MIKE HALLOWELL: The Bishop Auckland boars

Cryptozoology is a funny old business, involving as it does the passionate study of something that almost all experts agree we know precious little about. Sensible people study animals that are known to science and easily accessible. We cryptozoologists detest conventionality, far preferring to take the difficult route by studying animals that few people have ever seen and just about nobody has ever studied. Insane? Probably, but its far less painful than haemorrhoids and (usually) unlikely to get you arrested.

Cryptozoology is difficult enough, then, but it gets even tougher when experts in the field can’t even agree about what monster it is that they’re trying to catch. The Bishop Auckland Boars are a wonderfully typically example of this dilemma.

Essentially there are two “monster” legends attached to the Pollard’s Dene area of Bishop Auckland. Superficially they seem to be the same, the only important detail that changes being, to quote a phrase, the nature of the beast. In one version of the story the creature is a large, aggressive dragon or “wyrm”. In the second version the beast is a large, aggressive boar, or “brawn”. Both are said to be the meanest critter ever to have walked God’s earth. If they ever met, it would be a great match; a classic case of the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object.

The boar was an animal indigenous to Britain. The wild boar (Sus scrofa) was populous throughout much of central Europe, and was hunted in Britain by the Romans who loved to dine upon its succulent flesh. Over-hunting eventually led to its decline, and by the 13th century it was rarely seen. Some scholars have suggested that it was actually extinct by then, but this is unlikely. Sightings were reported in the north of England as late as the 17th century. However, not long after that it really did become extinct, although it has now been reintroduced and at least two breeding populations are known to exist in the wild.

This gives us a clue as to when the legend of the Bishop Auckland boars originated. Until the 13th century, the presence of a boar in the countryside would not have caused much of a stir. After the animal’s decline, however, it would have caused a degree of alarm in exactly the same way as the Bishop Auckland boar was said to have done. Its very scarcity would have made it a beast easy to be both feared and misunderstood. This suggests that the Bishop Auckland Boar story probably found its way into the currency of folklore between the 13th and 17th centuries, the 14th century being the one I would plump for if I was forced to choose. Here’s why:

In St Andrew’s South Church at Bishop Auckland there is an effigy of a knight carved from oak. His identity is unknown but under his feet there is a subdued boar. Few doubt that the effigy may well be connected to the Bishop Auckland boar legend and experts have dated it to circa the year 1340. I think it is highly likely, then, that the effigy was commissioned during the 14th century after the decline of wild boar had already begun and the legend had already become established.

How the wyrm and boar stories became confused is not hard to work out. The boar was sometimes referred to as the gewurm, a Teutonic word meaning “dangerous animal.” Almost inevitably, then, gewurm and wyrm would become confused. Truth to tell, though, it is not so much the taxonomy of the Bishop Auckland boar that gains it an entry into this book, but rather its terrible nature and unusual size. These two features alone catapult it firmly into the environs of cryptozoology, and for that we should be truly thankful.

Our story begins when hunters around Bishop Auckland – and particularly the area of Pollard’s Dene – began to report encounters with a boar of truly terrible disposition. Initially it was said to be around eight feet in length, which is certainly not outside the bounds of possibility. However, although boars are by instinct bad-tempered creatures, particularly when disturbed, this particular beast was truly ferocious. Several hunters reported that it would charge their horses and knock them (and their riders) to the ground.

A number of attempts were made to catch the creature but were wholly unsuccessful. On one occasion a tragedy occurred and this seems to have made the local populace more determined than ever to catch the beast. The tale is historically dubious but basically tells of a certain knight, resplendent in a heavy suit of armour, who went into the woods one evening at dusk. Some versions say he was hunting for the boar itself, others that he was there for other reasons; it matters not. The important feature of the tale is what transpired when the noble warrior and the boar met.

Seemingly, on entering a clearing the knight was confronted by the beast, which immediately charged him. The horse was badly injured and the knight was unable to get up from the ground and defend himself due to the incredible weight of his armour. The creature rammed him repeatedly with its tusked head until he was dead. Enough was enough, and it was decided that something needed to be done, and quickly.

At this juncture the story becomes a little confused. Some versions ascribe the killing of the creature to Richard Pollard, a brave but penniless knight from nearby Bishop Middleham. Others claim the beast was slain merely by “a brave young hunter.” The effigy in the church indicates that the man was certainly of noble bearing but my own feeling is that Richard Pollard was actually responsible for the demise of the Pollard wyrm, and not the boar, although it is just conceivable that he killed both. Whoever was responsible, the legend states that the hunter confronted the creature at a hollow near a place called Byers Green and slew it by repeatedly hacking at its neck with his sword. The rest, as they say, is history.

Inevitably, stories relating to the size of the boar became exaggerated with the passing of time. If the creature was, as some reports state, over twenty feet in length from tail to snout, then we simply cannot be dealing with a regular boar, but surely one of unknown taxonomic provenance. It is also interesting to note that in some accounts the Boar is said to possess huge, glowing eyes.

Alas, as the whereabouts of the remains of the creature are unknown (if indeed they still exist) we simply cannot be sure what type of animal we are dealing with. All we know for sure is that it terrified the life out of the good folk of Bishop Auckland. In one version of the story, the boar that killed the knight was accompanied by a youngster who also joined in the attack. This suggests that there may have been a breeding population ensconced in the vicinity. If this was the case, then the herd undoubtedly died out before too long, as reports of boars in that area petered out soon after.

Now that Sus scrofa has been reintroduced to the British Isles, the day may not be long in coming when the Bishop Auckland boar may once again live through its historical (if not biological) descendants. It would be nice to think so.