A face only a 49,000,017 year old mother could love.

Not necessarily crypto, but anything involving giant spiders of yore are interesting enough to be blarghed about. Not to mention, they are xraying amber these days to find this stuff and generate models for us to look at. My spidey sense is telling me we are well on our way to a Jurassic Park/Cloverfield situation.

Basically, back in the 1800's they found a sweet chunk of amber in which, at the time, they assumed this was a Huntsman spider, but didn't really have a way of confirming that knowledge, plus "modern researchers thought it strange that such a large, active spider would get trapped in tree resin." So this particular spider was probably quite slow, not all there, possibly the blight in his intelligent spider family's tree.

Nowadays they have xray technology that makes it possible for us to make fun Youtube videos with the generated 3D image they capture.

If you had concerns about the Huntsman haunting your dreams at night, it has been said that they are not poisonous to humans, despite their large size. However, they do have an extremely painful bite, so please consider this before time traveling.

source

Local Legends: The Lambton Worm

I originally posted this on personal blog, so massive apologies for reusing content, but I thought this particular item would be of equal interest over here and wanted to share with you.

I’m always interested in local folklore, especially if it involves monsters and other exciting spooky stuff. Most places, no matter how small, seem to have some manner of fascinating tale relating to beasts that lurk in their surrounding area, ghosts that haunt their old buildings and all kinds of other odd goings on. I certainly to hope to discover more of them so if you have any from your local towns please, please let me know.

I’m from the North East of England, and us UK north easteners are notoriously a chatty bunch, we’re natural storytellers, spinners of yarns and voyagers on flights of fancy. You can wile away hours in any given North Eastern pub simply by striking up a conversation with a local resident (for best results seek an elder patron) and allowing yourself to regaled with the most fantastical tall tales and enthralling anecdotes. I myself have done this often, and have frequently heard a story so amazing that I have been compelled to tell the purveyor of wonder that I will be forced to steal that particular tale and tell it myself, and such is the glory of the oral tradition.

Yes, us North Easterner folk love a story and I think it’s fairly safe to say that The Lambton Worm is a tale that has a special place in our hearts and is probably the most famous of the fables from our region. The legend of The Lambton Worm has been told and retold evolving from oral tradition through the written word and even into song and pantomime form. So, whisht, lads, haad yor gobs an' aa'll tell ye aall an aaful story…..

Young whippersnapper, and heir to Lambton Hall, John Lambton, decided one particular fine Sunday morn that his time would be far better employed on a fishing trip rather than by going to church like a good lad. So, while all the other townsfolk were dutifully attending mass in Brugeford Chapel, John was parked by the River Wear dangling his rod in its murky depths (that sounds entirely more filthy than is really necessary, I apologise).

For a long time John sat without so much as a nibble, but then, all of a sudden, his line was jolted with a terrific force. Naturally assuming that he’d landed the catch of the century, John excitedly set about reeling in the tremendous beast, but the task proved harder than he could have imagined. But steadfast, John refused to give up his prize without a fight and bracing himself against the riverbank he laboured for a seeming eternity until, finally, just as the sheer exertion was threatening to claim him, his line popped free from the water and he landed his magnificent catch on the bank by his feet. Somewhat amazed, young John peered down at creature his efforts had lain before him and saw to his surprise that it wasn’t even nearly the mighty fish he had been expecting. At his feet lay a black wormlike animal, and it was small, astonishingly small for something that had presented him with so much trouble to land. While John contemplated his catch the creature slithered and coiled in the mud beside him and venturing a closer examination John could see that its jaws were indeed mighty, and, he noted, lined with rows of razor sharp teeth that, although small, looked fearsome and deadly.

Just as John was preparing to throw the disappointing, and decidedly unpleasant, brute back into the river he became aware of a presence behind him and turned to find an old man eyeing the creature and crossing himself furiously. When John asked him what was wrong the old man said that he must not throw the creature back t the river, that it would bode badly for young John, but at all costs he must keep the beast and not return it to the river. Obediently, if a little startled, John duly picked up the black worm and cast it into his basket, but as he turned back to question the man further he found he was alone on the riverbank and the old fellow was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly a feeling of deep unease overwhelmed John and the more he looked at the worm the more he knew he must be free of it. The old man’s warning had unnerved him enough not to consider risking returning it to the river, but as he walked home he spotted an old well and seized the opportunity to rid himself of his slithery burden.

For years all was quiet and John Lambton never gave a thought to peculiar creature he had caught that day. But, unbeknownst to our hero all the while the worm was wallowing in the murk of the well, becoming strong and growing, growing and growing Years later while John was off fighting in the crusades villagers began to notice that there was something very wrong with the well. It became apparent that the water was poisoned and unusable and at night eerie vapours were seen rising nefariously from the mouth of the well. As is natural in these situations, the villagers sagely decided that the well had clearly been claimed by an evil force and was now cursed as a result.

Surprisingly it turned out the villagers were absolutely right as early one morning it was discovered that the full grown worm had crawled from its gloomy home and had lain waste to the surrounding farms savagely feeding on all livestock it could find leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. To their horror they also saw that the creature heavy and bloated from its night’s feast had coiled its massive bulk about a rocky outcrop close to the river of its terrible birth.

News swiftly spread through the village and surrounding areas and filled the region with fear and dread. For a while the beast remained still and silent, some of the very brave even dared to creep closer to catch a glimpse of the razor toothed terror, but this relative peace was not to last and all too soon the creature became ravenous once more and embarked upon another bloody rampage devouring everything that lay in its path. The villagers were terrified, but something had to be done, some brave souls banded together to attempt to slay the beast but all who tried were immediately torn to shreds by the worm’s savage teeth or brutally crushed in its mighty coils.

Eventually the beast made its way to Lambton Hall where now only the lord resided. Fortunately the villagers were quick to react and managed to distract creature with offerings of the fattest livestock left alive. And so the ritual began that would last for seven long years, again and again the villagers would sacrifice what livestock they could muster to keep the worm in a sated slumber and prevent it from feasting on all who dwelled there.

When seven whole years had passed John Lambton finally returned from the crusades and saw the terrible fate that had befallen his village. Wracked with tremendous guilt he resolved there and then that he would destroy the evil creature himself and free his people from its servitude. To prepare himself for this dangerous task he visited the local wise woman. Aware of his culpability the wise woman confirmed for John that was indeed his duty to slay the beast, she advised his to seek the blacksmith and have a suit of armour crafted that was wrought with sharpened spearheads at every inch of its surface and then once clad in this new fearsome attire he must lie in wait for the worm at its rocky lair. Convinced by her words John nodded his acquiescence, but, just as he was about to run straight to the blacksmith, the woman’s face darkened and she seized his shoulder with a startling strength. Looking him square in the eye and with a gravity that chilled John to his very core she warned him that if should slay the beast he must then also put to death the first living thing he sees following the act and if failed that task then three times three generations of Lambtons would die badly.

Knowing she spoke the truth John ran as fast he could to the blacksmith’s forge and tasked him to craft his suit. The blacksmith worked tirelessly all through that night and by morning the armour was ready and as John emerged from the forge a crowd of villagers had gathered to cheer their hero and as he passed through them he swore to himself that he would be victorious. 

For what seemed like an age John waited, but there was no sign of the worm. He waited and waited and then, just as he was giving up hope, the creature finally emerged raising its enormous, vicious head from the depths of the river a rapacious glint colouring its cold eyes. Without time to think John charged towards the water his sword held high and so began a long the violent battle between man and beast.  It soon became apparent that every time the creature attempted to wrap John in its coils or crush him in its maw it was only succeeding in tearing itself up on the razors of the armour. John then knew that if he had the strength to endure the attacks for long enough then all he had to do was wait for the creature to be sufficiently weak and then he could slaughter it and put an end to its tyranny. Steeling his resolve John braced himself for the extensive battle he knew faced. And on the pair raged the sky darkening around them, until, eventually, the last of its strength spent the worm slumped onto the riverbank. Exhausted John struggled to its side and with the last ounce of energy remaining in his aching body plunged his blade right into its heart and blew three sharp blasts on his horn to signal to the servants at the hall to release a hound in order he could complete his vow. But, the joy of victory was short-lived as on hearing the blasts Jon’s father, the lord, was so overcome with delight he rushed to greet his son as he crossed into the hall’s grounds. Devastated John turned away and slew the hound, but it was too late, the vow was broken, the worm was defeated and his people free but for generations none of the Lambtons would die a good death.

Penshaw Monument; where the worm is said to rest

The legend of the The Lambton Worm has even done its best to extend beyond its northern folktale status and into more mainstream culture. In 1911 Bram Stoker’s The Lair of the White Worm was published and I think its fair to say that the story borrows heavily from our humble local worm, and of course, who can forget that Ken Russell turned Stoker’s novel into his 1988 classic of the same name. I you haven’t seen Russell’s Lair of the White Worm you must, it’s mental and awesome. You can also hear a few repeated bars of the Lambton Worm song near the end within the melody  Peter Capaldi’s character Angus is plays on the bagpipes to lure the acolytes.     

You can listen to The Lambton Worm song here. And here are the lyrics so you can sing along at home.

One Sunday morn young Lambton Went a-fishin' in the Wear; An' catched a fish upon his huek, He thowt leuk't varry queer, But whatt'n a kind a fish it was Young Lambton couldn't tell. He waddn't fash to carry it hyem, So he hoyed it in a well.

Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, Aa'll tell ye aall and aaful story,
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, An' Aal tell ye 'bout the worm.

Noo Lambton felt inclined to gan An' fight in foreign wars. He joined a troop o' Knights that cared For neither wounds nor scars, An' off he went to Palestine Where queer things him befel, An' varry seun forgot aboot The queer worm i' the well.

Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, Aa'll tell ye aall and aaful story,
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, An' Aal tell ye 'bout the worm.

But the worm got fat an' growed an' growed, An' growed an aaful size; He'd greet big teeth, a greet big gob, An' greet big goggle eyes. An' when at neets he craaled aboot To pick up bits o'news, If he felt dry upon the road, He milked a dozen coos.

Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, Aa'll tell ye aall and aaful story,
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, An' Aal tell ye 'bout the worm.

This feorful worm wad often feed On calves an' lambs an' sheep, An' swally little bairns alive When they laid doon to sleep. An' when he'd eaten aal he cud An' he had has he's fill, He craaled away an' lapped his tail Seven times roond Pensher Hill.

Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, Aa'll tell ye aall and aaful story,
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, An' Aal tell ye 'bout the worm.

The news of this most aaful worm An' his queer gannins on Seun crossed the seas, gat to the ears Of brave an' bowld Sir John. So hyem he cam an' catched the beast An' cut 'im in three halves, An' that seun stopped he's eatin' bairns, An' sheep an' lambs and calves.

Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, Aa'll tell ye aall and aaful story,
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, An' Aal tell ye 'bout the worm.

So noo ye knaa hoo aall the folks On byeth sides of the Wear Lost lots o' sheep an' lots o' sleep An' lived in mortal feor. So let's hev one to brave Sir John That kept the bairns frae harm Saved coos an' calves by myekin' haalves O' the famis Lambton Worm

Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, Aa'll tell ye aall and aaful story,
Whisht! lads, haad yor gobs, An' Aal tell ye 'bout the worm.

Noo lads, Aa'll haad me gob, That's aall Aa knaa aboot the story Of Sir John's clivvor job Wi' the aaful Lambton Worm!

 Honestly, those are the words. Because I’m helpful like that I shall now translate for those of you unfamiliar the local dialect

One Sunday morning young Lambton went fishing in the Wear; and caught a fish upon his hook, He thought it looked very queer, but what manner of fish it was Young Lambton couldn't tell. He could not be bothered to carry it home, so he threw it in a well.

Hush, gentlemen, hold your tongues, And I will tell you all an awful story,

Hush, gentlemen, hold your tongues, and I will tell you about the worm.

Now Lambton felt inclined to go and fight in foreign wars. He joined a troop of' Knights that cared for neither wounds nor scars, and off he went to Palestine where queer things befell him, and very soon forgot about the queer worm in the well.

Repeat chorus

But the worm got fat and grew and grew, and grew an awful size; He had great big teeth, a great big mouth, and great big goggle eyes. And when at nights he crawled about to pick up bits of news, if he felt dry upon the road, he milked a dozen cows.

Repeat chorus

This fearful worm wouldd often feed on calves and lambs and sheep, and swallowed little children alive when they laid down to sleep. And when he'd eaten all he could and he had eaten his fill, he crawled away and lapped his tail seven times round Penshaw Hill.

Repeat chorus

The news of this most awful worm and his queer goings on soon crossed the seas and got to the ears of brave and bold Sir John. So home he came and caught the beast and cut him in three halves, and that soon stopped eating children, and sheep and lambs and calves.

Repeat chorus

So now you know how all the folks on both sides of the Wear Lost lots of sheep and lots of sleep and lived in mortal fear. So let us drink to brave Sir John that kept the children from harm saved cows and calves by cutting in half the famous Lambton Worm

Repeat chorus

Now gentlemen, I’ll hold my tongue because that is all I know about the story of Sir John's clever job with the awful Lambton Worm!

If Wishes Were Megalodons

I love sharks. I love them in movies, in books, in documentaries, heck, I’d probably even love them in real life, at a safe distance, from dry land maybe, with someone slower and weaker than myself ten feet in front of me, just in case, but my appalling cowardice aside,  sharks are great, few things are better than sharks. But I’ll tell you one thing that could be better than a shark. A bloody great, massive prehistoric shark!



I particularly like how the diagrammatic man is giving a nonchalant wave. Well hello, have you met my increasingly massive sharks?



The Megalodon (Carcharodon megalodon) is an extinct species of shark that lived roughly from 28 to 1.5 million years ago. Fossil remains suggest that this giant shark could reach lengths of in excess of 52ft (16 metres). In essence, the Megalodon was a ruddy big shark. The Megalodon has intrigued scientists and cryptozoologists for years. But it’s extinct, right? Hmmm, maybe not.

Intrigued scientists

Here is possibly the most famous reported Megalodon encounter taken from David G. Stead’s Sharks and Rays of Australian Seas, 1963, Stead, an Australian marine biologist, ichthyologist, oceanographer, conservationist and writer and therefore surely credible investigator into such matters, details the instance as it was told to him by those involved.

‘In the year 1918 I recorded the sensation that had been caused among the "outside" crayfish men at Port Stephens, when, for several days, they refused to go to sea to their regular fishing grounds in the vicinity of Broughton Island. The men had been at work on the fishing grounds--which lie in deep water--when an immense shark of almost unbelievable proportions put in an appearance, lifting pot after pot containing many crayfishes, and taking, as the men said, "pots, mooring lines and all." These crayfish pots, it should be mentioned, were about 3 feet 6 inches in diameter and frequently contained from two to three dozen good-sized crayfish each weighing several pounds. The men were all unanimous that this shark was something the like of which they had never dreamed of. In company with the local Fisheries Inspector I questioned many of the men very closely and they all agreed as to the gigantic stature of the beast. But the lengths they gave were, on the whole, absurd. I mention them, however, as an indication of the state of mind which this unusual giant had thrown them into. And bear in mind that these were men who were used to the sea and all sorts of weather, and all sorts of sharks as well. One of the crew said the shark was "three hundred feet long at least"! Others said it was as long as the wharf on which we stood--about 115 feet! They affirmed that the water "boiled" over a large space when the fish swam past. They were all familiar with whales, which they had often seen passing at sea, but this was a vast shark. They had seen its terrible head which was "at least as long as the roof on the wharf shed at Nelson's Bay." Impossible, of course! But these were prosaic and rather stolid men, not given to 'fish stories' nor even to talking about their catches. Further, they knew that the person they were talking to (myself) had heard all the fish stories years before! One of the things that impressed me was that they all agreed as to the ghostly whitish color of the vast fish.’

In 1933 another sighting was recorded this time by Western novelist and deep sea fishing fanatic Zane Grey and his son Loren. Returning from a fishing trip one evening Loren spotted seagulls spiralling over a particular area of yellowish water:

‘At first I thought it was a whale, but when the great brown tail rose in the ship’s wake as the fish moved ponderously away from the liner, I knew immediately that it was a monstrous shark. The huge round head appeared to be at least 10 to 12 feet across if not more ... It was my belief that this huge, yellowish, barnacled creature must have been at least 40 or 50 feet long. He was not a whale shark: the whale shark has a distinctive white purplish green appearance with large brown spots and much narrower head. So what was he---perhaps a true prehistoric monster of the deep?’ source

And more recently still B. Clay Cartmell author of Let’s go Fossil Shark Tooth Hunting puts forward two accounts. The first is reported sonar trackings of an unidentifiable object about 100 ft (30 m) long that was travelling faster than any submarine. While the validity of this account may appear negligible a second instance is also recorded by Cartmell.

‘In the 1960’s along the outer edge of Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, an 85 foot [26 m] ship experienced engine trouble which forced it to weigh anchor for repairs. Although the men subsequently refused to openly report what they had seen for fear of public ridicule, the captain and his crew later told friends of sighting an immense shark as it moved slowly past their ship. Whitish in color, they were awed by its size. It was as long if not longer than their boat! Experienced men of the sea, they too were certain the creature was not a whale.’ source

Most recently this possible account surfaced: ‘Swimmers in Australia have been seeing what they describe as a “monster” shark swimming just off shore. A local beach had to be closed for 2 days due to the fear of this monster. This happened in February of 2007 and some people are suggesting that this is a large Great White or perhaps a large Tiger shark. Unfortunately, no one has been able to identify the shark yet.’ source

This is my Megalodon tooth. I found it on one of my research missions. By ‘I’ I mean my husband and by ’found’ and ‘research mission’ I mean bought on Ebay, and I suppose in the spirit of full disclosure by ‘tooth’ I mean fossil. But it’s still awesome!

Best Valentine present ever!

Oh, Megalodon, how wonderful it would be if you did still live, granted the oceanic ecosystem would probably be devastated and I’m sure the wider implications of that devastation would be detrimental to life as we know it, but it would be so cool!

No, No, No...

WHY?! WHY!?

Free Sushi

So dudes and sistadudes, if you haven't heard yet, millions of dead fish have been found all over King's Harbor in Redondo Beach today. MILLIONS!!!!!! Put your ojos on THIS:


What's happening now? I feel like at this point my reaction to these things is terror mixed with:

Bringing Back the Mammoth

Japanese scientists (who else) announced last week they were attempting to Jurassic Park the wolly mammoth.



From the Daily Yomiuri Online:

A team of researchers will attempt to resurrect the species using cloning technologies after obtaining tissue this summer from the carcass of a mammoth preserved in a Russian mammoth research laboratory. It has already established a technique to extract DNA from frozen cells.
"Preparations to realize this goal have been made," said Prof. Akira Iritani, leader of the team and a professor emeritus of Kyoto University.
Under the plan, the nuclei of mammoth cells will be inserted into an elephant's egg cells from which the nuclei have been removed to create an embryo containing mammoth genes.

Not only are the Japanese doing something out of a Gozilla movie, but they even talk in hilarious syntax like a Japanese scientist - "preparations to realize this goal have been made." 

I thought scientists messing with nature in hilariously foolhardy ways where their own creations will destroy them had gone the way of the dodo.  But no! Enjoy being trampled by your half-mammoth half-elephant, all-evil monster, Science. 

Penalty For Ugliness In Kentucky? Death!

Imagine you find a magical, hairless, possible cryptid just hanging out minding his own business in your backyard. What would you do? Shoot him? If you are Hillbilly Pepaw Mark Cothern you would. Seriously, what a dick. Now they think they've solved the Chupacabra mystery but I'm not so sure.



I honestly don't think this thing is a raccoon with a skin problem. If I were Mark I'd be sleeping with one eye open, you know this Chupacabra's cousins are gonna be driving by with no lights on real soon.

Read more here.