Bestiary |
Hermes
From the moment he was born, this son of Zeus and Maia, one of the Pleiades, began to prove that he was no ordinary illegitimate son of a high-ranking father. On his very first day of life, he accomplished so much that it would have been enough for someone else to last much longer.
In the morning, he escaped from his cradle; at noon, he invented the lyre; and no sooner had he learned to play it than he set out on a raid, stole fifty cows from Apollo’s herd, hid them in a cave, and, relying on his alibi as a newborn, calmly returned to his crib. This did not fool the sun god, however, even though the baby tried to lie his way out of it. The little thief thus found himself at his first trial, before the supreme god; but Zeus, usually extremely proud of his offspring, was more pleased than alarmed by his youngest son’s exploits. A reconciliation with his older brother was reached by exchanging the stolen cattle for a lyre, and Hermes was able to begin his years of study, which—on Apollo’s advice—he spent on Mount Parnassus learning divination. For some time afterward, he roamed Arcadia, tending flocks and making inventions—including not only the shepherd’s pipe but also the flint striker, writing, numerals, and a system of measurement—before deciding to join his father on Mount Olympus. There, a high position awaited him; his father chose him as his messenger, and so Hermes added the role of guide for souls to the underworld to his functions as the god of merchants, thieves, swindlers, travelers, and inventors. Unlike his fellow messenger Iris, he also executed Zeus's commands.
As with other Greek gods, detailed information about Hermes’ descendants has been preserved. Although he had no official wife, he fathered quite a number of children—both gods and mortals—with several lovers. Among the best known are Hermaphroditus, the notorious thief Autolycus, and (according to some sources) Pan, Silenus, and the Satyrs.
In ancient Greece, he was one of the most frequently depicted gods; his head adorned square pillars erected at crossroads. Before they began to serve as signposts and divine guardians of travelers, these were phallic symbols of fertility, which is why Hermes is sometimes referred to as the father of Eros. Athletes revered him for his speed, and physicians for his knowledge of medicinal herbs; thus, the image of the messenger of the gods also appeared in their establishments.
His Roman counterpart was Mercury, son of the sky god Caelus; on the Apennine Peninsula, he relinquished his patronage of thieves and swindlers—who sought the aid of the goddess Laverna for these purposes—but retained his patronage of merchants (the name Mercury comes from the Latin *merx*, meaning “wage,” or *mercor*, meaning “to trade”), and his feast day was celebrated on May 15 at the Caelian Spring, which was dedicated to him; on that day, merchants would wash their goods and themselves with water from the spring to wash away the guilt of transactions carried out through deception.
A scene from Hermes’ (Mercury’s) early days, when he reconciled with Apollo, painted by Noël Coypel, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
20.8.2026 (3.8.2008)
Nue
Today’s excursion into the world of supernatural beings will take us through the Japanese collections gallery. It begins with a hybrid creature that is not uncommon in folklore.
The Nue is one such creature; the imagination has pieced it together from several ordinary animals. It has the head of a monkey, the body of a raccoon dog, the legs of a tiger, and a snake for a tail. However, it is not its appearance that we should fear when visiting distant islands; the Nue brings disease and misfortune. To this end, it can transform into a dark cloud and float unnoticed across the sky—reports of this come from the highest circles. One of its victims was Emperor Konoe, who was plagued by terrible nightmares. Fortunately, someone noticed the aforementioned dark cloud, which would descend upon the roof of the palace in Kyoto at two o’clock every night, so it was no problem for a samurai named Minamoto no Yorimasa to step forward at that hour and shoot the cloud down with his bow. Naturally, the dead nue fell at his feet in that strange animal-like form.
20.8.2026 (17.8.2008)
Harionago
Another Japanese exhibit is a woman. Dangerously beautiful. And dangerously dangerous, too. She appears in Ehime Prefecture on the island of Shikoku, where she lies in wait for prey along the roads. Young men, of course.
As soon as one such young man appears, the harionago smiles at him. When the meal returns the smile, the demoness’s hair enters the scene. This hair is the most significant feature of the harionago—it is long, studded with sharp thorns, and does not simply flutter in the wind; the demoness controls it just as she does her other limbs. Which makes it the ideal weapon.
20.8.2026 (17.8.2008)
Rokurokobi
During the day, these demons look quite a bit like you or me (that is, if you’re human, of course). But at night… You wouldn’t recognize them in the sunlight; they often lead lively social lives, and not even their life partners have any idea that after dusk they set out to haunt people.
To this end, they can change their faces (usually into the likeness of Japanese oni) and also stretch their necks out quite a bit. Their attention is focused primarily on drunks and madmen, who are the usual targets of all sorts of bogeymen elsewhere as well. However, they don’t hesitate to terrify just about anyone
It is said that rokurokubi were originally humans whose karma caused them to be reincarnated as ghosts; many Buddhist supernatural beings share this origin, such as the prāta. These creatures then behave like vampires and man-eaters; however, it’s true that you can sometimes mistake a rokurokubi for the far more dangerous nukekubi. That’s just how it goes. In contrast, the much less dangerous Japanese tanuki, for its part, occasionally mimics today’s long-necked guest just to play a prank on people.
The longing for a normal human existence causes immense pain to some of these demons as they try to defy their fate; others have become so accustomed to their daytime form that they have no idea who they really are—they just have somewhat unsettling dreams in which (thanks to their extendable necks) they see their surroundings from inaccessible vantage points.
20.8.2026 (17.8.2008)
Indra
Like many of the former divine figures who contributed to the creation of the world, the Hindu god Indra also faced the typical fate of a founding father.
In the era of Vedic myths, he was the supreme god, the ruler of the world, and a key participant in its creation. He presided over the weather, represented primarily by storms and rain; however, he also had to battle the demon Vritra, who once set out to hold back all the world’s waters (an explanation for catastrophic droughts that was also adopted, for example, by the Australians and the North American Algonquins). He was a fearless and invincible warrior. Being four-armed is nothing unusual in Indian legends. His favorite weapon is the vajra, a thunderbolt—a common attribute of most major gods. In addition, he possesses a mode of transportation in the form of the white elephant Airavata and a wife, Indrani.
She belongs to several groups of goddesses: the Seven Divine Mothers, who later became evil forces; the Eight Jealous Mothers; and the Nine Highly Valued Astral Gods. As a jealous goddess, she is called Aindri. She, too, has her own elephant (or lion) and a thousand eyes.
No sooner had creation and the battles to save the world ended than a new generation took over and the creator retired—this holds true for nearly all religions. As I once noted, humans are an eternally dissatisfied breed, and when they contrast the grand narratives of the past with the harshness of everyday life, they sometimes ask the wrong questions. In this case, it was the trinity of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva that better suited the believers. Indra thus became the commander of the divine armed forces, the head of the lesser gods, and the great king of great kings, guarding the cardinal directions. He himself presides over the eastern direction, which for Buddhists is guarded by Dhrtarashtra; Buddhists, of course, are also familiar with Indra, though they usually call him Śakra (which is one of his epithets and means “The Mighty”), and according to them as well, he resides on Mount Meru and rules over the thirty-three gods. Even the famous battle with Vritra was slightly altered in later times, and in the story, Indra became something of a coward who could not manage without the help of Vishnu and Shiva. But that’s just how it goes sometimes.
The best known of Indra’s many descendants is Arjuna (sometimes considered an incarnation of Vishnu), one of the most famous and well-known Indian heroes; however, his mother was not Indrani, Indra’s lawful wife, but Princess Kunti.
Image of Indra riding Airavata: See page for author [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
20.8.2026 (10.8.2008)
Garmr
A Norse counterpart to the Greek Cerberus, better known without the usual -r at the end. Like the aforementioned Mediterranean multi-headed dog, his Scandinavian counterpart is the guardian of the underworld Helheim. The path to it leads through the cave of Gnípa, where the four-eyed canine monster with an eternally bloodied chest stands guard faithfully; but as is often the case in myths, there is always a way to bypass such a guardian, whether by trickery or by force. The Norse also have this option; surprisingly, in contrast to their usual harsh ways, it is linked to charity. For only those who offer Garm a piece of cake from Hel, the ruler of the underworld, may pass by him—and this treat is granted only to those who have given bread to the poor.
Every self-respecting monster in Norse mythology is recorded as having slain one of the major gods during Ragnarök. Garm is no exception; his victim is to be Tyr, the god of war and justice—the two will kill each other. He is sometimes confused with Fenrir, perhaps because in some accounts of the end of the world, Fenrir also breaks his chains (though it is sometimes stated that he is chained in a cave in the underworld). But such things happen in stories that come from the mists of time.
20.8.2026 (24.8.2008)
Surma
Surma hails from Garm’s neighborhood—that is, from Finland. Like Garm, he is the guardian of the gate to the underworld, in this case Tuonela. With his mouth wide open so he can devour passersby in a flash, a serpentine tail, and the basilisk’s ability to petrify with a mere glance, he guards both the entrance—to prevent living people from wandering into Tuonela—and the exit—to keep Death from escaping into the world. He himself is the personification of sudden, violent death, and in addition to his main job, he also serves as the guard dog of the abode of Kalma, the goddess of death.
20.8.2026 (24.8.2008)
Pesanta
My information about another supernatural dog comes solely from Wikipedia, with no other references, but so be it. According to that source, the pesanta is a large, black, and shaggy dog with steel claws that sneaks into Catalan homes at midnight to lie on a sleeper’s chest and weigh him down, thereby bringing on nightmares. Sometimes it’s said to take the form of a cat, and then I understand it perfectly. A house cat, with its innate species-specific ability, is truly adept at finding the most (un)suitable spot to sleep, so you don’t have to go all the way to Spain to experience what the Catalans describe in connection with the pesanta.
20.8.2026 (24.8.2008)
Ananse
Spiders aren’t usually among the most popular creatures, not even in legends, which often tolerate all sorts of strange apparitions. But eight hairy legs are eight hairy legs, and looking at them through a magnifying glass doesn’t exactly put your mind at ease either. Yet there are exceptions, such as the Ashanti divine spider Ananse.
His most important achievement was spinning a thread and creating the first human, whom the sky god Nyame subsequently brought to life. Using the same method, the two then created the entire first generation of the earth’s new inhabitants; after that, reproduction continued in the usual way. And the spider became a human idol, so that no one would forget that it was thanks to his heavenly relative that humans came into the world.
Ananse himself then served as a messenger, a role often filled by the chameleon elsewhere in Africa. He carried wishes and complaints up to the heavens, but thanks to his abilities, he did not limit himself to that; for example, when people complained that it was difficult for them to rest from their work because there were no time boundaries, the divine spider set to work and wove the day, the night, and the celestial bodies. They didn’t like it very much up above, but the division of the day was already a fact, and people could rest. But they were (and are) human. So the next message Ananse carried to the gods was a complaint that it was dark at night and cold during the day. That the sun, which He had created to combat the cold, scorched the earth; that the subsequent cooling rains caused floods (which is why, as an additional act of creation, lakes and rivers were formed so that the water would have a place to gather). And the warm wind, which was supposed to dry the earth after the floods, was too warm...
It’s hard to say whether Ananse conveyed humanity’s eternal complaints in a neutral tone, or whether he secretly amused himself at God’s despair over one demand after another; what is certain is that ever since he became the son-in-law of the Supreme God—having succeeded in seducing His daughter—he grew increasingly bold, until he was finally fired. Actually, it was a golden parachute, because he was sent off to become the first king of mankind.
His reign brought many innovations, especially in the field of agriculture; Ananse taught his subjects to irrigate their fields and till the soil, to winnow grain, and introduced them to the invention of the hoe. And in doing so, he ensured the Ashanti’s positive attitude toward those certainly interesting—though not exactly appealing to us—eight-legged creatures.
20.8.2026 (31.8.2008)
Aspidochelon
Many stories are told about it (though, admittedly, they are often just retellings of a single one). Aspidochelon—or, according to others, Fastitokalon—is a gigantic whale whose back resembles a sandy island. Saint Brendan landed on one such creature (though he subsequently named the monster he discovered “Jasconius”), and Sinbad experienced a similar situation, as did unnamed, rheumatism-ridden retired sea dogs who amaze gullible landlubbers with dramatic accounts of their past adventures.
The Aspidochelon is thus a variant of the better-known leviathan; however, it is said to possess a deliberate malice, waiting until people have disembarked on the supposed islet, built a fire, and settled down to sleep before sinking. Fish—presumably a much more common source of food than sailors—are lured by a sweet scent that leads them right into its wide-open jaws.
20.8.2026 (7.9.2008)
Porco
Medieval bestiaries described many animals that seem strange from today’s perspective. Since people at that time did not particularly care for the unknown, these strange animals are often considered strange simply because it seemed somehow impossible to the people of that era that creatures with characteristics different from those that ran, flew, or crawled on land could live in the sea.
The Porco is therefore a sea pig that lives near the seafloor and roots in the sand, just as land pigs search for food in the soil.
20.8.2026 (7.9.2008)
Serra
Sometimes you’ll find a mermaid under this name—that is, a creature with the upper body of a girl and the lower body of a fish—but I’ll skip that one. The serra I’m referring to had a similar build, except that its fish-like rear was paired with the front of a lion. It also had large wings, which, of course, it used for flying. Yes, you’re right—today we’re talking about a flying fish that’s certainly interesting but quite common: most likely a member of the genus Exocoetus, which can glide up to 100 meters through the air while fleeing predators (the slightly larger European flying fish, Dactylopterus volitans—a fish of a different order but with similar habits, with which flying fish are often confused—“flies” much shorter distances). But while flying gurnards and flying fish of the genus Exocoetus use the airspace above the water’s surface to escape, the medieval serra, on the other hand, liked to leap at ships and bite into them. Sometimes even at sailors.
According to Isidore of Seville, the serra had a serrated dorsal fin with which it sliced through ship keels; other ancient authors claim that it liked to use its large wings to—literally—take the wind out of ships’ sails.
20.8.2026 (7.9.2008)
Uriel
It’s tricky with the archangels. Their names were not usually mentioned in the oldest biblical writings, which is why in later texts they often took turns in the same role or appeared in the same stories. This is also true for Uriel, usually considered the fourth of the known archangels.
For example, in one of several apocryphal texts not included in the biblical canon, he is mentioned in connection with Jacob’s famous training before his struggle with Esau; in another, he conveyed God’s answers to the prophet Ezra’s questions regarding the end of the world. Uriel’s most famous appearance is recorded in the now-popular Book of Enoch, where, for example, he explained the history of the Nephilim—the descendants of the sons of God and the daughters of men—and described the mechanics of heaven to an astonished traveler. He was also responsible for ensuring the timely delivery and accuracy of the information provided to Noah before the Flood.
He is often classified among the cherubim and mentioned as the guardian of the gates of Eden, renowned for his flaming sword. He saved the infant John the Baptist during Herod’s massacre of the innocents, and according to others, he belongs to the guardians of God’s throne (that is, the seraphim). In much earlier times, namely during the Exodus from Egypt, it was Uriel who checked which doors were marked with the blood of a lamb, so that the firstborn would not be struck down by the final plague of Egypt.
In later angelology, he was honored as the representative of the south, the guardian of the gates of hell, and the Fire of God; in medieval Jewish tradition, he was the angel associated with Sunday and the patron of poets.
Although he was removed—along with other archangels—from the official list at the Roman Council of 745, which retained only the well-known names Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel, this did not prevent him, for example, from being counted among the heavenly favorites of the Bulgarian Bogomil sect three centuries later.
20.8.2026 (14.9.2008)
Tentirujo and Busgosu
The Cantabrian goblin Tentirujo, like many similar tiny creatures, has pointed ears and a mischievous nature that is not exactly worth emulating. He specializes in young women, whom he whips with a mandrake root under the guise of invisibility until their minds are flooded with carefree and, above all, lustful thoughts.
His relative from another part of Spain—Asturias— the Busgosu, hasn’t grown much taller either. His fondness for green clothing may date back to the time. when the Celts lived in Spain; except for his typical green hat and robe and his size—“no larger than the palm of a hand”—he would more likely belong among other mythical and folkloric figures. He has horns on his head and the lower body of a goat, so we are dealing with a miniaturized version of a satyr. He is also like Faun, because the busgosu possesses characteristics of both: he abducts women, protects the forest and its inhabitants (he detests hunters). He loves mischievous pranks, so sometimes he might lead a person by the nose through the forest (perhaps all the way to a cliff, from which the person will fall due to their own foolishness), and other times he might show a lost traveler the way home.
As a protector of shepherds, he grew into Musgoso, a pleasant (and human-sized) mountain dweller who walks through the countryside with a deliberate, weary stride, clad in a moss-covered fur coat and playing the flute. It is a strange—and, of course, magical—musical instrument. Thanks to it, many shepherds have found their flocks. They revere him not only for his playing, which can warn them of danger; the mountain folk know full well that Musgoso cleans the springs in the spring, and he has helped many of them repair their homes, which were destroyed by storms. Although everyone has seen him only from a distance, they never encounter him face to face. And no one has ever heard his voice.
20.8.2026 (21.9.2008)
Haltija
We won’t be talking here about Finland’s highest mountain, which rises 1,300 meters above sea level. The mythical and folkloric haltija is a household spirit and guardian of local origin—that is, the spirit of a person who once lived. In this case, it is the spirit of the person who founded a particular house or farmstead, or who lit the first fire in the hearth, and sometimes even the first person to die in that place. Regardless of how it came to be, in accordance with ancient customs, this guardian spirit (invisible, sometimes appearing in the same form it had in life) primarily protects the dwelling itself, so it does not move with the family; folklore tradition therefore recommends, in such cases, taking a little ash from the old house to the new one, thereby bringing the protective spirit along with you.
Of course, no nation lives in a sterile environment free from outside influences, so other household deities—immigrants from neighboring Sweden—soon appeared in Finland as well. From the Tomte elf of that region, in the Land of a Thousand Lakes, he became Tonttu—a bearded old man in gray with a red cap—who was responsible for the same duties as the Haltija and, in addition, was involved in the crafts of the Maahiset, until they all began to blend together somewhat. The guardian spirits of the home came to be called Kotihaltija, because other haltijas also appeared, until the name became a term denoting a whole range of different supernatural beings—much like the Nats in Myanmar, located more than halfway around the globe. But I’ll save that distinction for another time.
20.8.2026 (28.9.2008)
Peju’lpe
Nowadays, these guardian spirits don’t protect very much anymore, because thirty years ago, fewer than a thousand of the Siberian Yukagirs—to whom they belong—remained. Yet they remain genuinely shamanistic, despite the official Orthodox veneer. This people—who call themselves the Oduls—are believed to have once returned from North America, where their ancestors had crossed the Bering Strait to give rise to the Native American settlements on that continent. This conclusion is drawn from the linguistic isolation of the Oduls. Their gods and demons are thus lost in time, and in ethnographic records, the peju’lpe—as already mentioned—are described as protectors of animals. Given this role, it is common for them to view hunters with disapproval if the latter behave in an environmentally unfriendly manner. They tolerate hunting out of necessity, just as—for example—the Tans of California do.
20.8.2026 (5.10.2008)
Igalilik
He walks across the icy plains like the spirit of an Eskimo hunter. As is customary in the region, he carries all his belongings in a bag on his back, including the famous large pot in which an entire seal can be cooked at once. And because both the owner and the pot are magical in nature, the pot continues to cook even while he walks and while inside the bag, so Igalilik always has a ready-made meal.
20.8.2026 (5.10.2008)
Iqiasuak
The last of today’s posts is a spirit in the true sense of the word—that is, a human spirit. Iqiasuak used to be an ordinary Inuit hunter—more precisely, a Nunamiut, an Eskimo tribe living in the Canadian interior and subsisting primarily on caribou hunting. It was into a caribou that Iqiasuak transformed himself, because he didn’t feel like chasing prey or doing all that tedious human work.
His wanderings across the tundra naturally ended with him being hunted—by an Inuit just as lazy as Iqiasuak himself. This wouldn’t have been tragic in itself, because normally the caribou’s soul would have been released and reincarnated, but the hunter failed to sever the head from the first cervical vertebra as he should have, so Iqiasuak remained trapped inside. He could only peer out desperately from the carcass and despair.
Fortunately, not all Nunamiuts were like the two mentioned above, and Iqiasuak was reincarnated into a magnificent specimen; so when, after some time, another hunter—this time a conscientious and knowledgeable one—passed by, he noticed the large antlers and the sloppy work, finished the job, and Iqiasuak’s soul was finally set free.
20.8.2026 (5.10.2008)
Saning Sari
Just as Burhi Khes is the Mother of Rice for the Oaron people of India, the Javanese have Saning Sari. The ritual is different, however: the Javanese sow the best grains in a field shaped like the goddess, then transplant them to selected fields, and the harvest from this spot is, of course, stored as next year’s seed.
20.8.2026 (12.10.2008)
