It is common knowledge that the elves and larger faeries, in the wake of human expansion, have gone Underhill, or Away To The West, or any such geographical euphemism for a land slightly sideways from this one which can be traveled to and from only under certain mystical conditions by the right sorts of dreamers and madmen. But what of the smaller faeries, the half-domesticated winged flower creatures dependent on gifts of milk and bread and whiskey at the superstitious doorstep? They were last photographed in Victorian times. Could they still be holding on within the confines of the modern city?

Step back one year. Upon wandering about the Aran Islands off the Atlantic coast of Ireland, I could not help but notice a small number of brightly-painted dollhouses sitting prominently in the gardens of some of the main island's inhabitants. While I remained respectfully silent despite growing curiosity, my native tour guide caught my gaze fixated on the small structures. The older Milesian gentleman suddenly exclaimed "THOSE ARE LEPRECHAUN HOUSES!" and cackled loudly before turning away just as suddenly to avoid further inquiry.

And there I had it. If leprechauns could be enticed to live outside human settlements in this modern day, then perhaps the other small faeries were still here, and could be enticed just the same.

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Using an average between the Cottingly faeries and pre-Raphaelite depictions as a guideline for size and using Victorian-era human dwellings for architectural style, I began with an unfinished birdhouse styled like a Victorian home. Like so:



Since we are moving into the dark half of the year, even the little cute faeries will be appreciative of a more unseelie, if still natural, colour scheme.



All we have now is a perfectly serviceable bird house. This is not a faerie house. First of all, research in the modern era indicates that faeries love glitter, and there is not nearly enough glitter. Or silver. We also need more ridiculous trim.



What of garden faeries without their own garden? This will have to include black flowers, of course. With more glitter.



And in case there was any remaining doubt regarding the intended tenants of this tiny dwelling place, a sign.

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The habitat constructed, it now only remained to entice faeries into living in it. The faerie house was placed in the front garden, as per the leprechaun houses of Inis Mór.




Modern research revealed that, even more than glitter, small winged faeries loved stripey socks. A pair were constructed by hand as a gift. They are somewhat out of scale, but they were lovingly made from my very own deceased favourite pair of stripey socks. One can only hope such a sacrifice is appreciated.



As a final enticement, I wanted to leave the standard gift of a saucer of milk for the faeries. However, my household is primarily vegan and this is the closest thing I had.



And then we waited. (Day One.)

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Day Two: Soy milk has not been touched. Unsurprising, really. I don't even like the stuff. However, half a pint of much-loved caramel pecan soy ice cream has disappeared from the freezer. Perhaps it has been taken in retaliation. More thoughtful offerings of liquor and chocolates will commence immediately. Ingrates.

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Day Three: Bärenjäger is inundated with ants in various states of drunkenness, alcohol poisoning, and death. I would have expected they'd be dissuaded by 70 proof anything, but apparently not. Chocolate has been taken. Success? Let us leave one more chocolate out overnight.

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Day Four: No chocolate. Clearly something is inhabiting the faerie house or its surrounds. Said something may not appreciate socks, but it appreciates chocolate.

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Since we are now out of chocolates (and how are we out of chocolates when only three squares were left out for the wee folk? Let us say that I am far more aware of where that went than the ice cream), we shall claim success (success!) in this endeavor, end daily recording for this task, and try to remember to leave liquor and chocolates by the faerie house the next time my keys go missing.