Boundary Dogs And Land Wights

Sometimes time slips and you get to see something that's just out of place in the normal realms of time, and when we walk amongst the barrows here, sometimes we see the unexpected.

I'm not going to get into this story too quickly, otherwise it'd be over and what would be the point? First, you have to understand a bit about where I am in Wessex, and what I see, and what has been before, and what still lingers. I think it'll be worth the read though.

On this early morning of the 1st of June 2024, I saw and heard some really strange things in an old part of the woods. I never went out looking for it, I just went for a wander with the hounds. We go to see the trees you see.

It’s early on this particular Saturday as I go into the woods. Although it's June, there's still a bit of mist about and as it's early, it's slightly chilly.

I always honour the tradition of knocking on the same tree when I enter the woodland to show my intent - to say hello, just like if you're going into someone's house. I feel it's rude to just go into the woods without announcing your presence. Sometimes there are crows or rooks that call out from the tree tops. They always hang around here at this point, and sometimes they call out. I don't know, I like to think they recognise me and it's a greeting.

As I wander further in I hear a croak above the tree tops and I have a raven over watch.

I always find this comforting. Hearing the sounds of the woodland means there must be fewer people about in the area to bother the wildlife – fewer people to bother me too, and this suits me fine.

I carry on further along the path and there's a single round barrow. I always make sure I go here, and I always stop. I feel I should acknowledge those who have gone before, especially when I feel stirred to do so. I have no idea who they are, but there's an empathy in this area that I can sense. So I stop for a while.

This burial mound sits on the edge of the holloway and has done for thousands of years. These ancient pathways have been worn deep into the earth by centuries of use. Farmers, traders, travellers, and all types of people have traversed these heavily sunken paths. Holloways derive their name from the Saxon or old English term “hola weg,” which translates to sunken road. In places the sides stand far higher than I can ever see over, like a massive earthen wall either side of me.

As I tread my way along these old pathways in the woods I sometimes get to see and hear some very odd things. Really odd. It's not all the time though.

Most often, I just enjoy the sights and sounds of nature - proper woodland walks. I see lots of woodland animals, and I get let into lots of little woodland worlds. I just go out to see things, whatever that may bring. I go with an open mind. I prefer the greens of spring and summer - you know, those days when the light streams through the canopy and you get that mixture of dappled light but mainly greens to bathe in. The light flickers and plays as it filters down through the tree tops. That's my woodland green.

When I go out wandering in the woods, I do find that if I'm on my own, I'm more likely to see something wyrd. When I'm with someone else I do get to see cool stuff, but on my own or with my dogs I see the strange, the otherwordly. If I go looking for it, it never happens but, when I'm just ambling along in my own thoughts, it normally hits like a brick and I'm left reeling and wondering what the fuck did I just see? I'm left with that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and a rush of adrenaline with my heart going nineteen to the dozen.

Are you still with me? Good, I will get into it - keep reading.

So, I’m just wandering along the path, looking around, and making sure the dogs are within sight. I’m looking up at the trees with not a care really when, part way along the path and for no reason, I breathe in very sharply and deeply. I have the sudden realisation that there are no birds singing, there’s no sound, and that the dogs are suddenly by my legs. I just slow down and stop, looking around me, and up, and all about. It’s odd. Everything just slows down, it’s like the woods are on slow-mo.

Then it happens.

There’s this slow squeaking and creaking noise. I've heard it before. It's like the sound of iron chains swinging under weight but they need oiling. Like slowly swinging backwards and forwards, just enough for them to make a noise. But there’s no wind. I look in the direction of the sound but can see nothing of what’s making it. The noise lasts for about twenty seconds and then as quickly as it started, it’s gone. I call it the gibbet noise. Like I say, I've heard it before - at the other end of the holloway late at night when some other wyrdness happened.

There’s nothing to be seen. I check around and can see nothing that could be making that sound. I really do have a good hunt for the source because I want to be sure. There’s no farm machinery out in the open fields nearby, and nothing that could make that sound within the woodland. I’m so spooked!

I keep the dogs close to me, though they hardly seem bothered. I know people probably think it's just trees creaking - I know trees can creak, I'm well experienced in woodland noises.

I've spent so much time in the woods that I just don't get the heebie-jeebies about daft things. I've been wandering these woods since I was a kid. It wasn't windy, and it wasn't a tree creaking sound. Totally different.

Now, I know that not far from where I’m walking at the moment there used to be a Saxon long house. And also, I’m not far from a major barrow cemetery. I walk past the obvious barrows on my way here to this point. It's also a known thing around here that the Saxons liked to put the heads of people on stakes around the boundaries of these areas. One of the nearby places even takes its name from this fact. It's all in the historical records - I've looked it all up now. It was common practice to hang people on top of the barrows in these parts - something else I’ve also found out since researching. And, it was a very common thing around here for bodies to be hung up and displayed to deter anyone who would want to cause mischief. These Saxons didn't mess about!

See where I’m going here?

So, some normality returns to the woods and we carry on. I compose myself and decide to get away from that part of the woods, and I gladly do! I carry on walking. I’m a bit more aware of my surroundings now and the woodland opens up a bit more. I can see around further, though I keep turning back just to make sure no one is following. It's just me and the dogs. We reach a known clearing right at the top edge of the woods. It's an often-stopped point for us to have a drink.

I don't realise something is still wrong though.

We’re sat in the clearing, about fifty feet off the small main path. I’m just looking around, and everything is so still - again. I stare up and see something move in the trees. There's a kee-eew, kee-eew and a large brown buzzard then glides down from the canopy silently weaving through the tree trunks and disappears from sight. The dogs are laid down next to me by some big birch logs at this point, resting.

All of a sudden there’s a noise, and I hear this thumping sound. It seems odd. I don't know why, it just seems like a muted rhythmic thumping on the ground. My dogs just stay laying down though, they’re not sensing anything. I keep looking. No wind, no other noises, just this thumping on the ground getting closer.

All of a sudden this weird looking dog thing comes running along the path. This is like no dog I’ve seen in the woods before though! It looks like a cross between a large hyena and some kind of jackal thing. Spiky fur along its back that’s sticking straight up in the air like a mohawk on a punk hairstyle, but the full length of the dog’s back and along its body. Plus, it has this odd mottled black-brown camouflage pattern all over it in rough circles. It’s really belting along the path but the sound its feet make as it goes along sounds wrong for the speed. It’s this strange, muted thumping. And then it’s gone. I’m so scared! I have no idea what this animal was but it wasn't earthly, I know that. I don't think it looked at me, it just went by. I'm glad it didn't look.

I know, it's very easy to say it could have been this, or that. I can tell you it wasn't a deer, or someone's dog that got loose, or a sheep, nor a goat.

Like I said before, I can get close to most woodland animals, and I know what they look like day and night.

I have no idea what this was, apart from haunting. It was something else. I wouldn't want to have been on that path at the same time as it was. You know those beasts the Saxons drew or carved? Think along those lines. I don't know what else to tell you.

My dogs still don't react during all of this - it’s like nothing occurs. On the other hand, I’m practically shitting myself! I’m sure, had I been on that path that thing would have knocked me down or I don't know what. Also, it was going in the same direction I would soon be heading. I decide I’ll sit and wait where I am for another quarter of an hour or so in the hope that, whatever it was, it will have moved on.

While I sit, my mind begins to question what the hell I just saw. Where did that thing come from? A chilling thought quietly nags at me – did it follow me from the main barrow I passed? Or could it be from the barrow cemetery itself? I've heard of these guardians before, I've done nothing to disturb anything though so I quickly dismiss the idea and revisit it several times quickly, still shaken. Old tales of barrow wights are still occasionally told around here on dark nights along with stories about the Grim and the Black Shuck – dark dogs from folklore. Lesser-known whispers tell of shape-shifting creatures which can appear as a wild dog, suddenly appearing on lonely paths and in forests.

Just as these thoughts cross my mind a man appears, coming along on the left side of the path. I speak up and jokingly ask if he's lost a big dog. He ignores me. I say louder, has he seen that big dog? He doesn't seem to see or hear me at all. It's like I’m not even there.

He just carries on walking past in the same direction as the dog thing, not even acknowledging me. My dogs normally get protective if there are strangers near me. They stay silent though as this person goes by, and they don’t move which is really strange.

I watch him go off to the right, into the distance until I can no longer see him. I wait maybe fifteen minutes or more, pack up all my kit, and start on along the path again.

I don't think I really hear any normal sounds as I walk that old boundary edge - it just seems devoid of life. I pass some old yews. They're easily a thousand years old and cast a shade that creates its own atmosphere which is very dark and creepy enough in its own right. The path bends and leads past the main part of the old prehistoric barrow cemetery I mentioned earlier. I kind of zone out again as I walk along here, but things still aren't right.

Then I notice one of my dogs do his on-guard thing ahead of me and go low to the ground, waiting and pointing his snout in the direction of what's bothering him. I call him to come back, which he does. It's his normal reaction if there's a person ahead on the path when we're out. He's my early warning system - I ain’t a people person. I look but I can't see anyone, and then it's all silent again.

Then, the gibbet chain noise begins again - squeaking up in the air, somewhere in the field where the barrows are, though there's nothing else there. It’s the same noise as it was from the other side of the woods - this time though, it’s right where all the dead ancestors lay in the main part of the barrow cemetery.

The squeaking chain noise is all I can hear as I, now quickly, walk the woodland path. I’m calling my dogs to heel because I’m afraid this other weird dog thing is out here somewhere because this noise has started up again and it feels like it’s all connected. The chain sound lasts for twenty seconds or so, and then just stops. No fading in or out. It comes from one particular area which is where the barrows are, and there’s nothing else out there apart from those barrows. There's no way someone can be pranking me. Just no way. Anyone who knows me knows not to! Or they should do.

I pick up my pace to get away from this part of the woods. I very quickly emerge into a sunlit clearing with the dogs close by, and where the sounds of nature are back to normal. I stare back into the dark tunnel of the holloway expecting to see something follow. I don't linger at this point but I’m full of adrenaline. I know the paths around the edges of these barrows so I’m on familiar ground, and at this point I'm ready to head back out of the woods earlier than I usually would. I will say though that I'll stick by what I’ve written here.

There's only a few things that have scared me in the woods and this has been one of them.

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