The Pooka, _rectè_ Púca, seems essentially an animal spirit. Some
derive his name from _poc_, a he-goat; and speculative persons
consider him the forefather of Shakespere's "Puck." On solitary
mountains and among old ruins he lives, "grown monstrous with much
solitude," and is of the race of the nightmare. "In the MS. story,
called 'Mac-na-Michomhairle,' of uncertain authorship," writes me Mr.
Douglas Hyde, "we read that 'out of a certain hill in Leinster, there
used to emerge as far as his middle, a plump, sleek, terrible steed,
and speak in human voice to each person about November-day, and he was
accustomed to give intelligent and proper answers to such as consulted
him concerning all that would befall them until the November of next
year. And the people used to leave gifts and presents at the hill
until the coming of Patrick and the holy clergy.' This tradition
appears to be a cognate one with that of the Púca." Yes! unless it
were merely an _augh-ishka [each-uisgé]_, or Waterhorse. For these, we
are told, were common once, and used to come out of the water to
gallop on the sands and in the fields, and people would often go
between them and the marge and bridle them, and they would make the
finest of horses if only you could keep them away from sight of the
water; but if once they saw a glimpse of the water, they would plunge
in with their rider, and tear him to pieces at the bottom. It being a
November spirit, however, tells in favour of the Pooka, for
November-day is sacred to the Pooka. It is hard to realise that wild,
staring phantom grown sleek and civil.
He has many shapes--is now a horse, now an ass, now a bull, now a goat,
now an eagle. Like all spirits, he is only half in the world of form.