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The Element Encyclopedia of Witchcraft: The Complete A–Z for the Entire Magical World
Judika Illes
Following on from the hugely successful Element Encyclopedia of 5000 Spells, comes the next bumper encyclopedia celebrating all facets of witchcraft. This definite book is the most comprehensive, authoritative and entertaining guide you'll ever find on the mythology, folklore and traditions of magic.In this mammoth magical treasure trove, Judika Illes explores the history, folklore, spirituality, and mythology of witchcraft. A feast of facts and curiosities, rooted in magical and spiritual traditions, from all over the world, there are recipes from the witch's cauldron, magical sacred dates, and methods of witches' flights. Discover how witchcraft has inspired popular culture from Shakespeare to Harry Potter, and how witches have suffered persecution and death in centuries past.Packed full of amazing facts, bizarre information and fascinating stories, you will also be introduced to mythic witches, modern witches, sacred goddess witches, even demon witches, male and female witches, and witches from all over the globe.Ideal for both the dedicated follower and casual reader, as a perfect gift for yourself or someone else to treasure, this definitive encyclopedia is essential reading for anyone interested in folklore, mythology and magic.



The Element Encyclopedia of Witchcraft
Judika Illes
the complete a–z for the entire magical world



For Clara Fisher and Irma Illes, with love
In memory of Zsuzsanna and Margit Grosz

Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u80b47a1d-c2da-50be-a4ca-d8a53363f4a8)
Title Page (#udd869208-cf85-55db-9bb2-81c19d97b2c6)
Dedication (#uf2d3d506-10f2-526a-95e2-000a4cf64187)
Introduction (#u7378b979-2ed2-5a23-a9e5-d5594c8caf90)
Elements of Witchcraft (#u5555ac10-e9e7-5721-a983-48a24abc5007)
Animals (#u3df7baf8-7b1d-525a-831c-02220dc4ff12)
Books of Magic and Witchcraft (#u81591edf-30de-54b5-9ca3-3523e7a25bbb)
Botanicals (#u748f468f-8cb7-5b4e-b765-a7e3476c0047)
Calendar of Revelry and Sacred Days (#u9ab0e529-4b14-5267-ba2a-51d2fa372b87)
Creative Arts (#litres_trial_promo)
Dictionary of Witchcraft: A Magical Vocabulary (#litres_trial_promo)
The Divine Witch: Goddesses and Gods (#litres_trial_promo)
Ergot, The Corn Mother, and The Rye Wolf (#litres_trial_promo)
Fairies (#litres_trial_promo)
Fairy-Tale Witches and Mother Goose (#litres_trial_promo)
Food and Drink (#litres_trial_promo)
The Hag (#litres_trial_promo)
The Horned One and The Devil (#litres_trial_promo)
Magical Arts (#litres_trial_promo)
Magical Professions (#litres_trial_promo)
Places: A witch’s Travel Guide (#litres_trial_promo)
Tools of Witchcraft (#litres_trial_promo)
Witchcraft Hall of Fame (#litres_trial_promo)
Witchcraze! Persecution of Witches (#litres_trial_promo)
Women’s Mysteries (#litres_trial_promo)
Wormwood and Garlic: Dangers and Protection (#litres_trial_promo)
Bibliography (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)
Other Book By (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Introduction (#ulink_3480907e-1a53-5f75-8a59-bb38d6695917)
Most of my clothes are black. I have a black cat. My favorite holiday is Halloween. I have perpetually unruly hair. Given the right company, I will happily chatter on about astrology, magic, herbs, and divination. I write books of magic spells. So perhaps it’s not surprising that periodically I’m asked whether I’m a witch.
Invariably, my response is to say that my answer depends upon the inquirer’s definition of witchcraft. Inevitably this leads to frustration (and often to anger) on the part of the inquirer: they think they’ve asked a very simple, straightforward question because, of course, every child, any idiot so to speak, knows the definition of “witch.” Their perception is that I’m being snippy and evasive (stereotypical witch behavior, incidentally) when in fact I’m just wary. I’ve already experienced too many unpleasant encounters with those whose definitions of witchcraft did not correspond with my own—or with each other’s for that matter. I’ve learned that, just like beauty, what constitutes witchcraft is dependent upon the eye of its beholder.
Don’t believe me? Let’s look in the dictionary.
The following definition is from Webster’s Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary:
WITCH (n ME wicche fr. OE wicca, masc. wizard and wicce fem. witch; akin to MHG wicken to bewitch, OE wigle divination, OHG wih holy—more at victim)
1a. Wizard, Sorcerer
1b. a woman practicing the black arts: SORCERESS
1c. one supposed to possess supernatural powers esp. by compact with devil or familiar
1d. or Witcher: Dowser
2. an ugly old woman: HAG
3. a charming or alluring woman

Oh boy, we’ve got some contradictions right there. Which witch does my inquirer suppose me to be? Should I take the question as a compliment or as an insult? It’s probably safe to presume that most women wouldn’t strongly object to the insinuation that they’re charming or alluring but what if the witch this particular questioner has in mind is actually that ugly old hag or Satan’s minion?
Hags, wizards, compacts with the devil: these definitions, or at least the words used to express them, demonstrate an archaic tone. In all fairness, I grabbed the first dictionary at hand. The definition quoted above comes from a well-worn 1965 edition, not that long ago considering the entire scope of time, but still, perhaps a newer edition might offer a more modern definition. With the wonders of modern technology and automatic updates, Merriam-Webster’s Online Dictionary is about as up-to-date as dictionaries get, yet its definition of the word witch is similar to the one from 1965 with but one significant addition:
WITCH
1: one that is credited with usually malignant supernatural powers; especially: a woman practicing usually black witchcraft often with the aid of a devil or familiar:
SORCERESS—compare WARLOCK
2: an ugly old woman: HAG
3: a charming or alluring girl or woman
4: a practitioner of Wicca

Now in addition to “practicing usually black witchcraft” the witch may also be “a practitioner of Wicca” although whether Wicca and black witchcraft are different or synonymous is not addressed.
Both dictionary definitions link witches with women; at least that much seems clear. Or is it? The further one searches for a definitive definition of the witch the more elusive and labyrinthine the subject becomes.
Other references suggest a narrower definition of witchcraft, albeit with greater flexibility regarding gender. According to Dr Margaret Alice Murray, the controversial scholar who wrote a long-standing definition of witchcraft for the Encyclopedia Britannica, the word “witch” has been used since the fifteenth century almost exclusively to describe persons, either male or female, who worked magic.
Funk and Wagnalls Standard Dictionary of Folklore, Mythology and Legend further clarifies this issue of gender. That book defines a witch as
a person who practices sorcery; a sorcerer or sorceress; one having supernatural powers in the natural world, especially to work evil and usually by association with evil spirits or the Devil: formerly applied to both men and women but now generally restricted to women. Belief in witches exists in all lands, from earliest times to the present day.
Although Margaret Murray’s definition is neutral in tone, the others possess, to varying degrees, an air of malevolency. So perhaps I should be insulted at the suggestion that I’m “witchy.”
You want a really virulent definition of “witch”? Try this one:
“Witches are the devil’s whores who steal milk, raise storms, ride on goats or broomsticks, lame or maim people, torture babies in their cradles, change things into different shapes so that a human being seems to be a cow or an ox and force people into love and immorality.”
Martin Luther, 1522
Perhaps not. Maybe I should be flattered. Author Raymond Buckland, a pivotal figure in the evolution of modern Wicca and an authority on magic, divination, and witchcraft, acknowledges the very same etymology quoted in the dictionaries yet proposes a positive understanding of the word “witch”:
The actual meaning of the word Witch is linked to “wisdom” and is the same root as “to have wit” and “to know.” It comes from the Anglo-Saxon wicce (f) or wicca (m) meaning “wise one,” witches being both female and male.
On the other hand, many would advise me to absolutely not engage in discussion with anyone who wishes to know whether I’m a witch, not because of any potential insult but because the whole notion of witches and witchcraft is absurd. Their definition of “witch” doesn’t extend to living, breathing human beings. I can’t possibly be a witch; it’s not even worth discussing, because witches are made up, fictional: they don’t exist outside fairy tales, stories, and legends. Obviously anyone asking me this question is simple-minded, delusional, mentally ill or just teasing. Those adhering to this definition may in fact love witchcraft very much—in its place, which is fiction. Their witches exist in realms inhabited by trolls, ogres, fire-breathing dragons, and handsome princes who miraculously arrive on white horses at the very last second. They are integral to fairy and folk tales but are not perceived as belonging to “real life” except as a story-teller’s device.
Sophisticated minds, especially those of a Jungian bent, might also dispute the reality of a living, breathing, practicing witch—although their objection is based on a completely different definition of “witch.” For them, the witch is not an individual belonging either to real life or fairy tales but is an extremely powerful archetype, a reflection of human fears and desire. That the witch-figure is universally recognized and understood all over the globe is hardly surprising because, of course, human archetypes are universal and shared by all.
In true Jungian terminology—as defined by Carl Jung, a man not averse to metaphysical study—witches are projections of the dark side of the anima, the female side, of human nature.
Furthermore, that archetypal witch, the one so prominently featured in Halloween iconography, is recognizable as a “witch” virtually everywhere on Earth: the concept of the solitary person (depending upon culture it is not always a woman) in touch with the secret powers of nature and willing to put those powers into practical use resonates around the world, although the general attitude towards this person may differ greatly.
Have we exhausted all possible ways to define “witch”? Oh, no. Not yet, not hardly, not by a long shot. We’ve just begun to explore the many ways the word is understood by different people. Yet another definition’s many adherents possess no consensus regarding whether witches really exist, but they do agree that, whether witches live and breathe or are merely fantasy figures, the witch is not truly human. This witch is defined as a supernatural being, living in our midst, who only appears to be human but is actually some sort of different species, possessing hereditary superpowers and performing feats impossible for a mere mortal. This type of witch is the kind most frequently seen on television and in movies. Often they’re unhappy because they’d really like to be human: think Bell, Book and Candle or Bewitched. Sometimes, like Harry Potter, they’ve had miserable, unhappy existences as human beings, but are delighted to discover that they are really witches and whose lives are much happier spent in an alternative witch universe. Witchcraft is not learned or achieved through compact with either devil or angel but is hereditary, a matter of genetic destiny.
If my inquirer subscribes to this notion of witchcraft, mere verbal affirmation will not be a sufficient answer for him. He will want a demonstration of my powers because these witches can do things other people can’t, such as fly or teleport. If he’s really convinced I’m a witch, my protestations that I lack super-powers won’t be believed; he’ll think I’m just being coy or secretive, snippy and evasive once again.
Attempts to pin down a rigid definition of witchcraft, one shared by all, are something like entering a carnival fun-house, a hall of mirrors, where asking someone to define what is a witch reveals more about that person than about either witches or witchcraft. We look at the same image but see different things. We use one word but mean different things. So many people love, loathe, and are passionately fascinated by witchcraft, yet there are so many conflicting definitions of what constitutes a witch, each of which may be deeply, sincerely, and passionately held.
Although most people are absolutely sure that they can precisely define the word “witch,” there is profound disagreement and contradiction amongst their definitions. For instance, although I recognize that every one of the preceding definitions possesses adherents, not one of them entirely satisfies my own personal perception of witches. And yet, had I not in recent years come into contact with so many whose definitions of the word differed so much from my own, I, too, would have been absolutely sure that I understood exactly what everyone else would understand to be a witch.
What isn’t expressed in any of the definitions given above is a perception of the witch as a figure of female empowerment: in a world of good, polite, agreeable, well-behaved, passive girls, the witch is an independent, empowered, autonomous, frequently assertive, and defiant woman, beholden to no one. (Unless, of course, you subscribe to the notion of the witch as a minion of Satan, in which case she couldn’t be more beholden.) Candace Savage, author of Witch: The Wild Ride from Wicked to Wicca, describes the witch as embodying “bad girl power.” Whether one admires, detests or fears powerful women will have a lot to do with how one defines and perceives the witch.
Of course, there is another significant reason, perhaps the most crucial of all, as to why one shouldn’t casually identify oneself as a witch without first understanding what that word means to others: safety. Does the other party perceive witches as admirable beings to emulate, or as evil beings to avoid or even exterminate? If you identify yourself as a witch, are you a role model, a kindred spirit, or the enemy?
Despite definitions linking witches to evil and malfeasance, historically it has been the witch who has been victim rather than perpetrator, most notoriously in Europe during the era known alternately as the Burning Times, the Witch-hunts or the Witch-craze. This was quite a long period, spanning roughly from the fourteenth through the eighteenth centuries and affecting to varying degrees, with very few exceptions, virtually the entire European continent. During this period attempts were made to root out all facets of witchcraft and witchery. (Explanations vary regarding the motivation of the witch-hunters as well as the true identity of the victims—were they really witches in other words—which once again leads us back to definitions of witches and witchcraft.) Those accused of witchcraft were arrested; brutal torture was used to obtain confessions as well as identification of still more witches. Estimates of the numbers killed as witches during the Burning Times range from the tens of thousands to millions, depending upon one’s source.
This isn’t just old history incidentally, cautionary tales of long ago. Although the Witchcraze eventually burned itself out in Europe, today’s newspapers periodically, with some frequency, report the brutal murders of people identified as witches in India and throughout Africa. Now, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, it is still not safe, depending where you’re located, to be branded a witch.
Frankly, the more one discusses witches, the more confusing the matter becomes. Perhaps if one could accurately define “witchcraft,” defining the witch would be easier. Think again. The only thing more elusive than a single, definitive definition of the witch is one precise explanation of the craft that she practices!
Let’s take another look at the dictionary. How does that 1965 edition, for instance, define witchcraft? Three possibilities are offered:

WITCHCRAFT (n)
1a. the use of sorcery or magic
1b. intercourse with the devil or with a familiar
2. an irresistible influence or fascination:
ENCHANTMENT

The definition suggesting that witchcraft is “the use of sorcery or magic” is widely accepted. Many people, including many self-professed witches, perceive it to be an obvious fact that witchcraft is synonymous with the magical arts. Where they differ is whether that practice is perceived as natural, and worthy of respect and admiration, or whether it is perceived as sinful, evil, and unhealthy.
Have we finally reached a consensus? Is a witch, then, someone who uses sorcery or magic? Not so fast. That definition leads to even more questions. For instance, exactly how much magic or sorcery does one have to use to be considered a witch? At what point are you a witch? Do you need a year and a day of study, as some believe, or does one single spell or experiment with divination define you as a witch? Teenagers playing with ouija boards: are they witches? Does dabbling in witchcraft make you a witch or is some dedication to the magical arts, some mastery, required? Do your spells have to be successful? What if you stop casting spells but retain the knowledge, are you still a witch? Are you a witch if you want to cast spells, or dream about spell-casting, but, for one reason or another, don’t?
Of course, all this ignores the even bigger question at the root of this definition of witchcraft. These considerations presuppose that you accept the reality of magic power: a minority position in modern Western society. Most people don’t believe in magic, or at least officially say they don’t. If magic and sorcery don’t exist, does witchcraft?
Well, yes, maybe it could, depending once again upon your definition. Another definition harks back to the original Anglo-Saxon meaning of the word. “Witchcraft: the craft of the wise, the knowledgeable.” This may be understood to refer to magical workings, however Raymond Buckland proposes a definition of witchcraft not included in the dictionary: witchcraft
is an ancient Pagan religion with a belief in both male and female deities, with a reverence for nature and all life, and recognition of a need for fertility among plants, animals and humans. In western Europe Witchcraft grew into a loosely formalized religion with its own priesthood.
Witchcraft, then, is no longer sorcery or magic but religion, with the witch, the wise one, a member of its priesthood.
Buckland’s definition envisions witchcraft as a specific religious path with doctrines and practices as well defined as that of any other religious faith, even if loosely formalized. Others also perceive a religious root but differ on other aspects: according to these authorities the whole concept of “witchcraft” is a construct created by Christians who had hostile perceptions of pagan spirituality. Pagan deities were degraded into demons and devils, their devotees maligned as witches: one person’s god transformed into another person’s devil, in other words. These spiritual traditions aren’t one but many: what unifies them is the Christian perception of them as evil and devilish.
Witchcraft as religion? The scary old woman in the forest doesn’t wish to harm you but only wants to practice her religion in peace? That concept would surprise—and perhaps disappoint—many people. Witchcraft as religion does offer the possibility of witchcraft without magic. If you accept the definition of witchcraft as being a suppressed pagan religion, then it exists even if magic doesn’t. One can celebrate the cycles of the year, the inherent sacredness of Earth, without recourse to magic.
Witchcraft as religion, witchcraft as magical art: Margaret Murray recognized that one single word was being used to express different concepts. She distinguished between what she termed “operative witchcraft,” defined as the casting of spells or charms, for either good or ill and common to every nation as part of shared human heritage, and “ritual witchcraft,” the ancient religion of Western Europe.
Various definitions of “witch,” including Carl Jung’s, make frequent reference to the female sex. During the Burning Times, victims were overwhelmingly female. In fact, your greatest risk factor for being accused of witchcraft and killed during the Burning Times in most of Europe (exceptions: Finland, Estonia, and Iceland) was being a woman. Some would argue that this is because witchcraft is the surviving remnant of women’s ancient shamanic arts. Once sacred and valued, over the centuries these shamanic arts became denigrated, diabolized, feared, and driven underground: surviving practitioners, the “witches,” would be regarded with fear or respect, depending upon the perspective of the beholder.
On the other hand, maybe there is no “witchcraft,” only misogyny. Maybe magic and spirituality are irrelevant to my questioner; what he’s really trying to tell me is that I’m not “nice.” The word “witch” is often used as a pejorative for women, a slur, a derogatory insult-word. As an example, a recent letter to the editor from a reader of People magazine described a particularly unpopular female participant in a realitytelevision show as “a real witch.” It was emphatically not meant as a compliment. The letter-writer makes no assertions whatsoever regarding this woman’s spiritual beliefs or magic power; instead it was intended as a description of character. A “witch” is understood to be disagreeable, deceitful, immoral or amoral, strident, defiant, arrogant, unpleasant, overly assertive, “unfeminine,” not “nice” or “lady-like,” in short, an uppity woman.
Within the metaphysical, magical community, “witch” may be a badge of pride and a title of respect, although even here, that’s not consistently so. Outside that community, the use of the word “witch” is quite often intended as an insult—very often the insult-word of choice for those who prefer not to sully their lips with that other common slur-word for women with which witch rhymes. Used to describe a spiritual devotee or a magical practitioner, “witch” is most often a woman but may refer to a man; used as an insult, a “witch” is always female.
So does “witch” refer to a specific type of woman, to specific behaviors some perceive as unattractive or dangerous in women, or does it refer to all women, “every woman a witch” as the old saying goes? “Witch” as slur doesn’t preclude a magical understanding. Some perceive that inherent in the female sex—going right back to that first woman Eve with her too familiar snake—every woman is a witch or at least potentially so, that latent witch in the making. This perspective is expressed most explicitly—and dangerously—in The Malleus Maleficarum, the most influential of witch-hunter’s manuals, but it didn’t disappear with the witch-hunts, making frequent modern appearances, as for instance in Fritz Leiber’s novel, Conjure Wife, whose hero, a distinguished anthropology professor, an expert (or so he thinks!) on magical practices, is shocked to discover the truth about the female sex—including his own wife.
On the other hand—and when discussing witchcraft there seems always to be another hand—some would agree with that old statement “every woman a witch” yet understand it as a positive affirmation: every woman’s potential for witchcraft perceived as every woman’s personal connection with the divine Feminine; every woman a magical goddess on Earth, a living conduit to the sacred, something to be encouraged, cherished and protected, not discouraged and exterminated.
So when someone asks whether you are a witch, are they trying to determine whether you are a practitioner of the magical arts, a living goddess, a danger to society, a snippy, evasive woman, a follower of a specific spiritual path, or some or all of the above?
Maybe it’s none of the above. We haven’t run out of definitions yet. Maybe witchcraft has nothing to do with religion, spirituality or magic, or at least not as those terms are understood today. Another definition suggests that witchcraft derives from the healing arts, once largely the domain of women. Once upon a time, women held significant, prominent roles as community healers. As medicine became an exclusively male profession, legally enforced as such, women who attempted to maintain their former roles were branded as dangerous “witches.” Women were forbidden to study medicine, forbidden to practice medicine—leading to a medieval definition of witchcraft: “If a woman dare to cure without having studied, she is a witch and must die.” Essentially these witches are practicing medicine without a license, a practice that remains illegal today, although with far less dire consequences.
Of course, one can argue that healing is (or was) a spiritual practice, that healing is (or was) a magical art and that some would define those law-breaking practitioners, those “witches” who continued to practice in secret, as uppity, defiant, arrogant women, although others might call them heroines.
We’re going in circles. With all these contradictions and ambiguity one would imagine the witch to be some obscure figure. This couldn’t be further from the truth. It would be extremely difficult to find anyone, from the smallest child to the most remote villager, who doesn’t know what a witch is—or at least a witch as defined by their definition.
This passionate debate regarding the true identity of witches only underscores how deeply the witch resonates in each person’s consciousness. Because one’s own individual personal definition rings so clearly and profoundly, any other definition seems inadequate, misguided or just plain wrong. Witches evoke a passionate response, whether that passion resonates as fear or as love. People emulate witches. They long for witches in times of trouble. They run from witches as sources of trouble. Witches are held up as role models or as examples of exactly what not to be. Even those who fear, hate, and despise witches can’t leave them alone, as history has too often tragically proved.
If one attempts to remove the witch-figure from worldwide folklore, you promptly eliminate the vast majority of fairy and folk tales. Think about the Western canon of fairy tales: if there’s no witch, then there’s no Hansel and Gretel, no Beauty and the Beast, no Snow White or Rapunzel. Witchcraft doesn’t only figure in entertainment dating from days of yore; the witch continually reappears, evolving with the times. Need we even say “Harry Potter”? If there’s no witch, count the movies, books, and television shows that no longer exist. Now some might protest that these works do not reflect the reality of witchcraft, but as we’ve seen, there is no single, simple reality of witchcraft. Witchcraft is important precisely because it’s so fluid, so mysterious, so resistant to definition, so able to touch so many different buttons in so many souls.
Is there any common denominator that underlies or unifies all these differing theories of witchcraft? Maybe. There is yet another theory of witchcraft. This vision understands witchcraft to be the surviving vestiges of ancient Paleolithic culture originally shared by all human societies all over Earth: witchcraft as the original religion, the cult of Earth’s powers, the mother of spirituality. As people spread out, migrated and diverged, variations emerged; however witchcraft’s roots remain universal. As Funk and Wagnalls succinctly put it: “Belief in witches exists in all lands, from earliest times to the present day.” This primal witch is our shared human heritage, although whether one reacts to her with love, awe, fear, and/or revulsion depends upon many factors.
Modern religions/spiritual paths as well as magical practices of all kinds, including the healing arts, may be understood as descending from this primal “witchcraft”’—or as reactions against it. Those who understand witches to be not flesh-and-blood reality but stories and archetypes can also trace the descent of their witch from this primal witchcraft.
Another way of understanding this primal witchcraft is as a worldview, a way of seeing, looking at and understanding the universe. Looking at the witch reveals more about the gazer then the witch. Instead, let’s try looking through that primal witch’s eyes. In witchcraft’s worldview, Earth is a place of mystery and wonder, full of powers of which one can avail oneself, if one only knows how. The witch is the one who knows. A good majority of the words used around the world, in various languages, not just Anglo-Saxon, to identify the concept of the “witch” involve acquisition of wisdom. A Russian euphemism for witches and sorcerers translates as “people with knowledge.” The witch isn’t just a smart person, however; what the witch knows is more than just common knowledge. The witch knows Earth’s secrets.
Whether you perceive the witch as powerful or evil may depend upon whether you perceive knowledge as desirable or dangerous; whether you perceive that human knowledge is something that should be limited. The witch doesn’t think so. She, or he as the case may be, wants to know. This may be the heart of the matter.
Saint Patrick’s Breastplate, a famous Irish prayer attributed to that snake-banishing saint, begs God’s protection against “incantations of false prophets, against the black laws of paganism, against spells of women, smiths and druids, against all knowledge that is forbidden the human soul.”
Although in Christian myth, Original Sin, triggered by the serpent’s temptation of Eve, is often understood to be sex, a close reading of the Bible reveals that what the snake really offers Eve is knowledge. In fact, wherever snakes and people exist together, snakes are associated with wisdom—and with witchcraft. In various subversive retellings of that biblical tale, ancient Gnostic as well as neo-Pagan, the snake is attempting to assist Eve, to be her ally, not to entrap her.
Looking through the witch’s eyes may offer a very different perspective than that which many modern people are accustomed. One sees a world of power and mystery, full of secrets, delights, and dangers to be uncovered. However it is not a black-and-white world; it is not a world with rigidly distinct boundaries but a transformative world, a world filled with possibility, not what is but what could be, a blending, fluid, shifting but rhythmically consistent landscape.

It is no accident that the heavenly body universally associated with witchcraft is the moon, whose shape changes continually, although her rhythm is constant

It is no accident that the element universally associated with witchcraft is water, whose tides are ruled by the moon; water appears, disappears, changes shape, shifts continually, but remains rhythmically constant

It is no accident that the human gender most associated with witchcraft is the female one: the female body, like lunar phases and ocean tides, changes continually, often to the despair of the individual woman herself, although the rhythms also possess consistency if we let ourselves feel them.
Although this may resonate in the souls of witches it doesn’t explain the allure witches hold for so many who do not identify themselves as witches. Why the almost universal fascination with witches? Maybe because they’re fun. Yes, there are tragedies associated with witchcraft (just look at this book’s section on the Burning Times), sorry days in the history of witchcraft, but those tragedies are not witchcraft’s defining factor. So many in both the general public and the magical community are attracted to witches precisely because they are fun, and in fact that’s a very serious point about witchcraft.
During a particularly dour era in Europe, between the fourteenth and eighteenth centuries, witches were consistently condemned for, among other things, having fun. Among the charges typically brought against witches was that instead of attending church and being solemn and serious, they were out partying, whether with each other, the devil, with fairies or the Wild Hunt. Among the crimes associated with witchcraft was having fun at a time when fun was suspect. What exactly were those witches accused of doing at their sabbats? Feasting, dancing, making love. So-called telltale signs of witchcraft are those stereotypes that automatically brand a woman as a witch: among the most common is loud, hearty laughter—the infamous witches’ cackle.
While others mortified their flesh, the witches applied sensual unguents. While others deprived themselves, the witches indulged. It’s not surprising that on Halloween, a night when repressions are set free, so many don the garb of the witch. In a time of repression, witches danced secretly in the forest. They were accused of flying away from their husbands and responsibilities to consort with the devil, portrayed by the witch-hunters as a being of tremendous, unflagging sexuality. The devil, at least as portrayed in trial transcripts, never gets tired and never demands that you do your housework.
Cards on the table. According to the tenets of French postmodernist literature, it is impossible for an author to remove themselves completely from the content of their work. In other words, no author is capable of writing a completely unbiased work and thus should address their personal beliefs and biases up front. This is probably particularly true when writing about a topic like witchcraft that inspires such passionate emotion. Therefore, I feel I should come clean about my own perceptions of witchcraft.
I confess: ever since I was old enough to toddle, I’ve dressed up as a witch on Halloween, never as anything else, even into adulthood. Even now, I own a “Morticia” dress. Once at a masquerade party a man who knew next to nothing about me commented how comfortable I seemed in that dress, my “costume.” It’s true: as a child, had I been this articulate, I would have said that Halloween was the only night of the year that I wasn’t dressing up.
I love witches and have done ever since I can remember. I craved fairy tales as a child: the witch resonated in my soul (my version of her anyway) and I identified with her instead of fearing her as I knew, even then, was the expected response.
What is it that I loved about the witch? These are hard things to articulate because, as the Jungians write, the witch-figure touches such deep primal emotions that an exploration of what attracts or repels us about witchcraft becomes an exploration of one’s deepest self. Certainly the magical aspect of witchcraft attracted me; I was simultaneously attracted to astrology, divination, and occult philosophy. But I also think that, as a child raised to be very “good,” “well-behaved,” and “obedient” the defiant quality inherent in witches was extremely attractive. Of course, the witch can afford to be defiant (at least in folk tales) because she has the power to back up her disobedience. As a child raised amid adults possessing many psychic wounds, a child raised to have a lot of fear, the witch’s lack of fear, her knowledge of secret defenses, her willingness to have fun and break rules, as well as her ability to instill fear in others resonated deeply within me, as I think it does for so many regardless of spiritual affiliation or belief in the existence of magic, although that resonance may inspire either devotion or revulsion depending upon the individual.
If you read studies of witchcraft, especially older or more academic ones, it’s clear that it never occurs to many authors that were the witch-hunts to resume they too might be accused, condemned by their very interest in the topic. However, it is not the victim with whom they identify, hence the focus on the Witch-hunters, judges, and general public. For a variety of reasons, I have never had any doubt as to which end of the stake I’d find myself on.
I identify with the witch, always. As a child, my least favorite fairy tales were the ones where the witch is made to appear irredeemably grotesque—Hansel and Gretel, for instance. Even then, I understood this as defamation and distortion and perceived that in some way it was directed toward me. Frankly the French postmodernists are right: I can no more write neutrally about witch-hunters than I could about Nazi genocide, white supremacists or serial killers. (Although, as the French postmodernists would point out, neither can anyone else, whether they realize it or not.)
That said, I also appreciate that many who perceive the witch as evil, corrupt, and devilish do so from sincerity and religious conviction, not from foolishness and superstition. Witchcraft touches enormous chords within the human soul and not all perceive these chords as positive. Denying the reactions, making fun of those who perceive the witch as dangerous, further denies the complexity of the witch.
As a child, I loved pretty much anything featuring a witch: Wendy Witch, Bewitched, Baba Yaga, Andrew Lang’s fairy tales. The only entertainment featuring a witch that I didn’t enjoy—positively dreaded when it appeared on TV annually—was the film version of The Wizard of Oz. The winged monkeys did scare me, although the wicked witch didn’t. I found Margaret Hamilton much more frightening in her guise as Miss Gulch. What really terrified me, though was Dorothy’s family, her aunt and uncle, who would not defy Miss Gulch and save Toto, either openly and defiantly or sneakily and surreptitiously. I found their passivity terrifying. I thought Dorothy was an idiot for returning to Kansas and the people who, although she loved them, had already demonstrated their unwillingness to protect her and her interests.
My perspective may have been unique and probably reflects my experiences as a small child raised amid an immigrant community of adult survivors of concentration camps, extermination camps, labor camps, displaced persons camps and European prison camps. I was always aware of how crucial and vital it is to have people who will protect you, defend you, hide you, take risks for you and not deny you.
Thus, unlike to many scholars and witches alike, the Burning Times are not an abstraction to me. They are very real. It is not a coincidence to me that the extermination of witches occurred in the same areas of Europe that would but a few hundred years later exterminate Jews and Gypsies, my family among them. It is not a coincidence to me that the genocide associated with World War II began in the same areas of Europe where killing witches was most virulent. According to records, there were towns in Germany left without women, just as years later there would be towns left without Jews.
Except for studies specifically devoted to them, history books rarely discuss the witch-hunts except as a footnote or as an aberration, as an example of how superstitious and ignorant people used to be. It’s treated as an embarrassment to be rushed over (and of course, honest discussion of witches and witchcraft, as we’ve seen, introduces all sorts of sensitive issues); focus tends to be limited to the nature of the perpetrators (why were they so crazy about killing witches?) and of the victims: were they or were they not really witches? More sympathetic studies tend to emphasize that they were not, as if this somehow makes the killing more tragic.
Then the witch-hunts just go away. We mourn the many dead. There is little if any focus on the impact that this era, an era that lasted for centuries in some areas, not mere years or decades, had on the survivors, including those who narrowly escaped the clutches of the Witch-hunters, those whose families were tragically affected, the many who profited from the witch-hunts as well as those who watched on the sidelines. Yet I can personally guarantee you that that impact must have been tremendous, having spent my life with similar survivors.
After the witch-craze was over, presumably the survivors, bystanders, and perpetrators all went back to a normal life together, side-by-side. And the impact? Women of the Victorian age and beyond, basically until the 1960s (coinciding coincidentally with the resurgence of public witchcraft), are frequently criticized for their passive, submissive, obedient natures. I suspect that this passivity is a survival skill, learned in the wake of the witch-hunts. Even today the word “witch” used as a pejorative holds an implicit threat: behave yourself or else…
It’s fun to revel with the witches, but any honest examination of the history of witchcraft and perceptions toward witches reveals a lot more than fun and games. Among the topics concealed within the history of witchcraft are secret histories of spirituality, cultural attitudes toward women and parenthood, the evolution of modern medicine and agriculture, perceptions of race, gender, ethnicity, and the untold tales of many nations. Abortion wars didn’t begin with Roe vs. Wade; their long roots are entwined amidst the history of witchcraft, as are those of other modern issues like animal rights, eating disorders, ecology, environmental practices and more.
Studies of witchcraft are somewhat like that old legend about the blind men examining the elephant: one attempts to define the creature solely by its tail, another by its trunk, still another by its foot. Most studies of witchcraft focus on one definition or aspect of witchcraft—modern Wicca for instance, or the witch trials—satisfying some readers but inevitably leaving others searching for the witch that resonates in their hearts.

Thirteen Clues That YOU Might Be A Witch
Witches, in my book anyway, come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and genders. Identification via wardrobe is unreliable: anyone can dress up. However, there are some true, telltale clues. If any one or more of these statements applies to you, then you might be a witch—or, at least, have the option of heading down that road, should you so choose.

1 You’re fascinated by the magical arts, the occult sciences, and/or the hidden powers of Earth.
2 You perceive Earth as sacred, filled with mystery, worthy of awe.
3 You feel an affinity with wild weather, wild creatures, and Earth’s wild places.
4 You perceive power, positive strength, and magic, maybe even the divine, in women.
5 You can maintain a relationship with an individual of another species, such as a bird or an animal. (Whether you define your opposing gender as another species is up to you.)
6 By nature, you’re nocturnal.
7 Darkness doesn’t scare you—not consistently anyway.
8 You have an independent nature; you like to make your own rules and you value your privacy and autonomy.
9 You possess curiosity and a thirst for knowledge.
10 Ancient stories (myths, legends, fairy tales) enthrall you.
11 You think the universe might hold undiscovered mysteries. Not everything can be explained by science; not everything can be controlled by people.
12 The mysteries of birth and death fascinate you.
13 You consider yourself a witch, or sometimes suspect that you are one, or think you might like to be one.
The Element Encyclopedia of Witchcraft contains many visions and versions of witchcraft. The word “witch” historically has been used to encompass wise women, priestesses, sorcerers, wizards, magicians, healers, conjurers, shamans, and powerful women, as well as archetypal figures of fantasy. I haven’t deliberately excluded any of them. The focus is mainly on so-called “operative witchcraft”—witchcraft revolving around magical practice, witchcraft as an international community of magical practitioners, dedicated to varying traditions but all ultimately descended from and rooted in that first ancient shamanic tradition. Witchcraft as religion or spiritual tradition is incorporated into this larger vision.
Witchcraft has many faces: alluringly beautiful enchantresses but also hags, crones, queens, wizards, and even a saint. (No, not Joan of Arc, whose jailors were never able to make a witchcraft accusation stick, although they tried hard.) Within these pages you’ll discover a host of famous and infamous witches, an examination of the Burning Times, and a celebration of the sacred witch, the witch worshipped as goddess.
I hope that you will find the witch who resonates in your heart in these pages, or at least discover some clues to help you track her down. Can I offer one single definition of the witch guaranteed to satisfy every reader? No. No one can. The witch refuses to be pinned down and defined by mere words, of which she is the magical master. No one owns her. She is independent, defiant, and resists narrow definition.
So finally, what do I tell that person who wants to know if I’m a witch? Frankly, way too much time has been spent over the ages worrying about whether other people are witches. It seems inevitably to lead to trouble. The more important question is: Are you a witch?

Language
One of the first things any magical practitioner must learn is to pay serious attention to the critical power of words. Because so much of the confusion and misunderstanding regarding witchcraft derives from linguistic sources, it’s important, for purposes of clarity, to be sure that we’re all on the same page.
Even a cursory glance through this encyclopedia’s HALL OF FAME demonstrates that powerful magical practitioners come in both male and female varieties. However, so that I don’t have to keep saying “he or she,” and also because of the powerful associations between witchcraft and women—and especially because so many of the victims of witch-hunting were and remain female—unless specific reference is made to male practitioners, I’ve used female pronouns to refer to witches in general. No disrespect intended toward the many wonderful male workers of magic, powerful male witches, throughout history.
(On behalf of the astrologers in our midst, wherever possible I have also included specific dates, especially birth and death days.)
For purposes of clarity and to avoid confusion, within these pages the following words are defined as follows:


Wicca: a narrow definition—the modern religion deriving from the pre-Christian spiritual traditions of the British Isles, what some would call Gardnerian Wicca; Margaret Murray’s “ritual witchcraft.” Spelled with a capital “W”

Wicca, wicce: the Anglo-Saxon root words, masculine and feminine respectively, from which the modern words Wicca, witchcraft, witch, wit, wise, and wisdom may derive. Spelled with a lower-case “w”

Wiccan: a narrow definition: one who follows the path of Wicca; a practitioner of Margaret Murray’s “ritual witchcraft.” Spelled with a capital “W”

Witch: a broad definition: a practitioner of witchcraft as defined below; also someone perceived and identified as a “witch.” Spelled with a lower-case “w”

Witchcraft: a broad definition: the magical arts, encompassing shamanism and traditional healing; Margaret Murray’s “operative witchcraft.” Spelled with a lower-case “w”

Elements of Witchcraft (#ulink_138e72b5-d1e7-5c0e-a156-77b6a3345bf6)
I wasn’t being entirely sarcastic about my perpetually unruly hair being grounds for suspicion of witchcraft. J.K. Rowling’s depiction of Harry Potter’s messy, defiant hair isn’t mere description and character development but a deep clue to his identity, based on centuries of tradition.
A fairly universal stereotype of the witch portrays her with unruly hair; perhaps a visual declaration that she is a person who will not be ruled. In fact, in Jewish and Slavic folklore, among others, to describe a woman as having “disheveled hair” is the telltale instant giveaway that she is some kind of witch, whether human, demonic or divine.
Hair also figures prominently in the myth of Sedna, Inuit ruler of the seas. Sedna sits on the ocean floor, her chief companion her familiar dog. (Visualize something like an Alaskan malamute.) She controls the balance between the sea creatures, who wish to live, and the people ashore, who wish to live, too, and thus must hunt, catch, and eat those sea creatures. Sedna, like the sea, is volatile and moody: she manifests anger and depression by withholding the ocean’s bounty.
When food becomes scarce, the only way to restore balance is to soothe, comfort, and appease Sedna. An intrepid shaman must soul-journey to Sedna’s watery abode, approach her and calmly, gently, comb out the painful knots and tangles from her long, thick matted hair. Only when this is accomplished will Sedna’s anger, frustration, and deadly agitation pass.
Witchcraft, shamanism (more about this soon), magic, conjuring, herbalism, “traditional” healing, “traditional” spirituality, religion: like Sedna’s locks these may all be too deeply entangled to ever completely separate. However, attempts to comb them out will hopefully soothe agitation and frustration, and will definitely reveal secrets and release hidden treasures.
Let’s examine the primal roots of witchcraft and the various historical elements that have shaped witchcraft and influenced perceptions of it.

The Roots of Witchcraft: The Magical World
How far back do we have to go to find that primal witch? Well, how far back can we get? Because however far we can go, we will discover magical practices waiting for us.
Recognition of magic power and the accompanying urge to manipulate it exists from earliest creation. Folklorist and practitioner of magic Zora Neale Hurston identified God as the original hoodoo doctor, because he spoke the world into creation with a series of magical words. That’s a concept that would have been familiar to the ancient Egyptians. Among their many creation stories is one where Ptah the craftsman god, the original mason, also brings the world into existence using magic words. Other creation stories from all over Earth posit a similar magical creation. The world and all inhabitants, including people, are created via incantation, song (charm), visualization, spell-casting or image-magic: figures molded from Earth, life magically breathed into them.
Other creation stories make the magical connection very explicit. In another Egyptian creation tale, the Creator, having contemplated creation, realizes that all will not be well and that people are potentially in for a lot of grief, heartache, and trouble. Feeling remorseful, the Creator quickly invents magic power (heka, to the ancient Egyptians) for people to use to ward off the harsh blows of fate. Magic is thus a crucial necessity of divine origin.
Another creation myth is both explicit about primordial witchcraft and ambivalent toward it. The Zuni are an indigenous nation of the North American south-west; according to their cosmology, shortly after Earth was populated, a sacred pair, male and female, commonly identified in English translation as “witches,” emerge bearing gifts. While traveling around, examining Earth, this pair, these witches, meet some young women and ask them who they are. The girls say they are Corn Maidens but they have a problem: corn doesn’t exist yet.
The witches immediately remedy the situation, distributing seven varieties of corn as well as squash and melon seeds, the staple diet of the indigenous farmers of the American south-west. This gift stimulates the Corn Maidens to form a pair of lines facing the sun and begin a dance in tribute: the birth of religion and agriculture, with full approval from the witches. This is a nice witch story. The witches, however, also bear another gift: death. They insist death is necessary to prevent Earth from becoming overcrowded. People, however, are horrified and behold witches, responsible for life-saving sustenance and the introduction of death, with suspicion ever after. It is an early acknowledgement of ambivalence toward witchcraft: the power to heal and preserve may also be wielded to harm and destroy.
You don’t hold any stock with mythology and ancient creation tales? That’s OK; let’s take a look at what the archeologists and anthropologists have to say. Plenty of physical evidence documents the primordial origins of witchcraft and magical perspective.

Physical Evidence of Magical Thought
Much of what we know of Paleolithic (Old Stone Age) and Neolithic (New Stone Age) cultures derives from excavations of funerary sites. Survivors lovingly cared for their dead compatriots, preparing them, sometimes painstakingly, sometimes at great expense, for whatever was perceived as lying ahead. They cleansed and groomed the bodies, dressed them, ornamented them with flowers, beads, seashells, and amulets. They left grave goods: whatever was needed for pleasure, nourishment, and safety in the next realm as well as for the journey there. Sometimes payment and/or guides for that journey were magically provided too, as well as guardians to protect whatever was understood to be left behind.
“Life” to these ancient people, clearly didn’t just terminate with death, as if the plug being pulled, everything was over. They had a broader, magical perspective of what constitutes “life” that didn’t end with the last heartbeat or breath. Instead one existence passed into another, one road leading from one realm into another. The modern phenomenon known as the one-way street, however, had yet to be invented. Had it been, there would be far less discussion of shamanism today and maybe none of necromancy. All roads could be accessed from both directions. Mysteries of death and what comes after remain integral to witchcraft.
The mysteries of death were not our ancestors’ only concerns, however; neither are they the main focus of witchcraft. Mysteries of birth and life were equally important—the flip side of the coin.
In 1908, a small statuette depicting a round, rotund female was discovered by the archeologist Josef Szombathy near Willendorf, Austria. The most famous of countless similar statuettes she was nicknamed the “Venus of Willendorf” and is now in Vienna’s natural history museum.
Her nickname was meant ironically. To modern ears, the name “Venus” epitomizes female beauty and grace, which currently almost inevitably means thin, smooth, firm, and youthful. The Willendorf Venus amused the archeologists who discovered her. Like many other statuettes of her era, she is fat and corpulent, displaying rolls of flesh and large, sagging breasts. She is not a figure of humor, however, nor was she intended to be grotesque. She is very carefully crafted. Her hair is beautifully coiffed in seven concentric rings—seven apparently already recognized as a magical number. She is an object of wonder.
How long ago was the Venus of Willendorf crafted? Whose eyes should we attempt to see her through? As the technology of establishing chronology improves, her age has been revised several times, consistently backwards. She was originally thought to date from 15,000 to 10,000 BCE, but the date now suggested is from 24,000 to 22,000 BCE, quite a few years ago. Today, in this era of super-sized meals and sedentary occupations, the Venus of Willendorf’s figure is far from unique. People battle to avoid her shape, resorting to surgery and all sorts of drastic diets. Imagine, however the hard-scrabble existence of some 20,000 years ago. Through the eyes of those days, the Venus of Willendorf must have been regal, queenly, self-contained, divine. She is the image of woman as the source of life, plenty, peace, fertility, and prosperity. Today’s ideal woman is squeezed into as little physical space as humanly possible. Not the Venus of Willendorf. She’s expansive, comfortable, and takes up as much space as she needs.
The Venus of Willendorf is but the most renowned of countless other ancient surviving images of the sacred female. Not all share her figure; some are slender. Almost uniformly, however, those parts of the human anatomy that are uniquely female (breasts, vulva, pregnant belly) are emphasized and frequently exaggerated. Whoever created these images (and they are literally countless and crafted over millennia) made sure that no one could ignore or overlook the fact that they are resolutely, profoundly female.
What we can see is that the people who created and venerated these images were not afraid or repulsed by large women, powerful women, or sexual women. Some of these images seem remote. Some may be wearing masks, others lack facial features altogether, yet virtually all have vaginas, accentuated so that you can’t miss them. Some cradle their breasts, offering them to viewers the way a nursing mother does with her child. Some point knowingly to genitals and swollen bellies. They are simultaneously maternal and sexual. Maternity and dynamic female sexuality were obviously not mutually exclusive to the eyes that carved and beheld these figures. Many are very beautiful even by modern conventional standards, with loving, mysterious faces. What is very clear is that our ancient ancestors perceived profound power and magic in the female form. In fact, many anthropologists and scholars of religion believe that the oldest cosmologies start with a mother. In other words, the very first god was a mother.
And of course, who is more god-like than a mother? It is difficult to remember in these days of modern conveniences like infant formula, hospitals, and nannies but once upon a time survival, happiness, and health depended entirely upon one’s mother. If your mother was powerful, devoted, healthy, and focused on your well-being your future seemed assured. If your mother was vulnerable, unable or unwilling to care for you for any reason, your future was tenuous indeed.
Everyone’s individual mother might be their own private goddess, but actual goddesses served as mothers of communities, tribes, and nations. Many of these simultaneously wonderful and terrible goddesses survive, as for instance India’s Kali and Russia’s Baba Yaga. Kali Mata (Mother Kali) remains an actively venerated Hindu goddess; her vast complexities and contradictions celebrated and wondered upon. By contrast Baba (Grandma) Yaga was banished to the forest and marginalized as a witch.
Loads of wonderful images of the divine female, together with analyses, may be found in Buffie Johnson’s Lady of the Beasts (HarperSanFrancisco, 1988), as well as in the many works of archeologist and historian Marija Gimbutas.
The image of the sacred female doesn’t stand alone. Among the several dancing figures painted in the cave of Les Trois Frères in Ariège, France is one nicknamed the “Dancing Sorcerer.” Dating from approximately 10,000 BCE, this two-and-a-half-foot high figure is a composite of many creatures. He possesses the antlers and torso of a stag and a wolf’s tail. Interpreters argue as to whether his paws and phallus belong to a bear or a lion. The beard and dancing legs definitely belong to a man and there is something essentially human about the entire dancing figure. Many speculate that what we see depicted is a costumed, masked man.
This horned figure may be a dancing shaman or sorcerer, or both. He may be the “Master of the Beasts.” He may be the ancestor of one or more of the wide variety of horned male deities: Cernunos, Herne, Faunus, or Pan, or he may be an early depiction of any or all of them. He will emerge from his hidden cave to haunt us during the Witch-hunts. (See HORNED ONE.)
Among the most historically revealing archeological excavations is that of the city of Çatal Hüyük, located in what is now modern Turkey. The city was rebuilt many times over thousands of years. There are 12 layers on the site; the age of the oldest has not yet been reliably determined but the most recent is from c. 5600 BCE. The entire area was forsaken in approximately 4900 BCE for reasons yet unknown. This was a large city; at its height it’s believed to have supported 6,000 people (a huge population at that time), and it contained many shrines and temples. Among unearthed artifacts are those which are immediately recognizable and meaningful to modern witches and/or goddess devotees: bull’s horns all over the place, images of birthing women strategically placed near these horns, plus a statue of a massive, enthroned woman, seated between a pair of lions or leopards (animals which both once inhabited Europe). The image is recognizable as that of the Magna Mater, the Mountain Mother, the Great Goddess Kybele, who, according to one version of her sacred myth, is a deified witch. (See DIVINE WITCH: Baba Yaga; Kybele.)

Animism
In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Charles Darwin’s then-revolutionary theory of evolution was also applied to the social sciences: so-called social Darwinism. Although this has since fallen from fashion, at one time common anthropological wisdom was firmly convinced that human civilizations preceded orderly through Darwinian stages, with magical thought as the first, earliest stage. Some cultures advanced while others stopped, arrested at that early stage. Magical perspective, the witches’ viewpoint, equaled primitive thought, with “primitive” implying something very negative, the antithesis of “civilization.”
Because contemporary magical thinkers were also perceived as primitive, backwards, and foolish, even when Western and well-educated, there was no thought of consulting with them when excavating sites or examining magical images. (This is changing; archeologists at Çatal Hüyük now engage in discussion with modern goddess devotees.) Instead attempts were made to define magical thinking from an outsider’s point of view, an outsider who was proud of his distance from that perspective.
The word “animism” was coined by the English anthropologist Sir Edward Tylor (2 October 1832–2 January 1917), generally acknowledged as the “father of anthropology.” Tylor gave this name to what was perceived as the earliest phase of magical and religious thinking, deriving it from the Greek “anima” meaning “soul.” According to Tylor, prehistoric humans believed that every person, creature, and object—everything!—had a soul, was animated, and hence the name animism. That Sir Tylor did not identify or particularly empathize with the human subjects of his research is apparent by the words he chose to describe them: “savages” and “rude races.” (No need to pick on Tylor, this was fairly standard language for anthropologists and social scientists of his time and later.)
Animism was perceived as a backward, primitive, uncivilized, unenlightened belief: the lowest rung on the ladder to civilization. That said, if one can cut through the thicket of value judgments, Tylor came very close to defining what might be understood as magical perception: the vision of the world that makes shamanism, witchcraft, and magical practices possible and desirable.
It is an ecstatic vision. In this vision, everything is alive, continually interacts and can potentially communicate, if it so chooses, if it can be so compelled and, most crucially, if you can understand. There is no such thing as an inanimate object. Because you cannot hear or understand them doesn’t mean that rocks, wind, trees, and objects are not communicating or cannot communicate. The shaman can hear, the shaman can understand and, maybe most importantly, the shaman can hold up her end in a dialogue.
The shaman, sorcerer or witch (and whether at this stage of the game there is any difference is subject largely to linguistics) is the person who desires this knowledge and/or shows personal aptitude for this type of communication. This aptitude is invaluable and may have been crucial to the survival, success, and proliferation of the human species. Creation stories tend to end with that magical act of creation. What happened next? Quite often, as in that Zuni tale, the witches show up bearing life-saving knowledge and skill.
Imagine the earliest people on Earth, our most remote ancestors, encountering new plants, strange animals, and substances never before seen. hey have no pre-existing scientific context.
Science posits a lengthy trial-and-error period. Conventional shamanic wisdom suggests that those animated plants, animals, and substances identified themselves and explained their gifts and dangers in a manner comprehensible to the shaman, who served as their medium to the greater human community. Animals, humans’ elder siblings, taught us healing, hunting, and basic living skills. This is not ancient history. This type of shamanism still exists, although it is as endangered as the rainforests in which it is now largely centered.

Shamanic Vision
According to many traditional understandings, there is no such thing as one monolithic world; that perception displays limited vision. Instead, the mundane world we live in, the world we experience only through our five senses, is but one among various realms or planes of existence. Although there may also be others, international conventional shamanic wisdom suggests that the following realms exist:


Earth: the tangible realm of mortal people and creatures

Spirit World: the realm of deities and spiritual beings—angels, fairies, djinn, and so forth

Dreamland: experiences in dreams really happen; just on a different plane of existence

Realm of the Dead: the after-life
These realms are not linear; instead they are simultaneous, parallel. They interconnect. You can communicate across realms; you can travel between them. Spirits go back and forth effortlessly; ghosts sometimes get stuck in the wrong realm and need a shaman to point them in the right direction, maybe giving them a little shove in the process.
Boundaries exist between these different realms, although precisely how permeable those boundaries are or aren’t varies and is dependent on a number of factors, not least being something as simple as time of year. (Thus the time period known as Halloween/Samhain/El Dia de Los Muertos is acknowledged as the time when those borders are particularly permeable, from all directions.) There are portals of entry between realms, if you can find them, if you can survive them, if you have the skill and knowledge to navigate your return. This is the soul-journey of the expert shaman.
Greek and Roman myths tell of Odysseus’ and Aeneas’ journeys to Hades. Orpheus journeys to Hades attempting to escort his beloved Eurydice back from the realm of the dead. In Norse mythology, emissaries are sent to Hel to see whether beloved, deceased Balder could be released. Because these “journeys” are often understood only literally, as if one ventures to the Realm of the Dead in the exact same way one travels to Disneyland, they are too frequently understood as “mythic” only in the sense of being fictional.
Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy of novels envisions another way of accessing portals between realms via the use of a magical tool, the subtle knife.
Shamanic functions include:


Communication with other realms, including those of the spirits and the deceased

Soul retrieval and other forms of healing

Location of lost or stolen items, in particular buried treasure
Despite jokes otherwise, shamanism may be the real first profession. (As for the alternative, many sacred prostitutes simultaneously served as shamans, not passive figures but dynamic ones, especially those engaged in ritual possession, channeling their goddess.) The shaman is a unique specialist although there are cultures that support large multi-person shamanic societies—with “support” frequently being the key word. Typically a community provides for a shaman’s needs in exchange for shamanic services, in particular in hunting/gathering or farming communities.
Sounds like a good deal? Well, yes and no. Shamanism isn’t easy; the experiences can be frightening, unpleasant, and dangerous, acquiring the skills painful, and simultaneously traumatic and exhilarating: typically the pivotal initiation experience is described as a spiritual “death.” Some part of the spiritual anatomy, although not the physical body, dies—ripped apart or butchered by spirits, frequently cooked up in a cauldron, consumed by the spirits and then finally, hopefully, if one passes all tests, put back together (re-membered) and resurrected. The shaman is able to journey into the after-life because she has “died” and returned. She is a liminal figure who exists in several realms simultaneously.
Because it’s dangerous, because there may be a lengthy apprenticeship (despite modern advertising, one cannot become a shaman over a weekend, although certainly skills can be taught), and because skill comes from experience, the full-fledged shaman is often an older person, and very frequently a woman for a variety of reasons. (In some areas, China or Northern Europe for instance, shamanism was exclusively a female preserve for a very long time.)

Hard as it may be to believe today, once upon a time in many places, menopausal women were regarded with a reverence verging on awe; their wise blood retained, its power increased exponentially within

If a woman survived child-bearing, she was also more likely to survive into old age, a phenomenon that may still be witnessed if you calculate the percentage of women to men in virtually every retirement community

On the other hand, a woman with no children to provide for her old age might have a strong incentive to develop psychic skills in order to remain a valued, cared-for member of society
Although some enlist, many more are drafted. Very frequently the individual has little choice in the matter. The spirits choose you, their call manifesting through dreams, visions (not necessarily your own), illness, bad luck, and/or animal attack. Traditionally, in some places, surviving bear, snake, or jaguar attacks was interpreted as a shamanic call.
Sometimes the shaman’s refusal to heed the call affects a whole community adversely: bad luck spreads around, as in the biblical tale of Jonah. (Read it again. He didn’t just accidentally end up in that whale’s belly; there was a reason Jonah found himself lost in the depths of the sea.) If the cause of misfortune is traced back to her recalcitrance, the community may insist that the shaman assume her role or risk ostracism, banishment, or worse—being sacrificed to appease the spirits.
On the other hand, if shamanic aptitude or a calling is recognized, a community may nurture the individual so that she may acquire her skills, providing her with the best material goods, and sometimes tolerating bad, erratic, unpredictable behavior because a powerful, consistently effective shaman is invaluable. The shaman is responsible for the community’s well-being and survival, its life and death. Why? Because shamanic services were perceived as crucial and integral to a wide variety of dangerous pursuits, including:


Childbirth, spiritual initiations, healing, and funerals: dangerous on the spiritual plane because of intense contact with other realms. On the physical plane, risk of physical contamination (infection) frequently exists. (Shamanically-speaking, these planes and dangers are not distinct.)

Hunting: eating meat involves killing a fellow creature, whose spirit guardians must be appeased to avoid disaster and maintain spiritual balance

Agriculture: digging holes or otherwise rooting around in Earth may be understood as rape if Earth hasn’t expressly granted permission, which perhaps only the shaman can hear or interpret. Harvest may be understood as murder, as in “John Barleycorn must die.” Plants are fellow living creatures, possessing their own spirit guardians who must be propitiated and appeased to maintain spiritual balance
There is no need to accuse or ask whether someone is a shaman. Her results speak for themselves. If things consistently aren’t going well, a more successful shaman will be found. It’s a little bit like traditional Chinese medicine, where a physician is desirable and respected only provided her patients remain healthy.
The shaman provides a needed service that, although fraught with spiritual danger, is expected to be reliable and dependable. The shaman must perform functions as needed: like a modern physician, she may be “on call” at all times, 24/7. The popular vision of shamanism as the role primitive societies invented for those with seizure disorders or the mentally unbalanced is incorrect, simplistic, and based on the notion that all other realms and spirits are “made up,” because if they don’t exist then, of course, the shaman’s journey is pure fantasy or fraud.
Shamanism is performed in various ways, through soul-journeying (going to the spirits), or through ritual possession (having them come to you.) The shaman summons spirits and ghosts and sends them packing—exorcism—as individual need arises. Her work may be enhanced by music, especially drums, chants, singing, dance, or silence. The entranced shaman may appear to be asleep or in a coma or even dead. For ancient people lacking scientific context, with no hospital monitoring equipment to measure life, the shaman who appears dead is dead, at least temporarily. She is a figure of tremendous power.
The shaman may develop profound individual ties with animals, plants, spirits, or other allies. The ecstatic component of shamanism cannot be emphasized enough; the very word “ecstasy” derives from a Greek shamanic term “existanai” (“to put out of place” as in a soul out of body). At best, shamanism is an ecstatic, transcendent, rapturous experience, for the individual shaman and also for the community whom she leads in shamanic ritual. This intense, dynamic rapture can be experienced and witnessed through ecstatic music and dance, the best sex, ritual possession, some forms of divination, or glossolalia (speaking in tongues), all of which may be components of shamanism.
Let’s be honest: the shaman can make people nervous, some people anyway, past as well as present. She knows a lot of stuff that you don’t. She knows stuff you don’t even know that you don’t know. Through soul-journeying and clairvoyance, she may know stuff about you that you would prefer not be known.
The shaman is very likely also to be a solitary person, at least some of the time. The soul-journey, the psychic journey is an intensely private, individual experience. The shaman talks with animals; the shaman talks with dead people; the shaman talks with ghosts and spirits who scare other people (and not every spirit or ghost, ancestral or otherwise, is pleasant, attractive, and nice); the shaman may even be able to assume the form of animals. Imagine today, when someone is observed muttering intensely to themselves, should a cell-phone or other similar modern reassurance that all is well not be immediately apparent, most of us will automatically give the mutterer a wide berth. Some shamans mutter all the time. (A Slavic euphemism for witch is “mutterer.”) Are they talking to their spirit allies, your long-dead ex-husband, or some other shaman across town who can magically hear them? Or maybe they’re just nuts. (Among the many telltale stereotypes resulting in an accusation of witchcraft during the Burning Times was being observed muttering to yourself, particularly if you were a ragged, old beggar-woman.)
What if the shaman yields to temptation and puts her powers to personal, selfish use? What if, in a time of conflicting interests, the shaman is bribed to favor one party or another?
New Age people are often dismayed to hear those from traditional cultures speak negatively of witchcraft and witches. Tolerance of witches is expected from these seemingly magic-tolerant societies. Of course, cultures that incorporate magical practices have also been known to burn witches. In these cases, “witch” is often understood to mean a shaman gone bad, a breach of a sacred trust.
The shaman doesn’t have to become corrupt to stop working full-time for the community. Eventually some suffer burn-out, at least temporarily, too tired or psychically drained. Maybe, for one reason or another, the spirits stop talking to you. Some shamans, perhaps following bad experiences (the primordial “bad trip”), failure, emotional exhaustion, psychic torpor, or perhaps just as directed by the spirits, might retreat into privacy—a cave, a hut in the forest, a little home on a mountain top or in a swamp—to recuperate, replenish their energy and live a private, magical life. People would know the shaman was there, this person in the wilds. She might be frightening, they might leave her alone most of the time, warn their children not to bother her—who knows what she could do if provoked?—but in a moment of desperation, when a magical solution seems like the only option, particularly when a private secret magical solution is required, one would know exactly where to go to plead or pay for assistance.
Among those occupations claiming descent from the primal shaman:

Witches, wizards, practitioners of magic

Conjurers, illusionists, purveyors of tricks, ventriloquists, sleight-of-hand artists

Diviners, readers, seers, fortune-tellers

Herbalists and healers of all persuasions, including modern physicians

Musicians, actors, dancers, puppeteers

The Fruitful Earth: “The Fertility Cult”
Anthropological discussions of witchcraft’s origins almost inevitably refer to witchcraft as deriving from ancient “fertility cults.” Little if any explanation is ever given as to exactly what constitutes a fertility cult, as if the meaning of the term should be self-evident. To a very large extent this is because old-school anthropologists—and society in general—were uncomfortable with explicit discussion of sexuality until recent decades (and not always even now).
The use of the word “cult” is the tip-off that we are outsiders looking in. Cult is a word used by outsiders to describe a phenomenon of which they are not part and toward which they bear either ambivalence or disapproval. “Cult” in modern usage carries a negative connotation: we have religion, strange other people have cults. At best, “fertility cult” has an archaic ring evoking Orientalist images of sacred prostitution. At worst, “cult” carries sinister overtones: people must be rescued from “cults,” deprogrammed from the brainwashing kind.
Those old-school anthropologists may have been looking with outsiders’ eyes but they weren’t completely off-base or wrong: witchcraft, from its primal roots to this year’s Halloween paraphernalia, demonstrates a profound preoccupation with fertility, even if it isn’t always blatant or easily recognized. So, in plain English, what is this fertility cult?
Now, first, stop rolling your eyes. Since the emergence of the women’s rights movement, terms like “fertility cult” and the traditional preoccupation with maternity have fallen into disrepute and for good reason. Over the centuries reverence for women’s reproductive abilities evolved into a trap with women only valued for potential fertility, like some prized chicken or cow.
Although obviously reproduction is crucial to survival as a species, it may not have been the literal output, the end-results, that were worshipped but instead a perception of women’s fertility power, a female equivalent of something similar to machismo, for which (significantly) no word or name now exists—with the exception perhaps of certain understandings of “witch.” Machismo, perceived as intense male virility, almost a hyper-masculinity, is a perceived power potentially projected by men regardless of whether they are engaged in sexual activity at that moment. The dynamic power, the capacity, is always there, regardless of whether it’s used.
Likewise, women may have been understood to radiate fertility-power, for lack of a better name, whether or not they were actively engaged in reproduction. This is based on the very ancient use of contraception and abortion in areas that especially venerated sexy fertility goddesses, as well as on the image of specific female spirits of fertility, like Artemis, who emphatically and deliberately lack children. The Artemisia family of plants, which are intimately identified with witchcraft, were gifts from Artemis to humans, hence their name. They were used in ancient times as menstrual regulators: historically they have been used for either encouraging or terminating pregnancy.
To understand the ancient obsession with fertility one has to appreciate just how hard life was once upon a time. We in the modern industrialized world are buffered from so much of life’s harshness. Human remains suggest that the average Paleolithic lifespan was only about 33 years. Death was a constant presence. Hunger, thirst, illness, the dangers of a harsh environment—remaining alive was not a passive act. Death, hunger, sterility must be consciously, vigilantly, consistently warded off.
The emphasis on fertility and rebirth that one sees in the most ancient human artwork and spiritual artifacts is an act of sheer defiance. It expresses the determination to survive, to bear children and see them survive, and to ecstatically celebrate and experience every possible moment of joy wrenched from potentially bitter experience: this is the birth of spirituality, religion, and witchcraft.
At its most primal and ancient, the fertility cult, for lack of anything better to call it, acknowledges that life is precious, sacred, potentially full of joy but all too often tenuous and fraught with danger. Earth is a wonderful place; there is no better place to be but life is short and continually threatened. Life and the forces that renew and regenerate it are sacred but must be constantly, carefully, enhanced, empowered, and preserved. To remain alive, to bring forth new life, one cannot be passive. Life emerges from a balancing act between male and female forces. The world can be divided into complementary energies. There are forces that bring forth life (yin/female), there are forces that stimulate that process (yang/male). There are forces that generate fertility, understood as abundance of all kinds, as well as those that serve as obstacles and challenges.
When these forces are harmoniously balanced, life is preserved and continues to be generated. Times are good and living is comparatively easy. Earth, left alone, possesses her own balancing act but if one, whether individual or community, possesses a personal agenda with specific desired results, whether personal fertility, animal husbandry, hunting or agriculture, then the balancing act becomes more precarious. Those scales must be tipped in your favor.
The Chinese yin-yang pictogram provides a visual depiction for this philosophy. Black yin and white yang are nestled beside each other; each contains a spark of the other’s essence. They are not mutually exclusive forces but require each other to exist. They do not war with each other. Their opposition may be understood as the opposing force that permits a vaulted ceiling to exist. Each needs the other: there is no perception of black without white, no perception of cold without knowledge of heat. Disharmony arises when there is imbalance between forces, when one side threatens to overwhelm the other.
Earth’s complementary energies may be divided into affinities or affiliations. Thus women are affiliated with darkness, the moon, water, and certain kinds of magic powers. All are connected and share an essence:


If the moon’s phases are consistent and reliable, all is well.

If a woman’s phases are consistent and reliable, all is well

If a woman’s phases are inconsistent or unreliable, they can be realigned by strengthening her affinity with the moon, the tides, and other lunar forces
Women are sacred and powerful because they can give life, because their bodies reflect the lunar phases, because the emergence of womanhood and fertility is announced by the rhythmic shedding of magical blood (and in many tribal societies, just as in many offices or wherever women live closely together, menstruation becomes synchronized and frequently linked to a specific moon phase).
Women are sacred and powerful because they can magically provide nourishment from their own body in a god-like manner. Every woman thus is potentially a goddess; it is the image of the female divine brought down to life. Sparks of sacred life exist in every woman. It is no wonder that the most ancient depictions of divinity are modeled after females, whether human, animal, bird or fish.
So is this it? The fertility cult as a celebration of women? Yes and no.
Men are magic, too. It doesn’t matter how magical and god-like the female is, there’s no reproduction without men, as is clear from tales of the machinations that Amazons or other female-only societies go through in order to conceive. It couldn’t be clearer than in the ancient tale of Isis, Mistress of Magic, who has enough power to stop the sun in the sky but can’t conceive the child she is destined to bear without sexual intercourse. Isis can resurrect her dead husband long enough for a quickie, she can charm up a working gold penis because the original went missing during the resurrection process, but with all that power she is unable to conceive a child without sperm.
It doesn’t matter how fertile Earth is, if it doesn’t rain or if irrigation isn’t otherwise provided, there will be no harvest. No rain, no growth. No semen, no pregnancy. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to understand these simple facts.
Anthropologists debate as to whether the ancients understood the male role in reproduction. Although their understanding was certainly not as technical or analytical as the modern understanding of pregnancy and conception, based on a slew of ancient virile storm gods (Zeus, Baal, Thor, Chango) clearly some connection was made; some appreciation that men, too, are integral to conception.
Women bear but men activate, the process. Sometimes the deity manifests in the form of a dancing shamanic man (Dionysus, Shiva, Bes), while in other cases he is a primordial source of fertility, the personified irrepressible procreative urge (Ogun, Faunus, and countless horned male spirits).
Other connections were made as well. Symbols radiate power. Basic magical fertility theory involves manipulation of various powers to generate a constant, steady, healthy, beneficial flow of fertility, not just of human beings but all living interconnected beings. The ultimate symbol, sacred short-hand transcending language, is the union of human genitalia. Each depicted separately radiates a magical, protective force. Put together they magically generate life.
Images of the human genitalia rank among the oldest religious artifacts; some images still linger on the outskirts of modern religious symbolism. Often the genitals are divorced from the rest of the body and venerated independently, such as Himalayan lingams and yonis. Sometimes the whole package is left intact, as with ithyphallic statues of gods. (In plain English, this means statues depicting deities with erect, prominent, sometimes really big penises.) You don’t have to go back thousands of years; this imagery is recent too, as in the suppressed sacred genital imagery of traditional Japanese culture or that modern tourist souvenir, the Thai penis amulet.
Sometimes the imagery is more abstract, often geometric. Triangles are utilized to demonstrate the directions of genitals: upward for the male, downward for the female. The hexagram, the six-pointed Star of David, depicts their merger, the union of fire and water. The protective image of the triangle is ubiquitous in what belly-dancers call “tribal style.” You’ll see it on countless Oriental rugs and Middle Eastern amulets. It is also ubiquitous in the Western witch’s wardrobe: she is rarely shown without her peaked, triangular hat.
Representations of this sacred merger of male and female may be observed elsewhere:


The pestle in the mortar

The fire in the hearth

The stick in the broom

The broomstick between the legs

The sword in its scabbard

The foot in the shoe (think about the prominence of shoes in wedding rituals)
Other fertility motifs may be harder for the modern eye to catch, mainly because our industrialized landscape is so vastly different from those of our ancestors who, as the cliché goes, lived much closer to nature. The most prominent of these are cattle horns, which in form symbolically unite male and female generative forces. The phallic connection may seem obvious, but cattle horns are also potently linked to female generative power. Think of all those ancient cow goddesses: Hathor, Isis, Io. The very continent of Europe is named in honor of Europa who rode a bull across the sea and who is virtually always depicted holding onto one horn.
What ancient eyes were exposed to that we are missing, in addition to the ubiquitous presence of cattle, was the inside of the human body, viewed without any modern scientific context. When a body was opened up (whether because of murder, funeral or sacrificial procedure, Caesarian section, curiosity, or exploration), the resemblance of the female reproductive organs, from the ovaries, moving down the fallopian tubes into the vaginal canal, to a bull’s skull with horns was noted. The connection is very explicitly portrayed in relief on Çatal Hüyük shrine walls. Images of the parturient (birthing) goddess are placed above bulls’ skulls with enormous horns, or sometimes over just the horns alone. The female figure’s belly may be marked with a circle, emphasizing the promise that lies within. Luckily, that promise is easily, consistently, observed in the horns and so it isn’t necessary to look inside the body. Instead that promise, that symbol, may be observed on every sacred cow.
You can see those horns, that promise of generative power, in the sky too, depending upon the phase of the moon. The Egyptian goddesses Hathor and Isis are often depicted as beautiful, elegant, generous women wearing horned headdresses with a full moon held between the points. The horns within the female body are connected through essence and affinity with lunar horns in the sky, the cow’s horns on Earth and the horns of powerful female deities.
Horns on a male deity invariably indicate that he’s virile, sexually insatiable, always ready, willing and able, hot, horny. Horns on amulets, like those found amongst traditional Italian amulets, protect and generate male reproductive ability. They also ward off the Evil Eye, understood as the antithesis of fertility.
The image of the sacred cow is almost as universal as witchcraft. It’s found in ancient statuary and in cave paintings. The sacred cow survives in modern India but once upon a time it was also common in Egypt, Greece, Ireland, Scandinavia, the Middle East and throughout Africa, not to mention the traditional Native American veneration of the buffalo, a form of wild cattle. This veneration hides in the Bible too: not only in the obvious golden calf, believed to represent Hathor or her son, but also in Leah, the only innately fertile biblical matriarch, whose name may be translated as “wild cow.” Even today describing a woman as “cow-eyed,” like the goddess Hera, is still considered a great compliment in Greece, a testament to female beauty, although it doesn’t translate well into English.
It isn’t the cow or bull that is worshipped in such fertility cults—it’s the potential and promise that they so potently represent, symbolize, and epitomize that is viewed with such veneration. The fertility cult isn’t limited to awe for cattle either. Other animals were recognized as radiating profound fertility power too:


Those perceived as resembling human reproductive organs (hedgehogs, snakes, weasels)

Those perceived as being especially prolific (cats, rabbits, frogs, toads)

Those able to reproduce in the most challenging environments (snakes again, scorpions)
All of these animals will be encountered when we explore those animals most associated with witchcraft (see ANIMALS).
The basis of the “fertility cult” is that life is beautiful and precious. Earth is wonderful, sacred; there is no better place to be. Physical expression of life is sacred and worthy of regeneration and reproduction. The physical universe—Earth and her living waters, the moon, other animals, plants, spiritual entities, the very human body—all are linked in a holistic web. In the best of all possible worlds, all powers within this universe are in balance, with good health, the potential for new life as desired, happiness, and joy as the result.
It’s not all positive, however. What of those who are barren, who can’t or won’t conceive? What if your individual goals are different than those of the community? What if your vision for your future, for whatever reason, doesn’t involve reproduction? If involuntary infertility is linked to spiritual imbalance, what is the perceived impact of the individual on the community? The barren woman may be perceived as dangerous to the common good, particularly in societies where agriculture and individual fertility are intensely linked.
Because women are linked to the moon, to Earth, seeds, and growth, and because those affinities aren’t perceived as only traveling one-way, an inability or unwillingness to conceive is often understood as adversely affecting the harvest, and hence everyone’s ability to eat. A woman’s infertility may be contagious or emblematic of some kind of dangerous imbalance or spiritual violation.
The healer/shaman/witch who can remedy this situation, producing miracles, stimulating conception whether through herbalism, negotiation with the spirits or any other magical process is a valued, priceless member of society. She is also feared: if she can increase odds of pregnancy, she probably has the power to decrease or eliminate it too. Maybe someone’s infertility is her fault.
Of course, all of this postulates that fertility, sex, human bodies, existence on the Earthly plane is a good thing, and thus worthy and desirous of being reproduced. This, however, isn’t a view shared by all.

Dualism
Of course, there’s more than one way of making sense of the universe. The perspective of the “fertility cult” understands the world as filled with magical forces that must be balanced and carefully manipulated to achieve harmony. If any of these forces is pushed too far in any direction, balance is shattered and disharmony reigns; growth (fertility, prosperity, abundance) stagnates or stops.
But what if you’re seeing it all wrong? What if those forces cannot be balanced but are diametrically opposed? What if these forces are really in mortal combat? What if the perception that making love is sacred is only an illusion and instead what is really being made is spiritual warfare? What if the magic unification of two complementary forces (male/female) is impossible and the only possible outcome of a meeting between these two opposing forces is victory for one side, submission for the other?
What if that yin-yang symbol depicting merger and complementary coexistence of opposing forces is incorrect? Maybe the true diagram that maps existence is linear: two columns arranged like a balance sheet, or like a chessboard with opposing pieces lined up on either end.
No longer a spectrum, the material word can be organized into oppositional pairs:



Contrasting powers are no longer understood as complementary forces arranged on a spectrum; instead they are oppositional and no spectrum exists. There are no gray areas. Boundaries between oppositional forces are clear, distinct, and absolute. (In other words, no little white dot inside the black side or black dot within the white as in the yin-yang symbol.) Each opposing force is mutually exclusive of the other.
Every item on one side of the balance sheet is linked to every other item on its side and opposed to all items on the other. Each item on one side shares an essence with the others on its side; they serve the same master. The categories on this world balance sheet not only include physical observations but perceived moral, value judgments as well:


Because “evil” is now understood as absolutely distinct from “good,” serious theological concerns arise as to the origins of evil, where it comes from, who’s responsible and how it may be eradicated, once and for all. Questions as to who is leading each side, exactly who’s responsible and in charge, become crucial.
Those concerns aren’t relevant to the old shamanic/fertility cult perspective. It doesn’t figure value judgments into the equation, at least not on an abstract basis. Any power (light, dark, masculine, feminine) may be used for good or evil; it is how it is used that affects the outcome. The power in itself is neutral. This is absolutely not the case with what will become known as “dualism.”
I’ve given a very, very, very simplistic explanation of a profound disagreement in perspective that ultimately had earth-shattering, world-altering consequences, not least on spirituality, witchcraft, and women’s roles. How we treat women, children, the Earth, our natural environment, plants, and animals all derive from this dichotomy. At its most basic, the difference between the two perspectives stems from a very simple root: some people tolerate ambiguity (and may even enjoy it) while others do not.
The dualist perspective stems from very human emotions: fear and anxiety, a desire for security, clarity and order, firm unwavering boundaries, a need to categorize. Look at the balance sheet: order and clarity emerge on the same balance side as good, safe, and light. Male is on that side, too, as is right, high, and white. That old shamanic swirling world of invisible, merging, ambiguous powers is chaotic, fluid, and messy. It finds itself on the balance sheet on the same side as evil, dark, dangerous, wild, and female.
The word “dualism” is derived from the Latin duo, “two.” In English, the name also contains a pun: the two sides on that eternal chessboard duel with each other. That’s the most basic explanation of “dualism” although that word, like “witchcraft” has come to mean many things to many people. (In psychological and literary circles, as opposed to religious and historical ones, “dualism” is often used to discuss philosophers like Kant, Heidegger, and Descartes.) However, at its most basic, the term is used to denote a theological system that explains the universe as the outcome of two eternally opposed and conflicting principles, such as good and evil. There is no way to balance these forces because balance implies compromise and compromise strengthens evil. Everything in the universe can be classified on one side or the other. If classification isn’t clear, if something is ambiguous, then it’s quite obvious on which side of the balance sheet that something belongs.
In the dualist view, soul and body are distinct, and potentially in serious conflict. There’s only one of each and by nature they are out of balance. Too much attention to the finite body (and for extreme dualists, any attention) only places the immortal soul in danger. To strengthen the side of good, the perishable physical body must be sublimated, perhaps even mortified, and the soul nourished. Immortality is achieved through the survival and salvation of the soul.
On the other hand, sometimes these perspectives of the world are two sides of a single coin, like seeing the same glass as either half-full or half-empty. For instance, because women bring forth new humans from their own bodies and can provide nourishment from those bodies, and because parallels are clearly observed between women’s bodies and such physical phenomena as lunar phases and tides, in the shamanic/fertility cult perspective, women are perceived as embodying divine energy. This is because those lunar phases, nature, the whole physical world are all understood to be sacred.
From the dualist perspective, however, those very same observations of women, their reproductive ability, their associations with the dark depths of night and ocean, all indicate women’s powerful affinity with the physical world, which is affiliated with the evil side of the universal balance sheet, hence turning her into a danger zone for men’s immortal souls.
It is hard to conceive of a philosophy that has had greater worldwide impact than dualism. It has infiltrated virtually every corner of Earth, its roots so deep that they permeate our very languages. Without an understanding and awareness of dualism, you cannot understand the fear, revulsion, and/or ambivalence so many feel towards witchcraft. Because of this it is worth our while to take a brief tour through the history of dualism.
Its birthplace seems to have been in Persia, in what is now modern Iran, from whence it spread through the Middle East, the Mediterranean and beyond. Dates vary as to when Zoroaster (Zarathusra) was born in Iran. Conservative Zoroastrians, members of the religion founded on his teachings, suggest 6000 BCE. Historians generally suggest sometime between 1500 and 1000 BCE. Previously, Iranian religion had been similar to that of polytheistic Mesopotamia and the pagan Middle East. Zoroaster preached a new faith with a new perspective. Initially he was attacked for his ideas, but eventually he found favor with the king. Zoroastrianism became the state religion and remained so until the Islamic jihad arrived in Persia in 650 CE. Many Zoroastrians fled to India where a community remains, as they do in Iran and elsewhere.
Although these facts may be unfamiliar to most Western readers, elements of Zoroastrian religion will be familiar to many:


Zoroastrianism envisions the universe as a battleground of two gods who existed from the beginning: the Lord of Light and Righteousness and the Lord of Darkness and Evil. The universe is divided between into their armies, including people, who must choose a side. Fence-sitting is not an option; there is no gray area, no middle-ground; it is a world of distinct, clear boundaries. One must actively, consciously enlist in the army of the Lord of Light because if one does not do so then one willingly or inadvertently supports the opposition, the Lord of Darkness

Many Zoroastrians believe in a savior born from a virgin of the lineage of Zoroaster who will raise the dead and preside over the Final Judgment

In the inevitable final show-down, the apocalyptic battle between the forces of good and evil, the Lord of Darkness and his forces will be destroyed. The dead will be resurrected and the world purged and cleansed via a flood of molten metal, although only the wicked are scalded. The righteous will wade through this fiery flood as if through warm milk

There is a Final Judgment of souls. Sinners are punished (but ultimately forgiven) and then humans will be immortal, free from all Earthly ills: death, disease, old age, hunger, poverty
This vision of a world struggling between forces of good and evil permeates the philosophies and spiritual traditions known as “Gnosticism” as well.
In the most literal sense, gnosis refers to the knowledge or understanding (divine comprehension) that produces, or at least supports spiritual salvation. The Gnostic is saved when he personally sees the light and experiences epiphany.
There was never one unified Gnostic movement. Instead the term refers to a series of schools and teachers, emerging in strength during the first century CE, centered mainly in Egypt and Judea. There’s wide variety, a broad spectrum of beliefs held by the various Gnostic schools, and Pagan, Jewish, and Christian schools of Gnosticism exist. Eventually, Gnostic philosophy would exert a profound influence on mainstream Christianity.
Although there are many variations on the theme, a typical Gnostic vision goes something like this: despite religious propaganda to the contrary, the material world was not created by the highest, good God. A lower being formed the physical world but in the process, true divine sparks of light were trapped. Thus Earth is corrupt, tainted, or even possibly evil, but it contains sparks of godly, divine, trapped goodness that can potentially be nurtured, saved, freed, and redeemed. Human suffering derives from entrapment in this physical world, which is governed by an Evil Being who impersonates God and usurps His power.
Some ancient Gnostic Christians perceived that the creator of the physical world—the demi-urge in Gnostic-speak—was the God of the Old Testament. Christ was an emissary sent to bypass the demi-urge by the true God. Once the notion of the Trinity became established, incorporating the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, however, this perception became problematic and was considered heretical.
To put it mildly, the early centuries of the Common Era were times of tremendous spiritual seeking. Back in Persia, dualist philosophy continued to evolve. In 216 CE, a man named Mani (Manes) was born near the Tigris River in Babylonia, modern Iraq but then part of the Persian Empire. He was an intensely restless spiritual pilgrim who traveled widely, seeking enlightenment. Born a Zoroastrian, he studied and experimented with Buddhism and Gnosticism and even converted to mainstream Christianity for a while.
No religion he encountered satisfied him, although he found truths in many. He perceived all of them as incomplete, so he decided to perfect them, proclaiming himself the messiah of a new faith, Manicheism, characterized by an intense dualist vision.
Mani was a prolific artist and writer, setting down his philosophy and vision in words and drawings that were preserved for centuries. His became an important faith, not only during his lifetime but also for many centuries afterwards, with communities of adherents from Persia to Spain to China. Manicheism, at one time, was considered to be among Christianity’s chief competitors. The Church perceived Manicheism as a great threat and actively campaigned against it for centuries. None of Mani’s drawings, and only fragments of his writings survive because they were systematically searched out and destroyed by the Roman Catholic Church.
Mani’s luck changed when a new Persian ruler devoted to Zoroastrianism came to power. As the story goes (and to be fair, the story derives from those as opposed to the Zoroastrian magi as they were to Mani) the magi perceived Mani as a competitor and pressured the king, Bahram I, to arrest and condemn him. Various reports exist of his death, every one of them horrific. Either he was crucified, or flayed alive, or beheaded with his head stuck on a pole for extended public display. His martyrdom, however, only increased his popularity among some believers and made his faith, with its martyred, possibly crucified messiah, even more of an alternative path to Christianity.
The mission of Manicheism is to entirely separate spiritual light from material darkness. If and when this process is complete, then the Kingdom of Darkness will be for ever defeated. A microcosm of this war is fought out within each human being as the soul struggles to break free from the corporal body, while simultaneously the corporal body, under the dominion of the Lord of Darkness, tempts and encourages backsliding. Each person must achieve individual salvation: each human is a battlefield for the forces of Light and Darkness. You must actively choose your side. Among the keys to achieving liberation of one’s spiritual essence is an unwavering, complete obedience to the Manichean Church.
Some people are closer to that goal than others. Persons on the verge of spiritual liberation were known as the Elect. The Elect led highly disciplined, ascetic lives, abstaining from sex because indulgence in sensual pleasures (sex for its own sake) strengthens the body at the expense of the soul, and because babies, the result of sex for reproduction, are but fresh prisons for entrapped sparks of light. Furthermore, those precious sparks of light may be contained within sperm, which should thus be protected from the moist, darkness of the womb.
The Elect maintained a strict vegetarian diet, with one exception. Saint Augustine (13 November 354–28 August 430), a Manichean for nine years prior to his conversion to Christianity, reports that the Elect ritually consumed a concoction of dough and semen, the theory being that the trapped sparks of light might be liberated if consumed by those on the brink of salvation themselves.
Saint Augustine, pillar of the Christian Church, was a spiritual seeker, too, who explored pagan paths and Manicheism before devoting himself to Christianity. Although he rejected much Manicheist doctrine, Augustine also introduced the Manichean world-view into conventional Christian thought. Among those doctrines rejected by Augustine is the notion that knowledge (gnosis) leads to liberation. In Augustine’s view, humans are too tainted by Original Sin to accomplish salvation either through knowledge or other individual effort. It can only be achieved through obedience to Christian doctrine, the shepherd guiding the flock. However, he did retain the basic Manichean distrust of matter and the material—especially regarding sex.
Augustine taught that Adam’s defiance of God (as stimulated by Eve) produced a state of unbalanced desire (concupiscence) which infects every sexual act with the possible exception of completely pleasure-free, mechanical intercourse solely for the purpose of reproduction within the clear, firm boundaries of lawful Christian marriage.
Dualism permeates world culture, human culture, and especially Western culture. Dualist influence so pervades the vocabulary of modern spirituality that we don’t consider what common words literally mean: redemption, salvation, liberation—from what? They derive from the dualist world-view:

Redemption of the soul from the prison of the body

Salvation of the soul from its Earthly trap
Dualists are right: dualism and the fertility cult, shamanic or otherwise, are incompatible views. From the moment of its emergence, dualism has been on an intense, inevitable collision course with those celebrating the cult of fertility, who wish to revel in Earth rather than be saved from her. At their roots, they are genuinely two oppositional viewpoints, two ways of looking at, organizing, and understanding the world. On the dualist side, there is no room for tolerance because compromise means that you’ve assented to the power of the Lord of Darkness. Very frequently, dualists have categorized people they’ve encountered who have possessed a shamanic or fertility-cultish perspective as “witches.” The results for those thus categorized, whether in Europe, North America, Africa or elsewhere, have consistently been disastrous.
It’s very tempting to see the “fertility cult” as the ancestor of witchcraft and dualism as that of its opponents; that very temptation demonstrates why dualism can be so attractive. Real life, however, is rarely that black-and-white and that would be a simplistic vision that denies the complexity of witchcraft as well as world history.
There are very few places left on Earth that have not been influenced by both dualism and the more ancient shamanic/fertility cult. Most cultures blend these influences to varying degrees. Dualism even pervades the world of witchcraft. In those immortal words spoken by Glinda to Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” Many, if asked whether they are a witch, answer affirmatively but stipulate that they are a “good” witch, as if whatever powers they possess can only be used for good, not possibly for ill. (This may make the self-identified witch more comfortable with her identity, however historically, this distinction has made no difference to dualist authority, who often perceive the “good” witch as even more dangerous than her evil sister. See WITCHCRAZE!)
Witchcraft, defined as magical practices, is seemingly a crucial human need. Like the Egyptians’ heka, it emerges whenever it is necessary to attempt to ward off those harsh blows of fate or maybe whenever there’s just not enough joy and fun around. Witchcraft exists everywhere in various forms, and is thus found in all kinds of communities possessing all sorts of philosophies. What differs is how witchcraft is perceived (by the witches as well as outsiders) and whether it operates secretly or openly.

Animals (#ulink_4ce90e69-b705-59cd-86fe-d4b7fb1d6325)
Where would the witch be without her cat? That black dog over there—is that a stray roaming loose, a disguised witch on the prowl or a messenger for the goddess Hecate? And those flies buzzing around? Do they merely indicate the presence of food or do they hold deeper significance?
Around the world, specific animals are associated with witchcraft. In some societies, certain animals are so intrinsically identified with witchcraft that should you have a close association with one (or in an era of witchcraft hysteria, even a brushing acquaintance will do), there’ll be no need to ask whether you’re a witch; that very relationship defines you as one.
There is no creature, living, extinct, or mythical, that does not have its place among the magical powers of witchcraft. Each creature possesses its own magical powers, to be drawn upon by the human practitioner as needed. Elks, for instance, are invoked for romance; dragons to guard wealth. However, certain animals are specifically identified with witchcraft, whether as teachers of the art or because of relationships with witches. These are the animals that are featured in this section.
Animals closely identified with witchcraft are invariably also closely identified with sex, birth, death, secret wisdom, wild nature, and/or intensely radiant male or female reproductive energy, the potential for creation, and hence magic. What is a magic spell, after all, but the act of bringing something into existence?
The various magical partnerships between animals and people, including such concepts as familiars, allies, and nahuals are also discussed in this section, as is transformation, which incorporates the various magical and spiritual traditions that blur the boundaries between species.
While outside observers may sometimes react to the witchcraft animals with fear, witches and other magical practitioners traditionally view their animals as partners and their relationships as alliances.

Allies
In magical theory, it’s generally acknowledged that every individual possesses allies in the various realms: botanical, mineral, spirit, and animal. They share your essence and possess a loyalty and affinity toward you, and so are reliable magical partners. As an example, the Egyptian goddess Isis is affiliated with myrrh, bloodstone, a constellation of compatible fellow spirits, cows, scorpions, snakes, and crocodiles. She also has alliances with certain people, whom she protects but who are expected to offer devotion in exchange.
Alliances, as their name implies, are mutual relationships: obligations exist on both sides. These are not relationships to be exploited but are instead meant to be treasured and nurtured. It is a loving, caring relationship and as such cannot be forced or compelled on either side.
Because animals are closest in nature to humans, they are our most accessible allies. Different people possess different needs: some are fairly solitary, one or two allies may be sufficient, in the same manner that one or two human friends are sufficient. Social butterflies may require a crowd. Some alliances are life-long; others are transitory, ships passing in the night. It’s believed that every individual is born with at least one ally from each realm. (They accompany you through incarnations.) Other alliances may be forged as needed during a lifetime.
A familiar is an ally but an ally may not be a familiar. Familiars are generally understood to be exactly what their name implies: familiar. These are animals with whom one can share your home and daily life: ferrets, cats, dogs, hedgehogs, birds, frogs, and snakes. Extended contact need not be difficult or dangerous. Depending upon circumstances, a wild or potentially dangerous creature may become your familiar but they must choose you as, for instance, wild dolphins, which will occasionally form a friendship with a specific swimmer.
The possibility of familiars, then, is relatively limited whereas the world of animal allies is vast. What if domestic animals don’t fulfill your magical needs—your magic requires a komodo dragon or a snow leopard? What if your magic requires a velociraptor, a dragon, or a unicorn?
Because these animals may be accessed on a spirit level, animals with whom one could not normally have true contact become possible allies. Whether one possesses a relationship with a specific spirit-animal or with the spirit presiding over that animal is subject to interpretation and may vary.
How do you discover the identities of your allies? Various methods exist:
Consciously or subconsciously, their identities may already be known to you. Intense passionate emotions, whether positive or not, may indicate an existing alliance. If you just adore lynxes, well, there you are. Conversely, passionate fear may also indicate alliance. (Where there’s no relationship, there tends to be little emotion, one way or the other, just neutrality.) Arachnophobes, I hate to break the news…
Animals may reveal themselves to you. Magic scoffs at the concept of coincidence. If something reoccurs with frequency, pay attention: it may be a clue.
Alliances may be revealed through dreams. Do certain animals consistently appear in your dreams? These may be your allies. Animals that feature in nightmares may also be allies; the nightmares may be due to miscommunication. A fierce wolf lies in wait for you in Dreamland, consistently appearing in your dreams. Terrified, you run or hide. The wolf, who longs to assist you or at least travel by your side, pursues, unable to communicate with you in a manner that would soothe your fears. This is a stalemate, the consistently reappearing nightmare that makes sleep something to dread and avoid. Next time some creature or person pursues you in a dream, don’t run. Stop, turn, face them, and ask them what they want. (This takes practice. Don’t feel bad if you can’t immediately accomplish something that sounds so simple. Before going to sleep, verbally affirm your plan of action and eventually it will work.) Because it’s a dream, anything can happen; you may be very pleasantly surprised.
Allies are revealed through divination. Various divination systems, usually cards, are commercially available; many are wonderful and extremely effective. The one drawback to these systems is that they tend to emphasize animals from a specific locale (Celtic or indigenous American most typically) and by nature are limited to a finite number of choices. Remember that you do not have to be limited to a set number of allies and that one can incorporate various systems as well as other methods.
Alliances are revealed through shamanic vision. Traditionally visions have been incubated through ascetic practices such as fasting or extended solitude in a place of power such as a cave or mountain, although with the exception of the extremely experienced, these practices tend to be mentored and supervised. (Always make sure that you are safe and that someone knows where you are and when to look for you.)
Alliances are identified through visualization, of which various methods exist.
Allow yourself to be surprised. Although you may be sure you know your allies’ identities, hidden allies may shock you when they reveal themselves. Also, do not be disappointed. We long for alliances with dramatic, romantic, wild, powerful creatures that bolster our self-image and are dismayed when instead our allies are revealed as ants, slugs, and bees. Every creature has power and gifts to share. Ants teach important lessons about persistence; rats are the ultimate survival artists, and in many places are perceived as incredibly lucky allies to have. Negative perceptions are often cultural. If you have negative perceptions of an animal, explore and research different perspectives and you may be pleasantly surprised. Spiders and bats for instance, while ominous in some cultures are incredibly auspicious in others.
Alliances may also be earned. If you crave a relationship with a particular animal, earn it by showing yourself to be a true ally. If you long for a hippopotamus ally, for instance, work to protect the species and preserve its natural environment. Investigate and see what needs to be done. On the spiritual level, erect an altar (or build a website) in the creature’s honor or devote one to its presiding spirit or affiliated deity. Should your good works draw attention, the desired ally will signal to you by using one of the previously discussed methods.
See also: Familiars, Nahual.

Baboons
Baboons are the animals most especially identified with witchcraft throughout Africa, alongside bats, hyenas, and owls. Historically and currently, baboons are understood to serve as witches’ familiars or mounts, or even to be witches themselves.
Although an accident of alphabetical order, for a variety of reasons, it is fitting that an encyclopedia of witchcraft’s selection of featured animals should begin with the baboon:


According to Egyptian myth, a baboon deity is responsible for the invention of magic

Few other animals, perhaps only cats or wolves, can demonstrate so powerfully how a creature once beheld as sacred, powerful, valuable, and god-like can become diabolized and perceived as worthless, embarrassing pests

Persecution of baboons because of their perceived identification with witchcraft didn’t end thousands or even hundreds of years ago, but continues today
Baboons are descended from Old World monkeys. There are two sub-species, gelada and savanna, with the savanna baboons further divided into five sub-species: Chacma; Guinea; Olive; Yellow; Hamadryas (the sacred or dogfaced baboon).
Gelada baboons are found only in Ethiopia’s Simien Mountains, and the formerly sacred hamadryas is now endangered. However on the whole, baboons are the most successful of all Africa’s monkeys and are widely distributed throughout the continent. They are also found on the Arabian Peninsula.
Their very proliferation has caused them to be exterminated as vermin, with some communities offering a bounty on their heads. (Ironically, once upon a time baboons were sacred symbols of fecundity.) Biologists who specialize in baboons frequently spend considerable time convincing local farmers not to shoot baboons on sight.
Farmers very often dislike baboons, perceiving them as competition. Baboons are smart, aggressive, organized, and clannish—and they want to feed their families. They’re wary, suspicious, and may take flight easily; however don’t mistake that for being intimidated. As wild territory becomes scarce, rather than retreating baboons, unlike some other animals, will enter human territory looking for food, “stealing” fruit and produce as well as the occasional baby goat. Associations with witchcraft do not increase their popularity.
Male baboons possess something of a reputation as belligerent brawlers, although recent studies indicate that this reputation may not be entirely deserved, or at least not as across-the-board as once perceived. They certainly look fierce, possessing huge, sharp canine teeth, which they display as a sign of aggression and dominance.
When it comes to discussing or observing baboons there’s little avoiding the topic of sex, as their genitalia tend to be particularly prominent. No Viagra needed here: it apparently takes very little stimulus for the male baboon to display and maintain an impressive erection—particularly noticeable with the hamadryas, whose luxuriant mane doesn’t cover his private parts or his vivid red behind. Baboons greet each other via genital presentation (inspection). Hans Kummer, author of In Quest of the Sacred Baboon, suggests that the animal’s lunar associations derive from the females’ round genital swellings, which fluctuate in monthly rhythms similar to those of the moon and, by extension, women’s menstrual periods.
Baboons feature prominently in Egyptian mythology. Whenever Egyptian myth discusses baboons, the reference is always to hamadryas, which look different from other baboons, more canine, whereas the others appear more monkey-like. Hamadryas baboons are impressive, regal creatures possessing a square, very symmetrical head, often literally a “blockhead.” Males have a flowing leonine mane. They resemble some kind of composite creature: part dog, part lion, part human and part monkey, which must have increased their appeal to the Egyptians. (All types of baboons are identified with witches, however, as are mandrills, once believed to be a baboon sub-species but now shown to be genetically distinct.)
Hamadryas baboons no longer exist in Egypt due to hunting and loss of habitat. It is believed that they were never indigenous to Egypt but were imported from the mysterious land of Punt, now understood to be somewhere in the Horn of Africa. However, the Egyptians must have been aware of hamadryas baboons from an extremely early historical stage, as two of Egypt’s most ancient deities share their shape: Thoth and Babi.
Lord Thoth was understood to be the supreme god Ra’s right-hand man. Ra is the sun; Thoth is affiliated with the moon. Thoth rides through the skies as protective escort for Ra’s solar barq. Baboons share Thoth’s solar and lunar associations. Similar to roosters and crows, baboons greet the sun with noisy chatter.
Living hamadryas baboons were perceived to be either potentially a manifestation of Lord Thoth or a member of his retinue, hence deserving of respect. Many baboons spent their lives housed in temple complexes. Allegedly, Egyptian priests tested male baboons by placing writing implements before them. If the baboon ignored them he was revealed to be nothing more than a baboon; if however he picked one up and began scribbling, perfectly feasible for this highly intelligent, manually dexterous creature, he was then consecrated to Thoth or Ra.
Thoth’s nature is calm, rational, and sharply intellectual. He is what is known as a “cool” deity: he doesn’t anger easily, thinks before reacting, argues rather than attacks, and can be depended upon to defuse volatile situations. For instance, during a mythological episode when Ra’s daughter Sekhmet descended to Earth in an uncontrollable murderous rampage that none of the other gods could stop, it was Thoth who was ultimately successful in disarming her and leading her back home.
Whether Thoth is capable of cooling down his fellow baboon spirit (or perhaps alter ego) Babi is unknown. Babi (a.k.a. Baba) is a similarly primordial god, from whose name the word “baboon” derives. Lord of the Night Sky, Babi is called the Bull of the Baboons, meaning he’s the pre-eminent alpha male. Essentially he is the god of testosterone.
Babi is fierce, aggressive, and belligerent; no peacemaker, he steals offerings from other spirits. He’s blood-thirsty, devouring human entrails as snacks. A terrible, fearsome deity, Babi was also a role model to which one might aspire. He was very specifically a role model for the pharaoh, who prayed to possess Babi’s power, ferocity, instant reactions and, not least, his virility.
Babi controls the darkness. His phallus serves as the bolt on the gates of heaven. The boat that ferries souls to the next life uses Babi’s phallus as its mast. Although Babi was recognized as a destructive force, allied with the equally volatile spirit Seth, his powers were also perceived as potentially beneficial. Various magic spells exist to protect oneself from Babi; others seek his aid. (Babi had no formal cult; his relationships with people derive entirely through magical action, including spells and amulets.) Babi wards off snakes, controls darkness and turbulent waters. An alliance with him offers safety and protection—provided you can stay safe from him.
Different Egyptian deities were affiliated with various parts of the human anatomy for purposes of healing; Babi, no surprise, heals afflictions of the penis. He is also Master of Sex in the after-Life. (Egyptians expected to enjoy all the pleasures of Earth in the next life, too, not least a healthy sex life.) Men were buried with magic spells identifying their sexuality with Babi’s, so that they’d retain their virility after death.
Perceptions change. In medieval Europe, the hamadryas baboon became a symbol of lust as deadly sin. Baboons in general came to represent evil spirits. Perhaps most insulting, baboons, whose form once graced the Lord of Wisdom, became identified with his opposite: today if you’re called a big baboon, it’s an insult, no ambiguity about it.
Associations of baboons with witchcraft are not only ancient or medieval but also current. South Africa has been plagued with witch-burnings in recent years. Various incidents featuring baboons are indicative not only of cruelty but of the negative passions still inspired by witchcraft. As an example, in March 1996 a baboon was spotted in a village in Mpumalanga Province. A woman announced loudly that this baboon was a witch. A crowd then chased the baboon into a tree, from whence a man grabbed it, swinging it around violently until the baboon became dizzy and disoriented. The baboon was flung to the ground and beaten with iron bars. Gasoline was poured over it and a rubber tire was placed around the baboon, which was set aflame. The woman who first identified the baboon as a witch claimed that it was a particularly huge baboon. When the flames burned out, the corpse was discovered to be small; this perceived transformation, combined with the lengthy time the baboon took to die, was recognized by some as sufficient proof of witchcraft.
See also: DIVINE WITCH: Seth; Thoth; HALL OF FAME: Hermes Trismegistus.

Bats
Familiar features of Halloween paraphernalia and old-style horror movies, virtually everywhere that bats are found they are identified with witchcraft, perceived as witches’ familiars, mounts, and alter egos.
Bats are ancient creatures, having inhabited Earth for about 50 million years. There are nearly one thousand kinds of bats, who comprise nearly one quarter of all mammal species. They are unique as they are the only mammal who can truly fly. (Others, like the flying squirrel, merely glide.)
Bats inspired awe because their form was ambiguous: they resemble some kind of cross between an animal and a bird. In ancient Asian belief, bats were understood to be the most perfect bird because they nurse their young.
Most bats are nocturnal; they famously sleep through the day, hanging upside down in huge colonies, emerging at dusk from the caves they inhabit, sometimes in huge swarms. Animals that live in caves, grottoes or underground are metaphysically perceived as being especially close to Earth, and thus privy to her deepest secrets.
Medieval Europeans associated bats with dragons—magical winged creatures that live in caves and grottos. At first glance this may seem very flattering for a little bat, however this association proved unfortunate, as by the Middle Ages, the only role European dragons were left to play was as a target for questing knights. And small bats are much easier to kill than fire-breathing dragons.
Dragons were also associated with Satan; this association rubbed off on bats and they became closely associated with devils, demons and the anti-Christ. Medieval artwork frequently depicts Satan (as well as his demons and devotees) with bat’s wings; angels, on the other hand, were consistently painted with wings of white birds. That bat you see flying around might really be a demon.
Unfortunately for bats and women, in medieval Europe the sight of a flying bat was often interpreted as really being a transformed witch up to no good. Witches were believed to transform into bats, to ride bats like horses, and also to smear their broomsticks with bat’s blood so as to achieve lift-off. In 1322, Lady Jacaume of Bayonne, France was publicly burned at the stake as a witch. The evidence? Swarms of bats had been observed flying about her house and garden.
Today the concept of a person and bat exchanging shapes automatically brings Dracula to mind, and indeed the most common bat in modern Halloween imagery is the vampire. However, the bats that thrilled and chilled medieval Europeans were not vampires but “ordinary” bats; the original major fear regarding bats is that they would become entangled in a woman’s hair, not that they’d suck her blood. (With the exception of a very few blood-consuming species, bats eat either fruit or insects.)
Vampire bats are indigenous only to the Western Hemisphere. (The three surviving blood-consuming bat species range from Argentina to Mexico.) They are not and were never found in Central Europe, where the concept of an undead creature who survives by sapping the vitality of the living has existed since time immemorial. In certain areas of Central Europe and the Balkans, “vampire” and “werewolf” are synonymous; vampire is also used to indicate a “witch,” so vampire bat may also be understood to mean “witch bat.” (See DICTIONARY: Vampire.)
Vampire bats received that name from the mythic vampire, not vice versa. After blood-consuming bats were “discovered” by Europeans, the name was bestowed upon them. Bram Stoker was intrigued by the concept of blood-consuming bats and so incorporated them into his novel Dracula, whose success forever changed perceptions of bats and mythical vampires, who were traditionally not always typecast as blood-suckers; many traditional vampires preferred consuming sexual fluids or more abstract life forces, such as the aura.
The concept of a mythic blood-consuming “vampiric” spirit was, however, well-known in Central and South America prior to European contact. Bats figure prominently in Central American myth. This is the area where blood-consuming bats do exist and so bats also have associations with death and blood sacrifice.
Not all associations with bats are negative, not even vampire bats. The Kogi people of northern Columbia associate the vampire with human fertility. Their euphemistic expression for a girl who begins to menstruate is that she has been “bitten by the bat.” According to the Kogi, the bat was the very first animal to be created, emerging directly from the Creator’s body.
Some tribes in New Guinea also perceive bats as fertility symbols, perhaps because of the prominent penis of some species located there.
In China, bats are regarded as especially auspicious, their very name a pun for luck. Bat images abound in art and ornamentation.
The Chinese five-bat design (Wu Fu) represents the five blessings:

Longevity

Prosperity

Health

Righteousness

A natural death
Bats figure prominently in African folklore. In East Africa, bats are witches’ mounts. In the Ivory Coast, bats represent souls of the departed, while in Madagascar, bats aren’t just any old souls but those of criminals, sorcerers, and the unburied dead.
Bats have powerful associations with death and ghosts. A hoodoo charm to stop ghostly harassment displays African magical roots: Should you feel that ghost’s unwanted presence, toss one single black cat hair, obtained without harming the cat, over your left shoulder saying, “Skit, scat! Become a bat!”
Rather than inspiring avoidance, associations of bats with witches and magic inspired the use of whole bat corpses and various anatomical parts (hearts, wings, blood) to be featured prominently in magic spells.


References to bat’s wings in magic spells may refer to holly leaves, which may always be substituted

Bat nuts (dried ling nuts), which if held from one angle resemble bats, may be substituted for bats in any spell

Similar to bat’s wings as code for holly leaves, “bat’s blood” may have been a euphemism for another magical ingredient, perhaps a resin. At some point, people did use real bat’s blood as ink. However, since the 1920s commercially marketed Bat’s Blood Ink is scented red ink.
Perhaps because bats were understood to be transformed witches they have also been used to protect from malevolent witchcraft. A particularly unpleasant English custom involved nailing a live bat above the doorway to ward off witches, perhaps akin to the American rancher’s practice of posting dead coyotes or wolves to warn others away.
Negative associations have taken a deadly toll: many species of bats are extremely endangered due to loss of their habitat and because people have perceived them as vermin fit for extermination. This terribly upsets the balance of nature: bats are genuine fertility figures, responsible for the pollination of many plant species, particularly in the desert. Without the bat, these botanical species cannot multiply. Bats are also responsible for insect-control: one bat can gobble up as many as 600 mosquitoes in one hour.
Modern witchcraft practices suggest that maintaining a bat house (similar to a bird house) on your property will bring joy and good luck.

Bears
Bears are conspicuous in witchcraft lore by their very absence. They are the creatures so sacred that many fear to mention their name.
This is no exaggeration. Bears are the animals of shamanism par excellence. Throughout Northern lands, whether North America, Europe or Asia, bears are the original sacred animal, sponsors and symbols of shamanic healing societies. They are the teachers and perhaps originators of shamanism. Because bears dig in the Earth, they are also understood as the original root-workers and possess profound connections with healing, herbalism, and root magic. Bears are simultaneously sacred and dangerous creatures, benevolent and frightening, possessing powers too strong for the uninitiated to withstand.
Shamanic religion is often synonymous with bear religion. In traditional shamanic cultures, bears were worshipped and venerated. These bear cultures (some survive; there once were many, ranging across the entire far Northern hemisphere) typically never utter the name “bear”: that would be like taking the Lord’s name in vain or maybe like not calling the devil so that he won’t come. Euphemisms are substituted: “Big Brother,” “Old Honey Thief,” and the like. (In a similar manner, ancient Greeks never mentioned the name of the Lord of the Dead; Hades, which names his realm and Pluto, meaning “The Rich One,” are both euphemisms.)
Bear religion is among Earth’s original religions. Fairly soon after people began worshipping mothers, they began worshipping bears, too. Sometimes both were worshipped simultaneously. Paleolithic goddess statuettes depict huge mother bears nursing petite human infants.
Bears possess a great resemblance to humans. They stand upright and eat a similar diet. In a Native American story, a boy abandoned in the woods far from other people discovers that out of all the forest animals, the only animal that he as a human can live with comfortably is the bear.
Ursus spelaeus, the cave bear, appeared on Earth approximately 300,000 years ago and was physically very similar to the modern brown (grizzly) bear. Other than slight anatomical differences, the major distinction was size: cave bears were huge, weighing up to one ton. They were perhaps 30 percent taller than brown bears.
Cave bears hibernated, unsurprisingly, in caves, where they also gave birth and frequently died, leaving their skeletons behind. Remains have been found throughout the European mountain chains (Alps, Ardennes, Carpathians and Urals). The bones of at least 30,000 cave bears formed a deep layer of bone in the Dragon Cave near Mixnitz, Austria.
Not all bones were left as they fell. Among the very first indications of human spiritual traditions are ancient cave bear shrines. In Alpine grottoes dating to c.100,000 BCE, cave bear skulls are marked with red ochre and then carefully arranged alongside ritual hearths. Bear skulls were also arranged on stone slabs and placed in wall niches. The caves contain altars, flagstone flooring, benches, and tables. This is literally Neanderthal religion; Neanderthal people built these shrines.
Bear religion didn’t end with the Neanderthals; similar traditions still exist amongst some tribal peoples. Nor were these caves restricted to the Alps. In one bear cave discovered in south-western France, one crawls on hands and knees through a long, dark, narrow passage leading to a cul-de-sac where a bear’s skeleton awaits.
Vestiges of the sacred nature of bears survive in place names, like Berne, Switzerland, city of the bears. Europe is now largely devoid of bears. They have lost virtually all of their former territory in North America as well. There is a mistaken belief that no bears ever existed in Africa. This is true south of the Sahara, however Atlas bears once ranged from Morocco to Libya; the last Atlas bear is believed to have been shot in 1840 in the Tetuan Mountains. Bears of one type or another are indigenous to all continents except Australia and Antarctica. (Koala bears are not true bears.) A healthy adult bear has no enemies other than people. Wherever bears survive, they are endangered because of loss of habitat and because they have been exterminated as a competitive species and for sport and museum collections. Because various parts of bears’ bodies are valued in East Asian medicine, poachers place a high price on bears even though this hunting is largely illegal.
The ancient Norse associated bears with the shaman god Odin. Warriors who fought under his protection were known as “berserkers” (berserk means bear shirt). They fought naked but for bear skins, ritually channeling bear power—temporarily incorporating the bear’s spirit—in order to become fierce, formidable, and virtually unbeatable, striking terror into their opponents as they went berserk. (In a sense, they become temporary were-bears; their comrades, also under Odin’s protection, were wolf warriors.)
Bear-centered spirituality survives wherever traditional Northern shamanism survives, particularly among Native Americans. Native American bear doctors and bear societies still exist. Among the few explicit linkages of bears to witchcraft occurs in the Ojibwa tradition of bear-walking, a form of shape-shifting sorcery.
Bears were sacred in warmer climates, too. The Greek goddess Artemis’s name may derive from her affiliation with bears, which were among her most sacred animals and sometime her alter-ego. Her young temple priestesses were known as “bears.”
The few references to bears in European fairy tales usually tell of men doomed to wear the bear’s form because of unhappy encounters with witches, as in Snow White and Rose Red and some versions of East of the Sun, West of the Moon. These stories read negatively if one assumes that transformation into a bear’s shape is negative; reading between the lines, if one understands wearing the bear’s skin as a secret reference to shamanism, different conclusions can be drawn.
See DIVINE WITCH: Artemis; Odin.

Caprimulgids: Nightjars, Nighthawks, and Frogmouths
The nocturnal birds known as nighthawks are neither hawks nor owls; instead they are caprimulgids or “goatsuckers.” The Caprimulgiformes are an avian order numbering 91 species including nightjars, nighthawks, frogmouths, goatsuckers, and whippoorwills. They live in Africa, Australia, the Americas, Europe, and Asia. Alongside the better-known owls and corvids, these are the birds most intensely identified with witchcraft.
Owls are their nearest relatives and it’s believed that owls and nightjars, the lay term most frequently used to encompass this avian family, share descent from a common ancestor, perhaps not more than 100 million years ago.
Long-winged, long-tailed birds with relatively big eyes, they are characterized by some unique features:


They possess enormous mouths fringed with bristles that prevent the escape of insects, their main food.

They have proportionately short legs and weak feet, unsuitable for walking, unlike corvids which spend a lot of time hopping on the ground. Nightjars are adapted for a life spent mainly in the air.

They have loud, distinctive voices.
Nightjars roost motionless in trees or on the ground during day. As their plumage is dull brown or gray, they are easily camouflaged; thus their loud cry can come as a sudden surprise. They are rarely observed during the day but are more readily seen at twilight or night. Shadowy and mysterious, they have long been associated with witchcraft and magic. Nightjar blood is an ingredient in ancient Egyptian magic spells. Nightjars and their relatives are also associated with prophecy, death, and the devil.
Their gaping fringed mouths are unique for birds and lead to comparisons with the female genitalia, sometimes even with the dread vagina dentata. Whether these associations are perceived as affirmations of fertility power or as diabolical embarrassments depend upon the eye of the beholder.
Nightjar is an English word; in German they’re known as hexe (witch). Considering that caprimulgids are harmless, insect-eating birds, they possess a fearsome reputation as vampires and are the subject of various superstitions. This vampiric reputation dates back at least to Aristotle. Nightjars are believed to suck blood or milk from animals—hence their family name, “goatsuckers.” (They don’t.) One theory suggests that because they forage for insects, nightjars often linger around livestock, especially goats. If for any reason an animal was bleeding, or a nanny goat’s milk was dripping and a largemouthed, eerie-voiced nightjar was discovered nearby, conclusions might be drawn and the nightjar blamed.
During the witch-hunt era, goats were identified as emblems of Satan who allegedly gave witches imps that they suckled on their own milk. With a name like “goatsucker,” the inference is clear; how could these birds not be associated with witchcraft and the devil? As example of their reputation, a species of nightjar from Sulawesi is actually named the diabolical nightjar (Eurostopodus diabolicus).
Yoruba witches fly around at night in the form of nightjars, sucking victims’ blood, while the Tukana Indians of South America believe that dead souls transform into nightjars and suck blood and vitality vampirically from the living.

Cats
Traditional depictions of the Roman goddess of Liberty show her holding a cup in one hand, a broken scepter in the other and with a cat lying at her feet. The cat, that animal which famously does not come when called, has long been an emblem of independence—and of free, independent, autonomous women.
Historically, attitudes toward cats parallel those toward women: when women have been respected and honored, their psychic gifts cherished, cats are beloved, sometimes deified; when women are perceived as dangerous and perverse, cats have been degraded and demonized. When women’s knowledge is particularly respected, cats are venerated; when women’s knowledge is particularly feared, cats are tortured and killed.
As we begin the twenty-first century, no other animal in the Western world is as identified with witchcraft as the domestic cat, particularly black cats. Black cats are sometimes used as short-hand to represent witches: a common Halloween image depicts a black kitten emerging from a cauldron or peaked hat. It’s not even necessary to see the witch; the kitty’s presence is sufficient for witchcraft to be evoked.
Cats are beautiful, intelligent creatures that cannot be ruled. It is not that they are intentionally disobedient (well, not usually; although as most cat owners will acknowledge, there is the occasional knowing spiteful act), but that the entire concept of obedience is foreign to their nature. Cats perform various services for humans, not least gracing us with their beauty, but only on their own terms; they can only be enticed, not commanded.
Cats epitomize the pleasure principle: sensuous creatures, they crave warmth, fine foods, soft fabrics, the choice seat in the house. Nocturnal, independent and mysterious, cats come and go as they please. Don’t be fooled: although domestic creatures, cats are never entirely tame.
They have profound associations with sex. It’s no coincidence that “pussy,” the common nickname for cats, is also a common nickname for the female genitalia. (The word “puss” may actually originally derive from “lepus” or rabbit, another animal profoundly associated with sex and witchcraft.)
Both male and female cats have reputations as lusty, prodigiously sexual creatures. Female cats will take one lover after another, as will the males. (To accuse a man of “tom-catting around” suggests he may not be a prime candidate for “til death do us part.”)
Since at least the time of Aristotle, cats have been used to symbolize lasciviousness and sexual insatiability, in folklore as well as an artistic device. Cats are affiliated with sexually autonomous female deities like Bastet, Diana, Freya, Hathor, Hecate, Kybele, and Lilith.
During the Witchcraze, women were accused of being sexually insatiable. Because mortal men lacked the capacity to satisfy them, these women craved Satan’s charms, taking demonic lovers who often manifested in the form of black tom cats—or at least that’s the witch-hunter’s version. By the eighteenth century, “cat” had become slang for a prostitute, hence the “cat house.”
Cats’ associations with sex have deeper implications: cats possess lush fertility. Felis, the scientific name for cats, derives its origin from the Latin root fe, “to bear young.” Other words deriving from this source are feline, fecund and fetus. Cats, like frogs, are often considered weather harbingers, announcing the start of the fertilizing rain. Jewelry in the form of images of a mother cat surrounded by a large litter of kittens was a popular fertility charm in ancient Egypt.
The earliest indication of intimate relations between people and cats derives from a recently discovered (2004) burial in Cyprus, dating back approximately 9500 years ago. A carefully buried cat was discovered inches from a human burial, which also contained jewelry, polished stones, shells, and tools. The cat’s bones were arranged to parallel that of the human and displayed no signs of butchering. It appears to have been a beloved companion animal. Cats are not native to Cyprus and so it is believed to have been imported (although cats are notorious stowaways on ships).
General wisdom suggests that cats were first domesticated in Egypt (although Libya or Nubia are alternative suggestions), where domestic cats were bred at least four thousand years ago. (However, because of that recently discovered burial, dates are being retabulated backwards.) Ancient Egypt certainly provides the first written records of cats, the clearest evidence of domestic cats and the closest identification with deification of cats.
As Egyptian culture became increasingly agrarian, stored grain attracted mice and other vermin, who, in their turn, attracted cats, who very quickly demonstrated their usefulness to people. Cats became sacred guardians of the grain. (See ERGOT.)
The most famous sacred Egyptian cat is Bastet, whose titles included Mistress of the Oracle and Great Conjuress of the Casket. She is depicted as a cat, often bejeweled, or as a woman with a cat’s head, sometimes surrounded by kittens. Bastet has dominion over sex, fertility, marriage, magic, music, childbirth, prosperity, joy, dance, and healing—in short the pleasures of life. She provides humans with a range of protections: against infertility, the dangers of childbirth, evil spirits, illness and bodily injuries, especially those caused by venomous creatures. A tomb inscription says Bastet bestows “life, prosperity and health every day and long life and beautiful old age.”
Bastet offers special protection to women and children and serves as matron of magicians and healers. Her cult originated in the swamps of the Nile Delta. The earliest known portrait of Bastet dates to c. 3000 BCE. She was a pervasive figure in Egypt from about 2000 BCE, and by about 950 BCE, her cult was found throughout Egypt; she was the most popular female deity in the kingdom. Worship of Bastet reached its zenith during the reign of Osorkon II (874–853) when a major temple was erected at her cult city Bubastis. Devotion to Bastet officially survived until 30 BCE and the Roman conquest.
Bastet’s annual festival in Bubastis was Egypt’s most popular festival. An ancestor of today’s Mardi Gras, the festival was renowned for its parties, revelry, and drunkenness. Herodotus, the Greek traveler and historian writing in the fifth century BCE, claimed that more wine was consumed in Egypt during this festival than during the entire remainder of the year. Although many details have been lost, Bastet’s festival celebrated female sexuality and generative power. Boats sailed up the Nile headed for Bubastis. As a barge approached towns and settlements on its way to the festival, it would halt and the mainly female celebrants on board would loudly hail the local women congregating on the riverbanks. They would shout sexual obscenities to each other, dance wildly, and perform ana-suromai, the ritual act of lifting up the skirts to expose the vulva, associated with laughter, healing, and defiance of grief.
Bastet, daughter of the sun, is a solar spirit, associated with the life-giving warmth of the sun. (Her sister Sekhmet, a lioness, represents the sun’s scorching, destructive potential.) Bastet possesses lunar associations as well. She is the mother of the moon. Her son Khonsu was reputedly able to impregnate women with his moonbeams. (That belief survives in the superstition against single women sleeping exposed to moonlight.)
The Greek biographer Plutarch, writing in the first century CE, suggested that one of the reasons Egyptians worshipped cats is that cats’ nocturnal habits reveal powerful lunar affiliations. Cats’ eyes also appear to grow in size and luminosity in harmony with the moon’s waxing. The ancient Egyptian cat was not exclusively a sacred temple animal but was also a family pet or domestic animal, a bit of holiness in one’s own home. Although Egypt had many sacred animals, no others lived so intimately with so many people. (Compare and contrast other sacred creatures, like baboons or crocodiles, which by necessity were kept at a distance.) Familiarity didn’t breed contempt, however: even a house cat maintained its mysterious, sacred nature. Herodotus reports that anyone convicted of intentionally killing a sacred animal was sentenced to death, and to varying extents all cats were sacred. Four hundred years later, the Sicilian historian Diodorus Siculus (born c. 100 BCE) witnessed an incident where a Roman official accidentally killed a cat and was promptly lynched by a mob. Although the fact that he was a Roman official suggests that the cat may have been the last straw in a deadly dynamic, Diodorus suggests that the situation wasn’t uncommon and that most such deaths occurred as spontaneous lynchings by enraged mobs before the person could be legally tried and judged. When a pet cat died, it was customary for the human family with whom it lived to shave their eyebrows as a sign of mourning and respect.
Wide distribution of the domestic cat occurred only after the Egyptian kingdom lost its independence to Rome. Even then, for centuries, domestic cats remained rare throughout Europe. (Ferrets were used to eliminate vermin prior to introduction of cats.) Not until the fourth century of the Common Era were domestic cats widely distributed in Italy. As domestic cats gradually dispersed, their identification with the mysteries of ancient Egypt traveled with them, leading to associations with magic, witchcraft, and women’s sexual, lunar and reproductive secrets.
Although domestic cats were rare in Europe, uncommon in the British Isles, for instance, even into the tenth century, wild forest cats were common. Although wild cats can cross-breed with domestic cats, they are larger and typically possess different natures: fierce, wary, and solitary rather than sweet and cuddly. Vestiges of wild, fierce Celtic cat goddesses may survive in the witch-hags who frequently transform into cats, as for instance, Black Annis.
Cats have potent associations with yet another powerful female deity—Freya—Norse Lady of love, romance, sex, fertility, childbirth, shamanism, enchantments, witchcraft, and death. An oracular, sexually autonomous spirit, Freya typically manifests as a breath-takingly beautiful, golden woman: her chariot is drawn by her familiars, two huge gray cats named Bee Gold (honey) and Tree Gold (amber), who embody Freya’s twin qualities of ferociousness and fecundity. Cats are Freya’s sacred animals; a traditional method of petitioning or pleasing the goddess was to offer pans of milk to cats, an old Norse country custom that survived. To be kind to a cat is to entreat Freya’s blessings and to remain in her good graces.
Eventually cats would be tortured and killed specifically because of their associations with Freya. After the introduction of Christianity, Freya’s devotees did not abandon her easily or willingly, and she became among the most demonized of spirits, coming to embody the stereotype of the seductive witch. Cats shared Freya’s demonization. (See DIVINE WITCH: Freya.)
By the Middle Ages, cats had become so identified with witchcraft that in 1484, Pope Innocent VIII issued a decree, understood by many scholars as the official start of the Witchcraze, denouncing cats and their owners. Any cat in the company of a woman could be assumed to be a familiar. If one can assume the cat is a familiar, what might one assume about the woman?
Pope Innocent commanded that when a witch was burned, her cats were to be burned with her. He decreed that all European cat-worshippers be burned as witches. (This was in response to a strong revival of devotion to Freya in fifteenth-century Germany.) He authorized the killing of cats even without an accompanying witch. A vicious cycle emerged: the destruction of European cats is believed to have encouraged the proliferation of rodents, which in turn encouraged the spread of deadly disease, blamed on witchcraft and heresy, which in turn led to fear, panic, and more killing of cats.
Folklorist Jacob Grimm, of the Brothers Grimm, suggests in his book Teutonic Mythology that the sinister aspect of the cat derives from Freya’s dual role, not only as a spirit of love and fertility but also as a death-spirit. As leader of the Valkyries, female warrior spirits who helped select the dead, Freya had dibs on half the fallen on a battlefield, the other half belonging to Odin.
The degradation and destruction of cats parallels that of women and their increasing loss of autonomy. Women, however, might engage in subterfuge or adjust their personalities and lifestyles in attempts to be beyond suspicion; the inherent nature and habits of cats betrayed them. Their nocturnal lives, their desire to prowl free at night, “singing” at the moon, their passionate sexuality, all now doomed them to associations with the devil and/or witchcraft. Instead of worship and respect, cats were feared and avoided at best.
According to the witch-hunter’s perceptions of witchcraft, cats played various roles:


Cats were believed to be common familiars. Should a woman display a close relationship with a cat, this was considered a telltale sign of witchcraft and perhaps sufficient evidence to warrant death for woman and cat.

Cats provided witches with a mode of magical transportation. Reminiscent of Freya’s air-borne cat-drawn chariot, witches rode to sabbats on cats’ backs or traveled about in feline form. Shape-shifting witches were believed able to assume the form of cats.

Sometimes the cats are the witches. Does the woman transform into a cat or vice versa? Cats are traditionally Hungarian witches’ alter egos, their doubles. Is the witch a cat or is the cat a witch? In this hall of mirrors, who can tell? In one Hungarian witch-trial transcript, the prosecution’s witness recounts how upon encountering two cats at night, whom he perceived as nocturnal apparitions, he began to talk with them, informing them that he wasn’t afraid of them because “Lord Jesus Christ is with us.” The cats, he claimed, responded with peals of human laughter.
In Slavic areas, cats may be vampires; hence the still-existing superstition that cats will suck a sleeping baby’s life out. In North African communities, cats may be djinn in disguise and so one is cautioned against ever harming a cat for fear of spiritual retribution.
Witch-hunter Jean Bodin insisted that all cats are witches in disguise. Nicholas Remy, another famed witch-hunter, argued that they were demons instead. Hungarian witch-lore suggests that cats do indeed become witches, but only between the ages of 7 and 12, and even this may be prevented. The Hungarians, a grain-producing people, who perhaps didn’t relish leaving their barns without feline protection, determined that shaving a cross into the cat’s fur was sufficient to rescue it from this fate. According to Somerset folklore, cats born in May were especially inclined to be witches in disguise and hence were frequently killed.
Stories of women transforming into cats are common witchcraft tales. A husband from Scotland’s Isle of Skye claimed to be perplexed by his wife’s secretive nightly excursions. One night he followed her and witnessed her transformation into a black cat. The wife invoked Satan’s name and sailed out to sea in a sieve with seven other cats. The husband invoked the Trinity and the sieve promptly overturned, drowning all the witches—or at least so said the husband, the only witness to his wife’s disappearance. One wonders how many other women’s disappearances were accounted for by those who swore that when last seen the women had transformed into cats or bats.
In a French variation on this theme, a woman was cooking an omelet when a black cat sauntered into her home and settled itself by her hearth. Apparently unfazed by her visitor, the woman did nothing but continue to cook. The cat stared at her for a few minutes then announced, “It’s done. Flip it over.”
In a traditional fairy tale, when a talking animal tells you something, it’s worth paying attention. However, in this story, the woman, seemingly unsurprised, only claimed to be outraged at being bossed around by a cat. She flung the hot pan at the cat, hitting it. The cat fled. The next morning, a malicious, “catty” neighbor was observed with a great red burn on her cheek.
There are millions of these stories, which are not limited to European origin. In Japanese folklore, cats transform into women who are frequently identified as witches. (Japan has a witchtradition but no history of European-style witch-hunts.) Sometimes these cats are saintly, if sexual. In the famous legend of Okesa the dancer, a devoted cat saves a human family from poverty by transforming into a prostitute and earning enough to support them.
Not all these legends are stories, at least not in the fictional sense; few of the documented tales have happy endings.


In 1586, Anna Winkelz Ipfel was burned as a witch in Bergtheim, Germany for allegedly disguising herself as a black cat.

In 1607, Bartie Paterson was hanged as a witch in England. According to witnesses, Bartie transformed into a cat and, together with other witches disguised as cats, “sang” in the backyard of one of the witnesses.

In March 1607, Isobel Grierson was brought to court in Scotland, charged with witchcraft. She allegedly invaded the Clarke household in the middle of the night in the form of a cat, accompanied by other cats, who together raised “a great and fearful noise.” The sleeping Mr and Mrs Adam Clarke were woken by this racket, as was their servant woman who had been lying in another bed near theirs. Apparently the cats were only the welcoming crew; shortly after this feline invasion, the devil himself also allegedly arrived, in the form of a black man. Isobel was burned to death for this, as well as for various murders by magic. (See Transformation.)
Cats were also identified with Satan, believed to favor the shape of a cat, inevitably a large black tom. In 1233 Pope Gregory IX declared that heretics worshipped the devil in the form of a black tom cat.
Of course one person’s devil is another person’s guardian spirit. In Slavic areas, especially Russia and Poland, the ovinnik, guardian spirit of the threshing barn takes the form of a huge disheveled black cat with glowing eyes. Offerings of blini or the last sheaves of grain are offered to him in exchanges for protection and divination services. The ovinnik is no cute, cuddly kitty; should he ever be seriously displeased, he’ll burn the barn down (frequently with the owner or his children within).
Elements of degraded, corrupt, perverted sacrifice are apparent in the treatment meted out to European cats, as if rather than venerating and preserving what is powerful and holy, it’s cruelly, wantonly, destroyed instead.
The torture and killing of cats occurred in various contexts: in conjunction with human witch trials, as random acts of violence, but also as organized, documented ritual killings:


In Paris, it was customary to burn a sack or basket filled with cats in the Place de Greve on St John’s Eve, a tradition also popular in other parts of France. (Although Louis XIV abolished the Parisian custom in 1648, it continued in the provinces until at least as late as 1796.)

Various French towns built bonfires to burn masses of cats on the first Sunday in Lent.

Cats were burned in Alsace at Easter.
(See CALENDAR: Midsummer’s; Ostara.)
Although all cats are associated with witchcraft, the black cat is most powerfully identified. Black cats’ special identification with witchcraft is not limited to Western European or post-Christian perspectives. Chinese, Hindu, Japanese, Jewish, North African, and Romany witch-lore make the same connection, although whether it is understood to be a sacred or malevolent connection depends upon cultural and individual perceptions.
People tend to fear or love black cats, frequently revealing their attitudes toward witchcraft. The major superstition regarding black cats is that they bring bad luck should they cross your path and people will cross the street to avoid them. This isn’t so ridiculous if one recalls that black cats were once commonly believed to be witches in disguise, out looking for fun and trouble. In Britain, however, black cats are lucky; white cats are identified with bad luck, as are many white animals, perhaps because of associations with ghosts and death.

Chickens
Because chickens were perceived as being twice born (once when the egg is laid, once when it hatches), they were regarded as sacred. Black is the color of night, fertility, and gestation and so black hens were considered the most sacred of all.
Many magic spells stipulate that feathers or eggs must come from a pure black hen. The very first egg laid by a black hen is considered extremely magically powerful and is coveted for love and fertility spells.
Black hens are identified with and sacred to the supreme witch goddess Hecate (see DIVINE WITCH: Hecate). This spiritual memory survives in the Mother Goose rhyme, “Heckity peckity, my black hen…” In some parts of Britain, witches were allegedly incapable of approaching black chicken feathers, and so on Halloween it was customary to kill a black hen. The hen was cooked but the feathers were artfully arranged: hung onto the door of the house, over the bed or onto children or horses. It sounds suspiciously like a surreptitious method of offering a sacrifice to Hecate.
In African-derived magic, black hen’s feathers are used for magical cleansings. (Cleansing spells remove negative energy, spiritual debris, curses and malevolent spells.) Burn the feathers to a very, very fine ash, and then dust them on the person to be cleansed.
Black hens counter malevolent spells and allegedly remove jinxes. In the United States, frizzly (black and white speckled) hens are the substitute of choice and may even be preferable. Should the feathers be frizzly, it is immaterial whether the bird is a hen or rooster: in the hoodoo and conjure traditions of the Southern United States, frizzly hens or roosters were kept in the yard to scratch up any “tricks” (malevolent spells left on the property to fester and cause harm). Frizzled poultry was a valuable commodity: the bird might also be loaned or rented out to others in need. A renowned New Orleans root doctor went by the name of The Frizzly Rooster, his specialty lifting jinxes, hexes, and tricks. (See BOTANICALS: Roots; DICTIONARY: Root-worker.)
Chickens have served as oracles since ancient days. Various methods exist, however alectromancy is the standard method of divination by poultry. Individual letters of the alphabet are used to form a circle. An equal quantity of wheat is placed on each letter; the bird is placed in the center of the circle and carefully observed as it eats the grain. The corresponding letters should spell out a prophecy, which may then be interpreted. It is a primitive ancestor of the modern ouija board.
Ancient armies typically traveled with flocks of poultry, to lay eggs but also to perform grain divination. (In theory the greater the number of chickens and circles, the greater the possible complexity of the message.) A famous story describes a Roman general whose fleet was about to attack Carthage during the first Punic War. Before the attack was mounted, chickens were brought on deck and grain scattered for them. The seasick birds refused to eat. Rather than paying attention to the oracle, which clearly advised hesitation, the enraged, impatient (and perhaps queasy) general announced, “If they won’t eat, let them drink!” and ordered the poultry thrown overboard. Needless to say, the Romans suffered a crushing defeat.

Corvids: Crows, Ravens, and Jackdaws
The corvids are a large, widely distributed family of birds including crows, ravens, and jackdaws, powerfully associated with witchcraft and magic. (Other members of the family include rooks and jays.)
Scientific knowledge and genetic research has altered the way humans classify living beings. Once upon a time, classification was based purely on powers of observation. Because crows, ravens, and jackdaws bear an obvious family resemblance, both physically and personalitywise, they have always been understood as related. Magpies, which have profound but different associations with witchcraft, are also corvids, but because they were understood to be a distinct, if similar, species, they have their own encyclopedia entry. See Magpies.
Crows and ravens are big, loud, noisy, black birds. Crows and ravens are often referred to interchangeably. Technically ravens may be slightly larger, with shaggy, disheveled-looking feathers, unlike shiny, sleek black crows. They also possess slightly different habits, being somewhat more solitary than crows, which may roost together in communities numbering hundreds. Ravens will also hunt more than crows, which are mainly scavengers.
When mythology distinguishes between the two, ravens are usually associated with transformative magic while crows are identified with healing. Both are teachers and sponsors of magic and shamanism.
Crows and ravens are characterized by their shiny black color and by their raucous, loud voices. Diurnal birds, like roosters, they noisily greet the sun. If you live in an area with many crows, they will be your daily alarm clock. Crows, like baboons and roosters, are strongly identified with solar power and may be understood to venerate or worship the sun themselves. In a Pacific Northwest myth, Earth is enshrouded in darkness; Crow is literally the one who hangs the sun in the sky.
Crows and ravens, like bears and humans, are omnivores; crows do not like to hunt, however, but prefer to scavenge and not only on road-kill. Historically corvids hover over battlefields waiting for an opportunity to feast on the dead. Crows thus have profound associations with spirits presiding over death, war, and disaster. In Irish Gaelic, badbh meaning “crow” is a synonym for “witch.” It is also the name of a Celtic battle goddess, who may manifest in the shape of her namesake bird.
Crows are oracular birds; they evoke the spirit of prophecy and are also affiliated with oracular spirits. Among the deities with whom crows/ravens are associated are:


Amaterasu (Japanese)

Apollo (Greek)

Badbh (Irish)

Cathubodua (Romano-Celtic Gaul, now France)

Epona (Celtic)

Kali (Indian)

Macha (Irish)

The Morrigan (Irish; known as the “battle raven” or “battle crow”)

Nantosuelta (Gaulish, now Germany)

Nephthys (Egyptian)

Odin (Norse, Aesir; “God of the Ravens”)

Tlazolteotl (Aztec)
Trickster heroes, Crow and Raven play an enormous role in world mythology, including Celtic, Greek, Hungarian, Japanese, Jewish, Native American, Scandinavian, and Vietnamese traditions, but most especially in the indigenous traditions of Siberia and North America’s Pacific Northwest.
Crows truly are tricksters and clowns; it isn’t just mythological affectation. If you spend time with them, you will observe their games and tricks. They are assertive, unafraid of people and as willing to play a joke on a person as they are on a dog, cat or on each other. Shiny things appeal to them and they’ve been known to steal them. Crows coexist well with people and occasionally become companion animals. Crows will, on occasion, mimic human language or the sounds of other animals.
The associations of crow/raven with witchcraft, magic, and shamanism pre-date Christianity. What changes post-Christianity is the perception of those associations. Rather than positive associations with wise-women, shaman, and seers, crows were now associated with diabolism and sin. In the eyes of Christian Europe, crows and ravens were linked with witchcraft because of their color, their raucousness, harsh voices, sharp intelligence, and assertive nature. Legends emerged explaining why crows were black—typically involving punishment for some kind of sin. According to the standard story, once upon a time, crows were pure white but they did something very bad and so were punished by being painted permanently black. Because crows are black birds that daily herald the light, the Church identified them with Satan in his guise as Lucifer, the fallen angel and light bringer.
Jackdaws, which are quite similar to crows and ravens, are restricted to the Eastern Hemisphere, ranging from Eurasia to northwestern Africa. It derives its name from its call: “jack!” It resembles a smallish, grayish-black crow, but is as noisy, raucous and sociable as its larger relations. It eats insects, worms, fruits, and carrion. The world’s most famous jackdaw may be Sybil Leek’s late companion, Hotfoot Jackson (see HALL OF FAME: Sybil Leek).

Coyotes
Coyotes exemplify “threshold animals”: wild animals that exist, thrive, and stay wild amidst human society, even flourishing among us.
Coyotes are medium-sized North American canines, midway between wolves and dogs. Once upon a time, coyotes were restricted to a reasonably limited section of North America; however as other predators (wolves and cougars especially) have been exterminated, coyotes have filled the void. Unlike most other creatures, coyotes have a far wider range today than ever before, although this is against all odds—attempts have been made to exterminate coyotes, too. They have been poisoned, shot, and trapped; in many areas bounties still remain on their hides.
Coyotes are the trickster supreme, akin to crows and rabbits but more so. They are clever, wary, and adaptable, epitomizing humor, curiosity, and intelligence. Coyotes in my own Los Angeles hill neighborhood were observed looking both ways before they crossed the street, something my golden retriever could never learn.
Coyote is a central figure in Native North American mythology, playing a broad range of roles. Coyote alternately creates the universe (because he’s lonely or curious or bored) creates people, creates death, darkness, and disaster and/or serves as human beings’ primary teacher. Coyote introduces people to sex, magic, and witchcraft, in both the positive and negative sense of that word. He is the spirit of eternity, regeneration, endurance, and persistence. He gets people into lots of trouble but is frequently also the only one capable of getting them out of it. Coyote teaches sacred rituals, secret knowledge, and malevolent witchcraft.
North America is a vast continent and tremendous variety exists among Native American cultures, truly a veritable “500 nations” possessing varied philosophies, cosmologies, and perspectives. Coyote is sacred to many; malevolent to a few. Coyote is particularly prominent among tribes in California: for the Miwok, Coyote is creator and supreme divinity, but for the Maidu, Coyote is a divine antagonist.
Navajo tradition understands Coyote as a malicious trickster responsible for the introduction of harmful magical practices. Coyote’s name may be synonymous with malevolent witchcraft, making it an insult to be called a coyote—the equivalent of the pejorative use of the word “witch” although traditional Navajo belief understands men to be as likely to be witches as women.
Jackals (which bear a physical resemblance to coyotes but are smaller) play a similar, if more shadowy, role in Africa, Western Asia and India. Jackals are tricksters possessing strong associations with sex and death and are often funerary deities, the most prominent being Egypt’s Anubis, credited with inventing the mummification process. Anubis manifests as either a full-fledged jackal or as a man with a jackal’s head. He may have been Lord of the Dead prior to Osiris’ rise to prominence. Funerary priests wore jackal masks, perhaps channeling the spirit of Anubis. Jackals are also powerfully affiliated with deities Kali and Lilith.
In a Tewa legend, Coyote marries Yellow Corn Girl and teaches her to transform into animal shape by jumping through hoops. He then teaches her methods of killing by witchcraft. She thus becomes the first witch, at least in the malevolent sense. Coyote is the source of witchcraft similar to the biblical angels who entangled themselves with the Daughters of Man, as recounted in Genesis 6:2-4.
Shape-shifters, skin-walkers and nahuals frequently take the form of coyotes—whether this is understood positively or negatively depends upon perceptions of the practice.

Dogs
The history of dogs’ ancient alliance with humans is shrouded in the mysteries of time. They have been our steadfast companions and guardians since that proverbial time immemorial. Even cultures that historically do not domesticate animals, such as many of the indigenous cultures of North America, have maintained dogs as companion animals.
Because of this long alliance, it should come as no surprise that dogs have intense spiritual associations with protection and with healing and death, two sides of the same coin. In every one of these aspects dogs are understood to be guardian spirits:


Dogs protect people from spiritual and physical dangers in life.

Ancient people perceived illness as both physical ailment and spiritual crisis: dogs battle on behalf of their human allies.

Dogs protect dead human souls and accompany, guide, and assist them in their journey to the next realm.
Perhaps because feral dogs were observed lurking in ancient cemeteries ready to devour offerings and dig up bodies, dogs achieved early identification with death and funerary rites. Dogs also lingered on battlefields where they competed with crows for their share of the dead.
Although everyone dies alone, it was once commonly believed that without a dog’s assistance one would never be able to locate the realm of the dead. This was a widespread concept although how it was interpreted and acted upon varied. In some Central American beliefs, there’s no need to do anything: when one’s soul begins that journey, a dog will be found waiting by a riverbank ready to serve as your guide. Of course, should that spirit-dog not show up for any reason, your soul would wander for ever, never achieving peace. Some cultures refused to take chances: dogs were sacrificed and buried together with a person (or placed on the pyre) so that they might start the journey together. The Aztecs evolved a happier solution: they buried their dead with terracotta dogs who, through ritual and spell-casting, were able to perform this function just as well as flesh and blood dogs.
The ancient Egyptians may not have rigidly distinguished between jackals and dogs: Anubis, Lord of Embalming, Guide to the After-Life, may be understood as either species or both. His color is black, not because it is the color of death but because for the Egyptians it represented regeneration and rebirth. Anubis rules the Dog Star in conjunction with his adopted mother Isis, the first syllable of whose Egyptian name Au Set resembles a dog’s bark: ow, ow, ow!
The Norse Queen of the After-Life, Hel (Christianity borrowed her name for the eternal realm of post-life punishment) has her own companion pack of wolves and dogs that nibble arriving corpses. (Vestiges of the ancient Indo-European custom of offering dogs a bite of the corpse may survive in this legend.) These may be the original hell-hounds who will survive to ride with the Wild Hunt.
Dogs are most profoundly identified with the Eurasian witch goddess Hecate, Queen of the Night, spirit of birth, death, magic, healing, witchcraft, travel, and victory. Hecate guards the threshold between life and death, serving as a psychopomp (one who guides the dead). Hecate also serves as the personal handmaiden of Persephone, Queen of Hades.
Hades is famously guarded by Cerberus, the monstrous three-headed hound of hell. Hecate’s sacred number is three; she is typically depicted with three heads and very frequently assumes the guise of a dog. Cerberus may be Hecate’s pet dog or he may even be Hecate in disguise. Whether Hecate transforms into a dog or is in fact a dog spirit who transforms into other shapes (old crone, seductive beauty, occasionally even a black cat!) is a little like asking which came first, the chicken or the egg. See DIVINE WITCH: Hecate.
Dogs serve as sacred companion animals to many spirits, most having to do with healing, death, war, and protection:

Artemis (Greek)

Asklepios (Greek)

Babalu-Aye (West African)

Epona (Celtic/Roman)

Erinyes (Greek justice spirits who chase sinners like blood-hounds in pursuit)

Hecate (Eurasian)

Hel (Norse)

Hermes (Greek)

Nehalennia (Dutch/Germanic)

Ogun (γoruba)

Sirona (Celtic)
Hecate originated in what is now Turkey. In Sumer, another goddess was intensely linked to dogs: Bau, the daughter of Sirius the Dog Star. Sometimes depicted as dog-headed, it’s tempting to associate her name with “bow-wow.” In her later Babylonian incarnation, Gula Bau, spirit of healing, walks Earth accompanied by her pack of hounds.
Hecate is not the only deity to transform into canine form. The Middle Eastern and North African spirits known as djinn have been known to lurk in the form of dogs, usually loitering in the marketplace just before dawn. In Jewish mystical folklore, Lilith and Asmodeus, respectively Queen and King of Demons, travel incognito disguised as large black hounds.
Black hound is the key: although to some extent all dogs have associations with funeral rites, magical healing, and protection, the dog most powerfully identified with magic, witches, and witchcraft is the black dog, the bigger and blacker the better. (Large black poodles have particularly strong associations, perhaps in honor of magician Cornelius Agrippa’s beloved pet, Monsieur.)
In addition to serving as witches’ familiars, black dogs may be transformed witches or witch goddesses. Nicholas Remy, the merciless witch-trial judge from Lorraine, alleged that women transformed into rabid dogs and wolves.
In witch-crazed Europe, dogs were understood as the devil’s favored companion or maybe even his favorite disguise. According to witch-trial transcripts, Satan routinely appeared at the sabbats he hosted in the shape of a massive black dog.
Dogs are believed to venture out at night to do battle with evil spirits. This is not an untypical international belief: lone dogs at night, particularly large black ones, are understood to either be evil spirits or out battling evil spirits. British folklore is full of stories of spectral black hounds mysteriously appearing to guard, guide, and accompany lone travelers, particularly when venturing through forests. Once the journey is over or safety is reached, the dog vanishes as mysteriously as it arrived.

Donkeys
Once upon a time, as with so many witchcraft animals, the humble donkey was venerated and held sacred. It was no coincidence that Christ chose to ride a donkey on his fateful entry into Jerusalem but fulfillment of prophecy. Dionysus rode a donkey, too. The Greek goddess Hestia has a donkey for a companion (or her consort). The most famous donkey in the Old Testament belonged to the sorcerer-shaman Balaam; it spoke, protested when beaten and was able to see an angel when its master could not.
Donkeys were first domesticated in the Nile Valley in pre-dynastic Egypt. Among their early tasks was helping thresh grain, leading to their close identification with the Corn Mother. This practice would degenerate into base cruelty: donkeys were blindfolded or even blinded so they’d walk in endless circles, turning the mill wheel.
Donkeys were once synonymous with phallic energy and the phallic organ itself, particularly in ancient Egypt, where the phonetic elements for their word for donkey (“a-a”; “hee-haw”?) were represented by the ideogram for donkey and a phallus. The veneration today reserved for the stallion was once given to the donkey. Roman couples carved donkey heads on their beds in hopes of enhancing fertility. Donkeys had close associations with the summer solstice (Midsummer’s Eve), as they were believed to ritually mate at that time, just like people celebrating that fertility festival. Shakespeare’s audience would have understood the reference to the donkey’s head in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
In medieval Europe, donkeys became identified with rampant, uncontrolled, sinful lust. They were prominently featured in the Feast of Fools; donkeys were understood to be among the devil’s favorite guises.
The popular festival known as The Feast of the Ass was celebrated in Northern France during the Middle Ages. Held annually on January 14th, it allegedly commemorated the flight of the Holy Family into Egypt. A young girl holding a baby was seated astride a donkey and lead through the streets and into the church. It was a raucous, somewhat sacrilegious festival with many elements reminiscent of pagan, fertility, and, specifically, Dionysian rites. The donkey was actually brought into the church where it was given food and drink on a table, similar to a sacrificial offering. The festival concluded with a midnight mass, which the officiating priest ended by braying three times. This feast was suppressed by the Church in the fifteenth century, although it lingered in places for a long time afterwards.
Unlike cats or crows, the donkey’s disreputable and demonic associations pre-date Christianity. Their associations with sex, magic and dangerous, unpredictable deities already lead many to be ambivalent toward them. The donkey was among the Egyptian deity Set’s sacred animals. Despite periods of popularity, Set, Lord of Magic, especially sex magic, was an ambiguous, volatile deity, a disreputable and dangerous god.
The associations between donkeys and Set were strong and images of Set with a donkey’s head were engraved on magical talismanic gems. The Egyptians identified Set as the god of foreigners, most especially their Semitic neighbors. (The invading Hyksos kings, believed to be of Semitic origin, adored Set.) Set was also identified (by the Egyptians) with the god of the Jewish people who even then bore an ancient reputation as powerful magicians. (One of the Jewish god’s names (γah) sounds similar to io, the Coptic word for donkey.)
Dionysus, to whom donkeys are sacred, also became increasingly suspect and disregarded. As the Common Era loomed, there was little room or official sympathy for a wild shamanic god of intoxication, sex, and ecstasy, especially a god who encouraged women to dance wild, free and independent. King Midas was punished with donkey’s ears when he dared to suggest that a satyr was a finer musician than that Hellenic golden boy, Apollo. Satyrs were worshippers of Dionysus and on one level the story may be understood as a rebuke towards Dionysus.
By the dawning of the Common Era, conventional society and religion regarded donkeys poorly. No longer sacred, they were associated with foreigners, practitioners of magic, lechery and uncontrolled sex, and heretical strange religions, symbolic of lust and immorality. To accuse someone of worshipping an ass was considered the ultimate insult. That insult was frequently made:


In Alexandria, Greek propaganda accused Jews of worshipping a donkey’s head.

Throughout their vast empire, Roman propaganda accused Christians of worshipping a donkey’s head.

To suggest someone “worshipped the donkey” was also an allusion to Dionysus and his suppressed Bacchanalia.
Hidden within the intended insults, perhaps what authorities were using the donkey to symbolically express was that these varied spiritual traditions were stubbornly persistent and dangerously defiant.
These familiar accusations survived into the Christian era, although accusers and targets changed. Christians, once accused of worshipping donkeys themselves, now accused the Knights Templar of worshipping a mysterious idol named Baphomet. Among the forms suggested for Baphomet was that of a donkey’s head. Witches were accused of adoring Satan in the form of a donkey with huge, erect phallus while engaged in orgies at bacchanalia-like sabbats.
According to folklore, the donkey is the animal into which victims of witchcraft are most likely to find themselves transformed, the most famous example being Lucius Apuleius who was turned into an ass when he tried to steal a sorceress’ magic in the second-century CE book, The Golden Ass.

Familiars
Familiars are witches’ animal friends, partners, and companions. The term “familiar” implies an actual, specific, living animal—unlike the larger term “ally” which is inclusive of spirit animals. In general, familiars are what their name says: familiar. These are the animal companions people keep as pets within their homes.
Do you have a familiar? If you have had an intense emotional bond with a living creature other than a human, then one might say you have had a familiar, whether you work magic with that animal in any capacity or not. The dog who won’t leave your side, the cat who nightly sleeps on your feet, the bird who begins to sing as soon as it catches sight of you: these are all familiars, or at least potentially so. The dog who guards you with his life is as much a familiar as the cat who assists you in magic ritual. Mutual love, loyalty, and devotion define the relationship between familiars and humans. Whether that relationship is also part of a working magical partnership is up to you.
In terms of witchcraft, the familiar is the witch’s partner, assisting her in various magical working including divination and spell-casting. Although any creature could be a familiar, certain animals are considered most likely to become familiars or to be most suitable or powerful, including cats, dogs, ferrets, crows, hedgehogs, toads, snakes, and other animals found within this section of the Element Encyclopedia of Witchcraft.
A very high percentage of the animal species considered most likely to be familiars have been identified with the moon, lunar deities, and fertility ever since Neolithic times including cats, frogs and toads, snakes, canines, hedgehogs, and birds.
That defines the identity of the familiar and its role in witchcraft as seen by witches, past and present. However, that definition presupposes that intense emotional and psychic bonds between humans and other living beings are possible and are something positive. That’s a fairly modern viewpoint: one way of looking at familiar-keeping witches of the Middle Ages is that they were way ahead of their time, at least in terms of animals.
Today hardly anyone blinks an eye at people who talk of how much they love their cats, dogs, lizards or other pets. The pet industry is a hugely profitable business: people buy special food and toys for their animals. They spend fortunes to heal their ailing animals. Even today, however, many consider this crazy, and they were in the majority not that long ago.
There are still people who adamantly insist that they would never keep an animal in their house. No need to wonder why. Once upon a time, intense affection and familiarity with another species could get you arrested for witchcraft. Humans were not the only ones killed en masse during the Burning Times: most familiars of convicted witches were burned alive too.
During the Witchcraze, the witches’ viewpoint was not the officially accepted definition of “familiar.” According to the inquisitors, familiars weren’t just plain old animals of whom witches were very fond. Familiars were special gifts from Satan given to witches upon their initiation at sabbats to act as messengers and servants. The familiar’s animal or bird form might only be a satanic illusion; the familiar really being an imp or demon in disguise. Some inquisitors perceived that the familiar wasn’t the witch’s servant but her boss. The familiar gave the witch her orders, which she must then obey for fear of the devil. (See below, Imp.)
According to the witch-hunters’ definition, there was no need for a familiar to be visible or physically present to exist: familiar imps and demons could transform into various shapes or make themselves invisible if they desired. This had tremendous implications. Because some witch-hunters decided that, by definition, witches possessed familiars, a demonic familiar, invisible to everyone but the witch (or the witnesses who testified against her) made it possible for someone with no contact with animals to be convicted of having a familiar. The very fact that no one but the witch’s accusers could see the familiar was offered as the very proof of witchcraft. Of course the witch denied having a demon imp, but what would you expect her to say? She’s a witch.
These various conflicting perceptions are best exemplified by the story of Dr William Harvey and the witch, as told in an anonymous seventeenth-century manuscript. Dr Harvey (1578–1657), the discoverer of the circulation of blood, visited Newmarket with his patron King Charles I. Hearing stories about a local witch, Dr Harvey decided to investigate. He paid a call on the anonymous witch at her home at the edge of Newmarket Heath. Her first instincts were to be wary and secretive but Dr Harvey worked to put her at ease. Engaging her in conversation, he managed to pass himself off as a fellow magical practitioner. Enjoying the company, the witch relaxed. When Dr Harvey asked to see her familiar, she obliged. Putting out a saucer of milk, the witch made some toad-like noises and a toad hopped out from under a chest to lap up the milk.
Dr Harvey gave the woman a shilling and sent her out to buy them some ale. In her absence, he caught and dissected her toad. Imagine someone coming into your home and secretly dissecting your pet. Having dissected the creature, Dr Harvey formed the scientific conclusion that the familiar was not an imp or a demon but was, in fact, really a toad and thus, in his understanding, not truly a familiar.
When the woman returned with the ale and learned what had happened, she was absolutely devastated, screaming and lunging at the doctor. He tried to calm her with gifts and explanations, all to no avail. Eventually he lost patience and identified himself as the king’s physician, telling her that instead of crying for her toad, she should be rejoicing that he wasn’t having her tried for witchcraft. Dr Harvey was an early scientific hero and this story is often understood as a parable recounting an early triumph of science over superstition.

Ferrets (Polecats) and Weasels
Perhaps only hyenas attract the same level of fear and revulsion as weasels. True, many people dislike cats, spiders, wolves, and snakes but that loathing tends to be mingled with grudging admiration. Even people who claim to be all-around animal lovers frequently make an exception for weasels, perceived as disgusting, blood-thirsty, evil creatures with no redeeming features. They might be surprised to know that once upon a time, in some places, weasels were admired, useful, and sacred.
The order Mustelidae encompasses weasels, ferrets, badgers, stoats, polecats, fishers, martens, minks, wolverines, otters, and the most famous member of the family, the skunk. It’s a smelly family; the order’s name derives from its members’ ability to produce must (musk) from their well-developed anal glands.
Mustelidae are a well-distributed family and the identification of weasels with witchcraft occurs throughout Europe, Asia, Africa, and North America. Weasels and ferrets traditionally serve as witches’ familiars and as a form into which witches commonly change. Weasels are understood as “witch-creatures.” As with hyenas, the comparison isn’t intended to be complimentary toward witches; however, negative feelings towards weasels tend to be based on misinformation, misinterpretation, and untruths.
The Mustelidae family has a lot of members; the names used to refer to various species are frequently used carelessly and interchangeably. Popular understanding of what is a weasel or ferret may not match scientific classification.
Weasels and ferrets are closely related species but they are not identical. Ferrets are exclusively domestic animals; they were domesticated about the same time as cats and were once far more widely distributed as pets. Few people have actually seen a weasel; wild, forest animals, they’re significantly smaller than ferrets. Despite their big reputations, weasels are tiny. Fierce, energetic and truly fearless, they can and will successfully attack creatures many times their size, chickens only one example.
Weasels appear to be magical creatures for a variety of reasons:


Because they are so tiny, like a fairy creature, their ability to bring down a much larger animal appears to be magical—witchcraft. (Fairies were once understood as potentially very dangerous.)

A legend exists (it happens to be untrue) that weasels hypnotize their prey with their “evil gaze” like a snake-charmer. This only adds to their sinister reputation.

Sleek, slim, with tails as long as the rest of their bodies, weasels resemble furry snakes with legs. Like snakes, they burrow in Earth, disappearing within and then suddenly popping out. Their size makes them look like creatures that should be prey, not predator. Brave, fearless killers despite their size, weasels look like a magical blend of cat and snake.

Weasels in Northern climates change colors magically to blend with the seasons. Usually light brown with a white belly in warm weather, many species turn snow white in winter.

Weasels cannot be contained. Houdinis of the animal world, they wriggle snake-like out of cages and confinement, disappear into holes in Earth, leap and climb to precarious heights, and twist their limber bodies into all kind of gymnastic feats. Quiet, stealthy, and fast, weasels suddenly jump out like jack-in-the-boxes: pop goes the weasel!
What seems to disturb people most, and the reason why ferrets are banned as pets in places like California, is their manner of killing and eating. People perceive that weasels enjoy killing, have fun with it and are needlessly blood-thirsty, leaving devastation in their wake.
There’s a vestige of truth in this observation but it’s also misunderstood and misinterpreted.
As tiny creatures that kill larger animals, of course what they’ve killed is too much for them to eat (and weasels, unlike wolves, are solitary hunters; there’s no group feast) so, typically, a weasel takes a few bites (more likely a few sips of blood) and then moves on. People see weasels as blood-thirsty, vampiric, murderous creatures and dub them “wasteful killers.” (Of course, this is all relative. From a hyena’s perspective, humans must be incredibly wasteful: we don’t grind up bones and eat them, the way they do.)
It’s difficult to understand weasels’ habits unless you understand weasels. They may as well be poster animals for what was once labeled hyperactivity. Weasels and ferrets in action resemble the cartoon character, “the Tasmanian devil.” Smart, fun, dizzyingly fast, they never stop moving, bouncing, playing—or at least not until they pass out from exhaustion, only to jump back into action as soon as they are refreshed. Not only their bodies but their minds are constantly working. Lively, joyous, curious, not shy: they are extremely fun animals to watch and play with, but they can be dangerous pets. With very low thresholds of boredom, their minds must be constantly engaged. Unlike many cats, dogs, or even snakes and rabbits, ferrets cannot be left alone to sleep or wait for the fun to begin. Left to their own devices, they will escape from any cage and cause havoc in their wake in their desire for fun, adventure, and stimulation.
Weasels possess an extremely high metabolic rate; they need small amounts of food protein more frequently than slower, more sedate, less active creatures. For these tiny creatures, even a few bites are sufficient. Squirrels cache their nuts, leopards store their meat, but this isn’t the nature of the speedy little weasel. It doesn’t think about what’s been left behind but searches for something new. When it’s hungry, it kills again. It may lap blood from its victim’s throat for a quick burst of energy, lending it its reputation as a vampire. (This nature is common to weasels, polecats, and ferrets.)
Despite its name, the European ferret is originally native to the Middle East and North Africa and was domesticated there several thousand years ago. Ferrets are also commonly called polecats, indicating the confusion between cats and weasels. Once upon a time, the classification of species was based on observation, not genetics. Cats and ferrets were perceived as being closely related, although that’s not scientifically true. The same name, “catta,” was used to indicate both ferrets and cats. In old writings, it’s difficult to determine to which the word refers. To add to the confusion, there are wild species known as polecats that are also identified as popular witches’ familiars. These polecats dwell in woods, swamps and marshes, making dens in stream banks or under tree roots.
Ferrets originally played roles not dissimilar from pet cats. Long before cats became common in Europe, ferrets were used to keep homes and storehouses safe from mice, rats, and other vermin. Weasels were famously used as ratcatchers in ancient Rome.
In some places, ferrets are third in popularity as pets, following only dogs and cats. However, there is a reason cats, once they were well distributed geographically, drastically overtook the role once played by ferrets. Adult ferrets behave like crazed kittens. The phrase “curiosity killed the cat” probably applies to ferrets more than it does to felines. With more curiosity than common sense, ferrets get into a lot of trouble. They must be supervised: they get into holes in the walls, behind household appliances; every year ferrets are killed when they sneakily climb inside pullout sofas and are then accidentally crushed.
Weasels are associated with knowledge: they can’t get enough, even when it isn’t beneficial to them. They possess an unstoppable urge to know. This concept survives in the English language when we say someone “weaseled” or “ferreted out” information.
Mythologically speaking, weasels are associated with magic, witchcraft, prophesy, sex, reproduction, death, battle, and healing:


Because of their shape, weasels are associated with human genitalia.

Because they slip easily in and out of Earth, weasels were understood as messengers between the realms of daily reality, the after-life and the spirit world. Fearless, smart, and persistent, nothing will stop them from accomplishing a mission.

Because they can dig their way out of anything, and escape from any confinement, they are associated with successful childbirth, their powers beseeched to quicken a child stalled in the womb or birth canal.
In the North American Pacific Northwest, the mink (a form of weasel) is the embodiment of the cultural trickster hero. He prepares Earth for human habitation. Mink differs from other trickster heroes like Coyote, Raven or Rabbit because of his suave, amorous, untiring nature; he is the lover-boy supreme!
In Apuleius’ tale The Golden Ass, a man is paid to guard a corpse from Thessalian witches. The witch ultimately approaches, stealthily and successfully, in the form of a weasel. She gets what she wants and simultaneously manages to play an enormous trick on the hero of the story, too. (See CREATIVE ARTS: Literature: The Golden Ass.)
According to Greek myth, Hera sought to prevent or at least painfully delay Hercules’ mother, Alcmene, from giving birth to him. Depending on the version told, she posted either a childbirth deity or a pack of witches before Alcmene’s birth chamber with instructions to delay her at all cost. Seven days of hard labor later, Alcmene was in agony and near death. The plot was finally foiled by Alcmene’s devoted servant, Galanthis, who stopped the jinx with a trick. In the midst of all the angst and misery, in the presence of the goddess or witches, Galanthis laughed with gusto. Her laughter broke the spell; they assumed Alcmene had given birth and ceased their spell-work. Hera punished Galanthis by transforming her into a weasel, as a rebuke for trickery and too much cleverness. Weasel-shaped Galanthis ran off to the midwife-witch goddess Hecate, who offered admiration and respect for Galanthis’ ability to provide successful, safe delivery despite formidable odds. Hecate adopted the weasel as her sacred servant.

Flies
Flies play various roles in witchcraft: as witches’ familiars; as witches’ weapons; as the vehicle for the shaman’s wandering soul. Flies were anciently associated with the mysteries of birth and death. Once upon a time, especially in the Middle East, flies were understood as souls of the dead searching for new incarnations. Souls were believed able to travel between lives in insect form. The Philistine deity Baal-Zebub, an aspect of the masculine fertility spirit Baal, is Lord of the Flies, the Shepherd of Souls. He would eventually become demonized and transformed into Beelzebub, a synonym for Satan.
Flies also represent the shaman’s journeying soul, whether literally or figuratively. Flies were envisioned as flying in and out of the entranced shaman’s open mouth. Should the fly be unable to return, the soul might be stuck in limbo, the shaman forever unable to awaken from the trance.
Flies may also be spirits in disguise and not particularly nice ones either. According to Arabic legend, King Solomon once transformed a mass of malevolent djinn into flies, imprisoning three million of them within a black glass bottle, which was then hidden inside a well near Babylon. Centuries later, local people searching for treasure came upon the bottle and broke it, releasing the flies/djinn, who were free but, unable to break Solomon’s transformation spell, were more spiteful and malevolent than ever.
Flies serve as witches’ familiars, especially in Scandinavia. Flies journey out to do the witch’s bidding (not always malevolent) and scout out information. Those imprisoned on accusations of witchcraft were often inadvertently betrayed by flies or other insects. Although they might emphatically deny the charges, even under torture, witch-hunters would claim that the presence of persistent, hovering flies was proof that the person had a familiar and was thus a witch. Of course, considering the standards of sanitation and cleanliness in a medieval prison, plus the presence of blood and pus from untreated, infected wounds incurred during torture, how could there not be flies?
Sometimes accused witches died before they could be executed, acquitted or otherwise released, whether because of suicide, miscalculated torture or deliberate murder. Because witch trials were legal proceedings, none of those scenarios was officially acceptable. The truth of the situation was often hushed up by blaming it on the flies; allegedly Beelzebub had sent emissaries in the form of flies to help the witches “escape” judgment.
Flies are often perceived negatively within traditional witchcraft.


Saami shamans allegedly kept flies in magic boxes to be sent out as desired to cause injury, or at least so claimed their non-Saami neighbors.

Not all flies are bewitched flies but the ones that are may be fatal: throughout Tanzania, special flies allegedly attack and kill victims at night as directed by the sorcerers who control them.

According to Pueblo Indian folklore, witches control flies and other insects, directing them to nefarious, destructive purposes.

Foxes
Foxes are intensely identified with witchcraft in East Asia, and most profoundly in Japan where they are the witchcraft animal supreme. Foxowning is a specific form of witchcraft, unique to Japan.
The fox’s role in witchcraft may derive from its ancient importance in Japanese spirituality. Inari is the ancient but still immensely popular Shinto spirit of rice, food, and nourishment. Inari brings prosperity, fertility, and abundance and has shrines in every Japanese farming village. The fox is Inari’s sacred animal, messenger and, sometimes, alter ego. Stone or wooden foxes are always found in front of Inari’s shrines. The fox and Inari merge to form one being: the question of which came first, the fox or the human shape, is irrelevant. They are parallel forms of the sacred being.
You’ll notice I haven’t used either “he” or “she” to refer to Inari; that’s because Inari’s gender(s) remains subject of debate. Today Inari is most commonly depicted as a bearded man carrying bundles of rice, however Inari also manifests as a beautiful woman or as a female fox. Inari’s female manifestation is believed to be older, predating the introduction of Buddhism into Japan. There is much debate in spiritual and academic communities as to whether Inari has always possessed both male and female manifestations or whether the original, primal spirit was female but over time, for socio-political and religious reasons, the male form became preferable and more common.
Inari in her feminine aspect is also intensely involved with sex, fertility, reproduction, and the magical arts, not only agricultural abundance. Similar but exclusively female fox spirits possessing strong ties to magic and witchcraft exist in China, India, and Tibet.
Once upon a time, Japanese fox spirits were protectors, teachers, and sponsors of witchcraft. Even now some fox spirits are saintly and helpful. (And the foxes that serve as Inari’s messengers are miracle workers, understood as sacred and godly.) However, as centuries passed, attitudes towards witchcraft became more ambivalent, and fox spirits became feared. Why?
Fox spirits are held responsible for illness and misfortune. They possess victims, similar to possession by demons, dybbuks or zar spirits. (This isn’t ritual possession or channeling; it’s involuntary and unpleasant—see MAGICAL ARTS: Ritual Possession.) Sometimes full possession (spiritual takeover) results; sometimes only individual symptoms of possession. Symptoms of fox possession include hearing voices, insatiable and indiscriminate appetite, nocturnal feelings of suffocation plus increasing facial resemblance to a fox: The person begins to develop a visible “snout.”
Eventually the fox may push the true individual out, taking over body, soul, and personality, either full-time or just intermittently. The fox spirit speaks through the person’s mouth, often indulging in obscenities, frequently sexual, which the person would normally never use. (See CREATIVE ARTS: Dance: Tarantella.)
Specific individuals and families are believed to control fox spirits. The solitary fox-owner is most frequently believed to be a corrupt and degenerate sorcerer or exorcist, the proverbial shaman-gone-bad. Although fox familiars are disproportionately female, those humans who put them to evil use are usually male.
Although most fox spirits are perceived as greedy or power-hungry, spiritual motivation may exist as well; what the fox spirit may really desire is a shrine and daily offerings. The only way for them to make their desire known is through a human mouth, similar to African zar spirits.
Solitary sorcerers dispatch foxes to carry out nefarious deeds. The old extortion racket may be at play: what seems like a perfectly respectable exorcist who specializes in ridding people of fox-spirit possession may actually be the source of that possession, the one who sent the fox. No wonder he can exorcise the spirit: the fox is his familiar who always does his bidding. Fox spirits may also be rented out to others for a fee, to perform their secret, dirty work as well. (Fox spirits tend to run in packs. As opposed to the concept of one familiar per person, the fox-owner may have a large number of fox spirits to work with. Seventy-five is a typical number, although there may be less. Foxes in the wild do not run in packs incidentally, being relatively solitary creatures.)
Fox spirits are fed daily; in return the familiar performs various magical services on the person’s behalf. It is a mutually beneficial relationship although neighbors may see the fox-owner as threatening and possessing unfair advantages.
Fox spirits run in families. Families who are hereditary owners of foxes typically transmit this hereditary power through the female line. For centuries tremendous fear and social stigma have been attached to families rumored to be fox-owners. Not only is it hereditary, fox-owning may be contagious too. One becomes contaminated (at least by the social stigma) by living in a house formerly occupied by a fox-owner or by possessing his or her property. Contamination may be avoided by avoiding the fox family: don’t visit them, don’t socialize with them, don’t engage in any financial transactions with them, don’t be friends with them (but don’t offend them either; you don’t want them coming after you), and don’t marry into their family—most especially don’t marry their women.
Japan has never had European-style witch-hunts; few witches have been killed. Instead their punishment is intense social ostracism. Occasionally ostracism has evolved into violence: houses burned down as retribution and/or entire families banished.
This isn’t ancient history: in 1952 a young couple committed suicide together because the woman came from a family with a reputation for fox-owning and the man’s family forbade their marriage. Because fox power is transmitted through the female line, they feared its impact (perhaps magically but certainly socially) on their family.
Just like real foxes are believed to surreptitiously raid chicken coops, fox spirits are believed to rob the neighbors. (Fox-owners are believed to gain wealth at the expense of others. To become suddenly, mysteriously wealthy is to leave oneself open to accusations of malevolent witchcraft—particularly if anyone else in the area is simultaneously suffering misfortune.)
In China, fox spirits retain their positive identity. Among their primary roles is the protection of archivists and librarians. Should a document be lost, missing or otherwise unable to be located, offerings are made to the fox spirit. After the offering is made, the archivist leaves the room for a little while to give the spirit space and opportunity to work its magic. Upon his return, the document, book or scroll should stick out or somehow draw attention to itself.
Despite the ostracism, you’d like a fox familiar. If you’re not from a family associated with them, where do you begin?
How does one obtain a fox familiar? A late seventeenth-century work contains an account of the Izuna Rite, the magical ritual by which people gain power over fox familiars:

1 Find a pregnant fox.
2 Feed her, care for her, form an alliance with her during her pregnancy but especially afterwards when she’s needy and vulnerable.
3 YOU CANNOT TAKE A CUB, NO MATTER WHAT. This isn’t “fluffybunny” magic; I’m not making this up. This is what the seventeenth-century text instructs. If you are meant to have a fox familiar, when the cubs are sufficiently grown, the mother will bring you one and tell you to name it.
4 Name the fox but keep the name secret. Henceforth, if you call the name, the fox will come to you in invisible form. No one else will be able to see the fox spirit, only you. Nothing is ever entirely hidden, however, so be prepared for others to attribute supernatural powers to you.

Frogs and Toads
Frogs and their land counterparts, toads, are probably the most ancient and universal fertility symbols. The toad represented the uterus for the ancient Greeks, Romans, and Scandinavians. It is a fertility symbol throughout the Semitic world. Some theorize that this association was made because of the appearance of frogs prior to the flooding of rivers, an important herald of fruitfulness in desert lands.
Frogs seemed to call the rain or maybe to announce it. Frogs herald the start of the rainy season in Puerto Rico, too. Here on the other side of the world, years before Columbus, they became the ancient Taino emblem of fertility. Frogs represented fertility to the Aztecs and Mayans and to various indigenous cultures of North and South America. The Aymara of Bolivia and Peru traditionally placed small frog images on hill tops to magically call down rain when it was needed.
Frogs are related to human reproductive issues throughout East Asia. In China, frogs exemplify maximum yin, the ultimate feminine force. There’s no man in the moon, according to Chinese folklore; only a woman, a rabbit, and a frog—each one symbolic of intense yin forces as is the moon herself.
Frogs and toads are amphibians: they begin their lives as water creatures (tadpoles) but eventually shape-shift into land dwellers. According to estimates there are at least 4,360 species of frogs (including toads) worldwide. Frogs are found on every continent except Antarctica.
Maybe people perceived the link between frogs and fertility because, although they need to await proper conditions, when the frog finally does give birth, the tadpoles are so numerous. The tadpole is the Egyptian hieroglyphic for the number 100,000. Frogs appeared in great numbers during the annual Nile floods; they were harbingers of abundance and prosperity.
Maybe the shape of the tadpole and its watery environment were reminiscent of the human embryo. Modern people see a resemblance between the form of a tadpole and the shape of a sperm. Rationales are fascinating but ultimately tell us more about people than about frogs. What is significant is that very early in the development of human cultures and thought, the frog and the toad became symbols of birth and the entire regenerative process.
Eventually, the frog became a Halloween animal—a representation of the witch. This is for a reason: in Europe, frogs represented midwives. In the way that a barber’s pole advises you that haircuts are available, the frog was the midwife’s advertisement: “I can help you have a safe and easy birth.” When midwives became denigrated as witches, the frog was condemned as her familiar, her telltale sign.
Frogs represented the force that initiates life to the Egyptians, symbolic of the sacred powers of fertility, regeneration, and rebirth. In one Egyptian creation story, the world is formed from primordial chaos by the collective efforts of four frogs and four snakes. Heket may be the most ancient of Egypt’s many deities. Controller of human fecundity, the consort of the spirit of the Nile, she was revered as the “Giver of Life, Goddess of Primordial Waters” and as “the great magician.” Her hieroglyphic symbol was the frog. Heket could manifest purely in frog shape as well as a woman with a frog’s head. (Whether Egyptian Heket is or isn’t identical to Anatolian Hecate remains subject to fierce debate.)
Not all frogs are female: ancient Celts called frogs “Lords of the Earth,” identifying them with healing waters and sacred wells. Vestiges of these royal frogs linger in European fairy tales, like “The Frog Prince,” where enchanted frogs lurk in magical wells awaiting transformation into fabulous princes by true love’s kiss. Because toad venom may be hallucinogenic, frogs and toads are also associated with shamanism and divination.
Although most ancient associations with frogs and toads were positive, it wasn’t always the case: Zoroaster declared that all toads should be exterminated because of their venomous, malevolent nature. This exception to the rule eventually became the general perception in post-Christian Europe. Toads and frogs were perceived variously as slimy or warty, disguised demons or witches’ familiars.
Toads’ associations with magic, fertility, and women’s wisdom never disappeared but they were certainly reinterpreted. From Northern Italy upwards through Germany, Poland, and the Ukraine, toads are named by words that also indicate “fairies,” “witches,” and “sorcerers.” In parts of Italy, for instance, frogs are called “fada” or fairy. “Rospo,” the Italian word for toad, may derive from the Latin “haruspex,” the word used for Etruscan diviners.
By the Middle Ages frogs and toads were considered among witches’ most prevalent familiars. According to Reginald Scot, author of The Discoverie of Witchcraft published in 1584, toads were considered second in popularity only to the cat as a witch’s familiar.
In Shakespeare’s Macbeth, when the witches say “Paddock calls” they refer to a familiar toad, “paddock” being a diminutive of the Anglo-Saxon word for toad “pad.”
According to testimony given during Basque witch trials (on the French side of the Pyrenees) toads were favored familiars. Great companies of witches allegedly traveled to cemeteries for the purpose of “baptizing” their toads, which were dressed to celebrate in black and red velvet with bells at their neck and feet. One young woman claimed to have seen a noble lady dancing at the Sabbat with four toads: one belled and costumed in velvet riding on her right shoulder, three more naked toads riding on her left shoulder and wrists.
Frogs and toads were perceived as diabolical, disgusting and grotesque. A Swiss woodcut from approximately 1500 depicts a dead witch lying on a table following her dissection. A large toad is shown where her heart should be: this was intended to demonstrate her depraved, inhuman, demonic nature.
Old memories die hard, however; even in post-Christian, post-witchcraze Europe, there was resistance towards abandoning this most potent and ancient of fertility symbols. According to Central European tradition frogs carried dead children’s souls, thus it was unlucky to kill them. A once popular Central European tradition involves offering frog-shaped ex-votos at the Virgin Mary’s shrines as part of a petition for fertility and women’s gynecological health.
Ancient people considered fierce, dangerous mothers desirable. A passive mother who couldn’t or wouldn’t defend her children only left them vulnerable. Thus it’s no surprise that many beautiful goddesses of fecundity also double as war goddesses (Aphrodite, Ishtar, Oshun). Frogs (and especially toads) may be harbingers of abundance, but they’re also potentially dangerous, venomous creatures.
When attacked or injured a toad secretes a thick white poison through its skin. This sometimes hallucinogenic, often lethal substance is now called bufotenine. Once upon a time, it was known as “toad’s milk” and was incredibly feared. Allegedly an ingredient in many witches’ flying ointments, it is typically the key ingredient in Amazonian arrow poison. It was believed that witches dispatched toads to poison their enemies. During Scotland’s North Berwick witch trials, Agnes Sampson confessed (under duress) to attempting to assassinate King James VI with poisonous toad juice. Toad venom may be among the ingredients of the formula that transforms people into zombis.

Goats
General wisdom states that goats were the first animals to be successfully domesticated. Goats are involved in a lot of firsts:


Goats are credited with leading people to coffee, once a sacred beverage. (For many, it still is.) An Ethiopian shepherd noticed that his goats were particularly perky; he watched as they chewed coffee berries and tried some himself, thus initiating the cult of caffeine.

Goats brought various fragrant resins to people, most especially rock roses, among Aphrodite’s holy flowers. The aromatic essence was discovered clinging to goats’ beards.

Some of the most ancient existing evidence of magical/spiritual ritual involves the unearthed funeral rites of a Neanderthal child discovered in Teshik-Tash, modern Uzbekistan. The child’s partial skeleton was encircled by ibex horns, a type of wild goat, arranged vertically in pairs, the pointed ends stuck into the ground, reminiscent of later European funerary spells that involve driving spindles into the ground, usually intended to quiet the restless dead.

Goats are responsible for the discovery of the Oracle of Delphi. Before there was ever a shrine, Delphi was a playground for goats, which thrived on the rocky terrain. Humans followed them up the slopes and domesticated them c. 1400 BCE. As legend tells it, a massive earthquake created a chasm or fissure at Delphi through which some sort of vapor emanated. (Modern science has been unable to detect or explain these vapors.) Goats exposed to the vapors were observed to act strangely, suffering spasms and bleating in odd voices. Their keepers began to have similar experiences except that their odd voices were discovered to be prophetic. Delphi eventually became an organized oracular shrine, originally dedicated to Gaia, the Earth and then to Apollo. Goats remained the ritual sacrifice at Delphi.
Goats are associated with love, knowledge, fertility, prophesy, expiation, regeneration, and rebirth. They are intensely associated with sex, sexual energy, and the procreative urge and power. Goats serve as Aphrodite’s mount and as companions of various Middle Eastern fertility spirits, including Inanna-Ishtar and Lady Asherah. Perceptions change: once upon a time, comparing a man to a goat implied admiration. Today’s “old goat” is a pathetic, foolish lecher, kind of like those dumb-ass donkeys.
According to a Germanic magic spell, goat tallow rubbed onto the penis serves as a babe magnet, irresistibly attracting women.
Goats were profoundly involved with a multitude of ancient spiritual traditions including Celtic, Greek, Jewish, Norse, Roman, and Sumerian. Goats are sacred to Aphrodite, Azazel, Dionysus, Freya, Hera, Hermes, Pan, Thor, Zeus: sexy deities, one and all.
Goats were respected, sacred, and beloved in ancient religion. Goats were people’s teachers, companions and in many places, primary food animal, supplying meat, milk, dairy products, and material for clothing and tents.
Goats were not generally considered to be witches’ familiars, nor do witches transform into goats. Goats do frequently serve as witches’ mounts however, and many medieval woodblock prints depicting witchcraft show witches riding on goats’ backs, just like Aphrodite, although this may have been intended to euphemistically suggest that witches copulate with the devil. No animal is more associated with the Christian devil than the goat. Artistic renditions of the sabbat from the Middle Ages to Goya’s masterpieces depict Satan presiding over the witches’ sabbat in the form of a tall man-sized upright goat. Satan is also depicted as a composite creature, frequently with bat’s wings and a snake’s forked tongue, but with goat’s eyes, horns and hooves.
More in-depth discussion of goats’ ancient spiritual roles and the part they were given to play during the Witchcraze are found in HORNED ONE.

Hyenas
The stereotypical African witch doesn’t have a pointy hat or broomstick but she’s still a night rider journeying to secret assignations with other witches. These female witches ride naked atop galloping hyenas, with one foot dragging on the ground, the other on the hyena. (Allegedly this enables the hyena to attain extraordinary speed.) The witch carries a flaming torch, fueled with hyena butter, keeping an extra supply in a gourd slung over her shoulder so there’s no danger of running out.
It’s the hyenas that reveal her identity. Hyenas are believed to be the telltale sign that causes someone, usually but not exclusively women, to be branded a witch in Africa. Any evidence, regardless how flimsy or tangential, linking someone with hyenas may be considered proof of sorcery in African witchcraft trials.
Witches ride hyenas. Witches keep hyena familiars. Witches are hyenas. Witches shape-shift into hyenas. Zambian sorcerers enter trances and send their souls into the bodies of real hyenas. In other areas, there’s no such thing as “real” hyenas: all are magical creatures, witches in disguise or witches’ familiars. There’s no such thing as a hyena that is not somehow affiliated with witchcraft.
Hyenas who are witches take spiritual possession of people, creating a kind of soul-hyena: the victimized person doesn’t physically transform, but inside, where a human soul should be, lurks this hyena. If your best friend doesn’t act like herself, maybe it’s because she isn’t herself: a hyena has supplanted her soul and taken over her body.
People who are witches transform hyenas into human likenesses. They can selectively choose the likeness, too. If your best friend begins to act strangely, maybe it really wasn’t him at all but a hyena in disguise. In other words, there are two of them walking around: the real one and the disguised hyena—something like a Swan Lake scenario but with hyenas instead of swans. Witches are also believed able to create hyenas: their bodies are molded from porridge and brought to life via rituals and herbs.
Witches are believed able to cast sleeping spells on hyenas, transforming them into their own likeness, putting them to bed beside their own husbands so that the witches can secretly slip out with no fear that the husband will ever wake up and discover their disappearance. (During European witch trials, witches allegedly used brooms, branches, and sticks in identical manner for the same purpose. Because this was generally believed, husbands testifying that their wives couldn’t possibly have attended sabbats as they had been home in bed together were thus unable to provide alibis for their wives.)
According to Bantu tradition, real hyenas are perfectly capable of transforming into human form without any help from a witch. The transformation may, however, only be accomplished during the day. Some hyenas shape-shift in order to visit, harass or terrorize humans, but some do it just for the joy of shape-shifting. Whole communities of shape-shifting hyenas are said to exist; although to an outsider they may look exactly like ordinary people. Don’t try to stay in their village, though, no matter how friendly the locals seem; they may look like people but they still eat like hyenas. In order to shape-shift like this, hyenas must obtain a human soul. How this is done varies but hyenas that eat human corpses, as hyenas are known to do, may have the inside track.
Throughout Africa, hyenas allegedly live and bear their young in the houses of witches who milk them daily.
In some areas, although not many, hyenas gain some level of protection from their associations with witchcraft: it’s believed dangerous to kill a hyena because her witch will magically retaliate.
In parts of East Africa, every witch is believed to own at least one hyena, which is branded with her special witch-mark, something like a bewitched cattle brand, invisible to regular eyes although clearly visible to other witches. Witches allegedly refer to their hyenas as “night cattle.” People swear they’ve seen hyenas sporting earrings, either indicating that they’re transformed people or that a person pierced that ear, as even the most magical hyena still lacks the skills for employment in a piercing parlor. (None of these tales actually derive from witches themselves; all are second-hand at best.)
The art of hyena riding is apparently very challenging. Novice witches must be trained at regular bush meetings where mounted witches gather. These rendezvous are reminiscent of European sabbats with one crucial exception. Yes, witches gather for orgies, cannibalism and all sorts of evil works, but there’s no devil in attendance. Like female hyenas, which are the dominant gender of their species, no need for a male director of ceremonies exists.
Observing the powerful identification of hyenas with witches in Africa that exists even today makes one think that this is how it must have been with black cats and witches during the European Burning Times. Any association between a cat and a woman was believed to betray witchcraft: witches rode cats, kept cats, transformed into cats. Even lone cats, sans women, were believed to be witches in disguise. There is one crucial difference though: even at the height of the Witchcraze, cats were understood to be beautiful, sensuous, sometimes useful creatures. They might be evil but seductively so. An element of longing exists: a desire to destroy what one can’t possess or control.
In Africa, hyenas are associated with garbage, feces, corpses, death, cemeteries, decay, and rotten odors. (And there are places where hyenas do live on human garbage and refuse or lurk in cemeteries, although this tends to be in urbanized areas where few other alternatives remain for them.) They are the largest creatures to exist mainly from scavenging. They are ungainly, awkward creatures, shaggy, smelly, and ragged-looking. They get into garbage; they unearth graves. They are not afraid of people, stealthily entering settlements at night in search of food, their identities exposed by glowing eyes and their characteristic, eerie laughter.
Hyenas are actually extremely interesting creatures, with unusual social structures and unusual genital structures, too. Females are the dominant gender within hyena society; unlike many species, females are 10 percent larger than males. Hyena females eat first; males wait to eat whatever’s left over. Of course, this was difficult to determine for a long time. Male and female hyena genitals are virtually indistinguishable from each other, at least for human observers. Female spotted hyenas have highly developed, extremely large clitorises with erectile potential. (Subservient female hyenas—not the alphas—are the only creatures who display genital erections as a sign of submission; hyenas greet each other via genital inspection.) They urinate, copulate, and give birth through these clitorises. Scientists who study sex hormones adore hyenas: females have extremely high levels of androgens, traditionally considered the male sex hormone. These androgens are converted to testosterone, of which female hyenas possess a high level, especially when pregnant. A pregnant hyena’s testosterone level may exceed that of the males. (Hyenas are used in animal research to study hormones.)
Hyenas have their own family group, the Hyaenid. Based on fossil evidence there may have once been more than 69 species. Hyenas were once found in Europe as well as African and Asia, where they exist today. However, only four species survive.
Witch hyenas tend to be striped and spotted hyenas, and most especially spotted ones, which are the species commonly known as “laughing hyenas.”
Animals strongly identified with witchcraft tend to be formerly sacred animals who’ve since lost their reputations and are now feared and despised, like witches and the magical arts. Most of these animals have former spiritual affiliations with profound life-and-death topics: sex, birth, and the after-life. Do hyenas have a similar history? It’s hard to tell; very little information is available. All these tales of night-riding come from outsiders, anthropologists, witch-hunters, missionaries, and story-tellers. There are some clues however:


This association of malevolent witchcraft with an animal species characterized by dominant females with visibly large penis-sized clitorises occurs in areas where female genital mutilation (excision of the clitoris) is a traditional practice. The very lack of discussion of hyenas when discussing mythic explanations for female genital excision is revealing. (The most commonly told myth involves removal of termite hills.)

Some African tribes traditionally dispose of their dead by putting the bodies out in the bush for hyenas to eat, something that smacks of sacrifice.

In Harar, Ethiopia, people feed hyenas and encourage scavenging. It’s become an oddity, something for tourists to see, so there’s little serious spiritual discussion of the bonds between Ethiopia’s “hyena men” and the animals they feed, at personal financial sacrifice and in the face of social ostracism.

Hyenas are traditionally believed allied to vultures, scavengers who are also now feared and disliked but who were sacred birds in Egypt and elsewhere. The word for “vulture” in ancient Egyptian was synonymous with “mother.”

Medieval Europeans believed that there was a stone within the hyena’s eye (there isn’t), which, when placed under a person’s tongue, enabled one to foretell the future.

Hyenas are associated with smiths and other artisans, respected, required members of society who are also feared and associated with sorcery, the original professional magicians. These artisans transform raw materials (ore, clay) into practical, beautiful, sometimes spiritual goods. Hyenas are believed able to transform themselves.
Legendary associations of hyenas and witches make for good stories but like the identification of cats with witches during the Burning Times, this is really no laughing matter.
Associations of hyenas with smithcraft and witchcraft are not only folkloric fantasy tales but have had a massive impact on people’s lives, contributing to tragic prejudice. Hyenas are associated with individuals but also with ethnic groups who are thus tarred by associations with malevolent witchcraft. The word “buda” (also spelled “bouda”) indicates “hyena-person.” During the day budas appear to be ordinary people but at night budas either transform into hyenas or they ride on the backs of hyenas in great packs.
Budas and hyenas are believed to possess the Evil Eye, which leaves their victims drained and debilitated. Specific ailments are also associated with the Evil Eye. There’s no obvious physical attack; there may be no contact, however fleeting, with a hyena. This is a spiritual, magical attack.
Traditionally budas are ironworkers and potters. Wherever people fear the buda, there are professional buda experts, similar to European witch-finders. They are engaged to determine the identity of the buda who cast the Evil Eye.
There are various methods of lifting the Evil Eye:a simple case may be cured via incantation, but in persistent cases an expert may be consulted to determine the identity of the buda, which is believed necessary to break the spell. Sometimes the victim is made to identify the buda, even if they claim complete ignorance. The victim, who by definition is already not feeling too well whatever the cause, is interrogated (sometimes harshly, sometimes for hours) until identification of the perpetrator is made.


The victim may be brought before the alleged buda who is forced to spit upon the victim, his saliva believed to vanquish the Evil Eye.

If the expert buda-finder is unable to determine the identity of the buda, the victim’s forehead may be stamped with a hot iron brand. This signature mark will allegedly show up on the face of the guilty buda, too, providing identification. As you can imagine, buda-finders who resort to this tactic frequently are not in high demand.

Goma smoke is another method of stopping and reversing the effects of the Evil Eye. The ability to use fire characterizes the buda (whether smith or potter). So fighting fire with fire, smoke is generated to counteract and eliminate the effects. This is not just any old smoke: goma smoke is produced by burning tires or chicken feces alongside an assortment of woods. It is not fragrant, quite the opposite. On market days when artisans pass through villages, goma is lit as protective fires before residences.

Goma is also used to identify the buda. Perceived victims of the Evil Eye are tortured by being smoked with goma, which has an oppressively foul smell, until they name the perpetrator. Once the perpetrator is named, the guilty party is summoned to face the victim, apologize and remove the Eye. There’s no such thing as inability; if they can’t, it’s perceived that they won’t. An article of the buda’s clothing may be taken (sometimes right off their body) and thrown into the goma fire. The victim inhales smoke rising from the cloth.
The victim has no choice but to identify someone; he or she is not left alone until this is accomplished (and the victim is typically a child). The accused must also participate in the ritual, no matter how absurd or insulting, or risk being killed by a mob.
Although any individuals may be buda, the term buda is most frequently used in Ethiopia to refer to its Jewish community, the Beta Israel, who are simultaneously ethnic, religious, and professional minorities.
Beta Israel men are traditionally smiths, the women potters—transformative professions viewed by the majority Christian society with ambivalence. Tools and handicrafts are vital, needed, and highly valued yet the practice is despised (working the land being perceived as the only respectable, sanctified occupation) and associated with witchcraft—as are the practitioners, to whom supernatural powers are attributed. To be an artisan is demeaning, yet magically powerful. Forbidden to own land, historically the Beta Israel have worked as tenant farmers for Christians, often in share-cropper-like circumstances.
Available information regarding traditional African witchcraft is virtually always filtered through the eyes of anthropologists or missionaries but there are a few important exceptions: Hagar Salamon’s The Hyena People (University of California Press, 1999) contains interviews with people who survived accusations of being budas. And Nega Mezlekia’s Notes from the Hyena’s Belly (St Martin’s Press, 2000), a memoir of the author’s Ethiopian youth, gives a brief but significant explanation from the victim’s perspective.

Imps
Today, should someone suggest that you have an impish smile or impish charm, it’s probably a compliment. Most likely you’re being compared to a charmingly naughty child. Of course, today, should someone call you “little devil” or “little demon” that’s probably a compliment too, not intended to be taken literally or as a threatening, hostile statement.
Perhaps because some people needed to believe that they were inherently superior to animals, many witch-hunters had a hard time fathoming that witches’ familiars, their trusted allies and companions, were really animals. If they had superior powers, they couldn’t be mere animals; they must be little demons or devils in disguise.
Imps were small demons who, commonly disguised as animals, served as witches’ familiars. Because they were supernatural creatures they could be expected to perform services that no true animal ever could, like fly through the air, invisibly cause death and destruction, or mysteriously torment victims of witchcraft. In areas where witchcraft was intensely demonized, it was believed that when a new witch was initiated at her first sabbat, Satan personally gave her an imp, not so much to serve her but to act as her control, ensuring that the witch carried out her assigned quota of nefarious deeds.
Unlike traditional familiars, which behaved like the regular animals that they were, eating and sleeping in the manner appropriate to their species, imps had special needs. Because imps were vampiric, witches were obliged to feed them using their own body fluids, milk if they were mothers, blood if not. (What type of blood imps fed upon is not entirely clear.) Witches were believed to grow an extra nipple just to feed their little imp. The search for supernumerary nipples became a common feature of later witch-trials, although it might be “found” in odd parts of the body and in odd forms.
Should the witch’s own fluids be insufficient, the imp might go and milk neighboring livestock completely dry. These imps would travel in the form of familiar animals like bats, hedgehogs, ferrets or cats leading to strange, implausible fears about certain animals being harmful to cattle. Hedgehogs are still commonly believed to steal cow’s milk, as are bats; of course the old stories never referred to real animals—thefts were caused by supernatural imps in masquerade.
The root concept of the imp may derive from small shape-shifting spirits previously understood as friendly and helpful. Pagan European households, from Italy to Lithuania, once cherished snake-spirit household helpers. Some spirits weren’t exclusively tied to one animal form: Finland’s para, for instance, are domestic spirits known to assume the forms of cats, frogs or snakes. Attached to a person or family, they magically increase supplies of butter, milk, grain, and cash. (In later folklore, para are classified as goblins.)
As the witch-trials faded from memory, the older pagan conception of animal-shaped, mischievous domestic spirits re-emerged. Imps, those little devils, became figures of fun, mischief, and humor, albeit sometimes with a nasty edge. Imps entered the lexicon of Halloween via Victorian postcards, where they are not depicted as animals but as bright red devils, an image borrowed from the Central European “devil,” Krampus, who starred in his own postcard series. This type of imp, fun, lascivious, and joyful, is drawn to perfection in Kipling West’s The Halloween Tarot.

Iynx (Wryneck)
Iynx is the name of a nymph, a bird, and an ancient Greek love charm. The famous charm consists of a miniature spinning wheel to which a wryneck bird is attached. It’s a very primitive device; it could be a child’s handmade toy, except for that poor suffering bird. The wheel is ritually spun, accompanied by incantations to draw and bind a lover. As the spellcaster murmurs and chants, she spins the toy, which makes a humming noise, similar to heavy breathing.
Iynx the nymph was a daughter of Pan and Echo. She invented the device that bears her name as an attempt to get back at Hera who had stolen Echo’s voice. Iynx used the device to force Zeus to fall for Io. Not to be outdone in this witch-war, the furious Hera promptly transformed Iynx into a wryneck.
What does the bird have to do with the charm? Why specifically a wryneck? The Greek word for the wryneck, a species of woodpecker, is iynx, named for its cry. (Allegedly the nymph announces her name so that family and friends will recognize her in her altered state.) The bird gets its English name, “wryneck,” from the characteristic movement of its head. When the wryneck is endangered or otherwise stressed, its defense mechanism is to extend its neck further than one would believe it could, twist it around and simultaneously fluff up its head feathers. With that long neck and puffed-up head, the wryneck resembles a snake—.causing its predators to think twice before attacking, and causing people to draw some other sexually-oriented comparisons.
Not surprisingly, the charm was a woman’s tool; its goal to make the man she desired behave like that wryneck—or at least the appropriate parts of him. (And if he wasn’t easily charmed, he’d be caught like that helpless bird. This isn’t a particularly nice spell—its intent is to assertively bind, rather than sweetly seduce.)
Perhaps wrynecks became scarce, perhaps the inherent cruelty became distasteful, or perhaps it was discovered that the spell worked better without the bird. Eventually the wryneck component was abandoned and the spell cast with only the wheel. Even so, it retained its name. Eventually the name came to refer to any sort of aggressive love spell, and then finally to any sort of malevolent spell, romantic or otherwise. That usage survives in English, albeit with the Latin spelling, “jinx.”

Jaguars
Jaguars are ubiquitously identified with witchcraft, sorcery, magic, and shamanism throughout Central and South America. This reflects indigenous belief, existing long before European contact. (European-styled Latin American witchcraft exists too; the most typical familiars are cats, bats, and black dogs. Of course, black panthers/jaguars may be understood as supernaturally giant black cats.)
In this region, jaguars are simultaneously the most feared and revered of animals, playing a very prominent spiritual and magical role. The jaguar is the largest feline in the Western Hemisphere and is considered the most successful predator. Jaguar imagery pervades Central and South America from the Andes Mountains to the swamps of Eastern Mexico. The animal’s range once extended from Argentina north through the southern United States. The jaguar remains the most powerful jungle predator of Central and Upper South America, although its range has been drastically curtailed because of habitat loss, and also because it has been relentlessly hunted as a competitive species, for sport and for its beautiful fur.
The jaguar embodies Earth’s untamed, primal powers. Solitary, secretive creatures, jaguars are comfortable in all possible realms: they kill monkeys in trees, tap their tails into water to attract fish, jump into water to catch caimans, and hunt all sorts of other creatures on land. Jaguars cross boundaries: they are the biggest, fiercest, smartest, most mysterious animals in the jungle. They are believed to cross boundaries of species as well: many legends tell of liaisons between male jaguars and human women.
In Amazonian mythology, the jaguar is considered the Master of All Animals. Jaguars are often portrayed as the central image in depictions, adored by other animals.
The animal manifests in two varieties. The more common, a golden cat with black spots (really rosettes) bears a very strong resemblance to the leopards of the Eastern Hemisphere. Jaguars may also have black fur. (If one looks closely in the light, the rosettes may still be observed.) Completely black jaguars and leopards are both known as black panthers.
The Mayans associated jaguars with the night sky, especially the black panther. Spotted jaguars symbolize the stars in the night sky. Their golden color represents the sun, while their glowing eyes mirror the moon.
Tezcatlipoca, “Lord of the Smoking Mirror,” Aztec Patron of Sorcerers has a jaguar as his nagual or shadow soul. Jaguars’ shining eyes are identified with mirrors and Tezcatlipoca sometimes travels in the guise of his sacred creature. Among Tezcatlipoca’s many manifestations is one as Tepeyollotli—“the Jaguar Who Lives in the Heart of the Mountain,” Earth’s core. According to Aztec belief, supernal jaguars live in caverns beneath the Earth, occasionally emerging as the need arises. A modern Lacandon Mayan prophecy warns that life as we know it will end when these jaguars emerge from their underground cavern home to devour the sun and moon.
Aztec and Mayan shamans specifically identify themselves with jaguars but the association permeates virtually all shamanic cultures throughout the continent. Shamans dress as jaguars. The Mayan word “balam” signifies both “magician-priest” and “jaguar.” The word for “jaguar” also indicates “shaman” in various unrelated indigenous languages. The jaguar protects and teaches the shaman. Many believe that the shaman actually transforms into a jaguar. Real jaguars are also believed to act as jungle shamans. In some tropical rainforest communities, snakes are believed to serve as these jaguar’s familiars.
Jaguars are also profoundly associated with various Amazonian psychoactive plants including ayahuasca. Jaguar motifs decorate paraphernalia needed for preparing brews and powders from these plants. It’s been suggested that real jaguars may chew hallucinogenic vines twined around jungle trees in the manner that domestic cats sometimes chew grass. Perhaps the jaguar literally taught shamans about these plants. (This may or may not be true but the concept isn’t absurd: reindeer have been known to eat the fungus fly agaric: see BOTANICALS: Amanita Muscaria.)
Amazonian shamans still identify with jaguars. Jaguars remain among the most popular subjects of Mexican mask makers, frequently formed with mirrored eyes.

Leopards
Leopards still roam through parts of Africa and Asia, although their range is seriously curtailed because of habitat loss and hunting. Leopards once lived in Europe as well although they are extinct there now. Large, beautiful, solitary wild cats, leopards are fierce, stealthy, nocturnal hunters who are, in theory at least, not averse to hunting a lone human.
Leopards physically resemble jaguars although they are smaller and their spots are really spots, not rosettes. Like jaguars, there are two varieties: golden with black spots and pure black. A pure black leopard would be almost impossible to see at night without illumination, except for its burning, glowing eyes. Author Bruce Chatwin posits that it’s the leopard who lurks as the primordial human fear, the animal power who once scared us most.
Images dating from c. 5700 BCE from Anatolia show goddesses riding leopards. Leopards are integral to the myth of the Anatolian deity, Kybele, the Mountain Mother. Leopards raised her when she was an infant left exposed to die in the forest. Suckled on leopard’s milk, she grew up to be the first root-worker and witch, a queen and great goddess. Leopards flank her throne. (See DIVINE WITCH: Kybele.)
The leopard was sacred to Dionysus, Kybele’s sometime compatriot. Dionysus appears in the form of a leopard; panthers draw his chariot and appear in his entourage. As the word “panther” was also used as a synonym for Dionysus’ female followers, the Maenads—it’s tempting to wonder whether those panthers in his midst were intended to imply women transformed into huge black cats.
Leopards are associated with royalty throughout Africa. Many royal clans count leopards as their primeval ancestors. In some regions, wearing a leopard skin was reserved exclusively for royalty or for the most elite spiritual societies. Artifacts recovered from Tutankhamun’s grave show King Tut riding on the back of a panther. Leopards are also considered ancestors and spiritual sponsors of various African shamanic societies. Leopards were identified with Kenya’s Mau-Mau. Belief that the Mau-Mau could transform into leopard-men contributed to their fearsome reputation.
In Mali, the Bamana/Bambara witch-goddess Muso Koroni manifests as a black panther or as a many-breasted woman. (Some believe that the many-breasted deity from Anatolian Ephesus, commonly identified as either Artemis or Diana, is really that other leopard woman, Kybele.) Muso Koroni oversees initiations: it was believed that she stimulates menstruation by scratching girls with her leopard’s claws. A nocturnal spirit, like a leopard, she rules the boundaries between civilization and wilderness, straddling the balance between chaos and order.
See CREATIVE ARTS: Films: Cat People; DICTIONARY: Maenad; DIVINE WITCH: Dionysus; Muso Koroni.

Magpies
The magpie is large, curious, active bird with a harsh call and a swaggering walk. It originally inhabited scrublands, forests, and other areas with dense foliage but it is now adapted to other areas, including urban habitats. Omnivorous, it eats pretty much whatever it can find: insects, seeds, fruit, small mammals, or carrion. It is a very clever bird and has a reputation for stealing and hoarding shiny objects.
Magpies inhabit North America, Europe, Northwestern Africa, the Middle East, Central and East Asia. Virtually wherever they are found, they are associated with witchcraft either as familiars or, more frequently, as the form into which witches transform. One Russian nickname for witch is “soroka-veschchitsa,” “magpie-witch.”
Magpies are members of the corvid family like jackdaws, crows, and ravens, but they have their own section here for two reasons:

Magpies were understood as a different type of bird. The other three very closely resemble each other in color (solid black) and nature. Magpies are dramatically black and white, although depending upon the light their black feathers may appear blue, green or purple.

Magpies possess very different magical and mythical associations, often specifically identified with romantic and women’s magic.
Magpies are associated with female power, romantic magic, and prophesy. In Macbeth, Shakespeare notes that magpies were used as augurs. Russian folk belief suggests that magpies announce storms. People who live near magpies will notice that the birds often announce the arrival of visitors or other changes.
Scottish, Swedish, and Russian witches commonly take the form of magpies. Latvian witches allegedly adopt the form especially for Midsummer’s Eve. Siberian witches can allegedly transform into any type of bird or animal they wish to: magpies are their most common choice.
Various legends describe Russian magpiewitches. According to one, Ivan the Terrible gathered together all the witches he could find in order to burn them, but before he could, they transformed into magpies and flew away. According to another legend, there are no magpies in Moscow because church leader Metropolitan Alexei, recognizing them for what they truly were, forbade them to fly over the city. The seventeenth-century usurper of the Russian throne, known as the False Dmitrii, had an unpopular Polish wife widely believed to be a sorceress. She allegedly escaped from Moscow by flying away as a magpie. Magpies were also occasionally burned as witches in Russia, or hung onto peasant barns as a warning to witches.
Not all magpie-witches are living transformed witches. One story suggests that murdered witches reincarnate as magpies. They are true birds but their souls remain those of witches. It’s necessary to be kind and respectful to them, some even suggest saluting them, because otherwise they’ll cast a spell on you.
In Russia and elsewhere in Europe, magpies became identified with Satan. In England, they’re known as the devil’s own bird. In Russia, flocks of magpies are associated with Satan, betraying subtle identification of witches with diabolical forces.
Chinese mythology has happier associations. Magpies form the bridge that, one day a year, permits the sacred Weaving Maiden to be reunited with her beloved husband, the Cowherd. In Chinese the epithet “Heavenly Woman” is shared by celestial goddesses and magpies, which may be goddesses in disguise.

Nahual, Nahualli, Naualli, Nagual
Deriving from the Nahuatl (Aztec) language, the word “nahual” indicates different concepts in different regions of Mexico, all having to do with animal alliances. Because the same word is used to describe these linked but different concepts confusion exists. The word is also pronounced slightly differently depending upon region; attempts to transliterate the word into English have resulted in a variety of spellings. None of them is wrong.
Nahual has been translated as “shadow soul,” a human soul’s animal twin. It’s also translated as “mask” or “disguise.” The nahual is an animal ally, although the meaning is more profound than standard modern usage where animal ally may refer to a friend, companion or animal. The relationship is deeper: the nahual may be understood as one’s animal soul. It may or may not refer to a specific individual animal.
Souls and identities of humans and nahuals are bound together; they share each other’s destinies. This is a very shamanic concept, and it exists in Eastern Hemisphere magic, too, or at least once did. In Hungarian witchcraft-trials, cats, dogs, hens, and frogs are perceived as doubles or second bodies of witches.
There are various definitions of nahual.
The nahual is a person who can transform, a shape-shifting witch or sorcerer. These practices were a major concern for Colonial priests in Mexico. In 1600, Fray Juan Bautista warned of native sorcerers who transformed into chickens, dogs, jaguars, owls, and weasels. The seventeenth-century priest Ruiz de Alarcón mentions specific cases and explains the power as deriving from Satanic compact. (The Spanish Inquisition was in full swing in the Western Hemisphere.) However, the concept is of indigenous origin. Satan didn’t exist in the Western Hemisphere before priests brought him.
The Aztec deity Tezcatlipoca, the divine sorcerer, was believed able to transform into a jaguar. Nahuals tend to possess specific forms; in other words not every nahual transforms into the same shapes. Not limited to animals, some nahuals may also be able to transform into natural forces, like lightning or (especially) whirlwinds. Some nahuals (this human kind) can also allegedly become invisible and thus transport themselves secretly from place to place.
Nahuals were feared and respected for their power. Although the stereotype, as filtered through the Inquisition, identifies them as malevolent independent practitioner sorcerers, they also served as protectors of their communities. During the Colonial Era, nahuals lead native resistance, which may explain some of the colonizers’ hostility toward them.
Secondly, the nahual may be the animal part of this dyad. Every human being has a nahual. You have a nahual but if you don’t know its form, then you’re only half a person, not operating at your full capacity. Under the Aztec Empire, a priest presided over a ritual on the fourth day following birth to determine a baby’s nahual and bind the relationship. This nahual serves as the person’s guide and protector, offering various psychic gifts and magical or physical powers. Each type of animal is capable of offering different gifts. Every Aztec deity had a nahual. If you share a nahual form with a deity, you share a bond with that deity, too.
If you didn’t receive your nahual as a child, it’s never too late. Another Aztec method is a do-it-yourself ritual:

1 Go into the woods alone and go to sleep.
2 Your nahual will either appear in your dreams or you will be confronted by your nahual when you awake.
3 Once the nahual is identified, you are obliged to enter into a life-long contract with it.
Furthermore, in Toltec and Mixtec traditions, the nahual is an individual’s totem or fateguardian, or perhaps the personification of one’s deepest psyche. Nahual also names the reciprocal relationship between a person and their animal double.
In Oaxaca, the traditional concept is related but subtly different. Naguals, as the word is most frequently spelled there, are a form of animal ally. Every one has one; their identity is disclosed via ritual. At its most superficial level, the nagual serves as a magical assistant, it can help you accomplish your life’s goals if you know how to work with it. However, the nagual may also be understood as a person’s other half; they mirror each other or share a soul, or perhaps the animal is the person’s second soul. Lives of human and animal are bound up together. They’re not identical, not interchangeable, one is not merely the transformed shape of the other but should one die, the other one will too.
No need for a priest here: parents usually determine a nagual’s identity shortly after a child’s birth. Identification of the nagual reveals crucial information about the child’s nature and required upbringing, not to mention taboos, which are very easy to break if you don’t know about them. There are various slightly different methods of determining a nagual. Here’s one:

1 Sprinkle ashes outside the place where a baby was born.
2 The first animal footprint captured by the ashes identifies the nagual and sometimes the baby’s name.

Owls
“Strega,” “strix,” “estrie”: these terms are synonyms for “witch,” although literally what they mean is “owl.” Owls were witches’ familiars from ancient Egypt, Rome, and Asia to modern Africa and Native America, with many stops in between. They represent divine yin: night, darkness, magic, and sacred lunar and feminine mysteries.
Owls are associated with wisdom, both conventional and secret, witchcraft, magic, sex, death, and birth. In the Eastern Hemisphere, owls were understood as emblematic of the uterus and as embodying the Great Mother’s power over life and death. Owls are sponsors of shamanism. They bestow gifts of clairvoyance and teach the arts of astral projection. They serve as guides to the realms of the spirits and the dead because, of course, owls can navigate the darkness.
There are approximately 135 living species in the order Strigiformes, varying in size from the six-inch elf owl to the three-foot long Great Gray Owl. Owls have a very distinctive shape. Only their silhouette may be required for identification. Compared to other birds, owls are fairly odd looking, resembling cats with wings. (If seated silently on a tree branch, it may be hard to immediately distinguish an owl from a cat, especially from a distance and in the dark.)
Their eyes are circular, evoking the full moon’s shape and glow. Some owls are even horned, or at least they appear to be.
Owls announce the night like crows herald the day. No bird or animal is more associated with night than owls.
Owls made a very early impression on people: in Les Trois Frères cave in France, home of the “Dancing Sorcerer,” an unmistakable outline of a pair of snowy owls together with their chicks is chipped from the rock face. Paleolithic “Eye-Goddesses” may represent stylized owls.
“Striges” was the Roman name for witch, typically understood malevolently. Owls were perceived as harbingers of doom, trouble, and death—in short bad news; however the Romans also had tremendous issues with women’s power. By the classical period, women were essentially property belonging to men: their husbands, fathers or brothers. Those women who rebelled, for instance those who joined the Bacchanalia, were punished. It was not a culture innately sympathetic to women’s sexual autonomy or to their sacred arts.
Strix came to be understood as a specific kind of witch: grotesque, sexually voracious, baby killing, female cannibals—all the negative stereotypes that still exist. This isn’t an integral part of the word’s meaning, however. Strix and its linguistic derivatives may also be understood to denote witchcraft’s positive attributes: knowledge of Earth’s powers, the ability to journey between realms, and acquisition of great wisdom, especially of crucial, secret topics.
Various sacred female spirits are profoundly identified with owls:


Owls are sacred to Athena. The small screech owl is her emblem and Homer describes Athena as “owlfaced.” It was popularly believed that Athena appeared on the battlefield as an owl during a Greek battle with the Persians.

Owls are identified with the Semitic wind spirit Lilith, whose name is cognate with “screech owl.” (There are those who deny that she appears in the Old Testament because the only clear reference to her may also be understood to literally mean “screech owl.”) Unlike most other formerly prominent Middle Eastern deities, Lilith, identified as Earth’s real first woman, survived to star in worldwide Jewish folklore, where she serves as the prototype of the witch.

Blodeuwedd, the Welsh magical woman, is formed from flowers. Since she is a magical being, she is immortal and cannot be punished by death for betraying and killing her husband Lleu; instead she is transformed into an owl, condemned to hunt alone at night for ever. The implication is that Blodeuwedd, as the embodiment of the lustful, fickle, secretive, plotting, murderous woman now displays her true form—that of a witch.

Owls fly with Tlazolteotl, Aztec witch-goddess with dominion over life, death, magic, and spiritual purification. Tlazolteotl cleans up sin like owls gobble up rats.

Marinette, Vodou sorceress lwa, manifests as a screech owl. Those whom she temporarily possesses demonstrate her presence by behaving like owls too.
Owls signify witchcraft. Whether this is understood positively, negatively or neutrally reflects cultural and individual perceptions of witchcraft. Owls famously serve as witches’ familiars and messengers and most frequently as the guise into which witches transform.


Some Siberian shamans’ coats are cut to resemble owl wings and tail.

Apuleius witnessed the successful transformation of the witch Pamphile into an owl in his novel, The Golden Ass.

In central and southern Africa, sorcerers are believed to fly at night like owls to steal food and valuables from their neighbors.

African witches who prefer not to shape-shift into hyenas are believed most likely to choose the shape of an owl instead.

Aztec nocturnal shape-shifting sorcerers were known as “tlacatecolotl,” “owl-men.”

The Aztecs associated owls with caves and mirrors—the same magical world of sorcery inhabited by sacred jaguars and presided over by the divine sorcerer, Tezcatlipoca.
Owls signify birth and women’s power, especially their reproductive and sexual powers:


In Ecuador and Peru, dating back at least as far as 300 BCE, owls representing the divine mother are favored decorative motifs on spindle whorls. The deity is usually depicted in a birthing position. (These spindles strung together are found in abundance at gravesites as well as other sites associated with death, perhaps as charms of rebirth.)

In parts of France and Wales, the hooting of owls doesn’t signify death but its opposite. It’s believed to foretell the birth of daughters.

In the nineteenth century, “owl” became slang for whore or harlot.

Pigs
Circe, the sacred sorceress, notoriously transformed men into swine; historically however, pigs are more usually identified with powerful goddesses and witches than with their transformed victims.
Perhaps no animal evokes as passionate a reaction as does the seemingly humble pig. Few cultures are traditionally neutral towards pigs; instead pigs tend to inspire either intense reverence or loathing. Some ancient cultures, the Celts for instance, perceived pigs as sacred, holy animals; other cultures understand pigs to be just the opposite. Most famously, pork is a tabooed food for Muslims and Jews. Perhaps in reaction, in certain parts of medieval Christendom, to eat pork developed almost a sacramental quality: one could prove one were a good Christian by eating pork with gusto.
So some cultures perceive pigs as bad, while others see them as good. It seems so clear, doesn’t it—almost dualist? Well, when one approaches the sacred, nothing is ever that simple, and perceptions of pigs are no exception.
Prohibitions against consuming pork in what is now considered the Middle Eastern region pre-date both Islam and Judaism. The ancient Egyptians also refrained from eating pork under religious taboo, perhaps because of its associations with the dangerous sorcerer deity Set. Swineherds occupied the absolute lowest niche in ancient Egyptian society—the equivalent of India’s Untouchable caste. (Although one wonders, if no one was eating pork, why there were any swineherds at all?)
There is a belief common to many anthropologists and scholars of religion that intense food taboos virtually always arise only when something is too holy to be eaten. In general, tabooed meat derives from an animal that is (or once was) a culturally sacred totem. In plain English, the forbidden animal was once a holy beast; too sacred to eat, often too sacred to even discuss freely, so that later generations may no longer recall or understand the true original impetus for the prohibition.
Conversely, in Christian areas, pigs were simultaneously perceived as lucky and treated with contempt. Today, if someone is described as a “pig” virtually anywhere on Earth, not only in Jewish or Muslim areas, it’s almost inevitably meant as an insult.

Pigs are frequently used to represent the epitome of sloth, greed, carnal pleasures, and slovenliness.

In medieval Christian art, the pig symbolized gross materiality and the inherent bestial nature that humans should strive to rise above.

In Buddhist iconography, the pig epitomizes desire in all its forms.
People first domesticated pigs some five to seven thousand years ago, however, like cats, there are only slight distinctions between wild and domestic pigs. Abandoned domestic pigs return to a feral state easily and are notoriously self-sufficient. The term “boar” is used to refer to the wild European pig once widespread throughout the forests of Europe and the British Isles and believed to be the ancestor of modern domestic pigs. “Boar” also names the adult male domestic pig. (The female pig is a sow.) To avoid confusion, the term “pig” is used in this section to refer to the entire porcine family, wild, feral, and domestic, unless specified otherwise.
Pigs, in some ways, occupy a sacred niche similar to that of the bear, an animal whose sacredness is also considered too potent to even discuss. Like bears, pigs are associated with dangerous but fiercely devoted mothers, lunar deities, herbalism and root magic, and Earth’s gestation during winter. Bears and pigs also featured in similar sacrificial rituals and practices. Male and female bears are also called boars and sows respectively.
Pigs are highly intelligent. Today they are frequently kept as pets and many people claim that pigs are more easily trained than dogs. However, pigs are also notoriously stubborn and strong-minded. (As they can grow to be quite formidable in size, it may also be more physically challenging to persuade a recalcitrant pig to change its mind.) They are potentially destructive creatures. They do not graze like sheep; instead, they famously root, overturning the Earth in search of the delicacies they enjoy. (It is believed that pigs introduced humans to the pleasures of truffles; from a folkloric or mythic perspective, pigs are associated with mushrooms in general, and with Amanita muscaria in particular.)
Pigs are large, fierce, and stubborn. Although pigs are not predatory—they do not seek to harm humans—neither will they back down from a fight. Once they are in an aggressive mode, they may even pursue a fleeing person. A fast, angry, stubborn pig is a dangerous one. The most formidable pig ancient people would have met would have been a mother pig.
Wild boars form groups called “sounders.” Each sounder has approximately 20 members, although some have considerably more. Each sounder consists of several sows with their offspring; adult males only join during the breeding season but otherwise live alone. Sows are quite capable of providing for their piglets as well as protecting them independently or in conjunction with other sows.
Ancient people thus identified sows with the ideal of the fierce mother who protects her young no matter what, similar to the bear or crocodile mother. Pigs became identified with the goddesses who also epitomized the ideal of the aggressive, fervently devoted mother.
Pigs do not deserve their reputation as filthy, slovenly creatures. They lack sweat glands and thus find relief by lingering in water or wallowing in mud when they are hot. (According to one legend, the healing properties of the thermal waters of the city of Bath were discovered after pigs were observed wallowing in its mud.)
For a variety of reasons including this affinity for water, their propensity for “rooting” in Earth in the manner of a root-worker or herbalist, their identification with fecund but fierce mothers, and, not least, because of their lunar crescent-shaped tusks, ancient people identified pigs (even male ones, because of those tusks) with the female principle, with the moon, witchcraft, and with powerful magically potent female deities.


No creature is as identified with Earth’s pleasures, gifts, and comforts as is the pig.

No creature is as identified with the Corn Mother as is the pig.
However, as Earth’s pleasures became increasingly suspect, the pig’s reputation sank. Part of this ambivalence toward pigs may stem from the profound role pigs once played in pagan ritual; part may derive from the roots of why pigs played that role: the powerful identification of pigs with Earth’s bounties as well as with fierce, fertile female power.
Pigs were associated with sex, birth, new life, regeneration, fruitfulness, abundance, prosperity, divination, and love. Pigs also epitomize male and female reproductive sexuality. Sows are emblematic of fecundity. In Italy, as well as those areas once dominated by Rome, the word “pig” was used as a nickname for the vulva, similar to the modern usage of “pussy.” Small gold and silver pig-shaped charms were worn as amulets by Roman women to ensure fertility, and cowrie shells were frequently called “pig shells” in Europe, not because of their resemblance to swine but because of their resemblance to the vulva.
Pigs are associated with almost as many deities as are snakes. In fact, the deity whom pigs are most closely identified with today, Demeter, has two sacred creatures: pigs and snakes.


The Eleusinian Mysteries, dedicated to Demeter and her daughter Persephone, was the most significant spiritual ritual in ancient Greece. Its ceremonies were initiated by the sacrifice of a pig.

When Persephone is kidnapped, only two voluntarily assist Demeter: the young swineherd who is the only eye-witness to the abduction (some of his pigs fall into the chasm that opens up to swallow Persephone) and the witch-deity Hecate, whose sacred animals also include snakes and pigs.

The Eleusinian Mysteries were not Demeter’s only sacred rites. She also presided over the Thesmophoria, a women’s annual autumnal mystery whose rituals involved both her sacred creatures, pigs and snakes. Because it was a “mystery” cult festival few details survive, however this much is known: during the ritual, pigs, cakes, and pine branches were thrown into underground chasms (or vaults), which were then covered so that they were contained within Earth. Snakes lived in these grottoes as guardians: they may have consumed much of the offerings. During the next year’s festival, the decayed remains were removed and incorporated into ritual. This ritual may have reproduced Persephone’s descent into the Underworld and her ultimate emergence.

Ceres, the Italian Corn Mother, eventually became profoundly identified with Demeter. Pigs were kept in underground enclosures of her shrines. Those seeking healing dreams were invited to sleep among the pigs. (See below for more information regarding pigs and dreams.) Silver and gold pigs were among Ceres’ votive offerings.

Artemis’ shrines were often decorated with boars’ heads or with their tusks. She famously sent the Calydonian boar to ravage the land as punishment when a king neglected to offer her what she perceived as her share of first fruits of his hunt.

Among the deities depicted as riding pigs are Arduinna, Baba γaga, Demeter, Freya, and Isis. Freya and Baba γaga will eventually come to be explicitly identified as witches.

Cerridwen, the Welsh witch-goddess, is sometimes called “The White Sow.” Pigs are her sacred creatures.

Among Brigid’s many animal familiars is one known as the King of the Swine.

The ancient Celtic deities known as hags are frequently described as having boar’s tusks.

Sometimes Hecate is depicted as having three heads facing in three different directions: although there are variations, a pig is almost inevitably among one of the three creatures. Hecate also occasionally manifests in the form of a black sow, particularly when she is in an aggressive mood.

Ezili Dantor is the Haitian lwa who epitomizes the aggressively independent, self-sufficient mother. Her sacred animal is the black pig, and she is powerfully identified with the small black self-sufficient pigs that once ran wild through Haiti and upon which rural Haitians depended for food and income. Those pigs, like Ezili Dantor, represented economic independence: as demonstration of their economic importance, the same word was used to name these pigs and banks. (In the 1980s, these pigs were eradicated and replaced by higher maintenance white pigs during a United States-sponsored program that remains controversial.)
Pigs, and specifically pig-sties, are also identified with oracular powers. An ancient method of incubating a prophetic dream was to sleep in a pig-sty. Although it seems humorous today because pigs are now commonly perceived as silly, lazy, useless, slovenly creatures, this method was once taken very seriously and is common to German, Italian, Romanian, Romany, Scandinavian, and Slavic traditions.

The one requirement is that the pen must contain at least one sow with her young.

It was once a German custom to nap in the sty on either Christmas Day or the day of the solstice to obtain lucky dreams and good fortune.

In Italian tradition, the ritual may be accompanied by invocations to St Anthony for maximum effectiveness.
White sows have particularly powerful lunar associations. The porcine profile can change dramatically—expanding and slimming down—in response to diet, pregnancy, and birth. This rhythmic shape-shifting was perceived as similar to that of the moon. Black sows are particularly identified with witchcraft. Black pigs, particularly small, fast ones, were often understood to be transformed witches engaged in spell-casting missions. Witch-hunters accused witches of offering black pigs to Satan.
See also Bears, Snakes, Transformation; BOTANICALS: Amanita Muscaria or Fly Agaric; CALENDAR: Yule; ERGOT; DIVINE WITCH: Artemis; Baba Yaga; Cerridwen; Circe; Freya; Hecate; Isis; Set; HAG; HORNED ONE: Chimneysweep.

Rabbits
The animal once most associated with European witchcraft wasn’t the cat, which for a long time was rare, but rabbits. Rabbits serve as witches’ familiars and messengers and are the form into which European witches once most frequently transformed.
Most rabbit and hare species graze at twilight. Little brown rabbits camouflage well; they suddenly appear and disappear, as if by magic. Rabbits’ defenses are limited to speed, brains, and fecundity. Rabbits survive and thrive because they can reproduce faster than they can be killed. No surprise, then, that the rabbit is the fertility animal extraordinaire. They are associated with sex, reproduction, and the moon. Classic tricksters, they represent success, survival and joy despite all odds, which, after all, is the primal stimulus for magic and witchcraft.
The gestation period of a rabbit is 28 days, one lunar month, akin to a woman’s menstrual cycle. The Egyptian word for “rabbit” translates as “the opener” and also indicated “period” in both the calendar and menstrual sense. Sacred rabbits, female and male, had dominion over women’s reproductive abilities. Vestiges of that pagan belief survive in the bunny that delivers eggs, emblematic of birth, at Easter, the Christian holiday that closely corresponds to the Vernal Equinox, the time of Earth’s rebirth. Easter bunnies are most frequently depicted as sweet, juvenile purveyors of candy eggs; the hares they’re based upon were understood as wild, raucous, very phallically empowered magical creatures. The consort of the pagan goddess Ostara, whose name is recalled in “Easter,” was a man-sized rabbit. (See CALENDAR: Easter; Ostara.)
Around the world, rabbits are associated with the moon, the celestial body ruling magic, romance, and reproduction. In many areas there’s a rabbit in the moon, not a man.
Throughout Central America, the moon was uniformly associated with rabbits. Classical Mayan imagery depicts a beautiful, youthful woman sitting on a crescent moon, cuddling a rabbit in her arms. The Yucatan goddess Ix Chel, lunar deity of women, magic, storms, and spinning has a consort who manifests in the form of a man-sized rabbit.
In China, rabbits are associated with witchcraft, sorcery, and alchemy. According to Chinese myth, a rabbit keeps the Moon Lady company in her lonely palace—not just any old rabbit though: the rabbit on the moon is an alchemist rabbit, seen pounding out the secret elixir of immortality with his mortar and pestle.
Rabbits are trickster spirits in Africa and now, via transplantation, in the United States as well, the classic examples being Brer Rabbit and Bugs Bunny. They represent rabbits’ powers of rebirth and regeneration: no matter how much trouble Brer and Bugs get into, even when doom seems certain, they always miraculously slip out of trouble (or resurrect) to survive and thrive. They are magical creatures, too smart for their own good; their curiosity, quest for knowledge, and inability to mind their own business inevitably leads them into trouble, which they always then manage to remedy and survive. They are somewhat dangerous creatures, too, reminding us that tricksters aren’t just cuddly bunnies but typically also possess a sharper edge that can lead others into trouble, as well as extricating them again.
Historically, when English witches transformed into animals, it was most frequently a rabbit. Unlike on the European mainland where wolves were the most common form, there’s little British tradition of werewolves. Christina Hole, author of Witchcraft in England, suggests that this powerful identification with rabbits occurred when wolves were eradicated in the British Isles.
The British Isles are filled with tales of rabbits serving as witches’ alter egos:


According to legend, Anne Boleyn haunts her parish church in the form of a hare.

Isobel Gowdie, perhaps Scotland’s most famous witch (for reasons unknown, she volunteered her witchcraft confession), claimed that she traveled in the form of a hare.

On the Isle of Man, gorse was set on fire on May Day to flush out the witches, believed to take the form of hares on that day.

In Ireland, rabbits found amid cows on May Day were once summarily killed because they were believed to be shape-shifting witches with wicked designs on cattle, milk, and butter.
Even people with little knowledge or interest in magic spells are familiar with the concept of the lucky rabbit’s foot, typically carried as a gambling charm. “Lucky for whom?” asks the old joke. “It wasn’t lucky for the rabbit!” Indeed. This “charm’s” origins derive from magical witchhunting techniques similar to those advocating slaughtering rabbits on May Day.
The custom of carrying a rabbit’s foot charm is now associated with gambling luck but that wasn’t the original intent. The magical rabbit’s foot isn’t some ancient spell but is of relatively recent origin. Although popularly associated with African-American conjure traditions, the charm has British roots. Similar charms were used in nineteenth-century England to protect against witchcraft.
Not just any old rabbit’s foot would do. Slightly different versions of this spell exist, some more difficult than others, but to turn the trick, it originally had to be the left foot of a rabbit killed in a cemetery at midnight, sometimes on a Friday or a Friday the 13th; on a dark moon Friday or any dark moon. Some American versions specify that it must be an African-American cemetery, which may indicate something about the spell-casters beliefs about witchcraft. Other versions stipulate that the rabbit must be killed with a silver bullet. (Silver is the moon’s metal.)
There are various ways of understanding this spell:


The rabbit may be understood as a transformed witch, who is now destroyed and her power stolen for the killer’s personal use.

It may be understood as similar to traditions like nailing bats or owls to barn doors to scare away witches; an announcement that what can be done to the crucified witch can be done to others.

It’s possible that the spell-caster’s goal was to obtain a rabbit familiar or even spiritual possession of the witch in rabbit form.

The rabbit may also be understood as a revenant or powerful ghost; caught outside its grave, it’s now finally really dead and unable to rise and walk again.

Scorpions
Scorpions’ profound association with witchcraft and magic is reflected in the astrological sign of Scorpio, the sign with dominion over magic, death, and sex. Scorpio rules the reproductive organs.
Astrological associations of scorpions with sex, death, birth, and rebirth derive from ancient Egyptian mythology. The Egyptians both feared and venerated scorpions. The power to harm is the power to heal and vice versa. Scorpions were potentially deadly, as were scorpion deities, who were worthy of fear and respect but also invoked for protection against scorpions and other deadly dangers. Scorpion-power may be understood as witchcraft; the ability to channel potentially dangerous energy positively or negatively as desired, and especially the ability to heal and over-ride damage caused by others—spiritual and magical poisons as well as physical ones.
Scorpion goddess Serket (also spelled Selket or Serqet) is among the Egyptian deities most associated with magic and witchcraft. Serket is usually depicted as a beautiful woman wearing a scorpion on her head (she also manifests in crocodile, cobra, and lion form). Serket travels in Isis’ entourage. She is a protective spirit who is among the four primary deities (alongside Neith, Isis and her sister Nephthys) guarding entombed coffins. Serket’s title “Mistress of the Beautiful House” is a euphemistic expression for that ancient funeral parlor, the embalming pavilion. Serket is invoked in many spells to protect and heal poisonous bites. She served as matron of those practitioners of magical medicine who specialized in such cases.
The scorpion-girls who serve as Isis’ escorts when she is in hiding with baby Horus may be understood as witches. When the Egyptian culture-hero Horus grows up, he married one of them.
Scorpions in Chinese magic are symbolic of great harm and danger, as well as of the power and ability to counteract them.
The mating habits of scorpions are similar to those of spiders, their relatives. The male scorpion is smaller than the female. Sex begins with a copulation dance, tails entwined. At the conclusion of the act, the male, who apparently knows what’s coming, usually tries to escape; the female, for her part, tries to devour him as her post-coital snack. (She’s allegedly successful only 10 percent of the time.)
Scorpions have a long pregnancy even by human standards: a year and a half before delivery. A long-lived species (15–25 years) scorpions don’t reach sexual maturity until they hit the magic number seven. Scorpions are fierce, devoted mothers; after the birth, baby scorpions stay safe by riding on their mother’s back for two to six weeks.

Skin-walkers
The term “skin-walker” refers to the same concept as those nahuals (sorcerers) who are able to change forms. It is the English translation of a Navajo term. Although traditional Navajo culture is shamanic, with a long tradition of magical healing and positive magical practices, the word “witchcraft” in Navajo is virtually always understood as malevolent. Use of the word “witch” almost always refers to a shaman gone bad or to a corrupt sorcerer or some sort of malevolent practitioner of magic. Traditional Navajo philosophy prizes harmony and places emphasis on the welfare of the community. Witches are understood to place individual desires above those of the group.
Navajo witches most frequently transform into wolves or coyotes. They may be distinguished from a regular wolf or coyote, at least by someone who is familiar with the genuine article:


Transformed wolves and coyotes may be unusually large.

They carry their tails in a different manner than real animals do.

They may betray themselves by wearing or carrying something associated with humans, like jewelry.

Snakes
Snakes are so central to witchcraft, spirituality and magic that a thousand-page book could be devoted to that topic alone. Of necessity, this has been compressed. What follows is only a brief synopsis, the proverbial tip of the iceberg.
Snakes play a profound role in witchcraft as familiars, companions, teachers and transmitters of magic, guardians of knowledge, and as witches themselves, transformed or otherwise. A Ukrainian word for “witch” is synonymous with “snake.” This may be understood as the stealthy dangerous snake in the grass or as a mysterious, powerful, holy being, however you choose.
Snakes are symbolic of birth, life, immortality, rebirth, fertility, sexuality, health, and wisdom—especially women’s wisdom. Snake venom potentially kills or cures, as do shamans, healers, and witches.
Hibernating snakes burrow within Earth; emerging in the spring, they’re believed to carry Earth’s secrets as well as her sacred generative powers with them. No animal is as identified with the powers of Earth or Great Mother Goddesses as the snake.
Snakes are emblematic of sex, generative power, and childbirth. Snakes unite the male and female generative principles as surely as does the pestle in the mortar. Snakes are understood as animals that resemble both female and male genitalia. Male resemblance is obvious—how many blues singers boast of being “crawling king snakes” or similar serpentine forces? No need to make the comparison any clearer; that’s a metaphor anyone can figure out. The resemblance to female genitalia is more subtle. The snake possesses an unhinged jaw that enables it to open up so wide that it can swallow prey bigger than its head. This was understood to symbolize the vagina, which magically opens to disgorge a baby.
Although snakes are associated with healing in general, they are particularly associated with women’s reproductive health. In Rome, it was believed that contact with snakes improved a woman’s health. It’s believed in many places that snakes actually taught women the techniques of childbirth, undulating their bodies in demonstration. Snakes are literally brought into the birthing chamber in areas as far apart as China and Arabia, sometimes for the express purpose of entrancing the laboring woman for an easier, speedier, safer birth. If snakes aren’t available or convenient, belly dancers substitute, especially snake or sword dancers, shimmying with sinuous movements to help lead the birthing mother in the childbirth dance.
Neolithic pottery from near Kiev shows snakes surrounding a pregnant womb, protecting the treasure within. Horned snakes were emblems of fertility, regeneration, and healing in Celtic Europe.
It has been suggested that the identification of women with snakes reveals women’s attachment to Earth, to Earthly (material) things and powers—an attachment that prevents them from attaining salvation and spiritual freedom. And of course, the snake most people are familiar with is the one that tempted Eve. Based on this story, snakes eventually became identified with Satan, known as that old serpent. (Other versions prefer a female snake; identifying it with a diabolized Lilith, the former childbirth spirit who shed her skin to become the Queen of Demons.)
Because the Bible is often used to rationalize violence toward witches and witchcraft as well as hostility toward snakes, it’s worth taking a brief second look. The Bible has famously been interpreted and reinterpreted to suit many purposes. The word that characterizes attitudes towards snakes in the Old Testament isn’t horror or disgust but ambivalence. The snake’s appearance in the Garden of Eden isn’t its only appearance: snakes are a common motif in the Jewish Bible.
Various versions of the Adam and Eve tale posit a different understanding. Ancient Gnostics, who understood material Earth to be created by a deceptive usurping demi-god, not the true Creator, perceived that the snake was trying to warn and save Eve. In some versions, the snake may even be the Creator deity. A modern Hasidic take on the story suggests the snake ultimately did us a favor; no potential for human growth exists in Paradise. It’s like the womb; no matter how comfortable you are, ultimately you have to get out and start living if you want to survive.
The most famous serpentine appearances include the following:
The Garden of Eden (Genesis 3: 1-24): However else you may interpret the story, one thing is true: the snake never lies to Eve. The snake speaks directly to Eve; this was once understood to mean she was more vulnerable to sin and temptation. It may also reflect women’s ancient spiritual association with snakes. Eve is punished with painful childbirth—the once cordial relationship between people and snakes is broken. This may be understood as observation of the results of snake-spirituality suppression, rather than as something inevitable or even desirable. If the relationship is sundered and if snakes symbolize women’s primal wisdom, the end result will be that women lack the information required for easier, less painful labor.
Rods before Pharaoh (Exodus 7: 8-13): Rods are magically turned into snakes, a trick quickly reproduced by the Egyptian magicians, because, as every anthropology book points out, this common trick is still played by Indian snake charmers. Of course, the real magic comes when Aaron’s rod-turned snake eats the others. This snake is a dangerous, mysterious but sacred sign from God, who may be understood in this context to be affiliated with snakes not opposed to them.
Fiery serpent of the desert (Numbers 21: 5-9): In a bit of prophylactic magic, when the children of Israel are plagued by snakes in the desert, the Lord instructs Moses to create a brazen serpent, indicating the presence of magical metal workers. Again, the snake is not identified with any evil being or impulse but with safety, protection and with God himself.
Any identification of the snake in the Garden of Eden with Satan was not explicit until the first century after Christ. That connection was initially established in a number of first-century texts, either entirely Christian in origin or influenced by Christianity.
Hezekiah breaks fiery serpent Nehushtan (2 Kings 18: 1-4): The brazen serpent was preserved and named (Nehushtan, a name with linguistic roots similar to words for “magic”) and eventually moved into the Jerusalem Temple, where it remained for 500 years as an official cult object before it was pulverized in a fit of religious reformation.
That snakes would be associated with the biblical Creator shouldn’t be surprising; snakes play the role of Creators themselves in sacred stories from around the world.


In China, the goddess Nu Kua, half-snake, half-woman molds humans from clay and puts the universe into order.

The Pelasgians were early inhabitants of Greece. According to their creation myth, in the beginning Eurynome, the All-Goddess, rose from Chaos. Dividing the sky from the waters, she began to dance on the waves. Out of the wind, Eurynome created a huge serpent and named him Ophion. They danced together, then Ophion coiled about her and she conceived. Eurynome transformed into a dove and brooded over the waters. She laid the universal egg and bade Ophion coil around it until it was time to hatch. Out of that egg emerged all of Creation, Earth’s planets and all living creatures, all children of a goddess and a primordial snake.

Wunekau, solar deity from New Guinea, is the Creator of the universe. Still actively involved with creation, Wunekau directs winds to make women conceive. Among manifestations of his divine presence is a giant snake.
Snakes are guardians of Earth’s hidden treasures and secret knowledge. Snakes protect all that is most valuable and control its distribution—wisdom, material wealth and treasure, health, and children.
Snakes are associated with the water element throughout much of the world. They are perceived as rain bringers and famously appear to people all over Earth in the form of the rainbow. There are some 50 species of sea snakes, almost all of which are venomous. Sea snakes aren’t restricted to the ocean. Some live in rivers, others in swamps or lakes.
According to Carl Jung, snakes represent the underworld, primordial matter, the dark, the unknown, the primal, the Earthy, the watery, the elemental.
Snakes have a long association with worship of the Great Mother, especially in Mediterranean region. The Egyptian hieroglyph for what would be understood today as “goddess” is expressed by the image of a cobra. Unke, the German snake guardian, is depicted as either a crowned half-fairy/half-snake or as an entire snake wearing a crown and carrying keys. She presides over a family of snake spirits, the Unken (plural), who watch over babies in their cradle. It was considered unlucky to kill or injure a snake as this might result in loss of prosperity or the death of a child.
Once holy, snake spirits would eventually become demonized just like real snakes: the Libyan snake goddess Lamia was transformed into a strix, a witch-like fiend thirsting for children’s blood in classical Greek mythology. Semitic snake spirit Lilith later emerges as a baby-killing vampire spirit, the Queen of Demons.
These are just a few deities associated with snakes. There are many more:


Asklepios and his daughter Hygeia (Greek) Athena (Libyan, Greek)

Damballah and Ayida Wedo (Damballah, the white snake, is the most ancient member of the Vodou pantheon; his wife Ayida Wedo is the rainbow serpent)

Demeter (Greek)

Ezili Freda Dahomey (Vodou)

Fauna (Roman)

Hecate (Anatolian)

Hera (Greek)

Hermes (Greek)

Isis (Egyptian)

Ix Tub Tun (Mayan snake goddess; spits rain and precious stones)

Juno (Roman)

Kadesh (Semitic spirit of sexuality, beloved in ancient Egypt)

Kebechet (Egyptian: Anubis’ daughter manifest in snake form; she is the purifying libation of water that revitalizes the dead)

Lilith (Semitic)

Mami Waters (West and Central African)

Medusa (Libyan, Greek )

The Nagas (Indian)

Ogun (West African)

Persephone (Greek )

Quetzalcoatl (Aztec “plumed serpent”)

Rosmerta (Gaul)

Serapis (Hellenic Egypt)

Simbi (Congolese guardian of fountains, marshes, and fresh water)

Susanowo (Japanese)

Wadjet (Egyptian)
Snakes are emblems of death. Etruscan Hades grasps a snake while his wife, Persephone, has serpents entwined in her hair—as does that other death deity, Hecate. Shiva and Kali, India’s deities of sex, birth, magic, and death are also both ornamented with snakes.
Snakes are emblems of immortality too. Snakes’ characteristic shedding of skin is emblematic of regeneration, rebirth, immortality, and restoration to health. They ensure that cycles of life continue, that generative powers can be renewed, revived and remain undiminished. Snakes are regarded as stimulators and guardians of life energy.
Snakes are emblems of prophecy: from the earliest times snakes have been connected to oracular power and divination. The women who served as the mouthpiece for the Oracle of Delphi (in truth, they were the oracle) are typically called “priestesses” in English. The actual term for them, however, was “pythia” or “pythoness”; they were understood as snake women. Originally Delphi was a snake shrine dedicated to the Earth Mother. When Apollo violently installed himself as the oracular spirit in charge, the snakes were killed. However, even afterwards, it was reputed that the vapors that stimulated prophesy emanated from the snake corpses left to rot under Apollo’s shrine so, dead or alive, the snakes remained responsible for the oracle.
According to ancient European tradition, if a snake bit someone, they would inherit the ability to prophesize. Vestiges of this belief survive in the snake-handlers of the Holiness tradition of the Appalachian Mountains.
Snakes are also emblems of healing, an identification that remains today. The symbol of the medical profession is the caduceus, Hermes’ double-snake entwined staff. (The emblem is often identified with Asklepios, the Sacred Physician, however his staff only has one snake.) Snakes are the original healing animals. They lived in the very first official hospitals, the temples of Asklepios, and were believed integral to the healing process. The appearance of a snake to an ill person, whether in person or in dreams or visions, was understood as an omen of healing and renewal, not death.
The sangoma are traditional Southern African healers, frequently female. Their medical career is often initiated when they are called by an ancestral spirit, usually during puberty. This calling manifests in various ways; frequently the ancestor visits in a dream during an illness. The person must then seek out an experienced sangoma for training. Resisting the call leads to illness and breakdown. Dreams vary in content; however, according to those individuals who’ve chosen to share their experiences, they virtually always somehow involve a snake.
The practice of handling poisonous snakes in spiritual ritual is found independently throughout Asia, Africa, Europe, and North America. Snake-charming, which now most frequently relies on illusion, is a derivative of this magicalspiritual art. Genuine snake handling survives in pockets around the world, most famously among the Hopi Snake Dancers of Arizona, and perhaps most surprisingly in the Christian Holiness tradition of the Appalachian Mountains.
Snakes serve as personal guardian spirits and the equivalent of household familiars. Zaltys, the Baltic grass snake, was revered and kept as a living guardian in shrines. Maintaining Zaltys in one’s home, in the form of a grass snake, was believed to bring blessings and good fortune. The snake was kept under the marital bed or near the home stove. In Baltic regions snakes were understood to radiate life energy and so were never killed.
Polish bishop Jan Lasicki, writing in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, reported that once a year, domestic snakes were charmed out of their hiding places by pagan priests and offered the finest food to eat, in an attempt to guarantee a prosperous new year.
Dragons, also identified with witchcraft, are a subcategory of snakes.

Hecate drives a chariot drawn by dragons.

When the Norse hero Sigurd tastes dragon’s blood in The Volsung Saga, he immediately understands the speech of birds—luckily for him, as this ability will save his life.

Dragons symbolize paganism. When Saint George and other knights slay dragons, they are emphasizing Christian victory over other traditions.

Dragons symbolize menstruation. When Saint George and other knights slay dragons, well…
In Japan snake familiars are considered similar to fox spirits. However, while fox spirits run in packs, typically there’s only one snake spirit per household. The snake lives in a pot in the kitchen and is fed on the family’s food plus offerings of saké. The snake is believed sent out to cause harm to others. The chief symptom of snake-spirit attack is sudden, severe pain in the joints.

Spiders
Arachne was a master weaver of fabrics and tapestries at Colophon in Lydia, the daughter of a man involved with the trade in the rare purple dye then reserved for royalty and the spiritual elite. There are various versions of Arachne’s story but somehow she ended up in a tapestrymaking contest with the goddess Athena, credited by the Greeks as the inventor of weaving. Both wove tapestries; the general population was permitted to choose the winner. Arachne won, with a cynical tapestry mocking the lifestyles of the gods, especially Athena’s father Zeus’ prodigious love life. Daddy’s girl was enraged. Exactly what happened next depends on the version of the story:


Athena transformed Arachne into a spider

Athena hanged Arachne and then changed her into a spider

Arachne hung herself but Athena, out of pity, changed the rope into a web and Arachne into a spider, the ultimate weaver.
Spiders are now classified as belonging to the Arachnid family, as are scorpions, emblems of Egyptian goddesses. The word “spider” derives from the Old English spinan, “to spin.” It is thus closely related to “spinster,” which although given the colloquial meaning “old maid” with the added implication of being dowdy and undesirable, technically refers to an unwed, independent woman. Spinning was once not only an occupation and art associated with women but a spiritual and magical tradition. Spiders are sponsors of spinning and emblems of witchcraft.
There are perhaps 100,000 species of spiders on Earth. They are a unique species; only spiders create webs from within their bodies. The web is the spider’s home and the manner in which she captures her prey. On the outside of her body, spiders possess four or six (depending upon species) spinnerets. Liquid spurts from these teat-like organs, which solidifies almost immediately on contact with air, forming spider silk. Spiders can employ one or more spinnerets as desired. Seven different types of spider silk exist; all spiders can produce three while some can produce more. The tensile strength of spider thread is second only to fused quartz.
Spider webs can be beautiful. Dew shining on spider webs in the sun resembles sparkling diamonds. Complex, artistic webs are spun by female spiders. Designs are maze-like and may have inspired labyrinths and mandalas. Spiders inspired the art of spinning; magical theory says spiders themselves taught women how to spin.
True artists, spiders spin webs out of their own bodies, in similar fashion to the way women birth babies and produce milk.
“‘Come into my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly…” All spiders are predatory. They suck their victims empty of fluids, leaving nothing but dead husks behind, in the manner of vampires or succubi. Various species, not only the black widow, cannibalize their mates and children.
Spiders terrify many people, disproportionately to their ability to harm. Arachnophobia is the scientific name for fear of spiders (and scorpions, too, which are also arachnids).
This primal, irrational fear is evoked in the gigantic threatening spiders in J. R. R. Tolkien’s Return of the King and J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Shelob, the female spider in the Tolkien book, particularly evokes some kind of terrible, primal, chthonic goddess. Her hunger and ferocity transform her into a veritable guardian spirit, albeit not for Frodo.
Black Widows truly are dangerous. Once you know what they look like, they’re hard to mistake: shiny, glossy black spiders, the females wear a red hour-glass shape on their underside. Their color scheme and venomous potential, combined with their conjugal habits, make Black Widows the spiders most identified with witchcraft, their name synonymous with femmes fatales.
Mating habits of spiders are pretty unique, too. Their mating terrifies and fascinates people, often especially men. Having consummated the relationship, the female spider, usually the larger of the two, often attempts to consume the male, quite frequently succeeding. (There’s one male who won’t kiss and tell!)
Spiders have been used as metaphors for the dangers of sex, both literally and also in terms of sex being the trap that leads to the death of men’s immortal souls.
Because spiders give birth to huge quantities of young at one time they are also ancient emblems of fertility and female generative power. Spiders are associated with birth, death, sex, immortality, destiny, and the acquisition of wealth, power, and magical knowledge. Because spiders (and spinners) are understood to spin and cut the threads of life, many deities take the form of spiders or are allied with them.
Spider goddesses include:


Askhe-tanne-mat, the Ainu spider goddess, manifests as a long-fingered woman who guides babies through the birth canal.

Female spider deities are heroines of Native North American spirituality; variously known by names like Spider Woman or Old Spider Grandmother they rescue people from disaster, sponsor culture heroes and perform miraculous actions like providing people with fire.

Morticia of the Addams Family, whose tight black spider gown is intended to evoke the magical Black Widow (although Morticia verges on the saintly!)
In Hungarian tradition, spider webs are the gossamer thread spun by fairies. In Germanic areas, spider webs are considered threads from Mother Holle’s spindle. (See DIVINE WITCH: Hulda.)
Chinese mythology looks at both sides of the spider controversy. Spiders are sacred to the saintly Weaving Maiden, the romantic guardian spirit of young women. On the other hand, female spiders, bored with male spiders and seeking to up the ante, transform into the shape of beautiful women. Men, Chinese folklore warns, should you meet a mysterious, seductive maiden, be on your guard! She may be a spider transformed into a girl, out to ensnare you.
Spiders show up in classic Halloween iconography; fake spider webs decorate haunted Halloween houses. Halloween witch costumes frequently may as well be spider costumes. (Several years ago a witch dress named Spiderella was popular.) A spider-witch plays the role of the Weird Sisters in Akira Kurosawa’s film interpretation of Macbeth, Throne of Blood.
Perhaps in remembrance of their former sacred status, it’s believed unlucky to kill spiders. To do so is to risk losing wealth and spiritual protection.
See also WOMEN’S MYSTERIES: Spinning. Transformation

Transformation
There are various forms of transformation:


Witches and sorcerers willingly transform into animals and back to their original form.

Animals willingly transform into people and back to their original form.

People are victimized, most frequently by witches, and forcibly transformed into animals. Under a spell, they lack the power to transform back at will but need magical assistance.
Werewolf literally means “man-wolf,” however there is some evidence that the word was originally used to indicate “one who knows how to change form.” That said, that word’s historical nuances and implication have cause werewolves to be unique phenomena, somewhat different from standard shape-shifting. Werewolves are discussed in depth together with wolves. See Wolves and Werewolves.

People Who Transform Willingly into Animals
Witches are famed worldwide for the ability to transform into different shapes at will, in popular terminology: shape-shifting. According to story, legend, and myth, this ability is accomplished literally. Whether witches would agree with that assessment is subject to lots of debate. In general, stories about shape-shifting are told by observers, not the witches. Of course, those very same stories frequently describe witches as secretive and evasive, so what can you expect?
According to many witches, channeling the spirit of an animal is what is significant rather than literal transformation. Others would suggest that transformation is real but occurs on a shamanic or dream level.
Whether transformation is literal, soul-journey or something else, real witches consider their magical abilities to be sacred and private and will, thus, rarely brag. How, then, do other people know of these transformations? Easy, legend says: they’ve been witnessed or even experienced. Although countless stories recount tales of transformation, there are basically only a few themes:


The story-teller actually witnessed the process of transformation. Thus Lucius Apuleius saw the witch Pamphile change into an owl (a strix or strega).

Having witnessed the transformation or otherwise picked up some fragments of magical knowledge, the story-teller attempts to copy the witch and transform, too. Sometimes it works, although usually not too well—as with Lucius Apuleius, who only manages to turn himself into an ass.

In the most common theme, an animal, initially understood as a real animal, is somehow injured. Sometimes a human is then found to have an identical injury, betraying her as a witch.

Sometimes an injured or killed animal is discovered with something, usually an item of jewelry, that betrays their human identity.
The classic tale of the transforming witch involves Lady Sybil of Bernshaw Tower in Lancashire, a beautiful heiress who loved to walk to Eagle Crag where she would gaze into the wooded gorge below. The power of the woods lured her; she became a witch. Beautiful, brilliant, and independently wealthy, Lady Sybil took to rambling through the ravines of Cliviger Gorge in the form of a white doe. She attracted the attention of a man named Lord William, variously identified as either being of Hapton Tower or Townley Castle. He became obsessed with her and requested her hand in marriage but she refused.
Not taking “no” for an answer, Lord William hired Mother Hellston, local witch, to prepare a spell for him. She advised him to capture the white doe and hold it captive within Hapton Tower. She gave William an enchanted silk cord and loaned him her familiar, a black dog. On May Eve, he captured the doe. At dawn, the doe turned back into Lady Sybil in her human form, under his spell.
The story now takes one of two twists:
Either, Lady Sybil renounces witchcraft and marries Will. Whether this renunciation was sincere or not initially, Lady Sybil eventually returned to her craft. One day, while she’s playing in the form of a white cat at Cliver Mill, the miller accidentally cuts off her paw. (Italics mine; this story is usually told with a very straight face.) However, Lady Sybil’s magical skills are such that she can restore her hand. (See MAGICAL PROFESSIONS: Millers.) Or, in the second version, Lord William forgets to pay Mother Hellston; the spell lasts one month and then it’s broken. Sybil, now married to Will, comes to her senses, discovers herself a married captive, and wants to escape. William holds her prisoner. A servant named Robin is set to watch her. One day Robin sees a white cat slipping from the room. He cuts off its paw, which instantly transforms into Sibyl’s hand, identifiable by its ring. After her hand has been chopped off, Sybil languishes and quickly dies. She’s buried, as per her request, in Cliviger Gorge.
Either way, local legend says that to this day on May Eve, a white doe, a black hound, and a ghostly hunter haunt the gorge.


Throughout Africa, witches transform into hyenas, bats, nightjars, and owls.

Throughout the British Isles, witches transform into cats and rabbits.

In India and Java witches transform into leopards and tigers.

Jewish and Mexican witches transform into bats, black cats, and black dogs.

In Scandinavia and Finland, witches transform into flies.

Baltic, Russian, Siberian, and Swedish witches transform into magpies.

Siberian shamans, understood as distinct from witches, transform into bears, eagles, boar, elk, and wolves.
Transformation stories and techniques exist worldwide. In Central America and the Andes, there’s a whole hierarchy to shape-shifting. The animal into which you transform reveals your power and status. The most important and powerful sorcerers transform into eagles, jaguars, quetzal birds or natural forms that are associated with status and royalty such as lightning bolts, whirlwinds or pools of blood. The less powerful are only able to transform into lowerstatus creatures like mice, turkeys, and vultures—although with practice and the acquisition of powers they can move up the transformation ladder.
According to witch-hunt era Christian theology, witches could potentially transform into any form, except that of a lamb or a dove, which were perceived as utterly pure, sacred creatures.
The powerful lwa Ezili Zandor is the matron of the Haitian sorcerers’ secret societies known as The Red Sects. Members travel at night in the form of black cats, black pigs, crocodiles, horses, leopards, owls, and wolves. Witches of the Pueblo Indian nations transform into animals for purposes of travel. It’s the most convenient way to get around: easy, quick and discreet. The most popular forms into which to transform include cats, crows, canines, owls, dogs, wolves, and coyotes. Different animal forms are more prevalent in some pueblos than others.
The methods of transformation vary. According to BaKongo belief, every individual possesses multiple souls. A certain type of soul, sort of an “image soul,” can adopt different appearances. These appearances are known as yunga or shells. The shell is an outward covering and it can be changed as desired. The most powerful witches, sorcerers, seers, and prophets can possess and/or develop multiple yungas.
A Portuguese technique leaves the form you attain somewhat to chance:

1 Go to a crossroads during a Full Moon.
2 Spin repeatedly while howling until you get so dizzy or exhausted you collapse on the ground.
3 You will transform into the shape of the last animal to lie there.
(To avoid transformation into a vole or worm, you may wish to observe the area for several hours—or even days—prior to spell-casting.)
According to the tenets of Taoist magic, all living beings can learn the art of changing forms. It’s easiest for humans, easier for animals and harder still for plants. What’s stopping you from shape-shifting? It’s not lack of magical ability, but laziness and lack of discipline.
Two methods of transformation exist.

1 The ethical method: study various Taoist classics and eventually the ability is gained.
2 Sex magic: the partner who first achieves orgasm gives off energy, which may be acquired by the other partner and used for purposes of transformation. One partner essentially vampirizes the other’s vitality and magical powers. Yes, it’s potentially harmful for the other partner.
According to another Taoist magical belief, extended longevity may earn you the ability to shape-shift. If you can live long enough, the ability may just develop naturally. Of course, there’s a hidden implication in this method: how does one achieve really extended longevity? Answer: alchemy; the acquisition of the philosopher’s stone. If you study alchemy intensely, one of the side-effects may be transformative power.
Other traditions use other methods of transformation:


Witches from the Pueblos of the American Southwest jump through twisted yucca fiber hoops. (In various legends, Coyote teaches these transformation skills.)

Russian witches transform via similar athletic means. One method is to somersault backwards over copper knives thrust into the ground or into a treestump; to return to human form, somersault back over the knives in the opposite direction, retracing your steps, so to speak. If someone removes the knives, while you’re out roaming, you’re stuck.

European witch-hunters believed that transformation was only possible because of a diabolical pact. The witch didn’t really have the power to transform; Satan did it for her, or at least supplied the illusion. Other schools of philosophy understand the ability to shape-shift as a gift from a deity. Frequently the form into which one transforms is one that is sacred to that deity. In essence, by transforming, you become the deity’s sacred animal or messenger. This may or may not be understood literally. Thus Diana’s “dogs” and “wolves,” sons of the bitch goddess, may not have expected to literally transform into canines.

That literal transformation wasn’t necessarily expected is indicated by the use of masks and costumes to transform. If you really literally expect to change forms, who needs a mask? Why go to the time, trouble, and expense? Masks, costumes, and rituals assist ritual channeling of the animal; once the spirit of the animal is received, the costume completes the picture.

According to the powerful and sophisticated traditional schools of magic in Java, you can transform yourself. Javanese sorcerers most frequently transform into tigers by memorizing entire books of magical chants, which must then be repeated perfectly from memory during ritual. Transformation may also be effected via magical fabrics, in the case of the tiger, a special striped cloth.

Transformative energy may be the gift of a spirit. The Vodou lwa Ogou ge Rouge is renowned for bestowing this power, as is the Norse spirit Freya.

According to some schools of magical philosophy, no method is necessary. The ability to transform, to change shapes, is hereditary. Certain animal forms run in families, kind of like the old horror film, Cat People.

Animals Who Transform Willingly Into People
Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Shape-shifting is a hall of mirrors; one mustn’t always assume that the human form is the original form. Some cultures believe that some animals have the intelligence, desire, and magical skill to assume our form to accomplish various purposes.
In Russian magic, it’s believed that animals may be transformed witches, wizards or spirits. Spirits usually take the form of black dogs or cats while magical practitioners are white or gray.
Shape-shifting is a common theme in Japanese folklore but the typical scenario of witch transforming into animal is reversed. In Japan, animals, most typically cats, foxes, snakes, and tanuki (known as Japanese badgers), transform into human form. Transformation by snakes usually involves some sort of romantic motivation. Tanuki are mischievous and greedy but rarely malevolent. Sacred clowns, their Shape-shifting may even stem from spiritual intent: their favored form is as a Buddhist priest. The tanuki stands up on his hind legs and distends his scrotum so as to become a drum, in order to make people laugh.
Cat spirits frequently possess malevolent intent; in their transformed state as humans they may be understood as witches in the worst sense of the word. In the standard form of the Japanese legend, a malevolent cat spirit eats an old woman, usually the village blacksmith’s mother, and then assumes her shape in order to harm travelers. These cats disguised as women typically lead packs (covens) of wolves. Because she looks exactly like Grandma, the cat gets away with evil deeds for a while but is eventually exposed by the telltale clue that she is a disguised animal: she always eats alone. (This is because she must eat like an animal with her face directly in the bowl and not as a human, sitting up with utensils.)
Foxes are far more complex: their motivation might be mischief, magic or malevolent soulstealing. To complicate matters, transformative foxes may or may not be real foxes. Spirit foxes may be able to clothe themselves in various bodies, vulpine and/or human. Foxes may also engage in amorous adventures but it tends to be for vampiric purposes, as a method of alchemical sex magic.
Malice or revenge are typical motivations for fox spirits; and it can be for something as simple as startling it when it’s asleep or stepping on its tail, escalating to killing a cub or a mate. (In this, fox spirits are very similar to djinn, which also take the form of animals, typically dogs or cats, which must not be harmed, frightened or molested lest the hidden djinn retaliate.) Other motivating factors may be greed, lust or desire. They may want sex or food, especially treats they’re not likely to get in fox form.
According to Taoist belief, any fox that attains fifty years of age can shape-shift into a standard human. If the fox can make it to a hundred, he’ll be a skilled sorcerer, too. There are various beliefs regarding abilities earned through longevity. An alternative view is that foxes and wolves that survive eighty years can transform into humans. If these animals can achieve one thousand years, they’ll be divine. (And how does a fox or anyone live to be a thousand years old? Through alchemy.) Older people are likewise able to develop the ability to shape-shift.
A classic example from Japan: a samurai walking home one night spots a fox and shoots an arrow at it. The fox is wounded but doesn’t fall. It keeps going. The samurai follows it but is unable to catch up. Even wounded, this fox is too fast. He keeps following and eventually the samurai discovers that the fox has led him home. Suddenly, the fox transforms into a man and sets the samurai’s house on fire. Before the dazed and confused samurai can react, the fox transforms back into its original shape and escapes into the forest.

Victims of Transformation
Among witches’ notorious “crimes” is the transformation of human victims into animal form. The most famous example is Circe, the witch goddess of Homer’s Odyssey who transforms men into apes, pigs, and lions. Of course, one could say, as Circe does, that she isn’t transforming them, she’s revealing their true essence. (She regrets the prevalence of pigs and the paucity of lions, suggesting that Odysseus would have been a lion.) And of course, Circe doesn’t come looking for these men; she lives on a rock in the middle of the sea—they come to her. The motivation of fairy-tale witches who transform victims into animals isn’t always clear, but the witch is almost always depicted as the aggressor.
Victims are transformed into animals, most frequently horses. The victim isn’t treated gently but ridden hard, saddled, bridled or struck with the bridle.
What’s the evidence of transformation? There’ll be wounds on or in the mouth, traces of the bit. Another indication is when tack or riding equipment is missing. The victim may wake up suffering from dizziness, fatigue, covered in cold sweat or black and blue marks—“blue in the face”: all evidence of having been “ridden.”
Another fear is that animals may be indistinguishable from all the others. This may date from guilt about the treatment of formerly sacred animals. Once transformed, the victim who, unlike self-transformed witches who always seem to retain their human capacity for speech, loses the power to speak, and so is treated just like any other animal.


Circe’s spell is first discovered when Odysseus’ hungry sailors almost eat their comrade, transformed into a pig.

Artemis punishes the hunter Actaeon for a transgression by transforming him into a stag. His own dogs are unable to recognize him, he’s unable to call them off, and they rip him apart.

In the Japanese animated film Spirited Away, the heroine Chihiro yearns to rescue her bewitched parents, transformed into pigs, but they’re in a pen with hundreds of other pigs, destined for the dinner table. They can’t identify themselves to her and so it’s an impossible task.

Wolves and Werewolves
Depending upon what one understands a werewolf to be, the line between wolves and wolfmen may be very fine indeed. Mirror-images of each other, they can’t really be separated and so are considered together.
The emotions evoked by wolves and the treatment accorded to them parallel those toward witches. Some find profound beauty, spirituality, something indescribably unique and special about wolves; words aren’t sufficient to evoke the holiness many perceive. On the other hand, the passion, hostility, determination to exterminate wolves—out of all proportion to any damage they might possibly do—parallels emotions toward witches: the urge to kill off something wild, free, and independent.
Like witches, wolves are demonized. Wolves have historically been hunted and exterminated just like witches, shamans, and diviners.


By 300 BCE pagan Celts were breeding wolfhounds especially for killing wolves.

Vargr, “wolf,” was the term used in Icelandic law codes to refer to outlaws who could be hunted down like wolves. The word also implies that wolves could be hunted down like outlaws, the worst offenders.

In Anglo-Saxon England wolves were sometimes hanged near criminals. The Saxon word for gallows is “varagtreo,” “wolf tree.”

In France, in approximately 800 CE, Charlemagne founded an order for the purpose of exterminating wolves, the Louveterie.

In 1281, King Edward I hired a man, Peter Corbet, to destroy all the wolves he could find in Gloucestershire, Herefordshire, Shropshire, Staffordshire, and Worcestershire.
The desire to eliminate wolves was frequently translated into what may be considered a “wolf-craze” similar to the European Witchcraze. In various parts of Europe and North America, it wasn’t sufficient to merely kill wolves; instead they were brutally tortured to death. There is a sadistic quality to the history of the extermination of wolves that more closely resembles the witch-hunts than extermination of other animal species. In the United States, for instance, wolves were captured alive and dragged behind horses until they were torn to pieces. Other wolves captured alive had their jaws (and sometimes penises) wired up and then were released.
Wolves, shy and wary, very rarely attack humans. (Not a single case of a wolf killing a human has been recorded in North America.) Dogs and automobiles are responsible for a vastly greater number of human death and injury, yet both are beloved. Wolves have been known to prey on livestock, but only when humans have encroached on their territory. It’s not wolves who’ve spread out—their territory has consistently diminished over the last two thousand years; humans have spread out, cleared and destroyed wilderness, removing wolves dining alternatives.
However, for some, wolves are the essential spirit of the wild. Without wolves, some magical earth power is also extinguished. In Lakota, the word for “wolf” translates as the “animal that looks like a dog but is a powerful spirit.”
Wolves are identified with witchcraft:


In Germanic tradition, wolves are witches’ mounts and were believed to carry them to sabbats.

In the Navajo language, the same word is used for “wolf” and “witch.”

Vargamors were forest-dwelling Swedish wild women who communed with wolves.

The connection between wolves and witches is so powerful that when some European Romany hear a wolf howl, the automatic reaction is to advise caution as the sound may signal the approach of a witch.
In myth and legend, wolves nurture humans: Zoroaster was allegedly suckled by a mother wolf; Siegfried, Teutonic hero, allegedly had a wolf for a foster-mother, and the founders of Rome, the abandoned babies Remus and Romulus, were found and nursed by a she-wolf.
The wolf was once Rome’s totem animal. The primordial horned spirit Faunus negotiates the balance between deer and wolves, the way the Greek deity Artemis sets the balance between wolves, deer, and hunters. The Lupercalia, Rome’s festival of fertility and purification, was held in honor of Faunus, also known as Lupercus, the wolf spirit. Remnants of the holiday linger in Valentine’s Day traditions. And Feronia was the Italian sacred spirit of magic, prosperity, and freedom. Her sacred animal is the wolf. Once upon a time, if slaves sat on a stone in her shrine, they gained their freedom. Feronia survives but not as a goddess; her most common manifestation is as a witch who roams the marketplace, once women’s place of power.
Wolves are identified with ravenous appetites, whether for food, sex or pleasure. They are identified with strong male sexuality, as in wolf whistles. A wolf is a euphemism for a sexually predatory man. One observes the evolution of demonization of wolves in the tale Little Red Riding Hood. The wolf Little Red Riding Hood meets in the earliest forms of the story is clearly a man. He forcibly gets her into bed; she only escapes by insisting that she needs to use the bathroom—this of course in the days prior to indoor plumbing. Later versions, cleaned up for children, suggest that the villain Little Red Riding Hood encounters is a real wolf, albeit a talking, cross-dressing one.

Werewolves
What exactly are werewolves? Monster-movie material or something real? During Europe’s Witchcraze, a concurrent werewolf panic (centered mainly in France but also present through other regions of Europe) resulted in the deaths of many men. Just as witchcraft was identified with women, werewolves were identified with men.
Johannes Nider, author of an early fifteenth-century witch-hunter’s manual The Formicarius, discusses male witches who transform into wolves. Werewolves may be nothing more than male witches. During the witch-hunts, as witchcraft became increasingly identified with women, public perception and theology may have required that men be classified differently—if men and women can both be witches, then all this theology about women being the gender more susceptible to Satanic wiles goes out the window. To wear a wolf’s skin may be a euphemism for walking the shaman’s or male witch’s path.
European werewolves, similar to Navajo skin-walkers, may not look exactly like real wolves. They may walk upright and have no tail, which sounds suspiciously like a person. Other descriptions suggest that werewolves have a human body but a wolf’s head, like an Egyptian deity or like a masked human.
Although they might or might not literally transform, once upon a time, many people strove to be identified with wolves.


According to Book 10 of Homer’s Odyssey, Odysseus’ grandfather was named Autolykos—“He who is a Wolf.”

The desire to identify with wolves is demonstrated by once popular boy’s names: Adolf, Rudolph, Wolfgang, Wolfram, and plain old Wolf.

The blues singer called Howlin’ Wolf was born Chester Burnett. His adopted name may be understood as a magical name, a veritable boast of primal male and magical power. In many of his songs he explicitly identifies himself with the creature, as a source of pride and power.

The Pawnee nation, Plains Indians from presentday Kansas and Nebraska, identified so profoundly with wolves that the Plains hand-signal for wolf is the same as the one for Pawnee. Others referred to them as the Wolf People.

Odin’s warriors behaved like wolves, hence the name “wolf-warriors.” Sixth- to eighth-century CE helmets and scabbards found widely through Western and Central Europe were decorated with figures that may be werewolves or berserkers.
The earliest written report of werewolves derives from Herodotus, the fifth-century BCE Greek writer. According to him, a tribe known as the Neuri, living north of the Black Sea, had members who turned into wolves for several days each year. Today, this is thought to refer to Scythian shamans.
Werewolf transformation manifests in two distinct ways:


those who shift back and forth between human and werewolf manifestations

those who assume the form of a wolf full-time
People become werewolves voluntarily and involuntarily. People become werewolves accidentally or intentionally. People transform themselves into werewolves or others do it for them. The second manifestation, the full-time wolf, is virtually always an involuntary transformation and is frequently the result of a curse.
How else do you become a werewolf?


Ancestry may be blamed. Someone from a family full of werewolves may be more likely to be one.

Simply sleeping in the moonlight may do the trick.

Taking off one’s clothes and howling in the moonlight is considered effective, too.

The notion that being a werewolf is contagious is popular nowadays but derives more from movie traditions than from any folk wisdom. It may derive from confusion between vampires and werewolves.

In Ojibwa tradition, eating meat that was previously tasted by a real wolf leaves you prone to transformation.

In the Harz Mountains, the witches’ playground, there is a “werewolf stream.” All one must do is find it and drink the water.

In the Balkans, there’s a special werewolf flower. Pick it and transform.

Various spells refer to magical belts which when worn help one transform.

European werewolves allegedly concoct salves similar to witches’ flying ointments to effect transformation.

Order of birth: being born the seventh son of a seventh son or the seventh daughter of the seventh daughter is good.

Someone born with teeth and/or a caul may indicate a potential werewolf (see DICTIONARY: Taltos).

Curses cause transformation, as do evil spells: Polish witches can transform you into a werewolf via methods of “spoiling.” The witches form a belt from human flesh. This is secretly placed over the threshold of a room where a wedding reception is expected. Should someone step over the girdle, they’re doomed to roam as werewolves. (Doom isn’t expected to be permanent; the witches’ goal isn’t malice, it’s extortion: you can pay them to remove the spell.)

A fairly international tradition recommends that you drink rainwater collected from a wolf’s footprint.

In Brazil, the notion of becoming a werewolf involves the acquisition of an animal alter-ego. Accomplishment takes some long-term planning: for three years in a row, intensely petition San Cipriano and roll in the ashes of St John’s Eve bonfires.
According to the witch-hunt era Roman Catholic Church, one can only become a werewolf by making a pact with the devil or by being a child born outside church-sanctioned marriage. No other methods exist. (So much for being the innocent victim of a werewolf attack!) However, according to various unofficial traditions Christian transgressions may be punished by involuntary transformation into a werewolf, including:


being born on Christmas Day, a day also associated with the winter solstice and the power of the sun. Prior to Christianity, this day was understood as falling within a time period when Earth’s innate anarchistic forces were at their most powerful. Another, possibly related superstition, suggests that those born on Christmas Day possess the ability to talk with animals.

illegitimacy

being born a Roman Catholic priest’s son

Breton folklore suggests that anyone who doesn’t go to confession for ten years is vulnerable to transformation to a “bisclavret,” the Breton werewolf.
Lest one think that only male werewolves exist, there are tales of fierce, female werewolves too:


A Welsh prince allegedly had his werewolf daughter eliminate his enemies.

In the Russian tale Ivan of Shiganska, a female werewolf kills the abusive husband her parents forced her to marry.

The loups-garoux of Haiti and the French Caribbean are a fusion of Breton werewolf traditions and African secret sorcerers’ societies. These island loups-garoux tend to be female. Typically the ability to transform is passed from mother to daughter. Loups-garoux can be violent; attacks tend to be random although children of enemies are particularly vulnerable.
This may be lore or legend but werewolves are no laughing matter. Many people died because of werewolves: not because werewolves killed them but because they were suspected or accused of being werewolves. As with witches, despite all the talk of harm, malevolence and bestiality, it’s the werewolves who have historically been victims, not victimizers.
Concurrent to the European Witchcraze, there was a werewolf-panic, most famously in France but also elsewhere. (Werewolf-panic did not strike the British Isles, perhaps because wolves were already extinct.)
Like witchcraft, it’s extremely hard to prove you’re not a werewolf, especially a diabolical one. The human being is allegedly taken over by the spirit of a wolf, thus transforming into a werewolf. The alleged werewolf may be sleeping in bed or locked up in jail while his soul roams free. Using this kind of definition of werewolf, anyone might be convicted as a werewolf even if far from the place where the “crimes” were committed. (And they’re may have been crimes; just because the werewolf didn’t commit the murder doesn’t mean that the murder didn’t exist. One wonders how many accusations of witchcraft were used to deflect attention from true perpetrators.)
As with witch-trial transcripts it’s very difficult to know which part, if any of the testimony is genuine. Confessions were obtained via torture, terror, and duress and aren’t reliable. At the same time, hidden within some of the transcripts are interesting tales that suggest real, true witchcraft may not have been eradicated in Europe.
Among the most famous historical werewolves are the following:
Gilles Garnier: A number of children disappeared in the vicinity of the French city of Dole, beginning (as best as can be told from surviving records) in 1572. The rumor spread that a local werewolf was responsible. In response, the local government passed a law permitting the people of their district to hunt werewolves although it was “out of season.”
At twilight on November 8, 1573, hunters, hearing screams in the woods, discovered a severely wounded little girl fighting off something lupine. The creature fled into the woods. Some of the hunters insisted that it was a wolf. Others said they recognized it as a man, Gilles Garnier, known as the Hermit of St Bonnot.
Garnier lived with his wife in a hut near where the attack occurred. He was a red-faced, long-bearded unattractive man with bad posture and a unibrow. On November 14, a ten-year-old boy disappeared in the area. Garnier was arrested and interrogated. He said that years earlier he had met a man in the woods who taught him to shape-shift into various forms, including those of a lion or leopard but, as Garnier pointed out very reasonably, wolves were most convenient because they were least noticeable. He claimed he spent most of his time in wolf-form and used his powers to obtain food for his impoverished family. Tortured, he confessed to the murders. On January 18, 1574 Garnier was burned alive and his ashes scattered to the winds.
Peter Stump: In 1590, Peter Stump was arrested in Cologne and charged as a werewolf for a series of murders, including that of his own son, which had occurred over a 20-year period. On March 31, 1590, Stump was executed as a werewolf. An illustrated pamphlet was published detailing Stump’s career as a werewolf. The pamphlet was translated into different languages and was a bestseller of its time.
Jean Grenier: In the spring of 1613, children began mysteriously disappearing in the St Sever district of Gascony, France, including a baby from its cradle. An aura of fear pervaded the area. Other children began to report unusual occurrences. Finally 13-year-old Marguerite Poirier reported that while tending cattle, a huge, ferocious canine with reddish fur and a short, stumpy tail jumped from the bushes and attacked her. Marguerite fought it off with an iron-tipped staff. (This may be understood as a clue to the beast’s supernatural identity. If this were really a wolf, a child with a club wouldn’t stand much of a chance; iron is feared by virtually all supernatural beings. It breaks virtually every spell and offers spiritualmagical protection.)
Rumors soon spread that Jean Grenier, aged approximately 13 or 14, was boasting of attacking Marguerite. He claimed that if it hadn’t been for that iron-tipped staff, he would have killed and eaten her as he did others. Grenier, the son of an impoverished laborer, traveled about seeking work with local farmers. He never lasted long at any job, usually being fired for neglecting his duties. Whether he was uneducated or mildly retarded is unknown, but it was noted during his trial that he had the mental capacity of a much younger child. When unable to find work, he begged.
Soon 18-year-old Jeanne Gaboriaut came forward and testified under oath that while she and some other girls had been tending cows, their sheep dogs began to growl and whine at something. The girls investigated and discovered a filthy, red-haired, feral boy with a unibrow. Jeanne asked him why he looked so strange. According to her, he responded, “Because sometimes I wear a wolf’s skin.” The puzzled and intrigued girls asked him to explain. He claimed that a man named Pierre Labourat gave him a wolf skin that, when donned, enabled him to transform into a wolf and hunt. He boasted that he killed and ate many dogs but that these weren’t as tasty as children. The girls fled to the authorities.
A search was made for the boy who was soon found and arrested. Jean Grenier claimed to come from the village of Saint’Antoine de Pizon. His father beat him so he ran away, earning a living as a cowherd and beggar. About three years earlier (this would have been when he was about 10) another boy took him into the woods to meet the Lord of the Forest, who turned out to be a tall man, dressed in black, riding a black horse. Jean met him several times and agreed to serve him. Jean described the children he’d killed and eaten. Witnesses came forward to corroborate his story. The court pronounced him a werewolf and sentenced him to life imprisonment in a monastery.
Grenier is unusual in werewolf-lore because virtually all other convicted European werewolves were burned to death, in the manner of witches. In Grenier’s case however, the Chief of the Court made a speech suggesting that questions of witchcraft and diabolism should be disregarded. Instead the court should consider the boy’s age and mental capacity.
Thiess, the Livonian Werewolf: In 1692, in Jurgensburg, Livonia, an 80-year-old man named Thiess was interrogated. Thiess had long been under suspicion; local Christians considered him an idolater. He allegedly killed small livestock in wolf form although he cooked the meat, not eating it raw.
Thiess perplexed and frustrated his inquisitors. Yes, he confessed to being a werewolf but insisted that he was a holy werewolf, a benevolent one, a werewolf of God. Furthermore, he wasn’t alone: he belonged to a werewolf society. According to Thiess, members of this society went to Hell and back three times a year to fight the devil and his sorcerer minions. (The three nights were St John’s Eve, St Lucy’s Night, and Pentecost.) Thiess initially told his interrogators that Hell was at the “end of the sea.” After further questioning, Thiess amended this to the more conventional “underground.” He claimed there were male and female werewolves but specified women, not young girls. Thiess called werewolves “the dogs of God.” He claimed there were also German werewolves but that they fight in a different hell. The werewolves fought with iron whips. The sorcerers were armed with broomsticks wrapped in horsetails. They fought for the fertility of barley and rye fields as well as the sea’s bounty of fish. Sorcerers stole shoots of grain; if the werewolves couldn’t get them back, there would be famine.
The inquisitors had wanted a standardized werewolf/witchcraft/heresy trial; instead they had stumbled upon a magical shamanic scenario. Exactly what fate befell the aged Thiess is unknown.
Some context may be needed to truly appreciate the Livonian werewolf: Today Livonia is in southern Latvia but in 1692, Livonia was a Baltic province of Russia, bordered on the north by Estonia and on the east by Lake Peipus. It was a true crossroads area, with various ethnic groups present including a high proportion of Swedes.
Pockets of old religion are believed to have survived as well as a shamanic tradition that may have merged with Christianity, thus creating a kind of “double-faith.” Latvian werewolves belonged to the society of the Hairy Martinians, which may be understood as a male witch society. They roamed on certain nights, especially Midsummer’s Eve, to drive away the demons of infertility. They gathered at full moons and at New Year in the forest. Islands in the Latvian River Brasla were among their favorite meeting places.
Count Jean Potocki: The Polish count Jean Potocki was born in 1761. A writer, traveler, and diplomat serving Tsar Alexander I, Potocki traveled widely in Europe, Asia, and North Africa, where he claimed to have flirted with various secret societies. Considered among the founding fathers of ethnology, Potocki was also an early Egyptologist. His claims to fame include his death and his mysterious novel, which was published posthumously. Chapters of The Manuscript Found in Saragossa were published beginning in 1797, however the novel was still incomplete at the time of Potocki’s death almost 20 years later. Sections of the original text were lost; however, a version remains in print, including an English translation. The book is a complex series of intertwining stories featuring a cast of characters including Gypsies, a Kabala master, Moorish princesses, and assorted members of secret societies. It has been compared to The Arabian Nights.
In 1815, Potocki committed suicide using a silver bullet from a melted-down samovar, allegedly convinced that he was a werewolf.

Books of Magic and Witchcraft (#ulink_32817213-41ff-5020-9310-338af2efdfc4)
Scholars and anthropologists suggest that the need to record rituals, formulas, prophecies, spells and their results may have stimulated the creation of writing. Among the earliest surviving writings from many lands, languages, and scripts are divination results and recommended magic rituals.
(Documents pertaining to taxation are also heavily, if less romantically, represented in these early texts.)
Some acknowledgement of this history may be found in myths revealing the identity of the first book. Inevitably it’s a book of magic spells. In ancient Egypt, Thoth was believed to have authored the first book, the eponymous “Book of Thoth.” It allegedly contained various spells, rituals, and names of power. Names of power were words so powerful that if uttered correctly (and you had to pronounce them just right!) virtually anything was in your grasp: spirits would be summoned to accomplish your every desire.
The ancient Jews knew similar legends although they had a different first book: the angel Raziel, witnessing the expulsion from Paradise, felt sorry for Adam and secretly slipped him this book engraved on a sapphire tablet. Raziel knew that without a guide to spells, rituals, amulets, and talismans life would be much more difficult, painful, and joyless. Jewish mystical tradition names this book after the angel, The Book of Raziel.
The neighboring Samaritans had an almost identical legend, although they called their first book, “The Book of Signs.” And according to Etruscan traditions in ancient Italy, their ancestors were plowing a brand-new field when a strange figure emerged from out of the Earth, with the head and body of a handsome young man but possessing snakes for legs. This sacred being identified himself as Tages and he, too, bore a book of spells, rituals, and mysticism that he gave to the Etruscans along with verbal instructions. It was upon these materials that the Etruscans claimed to have founded their great magical, oracular, and spiritual traditions.
It isn’t all legend. We know that the classical Greek magicians wrote handbooks that integrated spells, rituals, and instructions for creating amulets, magical tools, and curse tablets.
Books have been used to teach witchcraft, encompassing spiritual traditions and magical arts. They’ve been used to store and preserve information; they’ve also been used as magical tools, as sacred objects of power.
Historically magical books have not represented the diverse realities of witchcraft. Women’s magic, folk magic, Earth magic has traditionally been transmitted orally. Until very recently, what was found in books, with very few exceptions, consisted largely of ceremonial or high ritual magic. Perhaps because of the literacy factor, ceremonial magic was considered the province of adepts, while folk magic (“kitchen magic”) was considered foolishness and superstition, even among occultists. This situation has changed drastically today—the pendulum may even have swung in the opposite direction—but only since the 1970s.
Because so few magical books survive and so many unknown manuscripts were destroyed it’s impossible to know whether this split between male and female magic was always the case. The stereotype suggests that only men were literate but that’s also misleading: once upon a time, few men could read either.
What you won’t find in this section:

Works of fiction featuring witches as characters or otherwise inspired by witchcraft. Please see CREATIVE ARTS.

The literally thousands of “magical texts” including Books of Shadows, spell-manuals and modern grimoires published since the 1970s.
This stereotype of literate male magicians conducting high ritual in some tower while female witches played in the dirt below may be nothing more than stereotype, however: approximately thirty years before the Common Era, the Roman poet Horace wrote about exclusively female witches and their power to draw down the moon. He described them as devotees of Diana and Proserpina who celebrated in secret nocturnal ceremonies. According to Horace, these witches, too, had a book, the Libros Carminum, the “Book of Charms” or Incantations.
Before the invention of the printing press, making a book was an extremely laborious, time-consuming process. Everything was done by hand, one copy at a time. Very frequently only one copy of a book ever existed so when a book was lost, it was gone for ever. Each book was unique, just as each person is unique—parallels that were not forgotten when books were burned, neither by those who destroyed them nor by those who loved or valued them.
Printing was revolutionary; it changed everything. Printing is the process of making multiple copies of a document by the use of moveable characters or letters. The process was developed independently in both China and Europe. Printing made it possible to make more copies in a few weeks than would have been possible in a lifetime by hand. Johann Gutenberg began building a printing press in 1436 although it took him until approximately 1450 to perfect the process. Although the number of books expanded exponentially there were not nearly as many publications as there are today: your choices were very limited, so what existed was very influential.
Quite a few of those early books, a fairly substantial percentage, had to do with magic and witchcraft, one way or another. Among the earliest and most widely distributed publications were witch-hunters’ manuals, guides for trial judges, Inquisitors and witch-finders. For years, the world’s second most popular bestseller, second only to the Bible, was the Malleus Maleficarum, “The Hammer of the Witches.” Although witches have always been eyed with suspicion by authority and various levels of persecution certainly pre-dated the printing press, perhaps without its invention such massive witch-hunts would not have happened.
On the other hand, simultaneously printing presses were used to bring magic traditions, albeit sometimes incredibly convoluted traditions, to more people than ever before. At great tremendous personal risk, printed grimoires, books of ritual magic, began to appear in Europe. They may be understood as an act of brave defiance against censorship and against the witch-hunts.
In 1951, the last law against witchcraft in the United Kingdom was repealed; this opened the floodgates of a new phenomenon: the witch as author. Gerald Gardner is credited with authoring the first factual book about witchcraft written by a self-identified practitioner. Witchcraft Today was published in 1954. (See HALL OF FAME: Gerald Gardner.)
Many people now learn magic, witchcraft, and Wicca from literary sources rather than from other people. (In many cases this is the only option.) Once upon a time, every town and village had at least one wise woman or cunning man with whom you could consult. That opportunity doesn’t exist anymore and so books and authors have stepped in to fill the void.

Almanacs
Almanacs, defined as books, typically published annually, containing useful, practical advice and information, are most familiar today as standard reference books, similar to encyclopedias or dictionaries. Although some are little more than a compilation of tables of information, many are extremely entertaining. In addition to the “useful, practical information” many almanacs also include proverbs and sayings, little stories, humor, recipes, and assorted odd factoids and miscellany.
However, these extras are the icing on the cake: almanacs are filled with information intended to help one plan one’s daily schedule and one’s work schedule, especially if you still subscribe to a “traditional” occupation like farming, hunting, fishing or seafaring. The typical contents of an almanac include farming and planting information, tide tables, tables of sunrises and sunsets, weather forecasts and ephemeredes (the fancy, technical word for astrological tables). Astrology? In a standard reference book? Yes, because the earliest almanacs were books of magic.
The modern English word almanac is believed to derive from the medieval Latin almanach, which most likely derives from the Arabic al-manAkh, meaning “an almanac.” Another theory suggests that almanac actually derives from the Saxon al-mon-aght, the name given to Norse runic clogs, carved wooden sticks detailing a year’s progression.
Almanacs have extremely ancient roots; they derive from what is known as a hemerology. Hemerologies are magical calendars listing predictions for each day. What does each day mean? What blessings does each day promise or, conversely, for what inherent dangers must one prepare? Which deities or forces possess their utmost power on this day? Intrinsic to the hemerology is the notion that there is such a thing as lucky or unlucky days. Hemerologies thus serve as a guideline for avoiding disaster and maximizing good fortune.
Hemerologies list favorable and unfavorable days within each month; positive and negative actions for each day are also listed. Hemerologies existed in places as far apart as China, Egypt, India, Mesopotamia, Mexico, and Rome.
The earliest known hemerology dates back to at least the second millennium BCE in Mesopotamia. Hemerologies typically include predictions like this:


On the seventh day of the month he should not take a wife; distress will befall him

On the eighth day of the month he may take a wife, his heart will be happy
Daily horoscopes published in newspapers derive from this concept. Among the Aztecs and Mayans, when a baby was born, the hemerological table was consulted in order to reveal the new child’s nahual, patron deity and perhaps name (see ANIMALS: Nahual).
With the invention of the printing press in the fifteenth century, almanacs, which were cheap to produce, became widely circulated and influential. Many people had only two books in their home, the Bible and an almanac. Scholars began producing their own almanacs, among the most renowned being Michel de Nostre Dame, better known now as Nostradamus. His predictions were first published as a feature within the almanacs he wrote, compiled, and published annually beginning in 1550. English astrologer William Lilly published his own almanacs in the seventeenth century.
By the eighteenth century, almanacs had become an extremely popular literary genre; many were bestsellers. Benjamin Franklin published his Poor Richard’s Almanac from 1732 to 1758. Benjamin Banneker, the African-American astronomer and mathematician also published a series of best-selling almanacs. The Old Farmer’s Almanac, first published in 1792, is North America’s oldest continually published periodical. The Old Farmer’s Almanac was originally a guide for farmers and remains so, although many readers who have nothing to do with agriculture, simply enjoy reading it or depend upon its renowned weather predictions. The Old Farmer’s Almanac’s weather and farming advice are based on astrological wisdom, particularly moon phases. For many, these books are their only exposure to true astrology.

The Witches’ Almanac
Another popular publication, The Witches’ Almanac, falls squarely within the tradition of almanacs as books of magic. In addition to the standard practical information one expects to find within an almanac (moon phases, planting tables, and so forth) The Witches’ Almanac is filled with information regarding spells, spirits, and practical magic. The Witches’ Almanac was created by Elizabeth Pepper and John Wilcock and was first published as a labor of love in 1971. It is published annually coinciding with the vernal equinox. In 1980, when their publisher went out of business, The Witches Almanac went on hiatus until 1991 when Pepper and Wilcock revived it as an independent publication. It continues to serve all facets of the witchcraft community.

Books of Shadows
According to its most basic definition, a Book of Shadows is a book of spells or rituals copied by hand. That’s crucial; by definition, a Book of Shadows is a personalized, hand-written book. No two are identical, if only because the handwriting is different. Although various authors have published their personal Books of Shadows, these are usually intended as guidelines or methods of preserving traditions. If you use a printed, published Book of Shadows for spellcasting, which many do, then by definition it is being used in the manner of a grimoire. In order to possess an authentic Book of Shadows it must be hand-written, even if all you do is copy it word for word. A not insubstantial portion of the tradition’s power and beauty derives from the magical art of putting pen to paper.
Books of Shadows derive from the notion that because magical practices and/or pagan religion were persecuted with total eradication as the goal, witches (variously defined) kept secret books. Secrecy was crucial because possession of a magical or pagan text (and that’s a distinction the Inquisition would not have made) was grounds for arrest and conviction for witchcraft. The title of the genre, which may or may not have been coined by Gerald Gardner, father of modern Wicca, refers to the necessity of keeping these books hidden or “in the shadows.”
If one uses the purest, narrowest definition of a Book of Shadows as a hand-written, personalized book of rituals and magic, then in essence, all magical manuscripts created prior to the invention of the printing press, not least the medieval grimoires, are Books of Shadows. They were, by necessity, hand-copied. There was no other way to make a book.
However, that pure, narrow definition of Books of Shadows is rarely used, and the equation of them with medieval grimoires would horrify, appall and anger many Wiccans, because a Book of Shadows is more than just a handwritten ritual guide.
Many would object to considering medieval grimoires as Books of Shadows because these grimoires are virtually all associated with a type of selfish, frequently malevolent, male-oriented sorcery, heavily steeped in Christianity (many who used and perhaps wrote them were theologians) and with a type of magic that is diametrically opposed to traditional Earth-centered witchcraft.
Historic Books of Shadows, as opposed to those created in the wake of Gerald Gardner, are understood to have been books written by individual female witches or by covens in a desperate attempt to keep traditions alive. They are shadowy because normally this material would never have been written down but transmitted orally—but desperate times require desperate action.
This is the definition of Books of Shadows as taught by Gerald Gardner, who claimed to have learned of the tradition when he was initiated into a long-secret coven. Gardner wrote his own Book of Shadows together with Doreen Valiente and Aleister Crowley, and this book is among the bedrock on which Gardnerian Wicca is formed.
Since Gardner, Books of Shadows are an integral part ofWiccan religion, manifesting in various ways.


Solitary witches may create their own book to suit personal needs.

Some traditions maintain one copy, entrusted to the High Priest or High Priestess; initiated individuals may copy from the book as needed.

In some traditions, initiation involves copying and understanding the Book of Shadows over an extended period of time.

Not all traditions create Books of Shadows; some prefer not to put everything in writing.
In this sense Books of Shadows transcend spells. They are books of ritual. If one belongs to a specific spiritual or witchcraft tradition, this sacred book is where the laws, rituals, spells, and crucial information of that tradition are written.
This notion of the historical Book of Shadows grounded in the witch-hunts is controversial. Academics specializing in witchcraft often object to it, convinced it didn’t exist. Many believe Gerald Gardner created the concept himself and only claimed that the tradition was old, similar in fashion to the way grimoires authored in the eighteenth century claim to be based on ancient manuscripts. Because so few ancient magical or Pagan texts survived, it’s impossible to verify—or disprove—these claims.
Scholarly objection stems mainly from the fact that the type of witch Gardner describes tends to be female and is generally believed to be at best functionally illiterate. However, this is assumption and incredibly difficult to prove, one way or another.
Witch-trial records do show that when witches were burned, books were burned with them. However because the books were burned there is little if any evidence of what was burned. It’s an old political trick: first burn the evidence, then say the evidence didn’t exist. And maybe it didn’t. Maybe the scholars are right. But maybe they’re wrong—at least some of the time. Secrets have a way of emerging from the shadows: one historical reference survives. According to seventeenth-century Venetian Inquisition records, charges of witchcraft were levied against a woman named Laura Malipero. When the agents of the Inquisition searched her home they discovered a copy of the banned grimoire The Key of Solomon, together with a private, hand-written book of spells and rituals into which Laura had copied portions of that classical grimoire. Laura Malipero was obviously not illiterate. Her handwritten book fulfills Gerald Gardner’s concept of the individual witch’s Book of Shadows and straddles the fine line between them and medieval grimoires.
And whether Gerald Gardner or someone else made up the notion of Books of Shadows may be irrelevant; it is a beautiful tradition. The completed books (and some are never complete, perpetual works in progress) are beautifully embellished works of art, power, magic, and spirituality. Some are written in magical scripts; some are illustrated. No two are exactly alike.
Wiccan Books of Shadows are traditionally kept secret. Many covens administer an oath of secrecy to initiates. You have to enter and commit yourself to that twilight world of shadows to gain access.
In 1971, the American Wiccan Lady Sheba (Jessie Wicker Bell, died March 25, 2002) was the first to publish an entire Book of Shadows, under the title Lady Sheba’s Book of Shadows. Lady Sheba was a pioneer of Wicca as a public religion. She was among the first to officially register her religion as Wicca at a time when many people were ignorant of Wicca and associated it with Satanism. (The United States armed forces now acknowledges Wicca as a religious option, something not afforded to various Native American or African-derived spiritual traditions.)
Lady Sheba’s Book of Shadows was published to tremendous interest but also tremendous animosity. By publishing her personal Book of Shadows Lady Sheba ignited a firestorm, not from outsiders but from within the Wicca community. Many felt betrayed and believed that she had violated her oath of secrecy. She was accused of making precious spiritual secrets public. (This was a time when comparatively few metaphysical works of any sort were published.)
In addition, many misunderstood the concept of a Book of Shadows being a compilation of earlier material and traditions. Because her Book ofShadows was published under her name, many accused her of claiming to be the author of the material in her book, some of which was traditional. However, other material in her book had been composed by Doreen Valiente, Gerald Gardner’s High Priestess and co-author of Gardner’s Book of Shadows. Because it was never entirely clear exactly how much of Gardner’s material was old and traditional, and hence in the public domain, and how much was created to fulfill the needs of a new spiritual tradition, various issues of copyright infraction, on the ethical level if not also on the legal, were raised.
Lady Sheba’s response to this controversy and the hostility engendered was that the time of secrecy was over and that she had never claimed that the material was original. She was merely passing on the Gardnerian tradition as she had received it. The book remains in print. It is not a book of magic spells but of Wiccan ritual and theology.

Dream-books
Dreams are often understood to contain encoded symbolic meaning. The problem inevitably is cracking the code. Dream-books are guides that allegedly help you do just that. It is an ancient genre that retains its popularity today. The concept is found around the world.


The Artemidoros, a classical dream-book, was written in Greek in the second century CE and named for its author.

Artemidoros’ work was translated into Arabic in the ninth century and stimulated a rash of medieval Arabic dream-books, which in general are accessible only to those fluent in classical Arabic and its nuances.

The Arabic dream-books’ influence may be seen, however, in The Oneirocriticon of Achmet, a Byzantine work on dream interpretation, which was written in Greek in the tenth century and has greatly influenced subsequent dream-books, not only in Byzantine Greek and medieval Latin but also in modern vernacular European languages.
Dream-books aren’t psychological studies of dreams; instead they’re mainly tables of interpretations. If you dream of something, what does it really mean? They’re books of codes. For instance, if your head turns in a dream, this might indicate a change of location in your future. Eventually dream-books began to fulfill another important purpose: treasure hunting. It was believed (and still frequently is) that your dreams hold the clue to your fortune. Any dream symbol can be assigned a number; if you’ve got the right numbers, you might just win the lottery. The implication is that everyone has the right numbers although only a few can decipher them and put them to good use.
Although dream-books do not evoke the hostility of spell-books or grimoires, they were greatly discouraged by the Christian authorities during the Middle Ages. (Later on, they’d just be disparaged as foolishness and superstition.) Games of chance derive originally from sacred arts and it is a very small step from believing numbers are imbedded in your dreams to appreciating that benevolent guardian spirits placed them there. In fact, various Italian and Chinese spells invoke spirits to help provide winning numbers.
In a dream-book all components of a dream, anything envisioned or experienced, is assigned a number. For example, according to Aunt Sally’s Policy Players Dream Book and Wheel of Fortune should you encounter a woman named Clara in your dreams (or even just see or hear the name) you might want to play 13, 36 or 42. Everything may be assigned a number and the better books are quite comprehensive, inventive, and fun.
In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, inexpensive Hoodoo-oriented publications were marketed with romantic titles like The Mystic Oracle or The Gypsy Dream Book and Fortune-teller. Many were sold in conjunction with dream incense. The incense was burned before bedtime to stimulate clairvoyant dreams and then the book would help you figure them out. Aunt Sally’s Policy Players Dream Book, published in the 1890s and still in print, features a cover illustration of a thin gap-toothed black woman with gypsy-style earrings pointing to some lucky numbers with a knowing look. The implication is that she is a conjure woman; she wears a head wrap tied to display horns of power. Aunt Sally’s and many other modern dream-books oriented toward the hoodoo trade are believed to incorporate material from much older sources.

Grimoires
In 1277, the Archbishop of Paris issued a condemnation of “books, rolls or booklets containing necromancy or experiments of sorcery, invocation of demons or conjuration of demons, or conjurations hazardous for souls.” In other words, grimoires.
The term “grimoire” is the name given to the genre of books of magic spells and rituals. Grimoire is a French word and is most usually pronounced “grim-wahr.”
Variants exist in other languages like Latin (grimorium) or Spanish (grimorio) although an English variant does not exist, the French version being used instead. In general, the grimoires were a European phenomenon. Many of the classical grimoires weren’t translated into English until well into the nineteenth century (S. L. MacGregor Mathers, founding member of the Golden Dawn, is responsible for some of the earliest translations).
The closest English word to grimoire is “grammar,” meaning a textbook or, more specifically, an instructive manual teaching correct construction of language. At their simplest, grammars are spelling books and so are grimoires. They just teach different spelling skills.
The first thing one must understand about grimoires, if one wants to understand the genre at all, is that they were illegal. These aren’t merely textbooks of magic and magical ritual; they’re forbidden textbooks; to be precise, forbidden texts of forbidden practices. Back in the Middle Ages, if you were caught with a magical book, punishment was dire. You’d be arrested and arrest almost inevitably led to torture. Oh, you could confess voluntarily to every charge but it gained you little. It wouldn’t earn you a faster, more painless death because voluntary confession was rarely enough. Inquisitors were convinced that arrested witches and sorcerers were always hiding something; it was in the nature of witches to be cleverly evasive and secretive. So they’d torture you until they deemed that what you confessed under pain, terror, and duress was sufficient. Only then would you be burned alive with your magical book at your feet, lest you forgot what got you into this mess in the first place. The book prominently displayed and burned was also a warning to others to stay away at all costs from forbidden texts. There are very excellent reasons why until recently you couldn’t openly buy any sort of magical work in a regular bookstore.
Historically, however, no matter how many have been willing to kill for a forbidden book of magic or spirituality, many more have been willing to risk their lives and die for these books and the knowledge they contain.
Grimoires are based on awareness of how precious and endangered magical and spiritual traditions were and how difficult they were to access. Persecution of witches and the destruction of their books pre-date Christianity. Roman authority, although pagan, feared and wished to suppress magical information; they destroyed works by the thousands too.
There were always people, however, who regretted this loss and attempted to forestall and prevent it, albeit usually secretly. Fragments, pieces and individual pages of these magical texts were saved and preserved. Those who had read them sometimes attempted to recreate them. A black market for these invaluable suppressed magical texts soon sprang up, as did forgeries.
Magical texts, even in fragments were treasured. People copied them by hand from other people’s copies. These copies, each perhaps slightly different, were circulated and copied again and again.
Few knew what to expect from these books because by definition they were scarce and mysterious. Few could understand or even read them: many texts were in archaic or unrecognizable scripts. Some are written in obscure foreign languages. And for a population that was largely illiterate, perhaps any writing is obscure and mysterious. Those little details didn’t stop people from copying them and making attempts at translation. Some early manuscripts are written in several languages at once; your speculation as to why is as good as anyone else’s. As to whether these manuscripts were authentic or whether translations were anywhere near accurate, there was rarely anyone to ask. Even if there was someone, who could trust that that person wouldn’t inform the Inquisition of your curiosity, especially if they’re arrested and tortured themselves?
The results of these hand-written magical manuscripts are the medieval grimoires. Pretty much across the board, they’re a garbled mess. Some are believed based upon genuinely ancient magical texts. Others may contain fragments of these texts, while still others may be forgeries, written to discredit sorcerers or despised ethnic groups or just to earn small fortunes on the black market. Some are a combination of all of the above.
Grimoires as we know them began to appear in the twelfth century. Authorship is generally unknown. New editions were made by handcopying old ones at great personal risk. It is a dream-like genre. Books were written in code, so that only adepts could understand what they were really saying. Some grimoires are attributed to famous names from the past like King Solomon, Albertus Magnus, and various occult masters. (Many are largely cribbed from the works of Cornelius Agrippa although this is rarely acknowledged.) Inevitably attributed authors are long dead and gone for obvious reasons: dead men tell no tales; dead men can’t be prosecuted for witchcraft. Did these famous authors write the entire grimoire? Definitely not. Did they write some or any of the book? Maybe. It can’t be conclusively determined.
In general, with few exceptions, these books are compilations of materials from varied sources, often reflecting very different and even contradictory traditions. Some may be “made up”—an attempt to gouge money from book collectors. Sometimes however even in a book that seems 99 percent invented, a glimmer of genuine occult wisdom suggests that at some point something was real.
For a living person to actually take credit for authoring a grimoire would have been tantamount to suicide, so inevitably they are always “found” manuscripts. An old trunk was opened and an old book discovered within. Or more frequently the story is that someone was minding their own business when a mysterious stranger handed them the text and disappeared. Are these stories true? Maybe. Books were hidden away in chests; someone transporting an illegal magical text probably wouldn’t stop for a chat, tell you where they came from or give you enough information to find them later. On the other hand, maybe these mysterious stories are the required excuses needed for possession of a magical book, or maybe the person telling the story was really the one who first produced the book.
The exclusively male orientation of this genre may be appreciated when one considers that magical books are attributed to Enoch, the Angel Raziel, the Egyptian deity Thoth, and the master magician King Solomon as well as his arch-rival, the master demon Asmodeus. Even a pope is credited with a grimoire. Why then are there no grimoires attributed to such legendary sorceresses as Isis, Circe, Medea or Morgan le Fay?
Grimoires frequently begin with an explanation of who wrote them, where, and why. Conjurers inevitably conjure up glamorous pasts and reputations for themselves. They were trave-ling in Egypt; they met a holy man in India. Are these stories true? Maybe.
The printing press was invented and popularized in Europe during the era of witch-hunting. Magical texts remained forbidden and illegal, however the new technology offered the possibility of making these texts more accessible. After the invention of the printing press, grimoires were published and circulated in secret. Surviving classical grimoires seem to have been printed and standardized between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries although they preserve older material within their pages, although by the time a work was published in a standard edition, it often bore little relation to the original manuscript upon which it was based.
Several versions of the same book may exist, frequently in different languages. It may be impossible to determine which was published first or whether all derive from a now missing source.
Medieval grimoires are in general not books of practical magic. They reflect the predilections, needs, and desires of their intended readers: educated male sorcerers, many with a background in Christian theology.
The grimoires were inspired by various sources. Any one grimoire may include spells and rituals based on one or more of the following:


Egyptian magical papyri

Jewish angelology and magical handbooks including Kabalistic texts

Pagan magical texts, especially surviving remnants from classical Greece, Rome, and pre-Christian Byzantium

Roman Catholic ritual, especially rites of exorcism

Alchemical traditions and mysteries
In general the grimoires emphasize a school of magic known as Ceremonial Magic or High Ritual magic. Further details explaining this school of sorcery may be found in MAGICAL ARTS: Commanding and Compelling. However, the basic premise is that the magician attempts, via a series of often lengthy rituals, to summon spiritual beings and command them to perform various actions on their behalf.
There are three components to this style of magic:

1 Spirits, frequently identified as demons, must be summoned or compelled to come to you.
2 Once you have them, you have to tell them what to do and enforce their compliance.
3 Finally, at the appropriate moment the spirits must be banished or compelled to leave.
The orientation is almost exclusively male. Angels and demons are summoned but not to reveal spiritual secrets, or at least not for the sake of mere knowledge. They’re called upon to locate treasure or forcibly deliver the woman (frequently someone else’s wife) who’s already rejected you. There is relatively little herbal magic (some grimoires contain remedies, although these tend not to be practical or based on established herbal medicine), which was considered the province of women. Sorcerers weren’t interested in this type of magic. Instead, grimoires are handbooks of magic for personal satisfaction, often rooted in selfish desire, rather than for the magical worker who serves her community.
As a whole, the medieval grimoires are not representative of modern witchcraft practices, Wiccan or otherwise. Those who are unfamiliar with them will likely be shocked. To describe them as mean spirited is an understatement (however this is true of many old magical documents, especially surviving texts from Alexandria). Although few if any are literally diabolical, many advocate brutal animal cruelty, magical rape, theft, and murder.
The most important surviving manuscripts from the Middle Ages and Renaissance are preserved in the British Museum in London and the Arsenal Library in Paris.
A sampling of the most famous grimoires follows. Also included in this list are a few books that are not medieval grimoires but were consciously written to follow in the tradition.

Aradia or The Gospel of the Witches
Although Aradia or The Gospel of the Witches is a relatively modern book devoted to magic and witchcraft, it is surrounded by an aura of mystery and controversy as powerful as that of any medieval grimoire.
Charles Godfrey Leland (August 15, 1824–March 20, 1903), who is credited as Aradia’s author, was an American folklorist, author, and journalist, and a respected authority on magic and witchcraft. A wealthy, cultured, well-traveled man, he went to Italy where he employed fortune-tellers and witches to serve as sources and teach him about their traditions. Leland came to believe that Italian witchcraft was deeply rooted in ancient Etruscan and Roman traditions. When he heard rumours about a mysterious manuscript setting forth the ancient doctrines of Italian witchcraft, Leland was determined to obtain it.
Among his sources was a fortune-teller named Maddelena whom he allegedly met in 1886 when he began employing her as a source. He nagged her to help him find this manuscript and, eventually, apparently she did. (How much he pressured her is subject to debate. Leland paid his sources; whether what they told him and brought him was true or was intended to please a wealthy patron is also subject to debate.)
Maddelena brought Leland the manuscript that would serve as the basis for Aradia or The Gospel of the Witches on New Year’s Day, 1897. It was not an ancient manuscript. An older version (or any other version) of Aradia has never been found. Nor did Maddelena bring him the original but had copied it in her own hand, similar to the tradition of Books of Shadows and of medieval grimoires. Leland himself confessed that he did not know how much of Maddelena’s handwritten manuscript was copied from another book and how much was based on oral traditions.
Having delivered the manuscript, Maddelena disappeared. Leland never saw her again, nor was he ever able to produce her in order to verify his story. He translated the Italian manuscript. Aradia is mainly devoted to the deity Diana, Queen of the Witches. It describes a version of her mythology and also includes a compendium of charms, spells, incantations, rituals, and folk magic. Leland added a commentary and published the work in London in 1899. (The part that he claims is derived from Maddelena’s manuscript is in Italian with an English translation; Leland’s own additions are solely in English.)
The tale Leland recounts of how Aradia came to be published is not dissimilar from the backstory explaining the existence of many medieval grimoires: the gist of the story is inevitably that a magical adept delivers a manuscript to someone and then disappears, leaving that person to present the manuscript to the world. However, Leland was no medieval sorcerer but a preeminent folklorist operating, theoretically at least, under the guise of science and anthropology, and so his book was held to a higher standard than that of the grimoires. Bitter arguments immediately sprang up regarding whether the manuscript is really a copy of an ancient book or whether it simply purports to be. Although there is no proof that Aradia is based on an ancient manuscript, neither is there any proof that it isn’t.
How much of it is historically verifiable and how much is “made up”? Since its publication, Aradia or The Gospel of the Witches has stimulated tremendous debate as to its true origins.
There are four possibilities:

1 Maddelena genuinely copied an ancient manuscript.
2 Maddelena wrote the book herself, perhaps based on her own family and personal traditions.
3 Leland made up the story about Maddelena and actually wrote the book himself.
4 Some or all of the above are true.
Because Aradia or The Gospel of the Witches would eventually exert tremendous influence on Gerald Gardner and Doreen Valiente and become incorporated into their vision of modern Wicca (most significantly the foundation of The Charge of the Goddess, among the most beloved Wiccan rituals, lies within Aradia), this debate regarding the book’s origins has never gone away but remains fervent and perhaps even more passionate now then when it was first published over 100 years ago.
Aradia is a complicated, complex book even as to how it should be categorized. It is somewhat unique, falling midway between a witch’s Book of Shadows and a medieval grimoire. Whoever did compose the book was familiar with both those magical literary genres. However, the book identifies itself as a vangelo or a gospel; Aradia or The Gospel of the Witches consciously intends to serve as a testament to Diana in the manner that the New Testament gospels serve as a testament to Christ.
Aradia or The Gospel of the Witches explicitly states that devotion to the Madonna, particularly when she is visualized with the crescent moon, masks forbidden devotions to Diana.
In the context of medieval grimoires, Aradia or The Gospel of the Witches is radical because the focus is on powerful female deities (and Diana is clearly a goddess, not a demon) and because most of it is clearly intended for use primarily by women. There is no pretense toward containing hidden teachings from ancient Egypt or secret writings authored by prophets, kings or popes. Instead this is a text of witchcraft ostensibly created by witches for other witches, and humble ones at that. Simple if potentially powerful folk magic spells, the “Conjuration of the Lemon and Pins” for instance, are included that, one imagines, would have bored Dr Faust-style magicians with loftier pretensions.
However, Aradia is more than just a collection of folk magic and ritual. The book includes Leland’s personal definitions of witches and witchcraft:
…in Italy great numbers of strege, fortunetellers or witches, who divine by cards, perform strange ceremonies in which spirits are supposed to be invoked, make and sell amulets, and, in fact, comport themselves generally as their reputed kind are wont to do, be they Black Voodoos in America or sorceresses anywhere.
Leland understands Italian witchcraft (stregheria) to be the joint product of hereditary witches and those who over the centuries, for one reason or another, joined forces with those witches: “the witches of old were people oppressed by feudal lands [sic] …holding orgies to Diana which the Church represented as being the worship of Satan,” as well as a “vast development of rebels, outcasts, and all the discontented, who adopted witchcraft or sorcery for a religion” who held “secret meetings in desert places, among old ruins accursed by priests as the haunt of evil spirits or ancient heathen gods, or in the mountains.”
In Aradia or The Gospel of the Witches, Diana is described as the first of all spiritual entities. Reminiscent of the Pelasgian creation tale retold in ANIMALS: Snakes, Diana first begets Lucifer (who may or may not be that Lucifer). Vain, proud, and arrogant, Lucifer rejects Diana’s advances but she outsmarts him by resorting to witchcraft, shape-shifting into the form of a black cat, and so is able to conceive their daughter Aradia (Herodias), identified as the female Messiah, the first true witch.
Aradia contains no demonology comparable to medieval grimoires; the deities are treated respectfully. Aradia contains no commanding and compelling rituals equivalent to medieval grimoires but does share some themes in common with standard sorcerers’ grimoires—most jarringly (to modern ears and in a book largely devoted to women’s magic) a spell intended for use by a wizard desiring the love of woman.
He is encouraged to transform her into a dog, Diana’s sacred creature, in which form she will be compelled to come to him whenever he wishes. He can then transform her back into female shape and have his way with her. She will remember nothing of the experience, it will seem like a dream. This is essentially the wizard’s equivalent of a magical date-rape drug.
The image of women transformed into dogs is very powerful, however. Diana’s votive imagery almost always depicts her accompanied by hounds; the implication contained in Aradia is that these hounds are transformed devotees, witches accompanying their goddess in disguise, and recalls that the slur “son of a bitch” was once intended to insinuate that a man’s mother was a witch and hence sexually autonomous (or promiscuous depending upon perception), and that his father’s true identity might thus be suspect.
See also Books of Shadows; ANIMALS: Dogs; Snakes; DIVINE WITCH: Aradia; Diana; Herodias; HALL OF FAME: Gerald Gardner; Charles Godfrey Leland; Doreen Valiente.

The Black Pullet or The Hen with the Golden Eggs
Do you remember the story of the goose that laid the golden eggs? Wouldn’t you like to own a bird like that? Impossible, you say? Well, how about a chicken that can lead you to treasure? Would you settle for that? Sure you would. Now all you need is this book and the magical skill to put its secrets into practice.
Subtitled The Science of Magical Talismans, The Black Pullet is believed to have been first published in the late eighteenth century. Who wrote it? Who knows? The oldest extent version was written in French although it seems to have been published in Rome. According to what’s written in the text, the anonymous author was traveling in Egypt when a mysterious man took him inside a pyramid and taught him occult secrets, which the author now wishes to share. The Black Pullet is the result.
This grimoire is devoted to talismanic magic and treasure hunting. It is divided into two sections, which may or may not have once been separate books. The first contains instructions for making magical rings that will enable you to command and control the elemental fire spirits known as salamanders. Why ever would you want to do that? Because salamanders can, allegedly, be compelled to bestow gifts like invisibility and winning lottery numbers. The book’s second section, fairly unique among grimoires, is devoted to instructions on how to create a magical chicken that can lead you to buried treasure. Don’t laugh; this wasn’t intended as a joke—or at least maybe it wasn’t. A fairly late grimoire, with no pretense of presenting ageold information, The Black Pullet was produced in an era where the lines between obsessed sorcerer and mad scientist were very fine.
The Black Pullet takes a novel approach toward the prevention of piracy and copyright fraud, one that other publishers would perhaps like to consider. Similar to those curses found within Egyptian tombs or inside buried hordes of treasure, the text warns that anyone producing a pirated version will be severely punished via magic.
The Black Pullet displays more humor (or what can be interpreted as humor; maybe there was never any intention of being funny) than is customary in this genre. However, one mustn’t underestimate The Black Pullet. It’s an influential grimoire, which has been incorporated into various traditions, especially those of the Western Hemisphere including Hoodoo. The book is available in English. A Spanish translation—Gallina Negra—has been influential in both Afro-Caribbean and Mexican Santeria.
The Black Pullet created a new style in grimoires, resulting in a series of book with equally evocative titles. Extremely similar grimoires were published under titles like Black Screech Owl, Queen of the Hairy Flies, and Treasure of the Old Man of the Pyramids. A new “version” of the Grand Grimoire was also published around this time entitled The Red Dragon (see page 127).
See ANIMALS: Chickens; DICTIONARY: Santeria.

The Book of Pow-Wows or The Long Lost Friend
The Book of Pow-Wows has over the years become the work most often used to define the Pow-Wow tradition. This selection of charms and folk medicine was compiled in 1819 by Johann (John) George Hohmann.
Pow-Wow uses an Iroquois word to name the magical traditions of German immigrants to the United States. More information may be found within the DICTIONARY.
Unlike virtually all other books in this section, medieval and otherwise, The Book of Pow-Wows and its author are well-documented. Pow-Wow artist John George Hohmann (his name is variously spelled Hohmann, Homan, and Hohman) was born in Germany in approximately 1775. He emigrated to the United States as an indentured servant, arriving in Philadelphia on October 2, 1802 with his wife Anna Catherine and at least one child. Mr and Mrs Hohmann worked as indentured servants in different households in exchange for payment of their sea passage.
Hohmann served in Bucks County, Pennsylvania for 3 1/2 years. Upon release from indenture, The Hohmanns reunited and set up a household together. Hohmann was a devout Roman Catholic and a fervent believer in faith healing. He put together a German-American spellbook, reflecting Pow-Wow tradition. The book was initially published in German as Lange Verborgene Freund (The Long Lost Friend) in Reading, Pennsylvania in 1820. It was eventually translated into English and retitled The Book of Pow Wows or The Long Lost Friend in 1855.
Hohmann did not want his compilation to be considered a grimoire, or at least he didn’t want the local negative attention that authoring a grimoire would attract. This reflects the controversy in the Pow-Wow community between those who perceive themselves as devout Christians, with Pow-Wow as a form of Christian faith healing, and those who acknowledge and perhaps identify with other roots and influences. Hohmann certainly would have resented having his book appear on the same list as The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses, a book reputed to be dangerous and diabolical although (perhaps for that reason) it was extremely popular among German magicians as well as dabblers in the occult. Many understand The Book of Pow Wows to be a safe alternative to that book.
Needless to say, The Book of Pow-Wows is intensely Christian in tone, if not ritual. Pagan Pow-Wow practitioners avail themselves of the same charms by merely deleting Christian references, many of which are easily omitted.
The Book of Pow-Wows was extremely influential outside the Pow-Wow community as well. Traveling salesmen specializing in “religious goods” carried The Book of Pow-Wows to the south, where it was purchased by Hoodoo and Voodoo practitioners who began to incorporate its practices and from whence it entered what would eventually become mainstream American magic transmitted to the world.
The book contains magic from various traditions including German folk magic, Romany magic, and Kabalah. As is so often the case, The Book of Pow-Wows seems to have offered readers more benefits than it did its author. Hohmann did not enjoy economic success; five acres belonging to him were sold in a sheriff’s sale in 1825.

The Book of San Cipriano and Santa Justina
There are two St Cyprians. Both were third-century archbishops who died as Christian martyrs. One or both of them was a converted pagan magician who renounced sorcery to allegedly become a devout Christian. As part of that renunciation process, the magician burned his substantial library of magical texts. Apparently several centuries after his death, St Cyprian began to regret his actions or at least the book-burning ones. He decided that he’d better make amends and provide people with a book containing the essence of his old collection. Now a dead man can’t write, even if he is a sainted archbishop, but he can do the next best thing—he can channel.
According to the preface of The Book of San Cipriano the German monk Jonas Sulfurino wrote down the words dictated to him by St Cyprian in 1000 CE. Exactly who was Jonas Sulfurino? Who knows? But of course in order to be considered an official saint, by definition one must produce miracles. If a saint can produce miracles, who says he can’t dictate a book?
Various slightly different versions of this grimoire have been published under the same title or very close variations on the title. The manual became extremely popular in Iberia, where St Cyprian (San Cipriano) is considered the major patron of magic. He is also considered patron saint of the Romany, who have exerted tremendous influence over Iberian magical traditions. Much of The Book of San Cipriano is devoted to finding long-lost buried treasure in Iberia. The best-known edition was printed in Spain in the sixteenth century. Still very influential in Spain and Portugal, Europeans brought the grimoire to the Western Hemisphere where it has been incorporated into various Afro-Brazilian traditions, including Candomble, Macumba, and Umbanda. As far as I know, there is as yet no English translation.
The book is intensely Christian in tone with prayers addressed to San Cipriano and Santa Elena (St Helen, mother of the Emperor Constantine, credited with discovering the True Cross in Jerusalem.) Despite this, it still bears a reputation in some quarters as a “wicked book.” Some believe that owning a copy leads to evil deeds including murder and suicide.

The Grand Grimoire or The Red Dragon
Believed to have been written in the mid-seventeenth century, the earliest extent version of The Grand Grimoire is in French. The book includes methods of demonic conjuration and necromancy. It is not a nice book and perhaps best fulfills the stereotype of a diabolical grimoire. Arthur Waite, scholar of magic and founding member of The Golden Dawn described The Grand Grimoire as “one of the most atrocious of its class” because it directs the magician to perform acts possible “only to a dangerous maniac or an irreclaimable criminal.”
The Grand Grimoire contains a unique ceremony of demonic conjuration to summon a spirit called Lucifuge Rofocale. Instructions for making a pact with Lucifuge are included, although the text suggests that this should only be used by those magicians who are unable to force the demon without resorting to a pact. Demonstrating the arrogance of this tradition, the pact contained in The Grand Grimoire is intended as a trick; the demon allegedly believes he will obtain the conjurer’s soul after 20 years of service, however only vague promises of some type of reward are really made. Essentially these are instructions for beating the devil at his own game. Lucifuge can allegedly be compelled to locate hidden treasure and deliver it to the sorcerer.

The Great Albert
The full title of this influential grimoire is Albertus Magnus, Being the Approved, Verified, Sympathetic and Natural Egyptian Secrets or White and Black Art for Man and Beast Revealing the Forbidden Knowledge and Mysteries of Ancient Philosophers. Perhaps that’s why they call it The Great Albert. (There’s also a Little Albert.)
The book is attributed to the theologian, Christian saint and alleged magician Albertus Magnus. It is basically a collection of German folk magic and medicine with a strong Christian component. The earliest Great Albert currently known is a German manuscript dating to 1478. The first English edition was published in London in 1725.

The Grimoire of Honorius the Great
The Grimoire of Honorius the Great was allegedly written by Pope Honorius III, who passed away in 1227. The grimoire is occasionally attributed to one of the other popes known as Honorius, however the general consensus seems to be that if the grimoire was indeed written by a pope, then Honorius III is the one. Why would a pope author a grimoire? For priests to use—or at least that’s the rationale given in this book.
The book’s origins are unclear. The Grimoire of Honorius has existed in its present form since at least 1629 and was published in Rome in 1670. According to information contained in its text, a convention of sorcerers elected Honorius to write a work capturing the essence of the magical arts. The text was to be closely guarded and secretly passed from one generation to another. The anonymous author of The Grimoire of Honorius, whoever he was, included an introduction in the form of a papal bull from Pope Honorius proclaiming that Roman Catholic priests are now permitted to invoke demons.
The Grimoire of Honorius suggests various methods of summoning, commanding, and dismissing demons. Included in the work are prayers, assorted animal sacrifices, and instructions on how to create a magical book. Whether or not the grimoire was actually authored by a pope, its orientation is clearly Christian and intended for use by sorcerers in Christianity.
Is the concept of a pope authoring a grimoire completely laughable? Again, who knows? Since the Middle Ages, rumors have consistently circulated that before confiscated magical texts were burned, copies were secretly made and sent to the Vatican Library. Many sorcerers came from a clerical background and in many areas, such as France or Russia, priests were frequently reputed to double as sorcerers and were feared as such. Historically, priests were convicted and burned as witches. Based on their texts, some grimoires were intended for use by rogue priests.
Because the Pope had access to these stores of knowledge, many popes have had reputations, whether deserved or not, as sorcerers. One persistent conspiracy theory alleges that the European Witchcraze was at its roots really a secret attempt to eliminate everyone else possessing any kind of magical wisdom so that only a very small elite, safely hidden in the heart of the Church, would have control over this knowledge.

The Key of Solomon or Clavicula Salomonis
This may be the work that inspired all medieval grimoires. Much of the whole commanding and compelling magical genre derives from tales of King Solomon as the world’s most powerful magician. King Solomon was allegedly able to command a host of spirits. Of course, back in Solomon’s day there was no notion of demons as Satan’s spawn, which emerged only post-Christianity. Arabic tradition, which retains many wonder stories featuring the Jewish king, identifies the spirits Solomon commanded as djinn. Jewish tradition suggests that Solomon obtained and maintained his power over the spirits, many of which were dangerous, through the use of a magical ring.
However, be that as it may, by the first century CE, the Roman collaborator Flavius Josephus, author of The Jewish Wars, noted the existence of a book written by King Solomon. Did Solomon really write this book or did the tradition of attributing manuscripts to the world-renowned already exist? Who knows? No definitive consensus can be reached. Cleopatra of Egypt is known to have authored books so it’s not a far-fetched notion to imagine that Solomon could have written a manual of magic, whether he actually did or not.
People have been searching for King Solomon’s magical manuscript ever since. We know that a book entitled The Testament of Solomon existed by the fourth century. Several handwritten manuscripts recognizable as The Key of Solomon have survived. The oldest surviving copy is in the British Museum. It was written in Greek and is believed to date from the twelfth century.
The Key of Solomon and its companion work, The Lesser Key of Solomon (The Lemegeton), are considered the most influential medieval grimoires. Many other grimoires including The Grand Grimoire incorporate information taken from The Key of Solomon, sometimes openly, sometimes not.
Different portions of The Key of Solomon as it exists today were composed at different times and by different authors. It’s believed that vestiges of ancient Jewish magic survive within the text. The Key of Solomon is a book of ceremonial magic based on Jewish mysticism and Kabalah. The emphasis is on spirit summoning and control. The text outlines magical rituals for evoking spirits, including animal sacrifice.
Perhaps the oldest of the grimoires, The Key of Solomon gained a notorious reputation during the witch-hunts:

In 1350, Pope Innocent VI orders something called The Book of Solomon burned.

At around the same time Nicholas Eymericus burned a book confiscated from a sorcerer entitled The Table of Solomon. This may or may not be a version of the Key.

In 1456, a pamphlet against magic mentions the Key by name.

In 1559, the Inquisition specifically condemns The Key of Solomon and bans it as a heretical work.

During her seventeenth-century trial for witchcraft in Venice, Laura Malipero’s home was searched and a copy of the Key found. A hand-written book was also found into which she was transcribing excerpts from the Key.

The Lemegeton or The Lesser Key of Solomon
The Lemegeton is a collection of five books devoted to spirit summoning. Once again, the text is attributed to King Solomon. The earliest complete surviving manuscript in its present form was written in French and dates to the seventeenth century, although it contains references that date back to approximately 1500. Johann Weyer (1515–1588) included material that seems to derive from The Lemegeton in his catalog of demons, indicating its earlier existence.
What does Lemegeton mean? It resembles an acronym but no one is sure. The text is divided into four parts, which may or may not have originally been separate works. At least one, the Almadel is believed to have once been an original work. The sections are published together and individually today. Purchasing The Lemegeton can be tricky as sometimes the books are sold in one volume but sometimes not. Any volume sold under that name will contain the first book, the Goetia and possibly some or all of the others. Each book or section possesses an individual title, however.
The books are divided as follows:

1 Goetia: this means “sorcery” in Greek. When people refer to The Lemegeton, this is often what is meant. It includes a list and analysis of the 72 most influential demons, many of whom were deities, not demons, at the time of King Solomon. According to legend, King Solomon imprisoned these particular 72 inside a sealed brass cauldron and threw them into the ocean’s depths. Eventually the cauldron washed ashore. It was discovered and opened in the expectation that it would contain treasure, or at least the equivalent of obliging genies in the bottle. Instead, the spirits escaped and are now loose in the world, more troublesome than ever. They can only be controlled by the methods described in this book. The Goetia was translated into English in a collaboration between Aleister Crowley and S. L. MacGregor Mathers, before their eventual falling out.
2 Theurgia Goetia: describes directional spirits and what to do with them.
3 Art Pauline: includes information on planetary hours and governing and guardian angels, as well as instructions on determining your own angels.
4 Art Almadel, also sometimes spelled Almandel: who needs dangerous, troublesome demons? This book includes instructions for summoning angels and convincing them to provide your heart’s desire. The age and origin of this book is unknown. The earliest known reference to The Almadel occurs approximately 1500. Its title isn’t as mysterious as those of some other grimoires: an almadel is a wax square upon which one may inscribe sigils. The handbook reveals how to create almadels.
There is also a fifth book, well, two of them, that are sometimes considered part and parcel of The Lemegeton package. The two fifth books are not identical and have different names. If you purchase a “complete” Lemegeton, it may contain only the four books listed above; it may contain the four books plus one of the following titles or it may substitute one of the following for one of the above:

Artem Novem: this includes rituals and prayers that it claims are necessary to consecrate the tools used in the other books

Ars Notoria or The Magical Art of Solomon: also attributed to Solomon

The Little Albert or Les Secrets Merveilleux de la Magie Naturelle et Cabalistique du Petit Albert
This is also known as The Book of Secrets, the same nickname given to The Great Albert (as opposed to the grimoire True Black Magic, which is also known as The Secret of Secrets.) Like The Great Albert, this one is attributed to theologian, saint, and magician Albertus Magnus, although whether some or any of it was actually authored by him is subject to debate. The manuscript originally circulated in various handwritten versions. It was later printed and standardized, reputedly first published in 1651 in Lyon. The Little Albert was banned by the Inquisition.

The Magus by Francis Barrett
Written in 1801 in England, this is considered a primary source for modern ceremonial or high ritual magic. For a long time it was very rare and sought after, although always very controversial. The Magus evokes strong reactions. Many consider it a masterwork; others consider it an act of theft. Is it a compilation or did Barrett claim to be author?
Francis Barrett was a British chemistry professor. He also taught private classes in the magical arts. He translated many occult texts previously unavailable in English.
The Magus is unusual as a grimoire written in English, which may or may not have contributed to the hostility toward it. Those who favor the book believe that Barrett compiled it in an attempt to stimulate the survival and growth of ceremonial magic, which he perceived as endangered.
The Magus is divided into sections, the last being a series of biographical sketches of various magical masters. It is somewhat out of character with the rest of book and there have been allegations that this section was added by the printer as “padding.” (Adding insult to injury, some consider this the best part of the book.)

The Munich Manual of Demonic Magic
This book, written in Latin and dating from the fifteenth century, offers instructions for conjuring and dismissing demons using magic circles and words of power. Roman Catholic ritual is heavily incorporated although hardly in an approved, orthodox manner. Spells are included to obtain a woman’s love when other methods aren’t working, to attain invisibility, and to cause enmity between people who currently like each other.

Mystery of the Long Lost 8th, 9th and 10th Books of Moses
The Mystery of the Long Lost 8th, 9th and 10th Books of Moses is not a medieval grimoire but is based upon the traditions of the genre. It was first published in 1945. Its author and compiler, Henri Gamache, was a mysterious, albeit highly influential folkloric-scholar He collected the material for The 8th, 9th and 10th Books from medieval Arabic, Aramaic, and Coptic grimoires. Gamache’s work doesn’t evoke the same passions as does The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses (see page 129)—it is considered neither diabolical nor inauthentic. The general consensus is that Gamache’s work is based on genuine sources.
Henri Gamache’s book consists of three parts. The first two include his analyses of Moses, whom Gamache describes as “the great voodoo man of the bible” and of how and why these magical texts were lost. (Basically these two parts are Gamache’s explanations of why conventional wisdom regarding the Bible is wrong.) Gamache links ancient Egyptian and Jewish magic and spiritual traditions to those of sub-Saharan tribal Africa.
The third part is called Curiosa or 44 Secrets to Universal Power and contains various seals, nostrums, and sigils.
Rather than commanding and compelling demons, the focus is upon “practical magic” such as “seals for love between a man and his wife” or “seal for whoever wisheth for a woman and her father will not give her.”

The Picatrix or the Ghayat al-Hakim (“The Aim of the Wise” or “The Goal of the Wise”)
The Picatrix is highly unusual because it is a survival of an Arabic book of magic in Europe. Because it was translated into Latin at an early stage, The Picatrix remained accessible to Europeans when almost all other Arabic metaphysical knowledge was not.
The Picatrix was apparently composed in Andalusia in approximately 1000 CE at a time when most of what is now Spain was under Muslim rule. Although the book is attributed to the Andalusian mathematician al-Majriti who died c. 1005, there is little indication that this attribution is any more reliable than those of other grimoires. Some believe that the book was actually composed and/or compiled in the twelfth century. The book now popularly known as The Picatrix was translated into Latin in 1256 for the Castilian king Alfonso the Wise.
The Picatrix is substantially larger than other grimoires. It is a compendium of four books and may offer the most complete magical system of any grimoire. It is mainly a compilation of astral, sympathetic, and talismanic magic, grounded in Arabic and classical magic, with reference made to Hermes Trismegistus. Among the stated aims of the book’s spells are the acquisition of love and longevity, healing, escape from captivity, and gaining control over one’s enemies.
Although it was always rare, it was also highly influential. Latin, French, Spanish, and German translations are available. The first two books of The Picatrix were finally translated from Arabic into English in 2002 and published by Ouroborus Press.
See HALL OF FAME: Ficino; Trithemius.

The Red Dragon
If you’ve read The Grand Grimoire, you’ve read The Red Dragon. Some versions of The Grand Grimoire (or The Red Dragon) are in fact published as The Grand Grimoire or The Red Dragon, although each may also be published independently. Confused? Apparently that’s what a publisher wanted. The Red Dragon is believed by many to be nothing more than a retitled, slightly different version of the earlier Grand Grimoire. Allegedly when a publisher wished to sell a new grimoire but lacked a new manuscript, the new title was simply tacked onto a version of the old book. An alternative explanation suggests that The Grand Grimoire was retitled to sound similar to The Black Pullet, which was then considered more stylish and nouveau than diabolical older texts like The Grand Grimoire, which had earned an evil reputation. (A certain cynicism may be at play here. It’s been long rumored that a good percentage of those who purchase grimoires do so because they want to own something notorious and diabolical, not because they ever plan to put the book into practice or even have the capacity to read it.) The Red Dragon was published in 1822, although information contained in the text claims that it was really written in 1522. Again, who knows?

The Sacred Book of Abramelin the Mage
Aleister Crowley described this book as both the best and most dangerous book ever written. Dion Fortune claimed Abramelin’s magical system was the most potent and complete.
The Sacred Book of Abramelin the Mage may best exemplify the mysteries, frustration, and beauty of the medieval grimoire genre. The grimoire was allegedly written by the magician Abraham ben Simeon in 1458 for his son, although whether the book itself was actually authored in 1458 or whether the date indicates when a copy was made of an earlier work is unclear. According to the story given in the grimoire, Abraham, a magician and Kabalah master from Wurzberg, spent years traveling through Europe, the Middle East, and Egypt in search of mystic wisdom before meeting his teacher, a Jewish magician in Egypt called Abrahamelim or Abra-Melin. Abra-Melin taught Abraham a magical system which he now allegedly sets down on paper for his son.
Three surviving manuscripts of this work exist, each one written in a different language: French, German, and Hebrew. They are all slightly different; it’s unclear which is oldest. S. L. MacGregor Mathers first translated The Sacred Magic into English in 1900, using the fifteenth-century French manuscript.
Whether the story that explains the grimoire is true has been subject of deep, heated debate. There is no documentation that either Abraham, his son or the mysterious Abra-Melin ever existed, although there is also no proof that they didn’t. A number of Christian references and themes in the work have lead some to believe that the author was a Christian and that the work is a forgery attributed to a Jewish magician either as defamation of character (the stereotype of the Jewish magician encouraged diabolical associations) or because in certain circles, Jewish magic was perceived as glamorous and mysterious, similar to the manner in which Egyptian magical traditions are still perceived. Others believe that later Christian interpolations were added to a book that is at heart exactly what it claims to be. Traditional Kabalah scholars have also studied this work to debate its authenticity. No consensus has been reached. No less an authority than the Kabalah master Gershom Scholem changed his mind about The Sacred Book of Abramelin several times. (By contrast, there is general consensus among Kabalah scholars that the grimoire known as The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses has no basis in true Kabalah or ancient Jewish magic.)
The Sacred Book of Abramelin the Mage is not just a collection of seals, spells or rituals but an entire magical system. Think you’ll bring the book home and knock off some spells this weekend? Think again. Abramelin’s system involves months of purification. The book had tremendous influence over ceremonial magic. Once the system has been learned and the practitioner initiated, it promises mastery of the invocation of benevolent and malevolent spirits for material purposes, including acquiring romance and treasure, raising armies from thin air, and magically traveling through air or underwater. (Regardless of who actually wrote this text, this was centuries before submarines or airplanes.) The system is based on a series of magic squares, however the book makes it clear that the system won’t work for anyone who is not an initiate.
Raphael Patai, scholar of esoterica, was fluent in Hebrew, German, and French and so was able to read all three surviving manuscripts and compare them. Based upon these comparisons, he felt that at heart, the story presented in the manuscript was plausible and the magical system authentic, although later interpolations had obviously been made. His fascinating analysis of the three manuscripts is found in his book The Jewish Alchemists (Princeton University Press, 1994).
See HALL OF FAME: Aleister Crowley; Dion Fortune; S. L. MacGregor Mathers.

The Secret of Secrets or True Black Magic
According to this manuscript’s claims, it was allegedly discovered in Jerusalem at the Sepulcher of Solomon (yes, this one is attributed to him too.) Allegedly translated from Hebrew, it seems to have first been published in Rome in 1750. The book contains 45 talismans and some instructions on how to use them. Arthur Waite identified The Secret of Secrets as an adaptation of The Key of Solomon. It is truly very similar although more malicious in tone. It was considered a diabolical, dangerous text, although this may have been a deliberately cultivated image—as demonstrated by its alternative title.

The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses
Like the Mystery of the Long Lost 8th, 9th and 10th Books of Moses, the grimoire known as The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses is based on the premise that the Ten Commandments were only part of the message transmitted on Mount Sinai. The Ten Commandments and the first five books of Moses (the first five books of the Old Testament) were the public information transmitted to Moses. God also gave Moses secret information.
This concept is based on some ancient Jewish mystical traditions that suggest that esoteric knowledge was also simultaneously transmitted. This knowledge is dangerous and so is not readily circulated. (Until recently, study of Kabalah was restricted to men who were over 40 years of age and married. It was considered too dangerous for anyone else.) However, the specific backstory of The Sixth and Seventh Books as revealed in its own introduction does not come from Jewish tradition.
According to the introduction, the material in the grimoire was allegedly first divinely revealed to Moses on Mount Sinai. It was then transmitted secretly, generation to generation, until it reached King Solomon, who used the material to command spirits. (In essence, through this story, The Sixth and Seventh Books is making a competitive claim for The Key of Solomon’s glory.) Following King Solomon’s death, the material allegedly went underground for centuries but was then “discovered” in 330 by the Roman Emperor Constantine. Constantine retained the tradition of secrecy; however the secrets had now passed out of Jewish hands, coinciding with Rome’s acceptance of Christianity as the state religion, and would eventually become the personal property of the popes. Eventually Pope Sylvester, another pope reputed to be a magician, had the material translated but commanded that it be kept secret and never made public under threat of excommunication. No secret stays hidden for ever; people had long whispered of these secrets, stolen glances at these manuscripts. Or so they said. In 1520, a copy of the translated book allegedly reached the Holy Roman Emperor, who finally broke with tradition and permitted publication.
To some extent, this is the conspiracy theory grimoire. Beyond whatever else, the story reveals fears of hidden knowledge, Jewish, and/or Vatican conspiracies.
So what’s in these sixth and seventh books? The Sixth Book contains magic seals; the Seventh contains magic tables. The core of the book is an anthology of woodcuts allegedly copied from old manuscripts as well as incantations for summoning, commanding, and dismissing spirits. The book seems originally to have been written in some combination of German, Hebrew, and Latin, although this may be because different versions have been cobbled together. Christian and Jewish spiritual traditions are intermingled, not necessarily comfortably. A German edition was first published in Stuttgart in 1849 and attributed to Johann Scheibel (1736–1809) although scholars believe the material dates back to the fourteenth century. The first English translation was published in 1880 in New York by Wehman Brothers.
The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses evokes passionate responses. There are scholars of ancient Jewish magic who absolutely detest this book. Various amulets and talismans are purported in the text to derive from ancient Egyptian and Jewish sources; some Kabalah scholars believe that some of the seals are authentic, or at least based on authentic tradition. However, the text seems to have been written (or incredibly strongly amended) by a Christian author(s) with little direct knowledge of ancient Semitic magic or the nuances of Hebrew or Aramaic. Although the book claims to derive from sacred texts like the Talmud and assorted Kabalistic works, it bears little or no resemblance to them. (Because the average reader has no knowledge of these topics, they are not in the position to judge authenticity but are likely to take it at face value.) Some believe that The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses is a medieval forgery used to implicate Jews as sorcerers, leaving them vulnerable en masse to legal persecution as witches.
The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses contains some interesting magical seals that contain recognizable Hebrew letters as well as those of an unknown script. Portions of the manuscript were allegedly translated from Cuthan-Samaritan, a mysterious language about which little is known other than it has allegedly been extinct since the twelfth century.
The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses became particularly popular in German magical traditions. It was transported to the Western Hemisphere by German immigrants where it remains a (controversial) part of the Pow-Wow canon. It is also favored by various African Diaspora traditions including Obeah and Vodou.
However, The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses earned its fame and notoriety as perhaps the most diabolized of all the grimoires, evoking particularly strong reactions from those opposed to the practice of magic. It developed an extremely malevolent European reputation, although this may be partly responsible for the book’s popularity.
The book retained great popularity in Germany up until the 1930s. When Pow-Wow artists refer to the “black book” this tends to be the one they mean (unless they’re discussing Satan’s personal book of records).
In the 1950s the German metaphysical publisher Planet Verlag printed and sold 9,000 copies of The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses. In 1956, a coalition of German anti-occult religious and secular authorities sued the publishers, claiming that some of the spells might be construed as encouraging occult murder. A lower court found Planet Verlag guilty of “harmful publication” and imposed heavy financial penalties.

The True Grimoire or Grimorium Verum
This is a strange grimoire full of interesting details, inaccuracies, and controversy. S. L. MacGregor Mathers described it as “full of evil magic, and I cannot caution the practical student too strongly against[it].” Another work attributed to King Solomon, it is sometimes sold as The True Clavicles of Solomon. As clavicles means “keys” the implication is that this work is superior and more authentic than the renowned, popular Key of Solomon. This may be opinion or it may be audacity; there are those who believe that the bulk of The True Grimoire is cribbed from the Key and the Lemegeton.
Be that as it may, The True Grimoire was allegedly translated from the Hebrew by a “Dominican Jesuit” (which doesn’t exist—there is no such religious order) and allegedly published by Alibeck the Egyptian in Memphis, Egypt in 1517. (Arthur Waite says Memphis is really Rome.) Its author and origins are unknown. Some experts date it no earlier than 1750 although others disagree and accept the alleged publication date. Some claim that this text was among those used by the diabolical Abbé Guibourg in the seventeenth century.
The True Grimoire offers a complete course in summoning and compelling demons and was at one time extremely popular—it was the most popular grimoire in Europe by the nineteenth century, particularly in France. Similar in style and nature to The Grand Grimoire, it contains instructions for conjuring and compelling demons, including sigils and descriptions of demons’ powers. Like The Grand Grimoire, The True Grimoire was considered a diabolical book
Although it is now a notorious book and many avoid it for fear of being tainted by association, The True Grimoire is a particularly fascinating example of the grimoire genre. It is unusual in that grimoires virtually always assume that practitioners and readers are exclusively male: The True Grimoire uniquely contains some instructions offering variations depending upon whether the magician is male or female. It is also comparatively respectful towards demons. Instead of merely commanding and compelling, the reader is informed that such powerful spirits won’t do anything without payment. This may be construed as referring to offerings or sacrifice and indeed, pretty disgusting instructions are included for preparing a sacrificial goat, although these instructions correspond to no spiritual traditions’ notions of sacrifice.
Diabolical or not, whoever wrote The True Grimoire must have been a book-lover. Among the various demons and their powers that The True Grimoire identifies is Humot who, the text assures, will instantly provide the conjuring sorcerer with any book he or she might demand.

The World’s Greatest Magician Black Herman’s Secrets of Magic, Mystery, and Legerdemain
The author, who called himself “Black” Herman Rucker, was an African-American stage magician, herbalist, and hoodoo doctor. He remains highly unusual because he is among the very few to have successfully integrated simultaneous careers in legerdemain and true magic. Since the European witch-hunts, both these traditions have eyed each other with suspicion and hostility. Although each derives from shamanic arts, many practitioners of either art perceive their craft as diametrically opposed to the other.
Rucker published a monthly magazine from his Harlem headquarters and was famed for providing winning lottery numbers. Like many magicians, Rucker cultivated a glamorous image and origins. He claimed to have been born in Africa and to have learned mystic traditions in his travels around the world, including stops in Paris, London, China, India, and Egypt.
This is not a handbook of instructions for commanding and compelling; however it was written by someone who was familiar with the genre, particularly with those grimoires that combine folk healing with practical charms and spells.
Just because Black Herman’s grimoire is modern doesn’t mean it isn’t steeped in mystery and confusion. The book consists of two parts: a preface and a body of main text. The preface is dated 1925, however no book in the form in which it presently exists has ever been found with a publication date earlier than 1938.
To further add to the confusion, there is also a nineteenth-century grimoire known as Herman’s Book on Black Art. It has no relationship to Black Herman’s Secrets of Magic other than a confusing similarity in titles. The identity of the older Herman remains unknown; that book hews to more traditional grimoire material and has been classified as a necromancer’s manual. The World’s Greatest Magician Black Herman’s Secrets of Magic combines parlor tricks and legerdemain with spells, charms, horoscopes, lucky numbers, and Christian ritual.
See DICTIONARY: Conjure; HALL OF FAME: Black Herman Rucker.

Library of the Lost
These are the books you can’t read. You certainly might want to; they were packed with metaphysical, magical, and spiritual wisdom, but you can’t because they don’t exist anymore. Now, books, even in the best of times, are fragile and perishable things. Paper burns, gets ripped or wet. Bindings break. Sometimes books that are too loved just fall apart eventually. However, that was not the fate that befell these books. These books were deliberately and systematically destroyed because someone with the authority to do so didn’t want you or anyone else to read them.
The New Testament indicates the existence and suppression of magical texts. According to Acts 19:18-20 Paul encouraged his Ephesian converts to burn their vast collections of magical books. How vast were these collections? Their worth was estimated at fifty thousand pieces of silver at that time. And In 1501, a papal bull authorized the burning of heretical and profane books.
It’s impossible to describe most of what was destroyed because nothing remains to tell, not even knowledge of existence. The following works and collections, however, are among the most prominent members of this library of the lost.

Alexandria’s Library
Once upon a time, the Royal Library of Alexandria, Egypt is believed to have been the largest depository of written work in the ancient world. It’s estimated that at its peak it held between 400,000 and 700,000 scrolls, including Aristotle’s own personal collection donated by one of his students. Allegedly, the Library possessed a copy of every book then in existence. How was this accomplished? Theft.
The Library belonged to the Pharaoh, whose word was law. All visitors to Alexandria were required to surrender any books in their possession. Copies would be made and the copy returned to the rightful owner, while the original was retained by the Library. Visitors didn’t even have to enter the city. The Library was authorized to remove any books (scrolls) found aboard ships docking at this major port city on the Mediterranean; once again, copies were made and given to the owner.
All that remains of the Alexandria Library is information regarding its policies and the names of some of its titles, a little taste of what was lost. In addition to books of general interest, the Library possessed vast stores of metaphysical works from ancient temple collections throughout Egypt, Greece, Judea, Libya, Mesopotamia, and Nubia.
The Library is believed to have been founded during the third century BCE by Pharaoh Ptolemy II. There are various versions of how the library was lost. The version most commonly circulated until recently suggested that during Julius Caesar’s invasion of Alexandria, the Egyptian fleet was burned with the fire spreading to city and library. Much of the old royal city of Alexandria ended up underwater following a series of earthquakes. Only recently has technology been developed to enable archeologists to study these ancient submerged ruins. The old city has been recreated and mapped more accurately than ever before. It’s now believed that Caesar’s military actions did not destroy the library itself; instead it’s believed that warehouses filled with books, perhaps intended for export, near the Alexandria docks were burned instead.
Before modern archeology, much of what was known about ancient history was filtered through the eyes of Christian monks who translated, wrote, and edited history texts. Booklovers themselves, they may have preferred the notion that Caesar was responsible for this waste and destruction. (Even reports that still hold Caesar responsible acknowledge that attempts were made to rebuild or further enhance the Library. Marc Antony allegedly gave his lady-love, the scholar pharaoh Cleopatra, a gift of 200,000 books for what was essentially her library.)
The Royal Library was finally shut and destroyed during the late fourth century when all other Pagan temples were destroyed. Theophilus, the second Bishop of Alexandria, requested authorization from the Emperor in 391 to destroy all aspects of Paganism and that was the end of the Library. Exactly what happened to the Library is unclear, however the Temple of Serapis was destroyed by a Christian mob that burned all texts found within the shrine.

Druid Books
Very little is known today about the Druids and even less is completely understood; we’re not even 100 percent sure of exactly who they were or what their function was in Celtic society. (Yes, yes, I know. You can read a book that will definitively, absolutely identify the Druids, their beliefs, rituals, and actions; afterwards, you can pick up another book that will give you some other definitions and explanations. Many definitive versions exist.) Most of what we do know is filtered through the writings of Romans like Julius Caesar, who encountered them under less than friendly circumstances.
The standard explanation for our lack of knowledge regarding Druids is that they didn’t write, therefore left no information behind. Celtic society was either non-literate or it was felt that it was too dangerous to commit information, particularly esoteric, valuable information, to paper, where anyone could theoretically read it, including the uninitiated or enemies. This standard explanation may very well be correct; certainly no proof currently exists to indicate that it isn’t. The only clue that this might not entirely be the case comes in reports that St Patrick claimed to have burned 180 books belonging to Irish Druids.

The Etruscan Library
According to legend, Tages, Lord of Wisdom, emerged one day from out of a newly plowed field in the form of a young man with snakes for legs, bearing a book, which he gave to the Etruscan people. This book became the basis for their spiritual and mystical traditions, including their extremely sophisticated systems of divination and augury.
The Etruscans were a non-Indo-European people who inhabited northern and central Italy from approximately 800 BCE. Their memory survives in the name “Tuscany.” Scholarly debate rages as to whether the Etruscans were indigenous to the region or immigrants from Asia Minor or the Eurasian steppes. Very, very little, in fact, is known about the Etruscans although, unlike the Druids, it cannot be said that they didn’t have books. They were an extremely literate, educated, structured society, the dominant power in that area for centuries. The little that is known about them today is filtered through the eyes of their neighbors, the Romans and Greeks, who were uneasy with the Etruscans, not least because of the prominent presence and political and economic equality afforded to Etruscan women.
The Etruscans were what is known as a magical society and were viewed as great magicians. The English words “augury” and “auspicious” derive from Etruscan. Augury—a method of divination through the observation of birds—was pioneered by the Etruscans, while auspice or auspicious derives from “haruspex” (plural haruspices)—the title given the Etruscan priest/magician/seers.
The early kings of Rome were ethnic Etruscans. The very name “Rome” may derive originally from an Etruscan word. Unfortunately for them, the Etruscans found themselves sandwiched between warring, hostile Celts and Romans and bore the brunt. Although the Etruscans first dominated the Romans, they were eventually subjugated by them and not particularly nicely. Etruscans were granted Roman citizenship in 90 BCE but their leadership picked the wrong pony in a political dispute and so they ended up complete losers, their language suppressed and their culture outlawed.
Before he was emperor, Claudius (August 1, 10 BCE-October 13, 54 CE, emperor from 41–54) was a scholar. (This is the emperor who inspired the book and television series, I Claudius.) Claudius sought to preserve Etruscan traditions of magic, divination, and spirituality. The countryside was scoured for elderly Etruscans who were brought before him to be quizzed. The end result of Claudius’ efforts was a 20-volume compilation of Etruscan history, spirituality, and knowledge. Claudius established laws protecting the haruspices and convinced the Roman Senate to establish a library housing his 20 volumes as well as various other writings pertaining to Etruria. The Sibylline Books (see page 136), by then somewhat out of fashion, were moved into this storehouse of spiritual wisdom.
Christianity’s rise to power sounded the death knell for what remained of Etruscan culture. Arnobius, author of The Seven Books of Arnobius against the Heathen, exemplified the official attitude when he wrote in approximately 300 CE that “Etruria is the originator and mother of all superstitions.” Etruscan magical practices were still held in high regard by the general Roman population, if not the government, and thus were targeted for elimination.
The Christian general Flavius Stilicho, regent for the Emperor Honorius between 394 and 408 CE destroyed Claudius’ 20-volume Etruscan compilation as well as The Sibylline Books and the Tagetic Books, which had been stored in Rome’s Temple of Apollo. Today, we are still unable to decipher Etruscan writing; less than 100 words of the Etruscan language can be definitively translated.

Mayan, Aztec, and Mixtec Codices
Most of the cultures encountered by the first European explorers of the Western Hemisphere were non-literate, but there were exceptions. The organized, highly structured and urban civilizations of what is now Mexico were highly literate. The Aztecs (centered in what is now Mexico City) and Mixtecs (centered near Oaxaca) recorded their spiritual, magical, historical, and astrological knowledge as well as prophecies in a type of hand-written book now known as a “codex” (plural codices). These would eventually be systematically destroyed by the Conquistadors and the Inquisition. Less than 20 Mixtec codices survive and precious few Aztec ones as well, notably the Borgia Codex currently housed in the Vatican.
The Mayans were beheld with awe both by their contemporary neighbors and by later observers for their mystical and astrological systems. They had an incredibly complex calendar. Most cultures base their calendars on either the lunar or solar cycles. The Mayans studied cycles of the sun, moon, and Venus and computed a calendar that coordinated all three.
Mayan codices were made from flattened fig tree bark, covered with lime paste (calcium carbonate, not the citrus fruit) and then folded like an accordion. They were written using an exceptionally sophisticated hieroglyphic system, which has yet to be completely deciphered and understood, and vividly illustrated on both sides. This type of paper survives and is known as amaté paper and is a staple of Mayan crafts designed for tourist consumption.
As far as the vast storehouse of Mayan codices goes, only three pre-Columbian Mayan texts and a fragment of a fourth remain. The sixteenth-century Spanish conquerors appreciated immediately that the Mayans had a great, literate, developed civilization. The Mayan hieroglyphic system frustrated and puzzled them. Initially, all texts were gathered together in an attempt to make sense of them but it was quickly decided that the codices were pagan and diabolical and so they were burned.
Father Diego de Landa, second Bishop of Yucatan (November 12, 1524–April 29, 1579) is responsible for the destruction of Mayan texts. Although some books had already been destroyed, when it was brought to his attention that some Mayans, believed to have converted to Christianity, were still practicing their indigenous traditions, Father de Landa ordered an Inquisition followed by an auto-da-fé in which all the Mayan texts (and also some five thousand Mayans) were burned on July 12, 1562. Father de Landa writes:
We found a large number of books in these characters [the hieroglyphics] and, as they contained nothing in which were not to be seen as superstition and lies of the devil, we burned them all, which they [the Mayans] regretted to an amazing degree, and which caused them much affliction.
Not all books were destroyed. The Mayans rescued some, burying them or hiding them in caves. Unlike hidden manuscripts buried in the arid deserts of Western Asia and Egypt, however, the Yucatan climate isn’t conducive to hiding forbidden books. Most were destroyed by humidity, the surviving pieces now impossible to read. Three codices survived in Europe, although how they got there remains mysterious as is much of their history (one codex was ultimately recovered from a garbage can). They are named after the cities in which they were found: the Dresden Codex, Paris Codex, and Madrid Codex. A fourth, fragmentary one is known as the Grolier Codex.

Missing Grimoires
How many books, whether defined as Books of Shadows or grimoires, were burned during the witch-hunts? If it’s impossible to determine the number of human victims, it’s even more impossible to determine the quantity of books. Magical possessions, or anything perceived as such belonging to those convicted of witchcraft, were burned, especially books. What was destroyed in these fires? Who knows? The books are gone and in general it is as if they never existed.
There is an important exception however. The Dominican inquisitor Nicholas Eymericus confiscated and burned many magical books (including such titles as The Table of Solomon and The Treasury of Necromancy) but not before he read them first. Although these books no longer exist, his descriptions do. He wrote a Directory for Inquisitors. According to Eymericus, confiscated books described elaborate magical systems, demons and the means necessary to command them, words of power and what Eymericus described as the diabolical pact.

The Sibylline Books
The ancient prophetesses known as the Sibyls were once rivaled only by those from Delphi. Solitary prophetesses, the various Sibyls existed in various locations; the most famous, and the only one for whom archeological evidence currently exists, is known as the Cumaean Sibyl because she prophesied from a cave near the town of Cumae (now Cuma) overlooking the Bay of Naples. At some point, for whatever reason, the Cumaean Sibyl decided to close up shop, but apparently thought the king of Rome might wish to preserve her prophecies. In 525 BCE, the Cumaean Sibyl presented herself to Tarquin the Proud, last king of Rome, ruler from 534–510. Despite her modern acclaim, he was unfamiliar with her, or perhaps he was expecting someone more impressive. She offered to sell him nine books revealing the future destiny of the world for 300 pieces of gold. She was small, bent over, shabby, and extremely aged, a veritable hag and the king perceived her as senile. He laughed at her and dismissed her.
Sometime later, the Sibyl returned to the king, offering to sell him six books revealing the future of the world for the same price as the nine. Now Tarquin was convinced she was deranged; he mocked her and sent her away. Sometime later, the Sibyl returned for the third time, carrying only three books now, for which she demanded the same 300 gold pieces. Something about her finally impressed the king and he asked to see the books. When he looked them over, he immediately recognized their value, paid the asking price and demanded to buy the other six. The Sibyl had the last laugh; she told Tarquin that she had burned them and promptly disappeared and was never seen again.
Whether one believes that story or not, The Sibylline Books existed. We know this because documentation survives regarding how they were stored, edited and finally destroyed.
Three books came directly from the Sibyl. Tarquin tremendously regretted not purchasing all nine. He ordered the entire College of Priests to recreate the other six as closely as possible. Envoys were sent to other Sibyls in other areas to obtain information. They did the best they could; however an aura of doubt remained as to whether all the crucial information had been retrieved. According to legend, because of Tarquin’s failure Rome was fated to never know its future.
These books were once Rome’s most heavily guarded treasure. The Sibylline Books were kept in a closely guarded vault beneath the Capitoline Temple of Jupiter where they were consulted by the College of Priests. The senate decreed that The Sibylline Books could only be consulted in cases of dire national emergency or before any momentous decision. Even the high priests were not permitted to examine them without receiving special authorization from the Senate. Anyone who attempted to defy this decree was to be sewn into a sack and tossed into the Tiber River.
In 204 BCE, when the Romans found themselves unable to defeat Hannibal of Carthage, The Sibylline Books were consulted. The books foretold victory if the sacred meteor representing the goddess Kybele, then housed in what is now Turkey, be brought to Rome and installed in a temple built for Kybele. History proved this prophecy correct.
Some information as to what was contained in The Sibylline Books survives. Some of it was agricultural information, similar to a modern almanac. There were also instructions for ending plagues and a description of the apocalyptic end of the world, which sounds remarkably like a description of nuclear disaster.
In 83 BCE, a tremendous fire destroyed the Temple of Jupiter and The Sibylline Books burned with it. Once again envoys were sent to various oracles in order to reproduce the texts as closely as possible. The Roman hysteria that greeted Egyptian Queen Cleopatra’s love affairs with Roman leaders derived partly from rumors that The Sibylline Books had prophesied her eventual takeover of Rome. In 18 BCE, Cleopatra’s nemesis Augustus Caesar had a second copy of the books made to protect against loss. During the process, he had one or both copies of The Sibylline Books carefully edited to erase all passages he deemed unacceptable.
Magic, prophecy, and mystery religions were increasingly unpopular in Rome. In 13 BCE, Augustus Caesar burned two thousand magical scrolls. Owning a magical book became a capital offense. Those who wished to preserve their books as well as their lives hid their libraries. The Sibylline Books were preserved but they fell out of fashion and were rarely consulted. Eventually the Roman Emperor Claudius established laws protecting diviners and prophets, including the Etruscan priests known as haruspices. He persuaded the Roman Senate to establish a library housing various writings on Etruscan religion and spirituality. Among the texts preserved in this library were The Sibylline Books.
Magic, prophecy, and mystery religions became even less popular once Christianity became Rome’s official religion. However, for a while The Sibylline Books were tolerated, and even respected, because it was believed that the Cumaean Sibyl had foretold the birth of Christ. Attempts were also made to utilize the Sibylline prophecies to their best advantage. Thus we know of the apocalyptic prediction because Christians later wrote of it, explaining that although others would perish, they would survive to live forever in the Kingdom of God. However, The Sibylline Books were ultimately Pagan works and exceptions would not long be made for them.
In 405 CE, the Christian general and acting regent, Flavius Stilicho, burned The Sibylline Books as heretical texts offensive to Christianity, along with Claudius’ entire library of Etruscan books devoted to divination, magic, religion, and spirituality, only stopping to scrape the gold from the doors of the Temple of Jupiter.
Because there were at least two copies of The Sibylline Books and because near the end they weren’t as closely guarded as they had been in their heyday, rumors persist that a copy of The Sibylline Books is secretly kept in the Vatican Library of Forbidden Books.

Witch-Hunt Books
Like the chicken and the egg, it’s impossible to determine how much the witch-hunts inspired the genre of witch-hunters’ manuals and how much the manuals influenced the witch-hunts. Certainly, stereotypes of witches and the demonization of witchcraft resulted from these books. Witch-hunting was given a religious, even papal, seal of approval in mass-market print form. Regular people, even the illiterate, were able to buy picture books that enabled them to recognize a “witch” and her familiars. (Let’s just say that whoever created these illustrations must have enjoyed drawing cats and bats.)
These manuals taught witch-finders how to find “witches” and instructed judges to have no mercy. Methods of torture were discussed dispassionately. This is a virulent genre; the books are worth reading if only because they still possess the ability to shock. The hatred of witches, women, nature, and foreign people and cultures is palpable.
Interspersed among witch-hunters’ manuals are a few other works published simultaneously, protesting against the witch-trials or the demonization of witches. It is worthwhile to read these as well because they put the lie to the notion that the European witch-hunts occurred because of ignorance, because people didn’t know any better. Balthasar Bekker and Friedrich Spee knew better, and felt strongly enough to record their beliefs in print for everyone to read, at tremendous personal sacrifice and great personal risk.
Some of the most prominent witch-hunters’ manuals are discussed below although there are others in the genre. The few works that dispute witch-hunt methods stand pretty much alone, although history shows that there was a tremendous response to these works. Bekker’s work in particular is believed to have drastically minimized witch-hunting in the Netherlands. Because many of the authors of the most prominent witch-hunt manuals also presided over trials, much of their historical background will be found in WITCHCRAZE!
Unlike grimoires, authors of witch-hunters’ manuals were pleased and proud to sign their work. Publication dates and locations are reliable. There was no reason, when publishing these books, to fear the law; these authors were the law. Books are listed in alphabetical order by author’s name. (As you will see, in general, grimoires had snappier, more evocative titles.) None of the following titles have been lost. All remain in print.

Ady, Thomas
A Candle in the Dark, or a Treatise Concerning the Nature of Witches and Witchcraft: Being Advice to the Judges, Sheriffs, Justices of the Peace and Grandjurymen What to Do Before They Pass Sentence on Such as are Arraigned for their Lives as Witches (1656)
Ady’s book argues that the Bible does not support the validity of witchcraft, at least in the demonic sense. Ady criticized tests used by contemporaries to determine whether someone was a witch. This book was particularly popular among Protestant critics of the witch-trials for whom the Bible was the ultimate arbiter. The book contains the first written reference to “hocus pocus,” used to describe fairground conjurers who practice deceit and illusion rather than witchcraft.

Bekker, Balthasar
The World Bewitched or The Enchanted World (1690)
Balthasar Bekker, a Dutch scholar and Reformed Dutch Church clergyman (March 20, 1634–June 11, 1698) was a major force in preventing the escalation of witch-hunts in Holland. In 1690, he published The World Bewitched, a revolutionary work in which he argued that spirits cannot control the actions of humans and that witches do not consort with the devil, and therefore people are deluded if they fear the power of witches. Bekker suggested that Church leaders encouraged these beliefs so as to justify their practice of confiscating the estates of wealthy people convicted of witchcraft. This book is now considered the seventeenth century’s most influential critique of demonology and witchhunting.
The World Bewitched was published in Dutch and was soon translated into English, French, and German. Within two months of publication, 4000 copies had been sold in the Netherlands alone. Bekker’s church did not support him. In 1692 he was expelled from the ministry because of his book. The World Bewitched was very influential among the Dutch populace, despite protests from local church officials, and witchhunting in Holland was subsequently mild, never reaching the panic levels experienced in France, Germany, and Switzerland.

Bodin, Jean
Demonomania of Witches (1580)
Jean Bodin (1529–1596) was a French Carmelite monk who left the order to study law, eventually becoming a law professor and attorney. Beginning in 1561, Bodin spent 15 years serving King Charles IX of France, at which point he authored and published Six Books of Republic, which analyzed the concept of sovereignty, the king’s right to rule. The book became extremely influential and established Bodin as a leading European political theorist. Many of his books fell somewhat foul of the Inquisition because they were understood to reveal Calvinist sympathies. Bodin has been described as “a learned and humane scholar” and praised for his early defense of religious tolerance.
Of course, that tolerance didn’t extend to witches, nor was Six Books of Republic Bodin’s only work. Bodin left the Court shortly after its publication and became a small-town attorney, public prosecutor and trial judge. Bodin was already prominent and esteemed when he wrote Demonomania and it quickly became among the most widely read demonological treatises of its day, going through ten editions before 1604. It was published in French, German, and Latin.
The book is essentially a professional handbook for prosecutors and judges. In it Bodin argues that it is the responsibility of all judges to treat witches harshly and then execute them by the most painful methods possible. He regretted that burning someone alive wasn’t painful enough and suggested the use of green wood so as to prolong the experience. Anyone showing mercy to witches was suspect and should be tried and executed, too. Bodin suggested that Johann Weyer (see page 146), who had previously disputed the existence of witches, be among those tried. No exceptions were to be made for little witches; Bodin encouraged children to be tortured as brutally as adults so that they’d testify against their parents (and presumably against whomever else their torturers suggested).
Demonomania was used by many judges to justify cruelty and torture. Bodin himself boasted that he’d had both children and adults burned with hot irons until they confessed to any and every accusation. He died from bubonic plague in 1596.
“Whatever punishment one can order against witches by roasting and cooking them over a slow fire is not really very much; and not as bad as the torment which Satan has made for them in this world, to say nothing of the eternal agonies which are prepared for them in hell, for the fire here cannot last more than an hour or so until the witches have died.” (Jean Bodin, Demonomania)

Boguet, Henri
Discourse on Sorcery (1602)
Henri Boguet (c. 1550–1619) was a French attorney and author of legal textbooks for witch-trial judges. Boguet himself had presided over witch-trials as a chief judge in Burgundy and he included details of personal experience in his Discourse on Sorcery. As judge, Boguet condemned at least 600 people to death, including children, for whom he showed no mercy. Boguet describes how he oversaw in person the torture of an eight-year-old girl allegedly possessed by demons. Despite the common practice of strangling the condemned prior to burning their bodies, Boguet personally made sure that many of the condemned were burned alive. His textbook was highly popular, with over a dozen reprints by 1614. He held witches responsible for outbreaks of syphilis. Boguet writes as an eye-witness that Germany in 1590 was
almost entirely occupied with building fires [for witches]; and Switzerland has been compelled to wipe out many of her villages on their account. Travelers in Lorraine may see thousands and thousands of the stakes to which witches are bound.

del Rio, Martin
Disquisitiones Magicarum or Investigations into Magic (1603)
Martin del Rio (1551–1608), who became a Jesuit at the age of 30, was considered a great scholar. His work was written in Latin and became immensely popular, even displacing the Malleus Maleficarum in certain circles. It argues that European witchcraft beliefs and practices were stimulated by attraction to Moorish culture in Spain and also implicates various heresies and the emergence of Protestantism as having influence over witches. He perceived Christianity as besieged by alchemists, sorcerers, and witches whom he classified as heretics as well as evil-doers. Del Rio’s teacher at the Sorbonne, Professor Juan de Maldonado, also taught Pierre de Lancre (see page 144). A popular lecturer, he emphasized that faith was more vital than reason, and is believed to have had an impact on the witch-hunts, if only indirectly, through his famous, powerful students.

Gifford, George
A Discourse of the Subtle Practices of Devils by Witches and Sorcerers (1587) and A Dialogue Concerning Witches and Witchcraft (1593)
The English clergyman George Gifford (c. 1548–?) wrote two books arguing that witches did not possess supernatural power to harm. Only the devil himself possessed the power to work supernatural evil. Gifford believed that most self-professed witches were delusional and that witch-hunters and persecutors were stimulated by fear and hysteria, not reason. Gifford was an independent thinker; in 1584 he had been suspended from his ministry for refusing to subscribe to the articles of the established church. He lost his position despite petitions otherwise from his parishioners. Gifford did not deny the existence of witchcraft; however he amended its definition. Magical work and mystic power sought through Christian channels were not to be considered witchcraft. Gifford’s works contain rare descriptions of the Essex witch-trials.

Guazzo, Francesco Maria
Compendium Maleficarum or Collection on Witches (1608)
Francesco Guazzo was an Ambrosian monk considered an expert on witchcraft and demonology. Federico Borromeo, Archbishop of Milan between 1595 and 1631 and later a cardinal, requested that Guazzo write Compendium Maleficarum. In 1605, Guazzo had been called to Germany because of his reputation as an expert demonologist. In Germany he was personally involved with various witchcraft trials, serving as a judge. He returned to Milan in 1608 and presented Compendium Maleficarum to the archbishop. It immediately became a standard text for witch-hunters and judges, used by lawyers and church official for making arguments and rendering decisions during trials.
Guazzo acknowledges in the text that some women accused of attending sabbats had witnesses who saw them simultaneously home in bed. However, Guazzo points out that these alibis aren’t proof that the witches weren’t at the sabbat, for two reasons:


Witches can magically journey in their dreams.

Satan is perfectly capable of creating a “false body” that impersonates the witch well enough to fool her husband and children, making it look like she’s home while really she’s reveling.
Using Guazzo’s arguments, it’s virtually impossible to provide an alibi or prove innocence. It wasn’t necessary, incidentally, to read the Compendium Maleficarum either closely or in full to be influenced by it. Its very title subliminally sent a powerful message. Maleficarum is the feminine form of the Latin term for witches, which subtly reinforced the notion that witches were largely, if not exclusively, female. In fact, it wasn’t necessary to read Compendium Maleficarum at all in order to understand its underlying message. Compendium Maleficarum is essentially an extension and update of Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger’s Malleus Maleficarum (1486). Guazzo’s work also shows the influence of other witch-hunting authors like Martin del Rio and Nicholas Remy. However, unlike these other books the Compendium is a picture book. The other manuals presuppose a fairly high level of literacy. None of these books are easy to read. The language is specialized; they’re full of convoluted legal arguments and theology. Unlike English witch-trial pamphlets, these handbooks were intended as texts for attorneys, clergymen, and judges, not for the average reader. The Compendium Maleficarum however doesn’t demand literacy at all; the book is illustrated with a series of provocative, stereotypical and frequently sordid woodcuts depicting witchcraft, demons, and maleficia. The images remain familiar today; they’re used to illustrate countless books on witchcraft. The illustrations, perhaps even more than the text, made the Compendium Maleficarum an extremely influential book.
See CREATIVE ARTS: Visual Arts: Medieval Woodcuts.

Gui, Bernardo
The Inquisitor’s Manual (c. 1324)
Bernardo Gui (1261–1339) was Inquisitor in Toulouse between 1307 and 1323 and took personal credit for at least 930 convictions of heresy, although not necessarily of witchcraft. His book’s main targets were Jews who had converted to Christianity but then “relapsed.” It describes methods to be used by the Inquisition and set a precedent for witchcraft trials as well as trials for heresy. Gui makes an appearance, allegedly very much in character, as the witchhunting Inquisitor of Umberto Eco’s novel The Name of the Rose. Among his suggestions, Gui proposes that the Inquisition investigate “women who ride out at night.”

James I, King of England
The Daemonologie (1603)
The Daemonologie attracted great attention, not least because its author was the king. It contains little fresh material and is mainly a reworking of various continental witch-hunters’ manuals. James I had long held a passionate fear of and fascination for witchcraft. His ascent to the throne united the crowns of England and Scotland. In his other incarnation as King James VI of Scotland, James had participated in various witchcraft trials, most notoriously those of the North Berwick witches, accused and convicted of plotting against the throne. Scotland had a history of brutal witch panics, second in intensity perhaps only to Germany; England, on the other hand, had a relatively mild attitude towards witchcraft with little focus, until James’ arrival, on demonology.
James was so enraged by Reginald Scot’s The Discoverie of Witchcraft (see page 145) that he ordered every single copy of the book burned by the public hangman. Daemonologie was intended as a refutation of Scot’s work, written in the year of James’ ascension to the throne of England. It was popular enough to justify publication of a second edition in 1651.

Kramer, Heinrich and James Sprenger
Malleus Maleficarum or Hexenhammer or The Hammer of the Witches (1486)
The most influential witch-hunters’ manual of all is often popularly described as the “witchhunter’s Bible,” however it might better be considered the witch-hunters’ Mein Kampf. For years, it outsold every other book except for the Bible.
The Hammer of the Witches, to use the English translation of the title, is a long tract written in Latin by two Dominican scholars, published in Cologne in 1486. The Malleus Maleficarum is a practical textbook, whose primary focus is legal advice on how to bring witches to trial and convict them.
Although it was not the first manual offering advice to those judging witch trials, it quickly became the most influential of such works and might be considered the first comprehensive guide to identifying, interrogating, torturing, convicting, and burning witches. It served as source material, inspiration, and justification for countless other treatises. In essence, without The Hammer of the Witches this section of The Element Encyclopedia of Witchcraft might not exist and most probably the section devoted to witch-hunting would be substantially briefer. The Hammer of the Witches provided primary source material for the Inquisition.
The authors were not unfamiliar with the Inquisition, although certainly not from the perspective of the persecuted. Heinrich Kramer, once spiritual director of the Cathedral at Salzburg, was appointed Inquisitor for southern Germany in 1474. (Heinrich Kramer is sometimes known as Institoris, the Latin version of Kramer.) His partner, Jacob (or James) Sprenger, Dean of Theology at the University of Cologne, became Inquisitor for the Rhineland in 1470. Eventually he would be General Inquisitor for the German lands. The first major witch-hunt in Germany, the Ravensburger persecution of 1484, inspired Kramer to write The Hammer of the Witches. It was first printed in 1486. There were 13 editions by 1520 and 16 more by 1669.
The Malleus Maleficarum has a preface in the form of a papal bull (a bull is an official decree) from Pope Innocent VIII, essentially a Vatican seal of approval. This proclaimed to readers, most of whom were theologians and professional witch-hunters and judges, that this was more than just another book. It appeared to be an official Vatican publication.
The Malleus Maleficarum was revolutionary in how directly and exclusively it identified witchcraft with the female sex. Although the stereotype certainly existed prior to publication, it essentially hammered the point home so that it could not be avoided. It casts women in an extremely negative light and maliciously so. The Malleus Maleficarum falsely derives the word “feminine” from “fe” (faith) and “minus” (minus, less, lack). Women, according to the Malleus Maleficarum, are inherently lacking in faith but insatiable with carnal desire and hence vulnerable to the devil’s administrations in a way that men cannot be.
The book states that disbelief in the existence of witches and witchcraft is heresy. Also, according to the book, witchcraft is the most evil of all crimes and the most abominable of all heresies.
When investigating witchcraft, not all forms of torture are acceptable, although perhaps not for reasons you might think. Malleus Maleficarum bans hot iron and boiling water ordeals, which had previously been used, because the devil might use these methods to help a witch escape unscathed. (Various cold water ordeals might be substituted.) Although the book doesn’t go into further detail, various shamanic traditions, to this day, use hot iron and boiling water as demonstrations of power and ritual possession. Whether Kramer and Sprenger were aware of these traditions or had seen demonstrations is unknown.
The Malleus Maleficarum remains in print. It has been translated into English, French, German, and Italian. Although written by Dominicans, the tract was accepted by Lutheran and Calvinist authorities as well as Catholic, perhaps one of the only things, along with witchcraft, with which they were all in agreement. Interestingly, the Spanish Inquisition, which was under distinct management from Europe’s other Inquisitions, was not overly impressed with the Malleus Maleficarum and skeptical of its value.

Lancre, Pierre de
A View of the Duplicity of the Messengers of Evil (1613)
This work was published in Paris as a justification of witch-hunter Pierre de Lancre’s (c.1553–1630) merciless persecution of the French Basques in 1608. De Lancre’s book gives extensive details of the diabolical sabbat, and drags out every stereotype of cannibal, devil’s ass-kissing witches. De Lancre’s book, like the Malleus Maleficarum is virulently hostile to women and particularly prurient. Far more is revealed about de Lancre’s sexual fantasies than about any aspect of witchcraft. It also includes attacks on Jews, whom he describes as Christianity’s oldest enemy.
The book does contain what may be the only known pre-twentieth-century reference to an “esbat.” De Lancre claims a French witch used the word to describe a gathering of witches. It’s not necessary to actually read the book incidentally; an engraving by the artist I. Ziarko graphically depicting the diabolical sabbat complete with witches in attendance, appeared as a double-page spread in the second edition of the book so that the illiterate could still appreciate the message.

Mather, Cotton
Late Memorable Providences Relating to Witchcraft and Possessions (1689)
The Reverend Cotton Mather (February 12, 1663–February 13, 1728) was a profound believer in diabolical witchcraft and involved in many of the New England witch trials, including those in Salem Village. He preached a sermon in Boston in 1689 entitled “A Discourse on Witchcraft.” The sermon was included in a larger collection of writings entitled Late Memorable Providences Relating to Witchcraft and Possessions.
Reverend Mather was highly influential in the Massachusetts Bay Colony; at a time and place where the variety of reading material was limited, Reverend Mather’s work was highly circulated, discussed, and respected. Three years after publication, Salem Village erupted in its notorious witch panic. Mather’s work breaks no new ground but is consistent with those of his contemporaries in Britain.

Perkins, William
Discourse on the Damned Art of Witchcraft (1608)
Reverend William Perkins (1555–1602) was an English Puritan preacher and author of this 1608 guidebook for witch-hunters. The book established criteria for what constituted “legitimate” suspicion of witchcraft:


Those who consort, are affiliated with or closely associate with witches are most likely witches too, thus encouraging arrests of husbands, children, siblings, parents, and other relatives of suspected witches.

If someone is cursed and then dies, the curser should immediately be arrested and charged with witchcraft.

Deathbed accusations of witchcraft must be heeded.
Perkins writes that because all evil things written about witches are true, severe torture is justified to extract confessions. Essentially there is to be zero tolerance of snippy, evasive witches. All witches, regardless of crime or circumstances, warrant equal punishment: the worst. Perkins writes
by witches we understand not those onely which kill and torment: but all Diviners, Charmers, Juglers, all Wizzards, commonly called wise men and wise women…in the same number we reckon all good Witches which doe no hurt, but good, which doe not spoile and destroy, but save and deliver.

Remy, Nicholas
Demonolatry (1595)
Nicholas Remy (1534–1612) was a French priest and attorney. In 1570, he served in the Inquisitorial tribunals in Alsace. He became privy councilor to the Duke of Lorraine in France. In 1591, he became Lorraine’s attorney general and presided as judge over witchcraft trials for the next 15 years. Remy was also involved with werewolf trials. He was proud to boast that he was personally responsible for the deaths of 900 witches between 1581 and 1591. According to him, this was his life’s greatest accomplishment. Perhaps he could have made it an even thousand but an epidemic in 1592 caused him to flee to his country estate where, at his leisure, Remy compiled a treatise on demonology based largely on his own personal experiences. The book was published to great popular acclaim, enough to warrant eight reprintings, and was translated into German. Among Remy’s arguments is that trial judges and magistrates are immune to witchcraft by virtue of their office and the divine sanction obtained by royal appointment.
Demonolatry’s title comes from its focus on the diabolical relationship between witches, demons, and Satan. According to Remy, Satan craved Black Masses and manifested to people in the form of a black man or animal. Demons could enter into sexual relationships with women. If the women would not be seduced, then the demons would rape them.

Scot, Reginald
The Discoverie of Witchcraft (1584)
Reginald Scot (1538–1599) lead the skeptical opposition to the witch-hunts. Scot does a case-by-case analysis of the realities and illusions of witchcraft and witch-hunting. It is perhaps the earliest “rational” approach to the witch-hunts. He reveals tricks of conjuring (illusion) and so refutes notions of diabolism. It encourages the notion that if witchcraft is only conjuring and thus not “real,” it’s not really witchcraft and so should be safe from persecution. Scot’s book is credited with saving lives. A chapter of the book is devoted to criticism of alchemy. Scot’s book so aggravated King James VI of Scotland that he ordered all copies burned and was inspired to write his own treatise on the subject after he became King James I of England.

Spee, Friedrich
Cautio Criminalis or Circumspection in Criminal Cases, also published as A Book on Witch Trials (1631)
Friedrich Spee (February 25, 1591–August 7, 1635) was a Jesuit assigned to be the confessor for those condemned to die as witches in Wurzberg in the 1620s. What he heard convinced him that the unfortunate souls were innocent of the crimes of which they were accused. Cautio Criminalis was first published as an anonymous attack of the witch-hunts. He described torture in (non-prurient) detail, particularly the use of the rack. Spee did not deny the existence of witchcraft or even demand the abolition of the trials. Instead he demanded legal reform and an end to hysteria, panic, torture, and lies. Spee is among the heroes of the German witch-hunts. Many experts believe that his book was instrumental in abolishing the witch trials in various places, such as Mainz, and helped stop or at least reduce the terrible slaughter in Germany.

Weyer, Johann
De Praestigiis Daemonum (1563)
Weyer (1515–1588), also known as Wierus, was a student of the theologian and magical scholar Cornelius Agrippa. He was personal physician to the Duke of Düsseldorf. Although other books had debated the reality of various aspects of witchcraft and demonology, Weyer’s was the first to deny the reality of witches altogether. According to Weyer, witches were not recruited and made no pact with the devil; however the whole notion of supernatural witches was a diabolical illusion. In other words, the devil, whose existence he does not deny, is responsible for the witch panic and witch-hunters are playing into his hands. The witch-hunters might be said to be operating under a diabolical illusion or they might be construed as collaborating with Satan themselves. In response, French witch-hunter Jean Bodin suggested that Weyer be burned for witchcraft. Virtually every contemporary demonologist, Catholic or Protestant (Weyer was Lutheran) attacked his suggestions and his reputation.
Weyer did not dispute the existence of malevolent sorcery, nor did he suggest that those guilty of that crime go unpunished. However, he claimed that witchcraft as presented by the witch-hunters, complete with supernatural powers and demonic pact, was an impossibility. Instead he believed the witch-hunts to be misguided attacks on harmless, if perhaps crazy, old women. (Weyer is believed among the first to use the term “mentally ill.”)
Weyer published his work in 1563 in Latin and continued to publish expanded editions in 1564, 1566, 1577, and 1583. He also translated an abridged version into German in 1566, which was reprinted in 1567 and 1578.

Botanicals (#ulink_8a94eeb4-f537-5b6f-a384-d130ce48fa00)
Although every plant on Earth possesses its own magic powers, some are specifically identified with witchcraft. These make up the majority of the plants featured within this section. (A few exceptions are those significant to the history of witchcraft.)
Imagine the first people on Earth, wandering through primordial forests, overwhelmed by this green world. In the beginning, there must have been too many plants of which to keep track but after a while, as with anything, individual natures would emerge. Some plants were discovered to be wonderfully nutritious or seductively delicious. Others were sources of water when none else could be found. Some plants were fonts of healing. Some eased labor pains, stimulated milk supply, or discouraged pregnancy when it was unwanted. Some plants just made you feel good. Inhaling their fragrance relieved your mind of worries. Inhaling other fragrances made you drop whatever else you might be doing and focus single-mindedly on romance instead. Other plants turned out to be the equivalent of keys: they opened the doors to other realms. Some provided portals to the spirits. And then there were those dangerous plants: should you taste even as little as a berry or perhaps just touch the wrong leaf before putting your fingers in your mouth, the results could be fatal. One definition of modern witchcraft is that it is the surviving remnants of Paleolithic spiritual traditions focused on sacred plants and the beverages brewed from them. Witches, then, are devotees but also ritual leaders—those experts who understand the nuances, gifts, and dangers of the most volatile plants.
Formerly sacred plants evolved into witchcraft plants. The plants didn’t change but attitudes towards them did. These plants, for one reason or another, tend to be ones that must be handled with care and expertise so as to avoid danger, damage, death, and disaster. Once upon a time, the skill and knowledge required to safely handle and manipulate these plants was admired.
In general, “witchcraft plants” fall into several categories. The following are not mutually exclusive. Many witchcraft plants fall into several categories at once.


Witchcraft plants offer power over life and death. Some exert powerful influences over the human reproductive system. These include fertility enhancers, menstrual regulators, herbal contraceptives, and abortifacients. Aphrodisiacs, those plants that promote sexual interest and ability, may be included in this category too.Just as some plants are identified with birth and life, others have associations with death, whether for spiritual reasons or because the particular plant is deadly poisonous, or both.

Some plants possess the power to intoxicate; they stimulate the euphoria sometimes crucial to shamanism, witchcraft, and some spiritual rituals. They stimulate joy, exultation, and feelings of well-being, at least temporarily.

The modern term “entheogen” describes substances that are gateways to visionary experiences. Used with knowledge, skill, and experience, these substances may unlock portals so that the shaman and witch can journey and fly.
Witchcraft plants include wild, uncultivated plants that resist domestication, prickly, stinging plants that assert powerful boundaries, and poisonous and psychoactive plants. Many witchcraft plants are associated with the moon and with female reproduction and sexuality.

Warning
With the exception of linguists, most people’s current knowledge of Anglo-Saxon extends no further than a few select four-letter words. However, it’s vital to be familiar with at least one other four-letter word, at least before you play with any plants: BANE. Pay attention when you see or hear that word: it is a warning of danger. Bane derives from the Old German bano meaning death. Bane implies that a plant is poisonous enough to cause death.
Folk names tend to describe something about a plants’ use; plants with “bane” in their name frequently recall the identity of those plants’ primary victim, hence henbane or wolfsbane. However, beware: any plant with “bane” anywhere in its name is poisonous to some degree. That’s how it earned that name.
Important: the plants in this section are included for historical purposes. Experimentation with plants, particularly with those known to be dangerous, is not encouraged. Those who are fascinated with plants might consider enrolling in the various academies of botanical knowledge or an apprenticeship with an acknowledged master.
Poisonous plants may be even more lethal today for two reasons. Firstly, lack of knowledge. We don’t really know how or even if our ancestors administered the following plants. Practitioners were killed and chains of transmission destroyed. Their methods may have been very different from our own. Although they lacked our technical capacity, their knowledge of fine botanical nuances was almost certainly greater.
As an example, to this day traditional Chinese medicine, a still-thriving millennia-old discipline, discourages treatment by one single herb. Botanicals are almost always combined to create a buffering, synergistic effect. (Synergism means that the whole, the end result, is greater than the sum of its parts.) It is very possible that once upon a time ancient practitioners, skilled herb-witches, knew how to combine dangerous plants in such a way that they buffered each other, antidoted each other and made administration of individually poisonous substances possible. We no longer have this knowledge; it may be lost for ever.
Secondly, concentration and isolation. Modern understanding of plants and nature is very different from what it once was. Today we know that every botanical contains various phyto-hormones and chemical constituents including alkaloids that provide its various physical effects. In other words, once upon a time we knew that belladonna was toxic; now we know why it’s toxic, which chemical constituents are responsible for its poisonous effect. These chemical constituents can now be isolated and concentrated. The effect of the chemical constituent on its own is almost certainly more potent and concentrated than when left as part of a complex system of interlocking components. There are herbalists who will only work with whole plants believing that any form of concentration of plant powers, including essential oils, is dangerous.
Modern scientific inclination is to isolate individual chemical constituents, refine and concentrate them, so that medicine can be standardized. Standardized synthetics may also be created that are even more potent than the whole plant. The disadvantage is that by isolating a single chemical constituent, we may remove buffering that provided a measure of safety. These standardized, concentrated forms do not occur in nature and may, in fact, not be safer. The classic example is ephedrine, the nowbanned dietary supplement derived from ephedra, a plant used medicinally since at least Neolithic times.

Safety Tips

Never use any botanicals without expert professional supervision. This extends to more than just standard internal administration. Even handling certain plants can be dangerous.

Do not wildcraft (i.e., don’t harvest from wild places), for two reasons:

1 This is the botanical equivalent of poaching animals; many botanicals are severely endangered in the wild.
2 Plants can be deceptive. It’s very, very easy to assume that one is picking one plant when one is, in fact, picking another. This is particularly true with mushrooms, who bear reputations as tricksters, sometimes deadly ones. The classic example occurred in Northern California. Japanese mushroom experts, visiting the area, brought their harvest home and prepared them for dinner and were promptly poisoned, some fatally. They were genuinely experts: what they picked was absolutely identical to mushrooms that were safe in Japan, except that the Californian variant was lethal.
Botanicals have local and folk names; these are the names they’ve been called in a specific language or region. Many of these folk names are very revealing; they tell you something about the plant’s nature and uses. However, many folk names are shared. Half a dozen plants are known as motherwort; the only thing they may have in common is that they’re beneficial in some aspect of maternity, whether conception, birth, or nursing. If you ask for motherwort, you may receive any one of these half dozen plants, at least one of which is also a powerful cardiac stimulant. However, each and every plant has only one Latin designation. That Latin designation is used internationally to describe only one single plant. Latin designations are the lingua franca, the common language of the worldwide botanical community. For safety’s sake, because otherwise you may have no idea what plant you’re working with and many plants have profound and sometimes dangerous physical effect, always use the plants’ Latin classification.
Corn, rye, and other grains, as well as ergot fungus, are discussed in ERGOT. Fly agaric mushrooms (Amanita muscaria) are discussed below.

Alder
(Alnus spp.)
Other English names include: black alder, red alder, and owler. In Danish, its name is synonymous with “elf king” while in German it’s called the Walpurgis tree or Walpurga.
Despite the confusing similarity in names, alders are not the same as elders, although both species of trees have powerful associations with witches and elves.
Alder is a moderately sized tree indigenous to the British Isles and most of Europe, all the way across Russia to Siberia. Alder is also native to the Caucasus, Turkey, and North Africa, from Morocco to Tunisia. It was introduced to the Western Hemisphere during the Colonial Era and is naturalized in eastern Canada and the United States. (Some species of alder are also indigenous to the Andes region.) It is an extremely common tree and is now understood as an ecologically valuable tree because of its ability to improve the fertility of soil by fixing nitrogen from the air, although for centuries alder was a tree of ill repute.
Alder is unique for several reasons:


Alder is renowned for its proclivity for water. Alder thrives in bogs, marshes, and swamps where other trees can’t grow. Alders are allegedly attracted to water, hence the use of its wood for dowsing rods. Because its wood doesn’t rot in water, it was perceived as a particularly powerful and valuable tree. Neolithic houses were built on alder stilts, as are the shacks of swamp witches. The city of Venice was built on alder. Alder loves and is beloved by water spirits and is believed to provide safety to their devotees.
Alder is identified with water and with the color red. Water is the element most associated with magic, with the moon, witchcraft, and feminine power. Red is the color of blood and hence identified with birth (babies arrive amidst blood), death, menstrual mysteries, witchcraft, and women’s power.

Alder “bleeds.” When alder is struck or cut, its pale heart wood gradually turns red. The modern scientific explanation is that this phenomenon is caused by the effects of nitrogen. The obvious nonscientific explanation is that the red color represents blood, although whose and under what circumstances has been subject to interpretation. The initial explanation, based on folklore, herbal, and magical traditions, seems to have been that alder menstruated like a woman, making it a rare, magically powerful and protective tree, and leading to its association with female deities and women’s enchantments.
Later, particularly in Northern lands alder came to be understood as inhabited by spirits. It is the spirits who bleed and mourn (and are angered) when the tree is cut. These spirits include the elven king but especially his daughter.
Alder’s identification with the color red is increased by its annual production of red catkins—so-called because of their perceived resemblance to cats’ tails. (In actuality, these are the tree’s berries.)
Alders represent the goddess or the witch in her guise as hag or crone. The Earth Mother, the Great Mother, both gives birth and accepts the dead back into her womb, her cauldron of regeneration where souls are renewed and born again. The alder shares the essence of the Great Mother who welcomes the dead. It is a tree of death but also of resurrection.
Traditionally witches meet beneath alders. Alders, like elder, contains portals to other realms, such as those of the elves, fairies, and the dead. These thresholds are concealed within the tree but will open to those who know how to find them (and even perhaps, by accident, to innocent bystanders!).


Alder is known as the Walpurgis tree because German witches allegedly ate alder buds during their flight to the Brocken mountain on Walpurgis Night.

Witches used alder branches to stir up and control the weather.

Alder was particularly associated with red-haired witches. Allegedly, alder wood in the hands of a red-headed woman supernaturally boosted her own magic powers.

Italian witches blended alder sap with madder to produce vivid red dyes that were used to color the scarlet ribbons, charm bags, and clothing so prized by Italian witchcraft.

In Italy, alder wood is incorporated into the May Eve bonfires.

In Ireland, the tree was used for divination, especially for diagnosis of the magical or spiritual roots of illness. In Irish tradition, it is forbidden to cut an alder. Many still hesitate today.

Magical flutes, pipes, and whistles were carved from alder. Oracle flutes, instruments of divination, previous to being carved from alder, were formed from the bones of sacrificial victims.
Post-Christianity alder’s reputation grew ominous and negative. The bleeding tree’s magic blood was explained as a reminder of the crucifixion.
Most of alder’s uses were for ritual and magic (and feminine magic at that) and so it wasn’t considered a “practical” botanical. Hildegard of Bingen described it as a “useless tree.” There were a few exceptions: in Scotland, alder was prized for fine furniture. Scottish Bog Alder was also known as “Scottish mahogany” and was considered a luxury wood.
Alder is also a crucial component of many natural dyes. Depending upon the part of the plant, alder is used to make black, green, and red dyes as well as to tan leather.
According to the old medicinal law of similars, like is used to cure like. Just as with the similar-sounding elder, alder, the tree of witch-craft, is used to prevent and ward off witchcraft. Alder’s main medieval uses were to protect against witches and vermin (fleas, lice, and mice; the sticky leaves may catch resident fleas).
A traditional remedy suggests that inner alder bark simmered in wine serves as an antidote against magic potions. On Walpurgis Night, branches of alder were crossed and placed against doors to prevent witches flying overhead from landing and entering. (Although the Walpurgis tree is so identified with witches’ activities on this night, one wonders if this tradition isn’t a distortion of some old witchcraft practice.)
See also Elder; CALENDAR: Walpurgis; PLACES: The Brocken.

Amanita Muscaria or Fly Agaric
(Amanita muscaria)
Other names: Witches’ Eggs
Amanita muscaria, also commonly called fly agaric, is not a botanical. It is a fungus, a type of mushroom. However, these are modern classifications. Ancient people looked for similarities of essence as well as for differences and distinctions. Mushrooms were (and are) used similarly to botanicals and so it is classified here amongst the botanicals.
Even if you know next to nothing about mushrooms or botanicals, even if you don’t know what’s so special about Amanita muscaria, it’s pretty certain that you’re familiar with what it looks like even if you don’t recognize its name. You may never have seen a real one, but you’ve undoubtedly seen its picture. Amanita muscaria are the big red speckled mushrooms known as toadstools that are inevitable components of folkloric imagery. Look at traditional illustrations of witches, dwarfs, or fairies and you’ll likely find at least one amanita tucked into a corner.
Mushrooms were understood as very special and powerful. Mushrooms pop up overnight directly from Earth or emerge from tree trunks, fully grown as if by magic. Some have psychotropic properties; many are poisonous, some to the point of fatality.
In Germany, mushrooms in general are known as hexensessel or “witch’s chair.”
Psychotropic mushrooms, of which Amanita muscaria is the classic example, have historically been used in spiritual rituals worldwide. In fact there are scholars who believe that Amanita muscaria may have initially inspired a vast proportion of all human spiritual traditions and religions.
Among the traditions that some believe derive from mushroom cults are the Eleusinian Mystery religion, various ancient Egyptian traditions, Judaism and Christianity. Some scholars believe that Amanita muscaria was the mysterious biblical manna as well as Jesus Christ’s “bread of life.” There is even a Dead Sea Scrolls’ scholar who has suggested that New Testament references to Jesus are actually euphemisms, eventually forgotten, misunderstood, and distorted, for Amanita muscaria, hence the emphasis on the host as sacrament. Others believe that soma, the mysterious brew of the Aryan people of India mentioned in the Rig Veda, is really amanita.
Amanita’s associations with shamanism and ancient religion are so primordial and powerful that they transcend associations with witchcraft. Thus, images of Amanita muscaria show up everywhere, in Easter imagery as much as in Halloween’s. Folkloric toys are created in the form of these mushrooms—I have a Polish carved wooden toy amanita. You remove the polkadotted red roof to reveal carved wooden soldiers within. Even though amanita is poisonous, its image proliferates in children’s books, not as scary images like spiders but friendly ones. (Can you imagine artists blithely submitting similar images of datura or wolfsbane?) Those dancing mushrooms in Disney’s Fantasia? Amanita muscaria. Some even believe that the image of Santa Claus in his red and white suit may be a coded reference to amanita. Certainly his reindeerdriven sleigh can only be a reference to the cultures of the far north, where Amanita muscaria is intrinsically tied to shamanism, with reindeers integral to the ritual. (You’ll find out why below.) Santa’s habit of going up and down chimneys is also strangely reminiscent of shamans’ and witches’ flight.
Fly agaric is not uncommon throughout Eurasia and North America. It prefers poor soils, growing in marshes or along roads. It grows near birch, fir or pine trees, and is a traditional component of Siberian shamanism, where it’s sometimes called “lightning mushroom.” Based on linguistic studies, its use in that region may go back at least as far as 4000 BCE.
Amanita muscaria provokes a state of intoxication and allegedly opens portals to other realms. It has traditionally been used for divination, to contact spirits or journey to other realms and to locate lost, stolen or missing objects, especially those believed hidden in Earth.
Although Amanita muscaria is highly toxic, historically certain methods of preparation make it safer for use. Ibotenic acid, one of the psychotropic chemicals in amanita, is almost wholly retained in urine and not used by the body. (This is not true of its other chemical constituents, including the poisonous atropine and muscarine.) The traditional method of use, among the Finno-Ugric people of Finland, Lapland, and Siberia was to drink the urine of reindeer, which ate the mushrooms. (Reindeer may even have taught people about Amanita muscaria.) Reindeer meat may also be eaten in order to receive the hallucinatory experience. This is traditionally believed to be the safest method of use.
Amanita muscaria is among the ingredients cited in formulas for witches’ flying ointments. However, it is not among the magical ingredients traditionally cited in medieval grimoires. Shamans desired to meet, commune, consort, and battle with spirits; medieval sorcerers just wanted to boss them around.
Medieval sorcerers, with all their emphasis on commanding and compelling spirits, weren’t interested in using substances that couldn’t be commanded as well. Amanita is, to say the least, unpredictable. It is also potentially fatal. It is not safe for individual experimentation under any circumstances, nor has it ever been considered appropriate for solitary sorcery. Instead amanita’s use has historically been restricted to shamanism and to those folk magic practices directly descended from shamanism.
Because it is potentially fatal, Amanita muscaria has historically been a component of group ritual supervised by sober observers. Because dosage is so crucial, because the amanita cannot be standardized, and because there’s no room for mistakes, amanita lore has always been transmitted orally and within shamanic channels.
According to Russian folklore, the presiding spirits of these mushrooms manifest in the form of small red tubular beings who are able to communicate with those under amanita’s influence. (The mushroom may be understood as providing a portal for communicating with these spirits.) These spirits can be helpful and provide information, however they are also reputed to be wild tricksters with a taste for mean practical jokes, funny to them perhaps but tragic for their target. They may try to persuade the consumer of the mushroom to do potentially dangerous things—one more reason why sober supervision is so crucial.
Vivid red Amanita muscaria with its white polka dots may be understood as the mushroom equivalent of Amazonian poison arrow frogs. Its bold color announces its poisonous nature.
Decoctions of Amanita muscaria have historically been used to kill flies, hence it is also commonly called fly agaric. Amanita muscaria’s many other nicknames reflect its background in shamanism and witchcraft. Words used to name fly agaric are frequently connected to words for that shamanic tool the drum, and to toads. The common rationale for toad references has to do with childlike images of toads sheltering from the rain under large umbrella-like toadstools. However, among the chemical components isolated from Amanita muscaria is bufotenine a secretion otherwise found in toads’ skins.

Apples
(Malus pumila or Pyrus malus)
Apples are magical fruits. Slice them in half horizontally and the star or pentacle secretly hidden within is revealed. In ancient days, apples were associated with love, lust, and pleasure, but eventually love, lust, and pleasure fell out of grace and apples became identified with witches and the devil.
The most famous apple of all may be the one with which Eve tempted Adam; the story is often told as if the apple were a euphemism for sex. Apples were already long associated with love, sex, and forbidden pleasures when Christianity came to prominence, whereupon translations then identified the apple as the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. However, apples are native to temperate regions and are not indigenous to the region where Bible stories were first told. Many biblical scholars are absolutely certain that apples were not the forbidden fruit (figs, quinces, and pomegranates are the front-runners, although of course the argument has been made that all trees existed in the Garden of Eden, therefore the forbidden fruit could be anything).
Apples became synonymous with sex, sin, and feminine wiles. Fairy-tale apples, like the one the wicked witch-queen feeds Snow White, look seductively beautiful and innocently tasty but are secretly poisonous and perversely dangerous. Apples remained prized love spell ingredients—there are literally hundreds of love spells featuring little more than apples. Perhaps for this reason, apples became classified as more than just a food; they were witches’ tools, especially those bright scarlet apples.

Belladonna
(Atropa belladonna)
Atropa belladonna has many names: banewort, deadly nightshade, devil’s cherry, dwale, but most popularly belladonna which means “beautiful lady,” a surprisingly innocuous, even seductive name for such a deadly plant. The standard explanation for this folk name says that it derives from an extract made from the berry’s juice that was used in ladies’ eyes during the Renaissance to create a dilated “doe-eyed” expression, which was, at that time, considered very beautiful and seductive.
However, centuries previously, belladonna was sacred to the Roman war deity, Bellona, daughter of Mars. The plant was considered under her dominion and to share her essence. Ancient Roman priests allegedly drank some sort of elixir containing belladonna prior to ritual appeals to Bellona. The word belladonna contains the name Bellona within it, and it may have been a euphemistic pun on her name so that one could refer to her without actually calling upon this beautiful but fearsome Lady. Belladonna, like the goddess Bellona, is a beautiful but lethal killer.
Belladonna’s genus name Atropa honors Atropos, one of the three Fates, whose name means “the dreadful,” “the merciless,” or “the cutter.” Atropos is the Fate who cuts or terminates the thread of life.
All parts of the belladonna plant are poisonous including flowers, leaves, and roots. However the berries are the most virulently poisonous part of all: as few as three can kill a child. Do you remember those advisory stories reminding you not to assume that because birds can eat berries, that those same berries are safe for human consumption? Belladonna berries are the perfect example; many birds munch on the berries with impunity, something that is impossible for humans and for many mammal species.
Belladonna is a member of the nightshade family and is frequently equated with Deadly Nightshade. The names may or may not be used to indicate the same species. Various types of nightshade do exist that are also deadly, including Black Nightshade (Solanum nigrum) and Russian Nightshade (Scopolia carniolica), also known as Russian belladonna.
The primary toxin is the alkaloid atropine, which first stimulates the nervous system, then paralyzes it, causing muscular convulsions. Belladonna may also cause hallucinations, cramps, severe headache, mental stupor and, of course, death. Fly agaric (Amanita muscaria, see page 152) is the traditional antidote, however, it, too, is potentially fatally poisonous and the antidote must be administered at an incredibly fine, delicate balance and only by a skillful, professional hand.
Belladonna is a perennial that grows rampant among ruins and in wastelands. It is still found in this manner in Great Britain. It is rarely found wild in North America but is instead a cultivated plant. As its name implies, it has lovely flowers and so is often a prized component of poison gardens, where it may be appreciated visually and from a distance.
Belladonna’s alkaloids are used to make atropine, an eye medication. Until World War I belladonna was not an uncommon medicinal plant. Trained herbalists and pharmacists knew correct methods of use. The main pharmaceutical crop was derived from wild belladonna growing on stone ruins in the wilder regions of the old Austro-Hungarian Empire. It was used to treat asthma, sciatica, and various other disorders.
As a beautiful and dangerous plant, belladonna was beloved and prized by herbalist wise-women who marked their skill by their proficiency with such plants. (There is no margin for error; no room for smoke and mirrors. It is impossible to fake your ability and knowledge with plants such as these; the truth will immediately be demonstrated.)
According to ancient witchcraft traditions, belladonna is at the peak of its power on May Eve (Walpurgis Night), so European witches only picked it on that night, when it is at its most powerful and magical.
See also CALENDAR: Walpurgis; PLACES: The Brocken.

Birch
(Betula alba)
Other names: The Lady of the Woods
Birch trees are unusual: their bark is white unlike the more usual brown. Birches are the botanical equivalent of the sacred white doe or buffalo. They are symbolic of light, purity, healing, and magic.
Birch is the tree of birth and new beginnings. This isn’t merely mystical palaver but is based on some historical truth: birch trees are believed to have been the first to cover the land emerging from the Ice Age. Its use is certainly ancient; Ötsi, the Neolithic “Ice Man” who was found frozen in an Alpine glacier was carrying a birch bark bag when he perished. Birch is believed to epitomize female qualities. If oaks are essentially male, then birches are female. They are associated with powerful goddesses like Brigid and Sarasvati. Baba Yaga lives in the heart of a birch forest.
The name allegedly derives from Sanskrit bhurga, meaning “tree whose bark is used for writing upon.” Birch bark is used in that manner among various Native cultures of North America, most notably the Ojibwa, who put birch to many uses, but also in Russia, where birch bark “paper” is incorporated into spell-casting to leave messages for nature spirits.
Amanita muscaria mushrooms grow beneath birches so birches are closely identified with these hallucinogenic mushrooms. The mushrooms may be understood as gifts of the tree. Birch wine and beer are also made.
Various traditions illustrate the identification of birch trees with new beginnings:


The birch is the first tree in the Ogham alphabet (Beth).

Cradles are traditionally carved from birch wood to provide blessings and protection and a good start for a new baby.
As the tree of new life, the birch was frequently chosen to be the maypole. Birch is among the most traditional materials for crafting a witch’s broom.
Roman officials carried bundles of birch twigs as symbols of authority. A bundle of birch twigs with an axe in the center was known as a fascis and was originally intended as a symbol of generation and fertility. (Axes were symbols of rebirth and fertility deities, both male and female.) The fascis was appropriated by Mussolini and the word has since derived new meanings.
Once upon a time, bundles of birch twigs were used to slap cattle and women (gently!) to boost fertility and offer blessings and protection. Many horned deities carried similar bunches of birch twigs. English has no specific word for this bundle of birch twigs but in Hungarian the word virgàcs (pronounced veer-goch) names this item. Krampus, Santa Claus’ Central European “helper” is never without his virgàcs. The symbol also survives among the traditional accoutrements of the chimneysweep as well as among the birch twigs used to enhance the experience of the Finnish sauna.
See also DIVINE WITCH: Baba Yaga; HORNED ONE: Krampus; PLACES: Bathhouse.

Coca
(Erythroxylon coca)
The coca plant is indigenous to Bolivia and Peru and has a long history of ritual and magical use there. Cocaine, the illegal stimulant, is a derivative of the coca plant; indigenous ritual incorporated the whole plant, not refined, concentrated derivatives. There is tremendous resentment among traditional ritualists for the way their sacred plant has been manipulated, corrupted, and politicized. However, controversies centering on coca began shortly after the arrival of Spanish Conquistadors.
Caution! Potentially poisonous and, depending upon where you are, most likely to be illegal!
Coca use was discouraged by the Spanish, not because of its addictive qualities but because chewing coca leaves was associated with heathen devotion to the “huacas,” the indigenous sacred shrines. The danger associated with coca was perceived as spiritual, not physical. Coca was a reminder of Peru’s pagan past that the Inquisition preferred to erase. For the Spanish Inquisition, coca was the plant most identified with Peruvian witches and organized opposition to the new religion and regime. However, wealthy mine-owners wished to encourage coca’s use so as to stimulate worker productivity. On October 18, 1569, a compromise was reached when King Phillip II urged priests to beware of the use of coca in witchcraft and superstition but to allow its use as medicine, especially as a stimulant to encourage the heavy forced labor imposed upon the Indians.
Coca leaves were used in Peruvian love magic, as offerings to the spirits, and as an ingredient of psychotropic brews. Coca’s international associations with magic and stimulation, rather than with addiction, still existed during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when power potions first became popular in the United States, including the one that bears its name, Coca Cola®.
In 1630, an edict against stargazers (astrologers) and witches was posted on all church doors in Peru. Among their crimes, witches were accused of using “certain drinks, herbs, and roots” including coca, San Pedro, and datura.

Datura
(Datura spp.)
Datura names a widely distributed family of herbaceous shrubs with fragrant, trumpetshaped flowers and usually spiny seedpods. There are approximately 20 species of datura growing around the world. Common folk names include angel’s trumpet, devil’s trumpet, devil’s herb, horn of plenty, Jimsonweed and thorn apple. Many datura species have beautiful white flowers that bloom only at night, closing during the day—thus the plant possesses a profound lunar affiliation. Datura is cultivated for these beautiful flowers and various species remain staples of California’s botanical nurseries.
Most species of datura are indigenous to the Western Hemisphere, however several originated in Eurasia, most probably in the region around the Caspian Sea. It is abundant in Russia from the Black Sea regions through Siberia, but thrives everywhere with the exception of very cold regions. Datura is used ritually wherever it is found, including widespread regions of Africa, China, India, Mexico, and the North American southwest. Remains of seeds and seedpods found within a ritual context in South Texas, together with remains of other psychotropic plants, have been dated back to 2000 BCE.
Datura is used to hex and to break hexes, to induce sleep and visionary dreams. It has historically been used to communicate with other species, especially birds, and to enter other realms, especially that of the after-life. Unfortunately, it may be a one-way trip. Datura is deadly poisonous. Its active ingredient is hyoscyamine, which is similar to atropine but has a more powerful effect on the peripheral nervous system, causing powerful hallucinations.
Thorn apple is the form of datura most familiar in Western magic. Thorn apple (Datura stramonium) has been known in Europe since the sixteenth century, apparently introduced by the Romany who are believed to have been instrumental in datura’s spread through Europe.
The most notorious datura may be Jimsonweed, which is a corruption of Jamestown Weed. There are two versions of how this species of datura acquired that name:


In 1676, soldiers were sent to Jamestown in the Virginia colony to quell a local rebellion and somehow accidentally ate the plant. This was followed by an 11-day period of delirium. The news spread throughout the colonies and Britain and the name stuck.

The plant was named in honor of the first place in the American colonies where datura was deliberately cultivated for medical use.
Once upon a time datura was an important medicinal incorporated into treatment for madness, melancholia, and seizure disorders. Its no longer used as such; the toxicity rate was too high and safer replacements have been developed. In 1968, the United States banned the sale of over-the-counter preparations containing datura.

Elder
(Sambucus nigra)
The elder, known as the “witch tree,” is powerfully identified with witchcraft, the magical arts and goddess-oriented Pagan tradition.
The elder is a threshold tree: it serves as a portal that allows souls to pass between realms. Ghosts, spirits, and elves can pass into the mortal realm via elder trees and bushes but, remember, one-way signs don’t exist in the magical, shamanic world. Elders are also portals where you can access other realms.
In order to establish contact with other realms, try burning elder bark, blossoms, roots, and wood as incense. (If gathering botanical material yourself, remember to ask for permission from the plant first and always to leave a gift in return.)
The elder is sacred to the Germanic deity, Hulda, known affectionately as Mother Holle. Hulda was once an extremely prominent, important deity, so entrenched in people’s hearts that, unlike some other spirits, she was never entirely banished. Unable to completely eradicate her, local Christian authority dubbed her a Queen of Witches, with the immediate implication that all who were devoted to this queen were witches themselves. In Denmark, the elder tree itself is called Frau Hylle or Hyllemoer, Danish for Mother Holle or Frau Holle. In Anglo-Saxon it was known as Hylder or Hylantree. As part of Hulda’s ritual, circle dances were performed around the tree.
For the ancient Germans and Slavs, old elder trees, especially those that nestled close to a house, were the home of family ghosts. Because they are threshold trees, elders are often incorporated into funeral rites.


Heathen Frisians buried their dead underneath elders.

In England, grave-diggers traditionally carried elder wood so as to protect them from any malevolent ghosts lingering in the graveyard.

In other areas, it was customary for the driver of the hearse to carry a whip made of elder wood.
Perhaps because of associations with Hulda, elder became identified with witchcraft. Elder bushes personified witches. It was believed that witches could transform into elders as surely as they could assume the form of a cat. One single solitary elderberry bush popping up in an unexpected spot might actually be a witch in disguise—another reason to treat the elder with respect. Perhaps in the spirit of that old saying “it takes one to know one” elders are also powerful agents used to ward off malevolent spells.
Elders have a powerful reputation as protective trees, especially for fending off malevolent witchcraft. Traditionally fingernail parings, hair or teeth are buried beneath elders so as to prevent their use in malevolent spells. Afterbirths of calves and foals are buried beneath elders so that neither the new-born animals nor their mothers can be bewitched. (These practices may also be simultaneously understood as offerings to Mother Holle, the elves or the ancestors, depending upon whose spirit resides within the particular elder.)
Elder wood is carved into amulets to prevent unwanted enchantment. Green elder branches were also buried in a grave to protect the dead from witches and evil spirits.
Elder is incorporated into many spells, especially those for love and protection. A nickname for elder sap is “blood.” Sap was understood as literally the blood of the tree, in the same way that bark is its skin and leaves the tree’s hair. Because the elder was believed to house important spirits, to embody Hulda’s essence or to even be a witch in disguise, elder “blood” was potentially incredibly powerful, more powerful than most sap. Northern European spells that cite “blood” as an ingredient may, in fact, be requesting elder sap instead.
Elder is a short, bent, crooked tree that never grows very tall, hence the constant confusion between whether it’s a bush or a tree. It is not a tall, forbidding, imposing tree. Unlike other witchcraft plants, elderberries are not toxic but tasty and nutritious—as anyone who’s had elderberry preserves or wine can attest.
Unlike so many other witchcraft plants, elders are friendly plants; they’re understood as a tree that likes people and is by nature helpful and affectionate. (Spirits residing within may or may not be as friendly and benevolent: Frau Holle and the elves both possess reputations for volatility, although this may be in response to defamation and loss of respect and offerings.)
Elder’s roots among spiritual traditions of Northern Europe and its associations with spiritual entities and ancestral spirits were so powerfully entrenched that it created a dilemma for ascendant Christian authority. Attempts were made to either taint the tree as evil and diabolical, thus to be shunned by all righteous people, or to incorporate elder into Christian tradition, so that its use could continue under proper auspices. Both methods were historically tried.
In the days before the easy availability of wax and hence cheap candles, elder was a source of light.

Elder Candles

1 Slice the pith of elder branches into round shapes.
2 Dip these slices into oil.
3 Set the slices alight and carefully float them in water to create floating “candles.”
In areas where attachment to Hulda was particularly strong, attempts were made to brand the elder as an evil tree, something to be feared. The only people who would use elder with impunity were witches. (There may be some truth to this: because it was believed spiritually hazardous to harvest any part of the elder without requesting permission from the resident spirits, only those who knew how to do this, who remembered these practices and didn’t fear them, would be willing to gather twigs or berries.)
Elder retained its associations with paganism but now paganism was identified with the devil rather than with helpful deities. (One tradition from this era suggests that if you wanted to invite the devil over for a visit, burning an elder log in your fireplace officially extends an invitation.)
In an attempt to break chains of transmission, to seal up the portals and make people fear venturing near thresholds, Christian missionaries painted the elder as an evil tree. Various legends emerged:


An elder whip was used to scourge Jesus and that’s why elder’s branches bear cracks on the skin.

Judas committed suicide by hanging himself from an elder.

It was widely believed that Christ had been crucified on an elder wood cross, which is why the tree is now so stunted and bent.
On the other hand, in attempts to ingratiate the elder into Christianity and substitute associations for the pagan goddess with the Virgin Mary, another legend suggests that Mary hung Jesus’ swaddling clothes on elder branches under which she had sought protection from a storm. (There is a northern legend that lightning never strikes elders, although whether Mary would have known this in first-century Egypt or Judea, where the date palm or tamarisk is the primary sacred tree is impossible to verify.)
Regardless of these efforts, elder’s identity as a powerful spiritually charged plant was impossible to shake. Historically, date palms weren’t easy to obtain in Northern climates and so the elder, that ancient local sacred plant, was a frequent substitute. In Allgau, Germany, for instance, the cross for Palm Sunday “palms” was formed from elder branches instead.
See also CALENDAR: Midsummer’s.

Elm
(Ulmus campestris)
Elm trees are widely distributed, from as far south as Mexico, to as far north as the Himalayas. One species, the Scotch Elm (Ulmus montana) is also known as the Wych Elm. In German, however, the entire species of elms may be classed as “Hexenulme” or Witch’s Elm.
The elm has a reputation as a cranky tree, allegedly dropping branches onto people’s heads deliberately. Elms can be very tall and as such served as local landmarks. Meeting under an elm was an easy direction to follow because elms were frequently the tallest, most imposing trees around. Witches allegedly danced around elms, particularly on May Eve.
Romany magical tradition prizes the elm as a tree of particularly powerful enchantment. Romany magic wands are traditionally crafted from elm although the wood can never be cut but only received as a gift from the tree in the form of naturally fallen branches. (Frustrated because there is no fallen branch? If the tree wants to work with you, a branch will be available, perhaps falling directly onto your head. If not, that’s your signal to look elsewhere or to be patient.)
Elms were associated with death and passage into the realms of the Dead. Spirit guardians of burial mounds were believed to make their homes in elms. The wood was once used to craft coffins.

Enchanter’s Nightshade
(Circaea lutetiana or Circaea alpine)
This is Circe’s plant; the enchanter in question is the Greek witch-goddess Circe. Other names for it include Walpurgis Herb, Great Witch Herb, Sorcerer of Paris (the Trojan prince, not the city), Paris Nightshade, Magic Herb, and Great and Common Witch’s Herb. In German, it’s called Hexenkraut (Witches’ Herb); its Anglo-Saxon name was Aelfthone, as it was believed to counter elf-derived illnesses.
Despite its common folk name, it is not as toxic as other plants nicknamed Nightshade, such as Black Nightshade, Deadly Nightshade or Russian Nightshade. There are two species of Enchanter’s Nightshade. The most common—Circaea lutetiana—is from Eurasia. It grows best near streams and damp, marshy places, often associated with witchcraft and magic.
A variation of the species prefers higher altitudes. Alpine Enchanter’s Nightshade (Circaea alpine) is also called Circe of the Alps. Both plants are associated with hexes, binding charms, and love spells. Enchanter’s Nightshade was one of the plants whose possession was sufficient evidence to warrant accusation of witchcraft.

Henbane
(Hyoscyamus niger)
Hyoscyamus niger earned its English folk name because of the danger it posed to free ranging poultry. Among its other names are devil’s eye, god’s bean, henbell, hogbean, Insana, Jupiter’s bean, and poison tobacco.
Henbane is a biennial that was originally indigenous from Mediterranean regions through Asia Minor. It’s been transplanted to the United States where it now grows wild on wasteland, old, neglected gardens, cemeteries, and ruins.
Henbane’s active component is hyoscyamine. It is very dangerous when used excessively or over extended periods of time. The general consensus among the ancients was that excessive use of henbane caused madness and insanity. Henbane’s effect is similar to that of datura; however it was indigenous to regions of Europe where datura was unknown until late in the Middle Ages and so henbane was for centuries Europe’s most accessible, if secret, hallucinogen. (Toadstools—Amanita muscaria—were typically gathered from the wild; henbane is relatively easily cultivated.) For many generations it was the most prominent, beloved “witch plant” in Europe. It is also used similarly in Africa and India, although there it has more indigenous competition.
Henbane was once among the most important ritual plants of the German lands, sacred to Lord Balder. According to Germanic tradition, for optimum power the ritual harvesting of henbane must be accomplished by naked women, under the direction of magical spirits. This may indicate that the women are ritually channeling these spirits during the harvest.
Henbane was traditionally used for conjuring up those spirits as well as for divination. Henbane seeds were burned in European bathhouses, a place traditionally associated with divination and spell-casting, well into the Middle Ages. Henbane was also used as a charm in medieval weather magic. It was also once among the ingredients of a very popular medieval beer, one that apparently intoxicated in more ways than one.
All parts of the henbane plant are deadly poisonous. Allegedly even inhaling the scent of its fresh leaves may lead to intoxication and stupor. The dead in Hades were crowned with henbane wreathes, but then they were past worrying about it. Henbane is believed to have been the poison used to kill Hamlet’s father in Shakespeare’s play.
Although it is poisonous, henbane has historically had various medicinal uses and was believed beneficial for hernia, lung disorders, and pain relief—provided one had a herbal physician with enough skill and knowledge to administer it. Because it has narcotic properties, it has traditionally been used medicinally as an anesthetic and a sedative. It was used for various gynecological treatments. Traditional midwifery utilized henbane as a soporific during childbirth so as to create an early form of “twilight sleep.” The Irish name for Hyoscyamus niger is gafann. Meted out in very carefully measured doses, it was once valued in Irish herbalism for its anodyne and sedative properties.
During the era of the Inquisition possession and use of henbane was considered sufficient proof for conviction of witchcraft.

Juniper
(Juniperus communis)
Juniper is not poisonous. Every year, juniper trees are safely brought into the home at Christmas. Its berries are found among the spice aisles of food markets, not to mention as the primary flavoring in gin. Juniper is a component of many over-thecounter medical preparations, bath oils, herbal, and cosmetic products. However, it is not safe for use by pregnant women or by those actively attempting to conceive.
Juniper is an evergreen widely distributed throughout the Northern hemisphere, with a long history of use in magic, midwifery, herbal medicine, and the brewing of intoxicants. Like those other small trees, elder and rowan, juniper is simultaneously identified with witchcraft and an alleged guard against it.
Long ago, in Western Asia, juniper was associated with Lady Asherah and her daughters Anat and Astarte. Like those renowned, powerful goddesses, juniper is associated with birth, death, and prophetic ability.
Juniper earned its fame as an herbal menstrual regulator. For women who lacked periods or whose cycles were irregular, preparations of juniper could jump-start them onto the road to regularity and fertility. However, timing and need are everything: juniper was also famous as a contraceptive and herbal abortifacient. Depending upon one’s perspective, juniper was understood as a woman’s stalwart botanical ally, providing whatever she needed, or as an evil tree under the dominion of Satan.
Juniper is included in many love spells and aphrodisiac formulations. When administered to men, frequently in the form of a potion, it allegedly increases sexual prowess and irresistibility. When administered to women, especially if in the form of a bath or douche, as in the Hoodoo formulation known as Hot Mama for instance, it may be understood as being intended to have contraceptive effects. (There is as yet no conclusive scientific information verifying or disputing this historic folkloric use of juniper, although, pregnant women are strongly cautioned against its use.)
Juniper’s magical uses aren’t limited to love and reproduction: it was also burned to stimulate clairvoyance and for protection from disease. (The volatile oils released by the burning wood provide an antiseptic effect.) Even after World War I, French hospitals burned juniper branches alongside lavender to minimize rates of infection and the spread of disease. Juniper wood was traditionally included in Samhain bonfires to stimulate clairvoyance among those who inhaled its fumes.
Juniper was also believed by some to ward off witchcraft. If one understands “witchcraft” to be synonymous with malevolent magic, then the belief makes sense; however it remains ironic, because by the late Middle Ages and beyond in Central Europe, juniper had become almost exclusively associated with witches and midwives.
Juniper became famous for its use as an herbal contraceptive and abortifacient at a time when such things were against the law and believed by many to set one literally onto the road to Hell. This was particularly true of the subspecies Juniperus sabina, popularly known as savin or sabin, which grows in Alpine regions and Central Europe and is a particularly potent menstrual regulator. The phrase “giving birth under the savin” was a common euphemism used during the Middle Ages for induced miscarriage.
An eighteenth-century traveler visiting Swabia (now in modern Germany) writes that savin bushes served as a code, providing clear messages that couldn’t be spoken aloud. Savin bushes in a garden signaled that the garden belonged to either a midwife or a barber, who at the time also frequently offered abortion services. Desperate people stole entire bushes or raided them for materials. Local authorities, on the other hand, periodically destroyed savin bushes as preventive measures. Eventually in many Central European areas, the only savin bushes to be found were discreetly hidden among other plants on private property. Bushes on public property had all been destroyed. If the botanicals don’t exist, women can’t use them.
Do not be in a hurry to plant savin bushes or at least not for personal use. They are beautiful, fragrant, powerful plants. However, although juniper bushes survive, the skilled practitioners who knew their secrets did not. Like the other plants in this section, administration required an experienced practitioner with a skillful hand. The wrong dosage, by a very slight margin, could cause disaster. The Brothers Grimm story The Juniper Tree recounts the tale of a woman who, unable to conceive, makes a paganinfluenced sacrifice under her juniper tree. She conceives, but late in pregnancy (too late; she dies) she develops a desperate craving for juniper berries. The story is mysterious and indecipherable unless one understands the implications of that tree and those berries, inferences the Grimms’ sources would have immediately understood.
Juniper’s role as a component in intoxicating beverages remains today. It was once used to flavor whiskey. Genevrette is a French beer-like drink brewed from equal parts barley and juniper berries. The Dutch alcoholic beverage known as jenever eventually evolved into the English potion, gin.
See also CALENDAR: Samhain.

Mandrake
(Mandragora officinarum, also classified as Atropa mandragora)
Mandrake’s claim to fame lies in the magical resemblance of its roots to the human figure. Individual specimens are identifiably female or male (and a few very special ones may be both). There is no plant more identified with magic and witchcraft.
Mandrake’s main magical uses have to do with love, sex, fertility, and wish fulfillment. Because it has narcotic properties, mandrake also has a long history as an early anesthetic.
In Arabic, mandrake is known as Father of Life (referring to its fertility-inducing powers) and Djinn’s Egg or Devil’s Apple (these aren’t demonic references but are instead intended to refer to mandrake’s power as an aphrodisiac to provide forbidden pleasures. Islam has no demonology comparable to that of witch-hunt era Europe.) In Hebrew, the word for mandrake is translated as “love-apples,” referring to its aphrodisiac properties.
The mandrake plant is indigenous to Mediterranean regions, especially Crete, Sicily, and the Levantine coast, as well as Iraq, North Africa, and Spain. It grows wild and is not uncommon in these areas. Nineteenth-century missionaries traveling to the Middle East wrote that women used this plant in the same manner and for the same purposes as described by the Bible. Mandrake’s natural range extends as far north as Mount Vicentia on the southern edge of the Venetian Alps.
Although it grows rampant in warm, dry climates, it may be cultivated with care in areas not naturally conducive to its growth. The master herbalist John Gerard (1545–1612), for instance, cultivated it in his greenhouse.
Magical references almost inevitably discuss just the roots; the whole plant is lovely and useful, although potentially poisonous if taken internally. Mandrake has apple-like fruit (all those apple names aren’t mere affectation) and lovely flowers possessing a strong aroma.
Mandrake is a member of the Nightshade family, many of whose members contain deadly poisons. Mandrake, too, is poisonous—the berries are particularly toxic. However, for magical purposes, mandrake is virtually always used as an amulet. It is carried, placed under the mattress, or shaped into a doll. It is safe to handle mandrake root (unlike wolfsbane, for instance, which is so toxic, even touching the plant may cause irritation) but not to take any part of the plant internally or to otherwise apply it to the body.
Many tales and legends describe mandrake’s magic powers but the most famous occurs in the Old Testament. This is significant because although biblical injunctions are frequently used as the rationale for persecuting witches, in this case, the Bible recounts a magical success story. The biblical patriarch Jacob is married to two sisters. He loves the younger one, Rachel, passionately but she’s infertile and desperately wants to conceive. He doesn’t love the older sister, Leah (who desperately loves him) although that hasn’t stopped him from fathering her many children. One day, Leah’s oldest son, Reuben, old enough to understand his mother’s situation, finds a mandrake root and brings it to her so that she can use it to magically gain Jacob’s love. Word gets around and Rachel shows up, demanding the mandrake so that she can use it to magically conceive. The two negotiate and, ultimately, Rachel gets the mandrake, conceiving soon afterwards.
The Bible carried mandrake’s reputation around the Eastern Hemisphere; the name “mandrake” developed an aura of allure and power but there was one problem: true mandrake doesn’t grow wild in cold climates. People in these colder areas wanted mandrake too but it wasn’t available. What were they to do? They began referring to local plants with similar uses and human-shaped roots as “mandrake” too. Thus the name “mandrake” may refer to a variety of different and unrelated plants. True mandrake belongs to the Mandragora species.
If you purchase mandrake in Greece or the Middle East or North Africa, it’s quite possible that you’re receiving the real thing. If you’re anywhere else, you’re most likely receiving some substitute. These substitutes can be very powerful—some even prefer them; however be aware that the prices charged should reflect what you’re actually getting. There is no need to spend huge sums on Devil’s Apple, black bryony, May Apple, white bryony or ginseng.
These all have human-shaped roots similar to mandrake. Many possess a similar magical nature and most are, like mandrake, intended for use as amulets not for internal use, because they are poisonous if consumed.
True mandrake has been an important medicinal plant for just as long as it’s been an important magical one. When discussing any sort of medicinal use, that information applies only to true mandrake, the Mandragora species.
Along with opium poppies, mandrake was among the very first anesthetics in existence. Mandrake was first administered either as a potion made by boiling the root in wine, or as an inhalant made by soaking cloth in mandrake infusions. Greek physicians offered their dental patients mandrake root to chew as a local anesthetic. Hippocrates, the author of the Hippocratic oath and considered the founder of modern medicine, wrote of mandrake in approximately 400 BCE, “a small dose in wine, less than would occasion delirium, will relieve the deepest depression and anxiety.”
Mandrake can induce deep sleep, however the incorrect dosage can cause the big sleep from which one never awakens. Fatal doses are very possible, demonstrating that, then as now, anesthesia can be among the most dangerous parts of the surgical process. The medicinal was usually prepared from the root, as is the magical amulet.
During antiquity mandrake root was used as an anesthetic, antiseptic, narcotic, and tonic. Until the early modern era, mandrake wine was used to treat insomnia.
Diluted mandrake root juice was used as an anesthetic during surgery in first-century Greece. Mandrake was used as an anesthetic by the Romans and by the renowned Arabic physicians. Its most dramatic use, however, was in Roman-occupied Judea. Crucifixion was not a unique punishment; the Romans crucified masses of people. Jewish women brewed draughts from mandrakes and soaked sponges in the liquid to offer men nailed to the crosses, causing an anesthetic effect. Depending upon the dose, this could be fatal—a mercy killing. Sometimes, however, the person only had the appearance of death, often fairly long-term. The body would be returned to their family. Eventually they would recover. When the Romans discovered what was going on (perhaps witnessing too many dead men walking) policies were changed: it was decreed that before any man was released from the cross, his legs would be broken and/or he was to be brutally pierced with a spear.
Magically, mandrake is always used as an amulet and never taken internally.

For purposes of enhancing fertility, mandrake is carried as a charm or placed under the bed.

Men traditionally carried mandrake in mojo bags to serve as love charms.

Breton and Norman fishermen once wore jewelry made from mandrake root pieces as protective talismans.
Even when mandrake was an important medicinal (and perhaps because mandrake was such an important medicinal) it has always been associated with witchcraft and magic. The ancient Greeks associated mandrakes with Circe and called it Circaea, although that is now the modern botanical classification for Enchanter’s Nightshade, not mandrake (see page 161). Other European folk names include Witch’s Herb (Hexenkraut), Satan’s Apple (this time meant demonically), and Monster Root. Its medicinal background is recalled in the nickname Doctor Root.
In France, it was such common practice to carry a mandrake that, in 1429, the Franciscan Friar Richard denounced the practice and destroyed great numbers of them. Her inquisitors accused Joan of Arc of carrying one for wealth, although she claimed to be unfamiliar with them. The French fairy Magloire presides over the use of the mandrake root. Some believe that the concept of the Hand of Glory (in French main de gloire) derives from mandrake’s classical name, Mandragora.
Nowhere was the magical use of mandrake root more popular or inventive than in Germany. Historically, virtually nowhere on Earth has there been harsher treatment of witches than in Germany or more concentrated effort to exterminate them; however, ironically or not, there are equally few other places on Earth where magical and botanical knowledge has ever been more persistent. In sixteenth-century German lands, a synonym for witches was Alraundelberin or “mandrake bearer.” “Alraune” already indicated a witch; it now came to mean mandrake, as well (well, really black bryony) so that mandrake and witch became synonyms.
Although technically alraune just means “mandrake” more is implied. The alraune describes a magical system, whereby the mandrake root (the alraune) is cared for, fed, and bathed by a person; in return the alraune provides that person with magical wish fulfillment, protection, and good fortune. This is very similar to various African rituals and to modern African-derived root-working.
The alraune became a staple of medieval German magical practice. Every Friday the root was bathed in wine, wrapped in white silk and laid in a box that was as beautiful or magically empowered as possible. One would whisper one’s desires to the mandrake and hopefully watch them come into fruition.
A slightly different variation existed too: the mandrake root might be surgically enhanced to further its resemblance to a human being (a bit of plastic surgery, in effect), dressed in little clothes, and placed on a throne to serve as oracle or household guardian. Because this practice was extremely illegal (this was at the height of the witch-trials), the seated doll might be kept upright in a small hidden closed cabinet or box (rather than laid flat as in the other method). A popular modern collector’s doll from Germany is known as the Hexen or Walpurgis doll; these tend to be fairly demonic creations, packaged in coffins as if they were vampires. They offend those who resent the false demonization of witches. However, they may also be understood as a corruption and continuation of this alraune tradition, the little “witch” in a box.
The concept of a wish-fulfilling mandrake doll is very ancient; allegedly Thessalian witches were able to animate mandrake mannequins and send them out to do various magical jobs. (A similar scenario exists in Abraham Merritt’s pulp novel, Burn Witch Burn.)
Although some loved and venerated alraunes, others perceived them as diabolical conduits to Satan. Many believed that it was impossible to get rid of an alraune. One’s only option was to sell it. Otherwise, no matter what you did—burn it, toss it in the sea, stamp it to bits—it would be right back, hale and hearty and intact upon your shelf.
In rural areas, people may have obtained their own alraunes, but in urban areas professionals sold them on the magical black market. The risk was tremendously great, to both purchaser and vendor, however the price the alraune demanded was very high: fortunes were made. Real practitioners may have been wary of exposing themselves; however black marketeers, often petty swindlers, knew a hot property when they saw one. You must recall that what was being sold as “genuine mandrake” was already really black bryony, a local root. By the sixteenth century it had become common practice to doctor these roots.
Mandrake roots have always been embellished to enhance their human resemblance. However what was based on tradition soon became fraud. The most authentically human-looking mandrake roots are old ones that have years’ growing but who wants to wait that long to make a profit, especially when witch-hunters are expected in town? A potential buyer would explain why they wanted a mandrake (for fertility usually or for sexual magnetism); the vendor would tell them that he had a mandrake growing in a pot and to come over tomorrow. The vendor would hurry home, doctor a bryony root to look as if it would fulfill the purchaser’s desires and then stick the root into a pot of dirt, so that when the buyer arrived it would look as if it emerged from the Earth in exactly that form. Specimens may be found today in museums in Germany as well as in London and Vienna. They are cut to resemble women, men, couples, even a woman cradling a child.
All kinds of superstitions were associated with mandrake, particularly regarding the manner in which it must be gathered. Although it can be carefully dug out the same as any other root, it became traditional to pull the entire mandrake plant from the ground in one fell swoop.
Because it’s the intact root that desired, it must be pulled from Earth without damaging it. Various legends and traditions sprang up including one that suggests that pulling mandrakes is the equivalent of a game of tug-of-war. If you fail to dislodge the mandrake, it might pull you in return, causing you to disappear into the depths of the Earth.
According to another legend, mandrake screams when it is pulled; hearing the scream is fatal. Another version suggests that the first one to pull up the root dies. All kinds of complex machinations for harvesting mandrake developed: one had to stuff up one’s ears with wax, tie a dog to the plant and then somehow induce him to jump away with such force that the entire root is pulled out of Earth in one piece. This practice allegedly kills the dog. Once this sacrifice has been made, the plant is believed safe to handle and use and exists as an object of wish fulfillment. (These are all superstitions, although they are based on tradition: see below. Mandrakes are grown in nurseries today; no dogs are killed during the harvest nor are there any other mandrake-induced fatalities involved in the harvest. Let’s just say that if any dog ever died during mandrake harvests—and these legends may have no basis whatsoever in fact—the mandrake’s scream isn’t what killed it.)
A later legend that developed in places where mandrake was considered diabolical suggests that it grew only at crossroads, the home of the devil, or underneath gallows—usually erected at crossroads—where the mandrake was nourished by emanations from the corpse. (One cheerful tradition suggests that mandrake isn’t any ordinary plant root but is, in fact, a hanged man’s congealed urine or semen.) Along those lines, it was believed that mandrake’s form reflected that of the dead man, especially if he died a virgin or lived as a congenital thief. (These legends inspired the German novel Alrauna by H. H. Ewers, which in turn inspired no less than five film adaptations. See CREATIVE ARTS: Literature.)
These superstitions are rooted in metaphysical beliefs that had become distorted and demonized. Frequently they are cover-ups for pagan traditions, simultaneously beloved (or at least the potential results are desired) and feared. The machinations with the dog, for instance, may be cover-up for a canine sacrifice that was once intrinsic to the harvest.
The tradition that the mandrake kills the one who initially pulls it from the ground may be based on a Jewish legend (recounted among Louis Ginzburg’s multi-volume Legends of the Jews) that Reuben found the mandrake lying near a dead donkey. (The donkey’s link to the mandrake has sexual connotations that aren’t immediately grasped today.) Interestingly, according to Transylvanian Romany tradition, the root of an orchid used similarly to mandrake is gathered in the same manner by attaching a dog to it. The dog doesn’t die but is encouraged to lunge away by luring it with donkey’s meat.
In Poland, mandrake was gathered by laying bread and money on the ground. The root was carefully pulled up; the offerings were laid in the resulting hole as payment and the hole carefully covered with Earth. The root was bathed in milk, carefully dried, and then wrapped in silk and carried home in a box. In Abruzzi, Italy, mandrake, like other magical plants, was believed best harvested on Midsummer’s Eve.
Sometimes a living plant was desired, not just the root. Having a living mandrake plant on one’s property allegedly brings great fortune, health, and happiness. However, one must take care in transplanting it—any injury to the plant allegedly results in insanity for the guilty party.
See ANIMALS: Donkeys; DICTIONARY: Alraune; Mojo.

Mistletoe
(Viscum album)
Other names: Witch’s Branch; Witch’s Broom
Mistletoe is native to a region stretching from Northern Europe to Northwest Africa and east all the way to Japan. Wherever it is found, mistletoe is considered holy, sacred, powerful, and magical.
Mistletoe is unique: it was understood as a plant that wasn’t a plant—a sort of magical plant. Mistletoe doesn’t grow in Earth; it’s a parasite that attaches itself to trees and eventually may kill them. (Identification of mistletoe with witches wasn’t always meant positively. Other inferences were also intended.)
Mistletoe’s poisonous berries look like tiny golden full moons. In German, these berries are known as “witch’s berries.”
Mistletoe may be the golden bough that inspired Sir James Frazer’s influential book of that name. Mistletoe was sacred to the Greeks and Romans, who believed that it originated when lightning struck trees. For them, mistletoe represented life energy and generative, magic power. If Frazer is correct, mistletoe was sacred to Diana, Queen of Witches.
The Celts nicknamed mistletoe “thunderbroom,” uniting male and female sexual symbolism. No other botanical is as profoundly associated with Druid magic. The Druids believed that it was inauspicious for mistletoe to ever touch the ground and so created an elaborate method of harvest, which involved plucking it from the tree, using a golden sickle, with nets to catch it before it landed.
In Germanic tradition mistletoe is under the dominion of Freya, and brings blessings of love and fertility. Of course, Freya has two sides: she’s a love goddess but also a death goddess.
Mistletoe’s most famous appearance in mythology occurs when it is the object responsible for the death of Lord Balder. Balder has disturbing dreams; his imminent death is indicated. To forestall this tragedy, his mother, Frigg, travels about the Earth seeking assurances from every living being that they will never harm her son. Because mistletoe is so small and puny, she doesn’t think it’s necessary to ask. The moral of the story is an important one in herbalism: the most innocuous plants sometimes are the most lethal.
Mistletoe is used in various medicinal preparations that can only be safely prepared or administered by a master herbalist. Because of its pagan associations, and because of this needed skill, mistletoe became associated solely with witchcraft medicine and the magical arts, except for once a year on Christmas Eve, when this formerly sacred plant is hung from the ceiling to stimulate kissing, love, and romance.
See DIVINE WITCH: Freya.

Mugwort
(Artemisia vulgaris)
Other names: Motherwort; The Red Goat
Caution! Mugwort is not safe for pregnant women or for those actively attempting to conceive. Mugwort Essential Oil, also known as Armoise, its French name, is unsafe for everyone and is potentially fatal. Dried or fresh mugwort herb (the whole thing, not some concentration) is safe for occasional use by most adults.
Mugwort’s Latin name refers to it as common or vulgar Artemisia, as if any member of that plant family could possibly be common or vulgar. They are named in honor of the goddess Artemis. The most famous explanation is that she gave the plant as a gift to the physician centaur Chiron, who tutored Achilles and many other renowned Greek heroes. However another version suggests that the plant is named after Artemis because most of its medicinal uses involve female reproduction over which she has dominion.


Mugwort has been used to stimulate menstruation, whether to induce fertility or to terminate pregnancy.

Mugwort has historically been used to harmonize menstrual cycles with lunar cycles. If one understands that Artemis shares the same essence as the moon, then one is harmonizing oneself with the goddess as well.
Once upon a time, mugwort was considered among the most important of women’s herbs. It was incorporated into infusions and baths and burned as incense.


The ancient Anglo-Saxons considered mugwort first among their nine sacred plants, calling it the Mother Herb.

In Poland, mugwort, known as bylica and called the Mother of All Herbs, is the most powerfully magic plant of all.

In Russian, mugwort is called chernobyl, which obviously has terrible modern connotations because of the disaster at the nuclear power plant in the town bearing that name. The word has long held magical significance in Russian witchcraft traditions and also makes reference to crow’s beaks and has associations with the spirit, the Queen of Snakes. It is sometimes a forbidden word, not to be uttered during certain forms of spell-craft because if uttered, the spell is immediately nullified.

In the southern Tyrol, mugwort is called “broom herb”; because of its association with witches’ brooms.
The plant allegedly protects against witchcraft, ghosts, and thieves. It is a traveler’s herb, providing safety and protection. Another nickname for mugwort is Saint John’s Girdle, commemorating John the Baptist, who allegedly roamed the wilderness eating wild honey and wearing a mugwort belt.
Mugwort is among the original bitter herbs; it doesn’t taste good and so has very few culinary uses. Mugwort’s uses tend to be restricted to women’s reproductive issues and to magic. By the Middle Ages, possession of Artemis’ sacred gift was considered sufficient evidence for conviction of witchcraft. Only midwives or witches (and for many, those terms were synonymous) could possibly use mugwort, a botanical that must be handled with care.
It may be used to stimulate fertility, however if used during pregnancy, it may have disastrous effects. Its potential gifts are dependent upon administration by skilled herb-doctors who understand both the nuances of the botanical and the nuances of the female body.
It doesn’t grow easily from seed but grows wildly rampant in wastelands and ruins. Those who desired mugwort were often forced to gather it in the cemeteries and ruins it favors, increasing its sinister associations. (When it’s happy in its environment, mugwort grows so well that in part of the North American Midwest, where it has been naturalized, it’s treated as a pest, fit for nothing but eradication.)
Although dried mugwort may be easily and inexpensively purchased from herbal suppliers, living mugwort plants can be difficult to obtain today. Mugwort, the ultimate witch plant, is most frequently found today in packaged “dream teas” and “dream pillows.” It is almost always the activating constituent in dreamstimulation products although, because mugwort tastes so bitter, it may be buffered by many other ingredients. As might be gathered, mugwort’s other profound gift is stimulation of dreams and clairvoyance. It usually has a fairly dramatic effect: mugwort opens the portals to other realms and shoves you through. It is worthwhile remembering that Artemis the Huntress was not a gentle goddess by anyone’s standards.
Mugwort sometimes reaches heights of five feet, blooming and achieving its peak power at Midsummer’s Eve. Mugwort is among the plants most associated with Midsummer’s. Mugwort ashes from the Midsummer’s bonfires bring good luck all year round.
See CALENDAR: Midsummer’s Eve; DIVINE WITCH: Artemis.

Mullein
(Verbascum thapsus)
Mullein is a tall, straight plant with downy leaves. When dried, the down on its leaves and stem are excellent tinder. In the days before wax was inexpensive, dried mullein stalks made excellent torches. They were used as such in the rites of the dark moon goddess, Hecate, to whom they are sacred. Hecate, Queen of Witches, is completely nocturnal. She only accepts petitions after dark and she’s fairly picky about forms of illumination. Mullein stalks are her favorite choice. This history is reflected in mullein’s many nicknames: The Hag’s Taper, or the Witch’s Taper, or Corpse Candle.
Another nickname is graveyard dust. Hecate rules the frontier between death and life, often escorting people back and forth over the border. Powdered mullein, her sacred herb, is considered an acceptable substitute for true cemetery dirt called for in magic spells.
Mullein’s associations with death aren’t limited to Hecate or Eurasia. Mullein is also sacred to Oya, the spirit of Africa’s Niger River, who has become increasingly prominent in African-Diaspora faiths where she is Queen of the Cemetery Gates. Oya is the only one among the Yoruba spirits, the orisha, who has no fear of the realm of the dead. Like Hecate, Oya is a powerful witch and herbalist who protects women and children.
Mullein is used in various herbal preparations, particularly for ear infections. It was believed to ward off wild animals. (Animals in general will not consume mullein because the downy leaves irritate their throats.) However, because of its associations with dark goddesses and pagan magic, mullein retained a somewhat sinister reputation and was identified as a witchcraft plant.
See DICTIONARY: Orisha; DIVINE WITCH: Hecate; HORNED ONE: Oya.

Nettles
(Urtica dioica)
The nettles are a family of plants widely distributed over Earth and were once considered very beneficial and widely used. Cloth was spun from nettles. The plant supplied the thread used by Germans and Scandinavians prior to the introduction of flax.
The tops of the leaves may be cooked and are very nutritious. (Stinging nettles really do sting and must be picked with gloves; however once dried or cooked, the sting is gone.) Many beneficial medicinal uses exist. By the Middle Ages, however, in the same places where it had once been prevalent and much used, stinging nettles were so associated with witchcraft that possession was grounds for accusations of being a witch. How did this once beneficial plant develop such an evil reputation?
Although nettles are used to dissolve gallbladder stones, heal wounds, and to relieve the stiffness of arthritis, its primary medicinal associations are largely female-oriented. Stinging nettles are a woman’s friend. Traditional medicinal uses included soothing and hastening labor, so the nettle became perceived as a demonic plant because Eve had been doomed to suffer in childbirth. Attempts to relieve labor pains were considered pagan, sinful, and defiant.
Stinging nettles have other uses: they are classified as a galactogogue, meaning that they stimulate and increase a woman’s milk supply. That’s a fairly innocuous use. However, honey mixed with the juice of Roman nettles (Urtica pilulifera) and applied to a strip of linen inserted vaginally prior to intercourse was an early attempt at contraception in ancient Egypt, as well as the bordellos of ancient Rome. The honey worked as a barrier. Nettle juice may have some spermicidal properties.
Nettles represented wilderness, wild women, and the general quality of being wild. Because they sting and because the juice of nettles provides the antidote for that sting, nettles were identified as the botanical equivalent of snakes, whose venom both heals and harms. Snakes were understood as the animal companion of Satan. Nettles were perceived as diabolical plants. Consuming them allegedly stimulated lust, which perhaps doesn’t seem so bad today, but was, once upon a time, among those sins for which witches, especially alluring, enchanting ones, were blamed. Nettles came to represent witches; they share the witches’ essence and back then that wasn’t meant as a compliment.
The botanical name for what is known in English as blind nettles—Lamium album—derives from Lamia, often understood as a synonym for “witch.” Lamia, in mythology, was a tragic queen reduced to stealing, killing, and maybe consuming other women’s babies.
Stinging nettles are traditionally used in witchcraft to remove curses and break spells. They are protective, guardian plants. Their stinging, prickly nature epitomizes their watchdog nature. What type of dog is most frequently chosen to serve as a guard? A cute, little, fluffy one or a dog that at least looks like it could inflict some damage? The trade in Rottweillers, Dobermans, and pit bull terriers says it all. Stinging nettles are their botanical equivalent. With stinging nettles on your side, who would trespass against you? Or so many thought.
The power of stinging nettles was cruelly turned against convicted witches. Witches were frequently dressed in nettle shirts when they were lead to the funeral pyres. This was for many reasons:


to break their magic and nullify any potential last spells or curses that the witch might cast, because the judges were afraid of their victims

to visually identify them as witches, lest bystanders forget why they were being burned

to signify the Satanic pact by the use of this diabolical plant

to discourage others from wanting any contact with the stinging nettle—only witches would continue to use them

merely to torture them even more with this botanical equivalent of a hair shirt.
It didn’t help that stinging nettles, like mugwort, grows most prolifically among stone ruins and in the cemetery. However, the fairy tale The Wild Swans suggests some awareness of injustice toward the nettles, magical practice, and practitioners of witchcraft. (See FAIRY-TALE WITCHES: Hans Christian Andersen.)

Opium Poppy
(Papaver somniferum)
Caution! Potentially poisonous and, depending where you’re located, almost definitely illegal.
There are many species of poppies, however only two, the opium poppy and the wild setaceous poppy, which may be the root ancestor species of all poppies, contain morphine in any significant amount. Opium poppies were perceived as the most powerful and magical of the species for obvious reasons. However, opium poppies tend to be illegal, even if you’re only planning to add these pretty flowers to your garden, even if you have no intention of producing opium but only wish to use these plants magically or ritually. It is highly unlikely that most of us will ever have access to opium poppies. (Attempting to order them from a seed catalog will likely get you the wrong kind of attention. You try explaining to drug officials that you’re only interested in ritual use.)
As with mandrake root, when discussing historical medicinal use, only true opium poppy (Papaver somniferum) is indicated; however, when discussing ritual or magical use, any of the many other poppy species may substitute. Vivid red corn poppies are the most popular substitute. They were also dedicated to Demeter (as are opium poppies) and serve similar magical function. Another substitute might be the red poppies classified as Papaver strigosum or “witch poppy.”
Opium poppies are most notorious as the source of opium. This overshadows every other use the plant has ever had—the leaves were once eaten as potherbs, and poppy seeds are nutritious and a source of cooking oil.
Poppies contain a tremendous amount of seeds; they are literally countless. Because of this, poppies are among the flowering plants most associated with human fertility. They are the floral equivalent of a pomegranate. As such, they were associated with the generative powers of the Earth and sacred to powerful goddesses.
Opium has been used as an aphrodisiac and intoxicant since the Stone Age, however ancient forms of usage were different than those of modern times. It was once less concentrated, the ancients not having access to derivatives or synthetics. The ancients didn’t have the technical capacity to isolate chemical constituents as is done today. There was little concept of “recreational drugs.” (There still isn’t in traditional societies today.) Instead opium poppies were understood as unique, sacred, both beneficial and dangerous and as packed with magic power as with seeds.
Opium has extremely ancient associations with human beings. Although its origins remain shrouded in mystery, opium poppies have been cultivated since that old time immemorial; no wild population exists. Some poppies may escape from a field and wander; abandoned poppy fields will thrive; but basically opium poppies live where people plant them.
Poppies were cultivated by European Neolithic cave dwellers. They are believed to have eventually traveled from Northern Europe to the Mediterranean during the later Neolithic period, following the amber trade route. By the Bronze Age, opium poppies were well distributed throughout the Eastern Hemisphere and used medicinally, as a food source, and as an intoxicant. The most ancient form of use, for instance, was an infusion, either opium poppyinfused water or wine. Helen of Troy’s elixir of forgetfulness, nepenthe, is believed to have contained opium as well as those other witches’ plants, mandrake and henbane.
Medicinal use of opium disappeared in Europe in the wake of the Black Death, hence its later associations with Asia where it was still used medicinally, ritually, and magically. (It was eventually reintroduced by the physician/ alchemist Paracelsus in the form of laudanum.) Although gone, opium poppies were never quite forgotten: perhaps because they retained their mystique, were mysterious and powerful, and because herbal skill and knowledge was required for safe, successful administration, opium poppies became associated with witchcraft. Opium poppies are believed to have been among the ingredients in witches’ flying ointments.
Because of their notoriety, it is easy to overlook the beauty of opium poppies: although they also come in other colors including white and purple, most are a vivid blood red, the color anciently identified with luck, life, and good fortune. That red color also emphasizes opium’s association with fertility power and the deities who preside over it.


The Greek Corn Mother Demeter drank opium to relieve her state of grief over the loss of her daughter Persephone. She wears a necklace formed from opium pods. Although very little is known about the religious rituals known as the Eleusinian Mysteries that were devoted to Demeter and Persephone, opium poppies seem to have played a part.

Hathor’s necklace is formed from opium pods and mandrake. Hathor is the ancient Egyptian goddess of joy and intoxication. In addition to opium poppies, Hathor presided over beer, wine, and musical intoxication, too.

Isis sometimes holds poppies, too. Thebes, in ancient Egypt, was renowned for its poppy fields.

Poppies are sacred to the Russian forest witch, Baba Yaga. The seeds are incorporated into her initiation rituals.

Nyx the Greek goddess of night, carries a bouquet of poppies, while her son Thanatos, “Death,” wears his poppies in a garland.

Hermes was also associated with poppies. Originally a shamanic fertility deity, associated with horned animals like sheep and goats, Hermes retains his function as messenger between realms. His home is in Mekone, which translates as “poppy town.” His magic staff can cause sleep if he wills it so. That staff with its two entwined serpents remains emblematic of the medical profession. Snakes and poppies were once representative of healing and the physician’s art.

Opium poppies are associated with the sacred physician, Asklepios, Apollo’s son. Visitors seeking treatment at the Temple of Asklepios were given poppy extract to induce curative dreams. Asklepios is sometimes depicted holding the readily identifiable opium capsules in one hand and his serpent entwined staff in the other. (Asklepios’ staff, unlike Hermes’ caduceus, only has one snake.)
Mythic associations are based on actual observation. Poppy seeds will remain viable within Earth for a very long time. Should the soil then be disturbed or churned up, long dormant seeds will suddenly germinate en masse and fields of brilliant red flowers will spectacularly bloom. The ancients identified this phenomenon with the resurrection of the dead and renewal of life, and it was vividly demonstrated during World War I when fields of battle in Flanders and Northern France blossomed with countless scarlet poppies.
Somniferum, the Latin name given to distinguish opium poppies from other poppies, derives from Somnus, the Roman Lord of Sleep, hence such related words as somnambulist and somnolent.
Today opium poppies are dreaded and banned as the source of illegal and dangerous narcotics. “Narcotic” in modern terminology implies “dangerous,” “addictive,” and frequently an “illicit” or “illegal” drug. However, in traditional medicinal usage, in the word’s most technical sense, “narcotic” indicates a substance that induces sleep. Narcotics, in the medical sense of the word, are powerful sedatives and soporifics; they relieve pain and put you to sleep, enabling healing to occur. For millennia, opium was the only reliable anesthetic in existence.
Alkaloids were first discovered by studying opium poppies—as were the entire concept of alkaloids. In 1803, a German pharmacist isolated the very first alkaloid. Discovering that it was highly narcotic and the primary active constituent of opium, he named it morphine in honor of Morpheus, the Greek Lord of Dreams. Opium has since been discovered to contain 40 other alkaloids.
Like Amanita muscaria (see page 152), another ancient intoxicant, the visual imagery of poppies is often divorced from the botanical’s physical effect. In other words, poppies serve as ornamentation for all kinds of illustrations dedicated to children or mainstream holidays. Poppies are so deeply imbedded within human culture that the image survives even where the actual plant and the rituals within which it featured does not.

Crimson poppies decorated a great quantity of European postal cards from the classic age of postcards, especially Christmas and New Year cards, the period corresponding to the Winter Solstice when Earth is sound asleep.

Poppies appear in the film version ofThe Wizard of Oz as the Wicked Witch’s magical tool.

Roots
An ancient synonym for witch, cunning person or wise person is root-worker, root doctor, or the gender specific root-woman or root-man. A root doctor may work with other parts of plants as well as many other genres of magic, however roots are special.
Although all parts of a plant possess their own enchantment, in general, roots are considered a plant’s most profound source of magic power. Roots are buried within Earth and so it’s believed that they absorb Earth’s secrets and hidden wisdom.
World famous wonder-working roots include:


Mandrake (Mandragora officinarum)

High John the Conqueror (Ipomoea jalapa), a species of Morning Glory

Ginseng (Panax quinquefoliusm or Panax schinseng)

Angelica (Angelica spp. especially archangelica), knowledge of this root was the gift of an archangel
Root-workers dig into Earth to gather supplies. Once upon a time, digging into the Earth Mother without permission was tantamount to rape. But how do you ask for permission, how do you know whether you’ve received it and what is the proper ritual for harvest? The root-worker knows. These eventually became professional secrets, transmitted orally.
It is not necessary to kill the plant in order to gather the root, although that is what is most frequently done today. A skilled gardener can carefully dig up a plant, remove part of the root and then replace the plant, also leaving payment for whatever was taken and for disturbing its peace. This takes care and time and precision.
Roots are used for magical, spiritual, and medicinal purposes. Roots serve as lucky charms. High John the Conqueror in your pocket allegedly serves as a draw for good fortune and bestows sexual magnetism on its bearers. Other roots promise fertility or love or protection or success.
Once upon a time, knowledge of roots, the type a root-worker possessed, also implied a certain knowledge of the female reproductive system. The Bible’s first command to people is to be fruitful and multiply. Ancient Jewish sacred texts discuss the contexts where it is permissible to break that commandment. Vague references are made to a “cup of roots” (a potion brewed from roots) that can permissibly terminate pregnancy in certain circumstances. Although the actual formula isn’t specified, it wouldn’t have to be: back then, the root-workers would know. This information was transmitted orally over generations; it may never have occurred to people that this basic, standard information could ever be entirely lost. Those formulas were lost, but the references to cups of roots survived. In medieval Europe, this lead to “roots” having an ominous reputation.
Many roots are treated as living beings—unlike other parts of the plant, which are almost uniformly treated as materials for use. Roots must be cared for so that in a reciprocal relationship they will care for you, too. Roots are “fed” on schedule, daily or weekly or otherwise, with sips of alcoholic beverages, sprinklings of powder, or dabs of enchanted oils. Hopes, dreams, and fears are whispered to them. They may be wrapped in silk or carried in charm bags, kept under one’s pillow or slipped into one’s bosom. Mandrake roots or those roots resembling them are carved to look like little people, making it even easier to talk to them and envision them as alive.
In the twenty-first century, this type of witchcraft is most commonly associated with African-derived magical systems, particularly hoodoo or conjure, because it was marketed and so was relatively public. However root-working is international and exists with variations virtually everywhere on Earth, although it may now be secret and almost forgotten.

Rowan
(Sorbus aucuparia or Fraxinus aucuparia)
The rowan is a small tree closely identified with magic and spirituality in Northern lands. Its English name is related to the Sanskrit “runall” meaning “magician” and the Norse “runall” meaning “a charm.” Rowan tree may also be understood to mean “rune tree.” Rune staves were traditionally carved from its wood.
Rowan is also etymologically connected to “alruna,” the name given to ancient Germanic prophetesses and magical practitioners. Another nickname for rowan is “witch tree.”

In the Scottish Highlands, use of rowan wood for any other reason but spiritual ritual was forbidden once upon a time.

Celts in other regions made black dye for ritual robes from rowan’s bark and berries.

Rowan trees were planted around or near stone circles.

In Wales, rowan trees were planted to guard and protect the deceased.

Cattle were driven through rowan hoops to generate fertility, break any malevolent spells, and offer protection.
Rowan trees were so deeply imbedded in the spiritual fabric of Northern lands that their use couldn’t be prevented; instead it was redirected. Rowan’s most frequent modern magical usage is to prevent witchcraft. Many will tell you that it’s called “witch tree” because it prevents witchcraft. In fact, it’s more of a case of “it takes one to know one.” Rowan is one of those unusual plants that are simultaneously identified with witchcraft and also allegedly protect against it. Rowan may be understood as possessing the power of a witch so powerful that she can negate all other spells cast.
Like other trees (but even more so), it is important not to harvest any part of it without first asking permission (and giving the tree a chance to refuse), and then offering libations and gifts in return.


Rowan is identified with Brigid and her festival of Imbolc.

Rowan is identified with the Norse deity Thor. As one of his sacred plants it was believed beneficial for ensuring virility.
To this day rowan is planted near homes for spiritual protection. The finest dowsing rods for locating metal are crafted from rowan. Rowan also contributes to intoxicating beverages: the berries were made into wine in the Scottish Highlands, the Welsh brew a rowan berry flavored ale and the Irish have used it to flavor mead.
See CALENDAR: Imbolc.

Rue
(Ruta graveolens)
Caution! Rue is not poisonous, however it is not safe for pregnant women or for those actively attempting to conceive.
Rue grows over much of Asia and Europe. Among its folk names are “Mother of the Herbs,” indicating rue’s importance, and “weasel”’ or “weasel snout,” indicating its affiliation with that magically powerful trickster animal.
Another folk name, “Herb of Grace,” is intended to indicate that rue has been incorporated into Christian tradition; it is considered among the Virgin Mary’s blessed herbs. Rue is used to ward off malicious magic. It’s also called “witchbane” because it allegedly keeps witches away. However rue’s historical association with witchcraft, magic spells, and pagan ritual predate its associations with Christianity.
Rue is the primary plant in Italian magical traditions. It was sacred to Diana, Aradia, and Mars. In Italy and elsewhere, rue is famed for breaking the power of the Evil Eye. (Rue and weasels are among the few able to withstand the basilisk’s deadly eye.) Something as simple as a sprig of rue pinned to one’s clothing prevents the Evil Eye as well as many other malevolent spells. Among the other rue-associated Evil Eye preventatives is the Italian cimaruta amulet. Cimaruta literally means “sprig of rue.” It is an amulet formed in the shape of a sprig of rue, and usually made from silver, tin or some silver-colored metal. It is enhanced by small charms that hang from the “fingers of rue.” Most are associated with fertility such as keys, fish, crescent moons, and horns.
Rue is believed to promote clairvoyance. It was also a primary tool of protective magic. Rue’s ability to prevent malevolent magic and return negative spells may be understood to resemble that of powerful witches able to turn back malevolent spells cast by others.
Any witch powerful enough to break a malicious spell could cast one of her own, if she so chose. Rue was thus a component of ancient curses; the plant strengthening the necessary verbal component. The verb “rue” as in “you’ll rue the day you were ever born” is believed to derive from these ancient practices.
However, rue’s most recognized use from antiquity through the Middle Ages was as an herbal abortifacient. Armed with this knowledge, Ophelia’s mad scene in Shakespeare’s Hamlet takes on different resonance. Shakespeare’s audience most likely would have understood the reference; this was fairly common knowledge, at the time, not obscure secret wisdom. Rue, thus, had a shadow reputation as a dangerous, frequently illicit botanical. Rue was also among the primary Midsummer’s Eve herbs.
See DICTIONARY: Evil Eye.

Saint John’s Wort
(Hypericum perforatum)
Saint John’s wort is a plant with powerful solar affiliations. If mugwort is the plant of the moon, then Saint John’s wort belongs to the sun. According to the ancient Greeks, while mugwort was Artemis’ sacred plant, Saint John’s wort epitomized the power of her brother, the solar spirit Apollo. Saint John’s wort is understood metaphysically as mugwort’s brother.
Saint John’s wort derived its English folk name from the feast day of John the Baptist, which coincides with Midsummer’s Eve and the Summer Solstice. It is when the sun is at its maximum height and it is when Hypericum perforatum is at its peak, too. (So is mugwort—a folk name for that plant is Saint John’s Girdle.)
Saint John’s wort is a sunny plant; it brings light and cheer and clarity where previously there was darkness and despair. It is probably the plant in this section most familiar to the average reader because Saint John’s wort’s magical uses have been found by modern science to be true: Saint John’s wort is a modern remedy against depression. Although the concept of standardized medication is new, Saint John’s wort’s reputation for providing light in the darkness is ancient.

In medieval France, it was traditionally used as a remedy against interference from the fairies, especially when that interference is experienced as depression and malaise.

In Greek tradition, sprigs of Saint John’s wort were hung over portraits of the dead so that whatever ills the deceased had suffered, whether physical, emotional or psychic, would be relieved. Their afflictions, pain, and suffering would be terminated so as not to infect the living with these emanations.
Mugwort and Saint John’s wort may be understood as complementary powers or as oppositional forces, depending upon your perspective. If mugwort epitomized witchcraft, then witch-hunters’ believed that Saint John’s wort would oppose and eradicate it. If mugwort is maximum yin—an emphatically female plant—then Saint John’s wort is maximum yang, the epitome of masculinity. If mugwort is the evil sister, then Saint John’s wort is the heroic brother.
The use of Saint John’s wort by witch-hunters may be understood as cultural or magical appropriation. That Saint John’s wort was also popular amongst witches is indicated by its German folk-name, Walpurgis Herb. However, in French Saint John’s wort is called “chasse-diable” or “devil-chaser.”
Witch-hunters fed Saint John’s wort tea to accused witches in the belief that it negated the devil’s compact. Negating the compact didn’t mean that now everything was all right and the ex-witch could go home free. She was doomed anyway; “negating the compact” merely ensured that it would be safe to execute her. She would lack the power to execute vengeance on her judges and executioners.

San Pedro
(Trichocereus pachanoi)
San Pedro is a ribbed night-blooming cactus also known as achuma, huachuma, and giganton. It grows from sea level up to altitudes of 3000 meters in South America from Ecuador to Bolivia.
San Pedro is Spanish for St Peter, the saint who holds the keys to the kingdom. San Pedro contains the potent alkaloid mescaline. It possesses a psychotropic, consciousness-altering effect and has historically been used to enter or view the spirit world. It is used as a diagnostic tool for curanderos (Latin American shamanic healers) to enable the diagnosis of illness and determination of the needed cure. Under the influence of San Pedro the shaman may battle ferocious animals, communicate with spirits or travel between realms.
Based on representations on pre-Columbian pottery, San Pedro has probably been used for at least one thousand years and possibly for three thousand years or even longer. The first written descriptions appeared shortly after the arrival of the Spanish within the context of the Inquisition. Seventeenth-century priests wished to eliminate pagan practices of which San Pedro was seen as being integral. To persist in San Pedro’s use was to defy the new order and the new religion and thus to be branded as a witch. Because San Pedro is not administered without strict rituals and expert supervision, it was understood as a witch’s tool. Eliminating the plant eliminates the presiding practitioner’s role, stripping her of function and respect.
Its use was never eradicated however. Social scientists, ethnobotanists, and chemists now find San Pedro fascinating and it has been intensely studied for over 50 years. It is still used by Peruvian curanderos. It is most frequently administered as part of a psychotropic infusion, meaning that there may be a lot of other stuff in the brew, too. These are sophisticated rituals that require both spiritual knowledge and botanical expertise; San Pedro is not a toy for laypeople to play with. Both benevolent and malevolently oriented practitioners create these potions, although obviously with different motivation.
Infusions are ingested as a component of spiritual and magical ritual. In other words, consumption of the beverage isn’t believed sufficient. It’s only part of a process, broken down into steps that must be completed properly. Plants must be gathered and prepared ritually. The brew is ritually prepared, too, with spiritual ritual incorporated at every stage.
This is not a mechanical process. Rituals are required to enable the spirit of San Pedro to interact with human spirits. This is reminiscent of other indigenous American rituals featuring ayahuasca and peyote, leading one to wonder whether once upon a time there weren’t similar rituals, similar complex brews for Amanita muscaria or henbane.
San Pedro is also consumed within supervised ritual. It is traditionally believed that if the consumer is not prepared by the ritual leader (curandera, shaman, witch) who opens and closes portals as needed, then the person under the influence of San Pedro is left vulnerable to magical attack, because these are not oneway portals…

Trees
Among the most ancient forms of religion is devotion to sacred trees. In modern usage “tree worship” sounds flat and simplistic; language doesn’t do justice to the concept. Today trees are primarily understood as sources of lumber or as something to be moved out of the way so that the Earth below can be utilized for profit or practicality. In that context “tree worship” may sound primitive and silly.
In order to even begin to understand this concept, one must look at Earth with the wonder-struck eyes of magical perspective. First of all, lose the concept of “one way” directionals. If trees can be perceived as growing out of the ground, they may also be understood to penetrate the ground, as if they were moving downward, not up.
Now imagine: if Earth is a fertile female, what could those big, strong, hard trees possibly be? Genital imagery permeates ancient religion: trees often serve as huge, symbolic male generative organs.
Ritual processionals all over the world, from Japan throughout Asia and Europe, feature trees carried to represent generative energy. Sometimes they’re carved explicitly and very realistically into gigantic phalluses; sometimes tree trunks are left au naturel, no enhancement necessary. On-lookers may reach to touch the passing tree to gain a little of that energy for themselves: for reproductive fertility, for material prosperity, for sexual prowess, and for the magical prevention of erectile dysfunction. That tree serves a lot of people’s diverse magical needs. This phallic tree trunk may be pounded on doors to announce the arrival of the creative, generative spirit.
The most famous surviving phallic tree is the Maypole. A tall, hard, straight tree (often an elm) is ritually prepared, then set up within a dance ground—a magic circle. Young girls dance around it, wrapping it in silk ribbons. (Makes you wonder about that other lavishly ornamented tree, the Christmas Tree, doesn’t it?)
Not all trees were masculine. Smaller, curvaceous trees like the elder or rowan are usually perceived as feminine. Fruit-bearing trees, like figs, date palms or apples, are considered female as well, although nut trees are resolutely male. The Latin classification for walnuts describes them as “Jupiter’s balls” and we’re not talking about baseballs, golf balls or any other round object used in sports.
Some of the oldest religious rites took place in sacred groves. These groves were sacred ground and places of oracular wisdom. Various deities maintained sacred groves of trees that shared their essence. Zeus presided over the oak grove at Dodona. The oracle was interpreted by listening to the wind whispering through the trees. Eventually “whispering” would become the domain of witches.
There is an ancient, ancient, primordial tradition of holy trees. One especially sacred motif was the snake in a tree. The snake curling its body around a tree trunk was sometimes under-stood as the unification of the sexes. Some have suggested that the biblical story of the snake and the tree in the Garden of Eden may be interpreted to mean that the era of that kind of religion was ending. The story is not told without regret; it is accompanied by expulsion from Paradise and foretells enmity between the sexes and between species.
Even after expulsion from Eden, however, tree worship doesn’t end in the Bible. Lady Asherah of the Sea, pre-eminent mother goddess of the Western Semitic people, presided over sacred groves where women went to dance, sing and commune with nature. Trees were carved into the sacred poles named after Asherah and set up in high places as well as within the Jerusalem Temple.
For centuries, the Kings of Judea repeatedly installed, then removed and destroyed these pillars, only to have them installed once again. Although Asherah is frequently painted as a Canaanite goddess, one of the foreign deities the prophets accused the Children of Israel of whoring after, archeological evidence suggests otherwise. Lady Asherah was also an indigenous Hebrew goddess. Her image spent more time in the Jewish temple than outside; every time she was removed, someone eventually replaced her until the destruction of the First Temple. Obviously she was a controversial figure but there’s no way for us to truly understand the controversy because the only surviving writings derive from those opposed to Asherah and devotion to trees. No explanation survives from those who loved her, or at least none has yet been unearthed.
Descriptions of tree-centered spirituality around the world could fill a thousand pages. Norse cosmology describes the World Tree upon which the entire world and all its realms are centered. In Uppsala, Sweden, the city dedicated to Freyr the Elven King, Lord of Generative Fertility, there was an ancient sacred grove where every single individual tree was held sacred. The Druids held their rituals within sacred oak groves. A grove is a sacred perimeter of trees, the space within is demarcated as holy, ritual, magical space. However, much of Earth was once covered with trees.
The forest is the realm of trees and their spirits. It is a place of wild, free, bountiful energy. Cutting down forests may be understood as acts of spiritual warfare against spirits in general (a denial of their existence), against those spirits who preside over forests in particular, and against their devotees. Destruction of rain forests worldwide (as well as other forests) is now attributed to needs of business or “civilization” rather than official religion but may still be understood in the same manner.
This isn’t conjecture: when the missionaries Boniface and Willibrord came to convert the Frisians and Germans in the early eighth century they deliberately destroyed sacred trees. Cutting down groves was understood as a religious act; clearing wilderness makes way for “civilization” and easier administration of authority.
In Europe, forests, the realm of the trees, became refuges for outlaws, witches, pagan hold-outs, and all those who found themselves persecuted by the New Order. When forests became perceived as solely dark and dangerous, witches maintained the forest’s beneficial wisdom and secrets.
The sacredness inherent in a single tree is sometimes sufficient, however.


Witches were described as dancing around a tree at their sabbats.

A walnut tree in Benevento, Italy is legendary as a witches’ meeting place.

According to a Northern legend, when missionaries chopped down a huge holy oak, a small pine arose from its roots. This became the first Christmas tree.
Judaism was never able to suppress devotion to trees: Lady Asherah’s sacred tree survives in the Kabalah’s Tree of Life. Likewise the Christian Church was never able to suppress devotion to trees. Tree traditions survived in the Yule log, Maypoles, Easter egg trees and, most especially, in beautifully garlanded and bedecked Christmas Trees.
Witches became guardians and preservers of tree magic. Trees supply the materials for various magical tools, not least magic wands. The magic wand places the power of the tree directly into the practitioner’s hands, enabling her to focus it as desired. Different types of wood are believed most beneficial for different purposes and styles of magic.
See PLACES: Forest; TOOLS: Brooms, Wands.

Vervain
(Verbena spp.)
Vervain is associated with the positive power of magic, witchcraft, and women’s wisdom. Unlike other witchcraft plants whose temperaments are volatile and dangerous, vervain is friendly. No other plant is believed to have as much affection for people as does vervain. Vervain’s magical uses include providing love, luck, health, and protection, changing bad luck into the best luck and transforming enemies into friends. All one has to do is touch vervain—no elaborate brews are required—to begin to receive its gifts. Vervain, however, is not a “goody-two-shoes” plant; it is a powerful and vigilant protector that may be used to smash hexes and reverse malevolent charms.
Vervain is sacred to Isis; it is believed to have sprung from her tears. Isis was once dependent upon human mercy and learned to love people deeply. Vervain shares her essence and so reflects her feelings.
In Northern Europe, vervain was associated with smithcraft and ironworkers. (Many of the spirits presiding over metal-working are female.) Allegedly vervain was incorporated into the ancient formula for hardening steel. Because of these associations with iron, vervain is also believed to magically encourage the male member to remain as hard and firm as that metal. The Druids harvested vervain with an iron sickle.
Some believe that vervain’s name derives from two Celtic words: fer “to take away” and faen “stone” or “weight.” According to Druid tradition, vervain was gathered at night, during the Dark Moon. The Druids of Cornwall and Devon incorporated vervain into divinatory rituals, inhaling its fumes.
European colonists brought vervain seeds to the Western Hemisphere, where naturalized it now grows wild. At its peak, at Midsummer’s Eve, vervain can reach heights of about five feet. It is used in love potions and aphrodisiacs.

Willow
(Salix spp.)
Why does that willow weep? Why, indeed? Willows are identified with some of the most powerful goddesses of all including Artemis, Circe, Hecate, Hera, and Persephone. Although they are extremely beautiful trees, many planted purely for ornamental value, willows tend to possess somewhat of a doleful, ominous reputation. They have long been considered witch’s trees and witch’s tools.
Weeping willows are a specific type of willow (Salix babylonica). They were indigenous to China but spread westward and are now widely distributed. There are many species of willow; as a whole they are also extremely well distributed—miniature willows, only inches tall, survive in the Arctic Circle, while other species may be found in deserts and tropical areas.
Willows are graceful trees with lithe boughs and an affinity for water. Like alder, willows are often found near rivers, streams, swamps, and marshes. The willow is believed to love and crave moisture (hence the weeping willow’s affinity for tears) and so is under the dominion of the moon, the planetary body that rules water, women, and fertility.
Snakes are the creatures believed to most closely share the essence of the willow tree. The willow’s branches and leaves are believed to resemble the motion of a snake. In ancient Greece, willow branches placed under the beds of infertile women were believed to transmit fertility-generating snake power. (No doubt a more peaceful night’s sleep was to be had with willow branches beneath the bed rather than living, slithering snakes!)
Willows are also used to magically ward off snakes and prevent snakebite. Among willow’s other magical uses are for wish fulfillment and healing and love spells.
Perhaps because willows were associated with such powerful lunar goddesses, the trees came to be associated with witches in ancient Greece. “Willow” has long been a popular magical or craft name among witches—as exemplified by “Dark Witch Willow,” the character on the television series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Willows are associated with fertility and birth, but also with death. In Celtic areas, willows were planted in graveyards because it was believed that they encouraged the dead to rest peacefully and to refrain from roaming.


Thin, flexible young willow branches are a traditional binding to hold handmade witches’ brooms together.

Magic wands crafted from willow are believed especially beneficial for divination.

Wolf ’s Claw or Club Moss
(Lycopodium clavatum)
Common club moss has an amazing number of evocative folk names. In English it’s known as devil’s claw, wolf’s claw, snake moss, witch’s dust, witch’s dance, or Earth Sulfur. In German, it’s called Hexenkraut, “witch’s herb.” Long considered a sacred plant according to the Roman Pliny, its harvest first required a sacrifice of bread and mead. Wolf’s claw was then gathered with the left hand, while adorned in white robes standing barefoot beneath a New Moon.
Although the plant has various other magical uses, the dust from its spores made wolf’s claw an important shamanic tool. This yellow spore dust is known as witches’ flour, druids’ flour, elven flour and perhaps most accurately as lightning powder. It’s oily and if tossed onto flames explodes with a burst similar to thunder and lightning. Today it’s perceived as only a special effect; magical illusionists remain enamored with it, but once upon a time it was considered magical and used to great effect by shamans. (The spore powder also has medicinal use.)

Wolfsbane
(Aconite napellus, Aconite vulparia)
Also known as aconite, blue rocket, friar’s cap, monkshood and Venus’ chariot, wolfsbane is among the deadliest of plants and very closely identified with witchcraft. It is indigenous to Eastern Europe, but was eventually grown in ancient Greece, from whence it spread to Italy and is now found as far afield as the British Isles.
Its active alkaloid is aconitum, a very potent poison. One fifth of a grain of aconitum is sufficient to produce a fatal dose. Controversy exists about whether it produces a psychotropic effect. It’s impossible to determine for sure because at present, with existing knowledge, wolfsbane is basically impossible to use. Whether it was ever genuinely used or whether those formulas calling for it are just full of bravado is equally impossible to tell. Many spells suggest brewing it, although just because a spell is “traditional” doesn’t mean anyone actually ever cast it (or at least not successfully!).


Wolfsbane is so poisonous that even handling the plant causes skin irritation and is potentially dangerous.

Wolfsbane is so poisonous that having ritually bathed the plant, it’s no longer safe to even put your hands in the water, let alone ingest it.
That said, few plants are as identified with witchcraft as wolfsbane.
Its natural habitat is mountains, however it can be cultivated and it will wander. It blooms in the summer. Wolfsbane is a very beautiful plant with lush flowers and is thus a favorite of traditional poison gardens. It was used to represent the dangerously alluring witch, the femme fatale, whose beauty masked her innately poisonous nature.
Every part of the plant is deadly, most especially the root. The name wolfsbane derives from attempts at wolf eradication. Gaulish Celts and Chinese used it as arrow poison, and the ancients concurred that aconite was the deadliest of their known poisons.
Wolfsbane is sacred to Hecate. Its origin is sometimes attributed to Cerberus, the threeheaded guard dog of Hades, who may or may not be Hecate the dog goddess in disguise. Wolfsbane allegedly sprang up where Cerberus’ drool touched Earth.

Calendar of Revelry and Sacred Days (#ulink_20e397ca-6663-5c78-aea1-751fd44bae7a)
Witches certainly require privacy to cast spells and for certain rituals, however witches around the world are also renowned (or notorious) for their partygoing and party-giving skills. Witches have a reputation as a restless bunch: they like to get out of the house frequently (or at least so says the stereotype), especially at night and especially when the night holds promise of high spirits and magical company.
Although perhaps any time is the right time for celebration, enchantments, and revelry certain times of the year are particularly associated with witches and witchcraft.
The witch’s calendar of revelry and sacred days includes celebrations of Earth and her powers, ancient Pagan festivals, and modern derivations of these festivals from Neo-Pagan as well as Christian sources.
Upon closer examination one will notice that although there are many localized names for these holidays, reflecting different cultures, languages, and spiritual orientations, most of them correspond in time to seasonal changes such as the solstices, equinoxes or periods immediately following or preceding them.
The modern perception is that people superimpose holidays and festivals on these time periods. The magical perception would suggest that ancient people were responding to Earth’s moods. The nature of the festivals (some are solemn, others wildly ecstatic) reflects Earth’s natural and consistent state at that time of year. Thus the many variations on specific themes may not all derive from one source; instead they may have emerged independently, in response to a natural phenomenon that, although obvious to our ancestors, may be imperceptible to many of us today.
These celebrations may be categorized thus:


Festivals honoring and acknowledging solstices and equinoxes: Midsummer’s, Mabon, Yule, and Ostara

Anarchist festivals when rules are defiantly broken: May Eve, Midsummer’s Eve, November Eve, and Yule

Nights that witches congregate and celebrate: Halloween, May Eve, Midsummer’s Eve, and Easter. (Easter? Yes, read on.)

The periods when the veil between realms is thin and dead souls return to visit the living: Halloween, Yule, and Lupercalia.

Times devoted to ritual purification and cleansing rites: Yule, Lupercalia, and the February Feasts.

Celebrations of the Harvest and the Corn Mother: Mabon, Lughnasa, and the February Feasts.
Different names are used for identical days representing different traditions, languages, cultures, and spiritual orientations.

The Anthestheria
See also February Feasts, Candlemas, Imbolc, and Lupercalia.
The Anthestheria, “the festival of flowers,” heralds the arrival of Dionysus, Lord of New Life and Wine, literally. It hails the birth of the deity plus the annual ritual opening of new casks of wine. The festival was devoted to birth, death, purification, and fertility.
Only one of several annual festivals honoring Dionysus in Greece, the Anthestheria was held for three days in the month of Anthesterion (February/March). According to some analyses of the festival (much is enshrouded in myth), the festival also corresponds with Dionysus’ birth. If there is such a thing as a “triple goddess” then Dionysus is the corresponding “triple god”; during this festival he is honored as infant, husband, and dying god.
Opening the new casks of wine isn’t as simple and forthright as it sounds. The wine casks were half-buried in Earth during the fermentation period, so their removal is like a birth, specifically like a Caesarian section and even more specifically like Dionysus’ own birth. Dionysus’ mother died before he was born; the unborn child was surgically removed from her womb and then sewed up within his father Zeus’ thigh, where he was allowed to mature in peace until the time was ripe. Ritually unearthing the casks and opening them is a metaphoric re-enactment of Dionysus’ birth. His devotees share in the deity’s essence by consuming him; drinking the wine accomplishes this purpose.
Initially the festival was apparently celebrated by women and children, but there are many gaps in the historical narrative. Many aspects of devotion to Dionysus fall under the category of “mystery traditions” and hence secrecy was always a component. In addition, the more femaleoriented aspects of his devotion ultimately became disreputable and illegal. Information regarding them was suppressed.
The first two days of the festival were devoted to honoring the deity and the new wine. The festival’s days (and nights!) were punctuated by secret celebrations for mature women, rituals of initiation for children, and general revelry and celebration for all. Everyone was invited to the party, including men, ancestral spirits, dead souls, and various spiritual entities.
There are two levels to this festival, however. It was a public festival, with some aspects were celebrated by all, but it was simultaneously also a mystery celebration. Dionysus’ most devoted servants, the maenads and others, celebrated secret rites in his honor, apparently including the Great Rite, the sacred marriage between deity and devotee. (See DICTIONARY: Great Rite.)
The festival’s three nights were reserved for women’s mysteries. The maenads celebrated privately in the mountains and forests. Little information survives, however mature women were understood to play the role of brides of Dionysus at this time. (In some legends, Dionysus’ marriage to Ariadne coincides with this festival; other legends suggest that the wedding was held on May Eve.) Among the festival’s goals was the stimulation of personal and agricultural fertility.
Rituals and celebrations evolve over time. Attitudes toward ghosts changed. What seems to have originally been a day devoted to honoring dead ancestors (see Dias de los Muertos; Festivals of the Dead) eventually became a time of fear. Household doorposts were smeared with pitch in an effort to keep ghosts out. Many shrines and temples were kept tightly sealed on this day, allegedly to prevent ghosts from entering and lingering longer than their allotted time on Earth. (Another explanation suggests that this day belongs only to Dionysus and Hermes; therefore other spirits are prevented from leaving their shrines and joining the rituals.)
The festival concludes when women carry pots of cooked grains and vegetables to the marshes to bid farewell to the dead with the ritual incantation “Begone Ghosts! The Anthestheria is over!”
If rituals are conducted correctly, the end result is the removal and purification of malevolent ghosts, low-level spirits, and spiritual debris. Modern versions and adaptations of the Anthestheria are celebrated by some Neo-Pagans.

Beltane
See also Floralia, May Eve, Roodmas, and Walpurgis.
Beltane is the conventional modern spelling. Bealtaine is the traditional Irish spelling.
Beltane officially begins at moonrise on the evening before the first day of May. It is the Celtic festival corresponding to May Eve, which is metaphysically understood as the moment when Earth’s generative, reproductive, and sexual energies are at their peak. Beltane, thus, is among the many May festivals celebrating Earth’s sexual and reproductive powers; however Beltane has added resonance in Celtic lands as it also inaugurates the second half of the year.
Rituals are held during Beltane to enhance and increase the fertility of land, people, and animals. A celebratory feast welcomes the newly awakened Earth. Witches and fairies are out and about tonight.
The modern Western year is divided into quarters (spring, summer, fall, and winter). However, as well as can be understood based on limited surviving information, the ancient Celtic year was divided into halves:


The dark half is initiated with the festival of Samhain, which corresponds to October 31st on the modern calendar or Halloween.

The bright half is initiated by the festival of Beltane, corresponding to April 30th on the modern calendar or May Eve.
One may visualize this calendar as akin to a yinyang symbol, with Beltane proclaiming the start of the bright yang portion.
Much of what we know of Celtic festivals (and most of what has been incorporated into modern Wicca) derives from Ireland, although the Celts once dominated a good part of Europe. There are indications that similar festivals were held elsewhere in Celtic Europe, not least by the prevalence of May Day celebrations throughout the entire continent.
Known as Calan Mai in Wales, Beltane is the Celtic fire festival marking the beginning of summer. The name may derive from “bel” (light) or “bil” (luck) and the general consensus is that Beltane means “bright fire.” There have also been suggestions that the name honors someone named Bel or Belenus who may or may not be a Celtic deity. There was possibly a Celtic deity from Austria named Belenus. Another possibility is that Bel is either derived from or identical to the pan-Semitic fertility deity Baal.
Fire may be understood as a little bit of the sun on Earth. In the spirit of the metaphysical adage “as above, so below,” the magical power of the sun was rekindled and enhanced by the Beltane bonfires. These bonfires were known as “bel-fires” or bale fires. They joyfully celebrate and proclaim the return of fertility (life) to Earth. Beltane bonfires were ritual fires and were traditionally kindled by friction or by sparks from a flint. (To this day, some traditionalists resist the allure of matches or lighters and insist that others do so as well.)
The bonfires convey the magical, healing, energizing force of fire. In order to benefit from this positive magic radiant energy, people dance around the fire, jump over it, crawl through it once it gets low and also drive their livestock through. Although any animal can benefit from the magic of the bale fires, cattle, the sacred cows so intrinsic to Irish myth, are especially associated with Beltane. If there are twin fires or multiple fires, people will dance between them and lead animals between. The ultimate goal of these rituals is disease prevention and the termination of bad luck, as well as the renewal of fertility and creativity.
Although a sacred day, Beltane was a happy, raucous holiday, not a serious, solemn one. It is impossible to celebrate Earth’s sexuality with-out simultaneously reveling in human sexuality too. Beltane was one of those anarchic festivals where everyday constraints were thrown to the winds. The Christian Church would eventually condemn the carnal licentiousness of Beltane rites, accusing the populace of indiscriminate copulation. Although defamatory, these accusations weren’t without a vestige of truth (although it’s unlikely that sexual activity was ever as indiscriminate and random as the Church postulated), however disapproval stems from perspective and perhaps a wee bit of jealousy. After all, some people were having fun when others weren’t. (See May Day, page 211, for further information.) Children whose birthdays fell near the Celtic festival Imbolc, which occurs precisely nine months later, were affectionately known as “Beltane babies,” and were considered to be special children with strong psychic powers and favored by the fairies.
According to Sir James Frazer, author of The Golden Bough, “every woman who fetches fire on May Day” was considered a witch in sixteenth-century Ireland.
Beltane was understood as a witches’ festival, when witches came out to play, as well as a day that was sacred to devotees of the Fairy Faith. Perhaps their very visibility on this date made those with magical or pagan inclinations vulnerable to those with other orientations. Notions of sacrifice, and especially of sacrificial witches permeate many historic Beltane traditions, and May became a time when witches and their animal allies were persecuted.


Cats and rabbits discovered in the fields in Ireland during Beltane were traditionally understood as witches in disguise and frequently killed on the spot, often by being tossed into the bonfires.

Litters of kittens born during the entire month of May were feared as potential witches’ familiars and summarily drowned.

A tradition known as “burning the witches” persisted in the Scottish Highlands into the eighteenth century. Young men took bits of the burning Beltane bonfires onto pitchforks. They then ran through the fields shouting “Fire! Fire! Burn the witches!” The fire is scattered through the fields to enhance their fecundity—which, in fact, it does.
The joyful aspects of Beltane have been incorporated into contemporary Wicca. Aspects of the festival devoted to the sun, human sexuality, and the regeneration of life and magic power are emphasized.

Candlemas
See also February Feasts, Imbolc, and Lupercalia.
Candlemas is the informal English name given to the Roman Catholic feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin. Candlemas is the oldest of the festivals specifically honoring the Blessed Mother. It coincides in time with other purification festivals dedicated to other divine mothers such as Brigid (Imbolc) and Juno (the Lupercalia).
There is confusion as to when Candlemas is celebrated; depending on which version of the calendar is used, Candlemas falls on either February 2nd or February 15th, although always beginning the previous eve. The Lupercalia, Rome’s festival of purification and fertility that officially began on February 13th, was officially banned in 494 CE, although it’s believed to have survived in secret for longer. Candlemas is generally understood as an attempt to replace it.
Candlemas traditions in the form they exist today can be safely dated to the eleventh century. Candlemas also marks the official end of the Christmas season; Yule greens and decoration are now taken down.
Despite its ecclesiastical name, but perhaps because of positive association with candle magic (and maybe simply because many find it easier to pronounce), the name Candlemas is often used to refer to the modern Wiccan sabbat Imbolc. In other words, although the name Candlemas is used, rituals and practices belong specifically to Imbolc (see page 204).
Other Neo-Pagans understand Candlemas as a celebration of candles, now standard everyday witchcraft tools. Traditionally candles are set ablaze in every window and the night is considered ideal for candle magic and divination.
Candelaria is the equivalent of Candlemas in Spanish-speaking countries. Oya, the warrior orisha of Storms, is syncretized to the Virgin of Candelaria and shares her feast day. Oya sweeps the atmosphere clean using the powerful hurricane winds that blow annually from Africa toward the Caribbean. Oya’s traditional Candelaria offerings include nine purple candles, nine small purple eggplants, and a glass of red wine.
See also DICTIONARY: Orisha; Santeria.

Cross Quarter Days
The Cross Quarter Days are those that mark the half-way point between solstices and equinoxes:


May 1st, also known as Beltane, May Day, and Walpurgis

August 1st, also known as Lammas and Lughnasa

November 1st, also known as All Saints’ Day and Samhain

February 1st, also known as Candlemas and Imbolc
Pagan festivals and holy days correspond to each of the Cross Quarter Days. In addition, in various parts of Europe—notably Scotland and Ireland—the Quarter Days were when rents fell due to the landlord, perhaps necessitating the need for some extra magic.

Dias de Los Muertos/Mexican Days of the Dead
See also Festivals of the Dead, Halloween, and Samhain.
The Days of the Dead refers to a three-day festival that fuses pre-Columbian indigenous celebrations with those of Roman Catholicism. Because the Roman Catholic feast day that honors the deceased also incorporates a tremendous amount of older pagan spirituality and tradition, the modern Mexican Days of the Dead is a tremendously complex celebration.One must specify Mexican Days of the Dead because virtually every Latin American community throughout South and Central America also has some sort of commemorative feast, as do many communities elsewhere. Although the purpose is identical, traditions vary greatly. Aspects of the Mexican Days of the Dead have become increasingly influential over Neo-Pagan spirituality.
November Eve and the days immediately before and after are internationally considered the time when the dead visit the living. Depending upon perspectives toward the nature of the dead, some cultures find this a scary time. In other words, if the revenant dead can only be up to no good, then the time when they return is a time of great danger.
In traditional Mexican culture, however, the dead are welcomed, feasted, propitiated, and then sent safely on their way. This is the natural order: it is natural for the dead to appear at this time and it is natural for them to depart afterwards. The dead who are not propitiated and treated with respect, love, and honor are those who may linger and become troublesome ghosts. It is in the community’s interest for this not to occur, and the Days of the Dead are celebrated by individuals and families but also by communities at large. To witness Days of the Dead celebrations in Mexican villages is to understand how festivals like Beltane, Midsummer’s or Samhain must once have been an entire community’s affair.
Extremely similar festivals honoring the dead were once held at this time of year throughout Italy, most especially in Salerno. The practice was banned by the Church in the fifteenth century.
There isn’t just one fixed way to celebrate the Dias de los Muertos. Traditions vary depending on location and region, however some themes and traditions remain consistent. Each day of the three-day festival is dedicated to a different community of the deceased. The dead are envisioned as a parade of spirits, arriving in scheduled hosts arranged according to age and manner of death.
The Mexican Days of the Dead is a celebratory festival, combining humor with devotion, a lust for life with an acceptance of death. Traditional Aztec culture didn’t fear death. Death was understood as a period of deep sleep or true reality, while life (or lives) was the dreams experienced during this sleep/death. Modern Mexican culture revels in humorous, grotesque, defiant artistic celebrations of death, which simultaneously celebrate life, too. Death isn’t a topic to be avoided but instead it is defied and mocked while simultaneously respected and revered.


Images of skeletons and skulls are omnipresent.

Decorated sugar skulls fill the stores in the period leading up to the holiday in the same manner that pumpkins and Halloween-oriented cookies and candies do at this time in the United States.

Special holiday foods are prepared and served only at this time of year, including certain moles (Mexican stews featuring bitter chocolate) and the “Bread of the Dead”—a sweet loaf decorated with skulls and crossbones.
An ofrenda, translated into English as an “offering table” or altar, is set up in the home. The ofrenda serves as the magnet that guides and welcomes the spirits of the deceased. A table is beautifully decorated and laden with the feast to be shared by the living and the dead.
Technically the festivities begin the eve of October 31st in conjunction with the Roman Catholic festival of All Hallows Eve, however, depending upon region or village, it may begin as early as October 27th. Commemorations prior to the 31st are more openly pagan in orientation than the official three-day period, which is technically a Roman Catholic feast.
What follows is a standard calendar for the Days of the Dead. However be advised that this is subject to variation.


October 27th is dedicated to those who died without families, whose families have since died out or to those who, for whatever reason, have no one to welcome them and create an ofrenda for them. Sad, lonely, and potentially jealous and resentful, if left hungry and unpropitiated these are the spirits who can potentially become dangerous, malevolent ghosts. Bread and water is placed outside for them.

October 28th is dedicated to those who died violently, whether by accident or through intention. They, too, are given fresh bread and water.
In both these cases, food and drink is placed outside, not inside the home. The intention is to prevent the phenomenon of destructive, malicious, “hungry ghosts,” not to have the ghosts become so comfortable that they decide to move in.


October 29th is a day of preparation.

October 30th is dedicated to pagan babies and babies in limbo, those children who died without baptism or unknown wandering children’s souls. Bread, water, and small things that would please a child (sweets, toys, juice) are placed outside.
Up until this point, any food offered is not shared by the living. Once given, it is left outside.
The night of October 31st may be dedicated to dead children while November 1st is for deceased adults. In some communities, however, November 1st is the Dia de los Angelitos (the Day of the Little Angels). Children’s graves are given special attention and ofrendas devoted to children are erected.

October 31st is offered to dead children whom a family knew and loved. The offering is made in the home; the dead souls from this point on are welcomed into the home.

November 1st is dedicated to deceased adults, friends, family members, loved ones or those whom one admires and wishes to honor. Offerings may be made at home or brought to the cemetery, where living and dead may feast together.

By the evening of November 2nd, the dead should be gone, well on their way back to where they came from. Trails of shredded yellow marigold blossoms may be laid to lead them back to the family plot. Stubborn, lingering ghosts are sent on their way by masked mummers. This once would have been the shaman’s job.

Easter
See also Ostara.
In Ireland as well as the United Kingdom and her former colonies, the witches’ party night is Halloween. In Germanic and Slavic lands, witches fly on Walpurgis Night. In Sweden, the witches fly on Easter Eve. Easter? Yes—pagan traditions permeate Easter and not only in Sweden.
Although Easter is frequently considered the most sacred day of the Christian calendar (in some areas it supersedes Christmas) many of its beloved folk customs have nothing to do with Christianity—most obviously egg-delivering bunnies.
Easter corresponds approximately with the vernal equinox, the beginning of spring, and as such is a celebration of new life, including flowers, eggs, and babies. The vernal equinox corresponds with the beginning of the astrological sign of Aries, the very first sign of the zodiac and hence the beginning of a new annual cycle.
Easter’s name honors the Germanic deity whose name is variously spelled Astara, Easter, Eostre, and Ostara and is believed to mean “Radiant Dawn.” Ostara is the spirit of spring and the returning season of fertility. Her annual return was traditionally celebrated with flowers, bellringing, and singing. New fires were lit at dawn.
Ostara manifests as a beautiful young woman, with flowers in her hair. Her male consort takes the form of a rabbit. Sometimes he is the size of a full-grown human male; at other times he’s a little bunny that Ostara cradles in her arms. Ostara and her frisky rabbit bring the eggs that signify Earth’s resurgence of fertility.
Easter celebrates the magical energy and power that encourages and stimulates new beginnings. It is a festival of fertility and efforts to enhance fertility. These aspects of the holiday may be ignored or passed over, however they are not hidden or obscure. Until not that long ago, it was traditional in French, German, and Italian villages for special phallic-shaped cakes to be carried in procession to the local church at Easter.
Easter’s pagan components include the following.

Easter Eggs
Eggs are symbolic of new life, new beginnings and fertility. They are a component of countless magic spells. Decorating, preserving, hiding, and burying eggs are only a few of the techniques used in ancient spells from around the world. The goals of most spells incorporating eggs include protection, purification, spiritual cleansing, wish fulfillment (the goose with the golden eggs), prosperity, and abundance including personal reproductive abundance. When a major fertility symbol like a rabbit presents another fertility symbol, like an egg, a very clear message is being sent. (For those unfamiliar with the basics of the birds and the bees, in real life rabbits do not hatch eggs, ever

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