Who Does Catherine Marry In 'Catherine, Called Birdy'?

In 'Catherine, Called Birdy', Catherine ends up marrying a man named Shaggy Beard, but not without putting up one heck of a fight first. The whole book is basically her diary of creative sabotage—she tries everything from pretending to be possessed to making herself look utterly unmarriageable. Shaggy Beard is this older, wealthy guy who’s about as romantic as a wet sock, and Catherine’s dad is all for the match because, well, money. The twist? After all her schemes fail, she actually grows to see Shaggy Beard’s kindness beneath the gruff exterior. It’s not love at first sight, but it’s real, and that’s what makes the ending so satisfying.

Karen Cushman’s 'Catherine, Called Birdy' gives us a medieval teen who’s basically the original rebel bride. Catherine’s marriage to Shaggy Beard starts as a nightmare—imagine being traded off to a dude with a name like that. The book’s brilliance is in how it subverts expectations. Shaggy Beard isn’t just some villain; he’s complex. He lets Catherine keep her independence, supports her writing, and even laughs at her pranks. Their relationship evolves from resentment to mutual respect, which feels more authentic than some insta-love trope.

What’s cool is how Catherine’s perspective shifts. Early on, she’s all 'I’d rather eat worms than marry him,' but later, she notices his quiet gestures—like when he buys her inks for her diary or doesn’t punish her for releasing his hunting birds. The marriage becomes a partnership, not a prison. It’s a subtle commentary on how medieval women navigated limited choices, and Catherine’s wit turns a grim situation into something oddly hopeful.

Catherine’s marriage in 'Catherine, Called Birdy' is a masterclass in character growth. Shaggy Beard, her eventual husband, seems like a typical medieval brute at first—loud, unwashed, and obsessed with hunting. But here’s the kicker: he’s the only one who doesn’t try to change her. While her dad wants a docile daughter, Shaggy Beard admires her spirit. Their dynamic is hilarious and heartfelt; she calls him 'toad-faced' to his face, and he just grins. The wedding itself is anti-climactic—no grand romance, just practicality—yet it works because Catherine chooses to find agency within the system.

The real gem is how Cushman avoids fairy-tale endings. Catherine doesn’t escape marriage; she reshapes it. She negotiates terms (like keeping her pet bird), and Shaggy Beard becomes her unlikely ally. It’s a gritty, funny, and surprisingly sweet portrayal of making the best of a bad deal. If you liked this, try 'The Midwife’s Apprentice'—same author, same sharp wit about medieval girlhood.