I’ve always been fascinated by cows. When I was a kid, we would visit my aunt and uncle’s ranch in Oregon for a few weeks each summer. They raised cattle, and I loved to walk out in the fields to look at the cows. On one trip, I went walking along the road that bordered the ranch. My uncle was down in the field with one of the cows, but he saw me and hollered for me to come down the embankment to the field.

He sounded urgent, so I hustled. When I reached him, I discovered that the cow was in labor. She was very close to birthing her calf. It was exciting to watch, and if I remember correctly, the birth went smoothly. My uncle let me name the calf, and I decided upon “Violet” because her eyes seemed to be a purple-blue at birth.

Perhaps because my memories of these summers have stayed with me, cows play a role in both the short story and the novel I’m working on. And they have inspired this month’s folklore topic!

“Cows of Abundance” in the British Isles

In the British Isles, there are many legends and tales of a magical cow that produces seemingly limitless amounts of milk. Often she is considered to be a heavenly cow, but sometimes she is described as a faerie cow.

Her name changes depending on the location, but her stories share many similarities. In some places in England she is known as the Dun Cow, but in Shropshire she is called the White Cow. In Wales there are tales of Y Fuwch Frech and Y Fuwch Gyfeiliorn. And in Ireland, this mythological cow is known as Glas Ghaibhleann.

I find these legends interesting because they explore the interplay of human behavior, the cow and her nourishing milk, and the effect of greed. I thought we’d look at some of the different regional stories featuring this magical cow, then end with an early medieval tale about her.

The Dun Cow of Kirkham

From Lancashire comes a legend of a very large dun cow that once roamed the moors. She was a generous cow, and she shared her milk with all who approached her.

According to John Harland and T. T. Wilkinson, authors of Lancashire Legends: Traditions, Pageants, Sports, &c. With an Appendix Containing a Rare Tract on the Lancashire Witches, &c. &c., this “wonderful cow” consistently filled the milk pail, no matter the size, and always to the brim. Her ample milk supply became well known, and people came from all over Lancashire seeking a full pail.

But one day, a witch arrived to milk the cow. Instead of a milk pail, though, the witch used a sieve. Harland and Wilkinson explain that while the witch milked the cow all day, and “the milk flowed in rich and copious streams,” by night the sieve remained empty. In the end, the cow’s mighty effort to fill the sieve (which by its nature cannot be filled), resulted in her death.

As a sort of memorial to the Dun Cow, one of her ribs was placed over the door of an old farmhouse (known as the “Old Rib”) in the parish of Kirkham. Not only did the rib serve as a reminder of this magical cow, but it also alluded to her famed size. Harland and Wilkinson write: “… the rib in its pristine proportions must have been ‘very like a whale,’ as Polonius says—at least, a whale’s jaw-bone.”

The White Cow

The story of the White Cow takes place in the moorland in the west of Shropshire during a time of famine. To survive, the people in the area depended on a faerie cow (pure white in her coloring), which came to Corndon Hill at morning and night in order for people to milk her.

Much like the Dun Cow, the White Cow always had plentiful milk no matter how many people milked her and regardless of the type of pail they brought. However, Charlotte Sophia Burne, editor of Shropshire Folk-Lore: A Sheaf of Gleanings, explains that there was one caveat: “… there was always enough for all, so long as every one that came only took one pailful.”

Most folks were fine with being limited to a single pail of milk, save one—an old woman named Mitchell, who was considered to be a witch and full of spite. In this story, Mitchell milks the magical cow dry with a sieve, but the cow doesn’t die. Instead, she disappears.

Mitchell, though, was believed to have been punished for her actions. It was thought that perhaps she was turned to stone, then placed on the hillside with other upright stones surrounding her. But Burne relates another variant of the tale:

The witch is sometimes said to have been buried in the middle of the circle of stones, which was raised around her to ‘keep her in,’ i. e. to prevent her from ‘coming again’ as a ghost.

This location came to be called “Mitchell’s Fold,” and Burnes does warn that “It’s best not to meddle with such places.”

Y Fuwch Frech (The Freckled Cow)

I wanted to briefly touch on the story of Y Fuwch Frech (The Freckled Cow). Again, she was a mystical cow said to dwell in mountain land between Llanfihangel Glyn Myfyr and Clawdd Newydd in Wales. Her story is very similar to that of the Dun Cow and the White Cow—she had plentiful milk that she would give to any person who asked regardless of the vessel size. But after a witch came with a sieve to milk her dry, the cow immediately left. At this point, her tale connects to another folkloric creature—the afanc.

It was said that Y Fuwch Frech was the mother of two oxen that killed the afanc, a Welsh river monster. As the tradition goes, once her milk had been run dry by the witch, Y Fuwch Frech left straight for a lake in the parish of Cerrig-y-drudion, followed by the two oxen she had borne. She bellowed the entire way, and once the three of them reached the lake, they entered it and submerged themselves in the water, never to be seen again.

Y Fuwch Gyfeiliorn (The Stray Cow)

I first came across this story in Elias Owen’s book, Welsh Folk-Lore: A Collection of the Folk-Tales and Legends of North Wales. I wanted to include this tale because it links to the Welsh faerie tradition and follows a different storyline than what we’ve seen so far. Also, the antagonist is a greedy farmer rather than a witch, and I found that intriguing.

The tale is set in the region of Llyn Barfog, which is a mountain lake. According to the story, it is an area where the Gwragedd Annwn (faerie lake maidens) often appeared. Dressed in green, they were seen accompanied by their hounds (Cŵn Annwn) and cattle, which were “milk-white” in color.

One day, an old farmer captured one of the faerie cows and added her to his herd. This mystical cow, like the other magical cows, gave generously of herself and her milk. The story in Owen’s book describes her many gifts:

Never was there such a cow, never were there such calves, never such milk and butter, or cheese; and the fame of the Fuwch Gyfeiliorn, the stray cow, was soon spread abroad through that central part of Wales ….

The farmer grew wealthy and took for granted the generous favors he’d received from the faerie cow. Instead, he worried the cow would soon become too old, so “he fattened her for the butcher.” When the fateful day arrived, the butcher and all of the neighbors came to the farm. The tale describes the scene in vivid detail:

… the butcher … baring his arm, he struck the blow—not now fatal, for before even a hair [on the cow] had been injured, his arm was paralysed, the knife dropped from his hand, and the whole company was electrified by a piercing cry that awakened an echo in a dozen hills, and made the welkin ring again; and lo and behold ! the whole assemblage saw a female figure, clad in green, with uplifted arms, standing on one of the rocks overhanging Llyn Barfog, and heard her calling with a voice loud as thunder ….

Immediately, the faerie cow and several generations of her progeny ran off toward the faerie lake maiden who had called to them. The farmer chased after them, but to no avail. He watched as the lake maiden and all of the cows “disappeared beneath the dark waters of the lake, leaving only the yellow water-lily to mark the spot where they vanished.”

The loss of the faerie cow and her offspring (as well as the income derived from them) served as punishment for the farmer. In the end, his greed and pride left him more impoverished than he had been before he’d captured Y Fuwch Gyfeiliorn.

Glas Ghaibhleann

Glas Ghaibhleann is an Irish mythic cow that gave an abundant supply of cream when milked. Usually she is considered divine, but sometimes she is presented as a faerie cow. Often described as a white cow with green spots, there are a variety of tales about her plentiful milk and ability to traverse large distances in a day. Like many of the other cows we’ve looked at, Glas Ghaibhleann gave milk freely to anyone who asked, regardless of the pail or vessel they brought.

In the article “Calamity Meat and Cows of Abundance: Traditional Ecological Knowledge in Irish Folklore,” Patricia Monaghan explains that in the stories of Glas Ghaibhleann, human greed is typically the cause for the loss of the cow. There are legends where people pen her in so that they alone may benefit from her milk supply. Depending on the story, the magical cow either escaped, was freed, or “abandoned humanity out of disgust.” In other tales, an unkind individual would try to milk the cow dry into a sieve or even into a natural cavity in the ground. In these cases the cow “disappeared from earth.”

In her article, Monaghan describes the overarching pattern of the legends of the “Glas” (her abbreviated name for the cow):

The meta-narrative of the tales of the Glas … [show] nature as abundantly generous but ready to withdraw should people not act respectfully. The Glas stories show the entire human race punished for the behaviour of a single person, or a few greedy ones.

Book of the Dun Cow

I wanted to conclude with a brief mention of a medieval Irish legend about a Dun Cow with an abundant milk supply. In On Parchment: Animals, Archives, and the Making of Culture from Herodotus to the Digital Age, Bruce Holsinger describes how in the Book of Lismore (a manuscript created in the late 15th century), there are several stories about St. Ciarán (a sixth-century saint). Holsinger writes:

When it came time for Ciarán to leave his home for schooling, he selected a cow from the herd. The animal went with him to Clonard, site of a monastery where Ciarán received his first formal education. There the cow’s milk sustained the entire monastery along with the households and guests of the institution’s visitors.

When St. Ciarán left the monastery to begin evangelizing, he left the cow there to help sustain the monastery. Eventually the cow died, and its hide was brought to Clonmacnoise as a sacred relic. Holsinger explains that it was believed “… if you were lucky enough to die while resting on the cow’s hide, you were promised eternal life.”

And yet, Holsinger reveals that is not the end of the tale. St. Ciarán and his cow make another appearance in the Book of Lismore, in a text called the Tromdámh Guaire. In this story, St. Ciarán writes down the text of the epic narrative, the Táin Bó Cúailnge, on the hide of his deceased dun cow. Holsinger writes:

St. Ciarán’s miraculous cow provides the very parchment folios on which the text of the Táin is written. The book that Ciarán creates from his cow’s hide will be known ever afterward as the Lebor na hUidhre, or Book of the Dun Cow.

According to the Royal Irish Academy, the Book of the Dun Cow is the “earliest surviving manuscript with literature written in Irish.” I found images of the book online, but they are under copyright. However, I did find this short video of the Book of Lismore in case you wanted to get a feel for what it looks like.

I hope you enjoyed reading about these magical cows as much as I did while researching the topic. As ever, thank you for reading my blog. If you know someone fascinated by folklore, feel free to share this post with them.

Art credit (featured image): The White Cow by Dorothy Richmond via Wikimedia Commons, public domain