Wolves in Ireland. Part two (werewolves).

Wolves in Irish Folklore Part Two.

 

From prehistory to the present day, the wolf has always loomed large in the human imagination. An iconic symbol of the untamed and the wild, the wolf, as Ireland’s last great predator, has always provoked fear, excitement and wonder.

Transformation into wolves is a favourite subject of Irish legend, and many a wild tale is told by the peasants round the turf fire in the winter nights of strange adventures with wolves. Stories that had come down to them from their forefathers in the old times long ago; for there are no wolves existing now in Ireland, certainly not in the wild anyway.

A young farmer, named Connor, once missed two fine cows from his herd, although he searched everywhere he could find neither hide nor tale of them. So he decided to set out on a search throughout the country; and he took a stout blackthorn stick in his hand, and went his way. He walked miles and miles but could find no sign of his cattle. As the day drew to a close and night time started to set in he realised he was tired and hungry and was far from home with no shelter in sight. 

He was in the middle of a desolate bog and all he could see was sparse vegetation, however, as he looked around he spotted a light in the distance. Connor cheered up a little and set off once again heading towards the gleam of light flickering in the distance. Arriving at a crude stone hut he went up and knocked on the door, it was opened by a tall, thin, grey haired old man with sharp dark eyes. Connor was about to speak when the old man said,

“Come in, you are welcome. We have been waiting for you. This is my wife”

He brought Connor over to the hearth where there was seated an old woman. She was thin and grey haired, however, what stood out in the firelight was her long sharp teeth and terrible glittering eyes.

“Sit down at the table, you are welcome, we have been waiting for you.  It’s time for dinner, sit and eat with us” she said,

Connor was beginning to feel uncomfortable, the sight of these two strange creatures began to worry him but he was a brave young man and he had a stout stick with him so he felt if trouble started he could fight his way out of the hut and in the meantime he would at least have a rest and get something to eat.  Outside it was as black as pitch and Connor knew he would never find his way home in the black of night so he sat down at the table.  The old woman stirred the pot hanging over the fire but Connor felt that she was watching him all the time with her sharp, keen eyes.

Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the door of the hut and the old man rose up and opened it. In walked a slender, young black wolf, who walked across the floor and straight into another room, a few minutes later a dark, slender, handsome, young man emerged and took his place at the table he stared at Connor with his glittering eyes and spoke to him.

“You are welcome, we have waited for you” he said.

Connor was about to reply when suddenly there was another loud knock at the door. Once again the old man rose up to open the door and in walked a second wolf.  The wolf walked across the floor into the other room and just like before within a couple of minutes another dark, slender, handsome, young man emerged and sat down at the table. He sat glaring at Connor with his sharp keen eyes but said no word to him.

“These are our sons” said the old man, “Tell them what you want and what brought you here amongst us for we live alone and don’t like to have spies and strangers coming here.

Connor told them his story, how he had lost two of his fine cows and how he had searched all day for them.  He told them that having failed to find any sign of his cattle he found himself in the middle of a desolate bog that he knew nothing of, how it was getting dark and spotting a light in the distance he had arrived at their hut. How he was invited in and asked to stay for dinner. However, if they knew anything about his cows or where he might find them they would have his eternal thanks and he would leave them and go back home never to darken their step again.

They all began to laugh and looked at each other. The old woman looked more frightful than ever when she showed her long sharp teeth. Connor became angry, he was a hot tempered young man and grabbing his blackthorn stick firmly in his hand he jumped up and began to walk towards the door. He decided to leave them to their dinner as he refused to stay there to be mocked.

One of the young men stood up and said.

“Wait, we are fierce and evil but we never forget a kindness. Do you remember one day down in the valley you found a poor little wolf in great agony and close to death due to a sharp thorn that had pierced his side. You gently extracted the thorn and gave him a drink then went on your way leaving him in peace and resting”

“Yes, I remember it well” said Connor, “He licked my hand in gratitude”

“Well” said the young man, “I am that wolf and I shall help you if I can. Stay here tonight and have no fear for we will not harm a friend”

 

Connor returned to the table and sat down to dinner and had a great feed then they all lay down and fell asleep.  Connor knew nothing more until he woke up the following morning and found himself by a large hay rick in his own field.

“Was it all a dream” thought Connor, “Surely not for that kind young wolf promised me his help and I’m certain he would not lie to me”

When he arrived home he looked over the yard and the stable but still there was no sign of his cows and Connor began to feel very sad but just then over in the far field he spotted three of the most beautiful strange cows he had ever seen.

“I wonder where they came from, they must be strays from one of the neighbours” he thought,

Connor walked towards the field swinging his blackthorn stick but when he reached the gate there stood a young black wolf.  When the cows tried to leave through the gate the wolf snarled at them and drove them back. It was then that Connor realised that his friend the wolf had kept his word so he left the cows in the field and there they remained and grew to be the finest in the whole county. They say that the descendents of those cows are flourishing to this day and Connor grew rich and prospered. You see a kind deed is never lost but will bring good luck to the person responsible.

Connor never did find that old stone hut even though he searched far and wide. He wanted to thank the wolf family but he never saw them again.  He always got upset whenever a slaughtered wolf was brought into the town for the reward offered, fearing it may be his friend. It was the time in Ireland’s history when a high price was paid for a wolf’s skin by order of the English authorities.

 

 

In Irish folklore the werewolf is found throughout history and there are tales told about wolf men tribes that lived in County Tipperary. It was said the ancient Kings of Ireland would ask for their help when threatened with war, There are other tales told about half men half wolves living in the mountainous regions.

One of the oldest written stories that we have about werewolves comes from Ireland. It was written down by a man named Giraldus Cambrensis who wrote down many old Irish tales.

 

In Ireland in 1182, a priest travelling from Ulster into Meath, and having to pass the night in a wood, was sitting by a fire which he had made, when a wolf came up and spoke to him in human speech.

The wolf told the priest that he was a man of Ossory and that his race were victims of an ancient curse. He went on to explain to the priest the nature of the curse, every seven years a man and a woman were changed into wolves; at the end of seven years they recovered their proper form, and two others suffered a like transformation. He and his wife were the present victims of the curse; his wife was at the point of death, and he begged the priest to come and give her the last rites and the Holy Eucharist given to the dying

After some hesitation the priest agreed to do as the wolf asked and next morning the wolf took leave of him with words of gratitude. Two years after this event, Giraldus was in the same area, where he was approached by two priests sent by the bishop to ask him his view on this “serious matter.” Giraldus met with the bishop of the town and gave his views in writing. These writings were then sent to the Bishop of Ossory then to Pope Urban III.  Showing you just how serious they took this werewolf tale, one of the first ever recorded.

It is said that the people of the Kingdom of Ossory (County Kilkenny and parts of Laois and Offaly) had the power to change themselves into wolves whenever they wanted. During the time that an Ossorian lived as a wolf their human body lay at home as if it were dead. When an Ossorian was about to change into a wolf strict orders were given to friends not to touch or move the human body for if it was moved to a place where the returning spirit could not find it then the person was doomed to remain in wolf form for the rest of their life.

The Irish Werewolf is very different from the excepted version of the werewolf that has become apparent through the spread of Christianity and the inquisition.  It is not a crazed man-eater but rather a protector. There are numerous stories in Irish folklore of wolves protecting children, guarding wounded men and guiding lost people to a place of safety. So next time you see a wolf, look into its eyes and see the gentle spirit that resides within.