5th Day of Xmas: Bringing in the Boar Day

[Cue the music!]  On the Fifth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me/FIVE...GOLDEN...PIGS!

Alas, the Fifth Day of Christmas may not light your fancy, I fear, if only for lack of wild boar in the area.  (Of course, if you’re talking Chambana, Illinois, there really isn’t much wild anything).  Even so, the Fifth Day is “Bringing in the Boar Day,” and by that is meant not so much a male domestic pig as his wild cousin: longer-legged and therefore faster, and fiercer, and tougher than the roly-poly, stubby-legged and relatively hairless source of our bacon and ham.  The scientific designation for the wild boar is Sus scrofa; in pig farming areas, they call it Su-EY! scruffy.

...I'm joking.

Check out how long-legged this boar is:

 
 

Wild boar range in size from 150 to 600 pounds, generally.  However, the largest documented specimen weighed 1,100 pounds!  For feral hogs (including in the U.S.), which are some mixture of wild boar and feral domesticated hogs, female adults average 150-170 lb, males 200-220 lb, with the occasional "hogzilla" approaching or exceeding a half ton (with 5-6" tusks!).

A fun (but gory!) fact to illustrate the stern stuff of which Suey scruffy is made:  the boar hunter of the pre-firearms era used a spear, the base of which he would plant in the ground behind him, holding the point of the lance at chest level on the boar.  Now, if one used a plain old spear, the boar would likely as not run right into the spear and keep on running even as the spear exited his backside, thereafter to go ahead and tear up the hunter with his self-sharpening tusks, regardless of having been entirely skewered.   So knowing their quarry, the hunters used a spear with a cross-piece at sufficient distance from the butt so as to keep the hunter safe from the savage momentum of the enraged swine.

Also, in the photo below, notice how the jaw bones flare out to the back, protecting the neck.  The protruding cheek bones offer similar protection.  Like as not, the boar will be charging you head-on.  Whether lancing with a spear, or shooting with a rifle, you have to hit this animal just right.

In a comparison of wild animals ranked by the how fast they are + their endurance + how much of a head start a running human would need to leave them behind, the wild boar came in third, behind the black and brown bear.  Outrunning these three beasts is the height of futility; climb a tree, if you can, or keep a tree between you and it. 

Obviously, such an animal has totemic significance, as people sometimes need ferocity—and who couldn’t use more toughness?  Even though you may have a gun, and dogs--even though he is doomed--a wild boar may attack you, and if you're not careful, tear up your legs with his tusks.  Those weapons of his are positioned perfectly on his head to gouge out your inner thigh with its major artery, leaving you to bleed out.

Even so, who wants to be like a pig?  Well in fact, the boar has long been a hero/warrior symbol, and as such courage and nobility are part of the lesson it teaches us.  Many don’t realize that the Warrior archetype in its purest form is not only about fighting, but also includes self-sacrifice in service to a cause, whether that involves actual blood warfare or not.   In other words, the likes of King, Ghandi and Mandela partook of this energy with particular intensity, though they used peaceful methods.  Indeed, pacifists can very well get into Warrior mode to make war on war itself!  If they have the tenacity of a warrior, or a boar, they just might help create a more peaceful world.



The boar has the additional characteristic of groundedness, since they are champion rooters and truffle-snuffers—and that’s a very good thing, since an ungrounded warrior is a very bad thing…

Heightened ability to strategize is also said to be part of this totem, and (as night follows day) prosperity.  This may be all the more striking when one considers the great, shining, golden-bristled boar "Gulli-burstin," whom Frey, the Norse god of sunshine, rode across the sky to create the daytime.  The bristles sticking out represent the rays of the sun--get it?  Gold is a symbol of wholeness, and certainly (as night follows day) prosperity.  Of course the sun itself (HERself, the Norse would say) well represents the very abundance that it kindles so naturally.

And so we return to the most basic level, in which we are reminded that the Twelve Days are Solstice revels in honor of the slowly-but-surely returning sun (BTW: today is 162 secs.—that’s 2+ mins.—longer than Dec. 21st was.  Woot-woot!).

Not only the Norse told tales of mythological swine.  Here is a blurb from the web site Kitchen Witch: “The Celts believed that the Boar, which they called Torc or Bacrie, was their ally in war and there are many Celtic myths surrounding this noble animal. A famous Irish legendary boar was Orc Triath, which the Goddess Brigit owned. In the Arthurian tales of the Mabinogion the boar Twrch Trwyth was a terrible foe to Arthur. The White Boar of Marvan sent inspiration to its master to write music and poetry (this was also true of Orc Triath).”…You’ve gotta love that last bit, right?  Next time you feel uninspired, go hang out with some mythological swine.

—Or attend, or host, a feast.  Because the boar (unfortunately for him) represents also the sacred principles of feasting, and hospitality.  Unfortunately for the SPECIES, it seems to have been a British custom to carry in a boar’s head on this day, singing a certain carol (the parading of the boar’s head in the present day at Queen’s College of Oxford University is probably an echo of this), as was more generally the eating of boar.  As a result,  the beast was virtually extinct in Britain by the 1100’s.  Now, when I was in Spain, things were different.  I walked across that whole country, and never saw one deer, rabbit, or squirrel.  But I saw wild boar face to face several times.  At one point, as I lay puking my guts out from giardia infection in the mountains, an animal came in the night, smelled me and my vomit, snorted, and took off.  Smart pig, she went off to fatten herself up on some acorns instead.

So again, it’s a question of questions  (to ask yourself): In what field(s) of endeavor in particular do I need more Warrior spirit—discipline, sacrifice, honor?  Where do I need more courage?  More basically, what cause can I dedicate myself to?  And how do I remain grounded when guided by a vision or mission?...What about throwing a party, a feast, sometime in the near future?  Alternatively, can I engage ongoingly in smaller acts of hospitality?

You could make a bristly “boar’s head” out of half a pineapple stuck with toothpicks festooned with cheese/ham cubes, marascino cherries, grapes or what have you.  Soak a bit of string in water and curl it around a pencil, then stick it in the freezer--when it freezes, you have a curly pig tail.  Cut off a bit of one end to reveal the golden fruit, and stick two cherries there for eyes, plus a crescent apple slice for a mouth.  ...At the very least, I encourage you to leave an apple or orange on your stoop tonight for the Great Golden Boar—and may he reward you with the best traits of Warrior, prosperous Host of merry feasts, or even the inspiration for a poem or song!

Or, if you hunt, and you have a Louisiana Catahoula Leopard Dog, or a Blue Lacy Hound, and a fearless pit bull, you can go bag yourself some feral pigs.  As mentioned above, most of these have been crossed with wild boar, descendants of escapees who had been imported from Europe and corraled on game ranches across the U.S.  They and look (and run) more like Suey scruffy than like domestic pigs; they have a hairy hide, and have long legs. 

If your hunt is successful, you will be doing ecosystems in 44 states a favor, because these pigs are a pox upon the land, to be sure.  North American plants did not evolve to accomodate their rooting, wallowing ways, and, being omnivores like ourselves, they eat eggs and chicks and amphibians and the young of other animals.  Their presence is driving native species to endangerment and extinction as we speak (as are we humans--let's be honest).  They also wreak heavy damage on farmers' fields.  So, really, it's OK to kill them, even if you're a vegan because you care about the Environment.  They do not belong here, and all the beasts that might thin their numbers--cougar, black bear, grizzly, wolves--are in short supply, thanks to us.  Plus, wild boar meat is leaner and healthier than pork, being of higher nutritional value and having a much higher concentration of essential amino acids....However, with these feral pigs, you have to beware of trichinosis and other parasites and diseases (such as--yikes--hepatitis), so have your meat checked out, and cook it thoroughly.

TO READ: “Annie O’Reilly and the Magic Dancing Pig” from More Irish Folk Tales for Children by Sharon Kennedy; The Golden Bristled Boar by Jeffrey Greene, "Mabon Son of Modron" (a Welsh King Arthur tale of hunting the terrible boar Tyrch Trwth)--my favorite version of it is at the bottom of this blog entry, in its entirety.

MUSICAL CHOICES: (available on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLdartdqjh56CMxj8VBAlWg_UcTQzIrk0i )

BOARS/PIGS
“The Boar’s Head Carol” by The Chieftains or Steeleye Span (this is the song they sing at Queen’s College);
“Hunter” by Dido; 
“War Pigs” by Black Sabbath;
“Piggies” by the Beatles; “Pigs” by Pink Floyd;
AND a long, long list of songs with the sun as it's theme.  You'll have your favorites, here's a list of mine that seem appropriate for The Fifth Day:

SUN
"Here Comes the Sun,"
"I'll Follow the Sun,"
"The Sun King" and
"Good Day Sunshine" by the Beatles;

"All For the Love of Sunshine" by Hank Williams, Jr.;
"Let the Sun Shine In" by The Fifth Dimension;
"Cold Day in the Sun" by Foo Fighters;
"Country Sunshine" by Dottie West;
"Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" by Elton John;
"Invisible Sun" by The Police;
"Island in the Sun" by Weezer;
"Keep on the Sunny Side" by The Carter Sisters/Soggy Bottom Boys;
"Miss Sun" by Boz Scaggs;
"Paper Sun" by Traffic;
"People of the Sun" by Rage Against the Machine;
"A Place in the Sun" by Stevie Wonder;
"Soak Up the Sun" by Cheryl Crow;
"Sun Comes Up It's Tuesday Morning" by Cowboy Junkies;
"Sun Goddess" by Earth, Wind and Fire;
"Sun Is Shining" by Bob Marley;  
"Sun's Gotta Shine" by Wilma Burgess;
"Sunshine" by the O'Jays;
"Sunshine Superman" by Donovan;
"Waiting For the Sun" by The Doors;
"Walkin' On the Sun" by Smashmouth

WARRIORS
"Warriors" by Imagine Dragons
"Warrior" by Aurora
"Heros" by David Bowie
"Hurt" by Johnny Cash
"My Hero" by Foo Fighters
"Kryptonite" by Three Doors Down
"Billy, Don't Be a Hero" by Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods
"Heros Are Hard to Find" by Fleetwood Mac
"Hero Worship" by the B52s
"Hero of the Day" by Metallica
"Working Class Hero" performed by John Lennon/Marianne Faithful (the Faithful version is very gritty and cool)
"Heros and Villains" by the Beach Boys
"Waiting for Superman" by the Flaming Lips
"Superman" by R.E.M.
"Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" by Flaming Lips
"Superman" by Goldfinger

 
 MABON SON OF MODRON

Welsh Mythology tells us the story of Mabon ap Modron or the "the Great Son of the Great Mother". Mabon was an ancient God, born of Modron at the beginning of time, so long ago that even in the time of King Arthur, hardly anyone had ever even heard of Them. The only thing that anyone remembered of Mabon ap Modron was that when He was but three nights old, He was mysteriously stolen from His mother's side.

The story of Mabon's return begins with a young man called Culhwch (KESH-lookh). Culhwch was a brave young knight, who one day came across the lovely Olwen (Goddess of Beauty). Olwen was the daughter of Ysbaddaden (iss-pa-THAW-then), the Giant Chieftain, who was under a geis, or a doom.

No man had ever gone to the giant's fort and escaped alive, for Ysbaddaden knew that he would meet his death upon the day his daughter wed. He set 39 impossible tasks, which included so many heroic tasks and dangerous quests that it would take an army of heroes one hundred years to finish them, a separate volume to record them, and a course in Old Welsh merely to pronounce them. This he told each would-be suitor, that is, if he was able to survive the initial meeting of Ysbaddaden. Culhwch was fearful, but determined. Ysbaddaden then told Culhwch if he were able to complete each task, he would then have to bring the head of the Great Boar, Tyrch Trwth (terkh trooth). For between the ears of this boar lay a mirror, comb and razor, the items which must be used to prepare Ysbaddaden for his daughter's wedding. And the only one who could kill Tyrch Trwth was Mabon ap Modron, who was stolen from his mother's side at only three nights old. Culhwch accepted each challenge and confidently vowed to complete each quest victoriously.

"I need help," he thought to himself, "This quest is too much for one young knight to do alone. I must go to the court of my cousin, King Arthur, and ask him to send some of his champions with me."

Culhwch was greeted warmly at his cousin, King Arthur's court. Culhwch told the court of his great mission, and King Arthur, who had always loved a good love story, was touched by his young cousin's resolve.

"I will send three of my most trusted companions to help you find Mabon and rescue him," Arthur promised. He chose Cai (kay), Arthur's foster brother; Eidoel (AY-dol), who was called Mabon's kinsman; and Gwrhyr (GOOR-hear), Interpreter of Tongues, who could speak all the languages of all the peoples and animals of the world.

They wandered the earth searching for the Oldest Animals, and ask them if they could remember what happened to Mabon. At last they came upon the home of the ancient birth known as the Ouzel (Blackbird) of Cilgwri (kil-GOOR-ee).

"Ouzel of Cilgwri," Gwrhyr said, "we are Arthur's messengers, come to ask you in the name of all that is sacred if you have news of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken from His mother's side when he was only three nights old."

The Blackbird told them "I have been here a long time. When I first came here, there was a smith's anvil, and I was a young bird. No work was done on that anvil except for when my beak lay upon it in the evening, and today there is not even a nut of it that has not been worn away. But in all that time, I have not heard of Mabon, son of Modron. But since you come from Arthur, I will guide you to a place where there is an animal older than me."

Ouzel guided them through the forest until they came to the home of the Stag of Rhedynfre (reh-DEN-vray). The stag was very ancient. His antlers had so many points they looked like a forest of many-branched trees growing out of his head.

"Stag of Rhedynfre," Gwrhyr said, "we are Arthur's messengers, come to ask you in the name of all that is sacred if you have news of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken from His mother's side when he was only three nights old."

"I have been here a long time. When I first came here, there was only one small antler point on each side of my head, and there were no trees here except for a single oak sapling. That grew into an oak of a hundred branches, and the oak fell and wore away and today there is nothing left of it but a red stump. But in all that time, I have heard nothing of Mabon, son of Modron. But since you come from Arthur, I will guide you to a place where there is an animal older than me."

The Stag guided them through the forest until at last they came to a deep woods, where the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd (coom COWL-id) lived.

"Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd," Gwrhyr said, "we are Arthur's messengers, come to ask you in the name of all that is sacred if you have news of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken from His mother's side when he was only three nights old."

"I have been here a long time. When I first came here, I was a young bird, and this whole valley was an ancient forest. People came and cut down all the trees. In time, a new forest grew up, and then new people came and cut it down, and this now is the third wood. And look at me! My wings are worn to mere stumps, I am so old. And in all that time, I have heard nothing of Mabon, son of Modron. But since you are Arthur’s messengers, I will be your guide to a place where the eldest of us all lives."

The Owl guided them through the forest and up to a high mountain, where the Eagle of Gwernabwy (gwer-NAH-bwee) lived.

"Eagle of Gwernabwy," Gwrhyr said, “we are Arthur's messengers, come to ask you in the name of all that is sacred if you have news of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken from His mother's side when he was only three nights old."

"I have been here a long time. When I first came here, I had a stone so tall and high, that from its top I could peck at the stars, and now it is worn away so small that your hand could cover it. And in all that time, I have heard nothing of Mabon, son of Modron."

Discouraged, the Companions prepared to leave, the Eagle had been their last hope in finding what happened to Mabon ap Modron. Wherever He was, He was imprisoned forever. But then the Eagle spoke again.

"Once I flew as far as Llyn Llyw (shlin shloo) seeking food. I saw a huge silver fish swimming in the lake. I tried to catch him, thinking he would make a tasty dinner, but he pulled me under and I barely escaped with my life. I gathered all my kin to seek vengeance, but he sent messengers of peace. He came and asked my help in removing tridents that had been thrown at him. I pulled 50 out with my talons, and we became friends. If he doesn’t know something of the person you seek, no one does! I will be your guide, and take you to where he lives."

The Eagle guided them down the mountain, through the valleys, and finally along the river until they came upon the shores of Llyn Llyw. There they saw the great Salmon swimming in the clear water.

"Salmon of Llyn Llyw," the Eagle said, "I have come with Arthur’s messengers, seeking new of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken from His mother's side when He was only three nights old. In the name of all that is sacred, tell us what you know."

"This is what I know," the Salmon told them, "On every high tide I go up the river to Caer Loyw (care loy), and there I hear the sounds of such suffering that never in my life have I heard such distress before. Two of you come on my back, and I will take you there."

The salmon then took Gwrhyr and Cai on his shoulders to the walls of Caer Loyw, a dark and terrifying castle, and on the other side of the walls, they could hear the sound of crying and wailing.

"Who is that crying and wailing in this house of stone?" Gwrhyr called.

"It is I, Mabon, son of Modron," they heard in reply, "and I have reason to cry, for no one was ever so miserable as I am, imprisoned here."

"How can you be freed? Can you be ransomed for gold and silver or worldly wealth, can you be freed with peaceful talking, or must you be freed by fighting?"

"No gold or silver or worldly goods, nor even peaceful talking can free me," came the answer, "I can only be freed by fighting and battle."

"Don't despair! We will go and get aid from King Arthur, and surely we shall free you!"

Gwrhyr and Cai returned with the Salmon to where Eidoel waited with Culhwch. They thanked the Salmon and make their way back to King Arthur's court, where they told their story.

Arthur quickly agreed to lend aid to the imprisoned Mabon, and gathering all his warriors, they all made their way back to Caer Loyw, and besieged the castle where Mabon was held prisoner. While Arthur and his warriors attacked the front of the castle, Cai and Gwrhyr again traveled on the back of the great Salmon. And when they reached the gate, Cai broke through the wall and took Mabon upon his back. He carried Him out of the castle, and this is how Mabon, son of Modron, was freed at long last.

"How can I ever thank you?" Mabon asked them when the battle was over and He at long last stood on the outside of His prison.

"Help me with my quest," Culhwch said, "Only You can succeed in hunting the Great Boar Tyrch Trwth and winning from him the mirror, the comb and the razor that lie between his ears."

So they set off into the deepest forest any of them had ever seen. Day and night they traveled, and always, Mabon led the way, guided by His instinct. At last, as the sun set on the third day, they heard a great snorting and bellowing and stamping in the woods. Quickly they took their places on either side of the path. Then, with a roar like a hundred lions, the giant boar came rushing out of the forest. He was big as an elephant, with tusks as long as a small tree and sharp as a knife, and between his ears was a mirror, a comb, and a razor.

Mabon ap Modron, stood tall and unafraid, and thrust His spear deep into the Boar's heart. With a bellow that shook leaves from the trees five leagues around, the Great Boar died. Culhwch took the mirror, the comb and the razor from between the boar's ears, and he and his companions went back to the castle of the giant chieftain, Ysbaddaden. They carried Tyrch Trwth in a sling among the five of them, to be roasted for the wedding feast.

Ysbaddaden turned pale when he saw that Culhwch had returned successfully. Sighing, with tears running from his eyes, he allowed the companions to comb his hair and shave his beard while he gazed at himself in the mirror. Then Culhwch and Olwen were married, and a great feast of pork was held. And when all the feasting and rejoicing was done, they cut off the giant’s head