A FOSSIL, BUT OF WHAT?

John and Dawn from the Haunted Skies project were down last weekend working on Volume Two. On Saturday morning they went for a walk along Bucks Mills beach and found this.



They (and Jon) presume that it is a fossil, but of what?



Ideas please....

MYSTERIOUS FOOTPRINT

To make things even more difficult, the commentary is in French and I don't know which part of the world it is. Over to you chaps.

THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO WOOLSERY: Jan Edwards writes...

Jan initially wrote to us the other day:

The horne'd bunny of Woolsery

My initial thought was ‘taint no bunny... looks more like a sheep or deer perhaps. But it’s hard to see how big these prints of yours are. Like you, I have seen lots of bunny footprints in snow, and they NORMALLY look like this http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumb_7/1109091111pKMBTf.jpg but in looking for this image on google, I came across this photo, which is also supposed to be rabbit footprints:
http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/5542048/2/istockphoto_5542048-animal-tracks-rabbit-footprints-in-the-snow.jpg which looks very much like your images, doesn’t it?

I currently have 21 pet rabbits looking for homes here at the sanctuary... we also have some snow.... Would it be really really terribly cruel of me to test it out? You know: Bunny walking in snow; bunny running in snow; bunny freezing it’s ...err... tail off in snow.... all in the name of science, you understand...

So I wrote back:

would you? And could you film and photograph it? We have no secure area in which to do it without the sods escaping... (and the snow is almost gone)

love

j

But two days later she replied:

Typical really.... Most of the snow has melted overnight, but more is expected in the next week. I will get you photos, and try to track down a video camera too. However, I showed your footage to a friend who is a crypto-naturalist, and HE doesn’t think it’s bunny either. The track is too straight, for one thing, and it looks biped. Rabbits (at any speed) will use all 4 feet. When it’s in a hurry, the big back feet appear to be in front of the smaller front ones, but you’d see all 4 feet... especially in snow that’s not deep. I still think it could be a deer or perhaps Boar – but the footprint would be deeper in the soft soil for boar. Do you have muntjac or roe deer nearby? Sheep /lamb perhaps, but you wouldn’t just get one. Or maybe goat??

Have you thought of Springheeled Jack?

And what do you think the “original” devil prints were? I have theories ranging from elaborate hoax to weather balloon, but I don’t believe the tracks went on for hundreds of miles, as reported.

Meanwhile.... back at the Ranch... we have our own mystery here. Not nearly to this scale (always trying to get one better, aren’t you?) but a mystery all the same. It’s the Phantom Peanut Pincher. We have bags of peanuts and suet balls and things hanging on trees for the birds. Something is eating a whole bag of peanuts and stealing suet balls from one of the trees during the night. Whatever-it-is, is too timid to come close to the house, where the birds make use of the food. It doesn’t tear holes in the peanut bag, like a rat or a squirrel would. It isn’t a small bird, because they go on all our bird feeders, and the other ones are only needing topped up once or twice a week.... plus whatever-it-is, takes down the mesh bags of suet and eats the contents, 10 foot from the tree on a dry stone wall. We are going to set a trap tonight – wet sand around the bottom of the tree, to see if we can get some tracks. I’m wondering about a pine marten...

Well, as always seems to be the case, you start looking at one mystery and you end up looking at another. I have been on the track of England's elusive marten population for twenty years now, and there are, indeed, records of this rare and beautiful carnivore in Co. Durham. The only problem being that according to accepted scientific methodology the species was hunted to extinction in all of England by the 1870s....

THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO WOOLSERY: Paul Vella thinks...

I was chatting to Paul Vella on MSN this morning. Here are some excerpts from our conversation...




Paul Vella says:
I think the solution is 'sheep'
Paul Vella says:
it seems that they bring their back feeet right up to their front feet when they walk and can look vaguely bipedal
Paul Vella says:
http://www.buyimage.co.uk/photonet/peaks04/pages/3763.htm

Jon D says:
i think there would be lots more damage to the snow and the garden itself if there were sheep in there overnight
Jon D says:
bloody hell
Paul Vella says:
what if there were only one?
Paul Vella says:
here is one in deeper snow where the sheep's belly has dragged through the snow http://www.flickr.com/photos/wheatfields/3276491530/

Jon D says:
Pauly. Can I cobble together excerpts from this convcersation in a bloggo posting?
Paul Vella says:
sure
Paul Vella says:
if it were a sheep, it might explain how it scaled a fence
Paul Vella says:
otherwise, I'm out of ideas now.
Paul Vella says:
But I thought those photos of the sheep tracks were odd - I'd never seen sheep tracks in snow before
Jon D says:
yes
Paul Vella says:
you would swear blind they were bipedal
Paul Vella says:
bears do the same thing, which I think is the most common cause of bigfoot tracks
Paul Vella says:
the hind feet and the front feet create one elongated print

Jon D says:
weird isnt it
Paul Vella says:
very. If it isn't a sheep, then I have no idea

THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO WOOLSERY: Dave McMann thinks....

How can I put this without offending you Jon? OK, you've known me long enough, so you know I don't mean anything untoward to you and CFZ.

OK. My theory. Kids. Let's face it. It happens near you, plus, looking at the video, the tracks are near bushes, so a telescopic angular device could have made those track. Also a one legged beast??? Also, that woman was far from convincing, if she had phoned the Sun she would have made a few quid!! I am certainly not saying you are involved with this 'hoax' It screams FAKE!

Nice entertainment though.

I don't agree Dave, but am not the slightest bit offended by your suggestion. I could have been done by kids, but I don't think it was.

Why?


1. There were no kids. It wasn't a bad enough snowfall to cause school outages even in these poncy health + safety obsessed days.

2. Apart from us fortean types, no-one has heard of the Devil's footprint mystery these days

3. There was bo sign of human disturbance to the snow until Graham arrived


And the beat goes on.........

THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO WOOLSERY: Graham Inglis's story

There’s an old-fashioned phrase, “there’s method in our madness.”

Today was a day when I went for lots of method, and saved up all the madness for later on.

When I carried the CFZ rubbish bags out into the road Wednesday night, the 4th of March 2009, it was snowing. I was surprised: I thought we’d seen the last of the “Christmas postcard” look, this winter. But I shrugged (mainly to shake snowflakes from my shoulders) – and retreated back indoors and thought no more of it. Until…

Thursday morning, got a phone call at around 0950 from Mrs Wade - a resident of our village - that some strange footprints were in her back garden. I was the only one awake (it had been a long and difficult evening, yesterday), so I grabbed my camera and headed off to have a look.

On arrival, shortly after 10am, my early and non-zoological impression was that the the prints looked like they’d been made by a one-legged deer. Sometimes, people describe an animal that’s missing a leg as “one-legged” when really they mean “three-legged” – and I may not be a zoologist, but I know enough to dismiss the idea of a one-legged deer pogo-ing around the rural landscape.

Mrs Wade recapitulated for the video camera how she’d seen these footprints from her window, had wondered what they were – and had then decided to ring the CFZ.

I was in preliminary investigation mode: rather like Sherlock Holmes, who said it’s a capital error to theorise in the absence of data. So, I just improvised. I’m very unused to studying snowprints, as we don’t get much snow in Devon. Mud, yes. There’s plenty of that in Devon. But mud’s quite a different medium, as sloppy mud doesn’t retain imprint countours and firmer mud doesn’t compact nearly so readily as snow.

Anyhow, the tracks presented a markedly in-line appearance, ie there was no discernable left-right-left-right pattern straddling an imaginary centre line.

I inferred direction of travel from the fact that one end of each track was clearly defined, whereas the other end was blurred. Forward motion of a human in the snow usually shows a well-defined heel print and a scuffed toe impression, so I decided to allow myself that assumption. A working assumption, of course.

The track ran from the far end of the lawn, across the almost-pristine snowy surface (just a few bird prints showed), and petered out at the paved area adjecent to the house, where the snow had already melted. Another linear string of tracks headed back out from the patio area, across the other side of the lawn.

So, with my back to the house, and facing south across the lawn, the inbound track (on my right) approached from the SSW (ie, south-west, but more south than west: a bearing of around 190º, I’d say). On the other side of the patio (my left), the tracks resumed in an arc roughly SSE (bearing 170º) back towards the end of the lawn area. The patio distance between the arrival point and departure point was roughly 20 ft.

Each print was roughly horseshoe-shaped, as if made by a cloven hoof – or two elongated feet close together, that move in unison. A U-shape describes the track quite well; V-shaped equally so. Something inbetween, really.

Devil’s Footprints? Well, the area at the dead centre of each overall shape showed no discernable impaction in the snow. The snow was around 2cm (almost one inch) deep, and a cloven foot would have to have an unusually deep cleft to leave that portion of the snow untouched. However, the sun was already destroying the early-morning evidence, and it was difficult to be sure.

After taking a few pictures, I suddenly had the bright idea of following the prints. Remember, this was 10am in the village of the CFZ, and I’d only had one coffee so far, so I wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet.

I found the garden had a well-defined boundary fencing – nothing that would thwart an intact deer, but definitely one that would make a one-legged deer scratch its head… assuming it had any spare limbs with which to do that, of course…

Following what I felt were the departing tracks, I found they fizzled out at the boundary hedge: snow had fallen on the hedge itself, but none had fallen – or at least none remained – under­ the hedge. So that trail had run cold. As a second-best, I then back-tracked the prints approaching the house, and found they fizzled out in exactly the same manner. However, the snow on each hedge and its associated shrubbery showed no significant disturbance, so I concluded nothing had barged through the foliage since the snowfall.

Inference: something had passed under the hedge? Something pretty small? A Mad March Hare, maybe?

Well, yes - possibly: on considering the matter later on, I decided the entity had not jumped the hedge. There was no snow-scatter (or deeper impression in the lawn itself) that one would expect if something had jumped a barrier several feet high and then landed on the other side. Not that I had ever thought this was seriously the case, but one has to cover all bases – remember, I had set myself the task of gathering data, rather than jumping to conclusions.

Since the snow in the vicinity of the hedge was shaded from the rising sun, there had been little melting, and thus tracks were well-preserved. However, since the snow in Woolsery mainly had arrived on a south-westerly track, approaching the garden from its (roughly) southern aspect, the areas most shielded from the sun had earlier also been well-shielded from the snow! So tracks were better-preserved there, but also less pronounced, since there was less snow to do the preserving in the first place.

If the snow had been borne on a northerly wind, then ingress and egress evidence might have been a lot more conspicuous. Still, there you go: we don’t always get what we wish for, in life, do we?

Observing a crime scene and not jumping to conclusions has been drummed into me by watching many Forensic Detectives shows on Discovery. But I couldn’t help but feel that this was probably tracks of a rabbit or hare. Something that hops with its feet together, anyway. The alternatives – that either a one-legged deer was exploring people’s gardens, or that Woolsery had received its first cloven-hoofed emissary from the Devil – these were both too much to contemplate before my second coffee of the morning!

THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO WOOLSERY: the video

WHEN THE GOING GETS WEIRD: The Devil Went Down to Woolsery

Now, I would like to say, here and now, that if I was standing on the outside looking in, I wouldn't believe this story at all, and I would be convinced that those naughty rapscallions at the CFZ had got a little tipsy in The Farmers Arms last night, and were playing a joke upon the rest of the fortean omniverse.

But, speaking as one of the aforementioned rapscallions, I can assure you that I am not!

Just before ten this morning, when Graham was toddling about the place all on his lonesome (because Graham is the first of the CFZ posse to rise in the morning) the telephone rang, and - being a dutiful fellow - he answered it.

It was a local lady who wondered if we would like to go and have a look at some peculiar footprints in the snow in her garden. Graham finished his coffee, grabbed the cameras and set off.

Despite the slidy nature of the roads (the snow having taken everyone by surprise) it only took him a few minutes to get to his destination, a private house next to a small close called `East Park`. (Yes there is a `South Park in the village, much to the amusement of all and sundry especially Oll and Richard)

In the garden he found a long line of footprints leading across the snowy lawn. As you can see, the only human footprints next to them are Graham's.

I am sure that you are all aware of the legend of the Devil's hoofprints - an occasion in February 1855 when a series of prints of what appeared to be cloven hooves were found in the snow all across South Devon. The superstitious locals believed that they were the work of the Devil and that the hornèd one had paid a personal visit to the county.

Well I don't believe that happened then, and I don't believe that is what happened last night either. There is certainly a perfectly rational zoological explanation for both events but our investigations are at a very early stage. In must be stressed however, that there are no scuff marks in the snow as would happen if a person had walked, and although the marks could have been made by someone on stilts that is highly unlikely.

Our investigations are continuing, and we will bring you more news as we get it...

GUEST BLOGGER RICHARD FREEMAN - Crocodile Cults Part Two - ASIA

Guest Blogger time for Richard Freeman again. As you are probably beginning to guess, the boy Freeman has crocodiles on the brain. He is travelling up to the north of England this week to give a talk at a newly opened spooky bar in South Shields. However he has left us with a treat - a three part article about crocodile cults around the world.

A veneration of crocodiles, similar to that of ancient Egypt, once existed in India. The Victorian traveler Andrew Leith Adams wrote of it after a visit in the 1860s. The “Mugger-Peer” lived in a sacred crocodile pond in Karachi, which in those days was part of India. The pond contained many crocodiles but the “Mugger Peer” was pre-eminent among them. A huge specimen, he was reputedly 200 years old and had his head painted red. He was attended by priests who fed him and his kin. Travellers were expedited to make donations to both the priests and the crocodiles. Adams and co had a goat sacrificed to them and watched as the dismembered beast was fed to the holy crocodiles.

The mugger pool still exists today, together with its population of holy reptiles. It is a Sufi shrine. This liberal strand of Islam has no problem with the veneration of the muggers. It is known as the Mango Pir shrine and lies around 15 miles southwest of the city centre. The 700-year-old shrine is said to be the resting place of a Hindu bandit who tried to rob the caravan of Baba Farid Shakar Ganj, the 13th century Sufi saint. The bandit saw the error of his way and was converted to Islam. The saint blessed him, and his lice grew into crocodiles.

The surrounding area is very dry and it is somewhat of a mystery how the 150 crocodiles got to the shrine. Some believe they are a relic of when the area was more lush. Pilgrims travel from all over Pakistan and India to feed the crocodiles on beef, chicken, and mutton in the hope that they will grant their wishes. The King of the shrine’s crocodiles is a huge male known as More Sawab, who despite his size, is reputed to be very placid. If he accepts an offering then the wish is granted. Ten years ago a child fell into the pool and More Sawab pushed him to the bank with his snout.

Lepers and those with skin afflictions bathe in the waters that run outside the shrine in the belief it can cure them.

On the Philippine island of Luzon a particularly large crocodile haunted the mouth of the Cagayan River. It was believed to contain the soul of a dead chief. This man was apparently the leader of a fierce mountain tribe. Ergo the croc was left well alone.

In Indonesia, crocodile folklore is rampant. On many islands in this vast chain, it was thought that women could mate with crocodiles. The product of this union was a human baby and a crocodile. The little reptile was released into the river whilst the human child was taken home. The mother left food for her scaly child by the waterside. Its human brother / sister would carry this on as they grew up. In return, the crocodile would protect the family. On certain feast days, they would throw special foods to the crocodiles.

On the island of Buru if a crocodile was terrorising a community it was believed that the offending creature had become infatuated with a local girl. Some poor woman was chosen (by what means it is unclear, but it was probably akin to European witch-hunts) and dressed in a bridal costume and given to the crocodile. There are no prizes for guessing what the wedding feast consisted of!

On the Moluccas crocodiles played a part in puberty rites. Youths would be taken from their mothers and passed through the jaws of a replica crocodile. Then the priests would take them away and teach them tribal secrets. After several days, they were passed out through the crocodile’s jaws again and rejoined the tribe to great rejoicing.

The influence of Islam in turning the crocodile from a subject of veneration to one of fear is illustrated by the Malay legend of Putri Padang Gerinsing. This woman took care of Siti Fatima, daughter of the Prophet Mohammed. Putri created the crocodile out of clay, betel nut sheaths, saffron, stones, and sugar cane. The crocodile was supposed to guard Fatima but at length became treacherous and savage. Fatima cursed it, driving it into the sea and giving it nails for teeth.

Of all places in Asia, the island of Borneo has the most folklore concerning crocodiles.
Many of the legends tell of marriage to crocodiles or crocodiles protecting certain tribes or peoples.

One such story relates how Sarani, princess from the Iban tribe, fell in love with a handsome prince. After a brief courtship, they were married and the prince took Sarani away to his kingdom. They paddled away in a canoe for several miles. The prince told Sarani to close her eyes. When she opened them she was in a wondrous underwater kingdom surrounded by fish.

After several months, Sarani told the prince that she missed her family and wanted to return. The prince said that if she left she would never be able to return. After some thought she said that she wished to be with her family again. The prince then revealed that he was the prince of the crocodiles. He gave her a parting gift, a magic jar that would bring prosperity to whoever owned it. If the jar was filled with water and sprinkled on the paddy fields it would ensure a good harvest. Also Sarani and all her descedents would be protected from crocodile attack.

The jar is now said to be in the possession of Jimmy Donald in Sarawak, Borneo.

Not all such relations were so friendly. One legend from central Borneo describes how a Dyak hero called Bantangorang tricked his way into a crocodile’s lair to steal its treasures. He disguised himself in bird feathers and animal skins and told the crocodile that he was its son sent to see his father by his mother who lived far away. The crocodile thought Bantangorang smelled suspiciously human so he decided to test him. The crocodile grabbed a man from the riverbank and cut him up. The unfortunate man was turned into a stew and offered to Bantangorang. The man (who was a cannibal anyway) had no trouble eating the stew. Convinced, the crocodile led the man to his lair under the riverbank. After a time Banatangorang made as if to leave then quickly turned and speared his host in the belly. He was then free to steal all the gold and jewels.

Another story has a Dyak man meeting a crocodile whilst out on a walk. The two struck up a conversation and became friends. The man invited the crocodile back to his longhouse were it entertained the whole family with fascinating stories and anecdotes. The family realised that it might do them good to have such a mighty beast in the family and offered their daughter to the crocodile in marriage.

As it turned out the crocodile was a very bad son in law. He did no work and ate all the family’s stores of corn and rice. He then began to threaten neighbours and eat their food stocks, much to the family’s shame. Finally, they ambushed the crocodile and hacked it to bits. Other crocodiles are so ashamed of their colleague’s behaviour that they do not eat Dyaks to this day.

GUEST BLOGGER RICHARD FREEMAN: Crocodile Cults - part one AFRICA

Guest Blogger time for Richard Freeman again. As you are probably beginning to guess, the boy Freeman has crocodiles on the brain. He is travelling up to the north of England this week to give a talk at a newly opened spooky bar in South Shields. However he has left us with a treat - a three part article about crocodile cults around the world.

Sebek was the crocodile headed god of the Egyptian pantheon. He controlled the flow of the river Nile and was associated with the fertility of the Nile delta. When the river flooded in September the delta would have been filled with crocodiles. He was also known as “the great devourer” perhaps in reference to the crocodile’s phenomenally powerful digestive system. This was seen as the natural circle, the life death and rebirth of all things. He is generally portrayed as a humanoid with a crocodile’s head.

Despite his predatory nature Sebek was a benevolent god. The son of Neith the first Egyptian god, Sebek was said to be one of only two gods who would endure forever as other god’s powers would fluctuate. He was a patron of the 13th Dynasty kings (1800 BC) many of whom were called Sebekhotep (Sebek is satisfied). His cult flourished in the delta areas such as Fayoum, Thebes and Lake Moeris. In 1900 excavations at Tebtunis uncovered a temple dedicated to Sebek 30 meters (100 feet) long and decorated with scenes of adoration, offerings, rituals, and great processions in his honor.

Another centre of his worship was Crocodilopolis (crocodile city). Here sacred crocodiles believed to be avatars of Sebek were kept in special sacred pools. They were adorned with gold, and hand fed milk and honey cakes by priests. Perhaps it is here that the idea that dragons guarded gold had its genesis. The chief of these pamper giants was known as Petersuchos. The city was said to have been founded by King Menes, first of the pharaohs. The legend tells of how he was set upon by wild dogs and fled into the waters of Lake Moeris. Here a crocodile offered to carry the king upon his back to the site that later became the city.

During the age of the New Kingdom (1400 BC) Sebek was seen as a manifestation of Ra the sun god, and Crocodilopolis became the pharaoh’s favorite city.

Crocodiles, like all sacred Egyptian animals, were mummified. Specimens from 30 cm (1 foot) hatchlings, to 5-meter (16 foot) adults have been found mummified. At Kom-Ombo small specimens were found stacked in their thousands and at the Maabdha Caves in central Egypt crocodile mummies were found stacked to a height of 9 meters (30 feet).

The idea of the crocodile / dragon as a force of evil may have also taken root in Egypt. Set was the god of darkness, associated with the sterility of the desert. He envied his brother Osiris. Their father Gib had divided Egypt between them but Set wanted the whole country. He hacked his brother Osiris to pieces then hid in the form of a crocodile.

Crocodiles were still being worshipped up until AD 335 when Monotheism, Christian, then Muslim put an end to Sebeks` reign. Some superstitions still hung on until relatively recently. In certain areas of Egypt it was believed that crocodiles would never attack Christians, only Muslims. Christians would bathe in parts of the Nile frequented by crocodiles whilst Muslims would not dare.

Amazingly, though no longer actually worshiped in Egypt, crocodiles were still given human sacrifices. Whenever a canal was being dug, virgins were sacrificed to appease the crocodiles. This was also thought to ensure a continuing supply of water for the surrounding crops. The practice was continued until AD 642.


In sub-Saharan Africa the crocodile still exerts a supernatural grip on the minds of humans. Many tribes believe that charms made from body parts of crocodiles, especially man-eaters, can give them immunity from crocodile attack. The belief is particularly strong in the Thongas of northern Zululand. They credit the crocodile with bringing rain (much like the eastern dragon). Crocodile fat is used as a charm against lightning strikes. Gastroliths (stones swallowed by crocodiles) are used in divination and to foretell the deaths of chiefs.

The association with crocodiles and blindness was again found by noted Dark Continent explorer David Livingstone. The people of the Ba-Kuena or crocodile clan of South Africa believed that contact with crocodiles caused swelling of the eyes and blindness. Despite believing crocodiles to be ancestor spirits they feared them greatly. Anyone who actually survived a crocodile attack was ostracised from the tribe, as it was believed the victim was tainted with sin.

In Benin crocodiles were believed to contain evil spirits. Many were kept in ponds at the Royal Palace where priests placated them with offerings. Also in Benin along the Mono River a crocodile priest sired a child with a different woman once per year. The baby was fed to the sacred crocodile as an appeasement.

In the Gambia there are several pools existing today that still contain sacred crocodiles. The most notable are at Kartong and Katchikalli. Women who have trouble in conceiving bathe in the pools, protected from the crocodiles by wooden screens. If she conceives she will bring her child back to the pool and show it to the crocodiles whist thanking them for their help. Wrestlers also bathe in the pools to bring them luck in bouts, as do businessmen before important transactions.

Human sacrifice to sacred crocodiles has been practiced in several parts of Africa. British missionary Rev J.Rosco described a crocodile cult he stumbled across in Lake Victoria, Uganda. The high priest would mimic the movements of the sacred beasts and call them out onto the lakeshore. Here prisoners, with their arms and legs broken, would be staked out. The crocodiles emerged and devoured the hapless victims. It was believed that the fishermen of the tribe could then cross the lake safely.

Crocodiles were often said to be the familiars of witchdoctors. Another missionary Rev W. Holman Bently recorded such beliefs around 1900 in the Congo. Natives considered crocodiles in themselves to be harmless creatures. They would attend fish traps and swim in waters known to be inhabited by crocodiles without hesitation. When a crocodile ate someone they said it had been bewitched. They would subsequently hunt down and kill the sorcerer.

Henry Stanley uncovered an even odder bit of folklore on Ukerewe Island in Lake Victoria. The chief of the neighboring Ukara Island was said to be able to control crocodiles. One lived in his hut as tame as a dog. The chief grew enamored of a member of the harem of the chief of Ukerewe and sent out a crocodile to kidnap her. The reptile seized the girl and carried her unharmed across eight miles of water to Ukara.

When Stanley expressed doubt, he was told that the father of the current chief of Ukerewe had also owned a trained crocodile that had stolen an Arab’s wife and brought her home. There was a belief on the Island that a dead person’s soul could be transformed into a crocodile and that only bewitched crocodiles attacked humans.

The Konde, who inhabited the northern end of Lake Nyassa had similar folklore. If someone was thought to be causing man eating among crocodiles by magic they were placed in a fish trap alive and left for the crocodiles to eat.

Most people will have heard of the Leopard Men, but far fewer of the Crocodile Men. This was a secret society that flourished in Sierra Leone and the Ivory Coast. Initiates dressed in crocodile masks and skins. They moved around the rivers in crocodile shaped canoes and worshipped crocodile idols. They killed victims to get their hair, lungs, and brain, which were eaten in magical rites.

In some parts of Africa crocodiles were looked upon as judges. On the White Nile at Malaka, the Shilluk tribe allowed men accused of adultery to swim the river. If they were attacked they were deemed guilty and the crocodile was the executioner.

On the island of Madagascar similar beliefs called Tangem- voay were held. Here crocodiles were known as “voay” and credited with the ability to distinguish between right and wrong. It was said that they never attacked anyone with a clear conscience. Many times an accused, in the heat of a legal debate would rise up and shout “May the voay eat me if, if I have done what I am accused of” and make for the nearest river. In one case a girl was said to be having an affair with a slave and was condemned to trial by voay. On a full moon night she entered a river close to an island inhabited by voay then submerged herself three times. She was not attacked, and her accuser was ordered to pay heavy indemnity.

The Nile crocodile is the only large predator on Madagascar so much folklore has been woven around it. It is said that a prosperous village once stood on the shores of Lake Anivorano in the north of the island. One day a weary traveller came to the village and asked for a drink of water. He had gruff refusals all around except for one old woman who gave him a drink. The stranger warned the woman and her family to move away from the lake. He was a sorcerer who caused the waters to rise and engulf the village. The ill-mannered inhabitants were all turned into crocodiles.

In another story set in the lands of the Antandroy tribe, a woman was said to have been caught in a fish trap with a crocodile. She married the voay and they had two sons who founded the Zafandravoay tribe - the sons of the crocodile. These people are said never to harm a crocodile and in turn are never attacked by one. When a Zafandravoay dies a nail is hammered into his head to stop his body from walking. Once he is placed in a tomb the nail is removed and the body is free to go to the river and become a crocodile.

In former times the entrails of dead kings of the Sakalave people were fed to the crocodiles of Lake Komakoma. The crocodiles were looked on as ancestors and never hunted unless one of them killed a human first. If a crocodile had to be killed in such a way it would be buried with great ceremony and much lamenting. Women would let down their hair in morning and the men beg the voays` spirit for forgiveness.

The French naturalist Chapelier, who visited the island over 180 years ago, knew of a chief in the Bay of Antongil who regarded a gigantic crocodile that lived in nearby pool as his ancestor. Each year he sacrificed one young man and one young woman to the beast. Bedecked in jewellery they were hung over the pond until the huge reptile came to devour them.