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  • Writer: Granny Bonnet
    Granny Bonnet

There is a legend in Norfolk about Black Shuck, a vicious dog as large as a calf that roams the countryside ready to attack. Should you be stalked by him and by luck manage to avoid his slavering jaws but in so doing catch a glance of his flaming, ember-like eyes, you are sure to die within the year anyway. Tough luck that!


As befits a hound of his size, his territory is wide and his most infamous deeds are recorded as happening on the same day over 400 years go. First at St Mary’s Church, Bungay on the edge of the Norfolk/Suffolk border and then at Blythburgh church a dozen or so miles away.

The story goes that in the summer of 1577, during a violent storm on the 4th August, an apparition of the devil disguised as a black dog raced through a fearful congregation already quailing under the effects of the violent weather beating upon the church. The Devil in the form of a dog (it is said), tore through the building, killed a man and child and caused the steeple to fall through the roof. The animal then raced off to Blythburgh church, killed more people and, branded the door with scorch marks known locally as 'the Devil's finger-prints' and which are still visible today.

Now, Granny, being a logical sort of person tried to put all this into perspective and with her 21st Century head, thought a good explanation might be lightening-strikes and thunderbolts in candle-lit churches redolent with fear of God and the Devil as taught in those far-off superstitious times. Even a large rabid dog or one driven mad with terror might possibly be capable of such attacks. The storm itself seems real enough as on that night, St. Mary's Church roof was indeed so badly damaged that full restoration only took place some two hundred years later.

Now we may dismiss these tales as lot of old hooey but often there is an element of truth in such matters and a recent archaeological discovery may (or may not) yet shed more light on the ghastly goings-on. Recently, the bones of a large animal were uncovered in the ruins of Leiston Abbey, Suffolk which lies less than seven miles from Blythburgh and were first discovered by archaeological group Dig Ventures in a project blazoned in the Daily Mail, 2014.

According to the report the dig revealed the skeleton of an extremely large male dog estimated to have weighed more than 14 stone, standing 7ft tall on its hind legs. The unmarked grave was less than 20 inches deep and pottery fragments found at the same level date from the time of Black Shuck’s alleged reign of terror.

We are told that radio carbon dating tests will give an exact age for the bones which will enable us to decide if the whole thing fits in with a medieval shaggy dog story or is in fact the skeleton of a rather large hunting dog used by a 16th century Abbot...

What do you think?

Granny Bonnet

Addendum: Oh dear, Granny has done further research and has found the newspaper report to be a teeny bit of an exaggeration... In setting the record straight, DigVenture's Projects Director Brendon Wilkins said on 28 October, 2014 - 'Far from being the final resting place of a bloodthirsty hell-hound, it was clear that our dog skeleton had been laid to rest with care and consideration... Armed with this historical background, combined with the biographical analysis of the dog’s skeleton, a picture emerges of a working dog that lived long into ‘retirement’.'


So folks, the truth is that this skeleton is not that of the terrible Black Shuck but just for a moment there it had me going...

This design available here: https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/112231425



Snap the Dragon - Norwich castle Museum, made in 1795

Dragons have always featured in the history of England and East Anglia. April 23rd is England's National Day and commemorates St George, who according to legend, was a Roman soldier who killed a dragon and saved a princess. He was also the patron saint of the City of Norwich which has two churches dedicated to him.

The powerful Guild of St George was the major body of civic government throughout the late medieval period up until 1731. In those times a pageant was held each year to celebrate the election of a new Mayor beginning with a mass in Norwich Cathedral, a public oration, official swearing in, gunfire salute and a procession in fine regalia. There was a Corporation dinner and Snap the dragon was paraded through the streets with an attendant Fool to add fun and laughter to the otherwise serious occasion.

Whifflers or sword-bearers dressed in scarlet satin breeches, white satin jerkins and a hats decorated with cockades of feathers and ribbons, cleared the processional way through the thronging crowds with the aid of Dick Fools, who wore the traditional colours of red and yellow painted on canvas coats, their cloth caps decorated with cats' tails and small tinkling bells.

Behind the splendidly attired Mayor rode the Sheriffs dressed in violet and Aldermen in scarlet gowns. Next came a standard-bearer carrying the Standard of England as the 'City Music played them along the streets'. The standard bearer for St. George's Company followed, while the Common Councillors brought up the rear.

Rather like a 'talking newspaper' of today, short speeches about the new Mayor in English as opposed to Latin were broadcast by 'speech boys' riding horse, richly dressed and carrying small decorated shields. All the while, Snap the dragon chased about grabbing hats or caps between its jaws in return for a ransom, while children teased it by calling out 'Snap, Snap, steal a boy's cap, give him a penny and he'll give it back.'

Snap himself was made of painted canvas stretched over a wooden frame with room for a man to stand inside. Sadly, after Guild influences began to wane, the splendours of the occasion also faded and Snap the dragon made his last public appearance in 1850 . Personally I think it's a great pity he no longer features prominently in the modern Mayor's parade which still takes place each July in the centre of Norwich.

From time to time he still ventures out though and he appeared along with many other dragons in Norwich's Dragon Festival of 2009 when our City's history of the mythical beasts was celebrated.

Norwich also has the magnificent Dragon Hall originally in the heart of the bustling merchant area down on the wharf-side of the River Wensum but that I think deserves an article all to itself...

t. George killing the dragon, ceiling boss from Norwich Cathedral.

Let There Be Dragons - credit ITV Anglia News

A Street Art Dragon on Red Lion Street by artist MalcaShotten




The Wreningham Witch by Granny Bonnet
The Wreningham Witch by Granny Bonnet

Who put the ‘Wren’ in Wreningham? The answer of course, is the witch.


There has been a village in Norfolk with the name of Wreningham since Domesday and it is now part of South Norfolk District Council. Over the course of centuries since its listing in 1086, its three original parishes of Little Wreningham, Great Wreningham and Nelonde, have become one and there, once upon a time, lived a witch.


Superstitious and suspicious villagers, worried by her presence, alerted a knight to her whereabouts but before he could murder her, she transformed into a tiny wren and flew away to safety. Whereupon the locals beat hedges and bushes to flush out the wrens. Any they found, they killed. Such was their enduring fear of the witch's return, that each year on the feast day of St. Stephen (Boxing Day, 26th December), the villagers would be on the defence. Ready and waiting, they tramped fields and hedgerows stoning or trapping any wrens caught.


There are countless variations on this tale across Great Britain and Europe in which the innocent wren is hunted on St. Stephen’s day. Christianity’s first martyr, Stephen, faced death-by-stoning in AD36 after his hiding place was allegedly given away by the tiny but vociferous bird. Oliver Cromwell's troops were apparently saved from the Irish when alerted by a wren. Cliona the seductress, who enticed young men into the ocean to drown, escaped the same death by transforming into a wren and flying away. And so it goes on, version after version…


The wren ‘ceremony’ follows the pattern of many similar ancient entertainments which can be simply described as ritual house-visiting. Groups of people, mostly men and boys, often masked or painted, wearing unusual outfits, (frequently dresses) or cloaked in straw, would go knocking from house to house. 'Wren Boys' as they were known, carried a live or stuffed effigy of the bird which was often burned. As well as offering music and song, they collected money which variously was offered to the church, charity or funded a party. (Sound familiar? Penny-for the Guy? Trick-or-treat at Halloween?) All forms of lusty local entertainment that helped liven up the dark and dreary days of winter.


Perhaps hostility to this harmless little bird was driven in the Middle Ages by religious zealots and clerics determined to exterminate vestiges of druidic reverence and practice. Medieval texts interpret the etymology of wren, as 'druid bird’ or 'king bird' with powers of wisdom and cunning.



Thankfully the legacy of the legend of Wreningham allows residents of today to enjoy less gruesome forms of cheer in their community hall's bar, aptly named The Witch and Wren, or eating out at the local restaurant, The Bird in Hand.



Hmm… I live close to Wreningham and regularly have scolding little wrens in my garden. They certainly pack a punch for such a tiny creature. I wonder, should I be wary that there's clearly more to them than meets the eye….?


 

The wren has always been a king, as its name in European languages indicates:

Latin: regulus [king]

French: roitelet [little king]

Welsh: dryw [king]

Teutonic: Koening Voegel, [king-bird]

Dutch: Konije [little king]


Other names include: Jinnie (wran), Jenny-wren

Manx (&S.D.Cr): Drein, Drean, Dreeain (from druai dryw, the Druid's bird)

Cf. Irish: Dreathan, Dreoilin

Se. Gaelic: Dreollan, Drethein



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