The Science of Fantasy: Respecting the Ecosystem

For those out there who don’t know me or are visiting for the first time, I’m a speculative fiction author in multiple genres (Kincaid Strange, The Adventures of Owl, Super Secret Sci-Fi). Though I’m best known for urban fantasy, I write in sci-fi and mystery as well. I also have a PhD and my background is absolutely in the sciences.

Laboratories, experiments, genetically modified organisms, big computers and, occasionally, turn of the century regents found in decades old lockers that may require a hazmat team to dispose of (there is a story there I will come back to another day for a science of sci-fi post).

My point is that, because of my background, whenever I want to bring something original to a story – whether it be mystery, fantasy, sci-fi, romance, or horror – my brain’s default is to ask: well, what does the science say?

For instance, let’s look at a perennial fantasy darling that rarely gets an overhaul: the mighty fairy!

Let’s give our ephemeral fairy a science-y makeover, shall well?

Why am I picking on a fairy? I feel like fairies and pixies don’t fit into their fantasy ecosystems. They look a little too much like humans. How did they survive their boreal and grasslands evolution? What advantages did they have over larger predators as they built their civilizations? We have size and the ability to make tools to take on much larger predators in groups with weapons. That logical, evolutionary step doesn’t work for me with the current pop culture manifestation of our picture of a fairy: a miniature human like creature, lithe, feminine leaning, beautiful, with pointed ears and wings.

What eco system do these creatures fill, and do are assumptions make sense? Or, do we have some wiggle room for some scientifically sound room for improvement?

Let’s assume our fairies live in a forest. That’s a safe and recognizable bet. What other creatures live in said forest? Probably predators, much bigger than them, who look upon our fairies as a delectable, slightly crunchy snack – wolves, cats, birds of prey, etc. Perhaps it makes more sense for our fairies to be nocturnal then? When all the other predatory creatures who view them as food are asleep.

What big eyes you have. All the better for seeing at night.

That means they need to have some form of lowlight vision. Owls and some mammals do this by increasing the size of their eyes. I can go for that. Night vision done!

While we’re at it, what do our nocturnal fairies eat? Are they vegetarians? Eating moss, berries, and other vegetation during the night? Possibly, but that leads us with a grazing problem. Herbivores need a higher input of food matter to derive energy, and in some cases, multiple stomachs. That means they’re more vulnerable as they eat, and that’s really all they have time to do. How about an insectivore? Insects provide a nice rounded complement of proteins – meaning our fairies have time for civilization geared activities – are plentiful at night, and would be a great prey for our fairies since they’re also winged and equipped to catch them. Insect capturing sports could be the basis for a thriving nightlife in their cities.

What else helps with chasing insects at night? The wings make it easier, but I’d like to add echolocation. I could see our already elongated ears acting as an amplifier for sound as they flit through the forest at night searching for a wayward moth. It’s the traditional hunting tool of the mighty insect chasing bat!

The more I think about it, the more fairies seem to have in common with the mighty bat. Suited to nocturnal activities, pointed ears, delicate wings?

So what does that leave us with?

‘An apple-sized, nocturnal insectivore with larger than average eyes, that scours the night skies in search of insects, hiding in dark, moss filled hollows, in riverside caves and tucked under the leaves of trees during the days. Perhaps they even evict the odd bird from a coveted enclosed nest. Are they secretive? Probably. Wary of anyone disturbing their forest hunting grounds where they use their unusual songs to track their prey amongst the trees? Most definitely.’

Personally, I think a more modern, and scientific take on a fairy lends it an appearance and evolution that shares more in common with a bat than a small human. Perhaps something like this…

Here’s our nocturnal insectivore evolved for a nighttime boreal existence. Defintely the kind of fairy I could get behind writing about.

Next week, I’ll be looking at the science of romance - young and in love. If you’d like to tune in and stay in the loop, follow me on social media and sign up to my emailing list.