An illustration of naturalist and author Sir T.J.Buckley at work in his study in 1834. Artist unknown
In 1839, London-based printer Overland Press was in the midst of printing and binding Sir T.J. Buckley’s much anticipated Field Guide to Frightful & Exotic Fauna. One night, Sir J.T. Buckley mysteriously disappeared, and the manuscript and galleys also went missing. Buckley was never found.
In 2022, renovations to the building that housed the now defunct printing company began. As construction crews readied the interior for a new life as a Primark, they discovered galley pages from the field guide under some floorboards.
This first installment of a three-part series features the book’s dedication page, Foreward, and third chapter. The first and second chapter were too severely damaged to be legible, but are believed to be dedicated to Baba Gagas and Banshees.
I am most deeply honored to write the Foreward to my dear friend and fellow Oxford alumnus Sir J.T. Buckley, who presents a thorough and estimable field guide to his readers.
In all my years of intercourse with many of Britain’s greatest minds, I have never encountered a more steadfast, passionate, and undeterrable man of science.
Though many tried, nay begged Sir Buckley to halt his expeditions, citing price, danger, and the lengthly list of fatalities visited upon his servants, guides, associates, fellow travelers, scientists, students, and bystanders, Sir Buckley has at long last completed his much anticipated manuscript.
Published by the esteemed Hardmeat & Greedy Press, both alumni of Oxford University, this most detailed and informative guidebook is a watershed in the field of biology. The creatures catalogued in the following pages, have, in the past, been labeled as supernatural, mythical, or entirely dismissed as general poppycock.
With the publication of this fine book, Sir Buckley has claimed a great victory for science, as surely as the Girt Dog of Ennerdale claimed his footman’s left leg (a dreadful loss for someone in his line of work.)
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My travels next brought me to the wilds of Scotland. We settled in a quaint rooming house with a lively tavern. Though the supper of haggis was truly dreadful, our spirits could not be dampened. The skies we clear of clouds and the full moon was to rise shortly. As darkness enrobed the rugged landscape.
We gathered our supplies for the evening. Despite the agitated protestations of the agreeable innkeeper named Caelin Lightfoot, we set out to a most desolate meadow at the edge of a dark wood.
Fig. 3-1. Our merry band of adventurers enjoys libations with a group of local Scotsmen. Illustration by M. Purslane
Upon arrival, I positioned scouts about the area. Young Miles Purslane, a promising student of art, was at the ready with ink and paper. At the stroke of midnight, came a terrific howl from the forest beyond the gloomy open landscape. It was like a wolf, but with a guttural undertone that brought to mind a tormented soul. After a moment a scout raced out from the wood.
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It was Ian Suffertail, a local cooper and widowed father of four. Pale with terror, he described the lightning-quick werewolf that had sprung silently from the forest and fallen upon his fellow scout, a eighteen-year-old lad by the name of Lachlan MacKennon. The creature had torn the young man to pieces in mere moments.
Suffertail managed to escape as the beast feasted upon MacKennon’s entrails, likely with much greater delight than we had earlier feasted on haggis. I directed Purslane to begin sketching the environment as I had deduced that the moon-mad werewolf, would follow Suffertail’s scent and I was quickly proven correct.
The beast leapt into view and pursued Suffertail. Now slowed by the weight of the stripling in belly, the beast was unable to catch his prey as quickly. Purslane sketched furiously and Suffertail had the good sense to circle the path several times before succumbing to the predator, which allowed Purslane time to complete a most detailed representation of the scene.
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Fig. 3-2. The werewolf assails Suffertail. Illustration by M. Purslane
The sketch was a great success, and Purslane even captured the werewolf’s moment of triumph. Note the tattered remnants of a shirt and apron the beast has about its torso. In a twist worthy of Sophocles, it was the kindly innkeeper himself who had transformed into the vicious beast now disembowling Suffertail.
At last so encumbered by his distended belly the werewolf/Mr. Lightfoot, padded away into the forest. Early the next morning , the innkeeper was discovered asleep in the forest with no memory of the previous night’s events, from the danger save that of a tremendous jaw clamping down upon his arm as he hurried after my party to beg us to return to the safety of the inn.
Commendably, Mr. Lightfoot managed to serve a (far superior) morning meal to the surviving members of my team before we left Cock Bridge for a new adventure in the mountains of Greece.
