What Fools These Mortals Be

On the eve of the summer solstice, called Midsummer, the veils between ours and the spirit world are thinnest, according to Shakespeare, who took pagan lore for granted when he set humans and faeries loose in an enchanted forest in his comedy “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” 

“My house cat, Lucy, disappeared the whole day and returned Friday exhausted,” whispered a newly elected Southampton Village Board member, Kimberly Allan, after I mentioned the recent solstice and its persistent witchy energy. She showed me a picture of Lucy, “short for Lucifer because she’s always making trouble,” in a chair by the pool where she found her Friday morning, passed out in front of an empty martini glass. “It was weird; she never goes out,” Kimberly said among the rose patches in the vast gardens of Joan and Bernard Carl’s Southampton estate. “Partying with the faeries most likely,” I nodded. 

Midsummer fell on Wednesday last week and in the days surrounding it, I’d been looking for clues of local pagan activity and portals to the faerie realm. I went online to read up on new-age rites and to the East Hampton Library for books on solstice rituals. I spoke to the world-renowned local astrology team Amy Zerner and Monte Farber, attended a goddess circle on Montauk’s Navy Beach, hosted by Madi Murphy and Audrey Amelie Rudolf of Sacred Space Revolution, whose website promised an evening that would be “Mystical AF,” until at last, on Saturday, I discovered a grove of druids gathered under a great white tent, set up next to the Carls’ rose gardens in celebration and support of the Evelyn Alexander Wildlife Center.

Sipping rosé in flowery tea dresses and nibbling finger foods in seersucker, the Hamptons’ druid population is so secret that they are unknown even to themselves. When asked how long they’ve been practicing druidry, most responded with a mystical, “Huh?” which I took as an opportunity to reintroduce them to their ancient forgotten ways. 

Most were not aware, for example, that the solstice had just passed or even knew what a spirit animal was. “Cat,” Nicky Hilton said, mistaking my question for do you have any pets, though it’s possible one’s pet can also qualify for the job of animal totem, believed to provide spiritual guidance in this or an “other” world.

The only wildlife hospital on the East End, the Evelyn Alexander Wildlife Rescue Center is, of course, filled with spirit animals — should you find an injured bird, fox, or turtle, etc., you can consult its website for tips on how to help and bring it in for care — a few of whom were in attendance at the center’s 12th annual Get Wild! benefit on Saturday, honoring Southampton Town Supervisor Jay Schneiderman and Susan McGraw Keber, an East Hampton Town trustee and children’s book author.

I met an owl called Meep, a falcon called Millenium, and another bird whose name I didn’t catch. I asked Meep who his spirit animal was and received a similarly bewildered response. He rolled his eyes and turned his head in a way that reminded me of one of my exes, then said, “Who?”

Ms. Hilton and Meep weren’t the only ones to be confused by my question, so after getting a few more dog and cat answers, I changed my line, asking Chuck Scarborough if he had been raised by animals instead of humans, which animal family would he prefer.

“I’d have to say apes as I used to love ‘Tarzan’ as a kid. I’d go to the movies every weekend in Ohio just to follow his adventures.” 

“Gorillas,” agreed Joan Carl, who co-owns with her husband, Bernard (“leopards and cheetahs”), the luxury linen firm D. Porthault, for whom my friend, the artist and jewelry designer Laura Lobdell, last year designed a champagne dog pagoda that is nicer than my dream house.

The former world champion boxer Zab Judah, who’d donated his gloves to the silent auction, said, “I’m from Brooklyn, so I was raised by wolves.” 

“Lions,” put in Zab’s friend Meda Leacock, founder of New York City’s growing IAmWondaWoman Foundation, which mentors inner city adolescent girls. She’s hoping to partner with the wildlife center on future activities, providing her girls a chance to interact with wildlife while volunteering. 

“I’ve known the answer to this question my whole life,” said the IAmWondaWoman board member Danielle Beckom, “elephants.” I nodded solemnly. She didn’t have to explain why.

The real estate developer Ken Fishel would want to be raised by lions, “obviously. ’Cause they’re kings of the jungle. It’s all about climbing the ladder.” His wife, Maria, who hails from Ecuador, took a more sensitive turn when she said, “condor,” and carefully explained how “they protect their young, put together their home, and make beautiful nests.”

Tom Van Arsdall of Inspirational Landscaping, who’s volunteered to fix up the center’s grounds, would want to live “among the fluffy,” he said at first, before he curated instead an ideal family of, “horse, beagle, mutt, and turtle.” His partner, Anthony Balducci of TOG Custom Homes, sighed, as if to say, “Again, with the horse, beagle, mutt, and turtle. . . .”

Tom Samet of Hamptons House Design would want to be raised by deer, he confessed, which struck his partner, Nathan Wold, as a practical solution to the East End’s controversial deer problem, about which the wildlife center’s founder, Virginia Frati, known as Ginnie, has spoken extensively. Instead of having hunters “cull the herd” or bring in White Buffalo Inc. to sterilize the doe, we could give them jobs, Nathan offered.

“We could start a deer day care trend and instead of sending kids to preschool, we’d send them into the forests. Maybe we could teach the deer topiary, too. People would feel more kindly to them if instead of eating their flowers they turned their hedges into dinosaurs and other cool things,” Nathan went on, as a blonde in her 60s blew by in gold solstice style necklace, saying to no one in particular, “but don’t those birds bite?” 

“Only if you get fresh,” I said, before she was off to flirt with Meep.

Excitedly, I shared with Nathan and Tom a little of what I’d learned from my weeklong pagan investigations. According to druid lore, faeries are shape-shifters and faerie women particularly often turn themselves into deer, which means we’re surrounded by them.

As I drove home through the midsummer dusk, I recalled my conversation with Monte Farber and Amy Zerner earlier in the week, how they’d told me gently, “druids tend to keep a low profile” when, frustrated, I’d complained of being unable to find any of their groves on Facebook. 

Perhaps it’s less what you see than how you see, I considered, as I reflected on my enchanted evening among the animals and roses and stopped the car short when a faerie, dashing across the road, looked into my eyes.

To read about Iris Smyles’s midweek adventures visit The Star’s website.