Green Ladies

After discussing glaistigs and gruagachs it makes sense to also touch on green ladies. Although some books give accounts of green ladies as though they are their own type of creature, it seems they are more likely to be a generic term for fairy women of many types, with particular strength, power and dispositions.

Green ladies are particularly found in Scotland and Wales, and are often associated with water and wild places. They live in solitary haunts, and are most often encountered in late evening, by moonlight, and in darkness.

A green lady is a fairy woman usually of human size, dressed all in green. She may change her form at will - taking the shape of another woman, or even an animal such as a dog.

In the form of a dog, she may torment shepherds by driving the sheep in different directions, but she can be more dangerous than just this type of mischief, although her ire is especially directed at those who have wronged her. She is known to be deceptive, and particularly dangerous to unwary travellers, to whom she may appear as herself or as a woman known to them, and drown them at a river ford or lead them over the edge of a cliff. It is difficult to fight her because if you name the weapon you intend to use, it will lose its power against her.

Story Time

Three stories are given below that may give some insight into their nature and how to escape a dire fate at their hands. Two stories are from Wonder Tales from Scottish Mythology by Donald Alexander Mackenzie, and one is from Katherine Brigg’s Dictionary of Fairies: Hobgoblins, Bogies, Brownies and other Supernatural Creatures.

The Green Lady and the Smith

A smith was once riding homewards and came in the evening to a ford in the river, when suddenly a green lady rose out of the water ahead of him.

“Stop!” she called, “you cannot ride across.”

The smith called her evil and said he would smite her if she did not let him cross. He was returning from battle, and felt very sure of himself and his strength.

“What have you to fight with?” She asked, and when he named his sword, it instantly lost its power to harm her. So it happened too with his spear, and then she asked if he had room behind him on his horse for a passenger, for she intended to leap up behind him and terrify him as he rode. But instead, he snatched her up ahead of him in the saddle and twisted the reins about her, claiming that she was now in his power.

“You will never leave the ford!” she cried, but the smith claimed that he had one weapon left, and when she asked what it was, rather than naming the dirk in his stocking, he said “the sharp bright weapon against my leg,” for he had become wise to her tricks, and so it did not lose its power over her. Then the lady grew frightened and asked him to put her down, but he would not, and he rode across the river and up onto the moor.

The green lady offered him a herd of speckled fairy cattle if he would put her down, but he would not. Then she offered him a house that could not be destroyed by fire, water, or storm and was enchanted against evil, and this he agreed to.* Setting her down, with the reins still tied about her, he commanded her to fulfil her promise, and she immediately called to all the small Folk thereabouts who came rushing to her - from fear or loyalty I cannot tell. By the time dawn broke, they had built the house as promised.

Then the lady demanded to be set free, and the smith said he would, if she would promise that she would not drown him or his children in the fords of the three rivers nearby, and he named the rivers. But it had been a long night, and he had forgotten the fourth river, and as soon as he lifted the reins from about her she sprang back and cried “you have not named the fourth river! Let you and your children beware!” Then she went past him like a green flame and vanished.

The smith never saw her again, but seven years later one of his sons was drowned in the ford of the fourth river, and he knew the green lady had taken her revenge.

*It bothers me that only two things were offered - this feels like the rule of three should apply, although perhaps the protection from the three rivers comes in as the third offer.

The Green Lady and the Gwartheg Y Llyn

The Gwartheg Y Llyn (gwarrtheg er thlin) are the fairy cattle of Wales, and if one chooses to join a farmer’s herd, their luck is made. One such fairy cow attached herself to an earthly bull, and the farmer added her to his herd. Oh, how he thanked his stars - the stray cow gave more calves than any other cow, and of such quality! And the milk, butter and cheese were unsurpassed. The farmer quickly became the richest man in the countryside.

But as he became richer, he became meaner and more grasping. He began to think the stray cow no longer produced so many calves or so much milk, and he should find other ways she might serve - in fact, he determined to fatten her for market. The cow was as good at fattening as she had been at anything else - soon she was rounder than any other cow in the herd, and the farmer called for the butcher. All the neighbours gathered to see the end of the cow, for she had become very famous thereabouts.

The butcher raised his sharp knife over the cow, but before he could strike a blow his hand was paralysed and the knife dropped to the ground. A piercing scream rang out from the crag above Llyn Barfog, and the crowd looked up to see a tall woman all in green standing on the crag. She chanted loudly, the words quite clear to those down below:

Come thou, Einion’s Yellow One
Stray Horns, the Particoloured Lake Cow,
And the hornless Dodin,
Arise, come home.

And so chanting, she named all progeny of the stray cow still in the farmers herds - which now made up the bulk of his cattle - and each one, led by the stray cow herself, ran up the mountain side towards the green lady. She formed them into ranks and led them down into the dark waters of the lake. With a last disdainful glance at the farmer, all vanished under the water, and only a cluster of yellow waterlilies marked the place where they had sunk. The farmer became as poor as he had been rich.

The Green Lady and the Fisherman

A poor fisherman once lost his boat, and as he sat weeping on the beach bemoaning his fate, a green lady appeared by him.

“If I give you a new boat, will you divide you fish with me?” she asked, and the fisherman agreed. The next morning he found a new boat lying on the beach. For a long time he kept his word, and left half of every catch he made on the green knoll of the river bank, and the green lady was pleased and helped the man to prosper.

One day however, I cannot tell why, he kept all the fish for himself and left none for the lady. The next day, when he set out, he did not catch a single fish, and he returned home sad and empty handed. He was still sadder the next day, when he came down to the beach and found a sudden storm in the night had smashed his boat to pieces. He never saw the green lady again, and regretted for the rest of his life not keeping his promise.

Glaistigs and Gruagachs

There is much to be said about glaistigs, and much more about gruagachs, and many snippets of stories about both, but I shall try to confine myself to some bare essentials so that we are not here all day.

Both glaistigs and gruagachs are found across Scotland, and there is some overlap where the names may be used interchangeably or their natures may overlap, but in other cases they are quite different.

Glaistigs

Glaistigs appear as women, sometimes human sized, sometimes smaller, often dressed in green and with golden hair. On occasion they may take an animal form, particularly that of a goat, or appear as half goat, half woman. In some accounts, glaistigs were human women adopted by the Folk and given fairy nature and powers.

Glaistigs were sometimes associated with water, but more often with a particular house or neighbourhood. Usually, glaistigs were found around farms and houses, undertaking domestic duties or herding cattle. They took those in need under their protection, particularly old people or children, and were often accompanied by a small child as they went about their work.

Glaistigs who looked after the cattle expected a libation of milk to be provided for them, and this was often left in a hollow in a rock and many different traditions surround it in different areas - such as providing a small amount of milk every night, or all the milk from one cow at the start of each season, not looking back once the milk has been left, leaving milk any time you must pass the rock while carrying milk, and so on. As with any of the Folk, a glaistig might become unpredictable if she felt she had been disrespected, and might punish those seen as disrespectful, or leave the district altogether.

While a glaistig could be murderous and dangerous, this is more when they have been provoked than as an essential part of their nature. There is some suggestion that glaistigs might take the form of a beautiful woman to lure a man to his death, usually one known to him, but this suggestion is leveled at many women of the Folk and the story given (of glaistigs seducing men and leaving them with their throats cut and drained of blood) sounds suspiciously like on more often attributed to the baobhan sith.

It is important not to forget to leave out the libation of milk for the glaistig. And if you have to pass her something, you may want to pass it on the tip of a dagger or something else made of cold iron so that she does not grab your hand and take you away with her - although I warn against trying to trick her into hurting herself, as stories tell she will curse you and all your line.

A glaistig herding cattle.

Gruagach

In the highlands, gruagachs may appear as fairy ladies dressed in green with long hair, often acting as the guardian of cattle. They were associated with water, and were known to come into houses dripping wet and ask to warm and dry themselves by the fire. These are clearly closely related to the glaistigs, and some accounts suggest they are one and the same.

Unlike glaistigs however, gruagachs could also be men - in some areas of the highlands they were handsome, slender young men who wore red and green, and in others they were mostly short, shaggy, and largely naked. Both kinds of gruagach would help out on farms, and like the glaistig would expect a libation of milk to be left out for them, although the young men in particular might also amuse themselves by letting the cattle out of their pens at night and laughing at the farmer.

Finally, the name gruagach was also given to some creatures of immense power, who were more of a giant, a wizard, and a king - and stories are told of humans both challenging and aiding them.

Sometimes a gruagach would come dripping to the fire to dry herself.

Story time

The following are two short, sad stories of both a glaistig and a gruagach that died in helping a human family, but each one indicates the strong relationship between humans and these Folk and how much they were appreciated.

The Grogach of Ballycastle

In Ballycastle there was a farm at which worked a grogach, a spirit much like a gruagach or a brownie - described as having a low stature and a hairy body, with broad shoulders and being very strong.

There was a custom in the farm for the farmer to lay out a number of sheaves of corn in the granary overnight for the grogach to thresh by morning, but one night the farmer forgot to lay out the sheaves and instead left the flail on top of the whole stack of corn.

Alas, the grogach took this to mean that he was to thresh the entire stack, and in the morning he was found dead on top of the grain. The farmer gave him an honest burial and he was long mourned.

The Glaistig of Mull

On the island of Mull there lived a glaistig who was very attached to the Lamont family, and looked after their cattle. Sometimes she would take the form of a dog to better look after the cows.

One day, raiders landed on the island intending to take the cattle and the glaistig took on her dog form and drove the cattle up into the hills away from them. The raiders kept coming, however, and in desperation the glaistig turned all the cattle into great stones so that the raiders could not carry them off.

Once the raiders were gone, however, she could not get the cows to turn back into their original form, and in remorse she drooped and died, despite the best efforts of the family to cheer her and return her to health. The family buried her with respect beside the Sound of Mull.

The Ghillie Dhu

The Ghillie Dhu, sometimes called the Gille Dubh for his black hair, is a solitary member of the Folk, rather than a type of fairy. If you are fortunate, you may encounter him in the birch woods and thickets around the southern end of Loch a Druing, a few miles from Gairloch in Scotland.

The Ghillie Dhu has the appearance of a young man, slender and not especially tall, with black hair and clothes made of tree leaves and green moss. The ghillie suit, a type of camouflage clothing typically used by soldiers, hunters, or nature photographers may draw its name from the Ghillie Dhu.

The Ghillie Dhu is gentle and kind, particularly to children, but you are unlikely to hear him speak - indeed, he has only spoken to one person, that Edith has been able to uncover. You should be careful not to confuse him with others of the Folk who are strongly connected with nature and may be dressed in a similar style - for example the Brown Man of the Muirs, who is a guardian spirit of wild beasts in the border country and much less kindly disposed towards humans.

The Ghillie Dhu is not known to be dangerous, although he may be a little wild, and may help those who come across him, particularly children and those who are lost.

STORY TIME

Jessie McRae and the Ghillie Dhu

This story is drawn in part from ‘Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and Legend’ by Alexander Mackenzie (1917), and in part from Katharine Briggs’ Encyclopaedia of Fairies.

The Ghillie Dhu was well known around Loch a Druing, but although many people had come across him, he never spoke to anyone but young Jessie Mcrae.

One summer evening, in the late 18th century, young Jessie Mcrae was wandering in the woods and became lost. As it began to grow dark she became afraid, but try as she might she could not find the path home. Eventually, footsore and weary, she sat down beneath a fir tree and began to cry.

Suddenly, a voice asked her why she was crying and when she looked up she saw what seemed to be a young man, with black hair, warm brown eyes and a kind smile, and clothes all made of leaves and moss.

“You have been walking every way but the right way,” the Ghillie Dhu told Jessie, “but do not cry, I shall lead you through the wood. I know every path - the rabbit's path, the hare's path, the fox's path, the goat's path, the path of the deer, and the path of men.”

The Ghillie Dhu looked after Jessie with great kindness all night, and in the morning he took her safely home. Sometimes as she followed him he moved so fast through the forest that she thought she would lose him, but he always allowed her to catch up, dancing as he waited. Both Jessie and her family were most grateful.

Many years later, when Jessie was a grown woman and married to John Mackenzie, Sir Hector Mackenzie, the owner of much of the land around Gairloch, invited the other Mackenzies - including John - to join him in a hunt to try to destroy the Ghillie Dhu. They spent some time in John Mackenzie’s barn before heading out into the woods to hunt. Although they searched all night long, they never found a trace of the Ghillie Dhu - and we must imagine Jessie was most relieved. But although the Ghillie Dhu was commonly encountered for many decades before this hunt, he has not been seen around Gairloch since that day.

Names - and why you shouldn't share them!

There is a lot to be said about names but it essentially boils down to ‘don’t give your name to the Folk’ and don’t expect them to share theirs with you. So rather than looking at a particular creature this week, I want to share with you some stories about names.

You will remember the story of Lorntie and the mermaid from a few weeks ago - Lorntie may have been less likely to go into the water if the mermaid had not known his name, giving the impression that a woman he knew was drowning.

While it may seem the Folk have many ways of finding out secrets, usually they will not know your name unless you or somebody else are foolish enough to give it to them, or careless enough to say it aloud somewhere they might hear you. Of course, there is always a counter example to everything when it comes to names - including in this case the story of a good doctor who was rewarded by the Folk for his service at a birth by being given a ring - he found his initials engraved on the band.

While the Folk have their own names, mostly unknown to humans, they can be very offended or even be driven away by have their name found out or by being given a name. However, some names are well known - perhaps it is not a true name, or perhaps it does not hold power . Below are four short stories about Brownies (and one ghost!) and names.

• Meg Moulach or Maggy Moloch was the name of a Brownie about whom a number of stories are told and we shall come back to her another week. Although many knew her name, no harm ever came to her from it.

• In Wales, a Brownie was great friends with a servant girl who had only one fault - her unquenchable curiosity to know his name. When she tricked him into revealing that it was Gwarwyn-a-Throt, he left and she never saw him again.

• A Perthshire Brownie used to cause all sorts of mischief at a burn (a large stream) and people were afraid to pass at night, but one evening a man who had had a few drinks was coming home past the burn and called out “hoo is’t with thee noo, Puddlefoot?” and Puddlefoot hated the name, crying “Oh, oh, I have gotten a name. It’s Puddlefoot they call me!” And with that he vanished and was never seen again.

• In a similar vein to Puddlefoot, Whittinghame was once haunted by the ghost of a little baby that had been buried without a name, and he ran up and down between the tree at which he was buried and the churchyard, wailing “poor nameless me!” and no one dared speak to him. But late one night, a drunk man, too merry to be afraid, called out to him “How’s a wi’ you this morning, Short Hoggers?” The little ghost was delighted with his name - “O weel’s me noo, I’ve gotten a name, they ca’ me Short-Hoggers o’ Whittinghame!” - and ran joyfully off to Heaven. (Short hoggers was a name for babies’ booties.)

A gnomish mother comforting her child with promises of a king’s heart to play with.

story time

Ainsel

In Northumberland, there once lived a very naughty boy who would not go to bed when it was time to sleep. His mother was worried for she knew the faries were around at night (in Northumberland fairies are called faries, pronounced farries) and it was not safe then, but the boy would not go to bed and one evening his mother left him up and went to bed herself.

The little boy was playing by the fire when down out of the chimney came a little fary girl not much smaller than himself and the prettiest thing he had ever seen. “What do they ca’ thou?” he asked her curiously. “Ainsel,” she answered, “and what do they ca’ thou?”. “My Ainsel”, answered the boy cannily and the two began to play together like any other children.

Presently, because it was night time and cold, the little boy stirred up the fire and when he did so a cinder blew out and burnt little Ainsel on the foot. She set up a wailing quite disproportionate to her tiny size: “Wow! I’m brent, I’m brent!” and from the chimney came a terrible voice: “Wha’s done it? Wha’s done it?” The little boy leapt into bed as an old fary mother came down the chimney.

“My ainsel! My ainsel!” cried the little girl.

“Why then,” said the fary mother, “what’s all this noise for? There’s nyon to blame!” and she kicked Ainsel back up the chimney.

Foul Weather

In Cornwall a story is told about a king from a far off land, who wanted above anything else to build the most grand and beautiful cathedral in all the lands around. Unfortunately, the King had been profligate with his spending and had bankrupted his kingdom, and could not afford to build the cathedral.

He went wandering in the woods puzzling away at his problem, and while there he was approach by a little old man - a gnome - who offered to build the cathedral. The King told the little man he had no money left and asked what the man would charge him.

“I won’t charge you anything at all,” said the little man, “provided you can guess my name before the cathedral is complete!”

“And if I can’t guess your name?” asked the King.

“Well,” said the little man, “then I shall take your heart as forfeit.”

The King thought about this, for truly, he wanted the cathedral very much. And he knew that cathedrals took a long time to build, and he was not a young king, having spent many years emptying his kingdom’s coffers. What were the chances that he would still be alive when the cathedral was completed? Slim, he thought, and dead men have no need for hearts.

The King went home feeling quite happy with himself, and during the day no work happened on the cathedral - but at night, an army of gnomish creatures came out of the forest to work on it. Each day the King desperately tried to think of other things to add to it that night, to give himself one more day of life - for he could think of no way to guess the little man’s name. An extra tower! Different carving on the door! A stained glass window! But eventually he had completely run out of additions and despaired of delaying completion any longer.

Once again, he wandered in the forest - and through it, right up into the mountains - trying to think of what else he could add. In the mountains he heard a terrible wailing, and since he did not have much left to live for at this point he headed towards it instead of running away. Peeping into a cave he saw a gnomish mother rocking her baby and singing to it, and the song went something like: “don’t cry, little baby, and soon your dad, Foul Weather, will bring you a king’s heart to play with.”

Well! The King had never heard such a sweet sound in all his life. He ran down from the mountain, through the forest and through his city until he came to the cathedral, and there on the tallest tower the little man was putting the finishing touch on the building, affixing the golden weathercock.

The King cupped his hands and called up to him “mind you set it straight, Foul Weather!” At that, the little man fell with a crash straight down from the tower, and was broken into smithereens, as if he had been made of glass*. And the weathercock on that cathedral has been crooked from that day to this.

*In many stories when a name is discovered it merely results in the creature losing their power over the human, and vanishing - which is the way I prefer to tell this tale. But in others, including Katharine Briggs’ retelling of Foul Weather (and in Rumpelstiltskin), it results in the death of the creature. Perhaps in order to make a bargain that may result in a dire outcome for a human, they have to commit to an equally destructive consequence for themselves if they fail?

Bean Si and Bean Nighe

While you may have heard of the banshee - the fairy woman weeping for the death of members of certain old families - there is much more to the bean si (banshee) of Ireland and the bean nighe (ben neeyeh) and caoineag (konyack) of the Scottish highlands and islands.

This week we will consider where you might find these Folk, how you would identify them or tell them apart, and of course whether they present a danger and how to protect yourself if so.

Edith has only come across fragments of stories concerning the bean si and the bean nighe, some of which are included below.

Where

The bean si is found across Ireland, and may be seen at the houses of people about to die, peering in the windows, crouched beneath the trees, or even flying past in the moonlight.

The bean nighe, also known as the Little Washer by the Ford, may be found in desolate and wild places in the highlands and islands of Scotland, always by a stream in which she washes the blood-stained clothes of those about to die.

The caoineag, like the bean nighe, is found in Scotland. A local form, the caointeach, is found specifically in Argyllshire, Skye and some of the neighbouring islands.

How to identify the bean si and bean nighe

The bean si has long streaming hair and a grey cloak over a green dress. Her eyes are fiery red from continual weeping. To see more than one bean si together suggests the oncoming death of someone very great or holy. One account from the 1600s tells of a bean si who at one o’clock in the morning appeared at the window of a house, greatly frightening an Englishwoman who was visiting at the time. At two o’clock that night, a member of the household passed away. The woman in the window was dressed in white, with red hair and a terribly pale complexion, and she vanished after three utterances, with her body looking more like a thick cloud than anything of substance.

The bean nighe is usually described as smaller, still dressed in green, and sometimes with red webbed feet. Descriptions of the bean nighe often focus claim she has one nostril, one large protruding tooth, and long dangling breasts that she throws over her shoulders as she washes - however, these descriptions are localised to Mull and Tiree in the inner Hebrides, and are not a necessary part of the bean nighe’s appearance.

The caoineag (or ‘weeper’) is usually not seen, only her wails are heard in the darkness near waterfalls before a catastrophe. The caointeach of the Islands specifically however, is said to look like a child or very little woman, in a short green gown and petticoat with a high-crowned white cap, and a green mourning shawl.

The Bean Nighe.

Danger and protection

The bean si and the bean nighe portend evil but they do not cause it. It may be better if you do not come across them - indeed, imagine wandering by a stream in the wilderness and ahead you see a strange woman washing blood-stained clothing over and over in the stream. As you grow closer, you realise that you recognise the clothing…

One story of the bean nighe tells of a girl in Cromarty in the north of Scotland, who was walking by the loch one morning and came across a tall woman in the water washing clothes against a rock. When the girl looked about her she saw more than thirty shirts and smocks laid out on the grass, all covered in blood. Shortly after this, the roof of Fearn Abbey collapsed during the service, killing 36 people. This can be traced to a true event in 1742 - the official death toll of the roof collapse is closer to 50 people.

There is no clear protection from what is foretold by the bean si. However, the brave may approach the bean nighe - carefully. If they are able to get between her and the water, she may offer them three wishes, or three true answers - but she will demand three true answers in return. Stories from Mull and Tiree suggest that if a human is able to come close enough to suckle at her breast (truly, that must require significant stealthiness on the part of the human or absent-mindedness from the bean nighe!), they may claim to be her foster child and ask a wish from her.

If you ask the bean nighe whose clothes she is washing you will have a choice - if it is an enemy, let her continue and they will die. If it is someone you care for, you can try to interrupt her washing and save them. But, those seeking to try this should beware - if anyone interrupts the caointeach, who is often indistinguishable from the bean nighe, she will strike their legs with her wet linen and they will lose the use of those limbs. The caointeach may mourn for a specific family and it is said that like a Brownie, she may be laid if gifted clothing, and never come back to mourn for them again.

Dogs - part two: Wild Packs and Shapeshifters

Last week we looked at some of the (slightly) friendlier dogs you might find in the folklore wilderness - show respect, don’t touch or talk to them unless it is to help them, and it is unlikely you will come to harm.

But what of the more sinister dogs, the hunting packs and those that aren’t truly dogs at all?

As always, today we’ll look at how you might identify them, where you might find them, and how you might survive them.

Bogey-beast and shapeshifting dogs

Some dogs you might encounter in the wilds are not dogs at all, but shapeshifters and bogey-beasts. This is a larger category and we will come back to it over time as there are many creatures of the Folk that belong to this group.

Two notable shapeshifters that often take the form of a large, shaggy black dog with fiery eyes (in appearance indistinguishable from the black dogs of last week) are the Barguest and the Capelthwaite. Both may also appear in other forms - the Barguest has been known to appear with horns and claws, while the Capelthwaite could take any shape but preferred that of a dog.

The Barguest may be found Leeds and Lincolnshire, and is often considered a portent of death, appearing before or after the death of a person of note. It may also haunt a particular place - for example, an old barn near Willoughton Cliff was haunted by a barguest named ‘Hairy Jack’ by the locals.

The Capelthwaite was a bogey beast found in Westmorland. He lived in a barn on a farm and was friendly to the people of that farm, even helping to round up their sheep and cattle. However, he could be both spiteful and mischievous towards strangers and in the end caused so much trouble that the locals felt the need to ‘lay’ him, or send him away, with all due ceremony at the local river. He has not been seen in the area since.

Another worth noting is the Galley-Trot, which is an apparition rather than a shapeshifter or a true dog, taking the form of a very large (the size of a bull), shaggy white dog. The Galley-Trot is found in the North Country and in Suffolk.

Danger and protection

There are differing accounts of the danger posed by the Barguest, but on Edith’s recommendation we will stick to the account provided by Katharine Briggs, which suggests the Barguest is more likely to be a warning or symbol of death, rather than to cause injury or death. In one account it is driven away by a man who showed no fear of it - a possible form of protection against the Folk - although overall like the black dogs it should not be approached or spoken to.

As outlined above, the Capelthwaite is more likely to be mischievous or even spiteful, but not downright malicious, and may be laid with the appropriate ceremonies.

The Galley-Trot will pursue those who run from it - ‘gally’ means ‘to frighten’ - and your best protection will be to stand your ground and show no fear.

dog packs

The dog packs should be divided between those that are again a portent of death, and those that wreck actual destruction. In the former category, we find the Cwn Annwn (koon anoon) (the Welsh hell hounds), the Gabriel Ratchets (particularly to be found in Lancashire), and the Wish Hounds of Dartmoor and Cornwall.

The Cwn Annwn are best known for the their howling - from far away it is a loud cry, full of wild lamentation, but the closer they come to you, the softer their voice will sound. The Gabriel Hounds, or Gabriel Ratchets (a ratchet being an old word for a hound that hunts by scent), make a sound like the cries and wing-beats of migratory birds, especially geese. They are said to appear as monstrous dogs with human heads, who travelled high in the air. The Wish Hounds, also known as Yell-hounds or Yeth-hounds, are spectral, headless dogs that hunt in a pack.

The more dangerous dog packs include the Devil’s Dandy Dogs, the Dando Dogs, and the Wild Hunt. The former two have a strong religious link - the hunts are led by the Devil or by wicked, condemned priest - while the Wild Hunt is composed of black dogs and huntsmen on black horses or bucks.

These hunts have seen throughout England, and unlike the Gabriel Ratchets, travel along or just above the ground rather than through the air. They are said to hunt for human souls. While the best protection is to run and seek shelter, it has been suggested that prayer may hold them back.

The dogs of the Wild Hunt.

story time

The barguest

This story is copied directly Hone’s Every-Day Book and Table Book, volume 3 (1827) to maintain the dialect in which the story was given and recorded.

You see, sir, as how I'd been a clock dressing at Gurston (Grassing-ton), and I'd staid rather lat, and maybe getten a lile sup o' spirit; but I war far from being drunk, and knowed everything that passed. It war about eleven o'clock when I left, and it war at back end o' t' year, and a most admirable neet it war. The moon war verra breet, and I nivver seed Kylstone Fell plainer in a' my life. Now, you see, sir, I war passing down t' Mill loine, and I heerd summat come past me - brush, brush, brush, wi' chains rattlin' a' the while, but I seed nothing; and I thought to myself, now this is a most mortal queer thing. And I then stuid still and luiked about me; but I seed nothing at aw, nobbut the two stane wa's on each side o' t'mill loine. Then I heard again this brush, brush, brush, wi' the chains; for you see, sir, when I stood still it stopped, and then, thowt I, this mun be a Barguest, that sae much is said about; and I hurried on toward t' wood brig; for they say as how this Barguest cannot cross a watter; but, Lord, sir, when I gat o'er t' brig, I heerd this same again: so it mun either have crossed t' watter or have gone round by the spring heed! (About 30 miles).

And then I became a valiant man, for I were a bit freekend afore; and, thinks I, I'll turn and hev a peep at this thing; so I went up Greet Bank towards Linton, and heerd this brush, brush, brush, wi' the chains aw the way, but I seed nothing; then it ceased all of a sudden. So I turned back to go hame; but I'd hardly reached the door when I heerd again this brush, brush, brush, and the chains going down towards t' Holin House; and I followed it, and the moon there shone verra breet, and I seed its tail! Then thowt I, thou owd thing, I can say I'se seen thee now; so I'll away hame.

When I gat to the door there was a grit thing like a sheep, but it war larger, ligging across the threshold o' t' door, and it war woolly like; and I says, 'Git up!' and it wouldn't git up. Then says I, 'Stir thysel!' and it wouldn't stir itself. And I grew valiant, and I raised t' stick to baste it wi'; and then it luiked at me, and sich oies, they did glower, and war as big as saucers and like a cruelled ball. First there war a red ring, then a blue one, then a white one; and these rings grew less and less till they cam to a dot! Now I war none feared on it, tho it grin'd at me fearfully, and I kept on saying, 'Git up', and 'Stir thysel', and the wife heerd as how I war at t' door, and she came to oppen it; and then this thing gat up and walked off, for it war mare freeten'd o' t'owd wife than it war o' me; and I told the wife, and she said as how it war Barguest; but I never seed it since - and that's a true story.

Dogs - part one: Fairy Dogs and Black Dogs

I suppose we should discuss the many dogs of the Folk early, as I know my dear readers and dogs, and many of you are fully likely to run up to any dog you see calling it a ‘good boy’, which may not be wise with all the fae dogs you will find on your adventures.

We will take two weeks to consider dogs - I know this will delight some of you! However, be warned that the dogs we are looking at today are on the whole more friendly than those of next week…

Below you will find, for each type of dog, some information about where you might find it, how to identify it by appearance and behaviour, whether it is dangerous and how to protect yourself if so. We shall end with two stories showing different sides of the black dogs.

black dogs

There are many stories of black dogs found across the British Isles, Ireland and beyond. Black dogs are usually described as large and shaggy in appearance, the size of a calf, with fiery eyes. While it is almost impossible to tell them apart simply from appearance, the black dogs should be distinguished from the shapeshifters that may occasionally take the form of a dog. They should also be held apart from the Cu Sith, which is dark green and less sinister, although of a similar size. Stories do distinguish on occasion between the black dogs that are a portent or even cause of death, and the guardian black dogs.

Adventurers are advised to be exceptionally careful when confronted with any large black dog alone at night. In particular, they should avoid speaking to or touching the dog, and to always treat it with caution and respect.

Guardian Black Dogs

Usually big black dogs are either a warning or a cause of death, but guardian dogs are different, guiding travellers, sometimes seeing them to their destination then vanishing, only to reappear to see them home.

Usually, to touch a black dog will mean dire trouble for a human, but in one story a man became lost on the cliff tops near his house when the sea mists came up suddenly and so thickly that he could hardly see his own hands before his face. Feeling around he touched shaggy fur and thought his dog must have come to find him from home where he had left it. He held on to the dog’s fur and the dog led him to his house. It was only as he approached the door and heard barking inside that he realised it had not been his dog he was holding on to. He looked down at the dog guiding him and it slowly grew larger and larger then faded away.

Another story tells of a group of fishermen who waited in Peel Harbour for their skipper to take them out for a night of fishing. All night they waited and yet the skipper never arrived. In the early morning, a sudden gale sprang up in which the boat might well have been lost had they put to sea. When the crew finally found the skipper, he said that his way to them had been blocked all night, no matter which path he took, by a large black dog.

fairy dogs

Domesticated fairy dogs may be divided into two types - the Cu Sith, and the hunting hounds.

Cu Sith

The Cu Sith are found in the highlands of Scotland and as a rule were kept by the Folk inside a Brugh, which is like a borough or fairy community rather than a single household, where they acted as watch dogs. But they might also roam free in the world above, where they will be found roaming the highlands at night and sheltering in clefts in the rocks during the day.

The Cu Sith can be identified by sight, sound, and by the tracks they leave. In appearance they are very large (the size of a yearling bullock), shaggy, and - strikingly - dark green in colour. The observant adventurer might also notice that their tails coil up on their backs or are sometimes plaited. When hunting, the Cu Sith do not bark continuously but will give three loud bays, so loud in fact that they have been heard by ships out to sea. Their large paws leave prints the size of a man's footprints in the mud or snow, but with the exception of those three cries, they move silently.

The Cu Sith should be distinguished from other dogs of the Folk by their colour, although their great size is not unique to them. The Cu Sith might be taken out by the fairy women as they roamed the hills looking for human cattle to milk or steal away.

Any human would be wise to avoid a confrontation with a Cu Sith, but as a general rule they are uninterested in attacking humans and some stories have even suggested they may be driven off by a pack of human dogs if they take too great an interest in human dwellings.

Hounds of the Hill

The hounds of the hill are the hunting dogs of the Folk, mostly to be found in England, especially Somerset. They live in the hollow hills and come out to accompany the fairy hunts. They are large, like most dogs of the Folk (described by one source as the size of a calf), and have a rough white coat and red ears.

The hounds of the hill are not known to be dangerous to humans. Their main purpose is to hunt for fairy deer, rather than the more sinister hunts for human souls that are the province of the wilder packs, as we shall discuss next week.

A good turn may be rewarded by the hounds. A young labourer once treated the sore paws of a hound of the hill, using wet dock leaves. Later, the boy was going through a haunted wood where he was attacked by a spectral goat, and the same hound appeared and rescued him.

A Cu Sith of the Folk.

story time

the moddey dhoo

The Moddey Dhoo (moor tha do) or the Mauthe Doog of Peel Castle was the best known of the Black Dogs on the Isle of Man. Each night, the great, shaggy black dog would come silently into the guardroom of the castle and stretch out before the fire. No one knew where he came from or who he belonged to, and they did not dare speak to him and always travelled in pairs when he was near.

One evening one of the guards, heavily in his cups, taunted his companions for their fear and mocked the dog. He dared the dog to follow him and rushed out of the room alone. The dog slowly stood up, stretched out, and padded out of the room after the man. A short while later the remaining guards heard a terrible scream and the drunken man staggered back into the room pale, shivering and speechless. He took to his bed in silent horror and three days later he died, while the dog was never seen at the castle again.

the black guardian dog

One dark night Johnnie Greenwood had to ride through woods a mile long to reach a house he had need to visit. At the entrance to the wood, he was joined by a large black dog that padded along quietly beside his horse. He did not know where it had come from, but it never left him while he was in the wood, and even when it grew so dark between the trees that he could not see it, still he could hear its faint pattering beside him. When he emerged from the wood into the moonlit night, the dog had disappeared.

Johnnie paid his visit, and then had to return through the wood. Again, at the entrance the dog joined him and accompanied him through the wood. Johnnie said not a word to the dog, and never touched it, and as he emerged it was no longer by his side.

Years later, two condemned prisoners in York gaol told the chaplain that they had intended to rob and murder Johnnie Greenwood that night in the dark woods, but when they saw the large dog with him they were afraid and stayed hidden in the trees.

Merrows

For the final week of May, we will look at the Irish mermaids - the merrows.

Where might you encounter a merrow?

Merrows are found in the seas and coastal areas around Ireland.

How to identify a merrow

Various descriptions of merrows suggest they may have long flowing green hair or greenish scales on their tails. Merrows are said to have webs between their fingers, as do their offspring - even those that are part-human, which may also sometimes be covered in scales.

The main distinguishing feature of a merrow, and what sets them apart from other merfolk, are their caps, the cohuleen druith. The caps have been variously described as red or made of feathers, although the latter may be due to a confusion around the purpose of the cap being similar to a swan maiden's feather cloak, in that it let a merrow return to their people and the sea in their mermaid form.

The cap lets a merrow swim beneath the sea - taking it off, they appear just like a human. There are some stories similar to selkie tales, in which humans have stolen the red cap of a merrow to force her to stay ashore with them as a bride. However, unlike the selkies, merrows are said to seek out and fall in love with sailors and fisherman. This is often a loving, consensual and committed relationship - although one that should be entered into with caution as the merrow will undoubtedly eventually return to the sea.

Merrow men

The male merrows are consistently described as hideous or ugly, with green skin, green teeth, a sharp red nose, pig-like eyes, and short arms like flippers. This description seems to have originated in the story of the Soul Cages (our story this week), and been repeated uncritically since. The lack of authenticity in this story (more on that later) should give us pause.

The ugliness of male merrows has also been given as a reason for merrow women seeking the company of human men, which, Edith suggests, sounds like a story designed to make humans feel better about themselves and to excuse the theft of merrow brides if none came willingly.

Edith recommends we take this description of the male merrow with a grain of salt.

Are merrows dangerous?

Merrows are known as jovial and friendly towards humans, although they can sometimes appear before storms, which should be taken as a warning to reach shelter.

Coomara the merrow with the soul cages.

story time

I must confess straight up that today’s story is likely not an authentic folktale. However, the tale is lovely, and its authenticity or otherwise makes for a fascinating story all on its own: a greedy folklorist who did not credit his sources; a story passed off as genuine Irish folklore but actually based on German folklore, which may have been written in revenge against the folklorist; correspondence and confessions to the brothers Grimm; and a claim that after publication (and too soon for the published story to have made its way into folklore) the author had in fact come across the story in Ireland.

For a detailed account of the controversy, have a look at this entry from Writing in the Margins.

The version of the story provided below is a much shortened version of that given by Katharine Briggs in her Encyclopedia of Fairies, which is by far the most charming version of the story I have come across.

THE SOUL CAGES

Jack Dogherty lived with his wife Biddy by the seashore near Ennis, and he wanted nothing more in his life than to see a merrow. His grandfather had been so friendly with a merrow that, if it wouldn’t have offended the priest, he’d have asked the merrow to be godfather to his children, and it galled Jack that he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of one.

One day Jack thought he spotted a merrow in the distance and from then on he hung around the merrow’s rock day in and day out until eventually one blowy day he got right up close to it. The merrow turned to him, rolling a friendly eye and said ‘Good day to you, Jack Dogherty, and how have you been keeping this while back?’

Jack was very surprised that the merrow knew his name, but the merrow said why wouldn’t he know Jack’s name, when he had been like a brother to Jack’s grandfather? And he went on at length about what a great man the grandfather had been, and praised his ability to drink in particular. Jack assured the merrow that he was his grandfather’s equal in that respect, and the merrow promised Jack that if he met him by the same rock the following Monday they would discuss it further, then dived into the sea.

The next Monday Jack was by the rock sure enough and there was the merrow, with his red cap on his head and another in his hands. Jack took some convincing to put on the cap, but when the merrow said that Jack’s grandfather had never hesitated to visit him in his underwater home, well, Jack could hardly let that stand. He put on the cap and dived into the water with the merrow, who drew him down deep until they landed on some soft sand, and there was air about them and water overhead with fish swimming in it.

The merrow made Jack a good dinner of all kinds of fish, and they had a good drink of all kinds of spirits, then the merrow - who told Jack his name was Coomara - took Jack to see his collection of curiosities that had dropped down out of the sea. What puzzled Jack most was a row of wicker baskets, a bit like lobster pots, and he asked Coomara what they were.

“Those,” replied the merrow, “are the soul cages, for the souls of the fishermen lost at sea. Whenever there is a storm above I sprinkle the cages about, and when the souls come down cold and frightened, having just lost their men, they creep in for warmth and then can’t get out again. And aren’t they just so lucky to have such a warm, dry place to stay?” Jack didn’t say a thing, but he thought he heard a little sob from one cage when Coomara spoke of their good luck.

When he got home Jack could not stop thinking about the poor souls. It was clear that Coomara meant well, so Jack didn’t like to ask the Priest for help and get Coomara into trouble. Eventually he settled on a plan - he would invite Coomara to his house, get him very drunk, then take his cap and nip down to free the souls before Coomara awoke.

The first attempt went poorly, for the merrow drank Jack under the table and very merry he was about it too. But the second time Jack invited him to drink some real Irish potcheen, which Coomara had not tried before - and Jack may have watered his own drink a little to help things along. Before long Coomara was snoring and Jack had whisked off his cap and was down to free the souls from their cages. Once the souls had slipped out - Jack saw nothing but a flicker of light and heard a sound like a faint whistle - he put the cages back just as he’d found them and swam up as fast as he could to his house where Coomara was still asleep.

After that, every time there was a big storm, Jack would contrive a way to go down and free any new souls that had been caught. And Coomara and Jack stayed good friends, for the merrow never noticed that the soul cages were empty.

Mermaids - part two

As mentioned last week, we will continue our preparation for surviving the wilds of folklore with another week of mermaids, given the breadth of mermaid lore to be found around the British Isles.

We have previously covered where might you find a mermaid, how would you identify one, and whether they are dangerous. Below you will find a case study of two and a half mermaid stories where mermaids have been helpful or kind - although not necessarily to humans.

How can you tell which mermaids might help you?

The short answer is, you can’t - all mermaids have the potential to be dangerous and should be treated as such. However, Scandinavian mermaids on the whole do seem to be gentler than those of the British Isles (particularly Scotland), and especially the Scandinavian mermen, with their green and black beards, who live on the cliffs and shore hills as well as in the sea. Edith has written a long and flowery description that focuses overmuch on the supposed good looks of these mermen; I have chosen not to insult your sensibilities by reproducing it here.

You are also more likely to find help from a mermaid if you have helped her, although this is not a given. Mermaids (and indeed, many women of the Folk associated with water such as the Lake Maidens and Selkies) are known to have a wealth of medical knowledge, including an almost bizarre knowledge of herbs for a creature that lives where they cannot grow. Mermaids have traded medical advice with their favourites, and bestowed it on those in desperate straights. Edith has come across as least two accounts of their advice around the use of mugwort and nettles to cure consumption (tuberculosis) in young women.

story time

I mentioned earlier three and a half stories. Lutey and the mermaid is a particularly well-known mermaid story, and The Old Man of Cury appears to be a variant on this rather than a unique story in its own right. However, I felt it worth including here as it is a surprisingly charming story and I particularly enjoyed the imagery of the old many carrying the mermaid on his back, which our illustrator has chosen to focus on this week.

Lutey and the mermaid

Lutey was a Cornish fisherman and wrecker who lived with his wife and children near Lizard Point at the southernmost tip of Britain. One day while combing the beach for jetsam, accompanied by his dog, Lutey came across a mermaid who had been stranded in a rockpool by the receding tide. She persuaded him to carry her down to the sea and she offered him three wishes in return.

Lutey was a good man, and so he chose wishes that would do good, rather than things for his own benefit: the power to break the spells of witchcraft, the power to compel familiar spirits for the good of others, and that these powers should continue in his family line. Because Lutey had wished for unselfish things, the mermaid gave him her comb, with which he could call her by combing the sea, and promised none of his family would come to harm.

However, as they reached the water, the other side of the mermaid’s nature took a stronger hold, and she tightened her grip on Lutey’s neck and tried to allure him to come with her into the ocean. So strong was her allurement that Lutey would have gone with her but for his faithful dog. It howled on the shore and when Lutey looked back at it, he saw on the cliff above the sea the cottage in which he lived with his wife and children, and this gave him the strength to tell the mermaid to let him go. But by this point they were almost waist-high in the water and she tried to draw him in by force. Lutey was able to flash his knife in her face, the cold iron repelling her. She plunged into the sea but as she went she called back to him ‘farewell my sweet, for nine long years, then I’ll come for thee my love.’

Sure enough, nine years to the day after he met the mermaid, Lutey was in his boat with one of his sons when the mermaid rose out of the sea and called to him. ‘My hour is come’, he said, and dove into the water never to be seen again. Indeed, so strong was the mermaid’s call, it is said that every nine years one of Lutey’s descendants was lost to the seas. But she also kept her promise and the powers Lutey had asked for continued in his line, with his descendants famous for their skill as healers.

The Old Man of Cury sometimes took the mermaid on his back to see the strange sights of the land people. Mermaids in medieval texts were sometimes drawn wearing human clothes - in this instance, it seems the old fisherman has lent her one of his jumpers to keep her warm.

the old many of cury

Once upon a time an old fisherman of Cury was walking on the beach at low tide when he saw a girl sitting on a rock up ahead. As he watched her, she seemed to fall off the rock into the pool below it. He hurried over to help her, but when he reached the pool he realised she was no human girl but a mermaid girl who had been cut off from the sea. She begged him to take her down to the sea, and the old man put her on his back and carried her across the long stretch of sand to the water.

In return for his help the mermaid offered him three wishes. The old man said he had no need of money but would like to be able to help others, and so at his request the mermaid agreed to give him the power to break spells, discover thefts, and cure illnesses.

But these are skills that must be taught, so the mermaid promised that if the old man would meet her by the rock where he had found her on nights with a high tide and a bright moon, she would teach him. She gave him the comb from her hair so that he could call her by combing the sea, then she slipped off his back, blew him a kiss, and vanished beneath the surface.

She was as good as her word, and the old man learnt many things from her that he put to good use. In return, sometimes he would carry her on his back to see the strange land people, although he never accepted her invitation to visit her under the waves*. The comb and some measure of skill stayed in the man’s family for some generations after his death.

*it should be noted that the mermaid took a considerable risk here, as we shall see in the next story, and must have felt very safe with the old man.

The mermaid and the selkie skin

In the Shetland Isles a seal hunter once stunned a seal and took its skin before throwing its body back into the water. But the seal was a selkie man and he regained consciousness in the water. Somehow, cold and in misery, he made his way deep under water until he found a cave in which lived a mermaid.

The mermaid could see no way to help the selkie but to get his skin back, and no way to do this but to let herself be caught and ask for it to be returned. She let herself be drawn up in the boat’s fishing nets, where she begged the hunters for the skin. The man who had thrown the seal back into the sea was full of remorse when he heard this story and pleaded with his friends to release her, but they were greedy and decided instead they would sell her on the land. Deaf to her pleas they set sail at once, leaving her tangled in the net, laid on the sealskin in the bottom of the boat.

Unlike most mermaids (and more like an Asrai, which we will discuss another week), she could not survive long in the upper air and she felt herself fading. All she could hope was that her death would release a storm that might sink the boat and wash the selkie skin back down to her cave - and so it happened. The boat sunk and the skin and the mermaid’s body were both washed down to the cave, where the selkie was able to draw on his skin again and to know the debt that he and his people owed to the mermaid.

Mermaids - part one

Continuing our theme for the month of May (our illustrator insists this is essential, and who am I to argue), we will be covering mermaids both this week and next. Stories of mermaids are so diverse and so many - indeed, from all over the world, although we shall confine ourselves to the folklore of the British Isles and surrounds, as always - that we would be hard pressed to cover them in one post.

Below you’ll find

1. Where you might encounter a mermaid

2. How to identify them

3. Are they dangerous? (oh goodness yes)

4. How to survive

5. Story time!

where to find a mermaid

Mermaids are to be found in all the waters around the British Isles - most often in the seas, but they have also been known to swim up rivers and even inhabit freshwater lakes. Some live in underwater caves. Sailors come across them sitting on rocks both by the shore and out to sea.

How to identify them

Mermaids are distinguished by their fish tail and human upper body. Many stories also suggest they are likely to carry a comb and mirror, and be seen combing out their long and beautiful hair while singing with irresistible sweetness. While mermaids are typically described as human in size and beautiful, some Celtic descriptions of mermaids had them as monstrous beings. One that was supposed to have washed ashore around 887AD was 160ft in length, with hair 18ft long, and fingers and nose each 7ft. Truly, if she wanted to sink your ship, she would have no need to raise a storm.

Mermaids should be distinguished from merrows, which we shall discuss another week, as their behaviour is notably different. The mermaid of the highlands is sometimes known as the Ceasg (keeask), and has the tail of a young salmon - in some stories it is suggested that she can take it off, like a selkie takes off her seal skin, to appear fully human. The offspring of any union between the Ceasg and a human are likely to become exceptionable pilots and navigators of ships.

are they dangerous?

The danger of mermaids depends very much on where you are. Tucked up in bed, they’re just a thrilling tale. On the rocks by the seaside? They’re a risky yet tantalising prospect. On the high seas, in boat of dubious sturdiness? They may be death incarnate.

Mermaids love to lure humans into the water, and are quite happy with anything from seduction to drowning to devouring when it comes to their victims. They’re also capable of raising great ship-sinking storms, which may destroy an entire fleet.

They’re also capable of tenderness, helpfulness, and the granting of wishes - some of which we will touch on in stories next week.

how to survive

The best way to survive a mermaid is not to go near the ocean, or any large body of water. Not very practical advice, however, particularly for those who make a living from the sea. The next best way to survive is to be aware of mermaids and their charms - if you come across a beautiful woman in a body of water, and you find yourself thinking that you would like to be in the water with her, be alert to trickery and question whether you are acting of your own accord. Mermaids can occasionally be driven off by cold iron (see next week’s story). Mermaids are more likely to raise a storm in vengeance than malevolence, so remember to be respectful and do not try to harm them.

If you have the opportunity to do a mermaid a good turn - most often carrying her back to the water if she becomes stranded - such an act is likely to bring you good fortune. However, beware her allurements the deeper you carry her into her own domain.

Lorntie and the mermaid

story time

lorntie and the mermaid

In Forfarshire, Scotland, there once lived a young Laird - the Laird of Lorntie. One evening as he returned from a successful hunt, accompanied only by two greyhounds and a manservant, he happened to pass a solitary lake not three miles from home, surrounded by a dark and watchful wood.

As their path drew near the lake, from between the trees the laird heard the cry of a woman in distress - it sounded as though she was drowning in the lake! He spurred his horse through the trees and saw a beautiful woman struggling in the water not too far from the shore, and, it seemed to him, at the very moment of sinking. She appeared to recognise him and called out, ‘Help! Help, Lorntie! Help Lor-’ then the waters closed over her head and caught the last word before she could finish it.

In a flash Lorntie had leapt into the water, his good heart full of fear for the woman and unable to resist the impulse to save her. He reached for her long yellow locks, which lay like strands of gold on the surface, when suddenly he was seized from behind by his faithful manservant and dragged ashore. The manservant, more wise to the ways of the wilds and perceptive than his master, had seen what Lorntie hadn’t.

‘Bide, Lorntie - bide a blink!’ he cried, as Lorntie would have dashed him aside and leapt back in. ‘That wauling madam was nae other, God sauf us! than the mermaid.’ Confronted with this claim, Lorntie immediately saw the truth in front of him, and it was confirmed as he mounted his horse. The mermaid rose half out of the water and exclaimed in a voice of fiendish disappointment and ferocity

Lorntie, Lorntie,
Were it na your man,
I had gart your heart’s bluid,
Skirl in my pan.

[skirl (Scots): to sizzle, crackle and sputter in a frying pan]