In addition to my love of the natural world, I’m also interested in folklore, and I find that as the nights start drawing in over the autumn months, these old stories start to occupy my mind more and more. Folklore seems to be part of some collective winter hibernation dream. Of all the folklore creatures I’ve heard of, none has captured my imagination in quite the same way as Black Shuck.
Black Shuck is the East Anglian version of the otherworldly black dog – a mythological motif that appears throughout the world. Often described as a large, black dog with fiery red eyes (or sometimes just one glowing eye in the middle of his head), Shuck is said to haunt the remote country lanes, misty marshlands, and fens of this region.
I’m sure my fascination must have something to do with the symbolic association of black dogs with depression. Throughout my adult life I’ve grappled with this condition, and there have been times when it’s actually been comforting or helpful to imagine the abstract notion of depression as a black dog who follows me around. It’s easier to enter into a kind of dialogue or relationship with depression this way. Through viewing it symbolically, the revelation of new insights and wisdom becomes possible. That’s the power of storytelling, after all!
Furthermore, some years ago, I had my own strange encounter with a
very large stray dog on a misty country lane…. But more on that later!
Wild Hunt Origins
Black Shuck’s origins possibly trace back to the Wild Hunt – a legend found throughout northern European cultures. Though there are many variations involving various local Gods or mythological figures, at its core the frightful Wild Hunt involves a ghostly band of hunters on a chase, often on horseback and accompanied by a menacing pack of hunting hounds.
A 12th century
record of the hunt is found in the Anglo-Saxon Peterborough Chronicle. Writing
in 1127, after the arrival of an unpopular Abbot, the Chronicle scribe claims
that it was “general knowledge throughout the whole country that immediately
after his arrival… many men both saw and heard a great number of huntsmen
hunting. The huntsmen were black, huge, and hideous, and rode on black horses
and on black he-goats, and their hounds were jet black, with eyes like saucers,
and horrible.” [1]
A Vicious Rampage in 1577
Some centuries later, on the fateful Sunday of August 4th, 1577, a severe storm swept over the town of Bungay in Suffolk. It was during this tempest that the legend of Black Shuck became intertwined with the town’s history.
According to Reverend Abraham Fleming’s account of that day, as the storm raged on, a large black dog - "or the divel in such a likenesse" – burst into St. Mary’s Church and instantly killed two members of the congregation by wringing their necks [2]. After attacking a number of others, the monstrous hound then disappeared in a flash of lightning. Only, this was not the end of Shuck’s rampage.
Black Shuck then
reappeared twelve miles away, in the saltmarshes of Blythburgh, where he burst
through the doors of the Holy Trinity Church. His scorched claw marks can still
be seen to this day (apparently)!
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Modern Sightings
Shuck’s legend has evolved over the centuries. I found a couple of interesting references to Norfolk smugglers playing on local fears of Shuck and dressing as the beast to scare people away from their illicit activities [3]. His appearance is often said to foretell death or misfortune to those who encounter him. However, I’m also certain that I once read an account from the 1930’s or so, of a midwife who was out cycling alone late at night, and that she felt the presence of Black Shuck was protective. But I can’t for the life of me track down that reference again!
Despite folks becoming less superstitious in modern times, Shuck’s legend endures and has found renewed interest in recent years. For example, in 2022 an annual Black Shuck Festival was established in the Suffolk town of Bungay to commemorate the legend in early August [4]. I hope I can go to it sometime.
As for my own eerie experience… It was November 2015, and I was walking from Great Clacton to Thorpe-le-Soken early one morning, via cross-country footpaths. The air was chilled, and thick with morning mist. I didn't pass anyone on my journey. Then, all of a sudden, up ahead of me I saw an animal looming out of the grey, walking towards me. I immediately looked for an accompanying human, but none appeared. The animal was so unusually large, my first thought was that it couldn't be a dog, but rather that it might be one of those escaped big cats you sometimes hear about. Like a panther! I felt genuine fear and a rush of adrenaline as my mind started racing with ideas of what I should do if it was to attack me. Sounds a bit dramatic now, perhaps, but the creature's size really was a shock. And it’s unusual to see a dog out on its own, especially one that big. The animal was trotting along casually, seemingly oblivious to me, and after a few moments I realised the movement and gait wasn’t feline after all, but almost certainly canine. Before we reached each other on the path, my hands balled fearfully into fists, the dog turned off into an opening in the hedgerow. When I reached the opening, I cautiously peered into the field, but could see no sign of the dog. With a sigh of relief, I continued on my way, checking back over my shoulder a few times.
Did I see Black Shuck that misty morning? Probably not.... but who can say for sure! ;) I kind of like the thought that I might've caught sight of Shuck taking a morning stroll….
If you’re interested
in reading more Black Shuck sightings (and there are many!), check out
‘Shuckland’, the biggest database of East Anglian sightings put together by
Hidden East Anglia. There's also ‘Mapping the Grim’, a collection of nationwide
sightings, with a handy map search function.
[1] https://getd.libs.uga.edu/pdfs/hall_megan_j_200312_ma.pdf
[3] https://www.jstor.org/stable/1259761
[4]
https://blackshuckfestival.com/
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