A talisman is a magical item, something created to attract good luck or to embody particular spirit forces. Bindrunes fall under this heading, but so also do some other items I craft from time to time.

On occasion, as I’m beach-combing with the dogs or just walking in the woods and forest around my home, I come across something that calls out to me, wanting to be incorporated into a talisman. I bring these things home and work with them as a shaman as well as a crafter, asking them what they want to be and why, then I craft a unique piece of artwork for them and enliven them, inviting the informing spirit to become an indwelling spirit within the crafted item.

I never know what form the finished piece will take until we’re done and the spirit is in residence because the process of creation involves an ongoing dialogue with both the craft materials and the inspiring spirit.

Most of these talismans are not meant to stay with me, and I offer them for sale or, sometimes, gift them to friends and colleagues who are meant to have them. This is one that stayed with me.


I’ve always had horses in my life since I was a small child, and I have a very strong relationship with the Welsh goddess Rhiannon, who is a horse goddess. I was beach combing with my dogs in Wales many years ago when I found this horse pedal bone, the bone that’s inside the hoof, on a beach in Carmarthenshire called Morfa Bychan, which was very close to my home at the time. I used glass beads in the three sacred colours of the British Old Ways, red, white and black, to craft this necklace; each colour corresponds to one aspect of the Maiden-Mother-Crone triad and also with the Three Cauldrons that hold Life, Wisdom and Vocation.

The string runs through the two holes in the bone formed by the major blood vessels which feed the inside of the hoof in life, and the silver crescent formed across the front of the bone calls on the power of the moon, which all goddesses and women share in British tradition. Smaller beads protect the string and bone from wearing on each other in use, and the larger tassel at the back counterweights the weight of the bone and its tassel, making the whole necklace balanced and comfortable to wear.

Appropriately, the background to this photo is my 18 inch horsehide drum, Thunderhoof, decorated with stylised lightning and hoof prints, which you can just see creeping in round the edges. This is, interestingly, the drum my four horses react to most positively when I drum for them – they like all the drums, but Thunderhoof is their favourite.

Here’s Thunderhoof again – this time on my altar during a ritual.


On Feathers…

Goose Feathers

I was pondering the ins and outs of feathers this morning; the geese are moulting and every day the yard, barn and feed room are scattered with feathers. Here’s two I picked up this morning – both off the same bird, Hannibal the Cannibal, who is grossly traduced by his name. He’s a loving parent, a devoted mate and brave in defending his family – and yes, if you trespass on his priorities he will give you a nasty nip, but we have a mutually respectful relationship and, although he’s not above getting me behind the knee with a tweak of his beak, he also stops short if I turn around and wag a finger at him with a watchful ‘I see you!’

Look at the size differential in these two feathers, though. One’s a primary flight feather from his wing, and the other is a tiny little feather from the back of his neck. What a difference! Every feather on his body seems to be subtly different from all the others – specialised for flight, or for shedding water and wind to keep the weather off, or fluffy to trap heat and keep him warm, and every one shaped perfectly to form an all-over suit of protective weather-armour. Even though my geese can’t fly – they’re domestic geese, not wild ones, and bred over centuries to be too heavy for their wings to carry them into the air – still their wing feathers have the asymmetric shape required for maximum efficiency through the air, the quills heavy, strong and stiff, and the vanes either side of the quill shaft are tough and hard, too.

In contrast, that tiny neck feather is delicate, so fine I have to concentrate on picking it up without damaging it, and sits on the end of my little finger, so light even breathing near it wafts it away.

One of the reasons for considering this amazing variety in feather design – apart from marvelling at the engineering brilliance achieved through of millions of years of evolution! – is that when I use feathers for craft work or for magic (or both) it’s important to choose the right feathers for the job.

The big primary wing feathers are almost too big for craft work. I use the secondary wing feathers for dreamcatchers, but these big stiff quills on the primaries are ideal for making quill pens – if you can bear to strip off the feather and just use the bare quill! – or for fletching arrows (not a skill I practice). In magic, I use them for precision-wafting smudge-smoke and incense-smoke, for which they’re ideal.

I have fans made from the dried whole wings of roadkill woodcock and blackbirds that I use for more general wafting of smoke – I always feel it’s a terrible insult to a creature not to make use of their discarded bodies, and the beautiful patterns of their wings make equally beautiful ritual fans.

Smaller feathers are good for decorating sticks, bags and beadwork. As a general principle, when you’re making any ritual tool, the more effort and work you put into the crafting, the more you will be repaid with a tool that is more attuned to you, more responsive and better at channelling energies for your purposes. There are limits, however – these minute little feathers from Hannibal’s neck are so tiny, I’d need tweezers and a magnifying glass to fix them into any piece of work and the time it would take to cover any amount of a surface with them would be phenomenal.

I also choose which species of bird to use feathers from for each project – I have geese, Muscovy ducks, assorted chickens and quail here as domestic species, and I’m always on the lookout for shed wild bird feathers or roadkill when I’m out and about. Domestic species carry a subtly different energy to the wild ones – they’ve lived with us for so many centuries, they’re more attuned to human ways and their feathers reflect this. Similarly, there’s a difference between the energies carried by wild birds who visit our gardens and birdtables – the blackbirds, robins, thrushes, sparrows, finches and tits – and the wilderness-wild species who will have nothing to do with us – the hawks and eagles, the herons and kingfishers.

Different again are the game birds, the ones who know humans only as a ruthless predator. Theirs is an elusive energy, seeking to hide and flee, and it’s important to take that into account when using their feathers. There’s little point using the feathers of a pheasant, for example, if you’re trying to decorate a talisman for courage to stand up and fight your corner – for that, you’d do far better with the eagle and hawk feathers. For a charm to persuade someone to ignore you, then choose a bird that seeks to be unobtrusive, not a peacock.

The one thing I will not do is kill any bird purely for the sake of its feathers. If I find a dead bird, or if I’m killing a bird for food, then I will use the feathers rather than waste them – but I only kill for necessity, not for convenience and never for vanity.

If you’re looking for ethically-sourced feathers for any craft project, do please drop me a line – I usually have a box of feathers sitting about and if you tell me what you need, I’ll see if I can supply it.

Bird Wings: clockwise from bottom left, a woodcock wing fan, a pair of magpie’s wings, two pairs of hen pheasant wings.

More Runes…

I’ve enlivened two sets of runes today – one the black tumble stones Futhark set I made last week:


The other set is the Futhorc in black acrylic paint with blue ‘stained glass’ highlights, done on frosted clear glass, though Gar opted to be on clear glass without the frosting:


They also called for different altar ‘furniture’ for the two rituals – this often happens. The process of enlivening, calling the power of the runes into the materials used, always shares some aspects – I always have fire, alcohol and incense and usually there’s a crystal wand involved – but often the incense burner is different, or a different wand is required, or another crystal may wish to be present. Sometimes the alcohol is mead, though this time it’s a Cabernet Sauvignon (called Dark Horse!).

Living shamanism can’t be done on an assembly line!

Crafting Runes

It’s been a difficult year – my elderly mother went suddenly downhill with Alzheimer’s last summer and now lives with me as she’s no longer able to look after herself. This, obviously, puts quite a crimp in my work, as she now needs supervision 24/7 and can’t so much as make herself a cup of tea!

Finally, however, I’ve found the time to craft again – not a drum, but a couple of sets of runes, for a change.

The first one I did this afternoon and it’s Anglo-Saxon Runes, painted in gold acrylic paste on green glass pebbles. These are ideal for runes, as they carry no inherent energy of their own as living substances such as wood or crystals do. There’s nothing wrong with using wood or crystals to make runes, mind you – you just have to negotiate with your materials beforehand and make sure they’re up for the job! Glass, being melted sand, has no such complications.


There’s also a great advantage in using acrylic paint – it is quick to dry! Painted at 1pm, ready to enliven with the energies of their individual runes by 2pm – just time to have lunch between the two jobs.

The Anglo-Saxon runes as I use them have 33 runes to the set – this is fairly standard, though historically there were anything from 29 to 33 runes in use during the period (approximately 5th Century AD to 11th Century AD). I like using the nine ‘extra’ runes of the Futhorc  (named for the first six letters of the set) for two reasons – one is it gives more flexibility in readings and crafting bind runes, and the other is that to me – as to some other Northern Tradition shamans – eight of them seem associated with older, darker forces than the 24 runes of the Futharc and the ninth seems to be representative of the World Tree, Yggdrasil with an additional association with Odin, the quintessential shaman-king.

This evening I felt drawn to craft a second set of runes – this time the Elder Futhark, just 24 runes long, and done in silver acrylic paint on black tumblestones – very dramatic! It’s always a pleasant challenge to select the appropriate stone for the shape of the rune – long thin ones for the long thin runes, and wider ones for broader runes. They’re still drying, sitting on a sheet of paper in a quiet corner; I’ll enliven them tomorrow morning.

Elder Futhark
Silver acrylic paint on black tumblestones

I’ll take another photo in better light tomorrow when I enliven the set ready for use.

Students and Inspiration

I’m always happy to teach people how to make their own drums, and this morning I had a student who made a lovely 18-inch reindeer drum on a birch hoop.


Setting up for a student, or a group of students, starts well in advance. I have to order in materials, which takes about two weeks, and then the night before, the hide(s) go into the bath to soak. Here’s half a reindeer hide soaking last night.

After that, there’s organising the workspace.


While the hide’s in the bath, the table is moved into position by the window for a good light and I lay out sandpaper, beeswax, furniture polish (some people prefer one, some the other) with a clean jay cloth to rub it in well, scissors for cutting hide, the hoop and (in this case) the metal tension ring, glue gun and pencil.

Here’s another view, without the glue gun – I’d just plugged that in ready to turn on.


Today’s drum was a lovely piece of work by Ron, who finished in record time – but he’s made drums before, which helps enormously.

After today’s tuition session, I was feeling inspired so I got out an 18 inch oval oak hoop I’ve had sitting waiting for a while. I drew out the designs to decorate the hoop in pencil last autumn but then Life got in the way and while pyrography happened within a few days of the sketches, it’s taken until today to feel ready to paint the hoop.

Most of the decoration will remain just pyrography but some parts wanted a touch of colour. I’ve used acrylic paints, which dry fast, come in a wide range of colours, blend easily, clean up off the brush very well and will hold their colour for a long time to come! The inside of the hoop has a circle of the year, with each season being represented by a few scenes. Either side of the join in the hoop are snowflakes for midwinter, followed by a group of stylised dancers, sunrise over a stone circle, a horse-drawn plough, a pair of hares boxing, another group of dancers, an oak leaf, a maypole, a bee, some honeycomb, a pair of foals playing, another set of dancers, a sheaf of corn, a squirrel, a stalk of wheat, an acorn, another set of dancers (this time with a lit torch upraised), a fly agaric fungus, a winter-bare tree, a Mari Llywd and so back to the snowflakes.

In the next few days I’ll put a boar hide on this frame and leave it aside to dry in its own time. Whether the hide will want some decoration or not I don’t know – nor have I decided yet whether to do this one as a ring-tensioned hide or a Native American style drum. When the hide’s ready I’ll make up my mind!

Collecting Materials

My friend Elen Sentier and I, with two whippets (on a lead), headed off today to have a walk in the woods, it being a beautiful sunny day.

We came to a troll bridge. The troll was happy to let me pass (with the dogs) when I offered hazelnuts and water from my own water-spring at home, but only if I placed them at the top of the rocky gully his stream ran down. I unclipped the dog-lead from round my waist and handed it to Elen, then set off up the gully, climbing up the rocks to put the nuts on a flat bit of rock, then carefully pour the water next to them. I was about to climb down when I was told to refill my flask from the dribble of water below where I’d left my offering. I had to put one foot on a rock the other side of the gully and bend almost between my own knees to reach, in a sort of weird shamanic yoga pose.

It’s never simple and easy.

I took the water back down and shared some with Elen and the dogs, then clipped the lead back around my waist and waited while Elen talked with the troll. A silvery-grey barked length of rowan wood wanted to come with me, so I picked it up. The troll, meanwhile, told Elen to give me a length of wood from the other side of the stream, a piece of young birch with its beautiful red bark.

We thanked the troll for his gifts, then crossed the bridge and went on. Before long we swung uphill, the open young woods of birch and cherry giving way to older oaks on steep slopes either side of the track, with pines mingled in here and there. Elen was waylaid by a troll behind me and I carried on up with the dogs until two pines creaked to and fro across the path. I stopped.

“May I pass?”

“If you’ve silver for the toll.”

As it happened, I’d left my purse in the car but I had picked up a bit of rock with a glorious surface layer of silvery mica. I took it out of my pocket and tilted it to and fro so the sun gleamed off the smooth shiny mica.

“Oh, that’ll do! Put it up here, up in this little dell.”

Fifteen feet up the bank, which meant climbing up the boulders and then crawling under a fallen tree.

I unclipped the dog lead, placed the sticks on the ground and waited while Elen extricated herself from her troll encounter and caught up. She held the dogs again while I clambered up the boulders and crawled under the fallen trunk to put the rock in the little dell. I clambered back down again and clipped the dog lead round my waist, then picked up the stick again.

Fifty yards further on, a pine had fallen across the path and been cleared back a bit with a chainsaw, but a willow bush was entangled in the fallen tree and it was clearly another moment to pause and ask permission to go on, not to push in uninvited.

“May I pass?”

“Who are you?” they demanded. I gave my usual shamanic name. “And who’s that?”

They kept that up while I worked my way through nearly twenty years of names and titles, collected in similar encounters in one world or another. Eventually I ran out of all those and there was a short pause.

“So you know the four elements. Do you know plants?”

“Somewhat.” It pays to be a little cautious on questions like that!

“Pick a flower and a leaf from each of three edible plants, carry them in your own hand up the hill to the top, leave each with its like. Bring back a leaf and a flower from each of three different edible plants, to do the same after you start down again. But they mustn’t touch the ground until you put them each with its like! Also bring down one edible plant that never flowers. Will you do that?”

“I will, if I can.” (Never make promises you can’t keep, either!)

“Then you may pass with our blessings.”

I looked around. Violets, with their edible flowers, one of the first new things in the spring. Bittercress, which is great in scrambled eggs and, again, early to grow in the spring. And wood sorrel, that delicious tangy leaf that quenches thirst. You wouldn’t try and make a meal of any, but they’re all edible! I took a flower and a leaf from each, placed them carefully in one hand, arranged the stick and the dog lead in the other, thanked them politely and moved on.

It very quickly became evident that one of the dogs had her own tasks, involving – as far as I could see – sniffing every tussock of grass and peeing on certain ones. The other dog, looking long-suffering, was being pushed from side to side and kept stepping over the lead to get it between her legs. Each time, I had to halt them both, put the stick down, pick the dog’s leg up, put the leg down the other side of the lead, gather the lead up again, pick up the stick and then move on. Without dropping or crushing the flowers in my other hand.

We reached the top of the hill and lay down for a rest. The dogs wanted a drink. I put the flowers and leaves carefully into my left hand, unbuckled my belt pouch with my right hand, fished out the flask, clamped it between my knees to unscrew it, then managed to pinch the flask between thumb and finger on my left hand to pour the contents into my right palm for the dogs to lap.

When they’d finished, I performed the whole dance in reverse. Couldn’t put the flowers and leaves down, nor let anyone take them for me!

After we’d got our breath and quenched our thirst, we carried on. Now I could look around for matching plants and lay down my three little burdens. The habitat here was open heath with young birch and rowan, not the old mixed oak and pine woods where I’d found them. It took some careful peering around to find a patch of wood-sorrel, and then I put down the leaf and flower. There was tormentil nearby – not, strictly speaking, a food plant, but certainly medicinal, so I decided to push on that point as ‘edible’ in contrast to ‘inedible’ rather than in the sense of ‘makes a good pot of stew’ edible. Sometimes you do need to justify your actions and having your defence thought out ahead of time helps!

We moved on, pausing frequently for dog-disentangling purposes, and I managed to spot violets, exchanging them for stitchwort, and then I spotted fiddleheads, the still-curled just-up heads of bracken that can be fried in butter. Bracken, of course, never flowers – it sets spores instead. Moving on, I traded the bittercress for dandelion, and then spotted some primroses, which I’d definitely seen in the lower woods, and decided to swap that for the stitchwort, which I didn’t remember spotting lower down. Nobody said I had to bring the first edible plants I found, after all!

We continued around the top of the hill, which involved some magnificent tilted slabs of metamorphic rock. Navigating down these brought challenges – in my case two dogs yanking on the lead while I walked down a thirty-degree slope on smooth rock! We got round, though, and back to the place where we’d come in (and they had a sneaky trick on us before that, involving a very similar-looking junction going down the other side of the hill! We weren’t deceived, though, and spotted a magnificent oil beetle on the climb back up from that little tricksy spot as a reward. I’ve never met such a big beetle, a full two inches in length and a glorious green-blue shade in the sun.

Finally we got back to the downhill trail and I started looking to match like for like again. The bracken was fine, there was a patch right by the track. After that it was the tormentil, a few yards further on. The primroses made up for this convenience by being twenty yards into the wood, the far side of a ditch with a stream in it that I had to cross by leaping over where the local deer clearly leap over.

One-handed, as I teetered on the top of the landing slope with my feet slipping in the deer tracks.

It was a massive relief to find a dandelion in the middle of the trail, near the bottom of the hill, and to walk back past the troll. We bowed in thanks after crossing his bridge again. Just round the corner I was rewarded with a third chunk of wood to bring back – this one the dark, dark red-black of young cherry.

One light, one red, one black. A set of three drumsticks for me to craft, apparently.

It was a very good walk in the woods!

Reindeer on Ash

Having more or less settled into our new home at Cairnorchies Croft, today was a big day – time to birth the first drum here! I put a Reindeer hide to soak last night and prepared a 16″ Ash hoop, giving the edges a final polish with fine sandpaper followed by a light coat of bee’s wax, rubbed well in, to make sure they’re properly smooth and won’t damage the hide that goes over them.

I actually think Reindeer works better with Birch, metaphysically, since both are denizens of the Boreal Forests, but this reindeer hide wanted to be on a 16″ Ash hoop. Who am I to argue?

As the only female deer with antlers, as well as a member of the relict Ice Age fauna once native to the UK (though this hide came from Scandinavia), there are all sorts of spiritual correspondences at work with Reindeer. As a female deer with antlers, Reindeer has strong connections to Elen of the Ways, one of the oldest British goddesses and always depicted as a woman with antlers, or an antlered female deer. Some sources say reindeer became extinct in Britain shortly after the last Ice Age, around 8,000 years ago, others claim Vikings hunted them in the 1300’s – either way, there’s only one herd of free-ranging reindeer in the UK now and they roam the Cairngorm Mountains, not far from me. This is a herd established in 1952 by the reintroduction of 29 Scandinavian-born reindeer to the Cairngorm Plateau, where they’ve thrived ever since. Some of the males are kept behind fences and can be visited by tourists – even hand-fed and stroked – but the females and youngsters, along with the breeding males, live as a feral herd, wandering the National Park as they choose.

Ash is a tree that also has strong spiritual connections. According to the Northern Traditions the World Tree, Yggdrasil, is an Ash, and true to its name Ash is a tree that burns clean and hot, though it’s also a wood of amazing versatility, providing tool handles, carriage wheels, excellent charcoal – once used for tattoos, since it’s (allegedly) the only wood charcoal that never causes infections! – and is both fast-growing and easy to work. Ash is also connected with Gwydion in British lore, Gwydion being the Master Magician of Britain.


Reindeer hide is a lovely pale cream in colour, which goes well with the pale colour of ash wood. It’s quite quick to soak and correspondingly quick to dry out again, too, so I like to work swiftly with this elusive and fast-moving creature! Rather than the metal-hoop style, this one is a Native American style drum, with the lacing cut from the same hide that makes the drum head and nothing but the hide and the hoop involved. At the moment, of course, there’s a certain in-progress feel about the newly born drum, because I use clothes pegs to keep the hide tidy on the back of the drum until it dries enough to hold its  shape better.


With this style, there are 12 holes in the hide and 12 spokes to the lacing, gathered into 4 groups of 3 to recall the 4 seasons, each of 3 months, and the four-armed cross in the centre also acts as a reminder of the 4 elements, Earth, Air, Fire and Water.

This lovely little drum is drying now, completing the next stage of her birthing in dry, cool conditions out of direct sunlight, being turned gently each day to ensure she dries evenly. In a day or two the clothes pegs will come off and in about 3 weeks, she’ll be ready to share her voice with the world.


Far Flung Drums

Although most of my drums stay in the UK – at least to my knowledge! – sometimes one goes further afield, and they don’t get much further afield than Australia.

This beautiful drum, reindeer hide on an 18 inch ash hoop with indigo ribbon binding a 7 inch steel ring, was commissioned from me by an Australian shaman and is now at work on the far side of the world.

Long may she call across the worlds!


Bean-Sidhe’s New Home!

2019 brings the exciting news of a change of home for Bean-Sidhe Drum Craft – we’re moving to a smallholding in the beautiful Aberdeenshire countryside, with woodland all around and a bronze-age Recumbent Stone Circle just a few hundred metres away!

This does mean that courses and drum-making will be on hold for a few months until the move has been completed and new (much better!) workshop space set up, but watch the blog for news of when courses will be starting up again.

We will also have a range of animals sharing the space with us, ranging from dogs and ferrets through Rex rabbits and quail to my beloved horses, including one of the rarest horses in the UK, my young Suffolk Punch gelding George, and there will hopefully be the opportunity for students to interact with some of the animals once I’ve set up the right space for this to take place safely (on both sides!)

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