a good season is summer for long journeys:
quiet is the tall fine wood which the wind will not stir
green is the plumage of the sheltering wood
eddies swirl in the stream
good is the warmth in the turf.
~From The Book of Invasions
Botanical name: Ulex europaeus
Family: Fabaceae
Ogham: Onn
Scots Gaelic: Conasg
Irish Gaelic: Aiteann gallda
Welsh: Heithin
French: Ajoncs
Message: It’s time to move, to travel, to see new things and to see things in new ways.
The word of this fid, Onn, translates as ‘wheel’. From the same root word as the sole of the foot in Old Irish, the gorse plant lines the roads in gold, tempting you to follow and see where it leads.
An evergreen shrub standing seven to ten feet tall, this plant was a favorite for roadside hedges throughout Britain and Ireland for two reasons: it acted as a road marker and an impenetrable barrier. When weather turned misty or foul in Ireland, many a traveler was kept on the road and out of bogs by the lines of bright yellow blooms to either side of the track. Gorse blooms reliably from December through the following November, making it a natural road marker. (1) And if the wanderer didn’t see the plant, he’d certainly feel it should he bump into one of the hedge bushes. Gorse has thorns as long as a grown man’s little finger, and they are not much tampered with by humans.
We may leave it alone, but grazing animals love the taste of gorse. It is listed in the Brehon laws as one of the ‘bushes of the wood’, and as such, stands of the bush were open to as much cutting or work as a farmer might choose to do on them. (2) This made it accessible for many farming-adjacent uses, and it was put to many uses.
First and foremost, it was used to feed horses. In the word-Ogham associated with each fid in the Auraicept na n-Éces, the fid of Onn is described many times as ‘the helper of horses’ or ‘beloved of horses’. This makes a great deal of sense with a little botanical knowledge: Gorse is in the same plant family as peas, beans and clovers; gorse fixes nitrogen due to symbiosis with a bacterium in the roots. This makes it a valuable plant for the soil and the animals that browse on it, rich with protein, nitrogen and trace elements. (3) It was an integral part of the diet for horses and cows in Old Ireland especially, where gorse was such an important crop it was specifically registered in legal documents in the 15th and 16th centuries as an asset on farm land. (4)
It’s written in Farming in Ireland that “20 statute acres of gorse should support 100 head of cattle for the winter six months without other food save the morning feed of mangold wurzel turnips or potatoes.”
“The saving of hay for 100 cows would be at least £200 per annum, enabling the small farmer to feed eight milch cows off the same space of ground that supported only one by grazing.” (5)
Unbeknownst to them, the ancient Irish farmers were helping their country as well as their own livestock.
The gorse also protected the land and the livestock in spirit. At the great festival of Beltane, gorse was the favorite decoration for the bonfires throughout Scotland and England, when all the Celtic lands celebrated the first day of summer. Gorse was brought into the house to ‘bring in the summer’, and livestock would be herded between the great blazes fueled with gorse for purification and protection before being released onto the summer grazing. When this tradition diminished, torches of gorse and broom were still carried around the herds and farm buildings in order to cleanse the air and protect the animals against sterility. This had a practical effect as well: its decoction and its smoke were both effective insecticides, especially against fleas. (5)
Burning broom and gorse together also supplied a good alkali ash that served as a very nutritious fertilizer for refreshing the farmlands. (6) In some areas ‘furze meadows’ or ‘gorse meadows’ were intentionally grown up for a few years. They’d be pollarded (cut in half) for three years and used as animal feed, then burnt to the ground early in the year. Since gorse burns furiously and hotly when it is dry, doing the burning had some dangers, but all weed seeds in the ground were destroyed by the fire and the farmer was left with a richly top-dressed piece of farmland that was clean and ready for plowing. (7)
Gorse was prized for these gifts, and for its treasured ability to create a rich, stable and affordable yellow dye. (8)
Gorse is the fuel for the fire, and the feed that makes a horse run faster. Gorse is the cleansing that burns away impurity and the thorn that pricks us into motion. It is the fid of impetus, of energy, of going and doing and moving. It is also one of the favorite botanical symbols for Lugh Lamhfada, the shining prince of the Tuatha De Danann who ended the darkness in the land.
Long and long ago, the Tuatha de Danann, the Shining People, were at war. For seven years they had fought back the Formori and stopped them from laying waste to the land. And for seven years, the Tuatha de Danann had planned. Now it was their time to act. Lugh Lamhfada, the brightest of the Shining People, began to gather the Tuatha clans to oppose the Fomorian army. Soon the Formori had found out their work. They rose like a wave to put down the Tuatha. The two armies agreed to meet on the field of Moytura.
On the night before the battle, the Tuatha de Danann made camp and readied themselves for the fighting. Gobhan, their great smith, checked and made ready the weapons. Dagda played his harp to bolster hearts. And the high king of the Tuatha de Danann, Nuada Airgetlam, saw to his men. Moving from tent to tent, his silver coronet shining in his dark hair, Nuada buoyed spirits and gave better weapons to the young men. Then he entered a tent where a young man with hair like gold was just lifting his sword from among the maps laid on his bed.
“Put your sword down, Lugh. You will not fight tomorrow.”
Now Lugh was a brave man, and he grew angry at the words of his king. But Nuada held up a hand.
“Lugh, you are our best strategist and our greatest mage. I cannot afford to use you in the fray. You will stay in this tent, and as assurance you will have nine companions to guard you.”
Lugh argued and stormed, but his high king had given an order.
In the morning, the Tuatha De Danann marched forth, and Lugh was left with his nine companions. On the other side of the field, the Formori marched out of their encampment. To attack the Fomorian host that day was to put your hand in a serpent’s nest. At the head of their battalion marched Bres mac Elathan the traitor, Goll and Irgoll who had killed their father and eaten him, Omna and Bagna, sisters whose voices brought death. And the worst of them all was Balor of the Evil Eye, whose gaze brought death to all.
Sitting in his tent, Lugh heard the great cry as the battle began, and he tried not to think of his friends and kinsmen on the field. But his ears could not lock out the sound of the screams as warriors died, of the clash of armor and the singing of the lady Moriagan.
Lugh ground his teeth. “Look out the tent and tell me how the fighting goes.”
One young man looked out of the tent. “They are fighting so close that their feet are near touching, Lugh.”
“But are we still holding?”
“We are.”
Spears clattered as runners carried them to the fighting men. The sound of rattling chariot wheels clattered on the ground.
“Look out the tent and tell me how the fighting goes.”
Another warrior looked out the tent. “Oh, the battle’s keen and sharp. The spears are red up to the butts, and our well of healing is filled with wounded men.”
“But are we still holding?”
“Yes.”
The battle raged on, the sound of it screaming through the air. And then there was a shriek and a roar. Lugh jumped to his feet.
“Look out the tent and tell me how the fighting goes.”
A young warrior looked out the tent, and turned back, white-faced. “Oh Lugh, Balor has opened his eye! Our men are falling!”
Lugh’s hands curled into fists. “And I will not sit while my kin fall.”
Quick as a flash, he became a hare and slipped out from under the tent flap, leaving the nine guards calling after him. He changed to his own form on the run, leaping into a waiting chariot. He rode into battle with a charioteer’s weapons – a spear, a bow and a sling. What he saw was terrible. Blood soaked the grass. Formori creatures ate from the bodies of the felled. The Tuatha men were few and far between. And here and there, great circles of men lay groaning and dying. Wherever Balor had been.
Lugh rode on. His arrows flew like sunbeams into the shadows, until they were gone. His spear flashed like lightning.
“Tuatha de Danann! To me!!!” he called. The men came together behind his chariot.
The Tuatha swept forward once more. Through the melee, Lugh rode, striking like lightning in all directions. His eyes were searching for the greatest foe.
And there, on the brow of the hill, he saw Balor with his aides. Two of them used sticks to raise the great eyelid of his one eye. Before him, men fell dead.
A wheel of the chariot was speared, and cracked. Lugh cut the horses loose and ran on. His spear cut and skewered. He had nearly reached the foot of the hill when his spear shaft snapped. But Lugh fought on, entering the empty circle beneath the hill. He was facing Balor.
“Hi!” he called. “Fat old man! There’s been enough of you on this field!!”
A rumble of laughter came from the thing on the hill.
“And who are you?” the vile creature asked.
“A man who does not fear you,” Lugh replied.
Balor laughed again. “Lift up my eyelid, lads,” he said, “so I may see the talkative fellow who is conversing with me.”
The lid was raised from Balor’s eye. And that was when Lugh cast a stone from his sling. The stone flew so strongly that Balor’s eye was pushed through Balor’s brain and out the back of his skull. Now it was his own host that the dead eye looked upon, and their lines were falling as hundreds of Formori died. In that moment, the battle broke.
“Tuatha de Danann!” Nuada called out, “Let’s have an end to it!”
And the Tuatha swept forward like a wave of clean water, and the Fomori were driven back and out of the land of Erin forever.
The lines of bright yellow blooms trace winding roads through the hills. Their scent hangs on the freshening breeze, coconut and vanilla mixed together. The weather is fine.
Follow the golden lines. Find out where they lead you.
- Flora of the British Isles, Clapham, A.R., Tutin, T.G., Warburg, E.F., Cambridge, p 331, 1962
- The Brehon Laws: A Legal Handbook, Ginnell, Laurence, 1894
- “On green and fodder crops not commonly grown which have been found serviceable for stock feeding”, Darby, J., Journal of the Royal Agricultural Society of England, 2nd sers., vol.18, p.114-153, esp p.146-7, 1882
- “Furze: A Survey and History of its Uses in Ireland”, Lucas, A. T., Béaloideas 1051, 1958
- A Druid’s Herbal of Sacred Tree Medicine, Hopman, Ellen, Destiny Books, 1994
- Farming in Ireland: History, Heritage and Environment, Feehan, John, University College Dublin Faculty of Agriculture, 2003
- “Historical landscape studies in Ireland, with an appendix on the future of the Irish countryside”, Simms, Anngret, Belgeo, Revue belge de géographie 2-3, 2004
- “Getting back to basics: transitions to farming in Britain and Ireland”, Woodman, Peter C., 219-259, 2000