Dr KARL SHUKER

Zoologist, media consultant, and science writer, Dr Karl Shuker is also one of the best known cryptozoologists in the world. He is the author of such seminal works as Mystery Cats of the World (1989), The Lost Ark: New and Rediscovered Animals of the 20th Century (1993; greatly expanded in 2012 as The Encyclopaedia of New and Rediscovered Animals), Dragons: A Natural History (1995), In Search of Prehistoric Survivors (1995), The Unexplained (1996), From Flying Toads To Snakes With Wings (1997), Mysteries of Planet Earth (1999), The Hidden Powers of Animals (2001), The Beasts That Hide From Man (2003), Extraordinary Animals Revisited (2007), Dr Shuker's Casebook (2008), Karl Shuker's Alien Zoo: From the Pages of Fortean Times (2010), Cats of Magic, Mythology, and Mystery (2012), Mirabilis: A Carnival of Cryptozoology and Unnatural History (2013), Dragons in Zoology, Cryptozoology, and Culture (2013), The Menagerie of Marvels (2014), A Manifestation of Monsters (2015), Here's Nessie! (2016), and what is widely considered to be his cryptozoological magnum opus, Still In Search Of Prehistoric Survivors (2016) - plus, very excitingly, his four long-awaited, much-requested ShukerNature blog books (2019-2024).

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Showing posts with label bigfoot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bigfoot. Show all posts

Thursday, 19 December 2024

EVALUATING THE ELF CHIMP OF FLORIDA - GLOWING GREEN AND VERY MEAN!

 
Is this what the elf chimp looked like? (created by me using Magic Studio)

My previous ShukerNature blog article was devoted to fictional green pigs (click here to read it), so now, continuing this colourful theme, the current one presented here is devoted to a (supposedly) factual green chimpanzee.

As regular readers of my blog, books, and articles will know well by now, I've always been attracted to the more unusual, little-known cryptids, and never more so than when they appear to be confined to a single source, and with no apparent follow-ups either. So it was that when, many years ago, I read about the subject of this blog article of mine in just one solitary book and nowhere else, its details stayed in my memory, to fascinate but also frustrate me in equal measure. For in spite of having searched several times down through the years for additional information in other publications and widely online, I've never been able to uncover any further details. Consequently, I've decided to present here in article form on ShukerNature the scant details that I do have concerning what I have dubbed – for reasons explained later – the elf chimp of Florida, in the hope that my article might induce readers who may know more about this very curious cryptid to post their valuable information here.

My original – and only – source of information (not counting, obviously, the numerous paraphrased versions of it that have subsequently appeared in print and online) is John A. Keel's classic book Strange Creatures From Time and Space (USA 1970/UK 1976). A verbatim version of it later appeared in a revised edition of this book, published in 1994 and retitled The Complete Guide to Mysterious Beings.

 
My American 1970 paperback, UK 1976 paperback, and American revised, retitled 1994 paperback of the Keel-authored books noted above (© John A. Keel estate/Fawcett Gold Medal Books/Sphere Books/Doubleday Books – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

In both editions of Keel's book, the relevant excerpt appears as Case #15 within the Florida-themed section of a chapter entitled 'Creatures from the Black Lagoon', and reads as follows:

"There's a terrible smell around here. Can't you smell it?" the girl complained. She was one of four teenagers parked in a Lovers' Lane near Elfers, [western] Florida, in January 1967. As the others took deep breaths "an animal about the size of a large chimpanzee" sprang onto the hood [bonnet] of the car.

"Then we panicked!" the driver later told investigator Joan Whritenour. "The thing looked like a big chimp, but it was greenish [Keel's italics] in color, with glowing green eyes. I started the motor and the thing jumped off and ran back into the woods. We tore like blazes back to the dance we were supposed to be attending."

A police officer from New Port Richey later visited the site and found a sticky green substance which remains unidentified.

The investigator named in Keel's account was ufologist Joan Whritenour (who edited the ufological periodical Saucer Scoop). In 1967 she co-authored with famous mysteries researcher/writer Brad Steiger a book entitled Flying Saucers Are Hostile, followed a year later by a second UFO-themed book, Allende Letters. As I've never been a ufological researcher, however, I've never owned a copy of either of these works, nor any issues of Saucer Scoop, so I have no idea whether they contain any mention of this case (although it's more cryptozoology-based than UFO-themed anyway). Consequently, could any ShukerNature readers who do own any or all of these publications please check through them and let me know? Thanks very much! Sadly, neither Steiger nor Whritenour are still alive, otherwise I'd have contacted them to request further details regarding the 1967 Elfers incident.

Keel himself provided no primary source for his above account's information, nor, as seen, did he attempt to assign any kind of identifying moniker to the green chimp (or chimp-like entity). Consequently, in order to make it more readily identifiable to and referable by future researchers, I have chosen to dub this creature the elf chimp – because it was seen near Elfers, and because the traditional elf-associated colour just so happens to be green.

 
The elf chimp was said to be greenish and to possess glowing green eyes (created by me using Magic Studio)

As a lifelong science-fiction movie buff (click here to visit my film review blog, Shuker In MovieLand), when I read about the creature's green colouration and the police officer's discovery of an unidentifiable sticky green substance at the site where the teenagers' encountered it I readily recalled how such a substance, frequently some kind of deadly radioactive spillage and/or of extraterrestrial origin, is a staple ingredient of sci fi-themed B-movies from the 1950s and 1960s. However, I personally doubt that anything so (melo)dramatic was the identity of the green gloop in this reputedly real-life incident.

Shifting my attention to more prosaic possibilities, I recalled the many reported cases down through the years of so-called luminous owls, spied widely around the world, but especially in Europe, North America, and Australia – all regions that just so happen to harbour the pallid-plumaged barn owl Tyto alba. Said to glow with intense brightness, sightings of mystery luminous owls have been discounted by some scientists as observations of normal barn owls that have inadvertently brushed against bioluminescent fungi such as the honey fungus Armillaria mellea (which are sticky to the touch, enhancing their adhesive capabilities) when perching in trees, with these glowing fungi and their spores becoming attached to their feathers. Comparable fungi, including Armillaria once again, also occur on the ground.

However, as swiftly pointed out by skeptics of this proposed solution, the total luminescence exhibited by a colony of such fungi in situ is still nowhere near as intense as has been reported for a fair few luminous owls. This in turns means that even if barn owls did find themselves with some glowing fungal spores attached to their plumage after having perched upon branches bearing them, the combined glow yielded by these spores would obviously be less still than the total glow emitted by the complete colony of bioluminescent fungi on those branches.

 
Honey fungus Armillaria mellea, depicted in a vintage illustration from English naturalist/illustrator James Sowerby's Coloured Figures of English Fungi or Mushrooms, 1789-1781 (public domain)

Consequently, I consider it highly unlikely that even if it had climbed trees bearing glowing fungi and rolled on the ground where glowing fungi were growing, the elf chimp encountered by the teenagers could have appeared greenish.

No details concerning the nature of the woods from which it had emerged and back into which it had fled were included in Keel's account, but I am wondering whether it contained any kind of large pool, pond, ravine, lake, stream, or some other body of freshwater. For if so, this might explain not only the elf chimp's colour but also its vile smell. Such bodies of freshwater in Florida and in many other localities around the world all too regularly experience, especially during the summer months, the detrimental phenomenon of algal blooms.

An algal bloom is defined as a rapid growth of microscopic true algae or of cyanobacteria in water, which often results in a coloured scum appearing on the water surface. In marine bodies of water, these blooms are often red in colour, are caused by true algae, and some are known as red tides (but green ones also occur, depending upon the algal species involved), whereas in freshwater they are frequently bright green or bluish-green, and are caused by autotrophic gram-negative bacteria correctly referred to as cyanobacteria but which on account of their superficially alga-like outward appearance are popularly albeit inaccurately dubbed blue-green algae.

 
A bright green example of a severe freshwater algal bloom (public domain)

Algal blooms result when algae or cyanobacteria multiply quickly in waterways with an overabundance of nitrogen and phosphorus (often caused by fertilizer having been dumped into them), particularly when the water is warm and the weather is calm. Moreover, they can have harmful effects upon the health of humans and other animals if water containing a bloom is touched, swum in, swallowed, or when airborne droplets are inhaled. They also emit a foul, putrid smell that can irritate, and they clog the gills of fishes swimming in water polluted by them.

Florida's freshwater bodies are particularly prone to algal blooms – indeed, in summer 2023 a toxic cyanobacterial bloom was covering roughly half of Lake Okeechobee, Florida's largest inland lake (click here to access a news report concerning this disturbing turn of events). In short, if the elf chimp had entered a body of freshwater containing a cyanobacterial bloom, whether deliberately or accidentally, it could well appear greenish in colour, with the severe irritation to its skin conceivably explaining its belligerent behaviour, and the stench emitted by the cyanobacterial bloom's scum even explaining this creature's awful stink as noted by the teenagers.

On the negative side of any explanation involving algal blooms is that the encounter took place in January, whereas these blooms are most prominent during the warm, sunny summer months. Furthermore, if the body of water where an algal bloom might potentially develop is ensconced within a dark secluded forest with little sunlight penetrating through the trees, this is far from ideal for a bloom's development, as the latter requires plenty of sunlight to stimulate its growth via photosynthesis. And if the sticky green substance found at the site near Elfers by the police officer were indeed from an algal bloom (or from glowing fungi for that matter), why could it not be identified? Algal blooms (and glowing fungi) were already familiar phenomena, scientifically speaking, back then.

 
Artistic representation of the Florida skunk ape (© William M. Rebsamen)

Also needing to be considered is whether, in spite of its eyewitnesses' likening it to, or even directly identifying it as, a chimpanzee, the creature really was a chimp. An absconded exotic pet or an escapee/release from a private collection or menagerie certainly offer plausible explanations for why such a creature might be existing in a woodland near Elfier. However, there is also the intriguing possibility that it may be something truly cryptozoological – possibly a juvenile bigfoot, or, more specifically, a Florida skunk ape.

The reason that I proffer this option for consideration is that in the very same Florida-themed section of his book's 'Creatures from the Black Lagoon' chapter, Keel included as Case #14 another encounter with a hairy green-eyed green-glowing foetid creature of unidentified nature, but much larger than the elf chimp and more suggestive of a typical bigfoot entity. Again, he provided no source for his information, but here is how he described the encounter:

A young woman was changing a tire on a lonely stretch of highway outside Brooksville, [western] Florida, on Wednesday night, November 30, 1966, when she heard a noise in the bushes and became aware of a most unpleasant odor. Then a huge thing with large green eye and an eerie greenish glow on one side of its hairy torso stood up beside the road and studied her. She was terrified. The creature walked off into the woods when another car came along and stopped.

Worth noting here is that Brooksville and Elfers exist in adjacent counties within western Florida, with Brooksville a mere 38.7 miles north of Elfers.

 
Map showing the proximity of Elfers to Brookesville, both situated in western Florida (© Google Maps – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Partial but not full-body contact with an cyanobacterial bloom could explain why only part of the torso of the Brooksville beast was glowing green – as an adult (judging from its huge size), the creature would be more experienced and wary about immersing in bloom-polluted water than a juvenile would be. Of course, as with the elf chimp case, the time of year in which this encounter occurred is outside the peak time for algal blooms, but some can exist all year long. Alternatively, had one side of its thorax simply brushed against some glowing fungi in the undergrowth?

Green glowing eyes have often been reported in bigfoot sightings (so too have red glowing eyes – click here for more insights into red eye-glow). This suggests that whatever the species responsible, a tapetum lucidum, i.e. a light-reflecting cell layer, is present at the back of each eye, behind the retina, as is commonplace in nocturnal mammals, assisting these creatures to see in dim light (by reflecting incoming light back out again through the retina, thus causing the reported glow or eyeshine).

However, as apes and monkeys are almost exclusively diurnal (only the Central and South American douroucoulis aka night or owl monkeys are habitually nocturnal, as well as lower primates such as lemurs and lorises), their eyes do not possess a tapetum – indicating, therefore, that whatever it was, the elf chimp was not a true chimp.

 
A douroucouli depicted in an exquisite vintage illustration from 1894 by John Gerrard Keulemans (public domain)

Having said that: an uncategorised species of ape that has evolved to be nocturnal might be expected, therefore, to have evolved such an adaptation. Again, the douroucoulis provide a precedent here. For although they do not possess a true tapetum, i.e. composed of riboflavin crystals (which nocturnal lemurs have), they do possess an analogous version composed of collagen fibrils, indicating that their nocturnal lifestyle is a secondary adaptation evolved from ancestral species that were diurnal in lifestyle.

In short, glowing green eyeshine at night does not necessarily rule out an ape identity for the bigfoot. Equally, however, those who favour a bear as this famous cryptid's true identity point to the fact that bears' eyes do possess a true tapetum and shine at night, the precise colour varying from red or orange to yellow or green, depending upon a number of different factors (and thereby making conflicting reports of green eyeshine and red eyeshine for the bigfoot less problematic).

As noted at the beginning of this ShukerNature blog article, I am unaware of any sequel to these cases, or the original source material (newspaper reports?) upon which Keel based his accounts. Does any additional coverage exist, for example, that names the teenagers and/or the police officer, which could therefore enable them to be traced and interviewed if still alive? Gathering further first-hand eyewitness testimony from them might yield new, extremely valuable details. Someone with ready access to the archives of local newspapers for Elfers and Brooksville might uncover such source material, which is why I have prepared this article – as a spur for further research by those better-placed geographically to conduct it than I am, living in Britain. It would certainly be fascinating to know whether the elf chimp and its much larger green-furred Brooksville counterpart were ever reported again, rather than being once-witnessed wonders of the kind all-too-frequently found hidden away in the cryptozoological archives.

 
The elf chimp – mean, green, and seen, but only once? (created by me using Magic Studio)

 

 

Friday, 19 May 2023

FORTEAN TIMES PRESENTS MONSTER HUNTERS: IN SEARCH OF UNKNOWN ANIMALS - MY LATEST MAJOR CRYPTO-CONTRIBUTION

 
The front cover of the new cryptozoology-themed Fortean Times bookazine Monster Hunters (© Fortean Times/Diamond Publishing Limited – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Bookazines are increasingly popular and prevalent in bookstores and on news stands nowadays, constituting a handy publication format that, as its name suggests, is midway between a magazine and a book. They sell well too, which is why I am currently involved in what, if all ultimately transpires according to plan, will be a series of bookazines featuring various of my animal anomaly writings from down through the years – but more about that some other time.

Instead, this present ShukerNature blog article focuses upon what is to my knowledge the first UK bookazine concentrating specifically upon cryptozoological subjects, and with which I am extremely happy to be associated via my varied contributions to it.

Published by the UK's veteran strange phenomena periodical Fortean Times, its full title is Fortean Time Presents Monster Hunters: In Search of Unknown Animals, and contains 12 classic cryptozoology-themed articles published by FT down through the years. Some of these are the result of field expeditions, others the product of bibliographical researches.

Moreover, as its in-house cryptozoologist for over 30 years now, I was very kindly invited by FT to prepare not only a general introduction to this bookazine but also a concise summary/update for each of its articles, thereby fulfilling much the same role as performed by the late Arthur C. Clarke for each episode in his famous 1980s TV show Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious World.

The authors and co-authors of the articles are: Neil Arnold, Loren Coleman, Edward Crabtree, Adam Davies (two articles), Richard Freeman, Martin Gately, Sharon Hill, Ruby Lang, Stu Neville, Todd Prescott, Benjamin Radford, Richard Svensson, Michael Williams, and yours truly (two articles).

To avoid spoiling the many surprises in store when you read Monster Hunters, I don't want to give too much away here, so I'll leave you to pair up the articles' authors with their subjects, but the subjects are: bigfoot, British mystery cats, Loch Ness monster, mokele-mbembe, Mongolian death worm, Nandi bear, Russian yeti, Scape Ore Lizard Man, Swedish lindorms, Tajikistan ghul, Trunko, and yowie.

All of the articles are reproduced here in all of their original full-colour glory, which together with my introduction yields an 80-page bookazine that surveys a vast, global range of cryptids in what is unquestionably one of the most engrossing crypto-compendia that I have read for a very long time. Consequently, I unquestionably recommend anyone who has an interest in mystery beasts, or knows someone else who does, to buy (at just £6.99 in shops, or online here at £8.25 including p&p directly from FT) this masterfully-compiled (and bargain-priced!) anthology of very notable crypto-creatures. I guarantee that you won't regret it!

To give you some additional ideas of what to expect, here is FT's own publicity blurb for Monster Hunters:

From the archives of FORTEAN TIMES, the world’s foremost journal of strange phenomena, comes a new collection exploring the world of cryptozoology – the search for unknown animals.

Join us on expeditions to far-flung Mongolia to find the dreaded DEATH WORM of the Gobi Desert, to the Congo in search of a LIVING DINOSAUR and to Tajikistan on the trail of TERRIFYING APE MEN. Explore the wilds of the USA on the track of BIGFOOT and the South Carolina LIZARD MAN, or venture to the marshes of Sweden to investigate sightings of GIANT SERPENTS. And sign up for closer-to-home hunts for NESSIE and BRITAIN’S MYSTERY BIG CATS, including the infamous ‘Essex Lion’. MONSTER HUNTERS takes readers on an exciting round-the-world quest to track the most amazing, elusive and sometimes unbelievable crypto-creatures. Plus, the collection includes an introduction and updates and commentary on each article by renowned cryptozoologist DR KARL SHUKER.

See also its own dedicated page here on my official website.

Finally: I mentioned above that I've written a summary/update for all 12 of this bookazine's articles, but due to reasons of space one of them had to be omitted – my piece for the Nessie article. So now, as a ShukerNature exclusive, I am including it here, together with the illustration (as seen in the bookazine) that it refers to:

Perusing this article, I noted two very different aspects that resonate with my own Nessie associations. First and foremost is his statement that "people can see the monster in anything". This is extremely pertinent, because just as I've documented elsewhere in this bookazine [regarding another cryptid], eyewitness descriptions of what they claim to have been the LNM are so immensely varied that it should be instantly apparent that no single type of creature is being reported. Instead, a diverse range of different animal species, plus all manner of non-living entities (boats, waves, atmospheric mirages, etc), have been sighted on the loch down through the decades but have been erroneously combined by media reports and others to yield a single impossibly-varied and therefore non-existent composite beast known to us all as Nessie. Having said that, some of the separate, component creatures that have been mistakenly united to yield Nessie may themselves be novel beasts – extra-large eels, for instance, much longer than officially-recognised specimens, and/or covertly-introduced specimens of the European giant catfish (wels). But what of the alleged LNM land sightings, where unfamiliar-looking beasts have supposedly been seen in their entirety? If genuine, these cannot be explained via a composite-identity theory, which is why they intrigue me so much, and deserve far more attention than they generally receive. This article's second aspect of personal relevance to me is its illustration of three people looking across the loch at a classic 'head, neck, and hump' Nessie swimming by. That very same illustration was contained in a book chapter that as a child first made me aware of the LNM – but that's not all. The book, Stranger Than People, published in 1968, also opened my eyes to many other mysteries, lighting within me the flame of fascination for all things Fortean that has burned unabatedly ever since [click here to read more by me re Stranger Than People]. So I have a lot to thank it for!

 
The LNM illustration in question, as contained in Monster Hunters (© Fortean Times/Diamond Publishing Limited – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

 

Saturday, 17 July 2021

'THE BOY WHO SAW BIGFOOT' - BOOKING MY REDISCOVERY AT LONG LAST OF A CRYPTOZOOLOGY NOVEL LONG LOST!

 
The very evocative front cover of my Weekly Readers Books hardback edition of The Boy Who Saw Bigfoot, a novel written by Marian T. Place and first published in 1979 by Dodd, Mead & Company (© Marian T. Place/Dodd, Mead & Company/Weekly Readers Books – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Friends and colleagues, including loyal ShukerNature readers, will be very familiar with my succession of searches in recent times for various unusual books, magazines, records, and artefacts that I once fleetingly encountered many years previously but inexplicably failed to purchase and which have eluded all of my attempts since then to identify and very belatedly buy them. Happily, however, quite a few of these recent searches by me have finally ended in success, and the cryptozoologically-relevant example documented here is one of them.

It was during the evening of 7 April 2021 when I scored this particular "identified at last after all these years" successes. On that occasion, my search had been the latest one in a lengthy succession spanning a quartet of decades, seeking a very specific bigfoot-themed novel that for so long had seemed no less elusive than its cryptid subject! Here is the back-story to my quest for it.

One Bank Holiday Tuesday during the early 1980s, my family and I visited the Welsh seaside city of Newport for the day, where, while walking around the shops in its central area (by my early 20s, I'd long since lost interest in sitting on a beach!), Mom and I came across a big second-hand bookshop. Needless to say, I swiftly entered it and began a perusal of its wares, especially as this shop was totally new to me.

While doing so, I chanced upon a slender hardback book with a very attractive drawn illustration that wrapped around its entire front cover, spine, and back cover, and which was mainly brown with some green, featuring a bigfoot on the front. I opened it, but when I discovered that it was a children's novel rather than a work of non-fiction, I placed it back on the shelf, and eventually left the bookshop without buying anything – a rare event indeed for me!

 
A typical shopping street in Newport city centre, Wales (© Paula Rogers/Wikipedia – CC BY-SA 2.0licence)

Once back home, however, as so often happens with me, I began to wish that I'd bought the book after all, even if only as a novelty or souvenir, as it wasn't expensive and I'd never seen it before. Unfortunately, Newport was a very considerable distance away from where we lived, so there was no question of travelling all the way back there to buy it. I've only visited Newport once since then, several years later, and although the shop was still there, the bigfoot book had gone.

Regrettably, I hadn't taken notice of either its title or its author while looking at this book's cover, my attention having been focused upon its very striking wraparound illustration instead. Nevertheless, the memory of it has occasionally popped into my head during the subsequent four decades, as it did again on 7 April. However, after having failed on several previous occasions, this time I was determined to track down this long-vanished volume and identify it. And after scouring through untold lists of bigfoot-entitled books that night on ebay, Abebooks, Amazon, etc, I did indeed finally find it!

I did so by entering "bigfoot children's novel 1970s" in Google's Image Search (because I'd seen the book during the early 1980s, I guessed that it had probably been published in the 1970s – any earlier would have been most unlikely because bigfoot wasn't a well-known cryptid prior to the 1968 Patterson-Gimlin film). Sure enough, up popped a picture of the entire cover of a book, front and back, featuring a wraparound illustration that immediately clicked in my memory – that was it, that was the very same cover whose striking image had stayed with me all these years!

The book turned out to be The Boy Who Saw Bigfoot, a 96-page hardback novel aimed at young people, written by American children's authoress and bigfoot seeker Marian T. Place, who has also written various other bigfoot-themed novels for youngsters (as well as one non-fiction book), which was first published in 1979 by New York-based publisher Dodd, Mead & Company. I soon found for sale online a reasonably-priced good-condition copy of the Weekly Readers Books hardback edition featuring that same iconic cover illustration and published that same year, which I purchased straight away. It arrived safely from the States about a fortnight later. So after more than 40 years, I finally own this hitherto nebulous novel, and I now look forward to reading it at last. Finally: here is that very memorable wraparound cover that finally solved for me the longstanding mystery of the missing bigfoot book:

 
The very eyecatching full wraparound cover from my Weekly Readers Books hardback edition of The Boy Who Saw Bigfoot (© Marian T. Place/Dodd, Mead & Company/Weekly Readers Books – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

 

Thursday, 24 June 2021

AN UNDULATION OF SEA SERPENTS, AND OTHER COLLECTIVE NOUNS FOR CRYPTIDS AND MYTHICAL BEASTS

 
My newly-acquired copy of a fascinating book that I've been seeking for years – An Unkindness of Ravens: A Book of Collective Nouns by Chloe Rhodes, first published in 2014 by Michael O'Mara Books Limited (© Chloe Rhodes/Michael O'Mara Books Limited – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

As both a quizzer and a zoologist, when attending quizzes I am always expected by my team mates to know each and every one of the countless (in)famous, often highly-imaginative, and sometimes zoologically-nonsensical collective nouns for animals that seem to occur regularly but exclusively in quizzes (as they rarely if ever occur in formal zoological writings – or anywhere else, for that matter!).

These weird, tortuous terms include everything from a murder of crows, a wisdom of wombats, a pandemonium of parrots, a nye of pheasants, a business (or fesnyng) of ferrets, a charm of nightingales, an embarrassment of pandas, and an unkindness of ravens, to a troubling of goldfishes, an ambush of tigers (despite tigers being solitary animals!), an exaltation of larks, a tower of giraffes, an army of frogs, a smack of jellyfishes, a fever of stingrays, and a kettle of vultures (when circling), to mention but a very few of the vast array of such examples in existence. But what are the origins of these nightmarish nouns? I once had a golden opportunity to find out, but I let it slip through my fingers – until very recently, that is. Here's how.

Several years ago, I saw in one of those Booksale cut-price book/stationery shops that are present in most towns here in England, a small hardback book actually devoted specifically to collective nouns and providing extensively-researched accounts revealing their numerous, exceedingly varied origins. I spent quite a while perusing this book with great interest, yet, oddly, I didn't buy it, even though it wasn't expensive. Me being me, however, by the time that I'd arrived back home I was already regretting not having done so, but when I returned to the shop a couple of days later to buy the book, it had gone (in fact, there had been about four copies of it there on my previous visit, but during those two crucial, intervening days they had all been sold).

Despite checking in numerous Booksale shops in a number of different towns since then, I never saw it again, and because I'd neglected to note its title and author, I was unable to track it down online either. All that I could recall was that it was a small paperback-sized hardback with a black cover and that it had been published several years ago. And then came yesterday morning...

 
A kindle of kittens (© William M. Rebsamen)

That was when I was visiting a local car boot sale (England's equivalent to yard sales in the States), where at one stall all of the books, CDs, and DVDs were three for £1, mix 'n' match. I chose one DVD straight away (a sci fi-themed movie new to me entitled Time Shifters), but struggled to find anything else to complete the required trio of purchases. Eventually I found a second DVD, but no other DVDs there were of even remote interest to me, nor were the CDs or the books.

Then I noticed that a pile of books was almost hidden underneath a large box at the front of this stall, so I moved the box to look at the books. And there, right on the top of the pile, was a small hardback book with a black shiny cover, whose silver-lettered title read as follows: An Unkindness of Ravens: A Book of Collective Nouns. It was written by Chloe Rhodes and published in 2014. As soon as I opened it, and perused a few of the pages, I realised that this was indeed THE long-lost book on collective nouns that I'd been seeking ever since that ill-fated day when I'd failed to buy it in the Booksale shop! Needless to say, I quickly paid my £1 and put the two DVDs and my prodigal book safely in my carrier bag. Result!

I've started to browse through An Unkindness of Ravens, and can honestly say that it is one of the most fascinating and joyously quirky books that I've had the good fortune to read for many a long while. The Library Angel and the Seraph of Serendipity were certainly looking down upon me with great benevolence when I elected to move that  car boot stall's large box on the off-chance that the books underneath it may include something of worth!

After I had posted on my Facebook group 'Animal Discoveries and Curiosities' later that same day some details concerning my fortuitous literary find, they soon came to the attention of longstanding FB friend and University of Nottingham philosophy lecturer/researcher Ian James Kidd, who suggested a few apt and amusing cryptozoology-themed collective nouns. Namely:

 
A flutter of Mothmen – different interpretations of Mothman, by Swedish artist Richard Svensson (© Richard Svensson)

A flutter of Mothmen.

A hump of Nessies.

A paucity of dodos.

A shower of frogs (Forteans will particularly appreciate this one!).

A trek of cryptozoologists.

A wake of sea serpents (Heuvelmans-inspired).

After reading these, cryptozoological enthusiast Curt Gleason proffered a very apposite one of his own:

A storm of thunderbirds.

 
A thunderbird (© Tim Morris)

Moreover, I was inspired to devise some too. After all, as virtually every known animal that you can think of has been allocated a collective noun, why shouldn't unknown and legendary animals receive the same courtesy? So here is a brief listing of collective nouns that I have duly coined for various mystery and mythical beasts:

An ambivalence of amphisbaenas.

An atmosphere of sky beasts.

An avalanche of yetis.

An awakening of krakens.

A beaching of Gambos (and Trunkos – but also see later here).

A bewilderment of bunyips.

A bigfootery of sasquatches.

A bloodlust of vampires.

A bottle of homunculi.

A composite of chemosits (or Nandi bears).

A conflagration of dragons.

A confusion of basking sharks (identifiers of supposed sea serpent carcases will appreciate this one!).

A curse of werewolves (or a lurking of lycanthropes?).

A decapitation of waheelas.

A deception of perytons (these carnivorous winged stags cast human shadows).

A dinsdale of leviathans (in homage to the late Tim Dinsdale who wrote a very influential book on aquatic monsters entitled The Leviathans).

A discombobulation of dingoneks.

A doom of Black Dogs.

A drowning of kappas.

An evanescence (or elusiveness) of mystery cats.

A ferocity of dobhar-chús (aka Irish master otters).

 
A (tri)foliation of Green Men (© Dr Karl Shuker)

A foliation of Green Men.

A fraudulence of Feejee Mermaids.

A furnace of salamanders.

A gallop of pookas (and kelpies).

A glowing of ropens.

A goat-bothering of chupacabras.

A gorging of Gévaudan Beasts.

A haranguing of harpies.

A hoard of griffins (griffins were famous hoarders of gold).

A hoot of Owlmen.

A horror of Lizard Men.

An impossibility of Trunkos.

An improbability of thylacines (which I coined a while ago for a chapter on this 'officially' extinct yet frequently reported wolf-like marsupial in my book ShukerNature Book 2).

An inebriation of satyrs.

A joke of jackalopes.

A jungle of orang pendeks.

A majesty of king cheetahs.

A malombo of mokele-mbembes.

A mansi of Champs (after the famous Sandra Mansi photo of what may have been the Lake Champlain monster).

A menace of manticores.

A merriment of mer-folk.

 
A shock of Mongolian death worms (© Philippa Foster)

A minion of minotaurs.

A neck of Megalotarias (Heuvelmans's long-necked seal category of sea serpent).

An oddity of onzas.

An ogling of Ogopogos.

A panic of Big Grey Men of Ben MacDhui.

A petrification of gorgons.

A reverie of blue tigers.

A shock of Mongolian death worms.

A shriek of mandrakes.

A singularity of Questing Beasts (there's only one!).

A somnolence of sirens.

A squadron of rocs (or rukhs).

A stench of skunk apes (and mapinguaris).

A strangeness of nundas ('nunda' is Swahili for 'strange one').

A tradition of tatzelworms.

A trickery of tengus.

A twinning of centaurs (which are half-human, half-horse).

An undulation of sea serpents (a fair few known animals lay claim to more than one collective noun, so both mine and Ian's can be used for sea serpents) or Irish horse eels.

A vanishing of vorounpatras (and tratratratras).

A wilderness of wodewoses.

A wonder of waitorekes.

 
A trickery of tengus (public domain)

And last but certainly not least:

A concealment of cryptids.

Incidentally, there actually is an officially-recognised collective noun for unicorns – a blessing, which came up in a pub quiz once.

No doubt I'll think up more cryptozoology- and zoomythology-themed collective nouns as time goes by, and when I do, I'll include them here. So be sure to check back from time to time and see the latest additions to this list. Who knows, some of them may even catch on and become officially-accepted terms!

If so, you read them here first!

Postscript: I've just discovered that a couple of books on collective nouns for animals have also been published in the USA. These are: An Exaltation of Larks: The Ultimate Edition (1991) by James Lipton, and A Murmuration of Starlings: The Collective Nouns of Animals and Birds (2013) by Steve Palin.

Also well worthy of note are A Barrel of Monkeys: A Compendium of Collective Nouns For Animals (2015) by Samuel Fanous and Susie Dent, A Charm of Goldfinches and Other Collective Nouns (2016) by Matt Sewell, and A Dazzle of Flamboyance: An ABC of Collective Nouns For Groups of Animals (2020) by Wendy Hayden.

I think it highly likely that at least some of these volumes will be winging their way to me very shortly, to add to my newly-acquired one. A veritable collection of collective noun books, no less!

 
One of the strangest of all collective nouns for animals – a fesnyng of ferrets (but also known more memorably as a business); this bizarre word dates back as far as the 15th Century (© John Owens/Wikipedia – CC BY 2.5 licence)