English author Maurice Hewlett, in his 1913 novel Lore of Proserpine, called for a book that described the physical laws under which faery life lives. He even suggested a title for it, “The Natural History of the Preternatural,” donated to whoever felt up to the task of supplying what Hewlett felt to be lacking. This present book may not be a complete natural history of all of faery kind, but it offers readers a “field guide” to the faery beasts, describing their habitats and their habits.1
Definitions
What is a faery? What isn’t a faery? At the far boundary of supernatural beings, it can be very hard to make firm distinctions, and it is a difficulty that we humans have had for many hundreds of years. As I’ll describe later, whether a creature like a “boggart” is a faery or a ghost, for example, was a question never fully settled in Lancashire. In this book, I’ll be dealing with a spectrum of preternatural or spirit beings that fit less easily into the category of “faery.”
In the recent book Magical Folk, faeries are defined as “magical, living, resident humanoids.” 2 If we accept this, we would certainly incorporate in our list all the spirits that people would immediately imagine if they heard the word “faery.” Winged flower faeries, gnomes, brownies, elves—goblins even—would all be included.
What about mermaids though? They’re humanoid, definitely, but they are also part fish and live mostly in the sea, although they can survive perfectly well on land. Are they faeries in the narrow sense of the word? Probably they’re not, but they are amongst the host of creatures associated with the faery realm—sharing many of its features and magical properties—and which fascinate the many people who are attracted by faeries as well. We need a broader definition of the word “faery,” it would appear, and, fortunately, that is not far to seek. “Faery” derives ultimately from the Latin word fata, the name of the Fates. In medieval French, this became fée, meaning magical or enchanted. In turn, this produced fayerie, a state of enchantment, a word which itself evolved to denote a place and then the people living within it—our faeries. If we use faery and fae in that older, wider sense, it is very suitable for talking about the beasts I am going to discuss. They are not “faeries” but they are “faery”—enchanted or invested with glamour.
My purpose in this book, therefore, is to properly examine these “fae-beasts,” to understand how they live and how they interact with human beings. As the book progresses, the beings described get less and less humanlike in appearance and behaviour. Increasingly, their relationship to humans is not one of close similarity in conduct and looks, but rather one of alien, inscrutable threat.
A second key question may be: why faery beasts? Are mermaids or hobgoblins truly beast-like? Given the humanoid qualities of several of the supernatural beings that I propose to discuss in this book, this objection may seem like a fair one, but I think there are good reasons for differentiating “true” faeries from other magical beings. Everyone shares a standard image of a faery—a humanlike being, perhaps winged, perhaps with pointed ears, but essentially and recognisably similar to ourselves. This is not an inaccurate convention. Variations in height, skin tone, or the colour of eyes and hair don’t detract from their close resemblance to humans. In contrast, the faery beasts to be covered in this book all diverge more or less sharply from this. Merfolk are an obvious example: partly human, of course, but also part fish. The hobs and hags I shall describe, again, resemble people in many ways, but by their size, hairiness, or some even more unusual feature—such as a single eye or fangs—they are marked out as different. Towards the end of this book, there will be little doubt that we are discussing “beasts” in the proper sense of the word in the form of supernatural dogs, bulls, and horses. My choice of “faery beasts,” therefore, marks the fact that we will be concerned with classes of creatures materially distinct from ourselves and from the great family of beings (brownies, elves, and pixies) that we can label simply “faery.”
Scary Monsters
There can be a strong presumption nowadays that faeries are benign and friendly beings. Folklore indicates that this is very far from the truth. The faeries are, at the very least, reserved and secretive. At worst, they are positively dangerous for humans. In this book, I will examine the side of supernatural beings that we are less ready to acknowledge but still must respect.
The prevalent idea that all faeries are pretty and pleasant does Faery itself a disservice. It divests it of diversity and reduces it to a limited number of types—noble warrior elves and butterfly faeries, principally. There seems to be no space for monsters now. Traditional faery beliefs allowed for considerably more diversity—in fact, for a complex wealth of faery forms—and this book is, in part, my attempt to restore that variety.
Whilst the creatures and beings to be described have “faery” nature in the sense that they are mystical, magical, and sometimes inexplicable, they are in many ways unlike the more humanoid faeries that we tend to envisage when the word “faery” is used. Faeries have communities and a culture; there are lots of them, and they interact in many complex ways (emotionally and economically, for example) with each other and with humans. They are constantly in contact with our world, interested in our food, our possessions, and even in sexual relationships with us; there’s a lot to say about them. The faery beasts that are the subject of this book are far fewer in number to begin with, and they tend to relate to humans in a far simpler and far more predictable manner. In fact, to be brutally honest, the main mission of a lot of these beings is either to terrify us or to devour us. For that reason, a lot of our descriptions are going to be much shorter and less involved because there’s generally a lot less detail to examine and a lot less scope for interaction between our worlds.
Common Characteristics
Another reason for treating these beasts and beings as “faery” is the fact that they share so many traits and patterns of behaviour with the more conventional faery. For those readers acquainted with my other books on faeries, you may already be familiar with the preferences and habits which I’m now going to describe.3
Faeries are known from time to time to change their shape and their size; faery beasts do the same, but far more frequently—so regularly, in fact, that it is one of their distinguishing features. Faeries often only appear at night, and this is just as true (if not more so) for most of the creatures to be described in this book. The more humanoid mermaids are probably the main exception to this. Sometimes, too, the only way of seeing a supernatural being is to be blessed with the second sight—or to be in the company of a person who is, whom you may touch and so share their gift for as long as you are in contact. The same applies to some of the faery beasts: for instance, Geldeston in Norfolk was cursed by the presence of a bogle, variously called the “hateful thing,” the “hellhound” or “churchyard beast,” which would appear as a large dog and harass travellers and drag children along the road. One day, three people were walking along the road when one heard a dog padding along behind them. Her companions heard nothing, but they decided to speed up anyway. Accordingly, they linked arms—and then the older woman of the three was also able to hear and see the dog, which accompanied them a little further before disappearing into the churchyard wall.
Faeries are associated from time to time with locating or protecting buried treasure, and faery beasts quite often have a similar function. Just as faeries can object to the building or siting of certain churches, so, too, can the beasts—the best example of this being the buggane on the Isle of Man who objected to the building of St. Trinian’s Church on the slopes of Greeba Mountain. As a sign of its displeasure, the buggane destroyed the roof of the new building three times. Given the beasts’ predilection for mischief, and the trouble that they can cause if they feel that they are being ignored or thwarted, another very common practice is for people to make offerings of food and drink to them, just as happens with the brownies of Northern England and Lowland Scotland and other domestic faeries.
There is a persistent link between supernatural beings and the weather. Faeries may be able to cause bad weather or may appear only in certain conditions, and the same applies to faery beasts. They are often blamed for tempests—especially mermaids—or they may be able to foresee them and give warnings (if they’re so inclined).4
This is just an outline, and a few examples, of the common likes and dislikes of faery beasts, which make it clear that they are just as much a part of Faery as the faeries and elves with whom many readers may be more familiar. I’ll now focus on two shared traits which are of particular interest, but many more detailed illustrations of the issues just covered will follow throughout the book.
Faery Beasts & Water
There is a very close relationship between most of the faery beasts described in this book and water, whether that is still or flowing fresh water or the sea. Mermaids and sea-trows live in the ocean, of course, which is part of the reason why the book has been divided between sea and land beasts. Unfortunately, the situation is by no means as clear cut as this; most of the riverine and marine creatures are actually amphibian. The kelpies, water horses, and water bulls I shall describe all have their abode in water, but most of their activities involving humans are conducted on land—although victims will very likely be dragged off to the water to be devoured. Mermaids come onto the shore voluntarily to relax, but they can be forced to live on land permanently without it proving fatal. Turning to the “land” beasts that I shall catalogue, many of these are still closely linked to water in some way—for example, by haunting wells, springs, or watercourses.
What does this affinity mean? Part of it, I think, is a physical manifestation of what separates human beings from the otherworld. Whilst conventional faeries may use magic to disappear—whether or not that involves simply becoming invisible or switching to a different dimension—for the faery beasts, the boundary between us is tangible and real. They can disappear below the water surface where we can’t follow them. Travelling to faeryland is always risky and, in the case of the faery beasts, it can be directly perilous if Faery is an environment in which we cannot breathe. Another aspect of the faery beasts’ association with water is the link that exists with a force of nature and a source of life. The beasts are a controlling factor in our environment, often having influence over the weather and releasing water upon us from the sky as well, as I just noted. Water is vital to human beings—and yet it is also dangerous. This might, indeed, be a good summary of our interactions with the supernatural beings that fill the natural world around us.
Curiously, though, and just like faeries, many faery beasts are unable to cross flowing water. Of course, as I’ve already stated, several of these creatures live in water, but, even then, there may be some sort of antipathy: for example, a marine creature may not be able to tolerate fresh water. This anomalous situation is a puzzle, but its explanation may be that nature inherently puts limits upon all its elements. Curbs exist to restrain the unbounded power of all natural forces so that everything is held in balance.
Faeries and Death
As has already been suggested, and as I shall illustrate in detail later, there is a persistent link between death and the faery beasts. This is to be seen in the apparent preference of black dogs to lurk in and around graveyards, the belief that the “wild hunts” heard in the skies are often in pursuit of lost souls, or the fact that meetings with barguests and banshees are regularly preludes to misfortune or mortality. More particularly, as will be remarked repeatedly in this book, the faery beasts are quite often the bringers of death to unlucky humans.
It’s indisputable that, as well as the banshees, some faery beasts serve as harbingers of death. For example, a clergyman out walking near his home on the Isle of Man heard a bull bellowing. He knelt and prayed and soon a bull larger than any normal one passed him by, shaking the ground as it went. It disappeared towards a cottage and, when the priest went to the house, he found that the owner had died that very minute. In this case the supernatural bull, the tarroo ushtey, acts as a herald of death—or even its deliverer.5
Nonetheless, there is a very longstanding theory within the study of folklore that faeries may represent the souls of deceased ancestors and that faeryland is, as a consequence, the land of the dead in some form. It is indisputable that the conventional faeries have a close relationship to death, although the exact nature of that interaction is ambiguous and hard to define. For example, on the Isle of Man it was believed that a mock funeral procession, acted out by the faeries, would precede a death in the human community. Further, in 1847, it was reported in the local newspaper Mona’s Herald that after an islander had ploughed up some waste ground, the windows of his house had been broken by the fae because he had disturbed an old fairy graveyard. A very similar story comes from Benbecula in the Outer Hebrides. Against the advice and warnings of his neighbours, a man built a house on a spot where a body had been buried. A spirit called a bocan, similar to a poltergeist, entered the new house, throwing fuel for the fire around and hitting people’s feet with a stick. This went on for a year—despite an effort to lay the spirit—and then ceased. In Fife it was said that the faeries had pulled down a house in which a murder had been committed, and that they would not let the owner rebuild and nightly would demolish anything constructed during the day. Lastly, at Largs in Ayrshire, a man abducted by the faeries and taken to a revel reported that a headless man danced all night with them.6
Turning to the faery beasts that are the subject of this book, very many types of bogie, as well as daemon dogs and fae animals, are known to frequent, or to haunt, churchyards, graveyards, and other sites where bodies are interred or murders or suicides have occurred. What ties these padfoots, barguests, boggarts, horses, and hounds to these sites? Do they memorialise the deceased, marking where a body lies by their appearances, or are they the actual ghosts of the dead, albeit in nonhuman form?
The Scottish and Manx examples just cited certainly portray faery kind as being very protective of the dead, and this is perhaps a good way of conceiving the relationship of many faery beasts to death. Often, phantom dogs and similar creatures are seen at places not only where a body is concealed or a forgotten burial lies, but where a murder was committed, a suicide occurred, or where a person died whose body was never recovered—for example by drowning. The fae animals involved in such cases may not be the troubled souls of the deceased but might instead be understood as guardians or remembrances of those who died.
Even so, we must confront the question of the degree of difference (if any) that exists between some faery beasts and ghosts. The distinction is not always clear nor fixed. For example, boggarts are often associated with locations where murders or suicides are known to have taken place, or where burials have been discovered, but at the same time, the correlation is not necessarily direct. Two ancient skeletons may be exhumed, but there will only be one boggart haunting the spot; two orphans may have been murdered at an old house, but only one boggart haunts the ruined site where it stood. A difference definitely exists between the two supernatural forms, and I have therefore tried to exclude from my evidence experiences which involve beings that conform to our conventional idea of a ghost: a pale, transparent human figure resembling the dead person. For that reason, too, I have chosen to use the word “sprite” to denote a supernatural being in preference to “spirit,” which is too suggestive of souls of departed people and too potentially confusing.
Fellow faery writer Richard Sugg has wrestled with this same problem and, in his 2018 book, Fairies, he often draws a line between “real ghosts” and faeries.7 There are several shared characteristics, undoubtedly. Many faery beasts, just like ghosts, will frequent or haunt a specific location. Several types of faery beast can be banished, or “laid,” with a religious or magical ceremony, exactly as can be done with troublesome ghosts. At the same time, there seem to me to be clear differences as well. My own feeling is that whilst faery beings will have a personality and purpose that is their own, ghosts are different because they’re related to the life, appearance, and conduct of a deceased human. Ghost manifestations occur at a time and place that relates to the deceased’s former existence, whereas faery beasts have a mission unconnected with any individual human experience. The beasts may well be connected to a particular site, but this is for reasons different from those which oblige a ghost or ghoul to linger around a once familiar spot.
Remedies & Protections Against Faery Beasts
Faery beasts can be dangerous and deadly, but we are not without defences against them. Some of these derive from Christian religion, but many are far older.
For most of recorded history, faery creatures have coexisted with humans who have been members of the Christian church. Given the strength and pervasive nature of religious belief over centuries, it was inevitable that people would turn to the ritual and symbols of Christianity to provide them with measures against faery threats. As shall be described repeatedly throughout the book, holy words, pieces of scripture, and holy symbols have all been relied upon to repel and defeat supernatural dangers.
Even so, readers will also observe that other measures are regularly deployed as well: people will rely upon iron, salt, fire, the wood of the rowan tree, and “lucky” gestures to keep the faeries at bay. Even though these materials may well be arranged in a Christian fashion, usually by making the shape of a cross, the primary power resides in the substance itself. Faery beasts, just like faeries, have an aversion to a wide range of things. For example, they can both be held at bay or kept away from human homes and property using stale urine. Branches of rowan (or mountain ash) are also regarded as very effective. Why is not clear, but the fact that the tree’s berries are red may be the reason; in fact, anything that is red, such as pieces of cloth, can be protective, perhaps because they are the colour of blood. There are numerous Highland Scottish stories of glaistigs and other hags fended off with blades. One of their common tricks is to ask a man for a pinch of snuff, hoping that he will hold out his hand and thereby become vulnerable to being snatched away. Offering the snuff on the tip of a dagger will keep the fearsome female at arm’s length—although this may have to be sustained throughout a whole night!8
There is very obviously nothing inherently Christian about a burned coal or peat or a steel blade. These defences rely on a much older magic and on beliefs that long predate the arrival of Christianity. As I suggested in the section on water, within nature we will find protections and counterweights to the powers of the faery beasts. Water drawn from particular streams or from certain wells is another tested defence, confirming that there are natural powers that will prove to be efficacious against faery peril.
The faery beasts are not repelled by Christian ritual as such; they are not demonic forces from hell. Instead, whether it is a person praying and crossing themselves or drawing a circle on the ground with a knife, faery power is being tried against a different sort of magic. With the right skill and determination, a person can fend off the threats these beings can pose, whether they are a devout churchgoer or not.
A Note on Sources
This book draws on a wide range of British folklore sources, primarily from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. At this time, whilst many faery beliefs were still widely known within communities, enthusiastic amateurs went out and collected stories and accounts. Most of these collectors were men, and many were church ministers or school masters indulging a hobby, or university professors with a professional interest in folklore.
These folklorists saved for us many beliefs and tales that might otherwise have been forgotten, but we must still recognise that there may have been much that they chose not to record, or that they “tidied up” for public consumption. Stories that seemed too amoral or which, at least, didn’t offer a suitable moral lesson might well have been rejected. The Faery that has been preserved for us in these books and journals can be very white and very straight. I don’t think there’s any reason to assume that (for example) all mermaid love affairs had to be with fishermen, rather than fisherwives, nor should we too readily take for granted that all humanoid faeries were Caucasian.
Earlier centuries were just as accepting of diverse sexualities—you only have to read the Marquis de Sade or John Cleland’s Fanny Hill to discover that—but those same churchmen, teachers, and professors who collected the faery lore also made up the establishment that suppressed just that sort of material. Likewise, if we go back to Shakespeare’s time, we’d find a ready acceptance that faeries could well be of African or Asian origin (or that they might even have quite unhuman skin tones), but this diversity has been largely forgotten since.
In conclusion, then, I am working with the evidence preserved for me, and that data was collected within an almost exclusively Christian, heterosexual, and unmixed society. Don’t take it for granted that this is the whole story, though.
Plan of the Book
As I have already explained, the book is split broadly into two parts, dealing first with those supernatural beings that live in and close to water. These are the various types of merfolk, the “meremaids” of inland bodies of water, river sprites, a range of water monsters, and the fearsome water horses and bulls of Scotland, the best known of which is the kelpie.
The second part of the book examines the faery beasts that reside solely on land. These include the hags, banshees, and the hobgoblins, all of which are more or less humanlike in their appearance. Then I turn to the bogies, boggarts, and bogles, supernatural beings of astonishing variety in form and behaviour. Many of these can appear as dogs or cows, but I then turn to discuss those faery beasts that will only be encountered in four-legged form: the “daemon dogs” and the fae animals, a group which includes enchanted donkeys, cats, calves, and hares. I conclude the book with a chapter on wills of the wisp, a type of supernatural being that often lacks any recognisable shape or body at all.
1. Maurice Hewlett, “The Secret Commonwealth,” in Lore of Proserpine (New York: Charles Scribner, 1913), 62.
2. Simon Young and Ceri Houlbrook, eds., Magical Folk: British and Irish Fairies: 500 AD to the Present (London: Gibson Square, 2018), 12.
3. See my Faery (2020), especially chapter 2 section 4, and British Fairies (2017).
4. See my Faery (2020) chapter 6.
5. George Waldron, The History and Description of the Isle of Man: viz. Its Antiquity, History, Laws, Customs, Religion and Manners of Its Inhabitants […] (Douglas: Manx Society, 1731), 34.
6. Waldron, The History and Description, 38; Arthur W. Moore, The Folk-Lore of the Isle of Man Being an Account of Its Myths […] (London: D. Nutt, 1891), chapter III; John L. Campbell and Trevor H. Hall, Strange Things: The Story of Fr. Allan McDonald, Ada Goodrich-Freer and the Society for Psychical Research’s Enquiry into Highland Second Sight (Edinburgh: Birlinn Ltd., 2006), 261; County Folk-lore, vol. 7, 32; John Gregorson Campbell, Superstitions of the Highlands & Islands of Scotland: Collected Entirely from Oral Sources by John Gregorson Campbell (Glasgow: James MacLehose and Sons, 1900), 77.
7. Richard Sugg, Fairies: A Dangerous History (London: Reaktion Books, 2018), 14–5, 141–8, 150–3.
8. James MacDougall, Folk Tales and Fairy Lore in Gaelic and English: Collected from Oral Tradition by Rev. James MacDougall, ed. George Calder (Edinburgh: John Grant, 1910), 227, 243, 259.