Fairy Census 2 is now out. Six years in the making, some 200,000 words long, with 500 new fairy experiences, it is available at all good booksellers. Well, actually no, it isn’t. But you can get it (just like Fairy Census 1) in a free downloadable pdf; 2) in a free downloadable Excel sheet; 3) or, for those who like to read without screens, as print-on-demand volumes. 1 The campaign continues. The aim is to reach 2,000 open-source fairy experiences that are amenable to statistical analysis.2 We are now half-way up the mountain. There will be at least two more Fairy Censuses in the next 10 to 15 years. I also hope to produce, in that time, a Historical Fairy Census, collecting 500 cases from about 1700 to World World II.
When I started the Fairy Census in 2014 I wrote: “Both Evans Wentz and Marjorie Johnson [earlier fairy collectors and my inspirations; see FT321:30-45] wanted to prove that fairies exist. I do not have this ambition. I, instead, want to get a better understanding of who sees fairies and under what circumstances by looking at the stories and the sightings.”3 This is a sentence that I cite when I submit articles to peer-reviewed journals. It has the virtue of being true. But while not wanting to prove that fairies exist – I mean, do they? – I often find myself thinking about the reality (or otherwise) of the experiences to be found in the Fairy Census.
When asked by interviewers about the fairy encounters I collect, I lock my legs around the fence I’m sitting on and answer with some version of: “I don’t know if I believe in fairies, but I believe in fairy experiences.” In other words, I believe in the sincerity of witnesses. Again, this has the virtue of being true. I overwhelmingly believe those who write to the Fairy Census. Typically, the interviewer prevaricates a bit, then we move onto the history of fairy wings or the fifth Cottingley photograph. Today, though, I’m in a screwy mood. I’m going to stand up on the fence I’ve been sitting on and see which way I fall. I’m doing this partly because I want to kick up debate, and partly because when I get to Fairy Census 3 (or 4 or 5) I want to have some words down, so I can laugh at an earlier version of myself.
Before we dive in, a couple of warnings about the 1,000 experiences recorded in Fairy Census 1 and 2. This is not, of course, a scientific, random sample of the almost eight billion people who presently inhabit the globe. The vast majority of these experiences come from English-speaking countries: particularly, Britain and Ireland (34.8%); the United States (46.4%); Canada (4%); and Australia and New Zealand (6.9%). Many of the 7.8% that come from elsewhere are actually English-speaking tourists on holiday in, say, Iceland, France or the Philippines. In some senses, this is disappointing. But it guarantees a level of uniformity in terms of the culture and the expectations of our respondents. Another remarkable point that is worth stressing is that women are massively over-represented in the Census: 70.5% of responses were from female witnesses.4
It would. However, in the interests of sharing with readers (who have been among the most generous contributors), I’m going to concentrate on four minor fairy types. Think of them as case studies. These are: the tresp; the orno-ento fairy; the flat fairy; and the wood diva. I hope that these categories give a useful insight into some of the curiosities of late 20th and early 21st-century fairy encounters.
