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 mystery insect. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mystery insect. Show all posts

Saturday, 22 February 2025

PRESENTING THE PYRALLIS - BORN (AND BORNE) WITHIN THE FIERY FURNACES OF ANCIENT CYPRUS

 
Is this what the fire-sustained pyrallis is said to have looked like in ancient Cyprus? This is #1 of ten original pyrallis representations included by me in this article.

The classical mythology of ancient Greece is plentifully populated by all manner of famous legendary beasts – from centaurs, satyrs, gorgons, and Stymphalian birds to harpies, sirens, the minotaur, and much more. There are also some far less familiar but no less fascinating examples, including the diminutive but thought-provoking fusion of herpetology and entomology presented here now – namely, the pyrallis of ancient Cyprus.

Also known variously as the pyrausta, pyragones, or pyrotocon, the pyrallis derives all of its names from the Greek word 'pyr', which translates as 'fire', because it is intimately associated with this traditional fundamental element. According to traditional classical Greek legend, the pyrallis was a tiny incandescent beast resembling a winged, four-limbed, golden insect but in more recent times it is often represented with a scaly reptilian body and the head of a fire-breathing dragon too.

 
A 16th-Century woodcut engraving of a basic copper-smelting furnace like those in ancient Cyprus (public domain)

Moreover, not only was it born in but also spent its entire life flitting amongst the coruscating flames of copper-smelting furnaces in Cyprus, living amid these blazing domains in great swarms resembling gleaming showers of glowing sparks, borne upon the furnaces' billowing heat and smoke. Should any of these minute insectoids fly beyond the confines of their infernal abode for even a split-second, however, they would instantly turn to ash and die.

In that respect, the pyrallis, although entirely different in form and size, is reminiscent of another creature from Greek fable, the fire-inhabiting salamander, after which real-life salamanders are named (even though they certainly do not inhabit fire!).

 
Image of the fire-inhabiting mythical salamander, created by me using Magic Studio

Needless to say, it was long assumed that such a fanciful animal as the pyrallis was indeed entirely fabulous, with no basis in reality. However, as will now be revealed here, although attracting scant scientific attention even at the time of its original presentation in a published article, and nowadays, 75 years later, having been all but forgotten, there is one compelling line of speculation that seeks to identify this mythical mini-beast with a certain bona fide species, one whose own intimate association with fire may have genuinely inspired the pyrallis legend.

The earliest record relating unequivocally to the pyrallis as described by me above is a brief passage that can be found in Chapter 36 (not 42 as sometimes incorrectly claimed) of Book #11 from Naturalis Historia (The Natural History). This is the  encyclopaedic magnum opus produced by the eminent 1st-Century Roman scholar/naturalist Pliny the Elder (23/24 AD to 79 AD), which consists of 37 books contained within ten volumes.

 
Portrait engraving of Pliny The Elder (public domain)

In the 1855 English translation of Naturalis Historia prepared by Dr John Bostock, the relevant passage reads as follows:

That element [fire], also, which is so destructive to matter, produces certain animals; for in the copper-smelting furnaces of Cyprus, in the very midst of the fire, there is to be seen flying about a four-footed animal with wings, the size of a large fly: this creature is called the "pyrallis," and by some the "pyrausta." So long as it remains in the fire it will live, but if it comes out and flies a little distance from it, it will instantly die.

 
Pyrallis #2

True, it was not the first pyrallis mention. In his comprehensive work History of Animals, celebrated Greek scholar Aristotle (384-322 BC) stated that the turtle dove was at war with the pyrallis. However, he seemingly considered the latter creature to be merely some form of unspectacular bird, as this mention was contained within a paragraph devoted entirely to warfare between different types of familiar bird, such as the owl, crow, raven, kite, green woodpecker, gull, tern, and buzzard. Consequently, it would appear to have no relevance to the fire-sustaining insect-dragon under investigation by me here. (Indeed, various Aristotlean researchers have identified this avian pyrallis as a type of pigeon, the pygmy dove.)

Conversely, and also confusingly, elsewhere in his same work Aristotle described in some detail a creature that he did not name but which is evidently one and the same as the pyrallis that would be named and documented by Pliny three centuries later.

 
Aristotle bust, a marble, Roman copy after a Greek bronze original by Lysippos from 330 BC (public domain)

Here is Aristotle's account of his unnamed version:

Living animals are found in substances that are usually supposed to be incapable of putrefaction…In Cyprus, in places where copper-ore is smelted, with heaps of the ore piled on day after day, an animal is engendered in the fire, somewhat larger than a blue bottle fly, furnished with wings, which can hop or crawl through the fire. And…perish when you keep the one away from the fire…Now the salamander is a clear case in point, to show us that animals do actually exist that fire cannot destroy; for this creature, so the story goes, not only walks through the fire but puts it out in doing so…Such is the mode of generation of the insects above enumerated.

 
Pyrallis #3

It is clear that this passage by Aristotle describing an unnamed blue bottle-sized fire-inhabiting creature was the primary source utilized by Pliny for his own version, in which said creature was referred to by him by name, as the pyrallis (or pyrocausta), and also that Aristotle deemed it to be some type of insect. Less clear, meanwhile, is why Aristotle applied that very same name, pyrallis, to an entirely different, wholly unrelated creature, a kind of bird. All very strange, and bewildering!

Anyway, one subsequent early work also documented the pyrallis, albeit not by that name. This work was Book 2 of De Natura Animalium, a 17-book collection of brief accounts and anecdotes concerning natural history, written by Roman author Aelian, aka Claudius Aelianus (c175-c235 AD), with a particular emphasis upon extraordinary or fabulous cases.

 
A vintage claimed likeness of Aelian (public domain)

Here is the short passage that he wrote about creatures that he termed fire-flies but which obviously referred to the pyrallis:

That living creatures should be born upon the mountains, in the air, and in the sea, is no great marvel [I'd beg to differ regarding creatures being born in the air!], since matter, food, and nature are the cause. But that there should spring from fire winged creatures which men call 'Fire-flies,' and that these should live and flourish in it, flying to and fro about it, is a startling fact. And what is more extraordinary, when these creatures stray outside the range of the heat to which they are accustomed and take in cold air, they at once perish. And why they should be born in the fire and die in the air others must explain.

 
Pyrallis #4

Notwithstanding Aelian's naming of them as fire-flies, these mythical entities' fire-generated, fire-inhabiting lifestyle sets them wholly apart from the real-life insects known to us today as fire-flies, which are bioluminescent lampyrid beetles, and also include the familiar glow-worms. For their only connection to fire is the fiery light that they emit. Perhaps, therefore, Alien had somehow conflated the legendary pyrallis with the genuine fire-flies and glow-worms.

Whatever the explanation for his nomenclatural confusion, however, Aelian certainly seemed to believe in the authenticity of the pyrallis, so might there be a real-life insect known to him that gave rise to this legendary mini-monster? Such a fascinating notion was put forward as a very plausible possibility in 1950 by Emile Janssens, via a fascinating yet little-known paper published in French by the scientific journal Latomus, in turn published by the Société d'Études Latines de Bruxelles, in Belgium.

 
A smoke fly, Microsania sp., greatly enlarged (public domain)

As Janssens noted in his paper, pyrophilic or pyrophilous (fire-loving) insects are far from unknown. Take, for example, the aptly-dubbed smoke flies of the genus Microsania, belonging to the taxonomic family Platypezidae, the flat-footed flies. Just a few millimeters long at most, typically hump-backed in appearance, and of global distribution, these diminutive dipterans seem to appear from nowhere wherever there is a fire and smoke, and swarm amidst the fire like motes of black ash, then vanish as swiftly as they appeared once the fire dies and the smoke dissipates.

Their attraction to fire was first scientifically recorded by Belgian entomologist G. Severin via a 1921 paper, in which he revealed how, after having sought in vain for any Microsania specimens for 20 years within a particular area of Belgium, he unexpectedly observed numerous individuals dancing in swarms amidst the smoke generated by a heath fire in that very same locality, but that was not all. Not one specimen could be found more than a few feet (1 m) beyond the perimeter of the fire and its smoke; and once the fire had ceased and its embers had cooled, every last fly disappeared, not a single one remaining in the area.

 
The common blue bottle fly Calliphora vomitoria (© Shiv's fotografia/Wikipedia – CC BY-SA 4.0 licence)

This scenario bears much more than a passing resemblance to that of the pyrallis legend, as Janssens commented in his paper. Nevertheless, he dismissed these flies as the likely identity for the latter entity on account of how tiny they are, in stark contrast to the classical writers quoted by me earlier here all stating that the pyrallis was the size of a large blue bottle fly, i.e. Calliphora vomitoria, a very familiar species of blow fly, which measures 1-1.5 cm long and is therefore considerably bigger than a Microsania fly.

Although far from unknown as noted earlier, out of the more than 1 million insect species currently described by science (and with countless more still awaiting description) only around 50-60 of them are pyrophilic. Of these, moreover, the vast majority are beetles, plus ten dipterans (true flies), eight hemipteran bugs, one wasp, and one moth. Two of the best-known pyrophilic beetles are a pair of European carabid (ground beetle) species – Sericoda quadripunctata (attracted to severe burning outbreaks) and Pterostichus quadrifoleolatus (to weak burnings).

 
Sericoda quadripunctata, a European species of pyrophilic carabid (ground beetle) (©Yves Bousquet/Wikipedia – CC BY 3.0 licence)

By far the most famous and best-studied pyrophilic beetle species, however, and which was favoured above all other real-life creatures by Janssens as the identity of (or at least the inspiration for) the pyrallis, is a certain European species of buprestid wood-boring beetle. Despite its sombre black colouration, Melanophila acuminata is colloquially known as the fire beetle or fire bug, due to its decidedly fiery lifestyle, in every sense.

For just like the smoke flies, this insect species is irresistibly drawn to fire (hence yet another name for it, the fire-chaser beetle) – so much so that whenever there is a forest fire and all other creatures are fleeing away from it, these beetles are seen fleeing towards it! Indeed, rural fire fighters are often greatly hindered by large swarms of them while trying to extinguish such blazes, to the extent that they often have to wear special beekeeper attire in order to prevent these beetles from penetrating their clothes and biting them!

 
An adult fire beetle Melanophila acuminata (© AG Prof. Schmitz/Wikipedia – CC BY-SA 2.5 licence)

Several studies of this bizarre beetle, which is approximately 1 cm long, the size of a blue bottle fly, have uncovered the reason for its obsession with fire and the various anatomical accessories that it has evolved to assist it in locating conflagrations. As is so often true in so many disparate walks of life, it all has its basis in sex!

The fire beetle has evolved to copulate specifically upon the still-burning wood of newly-scorched trees, especially conifers, and to lay its eggs beneath the charred bark of such trees, which then serves as food for this beetle's white maggot-like larvae once hatched. Even its feet have evolved an asbestos-like resistance to high temperatures that enables it to scuttle around unharmed on smoldering wood and sizzling embers too hot for a human hand to dare touch.

 
Melanophila acuminata larva on Pinus sylvestris, the Scots pine (© Gilles San Martin/Wikipedia – CC BY-SA 2.0 licence)

But how do fire beetles sense the presence of a fire? Examinations of their micro-anatomy have revealed that just like certain heat-sensing snakes such as pit vipers and rattlesnakes, these beetles possess a pair of thermal infra-red receptors, resembling tiny pits. These sensory organs are present on their thorax's undersurface, each containing a small water droplet that expands when heat is detected, triggering a nervous system response to follow the heat source.

They are extraordinarily sensitive to heat, enabling the beetles to home in on a fire from very considerable distances. In fact, one study whose results were published in 2012 estimated via the use of modeling that this particular species could detect a fire from as far away as 80 miles (roughly 130 km)!

 
Pyrallis #5

In addition, there are olfactory organs on the antennae of this species that some researchers believe may detect smoke and thereby further assist it in its fire-sensing needs. No doubt such organs explain instances in which these insects have been known to swarm en masse at American football stadiums during a game, lured there by the thick haze of tobacco smoke resulting from the game's numerous smoking spectators.

Bearing in mind, however, as I've revealed earlier here, that the fire beetle is not the only known European species of pyrophilic beetle, why did Janssens favour it above all of the others as a possible explanation for the pyrallis legend?

 
Pyrallis #6

After referring briefly to one of those others, here is what he stated in his paper:

But there is better. We know, thanks to the English entomologist W[illiam]. E. Sharp, the extraordinary habits of a Buprestid beetle which flies with the vivacity of a fly and which has the size required by the indications of ancient authors. It is Melanophila acuminata.

 
Pyrallis #7

He then quoted a very pertinent excerpt concerning Sharp that had appeared in a 1934 scientific account written by fellow entomologist A. Collart and published in the Société Entomologiquede Belgique's Bulletin. Knowing that this species could be found on charred pine tree trunks, Sharp had set about seeking specimens of it in a Berkshire pine forest where a fire had recently broken out. As documented by Collart:

It was only after a long search that a single specimen of Melanophila was caught on a charred stump of Pine; this was a meagre harvest, when, guided by a distant smoke, Mr. Sharp and the friend who accompanied him arrived at a place where the fire was still active. Immediately several specimens of Melanophila were captured; some were running on ground too hot for the hand to be able to rest on it. Others were installed, often in copula on burning pine stumps or, under a bright August sun, flew through puffs of acrid smoke released by the burning peat; and, grilled by the peaty materials on fire, blinded by a suffocating smoke, the two researchers made a painful but very fruitful hunt for the Melanophila!

 
Pyrallis #8

As Janssens judiciously pointed out, the above description certainly parallels that of Aelian (as well as Pliny's and Aristotle's) for the pyrallis. Moreover, it is reasonable to assume that the fuel used in the copper ore furnaces of Cyprus long ago consisted mainly of resinous pine wood.

And whereas fire beetles do not actually die when they eventually depart from the fire and smoke that initially attracted them, they do disappear back into their rural surroundings with extraordinary rapidity, plus their dark colouration makes them difficult to observe when no longer illuminated by the bright glow of a fire. So again it is not unreasonable to assume that ancient Cypriot observers assumed that they had simply turned to ash and died.

 
Pyrallis #9

Consequently, I certainly feel that Janssens's proposal that the pyrallis myth was inspired by sightings of fire beetles swarming and flying amidst the burning, smoking pine wood fuel in copper ore furnaces to be a tenable one, and it is a great shame that it did not receive the scientific attention and further investigation that it so richly deserved.

NB – All pyrallis illustrations included here were created by me using Magic Studio, and represent this legendary beast in a variety of different forms, including insect-headed, dragon-headed, four-limbed, and six-limbed, all of which are descriptions that have been attributed to it by various authors down through the ages.

 
Pyrallis #10

 

Saturday, 15 July 2017

THE LOCUST OF KALISZ? MORE LIKE A DALI-ESQUE DEATHSHEAD!


Close-up of the so-called 'Locust of Kalisz' drawing, contained in the scrapbook album compiled and given by friends to General Joachim Daniel von Jauch as a birthday present sometime during the early 1750s (public domain)

Its many shortcomings and dark aspects notwithstanding, I have long considered the internet to be the greatest cabinet of curiosities ever assembled, a limitless repository replete with wonders and marvels of every conceivable – and inconceivable – kind, all awaiting uncovering and investigation by those with a mind to do so. Over the years, I have documented here on ShukerNature an extremely diverse array of my own cryptozoology-related discoveries made in this manner, of which the present one is just the latest in a very extensive and – at least for me, but I hope for you too – a thoroughly entrancing series with no end in sight, thankfully.

And so it was that while idly browsing last night through the vast virtual art gallery of online images that is freely available via Wikimedia Commons, I typed 'Cryptozoology' in its search engine bar, and instantly called up an entertaining selection of pictures appertaining to mystery beasts. As I browsed through them, I recognised every one with varying degrees of familiarity – until, that is, I came to the extraordinary drawing that opens this current ShukerNature article, and was immediately aware that I had never encountered it before.

As can be seen here, on Wikimedia Commons this drawing has been entitled 'Szarańcza z Kalisza', which translates from Polish as 'Locust of Kalisz', dates from no earlier than 1749, and is accompanied by the following description: 'Zmierzchnica trupia główka ze sztambucha generała Joachima Daniela Jaucha' (very loosely translated via Google Translate as 'the dreaded head of General Joachim Daniel Jauch on paper'). What can this weird insect be, who was Joachim Daniel Jauch, and what is their common history? Needless to say, my sense of cryptozoological curiosity was irresistibly stimulated, and so, in best Sherlockian response, the game was afoot!

The 'Locust of Kalisz' drawing with its bilingual caption inscribed below it - click to enlarge (public domain)

My first line of investigation was to translate the handwritten caption inscribed directly below the drawing itself. It was present in two separate languages, Old Polish and German, but the script was very faint in both, the ink having long since faded considerably. Happily, however, with great thanks to the much-welcomed translation skills of Facebook friend Miroslav Fismeister and one of his friends, Polish novelist Daniel Koziarski, for the Old Polish version and the much-appreciated assistance of German cryptozoological friend and colleague Markus Bühler for the German version, I am able to provide the following English translation:

The year 1749: A plague of locusts fell a mile from Kalisz, of which two were caught, one was held in Gniezno capital and the other in the OO. Reformation church in Kalisz. When taken in the hand, it was screaming like a bat, yellow foam was coming from its mouth, all of it was hairy, Death on the chest, two hairy legs, squirrel's teeth, etc.

Kalisz is a city in central Poland (and the oldest still existing anywhere in this country), and Gniezno is a city in central-western Poland that was this country's first capital city. Moreover, the OO. Reformation church in Kalisz was conceivably a Reformed Franciscan church and is apparently now the Church of the Holy Family there. Sadly, I currently have no information concerning the fate of the two captured specimens – were they preserved and retained somewhere, I wonder, or simply discarded? Hence I am treating this case as an investigation still in progress. However, combining the verbal description's details with the visual details present in the drawing did swiftly enable me to identify the insect. Albeit exhibiting considerable artistic licence and not a little inaccuracy, whereas the drawing clearly does not portray a locust it was evidently inspired by Acherontia atropos – the deathshead hawk moth, one of Europe's largest lepidopterans (click here for a ShukerNature blog article devoted to this morphologically and behaviourally distinctive species).

True, the characteristic thoracic marking resembling a skull and earning this particular moth its familiar English name was depicted ventrally rather than dorsally in this strange drawing, and in it the insect had been given a grinning human face sporting a decidedly Salvador Dali-esque upward-curving moustache, but this latter feature may have been intended as a whimsical adaptation of the moth's long thick antennae. Indeed, in overall appearance the depicted insect definitely seems to constitute a deliberately comical, humanoid caricature of A. atropos, which would explain why it was only given two legs (but ending in claws, like a moth's, rather than human feet), yet incorporating certain unequivocally Acherontian attributes too, such as the banding upon its rear wings, and its hairy body. Of particular relevance here is that the creature's alleged bat-like screaming – ostensibly nonsensical in relation to a moth – is actually a famous, characteristic feature of this particular moth species For it can emit a shrill, high-pitched squeaking sound, which is created by the moth's powerful inhalation of air into its pharynx, causing a stiffened flap called the epipharynx to vibrate very rapidly (click here for more details).

Exquisite 19th-Century illustration of a deathshead hawk moth (public domain)

But what about the description of the drawing assigned to it on Wikimedia Commons? Clearly "the dreaded head" means "the deathshead", referring to the eponymous moth species, but who was General Joachim Daniel Jauch? I soon discovered that he was General Joachim Daniel von Jauch (1688-1754), a German-born architect, civilian engineer, and military man, who had supervised the Baroque development of Warsaw, being responsible for the urban planning and designing or rebuilding of many of its new buildings, and he had also served in the Polish army as an artilleryman, steadily rising up through the ranks. But how was Jauch linked to the humanoid deathshead hawk moth drawing?

In spite of its very striking, memorable appearance, this enigmatic illustration conjured forth a surprisingly scant amount of information when utilising it as the focus of a Google Image-based internet search. However, I am nothing if not persistent (i.e. stubborn!), so eventually I unearthed sufficient details to flesh out its hitherto-opaque history. The drawing originated in a scrapbook-like album filled with all manner of artwork, which was seemingly compiled by some of Jauch's friends as a birthday present for him and presented to him during the early 1750s (precise year not known), i.e. not long before his death.

Containing over 150 exquisite drawings and other art, variously executed in pen-ink, sepia-ink, crayon, pencil, watercolour, and gouache, this unique and very beautiful leather-covered album can be viewed directly online at the website of the National Digital Library of Poland (Biblioteki Cyfrowej Polona), and the humanoid moth (aka Locust of Kalisz) with its accompanying handwritten bilingual caption can be found on p. 95 (click here to view this page and to access the entire album). The album's diverse artwork includes various architectural designs, sketches and graphics, scenes from mythology, antique sculpture studies, natural history illustrations, and portraits.

Page 95 from Jauch's album, showing the 'humanoid moth' (aka Locust of Kalisz) drawing in situ (public domain)

I also discovered a concise, excellent online article in Polish concerning this drawing (click here), in relation to which Google Translate once again came to my rescue by yielding a workable English version. Dated 11 March 2014, the article was written by Łukasz Kozak, an expert in relation to medieval times and editor at the National Digital Library of Poland, and had been posted on the latter's website. In it, he confirmed that the insect was indeed intended to be a deathshead hawk moth, and documented what I too have written about elsewhere regarding this species' unusual squeaking ability. However, he also provided some very welcome additional information concerning the background history of this intriguing case, including the following details.

As noted earlier, the album is filled with many images, which include numerous full-colour illustrations of plants and animals (such as rodents, birds, reptiles, and insects) that are generally portrayed in a very accurate, naturalistic manner. The artist responsible for these latter illustrations is believed to have been Fraulein de Naumann, as Łukasz had revealed during his own investigation of the moth drawing. She was probably the daughter of architect Johann Christoph von Naumann, who in turn was not only Jauch's predecessor at the architect office where he had worked but also his brother-in-law. Łukasz then went on to reveal the deathshead hawk moth as the species upon which the drawing had been based, and gave some interesting examples from fact and fiction previously unknown to me regarding how the eerie nature of its squeaking had terrified persons in the past who were unfamiliar with this osensibly unnatural ability, thus filling them with superstitious dread.

Łukasz also appears in a short online video in which he looks through Jauch's album, displays the moth drawing, and then discusses it. This video is embedded in an article written by him and first posted on the Newsweek Polska website on 11 February 2015, but unfortunately as he speaks only in Polish I was initially unable to obtain any information from it (click here to access the article and view the video). Happily, however, Katarzyna Bylok, the Polish girlfriend of fellow Fortean/mystery beast investigator Matt Cook, kindly viewed it for me earlier this evening, and the details concerning it that she passed onto me afterwards via Matt confirm that Łukasz was merely reiterating the details that he had previously presented in his March 2014 article. Many thanks indeed to Katarzyna and Matt for kindly assisting me regarding this.

Still of Łukasz Kozak from Newsweek Polska video (© Łukasz Kozak/Newsweek Polska – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational purposes only)

However, there are certain key issues related to this memorable drawing that remain unresolved - or do they?

Notable among these is why Fraulein de Naumann prepared such a surreal, unrealistic image anyway, bearing in mind that all of her other illustrations in the album were so life-like. Might it have been a humorous caricature of Jauch himself?

The following painting of Jauch was prepared in c.1720, and he is not portrayed in it with a moustache of any kind, but perhaps he grew and maintained one in later years?

General Joachim Daniel von Jauch, painted in c.1720, artist unknown (public domain)

Alternatively, could it have even been a comical representation of her own father, as she would have known that he and Jauch had worked in the same office? Or perhaps it was not based upon a real person at all, but was just a light-hearted doodle created in jest to add some merriment to the album, bearing in mind that it had been created specifically as a birthday present for him?

Yet another theory that has been suggested by some writers online, including biologist Prof. Stanislaw Czachorowski in an article of 9 February 2014 dealing with the deathshead hawk moth (click here), and which would certainly explain why it differed so dramatically from the other wildlife illustrations, is also worth considering. Namely, that this drawing was in fact produced by Jauch himself, and was based not upon any sightings of his own but only upon secondhand descriptions or lurid folkloric accounts of the deathshead hawk moth (another reason for its stark inaccuracy), which he interpolated in a blank space on p. 95 of his album alongside the realistic illustrations of Fraulein de Naumann.

As for this drawing's comparably mystifying caption, what are the 'squirrel teeth' referred to in it when describing the moth, and what is the yellow foam seemingly regurgitated by the moth? The caterpillar of the deathshead hawk moth has sizeable mandibles that it will click together and even use to bite aggressors, so these could conceivably be likened to squirrel teeth; but the adult moth only has a slender nectar-imbibing proboscis. Might the phrase instead be a somewhat peculiar allusion to the moth's antennae? In fact, having viewed the following excellent close-up photograph of a deathshead hawk moth's face, the answer now seems clear to me. The 'squirrel teeth' are simply the two ridged, outer edges of the moth's proboscis, which do superficially resemble curved rodent teeth.

Face of a deathshead hawk moth, showing its ridge-edged proboscis (© owner presently unknown to me - reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use educational basis only)

It is well known that the caterpillars of hawk moths will regurgitate the sticky (and sometimes toxic) content of their foregut if attacked; but because the mouthparts of caterpillars are very different from those of adult moths, could the latter accomplish such behaviour? Nevertheless, I do recall reading somewhere that certain adult moths will indeed perform this activity as a defence mechanism if need be, so perhaps the deathshead hawk moth is one such species.

Then again, if the drawing itself was intended only as a joke, a spoof, not as a realistic depiction of anything that may truly have appeared near Kalisz in 1749 (and in view of the moth's grinning moustachioed face, this seems ever more likely the more I reflect upon it), maybe the caption was composed in an equally tongue-in-cheek manner and should therefore be taken no more seriously than the drawing.

Equally mystifying is why the insect in the drawing was referred to as a locust, given that it looked nothing like one and was indisputably inspired by a deathshead hawk moth. However, the implication from the drawing's caption is that in 1749 a sizeable number of such insects appeared near Kalisz, and other Polish accounts concerning this incident that I have read online support that implication. Hence it seems plausible that the term 'locust' was being applied not literally but figuratively, an allusion to the large numbers of this insect that had appeared near the city that year.

A 19th-Century illustration of locusts (public domain)

Even so, this is still odd, because although I have read occasional accounts of veritable swarms of certain hawk moth species occurring in various localities down through the ages, I haven't read anything comparable relating specifically to the deathshead hawk moth. Having said that: in my ShukerNature article on this species (click here), I do refer to a singular incident in which approximately 300 specimens were attracted to a single beehive within a short period of time. The reason for this was that the deathshead has a great liking for honey, so much so in fact that some researchers have even suggested that its uncanny squeaking ability may actually be an attempt to impersonate the specific sound that a queen bee produces to keep her workers passive, and thence allow the moth to enter the hive and consume its honey without being attacked by the hive's worker bees. Consequently, in exceptional circumstances large numbers of deathsheads may indeed occur. So although I haven't been able as yet to trace any corroboration that is independent of the moth drawing, perhaps one such occurrence took place near Kalisz, Poland, during 1749.

Clearly there is still much to uncover regarding this fascinating case, but what I have provided here so far would already appear to be the most detailed account of it ever presented in English. So, now that its curious story is readily accessible to a much greater audience than before, perhaps additional details will be forthcoming from readers, to plug the gaps remaining in its history. Consequently, as I noted earlier here, I consider this article and investigation of mine to be a work in progress, so I would be extremely grateful to receive any supplementary information relating to it. And as is always true with my researches, all such submissions will be fully credited by me if utilised in updates to this article.

Incidentally, there is actually a Facebook page, in Polish, devoted to the humanoid moth drawing from Jauch's album – entitled 'Szarańcza z Kalisza', it contains various relevant posts and comments, plus a delightful animated GIF of this drawing, created by Mieszko Saktura. Click here to visit and Like its page (I have).

Polish postage stamp depicting the deathshead hawk moth (public domain)

And finally: for another ShukerNature blog article concerning an equally bizarre illustration of an alleged locust that clearly was nothing of the kind, be sure to click here and read all about the extraordinary locust dragon of Nicolaes de Bruyn from 1594.

The original, truly bizarre 1594 illustration by Nicolaes de Bruyn of an apparent locust dragon (public domain)




Monday, 4 July 2016

LINNAEUS'S HELLISH FURY WORM - THE HISTORY (AND MYSTERY) OF A NON-EXISTENT MICRO-ASSASSIN



'Swamp Critter' (© Andrew Scott)


Certainly, had Dr Clarke been stung by the furia infernalis at the moment that he expressed his disbelief of its existence, one would be almost tempted to think that the worm possessed, along with its other infernal attributes, that of knowledge, and had punished the Doctor for his scepticism.

   Henry D. Inglis - A Personal Narrative of a Journey Through Norway, Part of Sweden, and the Islands and States of Denmark


Can a tiny creature that doesn't even exist inflict agonising pain and even death upon its human victims? Ordinarily, I would say no - but the history (and mystery) of the virtually forgotten yet decidedly bizarre micro-assassin documented here is anything but ordinary.

Carl von Linné (1707-1778), or Carolus Linnaeus, the Latinised version of his name by which he became known throughout the scientific world, was the Swedish botanist who famously devised the Linnaean nomenclatural system of classification by which all species of organism are given a formal binomial name, and are categorised in an ascending series of taxonomic echelons, from species, genera, and families, up through orders, classes, phyla (though this particular echelon was not among his originals), and kingdoms. However, a bizarre incident that occurred one day early in his career almost brought it, and, indeed, his entire life, to a premature end, and resulted in his making a rare but significant error.

Portrait of Linnaeus, painted by Alexander Roslin, 1775 (public domain)

In 1728, while still a student, an impoverished Linnaeus was lodging at the home of the eminent Swedish scientist Kilian Stobaeus, professor of physics and botany at the University of Lund, but he was keen to amass his own herbal, so he spent much time out in this region's marshes, collecting and classifying botanical specimens. On the fateful day in question, Linnaeus was visiting an area just outside Lund in search of more specimens when suddenly he felt something sting his neck.

Rather than assuming the unseen culprit to be some type of insect, however, Linnaeus later deemed it to be a tiny slender worm, because he had been made aware of such a creature from local rural lore. Although it did not appear to have a specific name, this worm was said to be carried on the wind from overhanging vegetation, was extremely venomous, and was armed with a spike at one end that injected the venom, after which the worm swiftly burrowed deep within its victim's flesh, the combined effects of its venom and its burrowing activity resulting not only in agonising pain but actual death if not treated rapidly.

And sure enough, within a very short space of time Linnaeus's neck and also one arm had become so greatly inflamed, with the supposed worm apparently buried too deeply in his flesh for him to extricate it, that by the time he had managed to make his way back home his very life had become severely endangered. Happily, however, the swiftly-administered expertise of Stobaeus and a physician called Dr Schnell – who incised Linnaeus's arm from armpit to elbow - proved sufficient to quell the worm's dire effects, and Linnaeus recovered.

Systema Naturae, 10th edition, 1758, title page (public domain)

Nevertheless, the experience had such a profound effect upon him that when he published in two volumes (in 1758 and 1759 respectively) the tenth, ground-breaking edition of his taxonomic magnum opus, Systema Naturae, Linnaeus included a formal description and exceedingly apt binomial name for his diminutive but deadly vermiform assailant and would-be assassin. He dubbed it Furia infernalis, the hellish fury worm, after the Furies.

Also known as the Erinyes, these were a terrifying trio of ancient, Underworld goddesses from Greek mythology that meted out merciless vengeance, relentless punishment, and inescapable retribution to sinners on Earth until they finally died in torment. The best-known story featuring the Furies is their persecution of Orestes (a dramatic scene captured by several artists down through the centuries), after he had killed his mother Clytemnestra following his shocking discovery that she had murdered his father Agamemnon, the king of Mycenae and leader of the combined Greek forces during the Trojan War, after he had returned home to Greece following the end of the war.

'Orestes Pursued by the Furies', painted by Carl Rahl, c.1852 (public domain)

Included within the Vermes (Worms) section of his work, Linnaeus's description in Latin of Furia infernalis reads in English as follows:

Body thread-like, of equal thickness throughout. On both sides of its body it has a single row of closely-pressed recurved stings.

Habitat: northern marshes of Bothnia and Sweden. Worst of all: falling from the sky onto the bodies of animals, it quickly penetrates, killing with atrocious pain within a quarter of an hour.

Linnaeus's original Latin description of Furia infernalis in Systema Naturae, 10th edition, 1758 (public domain)

Bearing in mind that he had not actually seen the worm that attacked him, however, how could Linnaeus provide such a precise if concise morphological description of it? In fact, he based his account on two entirely separate sources. One of these (referenced by him in his account) was a then-unpublished paper on the fury worm, again written in Latin, but authored this time by a former pupil, naturalist Dr Daniel C. Solander, which utilised testimony from various local victims of supposed fury worm attacks as well as traditional rural lore concerning it.

Solander had originally submitted his paper to Acta Upsaliensia (the transactions of the Royal Society of Sciences at Uppsala Academy) during the 1750s, but due to a break in the publishing of this journal that lasted from 1751 to 1772 it did not appear in print until 1773, within the inaugural volume of the rebooted Nova Acta Regiae Societatis Scientiarum Upsaliensis.

Portrait of Dr Daniel C. Solander (public domain)

Linnaeus's second source of information was a local peasant. This was the person who had told him that the cause of his injury had been a specific type of worm, one that is carried on the wind and penetrates the flesh of anything that it lands upon. Moreover, this same peasant subsequently brought to him a dead specimen of a tiny vermiform creature that he claimed was one such worm. However, the specimen was so dried and desiccated that its taxonomic identity is unlikely to have been readily discerned, and it does not appear to have been retained, so no modern-day reappraisal of it is possible.

The respective publications of Linnaeus and Solander attracted appreciable interest in the scientific world, especially in view of Linnaeus's eminent standing by then and his direct experience with this small but potentially lethal creature. As a result, a wide range of additional publications featuring it began to appear, some of which provided interesting local information as well as additional accounts from persons claiming to have been victims of its formidable actions – as now presented here in what is the most comprehensive documentation of the fury worm ever compiled.

Portrait of Dr Edward D. Clarke, a coloured stipple engraving by E. Scriven after J. Opie, 1825 (public domain)

The fury worm was supposedly native to northern Sweden, Lapland and Bothnia (both of these regions being shared between Sweden and Finland), and Russia. One of the most remarkable cases supposedly involving this creature featured the famous English traveller-naturalist Dr Edward D. Clarke, due to the extraordinary coincidence that formed part of it, as recorded by Clarke in his multi-volume opus Travels in Various Countries in Europe, Asia and Africa (1810-1819). Journeying towards the Swedish town of Sundswall in late June 1799:

A remarkable circumstance happened to the author, just before his arrival at this place [Sundswall], upon the first of July. He had been reading the life of Linnaeus, in the open travelling waggon, as he proceeded on the route; and was giving an ac­count to his companion of the marvellous manner in which that celebrated naturalist had nearly lost his life, in consequence of being wounded by a worm, said to have fallen from the air — Furia infernalis; expressing, at the same time, his incredulity, as to the existence of such an animal, and, of course, his disbelief of the fact. At this moment, he was himself attacked in the same extraordinary manner, and perhaps by the same creature. A sharp pain, preceded by slight irritation, took place in his left wrist. It was confined, at first, to a small dark point, hardly visible; and which he supposed to proceed from the sting of a gnat. Presently, it became so severe, that the whole of the left arm was affected, quite to the shoulder, which, as well as the joints of the elbow and fingers, became benumbed. The consequence might have been more serious, if he had not resorted to a mode of cure pointed out by the inhabitants; namely, a poultice of curd; to which he added the well-known Goulard lotion, prepared from the acetite of lead.

(Cheese or curd poultices are traditionally claimed to reduce inflammation - but although this has not been scientifically confirmed, modern-day athletes have been known to resort to using them in the treatment of such conditions.)

Reindeer, a sizeable herd of which was supposedly killed by Furia in 1823 (public domain)

Nor were humans the only victims of the injurious if invisible fury worm. In a paper surveying this mystifying mini-beast, published by the Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal in 1827, Arthur de Capell Brooke claimed:

It appears, that the Furia does not confine its attacks to the human race, but that cattle, and the rein-deer in particular, are exposed to it. In 1823, the Laplanders are stated to have suf­fered so greatly in their herds, that 5000 head died from the sling of this creature; and that even the wolves and other animals, that preyed upon the dead carcases, caught the infection, and died with the same symptoms. A Laplander, who posses­sed 500 deer, on perceiving the destruction among them, thought it best to kill the whole herd; but so quickly did its ravages spread, that, before he could accomplish his purpose, they all died. Great numbers of cattle and sheep were likewise destroy­ed by its attacks, and it fell, in some degree, upon the human species, a few having become victims to it. A young girl, who was shearing some sheep, that had died from the attack of the Furia, felt, while thus employed, a sudden pain in one of her fingers, which rapidly increased, and, on examining the part, she found a small puncture like the prick of a needle; her mas­ter, who was by, had the presence of mind to cut the finger off on the spot, and it was the means of saving her life.

The pest is stated to have been confined to Russian and Swe­dish Lapland, and did not spread higher than Muonioniska. Norwegian Lapland fortunately was not visited with this cala­mity; and, in order to prevent it from being introduced, all furs, during the year of its prevalence, were forbidden to be pur­chased*.

(*I have since ascertained, that, in consequence of the alarm excited by the reported ravages of the Furia, an edict was actually issued from the Amtmand [Ambassador] of Finmark [a county of Norway], prohibiting the introduction of all furs into the country during that year.)

Back in 1804, the Reverend William Bingley had included the following details in Vol. 3 of his Animal Biography:

Only one species [of Furia], the Furia infernalis, has been hitherto discovered. In Finland, Bothnia, and the northern provinces of Sweden, the people were often seized with an acute pain, confined to a mere point, in the face, or other exposed part of the body, which afterwards increased to a most excruciating degree, and sometimes, even within a few hours after its commencement, proved fatal. This disorder was more particularly observed in Finland, especially about marshy places, and always in autumn. At length it was discovered that the pain instantly succeeded something that dropped out of the air, and almost in a moment penetrated and bu­ried itself in the flesh. On more accurate attention, the Furia was detected as the cause. It is about half an inch in length, and of a carnation colour, often black at the apex. It creeps up the stalks of sedge-grass, and shrubs in the marshes, whence it is often carried off by the wind; and if the naked parts of the skin of any person happen to be directly in its course it immediately adheres, and buries itself within. The first sensation is said to be like that arising from the prick of a needle, this is succeeded by a violent itching of the part, soon after acute pain, a red spot and gangrene, at last an inflamma­tory fever, accompanied with swoonings. In the course of two days, at the farthest, death follows, unless the worm be extracted immediately, which is very difficult to be done. The Finlanders say, however, that a poultice of curds, or cheese, will al­lay the pain, and entice the animal out. Perhaps the most effectual method is carefully to dissect be­tween the muscles where it had entered, and thus extract it with the knife.

This is a particularly notable account inasmuch as it includes not only a very eyecatching body colouration (carnation) for the fury worm but also a size for it (half an inch) that if accurate should again be readily visible to the naked eye. Yet in spite of that, eyewitness descriptions of this creature were generally conspicuous only by their absence. Nor does there appear to be a single illustration of a fury worm dating back to the time when it was being reported. Clearly, something was very amiss here, and it would not be much longer before scientists began to realise this, and to reflect upon the Furia case in a new and more discerning manner, as will be seen.

Portrait of Prof. Peter S. Pallas by Tardier (public domain)

In 1800, an extensive account on the subject of Furia as originally written by no less an authority than the eminent German-born Russian zoologist and botanist Prof. Peter S. Pallas had been reprinted in the Philosophical Magazine, edited by Alexander Tilloch. The most important section of Pallas's account, also featuring some of the afore-mentioned Dr Solander's findings concerning the fury worm as given in his Latin paper, reads as follows:

According to his observations, the extensive fens in the northern part of Bothnia are the principal seat of this destructive insect, and the tu­mours it produces have been remarked chiefly by the inha­bitants of these districts or those who travel through them. In men, this disease generally attacks those parts of the body which are exposed to the air, such as the hands, arms, neck, etc. A prick like that of a needle is first felt, after which a black speck is seen in the place, and a violent itching ensues. This is soon after followed with extreme pain, a red spot is produced, and the neighbouring parts are inflamed. As the disease increases, the parts become more irritated and painful, and the patients are seized with an inflammatory fever, accompanied with fits of fainting and delirium, which, often carries them off in the course of a few days, and sometimes of a few hours. Some, however, get over this fever, but are affected in the injured part with malignant and te­dious sores, which often remain incurable during their whole lives.

Dr. Solander was himself an eye-witness of a case of this kind, and he mentions others which were related to him by persons worthy of credit. The greater part of them occurred in the spring and summer, though instances of this disease have been observed in winter. When the worm has pene­trated into the flesh, it is often impossible to save the patient even by cutting out the affected part; but it sometimes hap­pens that the small animal which is the cause of the evil may be extracted with a pair of pincers, or the teeth, if the proper means be employed immediately after the puncture is felt. When this is done by cutting, the patient, if the worm has penetrated to a great depth, is exposed to the most excruci­ating pain. Old women, who perform the operation of cut­ting the flesh or extracting the worm with a variety of superstitious practices, are accustomed to apply birch-tar to the wound, and then to bind it up. In one case, the worm was extracted by the accidental application of curdled milk or new cheese, and the patient cured in the course of six hours. This remedy was afterwards repeated with success. When the patient dies, the destructive insect, it is said, comes forth of its own accord from the mortified part.

But in whatever manner it may come forth, it has always the appearance of a very tender small worm, of the size of a hair, about half an inch in length, of a flesh or whitish yel­low colour, and often black at the extremities. On each side it is armed with a single row of uncommonly tender bristles standing backwards, which enable it to penetrate the flesh better; and in all probability these bristles occasion that acute pain which is felt, and prevent it from being extracted. No rings or indentations can be observed on it; and, except the bristles, it has a great resemblance to the hair-worm.

This is the singular animal which Linnaeus has admitted into his system under the very proper name of the Furia infernalis. It is however hardly possible to suppose, with this naturalist, that the above worm falls down from the atmosphere; for it will be difficult to explain by what power it can raise itself into the air. But the wonder will cease if we suppose that this worm may be borne aloft on bits of straw or the leaves of trees, and may then be conveyed by the winds till it at length falls down on the body of some animal.

In Pallas's account, the terms 'insect' and 'worm' were used interchangeably, so 'insect' was clearly being employed in a generic, non-entomological sense there.

However, the tide of scientific opinion would soon be turning away from a vermiform identity and toward some type of bona fide insect as the explanation for the malign yet mysterious Furia, and one much-publicised case that greatly promoted this change of heart was the following one. It appeared in a travelogue entitled A Personal Narrative of a Journey Through Norway, Part of Sweden, and the Islands and States of Denmark, first published in 1829 and whose author originally used the pen-name Derwent Conway. In a later edition, appearing in 1837, however, he reverted to his real name, Henry D. Inglis. After documenting Dr Edward D. Clarke's injury supposedly caused by Furia back in June 1799, Inglis presented a very pertinent observation of his own, made by him during his journey through Norway:

Sitting one day, along with a peasant who had been my guide to a trouting stream, upon a trunk of a tree, in some boggy ground, covered with coarse grass, and here and there a few cranberry bushes, I saw a very small fly of a gray colour, suddenly light upon the back of my companion's hand, and as suddenly fall off. Immediately after he lifted up his hand, complaining of acute pain; and there appeared a small blackish speck where I had seen the insect alight. He immediately said he was bitten by a worm, and made the utmost speed to reach a house where he might have a curd-poultice applied. The hand and arm swelled and were much inflamed, and the man cried out with the excessive pain. The moment I saw the hand, and heard the man complain of acute pain, and say he was stung by a worm, I called to mind the circumstance related of Dr Clarke; and from the subsequent symptoms, application, and cure, I could have little doubt that both were stung by the same creature. I am no naturalist; but I have thought it right to relate a fact that came within my own observation, the value of which I leave to be estimated by others. I would only add, that neither Dr Clarke, nor any one who has had a poultice applied for the purpose of extracting the worm, have said that they saw the worm when it was extracted.

There can be no doubt here that this classic fury worm scenario was actually elicited not by a worm at all but rather by an insect, seemingly one of the countless tiny blood-sucking ceratopogonids or biting midges belonging to the taxonomic order Diptera (housing the true flies, gnats, and mosquitoes) that infest the marshy lands of northern Scandinavia.

A one-sixteenth-inch-long (1.6-mm) female biting midge Culicoides sonorensis feeding on blood delivered through an artificial membrane developed for mass insect rearing (public domain)

Incidentally, one modern-day mention of Furia suggested a horse-fly as a possible identity. However, these particular insects have already been so familiar in their own right to farmers and other rural workers since the very earliest of times, due to their large, readily-visible, aggressive nature coupled with their adult females' only too well-known biting capability, that this seems exceedingly implausible.

Following on from the pronouncements of such notable authorities as German physiologist Prof. Johann F. Blumenbach and eminent Swedish worm specialist Prof. Karl A. Rudolphi (widely credited as being 'the Father of Helminthology'), who had previously – and publicly - professed serious doubt as to its reality, by the end of the 19th Century the fury worm had largely been dismissed by the scientific world as non-existent, as fabulous as the unicorn, cyclops, and minotaur.

This was due in no small way to the inescapable fact that despite its notoriety since Linnaeus's near-fatal encounter, not a single example of his much-dreaded vermiform assailant had ever been scientifically examined and verified. (It is nowadays acknowledged that the alleged specimen brought to him by the peasant had most likely been nothing more than an insect larva.) Indeed, even Linnaeus himself had eventually come to doubt that the creature responsible for his injury had been a worm, believing instead that the extreme severity of his affliction had clouded his judgement when attempting to classify the culprit. Moreover, despite generic claims appearing in several Furia documentations from the late 1700s to the mid-1800s concerning how the worm had sometimes been extracted from the flesh of its supposed victims, there never seemed to be any first-hand accounts of the worm itself from witnesses present at such events.

Also by the late 1800s, increased medical knowledge had led to widespread recognition that certain people (and individual animals) could exhibit hypersensitive responses or allergic reactions to insect bites and stings, not to mention septic wounds caused by bacteria or viruses, resulting in an array of highly alarming and sometimes life-threatening symptoms corresponding accurately with those described by Linnaeus and other supposed fury worm victims. Furthermore, they can be incited even by insects as tiny and inconspicuous as biting midges of the kind witnessed by Inglis (and which no doubt explained Linnaeus's attack too – midges abound in marshy terrain). In stark contrast, not even the most proficient medical practitioners had any concept of such phenomena back in Linnaeus's time. Consequently, they were much more susceptible to believing in the existence of a deadly worm fervently if falsely deemed real by local peasants steeped in centuries of imaginative, unfounded folklore and groundless superstition.

Interestingly, some authorities during the 20th Century suggested that certain victims with symptoms originally claimed to have been the work of the fury worm may actually have been suffering from a version of anthrax, a deadly disease caused by the bacterium Bacillus anthracis – as famously discovered by pioneering German microbiologist Dr Robert Koch in 1875. Anthrax occurs in four versions – inhalation, injection, intestinal, and cutaneous (skin), with the last-mentioned one being the version proposed by supporters of an anthrax explanation for fury worm symptoms. It occurs when endospores produced by the bacterium enter a victim's skin via skin abrasions.

Skin ulcer with black central spot, as caused by cutaneous anthrax (public domain)

In reality, however, this identity fails to provide a satisfactory solution to the fury worm riddle. For whereas cutaneous anthrax does indeed produce an ulcer with a black central dot recalling the black spot or speck that would appear shortly after a supposed sting and penetration by a fury worm, it is usually painless, in stark contrast to the excruciating pain suffered by victims of the alleged worm. In addition, cutaneous anthrax is rarely fatal if treated, because the infection is normally confined to the skin, whereas the effects of a supposed fury worm sting and penetration used to spread swiftly through a victim's body and cause severe, rapid swelling and inflammation – all of which is indicative of a hyper-allergenic reaction to an insect sting or bite.

I did consider the possibility that the culprit for the fury worm's nefarious crimes was conceivably a tick or a mite. Infected ticks of the genus Ixodes are vectors of Lyme disease (caused by Borrelia bacteria), but its most common initial symptom is a red rash that is neither itchy nor painful (unlike the acute inflammation attributed to Furia), and these small blood-sucking arachnids are ectoparasitic; they do not burrow inside their hosts' flesh like Furia did.

Male and female Ixodes ricinus, a vector of Lyme disease – this photograph shows the small male tick copulating with the much larger female tick (public domain)

Conversely, many mites are microscopic (explaining why Furia was never seen?) and, again like Furia, some certainly do burrow into the skin of their much larger hosts. The familiar skin ailments scabies and mange are caused by such creatures. In addition, dust mites can induce allergic diseases that include eczema, which can be quite severe in hypersensitive victims.

Also worth noting is that the larvae of trombiculid chigger mites, which feed upon humans skin flakes and in so doing are responsible for the red and notoriously itchy skin rash known as trombiculosis or chigger bite, make contact with their victims in a manner that is reminiscent of descriptions given in various Furia accounts already documented here - as shown via the following excerpt from Wikipedia's trombiculosis entry:

Chiggers are commonly found on the tip of blades of grasses to catch a host, so keeping grass short, and removing brush and wood debris where potential mite hosts may live, can limit their impact on an area. Sunlight that penetrates the grass will make the lawn drier and make it less favorable for chigger survival.

Chiggers seem to affect warm covered areas of the body more than drier areas. Thus, the bites are often clustered behind the knees, or beneath tight undergarments such as socks, underwear, or brassieres. Areas higher in the body (chest, back, waist-band, and under-arms) are affected more easily in small children than in adults, since children are shorter and are more likely than adults to come in contact with low-lying vegetation and dry grass where chiggers thrive.

Diagram of a larval chigger mite showing its jawparts (chelicerae) and its stylostome, i.e. the hardened tube of dead cells that the mite forms when feeding upon skin (public domain)

Ordinarily, therefore, I would suggest that perhaps a form of parasitic mite may have been responsible for at least some cases attributed to the fury worm. However, I am not aware of any that engender such uniquely devastating effects upon their hosts as those induced by Furia, especially as the latter reputedly achieved them via the action of just a single specimen, not even by several simultaneously. So unless Furia was a species of inordinately hostile parasitic mite that died out before its correct taxonomic identity could be scientifically revealed, which seems highly unlikely, a mite is surely a very remote explanation for it.

Equally, a single tiny worm blown by a wind current onto the skin of its human victim, then stinging and instantly burrowing deep within the victim's skin where it rapidly induces agonising pain and quite often death does not recall the lifestyle and modus operandi of any of the many different taxa of parasitic worm (which include tapeworms, thorny-headed worms, various flukes and nematodes, larval horsehair worms, tongue worms), despite their considerable variety of form and activity.

In any case, the extreme rapidity of the virulent and sometimes fatal activity claimed for Furia (Linnaeus himself alleged that it could kill a human in as little as 15 minutes) clashes with a fundamental tenet of parasite evolution and success, which is to keep its host alive and healthy for as long as possible while the parasite is benefiting from their association. After all, if the host dies prematurely, the parasite loses its nutrient supply, its home, and also in multi-host species the opportunity for the next stage in its life cycle to transfer to its next host. So how could Furia possibly benefit by killing its host so quickly – and indeed, what benefit did it gain by burrowing beneath its victim's flesh anyway? Remarkably, however, this basic question seems never even to have been posed in any of the many Furia documentations that I have read, let alone answered. To my mind, therefore, the fury worm as a parasite of any kind (let alone an actual worm) exhibiting the extreme behaviour ascribed to it makes no zoological sense at all.

As for the herds of reindeer supposedly killed in Lapland by Furia, conversely, modern science has revealed that a worm was indeed responsible for their deaths (such fatalities still occur today), but it wasn't the fury worm. Instead, these deer were and still are afflicted by neurocysticercosis – an infectious disease caused by the presence in their brains of larvae from the pork tapeworm Taenia solium, which can also affect humans. Here, the parasite does indeed kill its host, but not before the parasite's larvae have had time to mature, so that they are ready to enter their new host when it eats the meat of their present one.

Photograph of neurocysticercosis (public domain)

Quite frankly, the most reasonable, sensible explanation for the fury worm is that it was never anything more than simply a convenient composite scapegoat, a non-existent 'bogeyman worm' of strictly folkloric origin that rural Scandinavians would habitually blame for any unexpected bite, sting, abscess, or other skin-sited ailment whose origin they could not readily determine, whether that be a particular type of insect, or arachnid, or tapeworm, or bacterium, etc. This would explain the marked inconsistency of claims regarding the fury worm's supposed morphology, its sting's symptoms, and the speed of their lethality, because in reality they had not originated from a single inimical species at all, but instead from a whole range of them, yet wrongly combined with each other in rural tradition and superstition to yield an entirely fictitious composite, the fury worm.

In Pallas's lengthy account of the fury worm presented earlier here, he stated that it compared closely with a hair worm. Also known as horsehair worms or nematomorphs and of worldwide distribution, these come in many different species, and sizes - ranging from around 20 in to as lengthy as 6 ft, but no more than 0.12 in across (and sometimes as little as 0.04 in). Inhabiting ponds, streams, puddles, and even horse troughs (there are also some marine species, as well as some semi-terrestrial ones), the adults are free-living, whereas the larvae parasitise small arthropods. The most familiar horsehair worms belong to the genus Gordius, and in the Vermes section of his Systema Naturae (10th edition), Linnaeus placed Furia directly below his naming and description of Gordius, thus emphasising their supposed similarity as claimed by local testimony.

Providing a very relevant precedent and caveat here, however, is that these same rural Scandinavian peasants who believed in the fury worm and its dread stinging/flesh-burrowing activity also seriously believed that Gordius was venomous too, yet in reality it is entirely harmless. Equally, just as they were convinced that Furia dropped down upon its victims directly from the sky or was carried to them on the wind, they asserted that Gordius worms were actually hairs that had originally been shed from the manes of horses but which then had spontaneously come alive. In other words, there are good reasons indeed to treat their beliefs and claims regarding Furia with grave suspicion.

The common horsehair worm Gordius aquaticus (public domain)

The widespread fallacy in rural Sweden that Gordius was venomous was exposed scientifically as far back as the early 1820s by Prof. Anders Retzius, a Swedish anatomist with a particular interest in Furia, as described in 1827 by Arthur de Capell Brooke in his earlier-cited Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal paper:

…the Acade­my of Sciences at Stockholm, with an anxious desire to discover the truth, has promised, on several occasions, a considerable re­ward to whoever should lay before it a specimen of the animal in question [Furia infernalis]; none, however, have been presented to their notice, but what, upon examination, have been proved to be fictitious. With this information I have been favoured by Mr Retzius of Stockholm, son of the late distinguished naturalist [Prof. Anders Jahan Retzius]. This gentleman has informed me, that he has himself made frequent searches to no purpose on the borders of the Mäler, and other Swedish lakes, in the hopes of discovering this formidable being; and he adds, that, with regard to the Gordius aquaticus, or hair-worm, the bite of which has been supposed to be danger­ous, his own personal experience has convinced him, that it is perfectly harmless; for, during the space of ten years, when he resided at Carlberg, as physician of the military academy, he was daily accustomed to see the young cadets of the establish­ment bathing in places where these animals were to be seen in thousands, and yet no accident was ever the result.

Who knows, perhaps the Scandinavian peasants' mistaken yet longstanding supposition that horsehair worms were venomous may also have played an active role in their nurturing an even more imaginative belief, in an even more deadly but this time entirely fictitious version – which an erroneously-afflicted Linnaeus duly dubbed the fury worm. And thus was a fable made fact, until medical science finally swept it into the dustbin of discredited disease-mongers, alongside the tooth worm, the sweat louse, and other comparably noxious yet equally non-existent pathological ne'er-do-wells.

'The Remorse of Orestes', after killing Clytemnestra, surrounded and harassed by the Furies, painted by William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1862 (public domain)