Stökkull

Variations: Stokkull, Stöckull; Blödkuhvalur, Blökuhvalur, Blodkuhvalur (Flap-Whale); Bloejuhvalur (Veiled Whale); Springhvalur (Springing Whale); Stökkfiskar (Jumping Fish); Sprettfiskur (Sprinting Fish); Léttir (Agile One); Léttur (Light One); Dettir (Falling One); Hrosshvalur (Horse-Whale, probably erroneously)

The Stökkull is probably the most feared of the Icelandic illhveli, or “evil whales”. While not the largest or the most well-armed of whales, it is remarkably powerful for its size, and is easily capable of pile-driving ships into a watery grave. In fact, its name is used rather indiscriminately for a number of other monstrous whales with similar behavior; Jon Gudmundsson combined it with the hrosshvalur.

Stökkull means “jumper”, or “leaper”, and this is an apt description of this whale’s habits. A stökkull has a rounded body, black above and white below, and is about 8 to 20 meters long. It has a reinforced battering-ram snout and an underslung lower jaw full of sharp teeth. Most notably, it has blinder-like flaps of skin covering its eyes.

These fleshy flaps earn the stökkull its alternate name of blödkuhvalur (“flap whale”). They prevent the stökkull from seeing ahead of it, and so in order to see it has to leap out of the water and look underneath the flaps. Some accounts instead specify that the stökkull can see underwater and is blinded when it breaches, but this is less likely. It is said that the stökkull’s depredations were once even worse than they are today, until Saint Brendan implored the Lord to intervene. God responded by causing the flaps of skin to grow over the stökkull’s eyes, hindering its capacity to do evil.

Blinded or not, stökkulls are still formidable foes. They leap out of the water, breaching so high that the land and mountains can be seen below them, and cover a distance of four waves with every leap. When in pursuit of a ship, a stökkull can leap a mile in pursuit. It will sink anything it sees floating by jumping onto it nose-first, pulverizing boats and breaking the backs of large whales.

To avoid attracting the attention of a stökkull, it must not be referred to by name, otherwise it is likely to notice your presence. Any of a number of euphemisms must be used when talking about the jumper, and that is the reason for its profusion of names.

If a stökkull is sighted in the distance, it must be distracted before it smashes its way into the boat. The easiest way to do this is to throw a buoy or empty barrel overboard; the stökkull will exhaust itself trying to sink the object. Even a hat thrown overboard will distract a stökkull, as fishermen on Eyjafirth discovered. Another method is to make for the direction of the sun. If the stökkull tries to see where the boat is going, the sun’s glare will interfere. Finally, if all else fails, suitably strong firepower is advised. One stökkull was shot before it could leap, and that so startled it that it swam away at full speed, trailing blood behind it.

The legend of the stökkull probably dates back to tall tales of flying fishes. It may be inspired by sperm whales, Risso’s dolphins, and killer whales to various extents. Today stökkull is used in Iceland to refer to a number of harmless dolphins and porpoises.

References

Davidsson, O. (1900) The Folk-lore of Icelandic Fishes. The Scottish Review, October, pp. 312-332.

Hermansson, H. (1924) Jon Gudmundsson and his Natural History of Iceland. Islandica, Cornell University Library, Ithaca.

Hlidberg, J. B. and Aegisson, S.; McQueen, F. J. M. and Kjartansson, R., trans. (2011) Meeting with Monsters. JPV utgafa, Reykjavik.

Malebête

Variations: Malbête, Malebàete, Malebeste (archaic), Bête d’Angles (Beast of Angles), Troussepoil

Visitors to the French town of Angles, in the Vendée, are drawn to the beautiful church of Notre-Dame-des-Anges (Our Lady of the Angels). There, at the top of the bell tower, stands a monstrous stone bear glaring down on the city. Those visitors would be well advised to steer clear of its line of sight.

Long ago, it is said that a terrible beast ravaged the countryside of Angles. It was in the form of a great black bear, with shaggy, matted fur, and it became known as the Malebête – the “Evilbeast” or “Illbeast”. This monster had a predilection for young maidens, glutting itself almost exclusively on women. After feeding it would then wash itself in the nearby river, causing its hair to clump and stick out and granting the river the name of Troussepoil (“Hair-Raiser”, more or less).

The depredations of this demonic creature led to increasing concern. The river was running red with blood, and the female population was dwindling. None dared approach it, as its strength was greater than any knight’s. As it was an incarnation of the Devil himself, it became clear that only a sufficiently holy man would be capable of defeating it. The abbots of Fontaines and Talmont both went to face the beast, only to scurry away in terror when it charged them. The Pope’s envoy fasted for two days before confronting the Malebête, but barely escaped with his life and swore never to return.

Was there any man holy enough to destroy the Malebête? The answer came in the form of Father Martin, an old monk from the Angles cloister who spent most of his time isolated in contemplation of God. Perhaps out of desperation, he was begged to do something about this.

Leaning on a walking stick, dressed only in his ecclesiastical robes, Father Martin walked out to where the Malebête awaited him. To everyone’s amazement, the beast lowered its gaze in front of the hermit. “Follow me”, he said simply, and the Malebête did – as did the entire population of Angles. They followed Father Martin all the way back to the church, where he told the Malebête to climb the bell tower. Once at the top, it froze in place, and turned to stone.

Despite the rejoicing over the Malebête’s defeat, there were still a few voices of dissent in the form of a few girls who taunted Father Martin. “Since when are you the Devil’s shepherd?” they sneered. Father Martin merely smiled and looked up at the Malebête. “Henceforth, you shall feed only on the beauty of the girls of Angles”, he stated. And instantly all the women present became ugly and ran home in shame.

Since then, the resourceful women of Angles have found ways of avoiding the Malebête’s hungry gaze, and sneak safely into the church via a back door. Today the Malebête’s primary sustenance comes through the tourist industry.

This tale was first told by Benjamin Fillon, a dubious character who seems to have created the story out of whole cloth, making it a neo-myth of sorts. For one thing, the statue of the Malebête is of pre-Christian origin, predating its own legend; it was originally in a seated position, and was mutilated into its current shape. The Malebête’s story is also a familiar one, echoing many others told of anthropophagous monsters slain by righteous men.

References

Chaigne, L. (1942) La Vendée. F. Lanore, Paris.

Dillange, M. (1983) Eglises et Abbayes Romanes En Vendée. Jeanne Laffitte, Marseille.

Dubourg-Noves, P. (1996) Notre-Dame d’Angles. in Vendée. Congrès Archéologique de France, 151e Session. Musée des Monuments Francais, Paris.

Le Quellec, J. (1988) Le légendaire du Sud-Vendée: organisation spatio-mythique. Etuderies 3-4.

Trébucq, S. (1912) La chanson populaire et la vie rurale des Pyrénées à la Vendée. Feret et fils, Bordeaux.

Eintykára

Variations: Tapezu’á, Honey Man

The Eintykára stingless bees, as told by the Chamacoco of Paraguay, are those that produce the golden honey. This honey can induce mild hallucinogenic effects, due to the presence of an ergot fungus on the plants the bees visit. But even more remarkable is their ability to swarm together and shapeshift into a man.

Eintykára hives have long, tubular wax entrances through which the bees enter and leave. An older single woman used to pass by such a hive every day, and its suggestive appearance made her mind wander. “Oh, what a beautiful eintykára hive!” she would say. “If only it were a handsome man who would make love to me…”

She continued to fantasize about the phallic hive, day in and day out. Eventually she started referring to it as her husband. “Ah, there is my husband again. He’s still there. If only he were a man, I would marry him on the spot”.

Finally, one night she was visited by a stranger. He was unlike any man she had seen – his skin was milky white, and his hair was as golden as honey. “Who are you?” she asked, stunned by his beauty. “I am Eintykára, the hive you desired and talked to for so long. I wish to take you as my wife, and support you and your people”.

And so it came to pass that the woman married Eintykára, and they had children together. He was unnaturally intelligent, and a diligent, tireless worker admired by the entire village. He never seemed to eat; instead, he would go into the forest, transform into a swarm of bees, and then reintegrate after collecting enough nectar. His “waste” was beeswax and eintykára honey, which he would distribute to all. That is why some of the Chamacoco are fair-skinned, for they are among his descendants.

Another eintykára was also known to have joined a Chamacoco village, but he and his adopted people were tragically killed in a raid by a neighboring tribe. They set fire to the houses, and though he tried to turn into an eintykára swarm and fly away, enough of his bees were incinerated to kill him.

References

Cañedo, J. A.; Belaieff, J.; Cordeu, E. J.; Frič, A. V.; Métraux, A.; and Pittini, R.; Wilbert, J. and Simoneau, K. eds. (1992) Folk Literature of the Chamacoco Indians. UCLA Latin American Center Publications, University of California, Los Angeles.

Bosch

Sometimes criminals face supernatural retribution for their crimes. In the Finistère region of Brittany, it is the victim that suffers instead. Crimes committed on board develop a life of their own and linger long after the guilty party has left the ship. Acts of greed summon evil spirits that populate the ship, bringing bad luck to the crew. In such cases humid straw must be burned to fumigate the ship. The demons can become small enough to hide in a thimble, so the smoke must reach every part of the ship. This must be performed before heading out to sea to avoid potential disaster.

In Audierne, committing a maritime theft actually guarantees good luck. The creature left behind is a Bosch, the physical manifestation of onboard theft. They have no clear appearance, and probably vary depending on the nature of the crime they embody. These wretched creatures come into existence after a theft occurs on a ship, and have a lifespan of a few months to a few years, at the end of which they weaken and disappear. During this time they hide in the bow of the ship and make life on board absolutely miserable. As long as a bosch is present, the nets will be empty, the wind will not blow, and bad luck will hound the crew.

Simply waiting for a bosch to die is therefore impractical. If a ship finds itself afflicted with a bosch, there are two ways to get rid of it. One is to steal an object from a “happy” ship, one whose crew is satisfied and whose catches are always plentiful. The ship should be moored near it, and during the following night the captain sneaks on board the other ship to steal some small object, usually a pair of oarlocks. The bosch will then go to other ship and become their problem.

If one does not wish to inflict the misery of a bosch on an innocent ship, the demon can be exorcised instead. The captain must steal a quantity of hay and hide it in the boat. At night he should set fire to the hay near the mizzenmast and yell “Devil on board!” The sailors, startled, will grab anything within reach and lash out randomly, beating every corner of the ship. Surrounded and beaten, faced with choking smoke and scorching flames, the terrified bosch dives into the sea.

References

van Hageland, A. (1973) La Mer Magique. Marabout, Paris.

Basilisk

Variations: Cockatrice, Basilisco, Basiliscos, Basiliscus, Basili-coc, Basilicok, Regulus (Small Prince), Codrille, Cocodrille, Cocadrille, Coquatrix, Harmena, Sibilus (Hisser), King of Serpents, Crested Crowing Cobra (potentially)

The Basilisk, the “little king” or “king of snakes”, is best known as a creature whose looks kill. Its primary claim to fame is a gaze that instantly kills anyone who sees it, or even anyone it looks at. The basilisk has appeared under a number of guises throughout the centuries, but there are at least a few constants. It is always deceptively small. It is a snake, or at least part snake, with or without rooster characteristics. It always has a crown – whether a white mark, a ring of hornlets, a rooster’s comb, or even a literal crown on its head. And finally, it is always extraordinarily virulent.

The basilisk is first and foremost a snake, born from the blood of Medusa as were all venomous snakes. It is found in the North African deserts – its very presence causes the desert, and it becomes frantic in the presence of water. At half a foot long, it is far from the biggest snake, but it is the king of snakes, traveling proudly with its head off the ground. It has a white spot or a crown on its head, and white markings down its back.

The exact nature of the basilisk’s deadliness is uncertain, as it is known to kill via venom, odor, and gaze. Murrus, one of Lucan’s soldiers, transfixed a basilisk with his spear, only to see the venom travel up his weapon and start corroding his hand. He survived by amputating his arm before the venom could reach his body. A basilisk can spit its venom skyward, frizzling up birds in flight. Its very gaze is deadly, as it can kill a man merely by looking at him with its gleaming red eyes. The regal nature of the basilisk and its propensity for projecting its venom suggest that cobras or spitting cobras were the origin of the legend.

Basilisks feared only three things: weasels, the crowing of roosters, and their own lethal gaze. The weasel was the only animal immune to the basilisk’s gaze and venom, making it the only natural predator of the king of snakes. Weasels were often sent into caves believed to harbor basilisks. This interaction also recalls that of the cobra and the mongoose. Basilisks also convulsed and died instantly upon hearing the crowing of a rooster. Travelers in the Libyan desert would be well advised to bring a rooster along with them. Topsell denied the possibility of basilisks perishing upon seeing each other, as “it is unpossible that any thing should hurt itself”; nonetheless, a basilisk in Vienna was killed by showing it a mirror.

With the passing of time the nature of the basilisk grew more and more confused. Various Biblical serpents were translated as basilisks. The basilisk gained more avian characteristics, including an origin in rooster eggs, and was confused with Cocodrillus (the crocodile); both of them were dangerous reptiles with small adversaries (the weasel for the basilisk, the hydrus for the crocodile). Further garbling of “cocodrillus” resulted in “cockatrice”. Wycliffe’s Bible had “cockatrice” as a translation of “basilisk”. Chaucer referred to the “basilicok”. With the accumulation of translation, grammar, and etymological errors, the basilisk (or cockatrice) became a hybrid of snake and rooster, with clawed wings, a rooster’s head, and a long serpentine tail (sometimes with an additional head at the end). This is the familiar cockatrice (or basilisk) of bestiaries, and an incarnation of the Devil himself. It further evolved into the alchemical cockatrice, holding its tail in its mouth, symbolizing the alchemical cycle and its mixed nature. The same nomenclatural confusion also gave rise to the Codrille, a basilisk from central France.

Despite efforts to separate the basilisk and the cockatrice – for example, making the basilisk a snake or lizard and the cockatrice a snake-rooster hybrid, or making them both snake-rooster hybrids, one with a snake head and the other with a rooster head – the fact remains that the names basilisk and cockatrice are interchangeable, and refer to the same animal. It is best to accept T. H. White’s statement that the cockatrice is “a medieval muddle” and leave it at that.

Cardano reported a basilisk found in the ruins of a demolished building in Milan. This particular specimen was wingless and featherless, with an egg-sized head that looked too large for its body. It had viper fangs, a bulky lizard-like body similar to that of the stellion, and only two stubby legs with catlike claws. The tail was as long as the body, with a swelling at its tip the size of the head. When standing up, it looked like a leathery, naked rooster.

Aldrovandi was apparently inspired by this animal for one of his images of the basilisk, helpfully giving it six more legs. Based on the description and appearance, it appears to have been inspired somewhat by scorpions. Ironically, while this eight-legged depiction has proven particularly enduring, Aldrovandi himself was apparently doubtful of its authenticity, placing this presumed African creature just before a couple rays preserved in the shape of basilisks. The true, snake-like basilisk is given a full-page spread. Aldrovandi also produces a couple of purported basilisk eggs.

Flaubert, taking considerable creative liberties, describes the basilisk as a huge violet snake with a three-lobed crest and two teeth, one on each jaw. It speaks to Saint Anthony, warning him that “I drink fire. I am fire – and I breathe it in from mists, pebbles, dead trees, animal fur, the surface of swamps. My temperature sustains volcanos; I bring out the gleam of gems and the color of metals.”

Finally, Hichens’ “crowing crested cobra” of sub-Saharan Africa appears to be some kind of basilisk. It resembles a cobra, but with a crest on its head and the call of a rooster.

The life cycle of the basilisk is involved and complicated. The Egyptians believed it to be born from the egg of the ibis, while Neckham blames chickens. Basilisks are born from round shell-less eggs laid by old roosters in the summer (on a dungheap, in some accounts). Those eggs have to be incubated by a snake, a toad, or the rooster itself, eventually producing little terrors ready to kill at birth. As roosters may develop concretions that resemble eggs, and hens may look like roosters, any such fowl that seemed to be a male chicken laying an egg was immediately put to death. In 1474, one such heretical chicken was burned at the stake in Basle, in front of a large crowd.

The only plant immune to the withering gaze of the basilisk is rue, which is consumed by weasels to protect themselves from their enemies. Remedies for basilisk envenomation will always contain rue. A dead basilisk will ward away spiders, and one such basilisk carcass in Diana’s temple kept swallows at bay.

Borges quotes Quevedo as giving the paradox of the basilisk: its existence cannot be proven, as anyone who sees it and survives is a liar, and anyone who sees it and dies will not tell the tale.

The basilisk of biology, or Jesus Christ Lizard (Basiliscus) is a completely harmless South American lizard, known for walking on water. The lethal powers of the basilisk were also transposed by European settlers onto rattlesnakes, and the Mexican West Coast rattlesnake still bears the name of Crotalus basiliscus.

References

Aelian, trans. Scholfield, A. F. (1959) On the Characteristics of Animals, vol. I. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Aldrovandi, U. (1640) Serpentum, et Draconum Historiae. Antonij Bernie, Bologna.

Barber, R. (1993) Bestiary. The Boydell Press, Woodbridge.

Borges, J. L.; trans. Hurley, A. (2005) The Book of Imaginary Beings. Viking.

Breiner, L. A. (1979) The Career of the Cockatrice. Isis, vol. 70, no. 1, pp. 30-47.

Breiner, L. A. (1979) Herbert’s Cockatrice. Modern Philology, vol. 77, no. 1, pp. 10-17.

Brown, T. (1658) Pseudodoxia Epidemica. Edward Dod, London.

Bulfinch, T. (1997) The Age of Fable. Macmillan, New York.

Cardano, G.; le Blanc, R. trans. (1556) Les Livres de Hierome Cardanus Médecin Milannois. Guillaume le Noir, Paris.

Evans, E. P. (1987) The Criminal Prosecution and Capital Punishment of Animals. Faber and Faber, London.

Flaubert, G. (1885) La Tentation de Saint Antoine. Quantin, Paris.

Hargreaves, J. (1983) The Dragon Hunter’s Handbook. Armada.

Hichens, W. (1937) African Mystery Beasts. Discovery (Dec): 369-373.

Isidore of Seville, trans. Barney, S. A.; Lewis, W. J.; Beach, J. A.; and Berghof, O. (2006) The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Lemnius, L. (1658) The Secret Miracles of Nature. Jo. Streater, London.

Liss, A. R. (1987) A Basilisk by Any Other Name… Teratology 35, pp. 277-279.

Lucan, trans. Rowe, N. (1720) Pharsalia. T. Johnson, London.

Pliny; Holland, P. trans. (1847) Pliny’s Natural History. George Barclay, Castle Street, Leicester Square.

de la Salle, L. (1875) Croyances et légendes du centre de la France, Tome Premier. Chaix et Cie., Paris.

Sax, B. (1994) The Basilisk and Rattlesnake, or a European Monster Comes to America. Society and Animals, vol. 2, no. 1.

Topsell, E. (1658) The History of Serpents. E. Cotes, London.

White, T. H. (1984) The Book of Beasts. Dover Publications, New York.

Múshveli

Variations: Mushveli, Mousewhale; Hafmús, Hafmus (“Sea-mouse”)

The chimaera, ratfish, or rabbitfish (Chimaera monstrosa) is a small and completely harmless deep-sea fish. Evidently its legendary counterpart the Múshveli, or “mousewhale”, is enormous and highly dangerous. As one of the illhveli (“evil whales”) of Iceland, it is inedible and delights in causing death and destruction.

Múshvelis are mostly mouth, ear, and tail. The gaping, deeply split mouth is large enough to swallow a rowboat in a single gulp, and the large, prominent ears stick out like sails while the animal swims. A long whiplike tail without a fin allows the múshveli to swim at terrifying speeds, so fast that the sea churns ahead of it. Instead of fins, there are two stumpy hoofed legs. These animals are over ten meters long, and light gray or brownish-black in color.

Múshvelis sink ships by ramming them or rearing up, placing their feet on the gunwales, and pushing down until the ship capsizes. If a múshveli is sighted, the best course of action is usually to make for shore as fast as possible, and once there make for higher ground. Unlike most other evil whales, múshvelis can clamber onto the beach with their stubby legs, but they are out of their element and give up quickly. One múshveli ran a boat aground and followed the sailors as far as it could. It easily shrugged off three bullets, and eventually returned to the sea with the next high tide.

Large boats are usually impregnable to múshvelis. In one account, two Icelandic fishermen on a small boat were alerted to the presence of a múshveli by the roar of the foaming sea. It was making right for their boat, and terror made them freeze up. Fortunately, the crew of a French fishing schooner saw their plight, and steered their boat into the múshveli’s path. The sea-mouse rammed the ship so hard that it listed to one side, but remained afloat. The múshveli continued to take its rage out on the French schooner while the fishermen were taken aboard to safety, and eventually the monstrous whale gave up and disappeared.

References

Davidsson, O. (1900) The Folk-lore of Icelandic Fishes. The Scottish Review, October, pp. 312-332.

Hlidberg, J. B. and Aegisson, S.; McQueen, F. J. M. and Kjartansson, R., trans. (2011) Meeting with Monsters. JPV utgafa, Reykjavik.

Llamhigyn y Dwr

Variations: Water Leaper, Water Spirit

Welsh fishermen, especially around Llyn Gwynan and Llyn Glas, have to contend with the attention of the troublesome Water Spirit, the Llamhigyn y Dwr or “Water Leaper”.

A llamhigyn y dwr looks like a large and monstrous toad, except with a long tail and wings instead of legs. It hides in lakes and other bodies of water, and is carnivorous by nature. Shepherds know not to let their sheep or dogs near the water’s edge, lest the llamhigyn y dwr pounce on them and drag them below.

Fish lost to anglers in those lakes are always the work of a llamhigyn y dwr. It will take the bait cleanly off hooks, or even pull fishermen into the lake. They are fast and powerful swimmers, and will run away with hook, line, rod, and angler. One fisherman’s grandfather told of hooking a llamhigyn y dwr, only for it to emit an ear-splitting shriek, and it would have pulled him off the boat had his friend not been with him.

These tales of the llamhigyn y dwr were told – with significantly more colorful language – by one Ifan Owen, a trustworthy angler by trade with no reason to exaggerate.

References

Jones, T. G. (1930) Welsh Folklore and Folk-custom. Methuen and Co., London.

Rhys, J. (1901) Celtic Folklore: Welsh and Manx, vol. I. Clarendon Press, Oxford.

Baxbakwalanuxsiwae

Variations: Baxbaxwalanuksiwe, Baxbakualanuxsi’wae, Baqbakualanusi’uae, Baqbakualanosi’uae, Baqbakualanuqsi’uae, Baqbakua’latle, Cannibal-at-the-North-End-of-the-World, He-Who-First-Ate-Man-at-the-Mouth-of-the-River, He-Who-First-Ate-Humans-on-the-Water, Ever-More-Perfect-Manifestation-of-the-Essence-of-Humanity, Man-Eater

Baxbakwalanuxsiwae is the greatest and most terrifying of beings in Kwakwaka’wakw folklore. His name is alternately translated as “Cannibal-at-the-North-End-of-the-World” and “He-Who-First-Ate-Man-at-the-Mouth-of-the-River”; “Ever-More-Perfect-Manifestation-of-the-Essence-of-Humanity” is a more sanitized and euphemistic version. “Man-Eater” succinctly describes him. He is the central figure of the enigmatic Hamatsa, or “Cannibal” ceremony.

The appearance of Baxbakwalanuxsiwae is horrifying. He is anthropomorphic or bearlike in appearance. His entire body is covered in gaping, snapping, bloody mouths, and his call is “hap, hap, hap” (“eat, eat, eat”). His house is covered in red cedar bark, with blood-red smoke pouring out of the chimney.

He is attended by a number of equally vile creatures. His wife Qominaga, wearing red and white cedar bark, and his slave Kinqalalala, bring him his human meals. Qoaxqoaxualanuxsiwae, the “Raven-at-the-North-End-of-the-World”, pecks out his victims’ eyes. Hoxhogwaxtewae, “Hoxhok-of-the-Sky”, a giant crane, cracks skulls with its very long beak and devours the brains. Gelogudzayae (“Crooked-Beak-of-the-Sky”) and Nenstalit (“Grizzly-Bear-of-the-Door”) stand guard. These monstrous bird-ogres are all an extension of Baxbakwalanuxsiwae himself; they are his eyes and ears, and nothing can hide from them.

A wise shaman once encountered Baxbakwalanuxsiwae while hunting in the mountains. He was captured by Qominaga, who shouted to Baxbakwalanuxsiwae “come and devour him!” The man managed to squirm out of Qominaga’s grip, losing all his hair in the process, and was chased by Baxbakwalanuxsiwae through forests and caves. Eventually he tricked Baxbakwalanuxsiwae, luring him into a pit trap. The ogre and his wife fell into the pit and were incinerated; the shaman blew into the ashes, and they became the bloodthirsty mosquitoes of the Earth.

The Hamatsa ceremony itself tells the tale of Baxbakwalanuxsiwae possessing the young initiate, making him go into a frenzy where he gnashes, bites, and shouts “hap, hap, hap”. He is then symbolically exorcised, tamed, and inducted into the society. Baxbakwalanuxsiwae and his attendants are represented with spectacular, ornately carved masks worn by the Hamatsa dancers.

References

Boas, F. (1897) The Social Organization and the Secret Societies of the Kwakiutl Indians. Government Printing Office, Washington.

Bouchard, R. and Kennedy, D.; Bertz, D. trans. (2002) Indian Myths and Legends from the North Pacific Coast of America. Talonbooks.

Hays, H. R. (1975) Children of the Raven: The Seven Indian Nations of the Northwest Coast. McGraw-Hill Book Company, New York.

McDowell, J. (1997) Hamatsa: The Enigma of Cannibalism on the Pacific Northwest Coast. Ronsdale Press.

Vatnagedda

Variations: Eiturgedda, Vatna-gedda, Loch Pike, Poisonous Pike

A number of Icelandic fishes are extremely toxic, but the Vatnagedda or “loch-pike” is probably the deadliest of all. Despite its name, it looks less like a pike and more like a small furry flounder, golden in color (although blue variants have been reported). They are also known as Eiturgedda, or “poisonous pike”.

The poison of the vatnagedda is found in its flesh and skin. Merely touching it is enough to cause death. The corrosive toxins can dissolve organic and inorganic matter alike, and eat through layers of clothing. Even ghosts are not immune to vatnagedda poison. The presence of a dead vatnagedda is enough to scare off any evil spirit, and vatnagedda fat will cure pain caused by ghosts and sorcery.

Vatnageddas live at the bottom of murky lakes. They hate light, which is said to kill them, and so are only seen at the surface before storms and in fog. To catch one, the hook must be baited with gold. Anglers must wear gloves made of human skin, or multiple layers of skate-skin; even then, handling the fish will result in rashes and inflammation.

The main problem after landing a vatnagedda is holding on to it, as its poison will eventually destroy any material around it. One specimen that had been wrapped in two horse-skins melted its way underground and vanished into the earth. Wrapping it in the caul of a child, followed by the caul of a calf, is the only known way to transport a vatnagedda.

Jon Arnason tells of a sorcerer who aided a farmer and his son. Some evil spirit was visiting their home, and its repeated hauntings were driving the young daughter to madness. The sorcerer, wearing human-skin gloves and armed with a hook baited with gold, captured a vatnagedda from Gedduvatn (Pike Lake). The dead fish was placed in a bottle, wrapped in multiple layers of sheepskins and leather, and loaded onto a pack-horse for the journey home. By the time the sorcerer returned, the horse had developed a hairless, sunken patch on its back where the vatnagedda had been, and it was debilitated for the rest of its life. The vatnagedda was buried under the threshold of the house, and the ghost never returned. The girl made a full recovery.

References

Davidsson, O. (1900) The Folk-lore of Icelandic Fishes. The Scottish Review, October, pp. 312-332.

Hlidberg, J. B. and Aegisson, S.; McQueen, F. J. M. and Kjartansson, R., trans. (2011) Meeting with Monsters. JPV utgafa, Reykjavik.

Alicanto

The Alicanto is a glowing nocturnal bird comparable to the Carbuncle, perhaps sharing the same folkloric origin. It is known to inhabit Chile, and has been reported from Atacama, San Bernardo, Santiago, Talagante, and Tarapacá.

Alicantos feed exclusively on metal ores, and take on the color of the metal they ingest – a gold-eating alicanto emits a golden light, while the silver-eating variety glows a cold metallic gray. The rare copper-eating alicanto is greenish, with large wings, a hooked beak, long legs, and sharp claws. Due to its phosphorescence, an alicanto does not cast a shadow. The eyes are bright and gleam silver.

These birds are flightless, but their wings are perfectly functional. They will often gorge themselves on metal, filling their crop so much that they cannot fly. At best they run fast with their wings held open; a full alicanto can barely drag itself along the ground.

Alicantos live around mines and hidden treasure, and nest in small caves. The female always lays two eggs, the shells of which are made of the metal she eats.

As an alicanto indicates the presence of precious metal, finding one can be highly lucrative. For that reason they are sought out by prospectors, engineers, miners, and unscrupulous looters hoping that the birds will lead them to rich veins. However, an alicanto is highly protective of its food sources, and if it knows it’s being followed, it will stop glowing and disappear into the darkness – or worse, lead its pursuers to a cliff.

References

Aguirre, S. M. (2003) Mitos de Chile. Random House, Editorial Sudamericana Chilena.

Cifuentes, J. V. (1947) Mitos y supersticiones (3rd Ed.). Editorial Nascimento, Santiago, Chile.