Tales of Old Ireland

Hello, this story is based on my experiences in Gowran, Co. Kilkenny when I was about 12 years old. The "hide and seek" took place in the 1940's when there were no cars in Ireland(except for the priest, the doctor and the local military commander). We had the wooded estate, the old church that was once catholic but had been confiscated during the days of the Penal Laws, the Fair Green where farmers marketed their goods, and politicians sold their lies. It was a wonderful childhood environment but of course it had its enmities and rivalries, the stuff of personality formation. Enjoy its simplicity.


"The Perfect Hiding Place" published in Hodgepodge, won the "1997 Writing for Children Contest Sponsored by Goodin Williams and Goodwin Literary Associates".


THE PERFECT HIDING PLACE

Thirty kids stood in the village square ready to play hide and seek or fox and hounds as we called it. I was twelve and it was my first time to play the fox. No one knew what I was going to do, not even my sister, and I always told her everything.
Surrounded by his pack of “hounds”, big Harry Hogan taunted me. “We’ll get you, too, just like your brother.” Harry had never been caught. “Are you ready?” He shouted..
I ran up the main road past the old courthouse. Once out of sight, I climbed over a wall and doubled back through an orchard. I took no notice of the ripe pears and apples. Soon I was in Mr. Farrell’s farmyard not far from the square. Earlier in the day I had left the tiny red door high up on the back wall of the bull’s house slightly ajar. Now I found a foothold in the granite tone wall and with my fingers in a crevice, pulled myself up.
From the distance I heard Hogan urge on the crowd. “Tally Ho! Tally Ho! The fifteen
minutes are up!”
A big cheer filled the square, and the hounds were off!
I closed the door firmly, and crawled through the darkness across the straw-covered floor
of the loft toward the light. Reaching the edge of the loft I peeped over. Below me the big Hereford bull raised his head. He had heard me.
Mr. Farrell had tied a thick board to the bull’s horns to limit his view. He contorted his neck to see around the board. The white of one eye glared at me and he backed up to an iron gate that led to the barnyard. His head swayed back and forth. I stared at the flared nostrils, all moist, red and ugly from the ring that secured a heavy chain. I quietly withdrew.
Settling into a dark corner, I recalled how I had found this special place. I was walking through the yard one day and heard the loud cackle of the hen that had laid her egg in the loft. She came to the little door and flew to the ground. The thought made me giggle, but then I heard a dog bark. It was Harry Hogan’s Alsatian! He was using Pete to track me! I had often thrown a ball for him, but now he was barking outside my lair. He knew! Hogan’s pack came to the gate.
Digging my special marble out of my trouser pocket I tossed it at the bull striking him in the flank. He began to twist and turn crashing his head against the iron gate. The board tied to his horns gave a loud crack. Raising his nose in the air, he released a deep sound that ended with an angry snort. The dog barked even louder. The bull roared again. The chickens ran from their nesting places.
“Come away. Come away!” Peggy Quinn called out, her voice filled with fear.
Then I heard Mr. Farrell. “Get away from there! Get away from that crazy bull!”
Harry Hogan backed off. “Let’s go everybody. No one would dare get in a stall with that bull.”
As they moved away I heard the awe in Peggy’s voice. ”Did you see that big eye?” Soon there was silence.
I began to relax and ate some candy. They caught my brother three times, I thought to myself. One summer he had climbed the highest oak tree. Now I knew how Harry found him. That dog picked up his trail. I listened to the wind as it lifted the branches on the trees and brushed the dead leaves along the galvanized roof above. The bull was quiet and merely pawed the cobblestones with his hoof. There was fresh hay in the feed bin. It smelled good. I could hear little sounds in the straw. I fell asleep.
Waking up, I heard the slow swish of the bull’s tail. The loft seemed darker. I crept over to the little door and pushed it open. Not a sound. The sun was setting. It was safe. I jumped to the soft earth below.
The kids, all but Harry that is were in the square. When they saw me they cheered and opened a corridor to let me pass through to my house.
When I walked in the kitchen door Mom was at the stove turning the eggs, “I knew you wouldn’t be late for supper!” She spoke without turning round.
I sat down quietly in my chair.
“So, where were you anyway?” she asked putting a plate on the table. “Your brother says you outfoxed them all.”
“Hiding,” I answered, and she said no more.