Welcome to my weekly blog,  SATURDAY SESSIONS!

In this blog, for the perusal of all our students, past, present and future, I include an extract from our interactive presentation Course, Ireland and its Culture.

If you wish to ask me any question about the text, by the way, just send me an e-mail at greg@bluefeather.ie  !

The wren is the smallest bird in Ireland but certainly in terms of volume, this songbird is no wallflower!   Here's a haiku from the  ET logbook:                                                                              

The size of a mushroom;
Prima donna of the garden,
The wren.

It is also the king of all birds. On St. Stephen's Day (26th December), the Wren Boys would take to the streets in Ireland going from house to house chanting:

The wren, the wren, the king of all birds,
St Stephen's Day was caught in the furze...etc.

This chant was a reference to the martyrdom of the Christian, Stephen, by the Romans. Apparently, Stephen was hiding in a bush where he startled a wren who flew out of the bush and alerted the Romans who had been searching for him. The chant of the Wren Boys was a ritual hunting of the wren, in revenge for revealing the hiding place of Stephen. (Poor wren! )

There is a similar tradition in Galicia, first recorded in the 15th century. There's also one in the south of France.

But how did such a tiny bird succeed in becoming King? Surely the Golden Eagle of Donegal should be the king of all the birds in Ireland?

Adapted from Aesop and adopted in Ireland, the story goes that long ago, all the birds of Ireland gathered together to see who could fly the highest. Magpies, robins, crows, jackdaws, rooks, ravens, sparrows, blackbirds, thrushes, finches, swallows, swifts, seagulls, and many many more species of birds flocked to take part in the championship.

Among them were the giant Donegal Golden Eagles. And, of course, the wren. But just before the race began, the little wren tucked himself into the plumage of the largest of the eagles who never noticed it.

Up, up into the air they soared, higher and higher, until only the largest eagle remained high up above the clouds. All the other birds had dropped down again out of breath and exhausted.

The tiring eagle had now flown as high as he could go and screeched down to tell the flock that he was the King.

But then, suddenly, the little wren popped out and flew above the eagle, twittering away merrily.

All the birds saw this from below and proclaimed the wren the King of All Birds.

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