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Where the Map Ends

The Hook That Hauled Up Land

A journal entry on Te Matau a Māui, the demigod's fishhook said to have raised the North Island of New Zealand from the sea, and its afterlife as a constellation in Hawaiian sky-lore.

The Ox-Headed Serpent of the Drowned Coast

Along Galicia's Costa da Morte, fishermen once spoke of the Urco, a vast sea serpent with the head of an ox, said to rise before wrecks and storms. The entry follows the beast through the memories of a coastline that has buried more sailors than it has ever given back.

The Thing in the Reeds

A journal entry on the bunyip, the water-dwelling being of Aboriginal folklore from the Murray-Darling basin, and how a warning about dangerous water became, in colonial hands, both a cryptid and an insult.

The Bough He Carried Instead

A look at the holly bough carried by the Green Knight in the Middle English romance, the small green sign that turned an armed intruder's arrival into something closer to a game than a threat.

Pukwudgie Country

An account of the pukwudgie, the small and sharp-tempered woodland spirits of Wampanoag and Algonquian tradition, and the wary respect they still command in the pine barrens of southeastern Massachusetts.

Where the Whistlers Fly

On the old English belief in the Seven Whistlers, the unseen birds whose calls marked the boundary between the known road and the country beyond it, and on what the blank edges of old maps once meant to those who had to cross them.

The Bird That Never Lands

In Persian tradition the Huma is a bird that lives entirely on the wing, and whose shadow, falling on a person, was once said to mark them for a throne.

Marginalia of the Deep

A journal entry tracing the sea serpent from Jörmungandr's coils around Midgard to the sightings and chart-drawings of Norwegian sailors and the naturalists who took their word seriously.

Lykos and the Hollow Wood

A journal entry on Lykos, the guardian wolf said to haunt the last old-growth remnants of the English wildwood, and the folk memory that keeps him there long after real wolves were gone.

The Grammar of Birds

On the old Roman and Etruscan art of augury, in which the flight of birds, the fall of lightning, and the appetite of sacred chickens were read as the language of fate.

Where the Ink Runs Out

A look at terra incognita, the old cartographer's term for the unmapped edge of the world, and the dragons, monsters and blank spaces that filled it.

The Fox Who Outwitted the Court

A journal entry tracing Reynard the Fox through the medieval beast-epics of France, Flanders and Germany, and asking why a liar became the most beloved animal in European letters.
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