Last week we looked at some of the (slightly) friendlier dogs you might find in the folklore wilderness - show respect, don’t touch or talk to them unless it is to help them, and it is unlikely you will come to harm.
But what of the more sinister dogs, the hunting packs and those that aren’t truly dogs at all?
As always, today we’ll look at how you might identify them, where you might find them, and how you might survive them.
Bogey-beast and shapeshifting dogs
Some dogs you might encounter in the wilds are not dogs at all, but shapeshifters and bogey-beasts. This is a larger category and we will come back to it over time as there are many creatures of the Folk that belong to this group.
Two notable shapeshifters that often take the form of a large, shaggy black dog with fiery eyes (in appearance indistinguishable from the black dogs of last week) are the Barguest and the Capelthwaite. Both may also appear in other forms - the Barguest has been known to appear with horns and claws, while the Capelthwaite could take any shape but preferred that of a dog.
The Barguest may be found Leeds and Lincolnshire, and is often considered a portent of death, appearing before or after the death of a person of note. It may also haunt a particular place - for example, an old barn near Willoughton Cliff was haunted by a barguest named ‘Hairy Jack’ by the locals.
The Capelthwaite was a bogey beast found in Westmorland. He lived in a barn on a farm and was friendly to the people of that farm, even helping to round up their sheep and cattle. However, he could be both spiteful and mischievous towards strangers and in the end caused so much trouble that the locals felt the need to ‘lay’ him, or send him away, with all due ceremony at the local river. He has not been seen in the area since.
Another worth noting is the Galley-Trot, which is an apparition rather than a shapeshifter or a true dog, taking the form of a very large (the size of a bull), shaggy white dog. The Galley-Trot is found in the North Country and in Suffolk.
Danger and protection
There are differing accounts of the danger posed by the Barguest, but on Edith’s recommendation we will stick to the account provided by Katharine Briggs, which suggests the Barguest is more likely to be a warning or symbol of death, rather than to cause injury or death. In one account it is driven away by a man who showed no fear of it - a possible form of protection against the Folk - although overall like the black dogs it should not be approached or spoken to.
As outlined above, the Capelthwaite is more likely to be mischievous or even spiteful, but not downright malicious, and may be laid with the appropriate ceremonies.
The Galley-Trot will pursue those who run from it - ‘gally’ means ‘to frighten’ - and your best protection will be to stand your ground and show no fear.
dog packs
The dog packs should be divided between those that are again a portent of death, and those that wreck actual destruction. In the former category, we find the Cwn Annwn (koon anoon) (the Welsh hell hounds), the Gabriel Ratchets (particularly to be found in Lancashire), and the Wish Hounds of Dartmoor and Cornwall.
The Cwn Annwn are best known for the their howling - from far away it is a loud cry, full of wild lamentation, but the closer they come to you, the softer their voice will sound. The Gabriel Hounds, or Gabriel Ratchets (a ratchet being an old word for a hound that hunts by scent), make a sound like the cries and wing-beats of migratory birds, especially geese. They are said to appear as monstrous dogs with human heads, who travelled high in the air. The Wish Hounds, also known as Yell-hounds or Yeth-hounds, are spectral, headless dogs that hunt in a pack.
The more dangerous dog packs include the Devil’s Dandy Dogs, the Dando Dogs, and the Wild Hunt. The former two have a strong religious link - the hunts are led by the Devil or by wicked, condemned priest - while the Wild Hunt is composed of black dogs and huntsmen on black horses or bucks.
These hunts have seen throughout England, and unlike the Gabriel Ratchets, travel along or just above the ground rather than through the air. They are said to hunt for human souls. While the best protection is to run and seek shelter, it has been suggested that prayer may hold them back.
The dogs of the Wild Hunt.
story time
The barguest
This story is copied directly Hone’s Every-Day Book and Table Book, volume 3 (1827) to maintain the dialect in which the story was given and recorded.
You see, sir, as how I'd been a clock dressing at Gurston (Grassing-ton), and I'd staid rather lat, and maybe getten a lile sup o' spirit; but I war far from being drunk, and knowed everything that passed. It war about eleven o'clock when I left, and it war at back end o' t' year, and a most admirable neet it war. The moon war verra breet, and I nivver seed Kylstone Fell plainer in a' my life. Now, you see, sir, I war passing down t' Mill loine, and I heerd summat come past me - brush, brush, brush, wi' chains rattlin' a' the while, but I seed nothing; and I thought to myself, now this is a most mortal queer thing. And I then stuid still and luiked about me; but I seed nothing at aw, nobbut the two stane wa's on each side o' t'mill loine. Then I heard again this brush, brush, brush, wi' the chains; for you see, sir, when I stood still it stopped, and then, thowt I, this mun be a Barguest, that sae much is said about; and I hurried on toward t' wood brig; for they say as how this Barguest cannot cross a watter; but, Lord, sir, when I gat o'er t' brig, I heerd this same again: so it mun either have crossed t' watter or have gone round by the spring heed! (About 30 miles).
And then I became a valiant man, for I were a bit freekend afore; and, thinks I, I'll turn and hev a peep at this thing; so I went up Greet Bank towards Linton, and heerd this brush, brush, brush, wi' the chains aw the way, but I seed nothing; then it ceased all of a sudden. So I turned back to go hame; but I'd hardly reached the door when I heerd again this brush, brush, brush, and the chains going down towards t' Holin House; and I followed it, and the moon there shone verra breet, and I seed its tail! Then thowt I, thou owd thing, I can say I'se seen thee now; so I'll away hame.
When I gat to the door there was a grit thing like a sheep, but it war larger, ligging across the threshold o' t' door, and it war woolly like; and I says, 'Git up!' and it wouldn't git up. Then says I, 'Stir thysel!' and it wouldn't stir itself. And I grew valiant, and I raised t' stick to baste it wi'; and then it luiked at me, and sich oies, they did glower, and war as big as saucers and like a cruelled ball. First there war a red ring, then a blue one, then a white one; and these rings grew less and less till they cam to a dot! Now I war none feared on it, tho it grin'd at me fearfully, and I kept on saying, 'Git up', and 'Stir thysel', and the wife heerd as how I war at t' door, and she came to oppen it; and then this thing gat up and walked off, for it war mare freeten'd o' t'owd wife than it war o' me; and I told the wife, and she said as how it war Barguest; but I never seed it since - and that's a true story.