Borderland Beasts
Mystery predators of the British countryside and their possible origins.
Sometime around 2011, my Mother came home from the local charity shop with a book called ‘The Beast of Exmoor and Other Mystery Predators of Britain’ by Di Frances. I’ve heard stories about mysterious big cats on the prowl around my local area of Exmoor for many years, and secretly I hoped to glimpse one as I walked home from school or while I was exploring the countryside on a nice walk, perhaps as it was crossing the path ahead of me before disappearing into a hedge.
As I carefully opened the book to take my first excited glimpse inside, a piece of old folded paper slipped out, stained with age and creased. When I opened it to see what it was, I was stunned by what I saw- It was a memorandum, formally typed as a private message from one Mr. M. Webb to Mr. A. Hill, dated 28th June 1995.
In the letter, Webb makes some very interesting claims about what he calls ‘The Moggy of Meeth’, warning Mr. Hill of the creature.
“Following my recent visit to Meeth pit I would like to inform you of a rather unusual discovery…(In the woods) I discovered various pieces of evidence for my find…Firstly, droppings, followed by territorial marking ‘sprays’ up trees, then the mauled carcass of a roe-deer with obvious signs of a big cat kill ie. it was dragged up 12m into the canopy of an oak tree…I recommend contact with the lion keeper of Dudley immediately…I would recommend for your own safety that you place a yellow filter over your torch. This idea came from the French who paint their headlamps yellow. It must work as I’ve never heard of a French man being dragged out of a vehicle by a big cat on the Paris-Dakar rally…”
This letter captured my curiosity. I could not find out anything more to do with the ‘Moggy of Meeth’ or indeed the person who wrote the letter, who also had signed his name on the inner page of the book containing the letter itself. Was he simply drawing from the information in the text to fool his colleague? Or did he keep a copy of the letter inside of the book as he investigated the subject area after his own encounter?
Whatever the truth, I was now invested in finding out more. I have been collecting stories of these mysterious big cats (or Alien Big Cats, aka. ABCs) ever since then- they are an enigma that teases us with scraps of evidence and fleeting sightings that only add fuel to the flame of curiosity. I cannot say anything for certain about them, but I can present a few ideas about what they seem to align with. There are naturalists, farmers and witnesses who truly believe that they exist. In fact, there have been cases across Great Britain where beasts such as a Lynxes have been captured or killed, putting an end to sightings of ABCs. Sometimes, they are simply escaped zoo animals or exotic (illegal) pets. Other times, their exact origins are unknown. It is easy to believe that the vast countryside could provide enough food and shelter to remain hidden from us and thrive.
Webb’s encounter echoes another tale I heard from the Blackdown hills, which I like to call ‘The Bracken Beast’.
One owl-light evening on the Blackdown hills, a young man left his friend’s home after spending the better part of the day together, sharing stories and telling jokes, as friends do.
It was a short walk back to his house, down a countryside lane, bordered high on each side by bracken bushes that quivered in the slight breeze. As he left, he felt a strange sensation come over him- perhaps it was just the abrupt silence of the rural landscape, he thought. He trudged home carrying a dim torch in his hand that lit the pothole riddled path ahead in a yellow beam. The sound of crunching gravel did nothing to rid him of the odd sensation of eerie stillness. Even breaking into a light song to stun the silence didn’t help. What he was feeling was an ancient fear, a primeval sense of being watched.
About half a mile from home, he felt the urge to turn around. As he did, something dark shifted behind the bushes next to him where the foot of a hill lay. Something seemed darkly visible through the brambles. Was it stalking him? He thought that if it wished to pounce, it could do so easily, pinning him with no escape. He searched around the edges of the path for a nice sturdy stick, one that could, in theory, beat away any threat that came his way.
Whatever the shape was, it kept pace with him. He quickened his pace, and he ran and ran, barely able to make out the pits in the gravel and blind turns ahead of him. Pale eyes catching the flailing torch beam chased him relentlessly down the path, bounding silently behind obscuring thorns and ivy. It was toying with him, delaying what may have been the inevitable.
Before his lungs collapsed, the merciful light of home shone upon the horizon. Never had he sprinted with such dedication, not even on Sports Day at school. Somehow he made it, grabbing the front door handle and slamming it shut quickly as he entered, startling his mother. Once inside, he took a final breathless glance again out of the cobweb veiled windows to see only blackness, which was a comfort to him.
The next morning, after retelling the tale of what happened once the rush of adrenaline had passed, he investigated in broad daylight. No trace could be found, initially, of the predatory stalker, so he thankfully put it down to an overactive imagination, one probably fuelled by the stories of ghosts and ghouls shared with his friend the night before. He chuckled to himself with relief.
What was more difficult to explain was the horrid smell that blew past him from the woodlands, like something congealed and rotten, with a slightly metallic finish. It made his stomach groan with fear and disgust, yet he still followed the scent, carefully stepping over fallen branches and nettles as he inched into the woodland. It was probably trespassing, but he didn't care. The smell grew stronger.
After about 20 meters, he seemed to lose the scent. Yet another lost lead, which again was a relief. However, on the return trip, he noticed something new on one of the tree trunks- deep cuts like those of a scratching post. Then, there was buzzing, a wooly static that sent quivers up his spine. As he looked up into the branches, there were flies swarming enthusiastically over something that cast a skeletal shadow from high on the branches of the scarred old tree...
The remains of a deer.
When we put aside the argument that these creatures are flesh and blood, we're left with another aspect of their mystery that remains unanswered, something which seems to align with much more mysterious beliefs. I believe that yes, while there are surely some cases of actual creatures who have escaped into the wild and may live their own secluded lives on the vast British landscape, preying on cattle and deer, there are also many other strange sightings which feel like they cannot be explained in such a way. I feel that the matter is too complex for one simple definition, which leaves other possibilities open for discussion...
More to follow next month!