Now one day while Crom Duv was away with his herd, Flann and Morag were in the courtyard. They saw the Little Red Hen rouse herself up, shake her wings and turn a bright eye on them. “What dost thou say, my Little Red Hen?” said Morag.
“The Pooka,” murmured the Little Red Hen. “The Pooka rides a fierce horse, but the Pooka himself is a timid little fellow.” Then the Little Red Hen drooped her wings again, and went on picking in the courtyard.
“The Pooka rides a fierce horse,” said Morag, “if the Pooka rides a fierce horse he might carry us past the Bull of the Mound.”
“And if the Pooka himself is a timid little fellow we might take the fierce horse from him,” said Flann.
“But this does not tell us how to get the berries off the Fairy Rowan Tree,” said Morag.
“No,” said Flann, “it does not tell us how to get the berries off the tree the cats guard.”
The next day Morag gave grains to the Little Red Hen and begged for words. After a while the Little Red Hen murmured, “There are things I know, and things I don’t know, but I do know what grows near the ground, and if you pull a certain herb, and put it round the necks of the cats they will not be able to see in the light nor in the dark. And to-morrow is the day of Sowain,” said the Little Red Hen. She said no more words. She had become sleepy and now she flew down and roosted under the table. There she went on murmuring to herself—as all hens murmur—where the Children of Dana hid their treasures—they know, for it was the Children of Dana who brought the hens to Ireland.
“To-morrow,” said Morag to Flann, “follow the Little Red Hen, and if she makes any sign when she touches an herb that grows near the ground, pluck that herb and bring it to me.”
That night Morag and Flann talked about the Pooka and his fierce horse. On Sowain night—the night before the real short days begin—the Pooka rides through the countryside touching any fruit that remains, so that it may bring no taste into winter. The blackberries that were good to eat the day before are no good on November day, because the Pooka touched them the night before. What else the Pooka does no one really knows. He is a timid fellow as the Little Red Hen said, and he hopes that the sight of his big black horse and the sound of its trampling and panting as he rides by will frighten people out of his way, for he has a great fear of being seen.
The next day the Little Red Hen stayed in the courtyard until Crom Duv left with his herd. Flann followed her. She went here and there between the house and the wall at the back, now picking a grain of sand and now an ant or spider or fly. And as she went about the Little Red Hen murmured a song to herself:—