Legendary Creatures That Actually Exist In Real Life - Part 2

Why hello there! I've just finished making Bartholomew's Bestiary, the fantastical trading card game and guide to mythical creatures great and small. Now, let me show you. Throughout millennia, across all cultures, one infamous mythical beast has pervaded. A shapeshifting monster that prowls beneath the moonlight feasting on human flesh, the werewolf. Now, did you know that werewolves were inspired by... wolves? Shocking, I know. The earliest mention of human-to-wolf transformation goes back over 4,000 years to the Babylonian poem, The Epic of Gilgamesh. Here, Ishtar, the goddess of love and war, transformed her suitor into a wolf, because, why not? Over in ancient Greece, the poet Hesiod told of King Lycaon, who wanted to trick Zeus, king of the gods, by serving him up human meat. Zeus, being a god, immediately knew what the king was up to and, furious at his savagery, turned Lycaon into a wolf. Back then, though, these wolf-man myths rarely saw the beast as villainized as it would later become. Fast forward to 15th century Europe, and the sheep business had started to boom, or bleat, becoming a major source of industry and income. As such, wolves were increasingly feared for their tendency to prey on livestock. As this fear grew, it developed into a greater fear of werewolves. The church jumped on the myth, linking the werewolf to witchcraft and satanic worship, and kicking off werewolf trials across Western Europe. Back then, people believed that werewolves used magical skins, salves, or belts to turn into wolf form and commit their wicked crimes. Some even confessed to it. Take the case of 16th century farmer Peter Stampp from Bedburg, Germany. Legend has it that he engaged in unspeakable acts like cannibalism and, when caught, claimed, albeit under duress, that the devil had gifted him a wolfskin belt, giving him the ability to transform. Fortunately, there's no solid evidence that werewolves exist, no remains of wolf-human hybrids have ever been found, and those who claim to be werewolves probably either suffered from mental illness or were forced into confessing. And yet even today, so-called werewolves are still being spotted. Take the Beast of Bray Road, first sighted in the rural outskirts of Elkhorn, Wisconsin in 1936. Reports described a black, hairy wolf creature about six to seven feet tall that looked something like this. Creepy! And across the pond in Hull, Yorkshire, there's Old Stinker, a wolf-like creature known for its pungent smell that was spotted as recently as 2016, though much of what we consider to be genuine werewolf lore comes from relatively recent pop culture. The idea that a werewolf spreads its curse through biting almost certainly comes from the 1935 horror Werewolf of London, whereas the image of a werewolf transforming during a full moon originates from the 1943 horror crossover Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman. Now, there's a mountain of theories about what may have started the werewolf myth in the first place. Some say it stems from early humans who donned the wolfskins while hunting for camouflage and to invoke the spirit of the animal. Others have tried to put it down to a medical condition like ergo-poisoning from eating rotten crops, which causes hallucinations. Or there's hypotrichosis, a rare condition that causes excess hair growth. Some, like Redditor 3tskrote, nice name, wondered whether the bodies of bears like this decaying one may have inspired the myth. Regardless, no one theory has ever been proven as the true source of werewolves. The myth is so ubiquitous it's become rooted in human culture, tapping into a shared fear that's haunted us for centuries and forever will. Another beast you don't want to mess with comes from Northern Europe, the brutish but dim-witted troll. These creatures are everywhere in Scandinavian folklore and have become a regular part of popular culture, as well as the name for an unfortunate subsection of the internet. The trolls of myth are humanoid creatures that can range from mountain-sized giants to smaller than human. They make their homes in mountains, forests and rivers and transform into stone at the touch of sunlight. But is there any truth behind these myths? Have we found any gigantic skulls lying around Scandinavia? I had my hopes up until I realized that particular pic is just a prop from the 2022 movie, Troll. That said, there could be something to it. As long as 65,000 or even 100,000 years ago, early humans would have encountered similar creatures, the Neanderthals. These were heavy-boned people with pronounced brows and broad, fleshy noses. Sound familiar? They lived across all of Eurasia and stories of these strange, elusive beings may have been passed down, growing in stature and detail until they became the troll myths of today. But that's not all. Ever heard of changelings? In European folklore, the word refers to a supernatural being left by a creature like a fairy or troll as a substitute for a kidnapped human baby. Could this fear have roots in early humans mating with Neanderthals and producing hybrid children? The truth is in our blood. Humans outside of Africa share about 2% of their genetics with these ancient people, and even modern Africans share 0.2%, which is wild considering Neanderthals didn't even live in Africa. Huh, so I'm part troll? That explains why I can't stand going out in the sunlight. Okay, this theory definitely checks out. Trolls and Neanderthals are both dumb, right? Actually, wrong. The oldest reference to a troll comes from the 13th century Prose Edda, a classic of Norse mythology. The scene opens on a poet traveling through a forest at night where he comes across an old troll woman who speaks with lyricism and intellect. Cavemen weren't grunting brutes either. Neanderthals were actually incredibly intelligent, possessed a rich culture, and were skilled toolmakers just like us. Looks like cavemen are the ones getting trolled. For all two of you who haven't watched the Harry Potter movies, there's a magical bird in them called Fox, a phoenix. This is a stunning creature from myth with purple, red, and gold feathers. It lives for 500 years and, when its time is done, bursts into flames and is reborn from the ashes. The phoenix myth made its way into Western culture from ancient Egypt thanks to the Greek writer Herodotus. In the 5th century BC, he wrote histories where he chronicled his travels into the east. On his journey, he visited the Egyptian city of Heliopolis, the city of the sun dedicated to Ra, the sun god. There, Herodotus spoke to temple priests who told him of Bino, a divine heron and symbol of the sun, creation, and rebirth. Bino, in turn, may have been inspired by a real-life heron species native to Egypt, like the gray heron. And on returning to Greece, Herodotus named Bino the phoenix, describing it as an eagle-like bird. Although at this point, there was no mention of Bino's or the phoenix's ability to burst into flames. Over the centuries, phoenix legends spread across the Western world like wildfire and became particularly popular in early Christian Europe. In 96 AD, Pope Clement I used the phoenix's powers of rebirth as evidence for Jesus' resurrection, except in his version, the bird rotted away, leaving a little worm that grows into a new phoenix. The image of a phoenix emerging from ashes wouldn't appear until much later in the 4th century, when the Latin poet Claudian described an old phoenix being ignited by the sun's rays, this being the version that endures today. Good job! The sight of a worm creeping out phoenix decaying body wouldn't have been quite as cute. Way back in 79 AD, the Roman author Pliny the Elder wrote of a soldier in Libya who came across a small venomous snake. He slew it with a spear only for its blood to pour down his weapon and touch his hand. When it did, it seared his flesh and spread throughout his body. In moments, his life was over. This snake was the basilisk, a beast so venomous it could slaughter its prey with a mere glare. It had a crown-like growth of spikes, and the only way to defeat it was with the smell of a weasel? Okay! During the medieval period, artists transformed this crown into a rooster's comb, and the basilisk gained a new name, the cockatrice. The two names became interchangeable, but its appearance varied wildly, from a serpent to a monstrous rooster-reptile mishmash. Over time, though, the beast, in all its forms, became a symbol of evil likened to Satan himself. At the turn of the 17th century, German writer Johann Pinciere described one of the most famous accounts of the creature. It begins in Warsaw, Poland in 1587, where a foul basilisk was supposedly found lurking in a cellar, having already finished off two victims. A local physician dressed a convicted criminal up in a mirror-covered suit in order to reflect the beast's deadly gaze and sent him down to face it. Against all odds, the convict returned victorious with the basilisk in hand. Pinciere claimed that the creature was a reptilian bird, with a cockerel's head, bulging toad eyes, a crown-like crest, and a putrid smell. He didn't mention what happened to the body after. Whatever it was, real or not, it's probably long gone by now. While the exact truth of the Warsaw Count remains unclear, we can explain the rest. Early Europeans that made the trip to North Africa may have been inspired by real venomous snakes like the Egyptian cobra, one of the region's deadliest serpents, and spread word back home. While common in Europe, they hardly ever showed up in medieval bestiaries, while basilisks appeared all over the place. So perhaps these snakes were misidentified? And although grass snakes are non-venomous, they do produce a foul smell when threatened, just like the basilisk. I don't know, seems a little far-fetched to me, but this was a long time ago. As for the whole weasel thing, it's possible the idea was inspired by stories of mongooses defeating snakes, a fairly common occurrence. Speaking of prey, imagine a field mouse scurrying through the undergrowth, then, before it knows it, bam! It's snatched up in the talons of a hawk. Sucks to be a mouse, I guess. Now imagine instead of that bird carrying off a mouse, it was carrying off an elephant. This is the rock. No, not him. A bird of colossal proportions, first recounted by Arab traders 700 years ago. This mythical creature has since made its way into various tales, most famously the second voyage of Simba the sailor, where the titular hero discovered rock eggs the size of houses. The 13th-century Venetian explorer Marco Polo wrote of how the then-emperor of China, Kublai Khan, requested proof of their existence and was subsequently presented with a giant feather. So should we be nervously watching this, guys, for gigantic birds? No need. In reality, the giant feather was probably just a palm leaf. Polo also speculated that the rock might come from Madagascar and other East African islands, and he wasn't far off. Apiornis could well have inspired it. These huge Madagascan birds went extinct around the 1500s but were very much alive in Polo's time. They stood 9 feet tall, weighed over half a ton, and laid eggs nearly 3 feet wide, the largest of any animal ever, even dinosaurs. So the sailors who reported the giant bird could have been recounting tales of Apiornis, albeit with a few exaggerations here and there. Although big, they certainly weren't big enough to carry off elephants. Besides, they couldn't even fly. And unlike the mythical rock, they were seemingly hunted to extinction. But elephant birds aren't the only culprit for the rock's legend. The giant creature also has roots in the Hindu stories of Garuda, who first appeared in the 2nd millennium BC. Garuda was the king of birds and steed of the god Vishnu, sometimes depicted as a giant bird of prey or a human-bird hybrid, and hunted giant snakes and elephants, just like the rock. That's what I call poultry in motion. That's a thing of nightmares. Luckily, we have the Baku. This spirit from Chinese and Japanese mythology literally feasts on bad dreams. Although it looks like something out of a nightmare itself, comprised of a bear's body, tiger's paws, an ox's tail, rhino's eyes, and an elephant's trunk. But be warned, if the Baku isn't satisfied after devouring your nightmares, it'll suck up your hopes and dreams too and leave you as nothing but a hollow shell. Ugh, crikey. Okay, I take that back, what I said about it being my favorite. Fortunately, the Baku is purely supernatural. You won't be finding any remains of this thing. However, that doesn't mean it wasn't inspired by a very real animal. I bet it was the Asian tapir. These adorable herbivorous mammals have trunk noses and toed feet, just like the mythical beast. Although now extinct in China, evidence suggests the tapirs once roamed the southern regions alongside humans around 2200 years ago. They must be the inspiration, right? Well, it might not be so simple. Let's go back to the 3rd century China, where we meet an altogether different creature called the Mo, a bear-like beast with jaws so powerful it could chew metal. Only it turns out Mo is just what the Chinese used to call the giant panda. Ah, okay, but what's the Mo got to do with Bakus? Well, in the 9th century, Mo's were popularized slash sensationalized by poet Bai Jue, who depicted them as hybrid beasts with an elephant's face that could ward off sickness and evil. And we got the Baku we now know between the 14th and 15th centuries, just when Jue's trunk-faced, evil-warding Mo entered Japanese culture. Coincidence? I think not. Jump to modern times and the Baku has taken on a more tapir-like image. In Japanese, the word itself actually refers to both the mythical creature and real animal. For our next card, I'll tell you a story. Once upon a time in 1735 in Estillville, New Jersey, USA, poor Mother Leeds was expecting her 13th child. This one, however, was unwanted. In exasperation, she cursed the unborn baby, shouting, let this one be the devil. When the child finally arrived, it initially seemed like a normal newborn, but then something horrifying happened. Horns burst from its skull, wings sprouted from its back, its face stretched into a snout, and its feet became hooves. And so the Jersey Devil was born. A towering, horse-like demon over six feet tall. With a raspy squeal, it flapped its wings and flew up the chimney to the nearby Pine Barrens, leaving behind its horrified mother. This is just one of the creature's many origin stories, and it's said to have haunted New Jersey for centuries. Heck, Joseph Bonaparte, brother of the French General Napoleon, supposedly spotted the devil while out hunting. Even today, sightings of this creepy cryptid are still reported. Locals claim to have spotted strange tracks and found massacred farm animals, with at one point as much as $100,000 being offered for the devil's capture, dead or alive. Though no one succeeded at catching it in either state. See, in reality, an actual creature the size of a horse would need some absolutely monstrous wings to get off the ground, far bigger than we see in depictions of the beast, making its existence highly unlikely. Though that fact hasn't stopped people from trying to prove otherwise. In 1909, a Philadelphia businessman claimed to have captured the devil only for it to be a kangaroo painted green with glued-on wings. Other animals may have also been misidentified as the Jersey Devil over the years. Some have pointed to the Sandhill Crane, since it stands nearly four feet tall, has a six-feet-wide wingspan, and can be ferocious when cornered. And some on the internet insist that the Hammerhead Bat is behind the myth. With their unusual boxy heads and leathery wings, they definitely looked the part. One problem though, these bats only live in Central Africa, not New Jersey. In fact, the devil could actually be an invention of a former president. See, scholars Brian Riegel and Frank Esposito trace the creature's origins back to the Leeds family in colonial Burlington, New Jersey. Back in 1687, Daniel Leeds, a Quaker, sparked controversy by publishing his almanac, the Temple of Wisdom. This was filled with heretical astrology and metaphysical ideas, ruffling the feathers of his church and community, and leading him to be branded as evil. After his death, his son, the brilliantly named Titan Leeds, took over the almanac business, but faced ridicule from none other than future founding father, Benjamin Franklin. Franklin spread a hoax in his rival annual Poor Richard's Almanac, claiming Titan was the spawn of Satan. Over time, these rumors may have transformed into the Jersey Devil myth. Wait, so the president was a fake news-spreading bully? Interesting. That said, there's no historical evidence linking Titan Leeds and Mother Leeds of the folktale. Another theory goes that when colonizers first arrived in New Jersey, they would have heard stories from the indigenous people like the Lenape. Quaker settlers may have absorbed those stories of spirits and figures of Lenape belief and then reappropriated them into demonic monsters. Now, we've all fallen for a bit of catfishing. Once I went on a date with a woman who turned out to be a seal. Not surprising, really. This was when I was living in Scotland. Things like that happen all the time. See, in Celtic and Scandinavian folklore, there are mythical beings called Selkies. Most of the time, they look like ordinary seals, but every so often, they come ashore at night, shed their seal skins, and reveal their beautiful human forms. Legends state that humans, usually men, would spy this bizarre ritual and, beguiled by the Selkie women, would hide her seal skin, trapping her on land. The two would marry, but inevitably, the Selkie would always find her seal skin, turn back into a seal, and return to the waters, never to be seen again. Jeez, I'm glad this doesn't happen in the real world, right? Well, don't be so sure. In 1890, folklorist David McRitchie speculated that in the early 18th century, Orkney and Shetland settlers encountered and even married visiting sailors called Fenmen. These people were probably Inuit from the Davis Strait in North America, who wore seal skins and used them to cover their kayaks for warmth and buoyancy. Once on shore, Fenmen would shed their skins and leave them to dry out in the sun before setting off again. Now, picture what Scottish onlookers saw when they were peeking over cliffs, seals transfiguring into humans. At least, kinda. The Selkie myth may also have come about as a way of explaining a rare medical condition, syndactyly. This is when two or more digits are fused together by skin or bone, making a person's hands or feet look a bit like flippers. Something that apparently affected one Scottish clan who claimed they were descendants of Selkies. So, do you think the Selkie myth was born from seal-clad visitors, medical conditions, or something else entirely? Make sure to let me know down below. Legend says that in 6th century BC China, a woman named Yinzhen Zhai was pregnant when she received a visit from a fantastical creature. This beast had the body of an elk, a face like a dragon, scales like a blue fish, and fire bursting from parts of its body. As it approached, it coughed up a jade tablet. Gross. But when Yinzhen read the tablet's inscription, she discovered her future child's destiny. He would become the philosopher Confucius, one of East Asia's most influential thinkers. The strange creature that foresaw his greatness was the qilin, a symbol of purity and benevolence in Chinese mythology, a bit like the western unicorn. Now in the 1400s, Emperor Yongle returned from Bengal in 1414 with many wonders, including a special gift from the Bengali king, one that almost fit the bill. It was a giant qilin with a patterned coat, antler-like horns, and a very, very long neck. And by that I mean it was no qilin at all, the creature was actually a giraffe that had been taken from Kenya. Looking up at this marvelous beast, Yongle probably knew that it wasn't the qilin of myth and even downplayed the link, but the rumor persisted due to the animal's calm demeanor and unusual appearance. Although there's no evidence that these animals inspired the qilin myth, I'm afraid no one in China stumbled across the bodies of any blue giraffes. They've certainly become intertwined with it. Today, the word for qilin in Korean, kirin, and Japanese, kirin, are also used for giraffe. Must be nice being a giraffe, all tall and slim. See? Some days I worry about not having much of a jaw, but hey, it could be worse. I could not have much of a head. Bring on the blemish. A strange race that mostly resemble humans except for one slight difference. Instead of a head, their faces are smack bang in the middle of their torsos. The myth begins with the one and only Herodotus, who was told of headless creatures with eyes in their chest said to inhabit western Libya. Across the centuries, numerous writers reported these creatures living in some far-off land unfamiliar to medieval Europeans. However, it wasn't until the first century AD that Roman geographer Pomponius Mela named them Blemish. Funnily enough, there was a group of people from Egypt and Sudan known as the Blemish who flourished from the third century BC to eighth century AD. Shockingly though, they probably had normal heads. Indeed, no one's certain where the headless myth came from. They might have carried shields decorated with painted faces or worn chest armor or may have just marched with their heads tucked down low. The legend might also have popularized for a more nefarious reason, so the medieval church could cast people outside Christendom as the barely human other. Having said that, another theory I've seen online goes that the mythical creatures were confused with bonobos. These apes are found in rainforests along the south bank of the Congo River and they sometimes sit with their faces hunched over and their heads close to their chests. Hmm, I'm not convinced. See, legends of people with torso faces aren't limited to stories from European travelers visiting far-off lands. A Chinese work, Classics of Mountains and Seas, compiled sometime between the third century BC and second century AD, mentions the god Xingtian, who looks just like a Blemish. And in Japan, there's the donosora, a yokai, a type of supernatural being who's also a headless visage torso. I'm not sure I can stomach any more faces! Good dang, we've come to the end. Which mythical beast was your favorite? If you enjoyed this, don't forget to check out the first mythical creatures that actually exist in real life video. Thanks for watching everyone, I'll see you next time!