The Púca of the Burren

In the ancient stone-scattered wilds of the Burren, where mist rolls like memory over the limestone and dusk comes fast and strange, a presence stirs once more. It moves between worlds with the ease of breath, whispering through hedgerows and slipping through shadows in the shape of a horse, a hare, a cat, or a goat. This is no ghost nor ghoul, but the Púca — the dark-eyed trickster of Irish lore, a spirit of riddles, ruin, and revelation. Neither good nor evil, its motives twist like bramble roots. It may gift a harvest or lead you laughing into a bog. As Samhain nears and the veil between this world and the next grows thin, the pooka’s hooves echo louder across the limestone. Whether you believe or scoff, in the Burren, it pays to walk with respect — for some spirits are not stories. They are watching.