Among the more curious figures in Icelandic folklore is the tilberi, or snakkur, said to be conjured by witches for the sole purpose of pilfering milk. Stories about this supernatural thief have travelled through centuries of Icelandic storytelling, their regional variations reflecting both mystery and mischief in rural life.
The secret creation of the tilberi
According to tradition, only women could fashion a tilberi. The process required graveyard daring and secretive skills: a rib from a newly interred corpse would be wrapped in grey wool and kept hidden on the body. The wool, it was said, should come from a widow’s sheep, plucked soon after shearing. This bundle required further magical rites, over three Sundays, the creator would spit sanctified communion wine upon it, bringing it increasingly to life.
Once it stirred, the woman would let the nascent creature suckle on her inner thigh, producing a distinctive wart-like mark, known to be the telltale sign of a ‘tilberamóðir’ or tilberi mother.
Aphantom thief and its dangers
The tilberi’s abilities went beyond mere stealth. Described as long and spindle-like, or rolling itself into a great ball to steal wool, it could stretch down an animal’s sides to suckle milk from two teats simultaneously. When full, it would return to its mistress’s dairy, calling from the window with phrases such as “Full belly, Mummy!” The stolen milk would then be vomited into the butter churn.
Farmers deeply distrusted these unexplained losses. Hardened or inflamed udders, or sudden spoilage of butter, especially if it clumped or turned to foam, were often blamed on tilberi activity. Rituals to fend off such thieves included drawing a cross under the animal’s udder and placing sacred texts on their backs.
There were risks for the women involved, too. Should a tilberi reach the breast of its creator instead of the livestock, it could endanger her life, even fatally draining her.
Disposing of one was a grim ordeal. The owner was advised to send it to gather all lamb droppings from mountain pastures, a task the creature could not finish due to its supposed evil nature, which could not bear the number three. If chased, the tilberi was believed to flee to its creator and hide under her skirts. Witch trials and punishments were recorded as early as the 16th century, illustrating how seriously such beliefs were once held.
Though no written mentions exist before the 17th century, the enduring presence of tilberi lore hints at longstanding anxieties over resources and survival in Iceland’s rural communities. Today, the tilberi remains a potent symbol of Iceland’s folkloric imagination, a mischievous relic of a world where the boundaries between magic and daily life were faint.
Sources
- Wikipedia
- Wikipedia (Icelandic) in Icelandic
