. I could not make out the words, but he sounded like a young man.

violin

The violins sounded out, yet they were not violins. The instruments where familiar, yet nothing I had heard of in my day to day life.

The music got louder and louder and it was like a party was starting. I heard lots of voices start to join in. It gave me comfort, but it intrigued me so much, because I wanted to know how and why anyone would want to party in a storm, in the middle of winter, in a cold, muddy forest. It made no sense.

I still had my eyes closed, but now I “saw” all these faces coming towards me, mocking me, teasing me, trying to scare me. Some were hideous and frightening, some human like and handsome. The one I recall the most was the young man. I somehow linked his face to the voice that was singing. He had a mop of dark curly hair and beautiful green eyes, he looked Irish to me, he was the one with the cheeky smile.

I was so infuriated by my plight that I had no time for fear now. So the scary faces that growled at me, I swore at, and told them to back off. Their expressions changed. Some looked bemused, one looked shocked. Then suddenly, it was if they thought “who the hell is this woman?”, and they softened up towards me. I honestly felt like they came to ward me off, and some came to welcome me, but in the end, it was like a general acceptance. I really believed at this point that I was in THEIR forest, and that they had decided I could stay.

I spoke in my mind to the faces and their expressions is where I got their answers. I asked them if I should leave my partner, because I blamed him for out plight, and one laughed, the other looked confused, and the other face rolled its eyes! In other words, “it was none of their business!”

So they disappeared. That is when the wind picked up, and started to whistle through the trees. I could not believe what I was hearing, it was like the trees where singing! It was so beautiful, it hypnotised me. I felt like I should leave the tent and follow the sound, and go and join the fairies, but at this point, my partner told me to stay inside. It was like I was been lulled out of the tent.

I stayed put and then suddenly the wind died down, then the rain stopped.

That is when the ball of light came bouncing in to the tent. It was like a purple, lit up bouncy ball. It came in and knocked things over. There was no explanation for what it was. The dogs went insane and started barking at it at running towards it. I was sat opened mouthed in absolute wonder.

It bounced out of the tent and disappeared.

That is when I fell asleep.

The next morning I asked my partner if he saw or heard anything, to which he replied, “Congratulations Fallbrook, you met the fairies”.

rainbow after storm

We got a job soon after and moved into a park. During the coming winter when the season ended, they came back to see me twice. Both times they struck the caravan three times! I knew it was them. I called out “hello”.

I believe the fairies are like people. You get the good, the bad, and the ugly. I think they saw my distress, and some wanted to help me, while others wanted to scare me out of their forest, but they came around because I am strong spirited. I see them as my friends.

I try to protect the forest, because I believe it is their home. I also think that when I go to other places on the west coast of Scotland, they recognise me.

They are hidden, but real. I love them. I hope to meet them again and talk to them. I just hope that my circumstances are nicer than the last time.

I did meet them again, but that is another story.

I swear my story is true. I really did see them, and hear them. My dogs saw them. They see us, but it is hard for us to see them. I believe that you need the second sight to see them.

Kelly Fallbrook – Scotland.

The Red Fox

This happened 18 months ago. My husband and I woke early to visit my Mother at the retirement home as she was poorly with flu.

While my husband made tea, I pulled the curtains back in our sunroom which opens out to the garden.

Stood there, just a few yards from the glass door was a red fox, staring at me, with a wee branch from a Rowan Tree in its mouth. The branch had no leaves, but an abundance of red berries.

I stood perfectly still as we stared at each other and quietly called to my husband to come and see for himself, for I knew well enough he would never believe me if he hadn’t seen it himself.

When my husband entered the room, the fox stepped forward and gently lay the Rowan branch upon the grass close to the door. All the while it never took its eye from mine.

red-fox-in-the-wild-free images (2)

The telephone rang and the red fox turned and scarpered away.

The caller was from the retirement home to tell us my dear Mother had passed away during the night.

I knew immediately, and without a doubt, that the red fox was delivering a message. The Rowan Tree signifies courage, wisdom and protection, and it was a message from my Mother.

Heather – near Aberdeen.

Faerie Muse?

my-guitar

I don’t know if this is really Faerie related or not but I’ll tell you anyway.

You know they say that some people have been ‘touched’ by the Wee Folk? Well I’ve often wondered if I saw it in action.

I’ve been to loads of concerts and seen Christy Moore many times, solo, with Sinnot, Lunny and Planxty too, and every performance was memorable but there was this one time something happened I’ll never forget.

It was a normal rowdy crowd, a few hundred, half-torn and well up for the night. Moore walks out on stage, unassuming as always, with his guitar in hand, and I swear, the air was sucked out of the whole room.

The crowd to a one, gasped, as though God or William Wallace or a wailing Banshee herself had walked on stage.

And so they were, mesmerized and silent for a good 7 seconds and he looked more than a wee surprised himself. Of course, he kicked in some banter and the crowd breathed again, all at once. Yelling and clapping began and the night took off, but what had happened was, well the best word I can use is ‘unnatural’.

No offence to Christy but he’s an ordinary looking fella, so it wasn’t his looks took our collective breath away. I’ve often wondered what the hell happened that night.

So, if you believe the Wee Folk occasionally act as muse and single out a Human for special attention, maybe take a closer look at Christy Moore.

Grant – Glasgow

Edinburgh Orb

This is a story from Scotland but I figure Scottish and Irish Faeries are like cousins, right? So I’ll tell you anyway.

edinburgh-skyline-free
 

Edinburgh

 

One night, not so long ago, me and a mate booked into a hotel in Edinburgh. We were in town to watch the Hibernian v Dundee game at Easter Stadium and didn’t fancy the drive home after, you know. The game wasn’t worth writing about (nil all draw) and we hit the town after.

So the boozer closed and we were well soused and found a van for a bite to eat and set off for the hotel. For the life of us, we couldn’t remember the name of our hotel or where it was. So we started walking and ended up in Holyrood Park, miles from the stadium.

We were sobering up and thinking of sleeping in the park when a circular light like an orb, appeared about 20 feet from us. The light alternated between white and green.

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Of course, we followed it and followed it, for we had no other thing to do, but no matter how fast we walked, or ran, it always stayed 20 feet ahead of us. We couldn’t catch it and couldn’t see anything surrounding it. It’s hard to describe, but the orb didn’t light up the space around it, just itself.

So we followed the orb until it stopped still in front of a gate. It was only then we caught up and saw it. Only it wasn’t an orb, but a small fellow, maybe four foot tall, with very dark, wrinkled skin and a big head, stood there smiling. He tipped his hat and said “Cheerio” and was gone. We were standing in front of our hotel, and sober.

James – Falkirk, Scotland