Once upon a time in the Irish Province of Munster, there lived a king who suffered from a rare illness. The only treatment for this illness was the juice from the apples in his very own orchard. To protect his apples, the king employed a head gardener to guard the precious apples day and night so that no-one, man or beast, should pick them. Should anyone enter the orchard and get caught, they faced languishing in the king’s dungeon for the rest of their days. The head gardener, together with his three sons, took turns to guard the orchard and were successful for many years until one night everything changed.

It was a particularly frosty night. The moon shone benevolently from an inky black sky making the apples sparkle like a thousand jewels amongst the trees. Suddenly, the king was awoken by a great flapping and clattering of wings. Instantly, he knew that a bird was attempting to steal his apples. As well as he could, he opened the window and began shouting at the bird. To his surprise, he saw that the bird was entirely covered in golden features that glistened in the moonlight. So bright was the light emanating from the bird that it lit up the whole of his orchard. The giant bird ignored the king’s cries of protest and made off with one of his apples.

Of course, the king didn’t get another moment’s sleep for the rest of the night. At dawn, he sent for his gardener and berated him for not keeping a more watchful eye on his life-giving apples. The terrified gardener assured the king that his three sons were the best archers in the whole of Ireland. “Not another apple will you lose”, he promised the king.

 That night, the eldest son Aron, took up his position in the orchard with his bow and arrow at the ready. He watched and watched until he felt quite drowsy. In the wee small hours of the morning, the king was again woken by the flapping and clattering of huge wings. Once again, the golden bird was back in the orchard. Aron jumped up, but before he could aim his arrow, the bird flew off with another apple in its huge beak.

 The king fumed and fretted with his gardener who, fearing for his life, promised that his second son was more agile than the first and would soon put an end to the apple thief. When night came, the second son Brendan, took up his position in the orchard with his bow already strung and an arrow between his fingers. Just before dawn, a great clattering of wings could be heard and although Brendan jumped up and let fly an arrow, it missed the golden bird who speedily made off with a third apple.

The gardener dreaded appearing before the king with the news the next morning. The king let out a roar of anguish that could be heard as far away as the Wicklow Mountains. “What am I to do to rid myself of this apple thief before it kills me?” raged the king. Trembling for his life, the gardener begged the king to let his youngest son Cathal, take over the watch. Reluctantly, the king agreed but vowed the gardener and his sons would be thrown into the darkest dungeon for ever, should Cathal fail.

As it grew dark, Cathal settled himself against the wall surrounding the orchard, with his bow and arrow aimed upwards amongst the trees. All was eerily quiet in the orchard and Cathal found it hard to keep his eyes open. The soft hoot of an owl played like a lullaby soothing him to sleep. Just then, a brightness lit up the wall and the trees – the golden bird was back! Cathal fired his arrow straight and true. It missed the bird but clipped off one of its golden features sending it drifting gently to the ground. With a screech loud enough to wake the whole castle, the golden bird escaped without collecting an apple.

 Cathal was determined to catch the bird, guarding the orchard nightly for the next seven nights but the golden bird never returned. The king, who was fascinated by the golden feather, declared that he would give half his kingdom to whoever brought him the bird with the golden feathers, dead or alive. Cathal was the first to step up to the challenge and assured the king he would travel to the ends of the Earth, if need be, to find and bring back the golden bird.

 The next morning, Cathal set out on his quest. For many days he tracked over streams and valleys and hills, but his searching was in vain. One evening, as the orange sun was setting, Cathal came to a wood. There he sat down under a tree to rest himself and eat a bit of bread and cheese when along came a fine-looking fox.

“Ah, kind sir, would you spare a bit of food for a fellow traveller”, pleaded the fox. Even though, Cathal had barely enough for himself, he willingly shared his food with the hungry fox. They got talking as travellers do and the fox gave Cathal a bit of advice. “Before dawn, you’ll come to a wee village. On one side of the street you’ll see a room lit up and filled with people partying and dancing. On the other side you’ll see a room only lit by the light from a turf fire. Take lodging there.” With that, he curled his tail across his back and trotted off.

When Cathal reached the village, all was as the fox had said it would be. Although he was sorely tempted to join the party, he knocked on the door of the quiet house and was given a bed for the night.  Early next morning, he overheard the man of the house telling his wife of a rumour he overheard that the king of Leinster had got himself a magnificent bird with golden feathers that he kept in a cage by his bed. Instantly, Cathal knew this was the prize he was after. As he left the house, he asked the woman “Would you have a notion how far you have to travel to reach the king of Leinster’s castle?”

“Ach, it’s a wild journey well over forty miles across the Galty Mountains,” she said. With a happy heart Cathal set out once more, but after days of heavy wind and snow, his energy was sapped, and an awful tiredness came over him. At last he found shelter in a shepherd’s hut and lay down to rest. The fox came to him in his dreams and led him through the corridors of a castle, until, looking through the key hole of a great iron door, he saw the golden bird in a cage next to the king’s bed.

In the morning, Cathal felt refreshed and confident that he could find the golden bird. A day’s travel took him to the woods surrounding the king of Leinster’s castle, where he waited patiently until nightfall. As the moon rose, Cathal climbed the wall into the castle grounds. Sure enough, the fox’s directions took him straight to the king’s bedroom. The king stirred in his sleep when Cathal opened the door, but he did not wake. The room was lit by the soft golden light from the bird’s feathers. 

The moment Cathal grabbed the cage, the bird let such a squawk out of him as was enough to break the glass in all the windows, and at the same time the king woke up shouting for his guards. “Help! Thief! Catch him!” he roared as he sprang from his bed. Just at that moment, the fox appeared from nowhere and shouted, “Get on my back, get on my back!” Cathal jumped onto the fox’s back and off they flew like the wind far away from the castle. By evening they had reached the king of Munster’s castle.

“I have brought you what you desire,” Cathal said, handing the king the cage with the golden bird. Of course, the king was delighted and thankful to know that his precious life-giving apples would once more be safe. He thought the bird beautiful and ordered his gardener to plant some more apple trees so there would be enough golden apples for them both. And the king was true to his word giving Cathal a wagon load of gold equal to half his kingdom. “Well fox,” said Cathal, “how about we share a decent meal down at O’Connor’s Inn?” Fox licked his lips and curling his tail across his back followed Cathal out of the castle. And from that day forward, as much as I know, all lived happily ever after.