Hanifin, it appears, was a farmer living near Dingle, owning a large herd of cows which were driven up every morning to be milked in front of the house. It happened however that for several days the tub into which the milk was poured by the girls was mysteriously over-turned and the milk spilled. Hanifin’s wife was natu-rally excessively indignant, but in spite of every precaution the milk continued to be upset. One morning however, as Hanifin was walking along the road past a fairy fort, he heard a child crying inside it and a woman’s voice saying ‘Be quiet a while. Hanafin’s cows are going home; we’ll soon have milk in plenty.’ Now Hanafin being a wise man, said nothing, but went home and personally supervised the milking, with the result that on the usual overturning of the tub he stopped his wife in the middle of her scolding by telling her it was no fault of the girl, who on this occasion had been pushed by one of the cows against the tub. ‘Leave it to me,’ he said. ‘I’ll try and manage this business.’ The following morning, on hearing the child crying again in the fort, he ‘like the brave man that he was’ went inside. He saw no one, but he said: ‘A child is crying for milk. A cow of mine will calve to-morrow. I’ll let no one milk that cow; you can do what you like with her milk.’ The tub was never turned over again, and for two years Hanafin prospered in every way, taking good care of the cow, and never letting a girl or a woman milk her. Unfortunately however, Hanafin being a Kerryman, was also soft-hearted, and some of his neighbours getting into trouble, he went security for them, with the result that the creditors came down on him, and the bailiff arrived one day in order to drive off his cattle. Hanafin thereupon repaired to the fairy fort and said, ‘I’m going to lose all my cattle, but I’ll try to keep the cow I gave you, and feed her still, so that the child may have the milk.’ Three bailiffs came, and went down to the pasture across the field, but when they drove the cows up as far as the fairy fort each bailiff was caught and thrown hither and over by people he couldn’t see; one moment he was at one side of the ditch and the next minute on the other side. They were so roughly handled and bruised that they were hardly alive, and they not seeing who or what was doing it. The cattle raising their tails, bawled and ran off to the pasture. The following morning ten policemen and bailiffs went to take Hanafin’s cattle, with however identically the same result, ‘so that they barely left the place alive.’ Never again did police or bailiffs meddle with Hanafin’s cows, and above all, the creditors never collected the money. Edith Gordon ‘Some Kerry Fairies’ Kerry Archaeological Magazine 6 (1911), 347-356 at 352-353