Animal Myths

A few will be aware I have been known to speak on various subjects over the years. Fundamentally these all revolve around my favourite subject of etymology. Have always enjoyed bringing this fascinating subject to others. It’s not for me to say whether the audiences have, although many have asked me to return.

Thought it might be worthwhile sharing a snippet or two from these etymological presentations, continuing with Animal Myths. This examination of some of (what seem to us today) the quite ludicrous ideas our ancestors once attributed to our animals. For example the giraffe is the result of a cross between a leopard and a camel; barnacle geese are so-called because nobody had ever seen them lay an egg and they were thought to hatch from the barnacles found on rocks and the bottom of boats; and the hare, a particularly odd creature according to our ancestors, where the female carried eggs on its back (hence eggs being associated with Easter) while the genitalia of the male hare were worn on the belt to ward off infertility. There is a PowerPoint presentation to accompany this talk if required. There is a PowerPoint presentation to accompany this talk if required.

Barnacle geese hatch from barnacles – as the geese migrate to breed, nobody have ever seen a barnacle goose hatch from an egg.

Otters are fish – spread by Carthusian monks so they could eat meat at Lent.

Butterflies are witches flying by day.

Magpies carry a drop of the Devil’s blood under its tongue.

If you think you know someone who would like to hear me speak on this subject, drop me a line.

Devil Idioms

Several words have become part of the language in being used in phrases. Last time we looked at ‘god’ and now look at ‘devil’.

Dust devil has been seen since 1867.

A devil way is an early 13th century expression which then meant ‘the way to hell’ and the like. A century later it was used as an expression of irritation; and by 1680 described ‘an errand boy in a printing office’. The latter probably came about because of them suffering stains on their person from the printing ink, which was always black as were devils.

Devil’s books, seen since 1729, was used to refer to playing cards.

Devil’s coachhorse is actually a beetle, a rather aggressive little blighter first identifies as such in 1840.

Devil’s food cake is a real recipe for a chocolate cake, appearing in print for the first time in 1895, and probably named as it is quite different from angel cake.

Talk of the devil, said when someone seems to appear just as you’re talking about them, is first seen in print in the 1660s.

Devilment made its debut in 1771.

Devilled appears around 1800, it is a culinary term describing anything grilled with a hot condiment or sauce.

The devilfish was named in 1814, although it was used to describe a variety of marine creatures.

Devil-may-care first appears as a synonym for ‘reckless’ in 1828, but since 1815 had been used as an oath.

Daredevils made their first appearance in 1684, although then the reference was to those who showed little religious devotion. The modern use did not come into use until 1832.

Killdevil is first seen in 1670, when it referred to bad rum, although by early the following century it referred to one who sold his soul.

Tasmanian devils have been known as such since 1829; prior to that the locals called it pourinnah or taraba.

Devil-worship is recorded from 1719.

She-devil is seen from 1840.

Bedevil is first recorded in 1768.

An Etymology of Australia's Fauna

Some years ago I heard the story of how Captain James Cook landed in Botany Bay. As another captain, one James T. Kirk, would do when visiting planets around the Alpha Quadrant years later, Cook was able to make himself understood anywhere in the world by speaking English. (You can almost hear him speaking loudly and slowly in his Yorkshire accent saying "Do you understand?") The idea that the indigenous population of Australia, isolated from the rest of the world for perhaps 30,000 years, understood what Cook and his crew were saying seems fanciful, and yet a story I heard some years ago made me wonder whether the punchline was true.

Cook is chatting away to the locals when he spots an animal bounding along in the distance. "What's that?" he asks. The locals look at one another, shrug and tell him "kangaroo", and he makes a note in his diary "Today I saw a kangaroo." Unfortunately the message from the locals was lost in translation for, instead of them telling him what the creature was called, they had merely said "kan ga roo" or 'I don't know." This etymologist, having heard/told the story again recently, decided to see if this story has any basis in fact and the result produced this post, covering not just the kangaroo but many of the unusually-named fauna of the Australian continent.

Koala: is a European reproduction of the indigenous name, which may be koola, kulla or kula, depending upon the source consulted. This comes from the Dharug word gula or gulamany which suggest 'no drink'. Famously the koala gets all its moisture from the eucalyptus leaves on which it feeds and never needs to drink. At least that is the theory, in recent years koalas have been increasingly reported seeing taking a drink of water. Various things have been blamed, such as heatwaves, deforestation, and bushfires.

Platypus: derived from the Greek, the name was given by Europeans and translates literally as 'flat-footed', which seems odd considering few would see this creature's feet as its defining feature. Note the American idea of the plural being platypi (or is it platypii?), does not work as that would need to be a Latin root. Strictly the British idea of platypusses is accepted, but if we stick with the Greek beginnings this would give the plural as platypodes.

Thylacine: is a modern name from the Greek and correctly is Thylacine Cynocephalus 'the dog headed pouched one'.

Echidna: an interesting name which is most often said to come from the Greek ekhidna meaning 'snake, viper' and said to come from Proto-Indo-European angwhi 'snake, eel'. Whilst the forms may appear very close, to describe an egg-laying mammal (monotreme) with spines akin to a hedgehog as an ophidian seems odd. There have been suggestions that the tongue, used to collect ants and termites, is the 'snake', but this would not be overly easy to recognise from a distance. Another possibility is the Greek ekhinos 'sea urchin;' which is spiny like the hedgehog which it originally was used to describe and was also used to describe 'sharp points'. There is a third idea, for the serpent-nymph of Greek mythology named Echidna was described as 'a beautiful woman in the upper part of the body, but instead of legs and feet she had, from the waist downward, the form of a serpent'. Just how this would be likened to the Australian marsupial, is unclear. Perhaps just throw them all in the hat and pick one.

Quoll: is from an indigenous language, recorded as je-quoll by Joseph Banks, he who accompanied Captain James Cook on his voyage, where it was also recorded as a dhigul, both from the Guugu Yimidhirr language again.

Tasmanian devil: is simple enough, for it is named from the island of Tasmania, itself named after Abel Tasman, the Dutch explorer.

Sugar glider: is simple enough for, as many will know, it is a bit like a flying squirrel in that it glides, and gets it 'sweet' name because it has a predilection for sugary foods.

Wombat: is the European version of the indigenous names of womback or wombar, from the language of the indigenous Darug people, now nearly extinct. Note the collective name for the wombat is a wsidom, and even Sir David Attenborough said the wombat is not known for its intelligence.

Possum: is a shortened form of opossum, itself the Algonquian opassum or 'white dog'.

Dingo: is from the Dharruk language (spoken in the region of Sydney) and means 'tame dog', which is a little odd as the creatures are also known by the Dharruk term warrigal or 'wild dog'.

Dugong: comes from a Visayan word dugung and from Proto-Malayo-Polynesian duyun, all of which do NOT mean, as is so often said, 'the lady of the sea' another description of a mermaid (which also doesn't exist).

Emu: is from the Portuguese ema meaning 'crane, ostrich', and of unknown origins.

Cassowary: is another indigenous name, the Malay kasuari.

Galah: is a parrot named from the Yuwaalaraay language.

Budgerigar: has two possible etymologies: either the Yuwaalaraay word gijrragaa; or the Australian slang boojery 'good' amd gar 'cockatoo'.

Kookaburra: is from the Wiradjuri word guuguubarra which is simply imitative of its call.

Taipan: is derived from the Wik-Mungkan name for an ancestral creator also known as the Rainbow Serpent.

Goanna: is from 'iguana', itself from the Arawakan name for this lizard.

Barramundi: is an indigenous word meaning 'large-scaled river fish'.

Wobbegong: is another name from an indigenous language, this shark resembling a carpet (hence it's a carpet shark) and is a name meaning 'shaggy beard'.

Kangaroo: and finally a look at the creature which started all this. If you thought the "I don't know" story was bad enough, the actual origins are even more confusing. The name comes from the indigenous language known as Guugu Yimidhirr (no, I don't know how to pronounce it either), where gaNurru is said to mean 'large black kangaroo'. Thus if 'kangaroo' means 'large black kangaroo', then 'large black kangaroo' means 'large black kangaroo large black kangaroo' and so on and so forth. Yes, it is confusing and I certainly prefer "I don't know".

Ghouls and Ghosts

Although I have written a number of books on ghost stories, these you'll find at the end of this piece, here I'm looking at the origins of the many assorted named used to describe these supernatural beings. In some cases the etymologies are even weirder than the stories.

Banshee - in Irish folklore this fairy is held to predict an imminent death. First recorded in 1771 as Irish bean sidhe, this the phonetic spelling for 'female of the elves'. The root bean 'woman' from the Proto-Indo-European root gwen with the same meaning of 'woman'.

Bogeyman, unsurprisingly, is a combination of two words. The suffix 'man' is unchanged since at least Proto-Indo-European, while 'bogey' is another form of many dialect terms - such as 'bogge, boggart, bogle, etc, - all from the same root as Welsh bwg 'goblin' and thought to date back to 'buck', a goat-like supernatural creature and a word which can traced back to Proto-Indo-European bhugo 'buck, goat'. This is hardly a surprise as many supernatural beings are depicted with horns reminiscent of those worn by a goat.

Brownie comes from Scotland, a diminutive of 'a wee brown man' and thus comes from the same root as the colour, itself from Proto-Indo-European bher which also means simply 'brown'.

Demon still has the alternative spelling of 'daemon' in English, this the Latin word for 'spirit' and taken from the Greek daimon 'deity, divine power, lesser god'. The Greek comes directly from Proto-Indo-European dai mon 'the divider, provider' and thus only in recent times have demons been perceived with any negativity.

Devil here is used to mean 'evil spirit' rather than the alternative name for Satan. Here 'devil' comes to English from Latin, Greek, Jewish, where diaballein 'to slander, attack' (although literally 'throw across') from Proto-Indo-European dia 'across, through' and gwele 'to throw, reach'.

Elf is from Germanic folklore, where it was used to refer to any small supernatural being. Here the Proto-Germanic albiz is thought to come from Proto-Indo-European albho 'white' and a reasonable description of an indistinct ghostly image.

Fairy is derived from Latin fata 'the Fates' of Roman mythology. This is derived from Proto-Indo-European bha 'to speak, say'.

Genie comes from the Latin genius, the original meaning being 'an individual's guardian spirit'. This derived from the same root as 'gene' in 'birth, beget'.

Ghost comes from Old English gast 'breath' as well as 'good or bad spirit'. This Germanic word can be traced back to Proto-Indo-European gheis which is the root for so many words in any number of languages, all meaning 'excitement, amazement, fear, wonder' such as Sanskrit hedah 'wrath', Avestan zaesha 'horrible', and Gothic usgaisjan 'frighten'.

Goblin has an uncertain origin, although it may be from Greek kobalas 'rogue, knave' and possibly a diminutive of the proper noun Gobel.

Imp, until the 14th century, referred not to fauna but flora, the change almost gradual and initially referring to 'a little one'. Earlier this was used to mean 'young shoot, graft' and began as Proto-Indo-European bheue'to be, exist, grow'.

Incubus, credited with causing nightmares makes the origin of Latin incubo 'nightmare' and from incubare 'to lie upon'.

Kobold shares an origin with 'cobalt', a metal not named until 1733 and not used as a colour unbtil 1835. Here the metal, and thus the colour, come from the German kobold 'household goblin' - the name being taken for the ore as it contained traces of arsenic and sulphur and made the miners in the Harz Mountains ill.

Leprechaun is from Irish luchorpan 'a very small body' and from the Proto-Indo-European legwh 'not heavy' and kwrep 'body'.

Phantom, in the sense of 'spirit, ghost' is unrecorded before the 14th century, prior to that it had been used to mean 'to bring light' and is derived from Proto-Indo-European bha 'to shine'.

Poltergeist is German and means 'noisy ghost'. This is derived from Proto-Indo-European bhel 'to roar, sound', itself also the origin of both 'bellow' and 'bell'.

Spectre shares a root with 'spectrum', both from Proto-Indo-European spek 'to observe'.

Spirit can be traced to Proto-Indo-European speis 'to blow', this developing into Latin and French words suggesting 'breath of life'.

Spook is from the Middle Dutch spooc 'ghost'. While the trail ends here, we can find related words such as Danish spog 'joke' and Swedish spok 'scarecrow'.

Sprite shares an origin with 'spirit' (see above).

Succubus is related to 'incubus' (see above) but here means 'to lie under'. The word is seen in Latin succuba, used to refer to a 'fiend in female form having a sexual connection with men in their sleep'.

Troll is an Old Norse word, used as a noun to mean 'giant not of the human race' but also as an adjective 'to walk clumsily'. Here the latter possibly came from the verb form, itself meaning 'to stroll'.

Wraith is also from Old Norse, coming to English from vorthr meaning 'guardian'. Now today the 'wraith' is never seen positively and thus this Old Norse root is probably a red herring and we should be looking at the same root as 'wrath', itself having numerous forms in Germanic tongues all meaning 'anger, cruel, offended' and based on Proto-Indo-European wer 'to turn, bend'.

Zombie is of West African origin and originally the name of a snake god. It is related to Kikongo zumbi 'fetish' and Kimbundu nzambi 'god'.

These and other terms can be found in my books on the supernatural and paranormal. See how my research uncovered a relative in Haunted Worcestershire, read the best-seller Black Country Ghosts, hear about the intriguing telephone call in Paranormal Cotswolds, have a look at where I live in Paranormal Staffordshire, find out there is more to Warwick than its famous castle in Ghosts Around Warwickshire, and read how her lover could never admit he wasn't in the room when she had the best sex of her life in Ghosts Around Birmingham.

All That Glisters ......

Elements isolated and identified in the comparatively modern era are, most often, named quite logically. However those known to the ancients were known for very different reasons, albeit they had no concept of the idea of an element in a scientific sense. The earliest isolated elements were metals and named for what they saw and, as we shall see, they saw yhings in a rather different light.

Cadmium is a bluish-white metal discovered in 1871 by the German Friedrich Strohmeyer. It is borrowed from the Modern Latin cadmia, with the addition of the metallic suffix ‘-ium’, and itself used by the ancient naturalists for every earth and oxide they found. It comes from the Greek kadmeia meaning ‘earth’ and a name derived from the legendary founder of Boeotian Thebes ‘Cadmus’ and known as such as cadmium was first found in the area around Thebes.

Caesium is a rare alkaline metal, hence the suffix ‘-ium’, discovered and named in 1861 by scientists Bunsen and Kirchhoff. It was named from the Latin caesius meaning ‘blue-grey’ for the spectrum showing the presence of caesium is identified, and indeed was discovered, by two prominent blue lines.

Calcium and another metallic ‘-ium’ coined by Sir Humphrey Davy, this coined in 1808. He borrowed the first syllable from the Latin calx meaning ‘limestone’, this also the origin of the word ‘chalk’.

Aluminium is a an abundant metal and one which epitomises the quote from George Bernard Shaw when he said “Two nations divided by a common language”, for the name ‘aluminium’ is used on the eastern shores of the Atlantic, while on the western side the name is ‘aluminum’. The difference may be but one letter yet with the emphasis is on differing syllables it makes the two names sound very different. In Britain many find the American version difficult to accept and yet (sorry Britain) when first isolated by Sir Humphrey Davy in 1808, he did refer to it as ‘aluminum’. However four years later he changed his mind, with a little encouragement from fellow scientists, and added the ‘i’ to make it ‘aluminium’. This made sense as the suffix ‘-ium’ is used for other metallic elements and thus the British version (sorry America) makes more sense. To further complicate matters Davy’s original name was ‘alumium’. All three names come from the aluminium oxide, known by the Latin alumen, and derived from ‘alum’, itself defined as ‘a whitish mineral salt used as an astringent and a dye’. Alum comes from Old French alum and Latin alumen literally meaning ‘bitter salt’ and associated with the Greek aludoimos and thus amazingly having a common root with ‘ale’.

Barium is another metallic element known since ancient times, albeit only as it was present in the mineral barytes. Not until Sir Humphrey Davy isolated barium in 1808 was it named, although clearly this is derived from the mineral where ‘barytes’ comes from the Greek for ‘heavy spar’. The Greek barys or ‘heavy’ can be traced back to Proto-Indo-European gwere also meaning ‘heavy’ – the latter also the root of the word ‘grave’ - used as an adjective, not a noun.

Chromium isolated in 1807 by Fourcroy and Hauy it was named from the French chrome, itself from the Greek chroma meaning ‘colour’ and aptly, for the compounds are often identified by their colours.

Nickel was identified and named in 1754 by Swedish mineralogist Axel von Cronstedt, an abbreviation of Swedish kopparnickel literally meaning ‘copper-coloured ore’. The Swedes translated this from the German Kupfernickel or ‘copper demon’, so-called as its colour suggested copper yet contained none. Here the alternative name for the devil himself, Old Nick, has a common origin.

Platinum was named by the Spanish, it comes from platina referring to ‘sheet of metal’. As it was thought to resemble silver the Spaniards thought it simply inferior silver, hence the name.

Magnesium here the metallic suffix ‘-ium’ follows the ‘magnesia’, itself the Greek referring to the ‘loadstone’. Here it gets its name from Magnesia, a region of Thessaly inhabited by the Magnetes people whose name has never been explained. What we do know is the metal shares an etymology with ‘magnet’.

Lead comes from the Germanic loudhorn and related to Lot meaning ‘weight’. Earlier usage is unclear, although it seems likely to have referred to ‘weight’ or ‘density’ in some respect.

Tin is from the Proto-Germanic tinom but here the trail ceases and this word is unknown outside the Germanic family. Early references, such as Pliny’s plumbum album or ‘white lead’, are due to the mistaken belief tin was nothing more than silver tainted with lead.

Zinc has been known for millennia, the name derived from the Germanic zint ‘prong, point’ and referring to the pointed shape of the crystals after smelting. Here we can trace the word back to Proto-Indo-European denk meaning ‘to bite’

Mercury is famously the fluid metal, also one of the seven metals known to the ancients as the bodies terrestrial and linked to astrology and alchemy. The Greek name of hydrargyros means ‘liquid silver’ and has also given us the chemical symbol Hg.

Gold has been known since prehistory, the term coming to English from Proto-Germanic ghl-to and derived from the Proto-Indo-European ghel ‘to shine’ – the same root as ‘glass’.

Silver, like gold, has been known since prehistory and can be traced through Germanic languages to somewhere around Asia Minor where Akkadian sarpu meant ‘silver’, coming from sarapu ‘to refine, smelt’.

Copper would have been one of the earliest mined metals and, as a word, it comes to English from the Proto-Germanic kupar. Ultimately this can be traced to the Latin cuprum, itself from Greek Kyprios meaning ‘Cyprus’ as it had been originally mined on that island. Note the original Latin for ‘copper’ had been aes but this was soon used for the alloy with tin ‘bronze’, eventually coming to English as ‘ore’.

Iron is another of ancient origins, coming to English through Celtic isarnon and ultimately from Proto-Indo-European isero meaning ‘powerful’ and also used in the sense of ‘holy’.

Mythology in Place Names

It is quite surprising to find the number of subjects which have contributed to our modern place names. I recently penned an article examining those places named as they were where certain culinary supplies could be found. Believe it or not there is a village in England named for being where a certain kind of tree was renowned as a source of skewers, of all things!

One of the more interesting sources is, as the title of the post indicates, the mythologies of our islands. A little thought and I recalled some interesting names and the stories behind them. I have taken examples from around Britain. Included are stories from the Cotswolds, the Pennines, the Lake District, Cornwall, the principality of Wales, and north of the border to Scotland.

The Devil’s Churchyard, Minchinhampton, Gloucestershire Hyde Farm gets its name from that Saxon measurement of land, the hide. Most often said to equal 120 acres, this is simply an average because the ‘measurement’ refers to productivity and not area. It is extremely difficult to quantify a hide, the reason can be seen in the accepted definition of “the amount of land required to feed one family for one year” where there are so many variables – the size of the family, quality of the soil, skills of the farmer, choice of crops, all have to be taken into consideration. During the twentieth century Hyde Farm had been associated with flight. Today it is owned by the local gliding club but was once a base of operations for the Royal Air Force. This military presence had the effect of isolating the farmworkers as much as it did the official personal who had made it their temporary home. Even after the end of the Second World War rationing remained in force for a number of years, making life hard for all and particularly so for those who were just starting on married life. It was a warm day when one farmworker broke for lunch. Recently married, both he and his wife worked long hours and would have looked forward to the few hours each day they spent together. Perhaps that was where the young man’s mind went when he entered a small copse away from the heat of the sun and cab of the tractor to open his lunch box. Having just taken a second bite his thoughts were interrupted by a most awful noise from the depths of the copse. Looking up he saw a mist and, as he watched, it began to gather into a most unnatural form. This was enough for the poor man who fled, leaping into his tractor and driving off as fast as the lumbering farm machine would allow. Not being a local man he was unaware of the reputation of the copse as a place of evil. An area where no bird was heard to sing, of inexplicable darkness, where chills were felt on the warmest of days. Many years before the community, tired of trecking to neighbouring villages for Sunday worship, had asked for their own church to be built and this field had been selected. Agreement was reached and eventually work started. Foundations were laid down and walls rose reaching half their eventual height. During the night something happened and the sight which greeted the workers when they returned next morning astonished them. Before them were no walls but a collection of stone blocks strewn around the site but not seemingly having fallen. They built them back up again but, once more, they returned next day to find the walls dismantled. Four more times this happened and the workers abandoned the site. No reason was ever found for this act of superhuman vandalism, yet the community soon offered their own explanation. Ever since this field has been known as the Devil’s Churchyard. N ear here is Hanging Hill Field where Edge Farm takes its name from the hamlet, itself referring to its position on the edge of the Cotswold Hills. The field name comes as no surprise, there are many ‘hanging’ names coming from Old English hangra describing it as ‘overhanging’ or looming over the land below. Many of these names have attracted ominous and macabre definitions, examples where creative etymologies have survived as they are much more interesting than the true definition. Yet in the case of Hanging Hill Field, which seems so obviously to be situated in an area where the less glamorous definition fits perfectly, the reverse is the case. During a discussion one evening a labourer was bragging of his prowess with the scythe. He boasted long and loud of how this particular field posed no problems and could be mown by him on his own in but a single day. Remember he had no modern equipment, merely a scythe which he wielded by hand. Likely much of his purported ability came from the bottle and his companions at the local inn had soon wagered heavily against him accomplishing such a formidable task. It will come as no surprise to learn he failed. The next time he was seen he was dead, hanging from a tree at the end of a noose. Whether his suicide was due to embarrassment or because he could not afford to settle his losses, we shall never know. No mention of the name of Hanging Hill Field is found before the story. To this day reports continue of the ghostly sound of the labourer, an eerie swishing of his blade as he continues to cut the stems as midnight approaches.

Devil’s Mustard Hill, Stenkrith in the Pennines Place names can be transferred from one feature to another. Hills can be named from rivers and vice versa and in the Eden Valley is just such an example. Nearby Kirkby Stephen is Stenkrith Park and Devil’s Mustard Hill. Here we find a hill named from a feature in the valley below. Here the River Eden tumbles over rocks and boulders on its way to the sea at the Solway Firth. Even during the summer months when the river level is at its lowest this is still a turbulent river. When in spate the current is a frightening sight to behold. For those who know where to look among the tree-lined banks it is possible to see a feature either in or out of the stream bed, depending upon the water level, which is the origin of the name of the hill above. The crystal-clear water enables us to see strange circular holes in rocks here. This is the result of untold centuries of erosion by pebbles swirling around in the current. Although the origin of these holes is clear, it has not stopped the idea of these being a result of the Devil milling his mustard being perpetuated down the centuries.

Dunmail Raise in the Lake District Dunmail was the last king of Cumberland. Whilst he may or may not have existed little of what is known seems to have any basis in fact, making him as legendary as King Arthur. What is fact is the historical record from the year 945AD. The Saxon King Edmund I led an army which conquered Strathclyde and enabled him to cede the Dunmail’s kingdom to Malcolm I of Scotland, Edmund’s ally in the campaign. From this point legend takes over and speaks of the beaten Dunmail retreating into the Lake District with the combined Saxon and Scots forces in hot pursuit. Heavily outnumbered, Dunmail decided to face his opponents in most defensible spot he could reach, a pass linking Grasmere and Thirlmere. However his position was hopeless and he was killed, some stories say at the hands of Edmund himself. His sons were blinded and his supporters ordered to pile the rocks on top of the dead king’s remains. Those rocks can still be seen today as the cairn known as Dunmail Raise. The second element is from Old Norse hreysi or ‘cairn’. Not all Dunmail’s men were captured or killed. Some made good their escape with the crown of the king of Cumberland. They made for the 3,117 feet high Helvellyn or, more precisely, Grisedale Tarn which is found on its slopes 1,400 feet below the summit. Here the crown was flung far out to sink into the depths of this mountainside lake. It is said the souls of the long-dead warriors return once each year to Grisdale. Having retrieved the crown from the lake they march to Dunmail Raise, rap on the stones with their spears and hear the reply from their king: “Not yet, not yet; wait awhile my warriors.”

The Merry Maidens, Cornwall Near St Buryan is this ring of stones also known as Dawn’s Men, itself from the Cornish Dans Maen or ‘stone dance’. This circle is comprised of nineteen granite megaliths, each approximately four feet in height and approximately ten to twelve feet apart. These form a circle a little over eighty feet in diameter. This is not a perfect circle. A larger gap to the east gives the impression of a missing stone but archaeological evidence does not support this, indeed it suggests there were probably only eighteen stones originally, perhaps the extra megalith coming from a second circle to the south just 250 yards away but this was destroyed before the end of the nineteenth century. Legend has it this was the result of nineteen maidens punished by being turned to stone. Their only crime was dancing on the Sabbath. To the northeast are two standing stones, each ten feet high and known as the Pipers. Again turning them to stone was their punishment by being turned to stone for playing for the dancers on a Sunday. Of course the three hundred yards between the two would make hearing the pipers rather difficult for the dancers, yet folklore has the answer there, too. It is said the pipers heard the church clock in St Buryan strike midnight, thus making it Sunday. The pipers turned and ran up the hill, away from the dancers, who continued their dance without music.

Bryn Saith Marchog can only be in the principality of Wales A place name meaning ‘the hill of the seven horsemen or knights’ and named from a local legend. It recalls the seven men left here by Bran the Blessed to guard his lands while he was away in Ireland. Earlier Bran had given the hand of his sister Branwen to the Irish king Matholwch. Much feasting ensues to celebrate the betrothal but the arrival of their half-brother Efnisien puts an end to the festivities for he is greatly displeased he was not consulted. He takes his anger out on Matholwch’s horses who are mutilated. Bran ensures peace is restored by offering a magical cauldron to his Iish counterpart, it having the power of restoring life to the dead, although the individual is left mute for the rest of his or her days. When Branwen travels to Ireland with her husband she is treated badly, despite bearing him a son named Gwern. She summons help by taming a starling and sending a message across the Irish Sea to her homeland. When the British king and his forces are spotted, the Irish retreat, destroying every bridge to prevent pursuit. Yet the giant form of Bran lays himself down for his men to use him as a living bridge. Matholwch tries to appease the invaders but eventually terrible bloody war is waged. Eventually just six individuals remain alive, Branwen and five of her brother’s men returning home with the severed head of Bran the Blessed. Not an Irishman remained and the race would have been extinct had it not been for five pregnant women found residing in Wales, who returned to repopulate their homeland. Branwen dies of grief that two lands have been decimated solely because of her. Meanwhile the head of Bran the Blessed was given the burial he had instructed. First his men feasted for seven years in Harlech, accompanied by three singing birds and their former king’s cranium. Travelling to Gwales in Penfro they make camp for four score (eighty) years, then finally head to London where the head is buried in the White Mount ensuring it it faced France. Legend maintains that as long as the head is undisturbed no invaders could cross the sea to Britain.

Novar is north of the border to Scotland. A place name from Scottish Gaelic taigh an fhuamhair and describing ‘the house of the giant’. Local legends point to just one individual associated with this place, the fabled giant Fingal otherwise known as Finn MacCool. This legendary hunter of Irish mythology was named Deimne as a child but acquired the nickname Finn when his hair turned white prematurely. The Scottish name Fingal does not appear before the eighteenth century and the writings of the poet James Macpherson, this probably indicates the poet chose the name to fit the legends. Finn MacCool’s best known exploit sees him up against the giant Cuhullin. While sucking his thumb, this enabled him to see anything he chose no matter where, he saw his rival intended to confront him. Knowing he was sure to lose in direct competition, he turned to his wife Oona for assistance. First she dressed Finn as a baby and hides him away, then turned her hand to make griddle cakes. When Cuhullin arrived he tried to intimidate the giant’s wife by breaking rocks with just his middle finger. However she has the last laugh when Cuhullin bites into one of her griddle cakes and chips his tooth. Oona accused Cuhullin of being boastful and weak, saying her husband eats the cakes every day without trouble. When Finn apparently returns, he eats a griddle cake without any problem. Cuhullin suspects foul play and Oona did indeed hide griddle irons inside the cake she offered him but not that of her husband. When Cuhullin put his finger into the mouth of Finn to see for himself how sharp these teeth really were, the latter bit off the tip of the middle finger, the source of his rival’s great strength and size. Cuhullin shrank down to the size of a mere man and fled lest he be beaten by the giant Finn.

I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.

The Devil’s Churchyard

Near my home, and dominating the view to the north when travelling along the A5, is a wooded ridge. On the Ordnance Survey Map it is named the Devil’s Dressing Room, although I have never been able to discover why. Access is restricted, making close examination impossible. Yet this does not seem to be particularly ancient woodland. Thus either the name is comparatively recent, and therefore a created name, or where trees had been cleared and have regrown and thus an ancient name and one which was not recorded on very old maps.

To link the Devil to minor place names is not unusual, indeed it is surprisingly common which may be a clue how these names rarely refer to Beelzebub himself but to someone seen as wicked or known for some evil deed. Whilst I have no idea of the origin of his Dressing Room, from Minchinhampton, near Stroud in Gloucestershire comes a story which I do know. I suspect the story was told in an attempt to explain why there was no local church but this depends upon whether the story predates the name or vice versa – and that is something we will never know.

Hyde Farm gets its name from that Saxon measurement of land, the hide. Most often said to equal 120 acres, this is simply an average because the ‘measurement’ refers to productivity and not area. It is extremely difficult to quantify a hide, the reason can be seen in the accepted definition of “the amount of land required to feed one family for one year” where there are so many variables – the size of the family, quality of the soil, skills of the farmer, choice of crops, all have to be taken into consideration.

During the twentieth century Hyde Farm has been associated with flight. Today it is owned by the local gliding club but was once a base of operations for the Royal Air Force. This military presence had the effect of isolating the farmworkers as much as it did the official personal who had made it their temporary home. Even after the end of the Second World War rationing remained in force for a number of years, making life hard for all and particularly so for those who were just starting on married life.

It was a warm day when one farmworker broke for lunch. Recently married, both he and his wife worked long hours and would have looked forward to the few hours each day they spent together. Perhaps that was where the young man’s mind went when he entered a small copse away from the heat of the sun and cab of the tractor to open his lunch box. Having just taken a second bite his thoughts were interrupted by a most awful noise from the depths of the copse. Looking up he saw a mist and, as he watched, it began to gather into a most unnatural form. This was enough for the poor man who fled, leaping into his tractor and driving off as fast as the lumbering farm machine would allow.

Not being a local man he was unaware of the reputation of the copse as a place of evil. An area where no bird was heard to sing, of inexplicable darkness, where chills were felt on the warmest of days. Many years before the community, tired of trecking to neighbouring villages for Sunday worship, had asked for their own church to be built and this field had been selected. Agreement was reached and eventually work started.

Foundations were laid down and walls rose reaching half their eventual height. During the night something happened and the sight which greeted the workers when they returned next morning astonished them. Before them were no walls but a collection of stone blocks strewn around the site but not seemingly having fallen. They built them back up again but, once more, they returned next day to find the walls dismantled. Four more times this happened and the workers abandoned the site.

No reason was ever found for this act of superhuman vandalism, yet the community soon offered their own explanation. Ever since this field has been known as the Devil’s Churchyard.

I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.