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)

 

BRIDE OF THE LINDORM

The prince meeting his lindorm brother, from Folk Tales of the World, written by Roger Lancelyn Green, illustrated by Janet and Anne Grahame Johnstone, and published in 1966 by Purnell and Sons Ltd (© Roger Lancelyn Green/ Janet and Anne Grahame Johnstone/Purnell and Sons Ltd – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis only)

I owe much of my lifelong love of mythology to the wonderful works of Roger Lancelyn Green that my mother Mary Shuker bought for me when I was a child, in which he retold countless famous and little-known myths, legends, folktales, and fables from all around the world. Moreover, it was within these works that I first encountered many enthralling fabulous beasts and other folkloric entities, including the Japanese tanuki, the Mexican kuil kaax (click here for my ShukerNature coverage of this magical woodland spirit), the Australian kurreah (click here), and – in Green's delightful book Folk Tales of the World, exquisitely illustrated throughout in full colour by Janet and Anne Grahame Johnstone, which I still treasure to this day – the Swedish lindorm.

Lindorms are semi-dragons inasmuch as they occupy an intermediate echelon in the evolution of the dragon from the serpent. Typically (but not invariably) two-legged and wingless, lindorms have greater affinities with the serpents than with the classical dragons (in contrast, wyverns, which are also semi-dragons, possess not only a pair of legs but also a pair of wings, so they are closer to the classical dragons than to the serpents).

A sturdy typical two-limbed lindorm readily demonstrating its semi-dragon status, intermediate between a limbless serpent dragon and a quadrupedal classical dragon (public domain)

Incidentally, the term 'lindorm' should not be (but often is) confused with 'lindworm' – which technically should only be applied to wingless four-limbed classical dragons. In heraldry, however, it is commonly applied to lindorms.

Lindorms were commonly met with in churchyards, where they ghoulishly devoured human corpses, and would sometimes invade churches too. They occurred in great numbers amid the mountainous peaks of central Europe - indeed, the elaborate dragon-shaped fountain in Klagenfurt, Austria, was inspired by the discovery in 1335 of a supposed lindorm skull (it later proved to be from a woolly rhinoceros!).

A limbless Swedish lindorm, resembling a gigantic snake (© Richard Svensson)

Their favourite land, however, was Sweden, which contained quite a variety of versions, including legless lindorms and even one that sported a small pair of fore-wings instead of a pair of legs. But most Swedish lindorms were of the typical two-limbed variety. There are many traditional tales from this Scandinavian country concerning these particular semi-dragons, but perhaps the most celebrated example is the one that I shall now retell here.

A rare winged Swedish lindorm (© Richard Svensson)

Untold centuries ago, the Swedish monarch's queen lay in her bedchamber, about to give birth to twins - the fulfilment of many years of empty longing for the children that she seemed destined never to conceive. She smiled, as she remembered how, in final desperation, she had consulted a soothsayer who had assured her that in less than a year's time she would be granted two handsome sons - provided that she ate two fresh onions as soon as she returned home to the palace.

The advice seemed quite bizarre, but the queen was so aroused by the chance, however slim, that it offered to her that she made her way back to the palace at once, anxious to seek out the necessary vegetables without delay. Recalling this scene, she also remembered hearing the soothsayer calling after her, but as she had already told her about the onions, the soothsayer's message clearly couldn't have been of much importance, and so the queen hadn't wasted time turning back. Instead, she had continued her journey home, and upon arriving had ordered two crisp, mature onions to be brought to her immediately.

When she received them, the queen was so excited by the promise that these innocuous vegetables held that she ate the first one whole, without even stopping to peel the skins from it. Not surprisingly, however, it tasted quite revolting - and so in spite of her enthusiasm she spent time carefully peeling the second one, stripping away every layer of skin, before finally eating it. Nine months had passed since then, and now, precisely as prophesied by the soothsayer, she was about to bear her greatly-desired children.

'The Serpent of Arabia' – a lindorm sumptuously depicted in the Ripley Scroll, a 15^th-Century alchemical manuscript of emblematic symbolism, and of unknown origin but named after Sir George Ripley, a famous English alchemist (public domain)

The palace courtiers and staff eagerly clamoured outside the royal bedchamber, awaiting the official announcement of the new princes' births. Suddenly, an ear-splitting scream echoed within the chamber - but it was not the lusty cry of a newborn baby. It was, instead, a shriek of horror - an eldritch wail that leapt unbidden from the throat of the royal midwife when she set eyes upon the queen's firstborn. It was male - but it was not human.

The queen had given birth to a lindorm - a hideous snake-like dragon, whose wingless elongate body thrashed upon the marble floor in innumerable scaly coils, and from whose shoulders sprang a pair of powerful limbs with taloned feet. Deathly pale and so repulsed by the creature that she was unable even to whisper, let alone scream, it was the queen, still in labour with her second child, who leaned down, took the young lindorm in her arms - and hurled it, with all the power that her loathing could summon, through a nearby window, from where the creature plummeted into the dense forest surrounding the palace.

Weakened from the exertion, she sank back upon the bed, and gave birth again - but this time to a perfectly healthy, fresh-faced boy, with golden hair and sparkling blue eyes.

Encountering a traditional two-limbed lindorm in Switzerland, from Itinera per Helvetiae Alpinas Regiones Facta Annis 1702-1711 by Swiss scholar Johann Jakob Scheuchzer, 1723 (public domain)

Years passed by, and the boy became a youthful prince in search of a bride - but what he found was his brother, the lindorm. The prince had been riding around the perimeter of the vast forest encompassing the palace when, without warning, a huge ophidian head had emerged from a thorny bush directly ahead. Rearing up until its green-scaled body resembled a towering tree, the lindorm gazed down at the youth with unblinking eyes of amber that effortlessly penetrated his innermost thoughts. And as the prince stared back, mesmerised and motionless before this monstrous entity, he heard its voice, intoning deep within his mind - a voice that assured him with cold, reptilian detachment and certainty that he would never find a wife until he, his elder brother, had obtained the true love of a willing bride.

Accordingly, over the next few months a succession of village maidens were given to the lindorm, in the hope of overcoming this barrier to the young prince's quest for a bride. Needless to say, however, none of the maidens were thrilled at the prospect of marriage to a lindorm, so none came willingly - and, inevitably therefore, none was accepted by the monster. The situation seemed irreconcilable - until one day, that is, when the next maiden selected to be the lindorm's bride had the good fortune to encounter beforehand the soothsayer whom the queen had consulted all those years ago. After listening sympathetically as the maiden spoke of her impending plight, the soothsayer whispered into her ear some words of advice that swiftly replaced her sadness with a smile of joy.

The maiden instructing the lindorm to shed its first skin, as portrayed by Arthur Rackham (public domain)

That night, the maiden was presented to the lindorm, who gruffly told her to take off her dresses - of which she seemed to be wearing a surprising number. She agreed to do this - but only after extracting from the lindorm the promise that for every dress she took off, it would shed a layer of skin. This it did, until only a single layer remained - and until the maiden was clothed in just a single robe.

The maiden removing her first dress, watched closely by the lindorm after shedding its first skin as demanded by her - illustrated by Henry Justice Ford (public domain)

Despite remembering the soothsayer's words, it was not without a degree of nervousness that she then removed this final gown and stood still, and naked, before the great dragon.

The lindorm moved towards her, and the maiden tensed - fearing yet desiring what was to come, for if the soothsayer had spoken truthfully to her there would be great happiness, and great love, ahead. And so she stood erect, motionless, as the serpentine monster leisurely, almost tenderly, enveloped her body in its scaly coils. She had expected them to feel cold and slimy, and was therefore pleasantly surprised by their warmth and softness - embracing and caressing her in their muscular folds.

Even so, she felt a flicker of terror rising within her - a desire to close her eyes, to scream, to flee, to do anything rather than remain here. Then the words of the wise old soothsayer came back to her, calming her mind, and she relaxed again.

Gazing about her, she noticed that the lindorm's last layer of skin was so thin as to be almost translucent, and was beginning to peel away, folding back upon itself like a cluster of withered leaves. At the same time, a strange green mist manifested all around, bathing the lindorm in a viridescent haze until she was aware of the creature's continuing presence only from the embrace of its sinuous body.

Gradually, however, the mist dispersed - and revealed that she was no longer wrapped within the serpentine coils of a lindorm after all, but within the firm arms of the most handsome man she had ever seen!

A somewhat Oriental-looking lindorm (public domain)

The soothsayer had indeed spoken truthfully - by following her instructions, the enchantment that had incarcerated him within the guise of a lindorm had been dispelled, and here was the elder prince, heir to the country's throne, and for whom the maiden would indeed be a very willing bride. The joyful marriage took place without delay, and after the old queen had given her blessing to the newly-weds, who were now the new king and queen, she felt someone lightly tap her shoulder.

It was the soothsayer, who revealed to her the information that she had not stayed to hear all those years ago - namely, make sure that she peeled both onions before eating them!

This ShukerNature blog article is excerpted from my book Dragons: A Natural History (1995). See also my more recent book, Dragons in Zoology, Cryptozoology, and Culture (2013), for detailed coverage of lindorms in mythology, cryptozoology, and natural history.

ST GEORGE AND A VERY POLYMORPHIC DRAGON

St George and the Dragon, painted as a wyvern-like creature by Paris Bordon (Dr Karl Shuker)


Today, 23 April, is St George's Day. So here, by way of celebration, is the never-before-seen unedited version of my retelling of the famous legend of St George and the Dragon that appeared in my book Dragons: A Natural History (1995). Interestingly, as seen from the illustrations included here, down through the ages artists have visualised St George's reptilian foe in an unparalleled diversity of shapes, sizes, colours, and forms – everything, in fact, from a serpent dragon and lindorm to a wyvern and both wingless and winged classical dragons. Verily, a polymorphic dragon forsooth!

Here's one I slew earlier! (Dr Karl Shuker)


ST GEORGE AND THE DRAGON OF SILENE

It was the dawn of the 3rd Century AD - and now it was also the dawn of the doom-laden day that the king of Silene, in Libya, had long been awaiting with icy dread. For today, his beloved, only daughter would be sacrificed to the marsh-dwelling monster that had been terrorising his land for what seemed like an eternity of hope-enveloping horror.

A 15th-Century plaque from Georgia, depicting St George slaying an unusually attractive dragon adorned with multicoloured tesselate scaling

He could still recall with painful clarity this baleful beast's first appearance - a huge winged dragon with long, spiralling tail and olive-green, crocodilian scales, venturing forth from Silene's vast, unpenetrated swamplands many months ago, and choking the countryside with stifling, stench-laden clouds of poisonous vapour that blighted everything it embraced.

Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones portrayed St George's reptilian aggressor as a mail-encased crocodilian form of wingless classical dragon

In an attempt to quell its venomous violation of Silene, the local farmers had fed the monster with two sheep each day - a strategy that succeeded until the day came when there were no more sheep, whereupon the reptilian tyrant recommenced its own strategy, of devastation by asphyxiation. That was when, with heavy heart and mortified soul, the king had finally agreed to the daily sacrifice of a child, in the hope of assuaging the dragon's wrath long enough for some miracle to deliver Silene from this animate abomination.

A rare beast indeed – this early depiction of St George and the dragon by an artist unknown (at least to me!) depicts the dragon as a winged lindorm!

The days, and the weeks, had fled by, and no miracle had appeared - until at last, the morning had come when it was now the turn of the king's own daughter, the fair princess Alcyone, to be tied to a stark wooden stake at the swamp's perimeter and surrendered to the loathsome creature concealed within it. No-one suspected that the miracle for which the king and everyone else in Silene had prayed so earnestly and for so long was about to occur.

Yurigor Bachev's dazzlingly spectacular portrayal of St George battling a wyvernesque dragon

Bound upright to the stake, the princess had been standing there for only a few moments when her face grew ashen with fear, for she had heard the sounds of thunderous footsteps approaching ever nearer - assuredly the herald of her impending doom. Suddenly, however, she realised that the sounds were emanating not from the swamp ahead, but from the plains directly behind her, so she craned her neck back to discover what, or who, was responsible - and saw a tall knight, ensheathed in silver-grey armour with a breast-plate of white, upon which was emblazoned a scarlet cross. He had just dismounted from a cream-coated charger, and was carrying a long lance and a white shield, adorned once again with a cross of scarlet, as he walked briskly towards the tethered maiden.

Leonard Porter's beautiful portrayal of the popular, romanticised image of St George and the dragon, with the latter as a small but archetypal winged classical dragon

It did not require much explanation from the princess to acquaint the knight fully with the situation - and he in turn wasted little time in lengthy accounts concerning himself. His name was George, he had grown up in Cappadocia, eastern Turkey, and had been a soldier in the Roman army before becoming converted to Christianity. Now he served under no-one but God, spreading the Lord's word wherever he journeyed.

This wonderful stained-glass window (artist unknown) overlooking the staircase at my home portrays St George's vanquished antagonist as a serpent dragon, sans limbs and wings

A corporeal manifestation of evil, the dragon embodied everything that George had pledged to confront and conquer - and so, heedless of her pleas to save himself while there was still time, George untied the princess and stood in her stead, valiantly prepared for battle with her monstrous foe. He did not have to wait long. Without warning, the dense reed beds fronting a steaming quagmire close by were thrust apart, as a great reptilian head borne upon a powerful neck forced its way through them, followed by a massive body supported on four muscular limbs, and a lithe tail twisting furiously like a living corkscrew.

Carpaggio's breathtaking masterpiece, portraying the dragon in classical four-limbed winged mode

During his travels through many strange lands, George had seen all manner of vile, misbegotten apparitions, but nothing prepared him for the wave of nauseous revulsion that swept over him as he beheld the dragon of Silene. Dripping with bilious, stinking slime that emphasised the livid hue of its scales, the hideous creature resembled a misshapen, obscene pile of rotting meat - green with putrefaction, oozing with decay, and reeking of death.

Portrayed here by Jost Haller, the dragon is disconcertingly mammalian in form - so much so, in fact, that I find myself feeling a distinct pang or two of unease when viewing its demise

Longing to avert his eyes and nose from such a sickening presence but intent upon vanquishing it from the face of the earth, George raised his right arm, and was just about to plunge his lance into the monster's head when two shapeless lumps flanking its neck's broad base suddenly burst into life - and to his bewilderment, George found himself surrounded by a flurry of blazing eyes. Everywhere he looked, they glowed and dazzled him, hypnotising him with their terrible allure - until he raised his arm again, and hurled the lance with all his might into the very heart of this spellbinding vista of unblinking, dancing orbs.

St George and the Dragon, painted as an ocellate-winged wyvern by Paolo Uccello

A terrible scream rent the air, and the eyes vanished. No longer mesmerised by their movement, the knight looked down - and there lay the dragon, still alive but mortally wounded, his great lance protruding through its upper jaw and into its throat. And over its body, like an ornate shroud, lay its immense wings - whose bright ocellated markings, resembling an array of brilliant eyes, had so effectively bewitched George's vision.

George, by George! - St George and a classical winged dragon, as painted by George Scott

Running to him in delight came the princess Alcyone, and once they had tied the girdle of her dress around the subdued dragon's neck they returned on horseback to her father's castle, leading the monster alongside George's mighty steed. There, in return for the knight's promise to slay the dragon, the overjoyed king and subjects of Silene willingly agreed to be baptized by him and thus be converted to the Christian faith. True to his word, George beheaded their onetime oppressor forthwith, and after bidding farewell to Alcyone her valorous deliverer rode away, into a future that would shortly transform him into a Christian martyr, and, many centuries later, into a certain race of medieval Crusaders' patron saint - thereafter to be known forever as St George of England.

St George and the Dragon, painted by Rogier van der Weyden

Of course, if you're wondering how I could have just stood by and allowed such a cryptozoologically-priceless specimen as a dragon be cruelly slain by St George, the answer is that I didn't - and here's the evidence! Cute little guy, isn't he? ;-)

With a fiery little friend! (Dr Karl Shuker)