The Unknown Fisherman of County Clare

My name is Donagh, I am ten years old and I am a fisherman. My earliest fishing memory is, I was two years old; I was in a place called Kilkee in County Clare with my older brother and my parents. My Dad set up a line of feather traces; he attached a two pound

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The Water Horses of White Claddagh

My grandmother told me a story when I was small about Manannán Mac Lir, the powerful sea god of Atlantica who had the ability to change the weather. My grandmother was on the White Claddagh seashore seeking shelter from the storm when suddenly Manannán Mac Lir, from the old legends rose up from the waves

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The Water of Woodlawn

It weaves its way through woodland, fields, ravines and bogs and meanders through the ditch near my house, a forgotten place, silent and peaceful, yet full of life. To see water in the ditch, you must push through the nettles that rise up like guards defending it. Fallen branches cross it like old bridges, some

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The Life of a Swan

There is a pond in Carriglea Shanballymore about 4km from my home and I was delighted when a pair of swans came to make their home there in the spring. They have been coming there for a number of years. They made a nest and the Pen which is a female swan laid 6 eggs

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The longest week on the Riverbank

My great grandad was a great man for oral history. He was born in 1915 and lived in Moydow, Co longford, so his story telling ability spanned for over a century, for he lived until he reached the age of 101 and died in 2016. His ability to tell a yarn was very unique and

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The Rattlin Rap

Back in the 1980s my brother lived in Michigan and loved to fish. He couldn’t come home because there was no Green Card but we loved to open the presents he sent. My sister got a quilted jumpsuit and I got a fishing rod and a few lures. One dark rainy night in March, while

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The River Below The Town

If Rivers could talk what stories they would have to tell, good and bad. Unfortunately they can’t – at least, not in language we can understand – so we have to tell their stories ourselves. I’m from Bray in County Wicklow, and like anyone else from the town I have plenty of stories about the

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The River of the Town of the Waterfall of the Oak Trees

Sligo is the Shelly Place, on the Little Rough River that runs, short and fast, from the Bright Lake to the shining sea where Eva Gore-Booth’s ‘little waves of Breffni’ lap gently on the shore. Sligo is ‘the holy mountain (Ben Bulben) whose mighty heart gathers into it all the coloured days’ of Seamus O’Sullivan’s

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The Floating Sandwich

This is a true story told to me by my Nana one day One day while we were sitting by our little stream having lunch with our Nana, she was reminded of a story that her grandmother, Ellen, told her back in the 1950s when she was on her annual summer holiday with her, on

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The Gap

My Father, the Fisherman I can still see him standing at The Gap, a local fishing spot in Thomastown, casting his line into the surging water – a man who loved the river bank and who’d spend hours waiting for the salmon to bite. Many times I was there when a tug would come on

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The Glas Lochs

One of my favourite places in the world is the mouth of the harbour in Berehaven, with Ardnakinna lighthouse looking down on you from your port side and the Pipers Rocks standing tall and secure to starboard. Even more special are the Glas Lochs, a series of lakes in a scooped-out basin in the Caha

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The Grand Canal

My nearest body of water is the Grand Canal. I lived at the 21st Lockhouse, Ballycommon for many years. My Grandad, James Fisher, is the lock keeper at this lock and I have many special memories of helping him open locks and put boats through. Locks are essential when the canal flows through territory which

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