Straw men and women for all seasons

THERE ARE synchronised swimmers in the Erkina river. At the courthouse, a convict is fleeing across the roof. Out past the fire station, an exasperated recession victim is digging his way to Australia. Meanwhile, Prince William and Kate Middleton are quaffing champagne at the Castle Arms Hotel. Welcome to the Durrow All-Ireland Scarecrow Festival: one of the smallest, most charming and eccentric fixtures on the Irish festival calendar.

Now in its third year, this week-long event offers a packed programme of live music, arts and craft workshops, a High Nelly bicycle gathering, and even professional wrestling.

But in the village’s picturesque square, it is the straw men who take centre stage. They are scarecrows rather than effigies. That said, Angela Merkel might want to steer clear of south Co Laois if she is of a sensitive disposition. The German chancellor aside, entrants in this year’s All-Ireland Scarecrow Championships seem not overly preoccupied with matters topical.

If you’ve ever wondered how Edward Scissorhands would appear rendered in straw, this is the festival that has the answer. Across town, Durrow’s firemen pay tribute to the New York Fire Department on the, er, 11th anniversary of the September 11th attacks. “We had the idea last year,” admits sub-officer Gearoid Ryan. “But we didn’t get around to it in time.”

At her desk in the Scarecrow Village, festival organiser Evelyn Clancy explains the origins of the festival. “We had carnivals here for over 20 years,” she says. “And to be honest, they were dying a death. The scarecrow idea was just a novelty really. The idea was to liven things up and bring a bit of business into the town.”

To judge by the crowds milling around the arts and crafts stalls on Sunday afternoon, the idea is working a treat. The village is packed with visitors and a relaxed summer atmosphere prevails. On one end of the square, children queue for popcorn. On the other, the only uniformed garda on duty spends most of the afternoon with one eye on the hurling, which is being shown on television in the local pub.

The weather, meanwhile, oscillates between torrential downpours and glorious sunshine. Indeed, the vagaries of the Irish climate provide fodder for many of the more amusing entries. (“I hear next year summer is due to fall on a Friday,” quips a scarecrow in the window of Freeman’s pharmacy.)

Before bidding Durrow a reluctant farewell, I feel obliged to inquire about the flags. The organisers of the Durrow Scarecrow Festival appear to be taking an emphatically progressive stance on one of the hot-button, civil-rights issues of the day.

There are two rainbow Pride flags over the entrance to the Scarecrow Village, two at the exit, one flying high at centre of the site and two above the stage where local country music outfit Woodbine are performing for a small crowd.

“Oh those,” says Evelyn Clancy. “To be honest, I only bought them because there was a good deal going on them at the shop. It was only later someone explained what they meant. Well, what harm?”

What harm, indeed.

Raising the Flag at Ground Zero

Fireman Gearoid Ryan is reluctant to pose for photographs. “This is eight men’s work,” he insists. “Not just my own.” The installation at Durrow Fire Station pays tribute to Thomas E Franklin’s iconic photograph of three New York fire fighters raising an American flag at Ground Zero on September 11th, 2001. It was constructed almost entirely from materials that were lying around the station.

“We all pitched in, we made a start and it came together in six or seven hours.” The piece has been standing outside the fire station for almost a week, in which time two of the original helmets were stolen. The Stars and Stripes went up only on Sunday. The firemen are modest about their chances of taking the top prize. “A few people in the town recognised the image even without the flag. For us, that was compliment enough.”

The Straw that Broke the Camel’s Back

Bookie Michael Murphy isn’t offering odds on this year’s All-Ireland Scarecrow Championship. “The scarecrows only went up today,” he says, “so I haven’t had a chance to see them all.”

His own effort, erected on the footpath opposite his home, is a straw camel. “My wife came up with the idea,” he says. “I sketched it out on plywood and cut around it with a jigsaw. About a week’s work went into it altogether.”

For a small business owner in straitened times, does the proverb of the straw that broke the camel’s back have any particular significance?

“No,” he laughs. “It’s just a camel.”

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

“Did you really make this, Luke?” asks one amazed passer-by, when she happens upon Luke Dunne’s remarkably accomplished Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. For the out-of-work plasterer, it was the challenge of representing the king of the jungle in straw that first intrigued him. “I looked up the bone structure online. I had never realised lions were so big.”

He constructed the animal’s ribcage from Qual-Pex plumbing pipes; the lion’s mane is made from chaff. Some 70 man hours went into the project, the bulk of which was spent on Aslan. The witch and the wardrobe, he admits, were something of an afterthought.

Another passer-by is less surprised at how impressive Luke’s efforts have turned out. “I’ve always said it,” she laughs. “If a Dunne can’t do it, it can’t be done.”

Ear to the Ground

Entering the All-Ireland Scarecrow Championship was a last-minute decision for Paula Bergin and her daughters Maeve and Sarah. But the trio have form. Last year, they created Little Miss Sunshine, a young holidaymaker fleeing the country and the wet Irish weather. This year’s scarecrow was originally conceived as a tribute to Irish Olympian Katie Taylor. Unfortunately, that effort did not turn out to the family’s satisfaction. “The arms and legs were lumpy,” says Paula. “We didn’t want it to appear that we were insulting the girl.”

Maeve and Sarah are not confident of victory, selecting the synchronised swimmers on the river as their favourite. “If I’d known the prize money was €1,000, we’d have started work on this in January,” laughs their mother.

The Durrow Scarecrow Festival runs until Monday, August 6th. durrowscarecrowfestival.com

Photographs: Dylan Vaughan