TWO SEA MONSTERS FOR THE PRICE OF ONE!

 

Photograph #1 - Kent sea monster carcase 1976, with pseudo-plesiosaur portion above mini-globster portion (Juliet Lilienthal)

Sea monsters can be very deceiving, even when dead. For example, it is well known, especially in cryptozoological circles, that the decomposing carcase of a beached basking shark Cetorhinus maximus often transforms very dramatically, and deceptively, to yield what on first sight looks remarkably like a long-necked, four-flippered, slender-tailed, hairy plesiosaur-like creature. This is the so-called pseudo-plesiosaur effect, in which the jaw and sizeable gill apparatus fall away, revealing a lengthy portion of vertebral column that superficially resembles an elongate neck, coupled with the shark's dried-out pectoral and pelvic fins looking like flippers, its lower tail fin dropping off, and its skin's exposed collagenous connective fibres gaining the appearance of thick fur.

Similarly, when a sperm whale Physeter macrocephalus dies at sea and its carcase gradually rots, its heavy skull and skeleton eventually sink down to the ocean floor, but sometimes a very sizeable skin-sac of rotting blubber, surfaced externally with exposed connective tissue fibres, will remain afloat - encasing a thick matrix of collagen and often not only the substantial spermaceti organ too but also a few isolated ribs with fibrous flesh still attached. If subsequently washed ashore, becoming what is popularly dubbed a globster, this hairy, bulky gelatinous mass, with the ribs protruding like tentacles, is sometimes mistaken for the mortal remains of a gargantuan octopus – an extraordinary metamorphosis just as radical as the pseudo-plesiosaur effect, and one, therefore, that a few years ago I christened the quasi-octopus effect.

Obviously, however, as a pseudo-plesiosaur only arises with decomposing sharks whereas a quasi-octopus only arises with decomposing whales, there is no mechanism by which both of these artefacts - these charlatan sea monsters - could result from the same carcase. Or at least that is what I had always assumed – until the following case (not previously published online) was brought to my attention.

How a basking shark carcase decomposes into a pseudo-plesiosaur (Markus Bühler/Journal of Cryptozoology)

It was on 6 February 1996 that Roger C. Reeves from Brisbane in Queensland, Australia, wrote a short letter to me informing me of what he referred to as a mysterious rotting sea creature that had been seen – and photographed - lying on a beach in Kent, England, in 1976 by his secretary, Mrs Juliet Lilienthal, who lived there at that time. Mr Reeves kindly provided me with his secretary's current address, and after writing to her I received four excellent close-up photos of the carcase, three of which are reproduced here (the fourth was merely a paler duplicate of Photo #1).

With the photos (which she kindly permitted me to retain and use for my researches if I so chose), Mrs Lilienthal enclosed the following short letter:

"The enclosed photographs were taken in 1976 and I was wondering if the creature was a form of shark. It was washed up on the beach, it had a form of scales on the body and seemed like feathers on the neck – the head was only bone and gristle, the tail was long, similar to a crocodile with (which seemed) elephant hair at the base of the tail. It must have been damaged by a boat because the lungs were spread out on the beach (as seen in photo. It had flippers and feet, and was pregnant."

Combined with the above description, the photos depict a classic pseudo-plesiosaur, from the cartilaginous (gristle) skull or chondrocranium possessed by sharks, and the long neck created by the jaw and gill apparatus falling away, to the flippers, and the long crocodile-like tail, resulting from the breaking off during decomposition of the lower fin, leaving behind only the upper fin (into which a shark's backbone runs).

The scales were the rough, tooth-like dermal denticles borne in the skin of sharks, and the neck 'feathers' were strands of exposed connective tissue, as were the 'elephant hair' at the tail base. So far, so good.

Photograph #2 - Kent sea monster carcase 1976, with pseudo-plesiosaur portion on the left (head lowermost) and mini-globster on the right (Juliet Lilienthal)

As can be clearly seen in Photos #1 and #2, however, also present was what looked for all the world like a mini-globster, lying on the beach a little way apart from the rest of the carcase (i.e. the pseudo-plesiosaur portion), and possibly placed there specifically by one or more of the various interested onlookers (of which there were many, judging from the photos), but still physically linked to it by tissue. In her note, Mrs Lilienthal presumed that this peculiar object was the creature's lungs, but as the creature was a shark it obviously did not possess lungs, respiring via gills instead. So just what was the mini-globster?

As it was part of the shark carcase, it was evidently not a true globster, i.e. a quasi-octopus, composed of whale blubber and collagen. Instead, it was undoubtedly an organ of some kind, but in view of its very large size in relation to the main, pseudo-plesiosaur portion of the carcase it was no ordinary one.

Photograph #3 - Kent sea monster carcase 1976, showing close-up of pseudo-plesiosaur portion's body and the tissue section linking it to the mini-globster and containing the apparent gill arches (Juliet Lilienthal)

Looking at Photos 2# and 3#, the mini-globster appeared to be connected to the pseudo-plesiosaur portion via a series of white, bony-looking arches, which I assumed were the gill arches component of the gill apparatus. As for the mini-globster itself, the only organ in sharks that attains such a size is the liver. In some species, this massive bilobate, oil-storing mass can account for as much as 25 per cent of the shark's total body weight, and can occupy up to 90 per cent of the total space present within its body cavity! Moreover, with regard to the basking shark, the liver is so substantial that in a 2072-lb (940-kg) individual, it can yield as much as 549 gallons (2270 litres) of shark liver oil!

Keen to receive some independent opinions, however, I showed the photos to two colleagues who share my interest in 'sea monster' carcases. One was German cryptozoological researcher Markus Hemmler, with whom in September 2010 I had already successfully uncovered the identity of a uniquely perplexing sea monster – the enigmatic Trunko (click here, here, here, and here). The other was British palaeontologist Dr Darren Naish, who has surveyed a number of classic sea monster corpses online in his Tetrapod Zoology blog (click here); as, indeed, has Markus in his own Kryptozoologie-Online blog (click here). What were their views?

Markus agreed that the white arches were probably the gill arches, and he prepared a version of Photo #3 in which he ringed these in red (Photo #3a). As for the mini-globster itself, he wondered whether this may constitute some remains from the shark's pectoral girdle.

Photograph #3a - Photo #3 of Kent sea monster carcase 1976, with the apparent gill arches ringed in red by Markus Hemmler (Juliet Lilienthal/Markus Hemmler)

Conversely, noting that the mini-globster seemed to lack any vertical bars, which should still be present if it was part of the gill apparatus, and also that it looked much too solid in form to be the latter, Darren leaned towards it being the liver, confirming that the liver of sharks is indeed huge, extending for much of the body's length. Moreover, the texture of the mini-globster is somewhat liverish in appearance.

Although I wrote back to Mrs Lilienthal requesting any further information that she could offer me, particularly in relation to the precise location in Kent where the carcase had turned up, I didn't receive any further response from her, and I have no knowledge of whether any samples were taken from it for scientific analysis.

Even so, the photos (which are among the best that I have seen of a supposed sea monster carcase) and her written description are sufficiently informative for me to state with an unexpected degree of confidence when dealing with such notoriously ambiguous specimens as sea monster carcases that the Kent 'two for the price of one' carcase from 1976 was assuredly a highly decomposed shark, probably a basking shark in view of its large size (using the onlookers surrounding it as a scale), with the mini-globster most probably either a portion of its gill apparatus or (the identity I personally favour) the shark's liver.

If any ShukerNature readers happened to be among those onlookers who in 1976 viewed the Kent sea monster carcase documented here, and could provide additional information concerning it, I would love to receive your comments and information here!

I wish to offer my sincere thanks to Robert C. Reeves and Juliet Lilienthal for bringing this very noteworthy case to my attention via their letters and photographs, and to Markus Hemmler and Dr Darren Naish for their much-valued opinions concerning it.

A living, pre-pseudo-plesiosaur basking shark!

BEHOLD, TRUNKO!!

Photograph of Trunko's beached remains (copyright A.C. Jones)

One of the most bizarre cryptids ever reported was the huge white-furred trunked sea monster that was allegedly observed from the shores of Margate, South Africa, by several eyewitnesses one day during the early 1920s (the precise date differs between accounts - see below) as it battled two whales out to sea for several hours before its lifeless 47-ft-long carcase was later washed up onto the beach, where it lay for several days before the sea took it back out, never to be seen again. During those several days, however, not a single scientist bothered to venture forth to examine or even observe this extraordinary creature's remains. Nor had its remains ever been photographed...or so I had always assumed - until now!

Yesterday, German correspondent Markus Hemmler emailed me with some remarkable news. He had discovered a website containing an allegedly genuine photograph of Trunko - a monicker, incidentally, that I had somewhat lightheartedly given to Margate's mystery sea monster in my book The Unexplained (1996) but which, to my great surprise, has since become its accepted name. Moreover, the photograph had been snapped by none other than Mr A.C. Jones of Johannesburg - the correspondent and photographer for an article on this entity that had been published in the Rand Daily Mail and also in Wide World Magazine way back in July 1925, thus providing a promising air of authenticity to the image.

Consequently, for the very first time in any cryptozoological publication and utilising the Fair Dealing/Fair Use convention, I now have pleasure in presenting in the context of review and on an entirely non-commercial basis a photograph of the tantalising Trunko's beached remains, snapped by A.C. Jones (the photo's copyright owner), and currently included by the Margate Business Association's website in a page devoted to the creature's history, which can accessed at the following url:

http://www.margatebusiness.co.za/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=64:the-legend-of-trunco&catid=1:mba-news&Itemid=2

The appearance of Trunko's remains in this photograph reaffirms my opinion - first presented in my book Extraordinary Animals Revisited (CFZ Press: Bideford, 2007), and now reproduced below - that it was a globster, not a bona fide cryptid. Here is what I wrote about Trunko in my above-noted book:

In his mighty tome, In the Wake of the Sea-Serpents (1968), veteran cryptozoologist Dr Bernard Heuvelmans defined and delineated the truly protean ‘great sea serpent’ to yield no less than nine morphologically-discrete taxa of sea serpent, which included various currently-unrecognised species of pinniped, cetacean, fish, reptile, and possibly an amphibian. However, at least one marine mystery beast included in his book appeared so bizarre that even Heuvelmans – “the Father of Cryptozoology” - was at a loss as how best to categorise it, and so, after briefly describing it, he simply omitted it entirely from his great scheme of sea serpent classification.

Known officially as the Margate sea serpent or more colloquially, in recognition of one of its most distinctive characteristics, as Trunko, this truly anomalous animal made its debut on the morning of 1 November 1922 [also variously claimed in some sources to be 25 October 1924 or 2 November 1924]. That was when, according to subsequent local newspaper reports, South African farmer Hugh Ballance looked far out to sea from the beach at Margate, Natal, and saw an amazing spectacle. With the aid of glasses, he could perceive what seemed to be two whales fighting with a huge sea monster, resembling a gigantic polar bear on account of the fact that it appeared to sport a dense snow-white pelage. According to Ballance, who was joined by an ever-increasing crowd of observers as the formidable battle continued, the creature reared fully 20 ft out of the water and struck repeatedly at the whales with what Ballance assumed was its tail - but to no effect, because after 3 hours the whales moved away and their furry attacker floated lifelessly at the surface.

Later that evening its dead carcase was found washed ashore, and was seen to be of colossal size, roughly 5 ft high and measuring 47 ft in total length, which included a 10-ft tail at one end (said in some later reports to be lobster-like), and, incongruously, an elephantine trunk at the other – in place of a head! This extraordinary structure was approximately 5 ft long and 14 in across, and its tip resembled the snout of a pig. Even more noticeable, however, was its luxuriant covering of fur or hair, 8 inches long, and, at least in Ballance’s view, exactly like a polar bear’s, yet with no sign of blood anywhere, despite the ferocity of the earlier sea-battle.

Incredibly, however, despite the huge number of onlookers that it attracted (some of whom brought in a team of 32 oxen to move it seaward, which they failed to do on account of its immense weight), and despite the fact that its corpse remained beached for 10 days, becoming ever more odiferous as decomposition set in, no scientist came to observe or to take samples from it for study. On the evening of the tenth day, the tide took it back out to sea, and the chance to investigate one of the most astonishing zoological secrets of the sea was lost forever.

All that we can do today, therefore, is speculate on what Trunko might (or might not) have been (always assuming, of course, that it was not a newspaper hoax). Certainly, based upon its description taken at face value, this supremely strange ‘marine elephant’ does not correspond with any known species of animal alive today or known from fossil remains. But perhaps there is more to its description than initially meets the eye, harbouring cryptic clues that may shed light on this otherwise decidedly shadowy mystery – a mystery, moreover, that is generally passed over or totally ignored even in the majority of cryptozoological publications.

However, one detailed and highly intelligent assessment of Trunko that does exist is by cryptid chronicler Lance Bradshaw, and it can be accessed on his Kryptid’s Keep website (http://www.angelfire.com/sc2/Trunko/trunko.html). In his discussion, Lance raises several valid, important points worthy of consideration here. Take, for instance, Trunko’s unique pelage. It has already been noted in this chapter that dead sharks can acquire, via the pseudo-plesiosaur effect, a covering of ‘hair’, which in reality is nothing more than connective tissue fibres that become exposed during decomposition of the carcase. However, if Ballance’s testimony is to be believed, Trunko bore its snowy fur while it was still very much alive, battling the whales. If this is true, then clearly its fur cannot be explained away as exposed connective fibres. Moreover, it also suggests that Trunko was mammalian, albeit wholly unlike any mammal previously recorded by science.

Yet this is not the only mystery associated with its fur. As Lance has pointed out, exclusively marine mammals, such as cetaceans, are not furry, because this would hinder their mobility. Conversely, marine creatures such as pinnipeds and polar bears, which are furry, do not spend their entire lives in the water. Consequently, if Trunko’s fur were a genuine feature of its morphology, this suggests that it must venture ashore sometimes. Yet as it was apparently limbless, but stupendous in size, how could it accomplish such a feat without becoming fatally beached, probably suffocating under its own weight, as beached whales so often do, even species much smaller than Trunko?

Then there is the equally odd matter of its trunk and supposed headlessness? Unless the head were so small that it imperceptibly graded into the trunk, how can Trunko’s acephalous condition be explained? The most reasonable solution is that the trunk was actually a neck, from which the head had become detached following the creature’s death. Yet as with its fur, Trunko was seen to possess a trunk with no head at its distal end while still alive.

Or was it? Trunko’s anomalous features are anomalous primarily because they were exhibited by Trunko while still alive, not just when it was dead. But was Trunko ever truly seen alive? The great battle with the whales took place some distance out to sea, not at the shore. Could it be, therefore, as postulated by Lance, that Trunko was not alive at all – that what was actually being seen by Ballance and the other observers on the beach was two whales tossing an already-dead carcase back and forth, playing with it just like killer whales, for instance, which are known for frolicking boisterously with their food, often throwing seal victims up and out of the water? During such exuberant activity, Trunko’s head may have been ripped off and eaten or lost, and possibly some heavy chafing of its skin might conceivably have yielded a shredded surface of exposed connective tissue fibres.

Perhaps the carcase was that of a decomposed shark, with the pseudo-plesiosaur effect creating its neck-like trunk and fur. Alternatively, it may even have been a globster - a quasi-octopus complete with hairy surface and a false tentacle resembling a trunk, engendered from the remains of some long-dead ‘globsterised’ whale. This, incidentally, as Lance has noted, would also explain the otherwise-anomalous lack of blood present when the carcase was washed up. A recently-dead mammal that had battled two whales, in contrast, would have been covered in wounds pouring with blood, or at least stained with it. Instead, Trunko’s snowy pelage was apparently immaculate, with (to quote Mack the Knife!) never a trace of red.

Having said that, I am not wholly convinced that even the above-described activity could yield the exceptionally distinctive snow-white pelage described for Trunko both while at sea and while beached, but at least the enigma of this creature’s hitherto unclassifiable morphology is now beginning to look a little less impossible than before. Nevertheless, with no physical remains to examine, the only hope of ever resolving this longstanding cryptozoological case satisfactorily is for another Trunko specimen to turn up one day, and for it this time to be treated with the scientific interest and rigour that it deserves. Interestingly, the prospect of a second Trunko appearing may not be as remote as it may seem. In fact, it may already have happened.

As I noted in my book From Flying Toads To Snakes With Wings (1997), which also contains coverage of Trunko, in November 1936 the carcase of an elephant-headed, white-furred, long-tailed sea serpent measuring 24 ft in total length was discovered on Alaska’s desolate Glacier Island. This time, moreover, its remains were examined, by a team led by Chugach National Forest supervisor W.J. McDonald, but no news of their findings has ever been released, and, as with Trunko, the Glacier Island sea serpent’s remains were not retained.

How extraordinary if, just like the globsters have now been shown to be, an entity as outwardly astonishing as Trunko ultimately proved to be nothing more than the decomposition-distorted remains of a long-deceased whale. Yet until physical evidence can be procured, it is destined to remain just as controversial as they too once were. [Although this is still true, A.C. Jones's newly-revealed photo strongly suggests that Trunko was indeed a globster.]

As for the occurrence and identity of globsters: in recent times and for the vast majority of cases, the following explanation has been confirmed to be the correct one, and which in my Extraordinary Animals Revisited book I formally dubbed 'the quasi-octopus effect' (mindful of 'the pseudo-plesiosaur effect' responsible for converting decomposing shark carcases into deceptively plesiosaurian ones):

After a whale dies, its body can float for months, decomposing, until eventually its heavy backbone and skull dissociate from their encompassing skin-sac of rotting blubber, and sink to the sea bottom, leaving behind a thick gelatinous matrix of collagen - the tough protein found in skin and connective tissue. It is this mass of collagen, still encased in its skin-sac, that washes ashore, as a globster. Furthermore, if a few of the whale's ribs remain within the collagen matrix, and any 'fingers' of fibrous flesh are attached to them, these resemble tentacles. And if the whale is a sperm whale, the spermaceti organ gives the resulting globster a bulky shape reminiscent of an octopus. DNA tests that were performed on samples of the tissue from the huge Chilean globster washed ashore in June 2003 independently confirmed its sperm whale identity.

All of which explains how a rotting whale can metamorphose with ease into a giant octopus - and also, it would now seem, into a surreal South African sea monster that had hitherto baffled the cryptozoological world for generations.

My grateful thanks to Markus Hemmler (http://www.kryptozoologie-online.de/) for bringing this cryptozoologically-significant photograph to my attention.