By Elska á Fjárfelli

One of the more romantic sights of the Middle Ages is that of nobles riding horses, sporting birds of prey on their wrists to hunt small prey (anyone who has seen Ladyhawke knows exactly what I mean). The sport of falconry, or hawking, could be found throughout Europe but was reserved for those in power. Depending on their rank, different nobles were allowed to sport different species of birds:

An Eagle for an Emperor, a Gyrfalcon for a King; a Peregrine for a Prince, a Saker for a Knight, a Merlin for a Lady; a Goshawk for a Yeoman, a Sparrowhawk for a Priest, a Musket for a Holy water Clerk, a Kestrel for a Knave.” Selected from the Boke of St. Albans, 1486, and a Harleian manuscript – (1)

Falconry was a popular sport and status symbol among the nobles of medieval Europe, the Middle East, and Mongolian Empire. In this sport, the nobility would – supposedly – hunt small wild animals in their natural habitat with the use of a trained bird of prey. It is the common conception that falconry was largely restricted to the noble classes because of the commitment of time, money, and space. (2)(3) But what if there is another, more ominous, reason?

Fig 1: Detail of two falconers from De arte venandi cum avibus, 1240s (4)

While at first this might be a bit far-fetched, the recent discovery that birds are not real sheds a different light on this nobility-only restricted “hobby.” Instead of hunting for small game – a suspicious activity for those in power with access to the best of the best foodstuffs anyway – what if instead the nobility were using their falcon-drones to keep a close eye on their subjects? We now know birds are not real; they are, in fact, drone replicas installed by the government to spy on their citizens, and thus this would be a viable conclusion.

The Birds Aren’t Real movement, started by Peter McIndoe from Memphis, US, posits that “birds don’t exist and are really drone replicas installed by the U.S. government to spy on Americans.” Hundreds of thousands of young people have joined the movement, wearing Birds Aren’t Real T-shirts, swarming rallies and spreading the slogan. (5)

Technology has come a long way for modern people to not realize this at once – modern bird-drones are so well done they are nearly indistinguishable from real animals. Really, it makes much more sense that homing pigeons are computer guided; of course, they do not find their way home by themselves, flying rats that they are! But back in medieval times, bird-drones were still in development – often, hoods or caps were used to hide any glitches in the software otherwise visible in their optical lenses.

Fig. 2 – falcon-drone prototype as captured in stone dating back to the Viking age (7).

Fortunately for this paper, even though the medieval government, like it’s modern counterpart, did its best to hide any and all evidence of fake birds and falcon-drones (falcrones? faldrones?), one Viking age warrior saw through the ruse and went medieval to bring down an early prototype with his spear. (6) Thanks to him, we now have proof, literally written in stone (7) as was the custom of recording history at the time (8), that falcon-drones are real! And birds are not. Or are they?!

Happy April Fool’s day!
Elska

References:

1. A Kestrel for a Knave (2015) by Medieval manuscripts blog of the British Library
2. An approued treatise of hawkes and hawking (1619) by Edmund Bert
3. Lathams Falconry: Or, The Faulcons Lure, and Cure (1633) by Simon Latham
4. Fig 1 – Wikimedia Commons
5. Birds Aren’t Real, or Are They? Inside a Gen Z Conspiracy Theory (2021) by Taylor Lorenz for The New York Times
6. Middle Ages Reenactor Spears Drone Out Of The Sky – Unmanned Anachronistic Vehicle (2016) by Kelsey D. Atherton in Popular Science
7. Fig 2 – Image Gallery
8. The Viking-Age Rune-Stones: Custom and Commemoration in Early Medieval Scandinavia (2003) by Birgit Sawyer, published by Oxford University Press

Many “thank yous” go out to everyone who submitted something for the April Fool’s “Fake Research – Real Writing” challenge. Thank you for taking the time to read, and enjoy, each and every one of these articles. Aunt Æthel and I were most amused to read the creative thoughts of our artisans. We will judge all of the articles after they have been all posted on the Æthelmearc Gazette, and then announce the winner who will have the rights to brag about their win for the next year to anyone who would listen. – Caleb

by Mord Hrutsson

Keeping track of all the objects stored in an institution like the immense British Museum is a daunting task. The store-rooms of this museum are brimming with stuff that evan a hoarder trepidation.  It is perfectly natural that some objects have been, sadly, misplaced.

Such was the case when intern Agnes Hald (1) was exploring one of these storage rooms instead of having lunch at the pub.  Upon opening a cabinet whose pad-lock was so corroded some thought it an artifact, this intern found an whole series of objects that hadn’t seen light since they were put in there.

On the second shelf was a dust cover shoe box. Hald carefully took the box off the shelf. On the top cover faded writing in pencil said:

C W P; S. Piggot: Sutton Hoo: June 7, ‘39

Hald has said she could not believe her eyes. Still, the intern just as carefully put the box back in its place, closed the cabinet, and went to see her supervisor, Angela Carver.

Curator Carver understood that interns were allowed to “putter” about the museum storage rooms, so long as they were careful. For this reason, Hald’s report to Carver did not excite her. Conversely, taking a look would be a welcome respite from writing expense reports, which the Philistine Administrators demanded. Carver followed Hald to the box in question, read the writing, and made Hald promise to tell no one. After this, Carver opened the box.

Covered in tissue paper was a “scrunched-up” (2) object with a muddy reddish-brown color. The object was thin and torn. Carver concluded that whatever it was, the object was incomplete and very delicate. She also informed Hald that the artifact was either genuine or someone’s idea of a joke, and that she was going to look at C.W. Phillips and Stuart Piggot’s notes concern Sutton Hoo, which were kept in the archive. Hald began doing this the next day.

Meanwhile the object, box, tissue paper, and all were (literally) carted off to the Museum’s Conservation Department.  Head of the Department, Mr. H. Maryon Jr. correctly identified the shoe box as being from the late 1930s or early 1940s (3) and was impressed by the writing on the top. As for the contents of the box, he said nothing, but made noises that he was intrigued. Finding a better storage area, Maryon promised “to get to it” as soon as he was done writing a long expense report for the Museum Administrators. He mentioned that figuring how to take the reddish-brown object out of the box was “going to be tricky.”

One month later Maryon Jr. reported that the object was not leather, as first thought, but textile. This was determined after technician’s x-rayed the object, and plainly saw the weave. Further preliminary tests determined the textile was cotton, not linen (which is what the lab-techs originally thought.).

Meanwhile, Hald (4) had been reading through the notes of both C.W. Phillips and Stuart Piggot, who had originally found the item and extracted it. After some time, Hald found the following entry in Phillips’ notes for June 7th.

—Item # 42: found near iron complex. FRAGILE.  Leather?  Left in situ.—

And on June 8th.

—Item # 42, Leather, extracted into shoe box from Miss Pretty. S. Piggot did excellent job.

Hald made a copy of these entries, and reported her findings to Carver.

The eventual publication of the find (5) caused discussion among the archaeological community in general. Among the textile archaeologists, the find was cause for great deal of argument. A few scholars (dubbed “The Localists”) argued that, despite the burial’s connection with Byzantium, the object had to be made of flax. This debate was summarized by Hald (6), which included what the textile should be called—the “tea towel,” or the “bar rag.” It should be noted that the “surfer theory of migration” was completely rejected (6).

As it stands now, the textile is thought by most to be made of Egyptian cotton, and was a conversion gift along with the spoons found in the burial. The purpose of the textile cannot be discerned, since most believe it is a fragment of the original object. Still, more study is required concerning the trade connections within Europe in the 7th Century.

Notes

1. Hald, Agnes. “The Rusty Lock and the Cabinet.” Z-Drehen.Zietschrift fur Nerdigtextilvolk. Band 23, #87. (2024) ISSN: 0042-003X.
2. Carver, Angela, and A. Hald, H. Maryon Jr. “A Rediscovered Item from Sutton Hoo.” Bulletin for Early Medieval Antiquities. Vol. 6, No. 1 (2023). ISSN: 0476-1066.
3. Maryon Jr. H. et al. “Technical Aspects of Fragility, or How Do I Get This Out of the Box?” Newsletter for Museum Technical Stuff. (2025).
4. Hald. Ibid.
5. Carver, et al. Ibid.
6. The Surfer Theory of Migration states that the cause migration is the continuous search for beach-front property. By the way, this work is a hoax, brought on by the need to buy a 2nd towel, lo these many years ago, when Martin Carver was kind enough to allow volunteers to help at Sutton Hoo. The author is thankful to Professor Carver for the opportunity, and hopes he gets a laugh if he reads it.

Many “thank yous” go out to everyone who submitted something for the April Fool’s “Fake Research – Real Writing” challenge. Thank you for taking the time to read, and enjoy, each and every one of these articles. Aunt Æthel and I were most amused to read the creative thoughts of our artisans. We will judge all of the articles after they have been all posted on the Æthelmearc Gazette, and then announce the winner who will have the rights to brag about their win for the next year to anyone who would listen. – Caleb

Fake Research: Real Writing
By Maggie Rue

Much has been researched regarding the identity of the “Fair Youth” of whom William Shakespeare spent a large portion of time extolling the virtues, one that seemed to be an Adonis in physical beauty and amazing in every aspect. Yet this person remains unnamed and unknown, despite the devotion from the great poet and it becomes clear that Shakespeare acknowledged the special aspect of the sonnet subject while keeping that person at arm’s length. Some say this was a platonic love of Shakespeare’s while others insist that this was an actual physical lover. Some believe this was a young man for whom Shakespeare developed a father-son dichotomy or perhaps wanted to mentor.

Given the diversity of suggestive comments in Shakespeare’s sonnets, it becomes clear that the subject is none other than the Doctor, the alias assumed by a millennia-old humanoid alien called a Time Lord who travels through space and time in the TARDIS, and who continued to visit the burgeoning poet, and even perhaps took Shakespeare as a Companion for some time. By the time the Doctor left William Shakespeare back in his own time, the poet had a number of new ideas from which to create his library of works, but continued to eulogize the amazing entity that he had come to know and love.

One example of the Doctor’s influence in these sonnets is seen in Sonnet 3 when the poet states: “Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest, / Now is the time that face should form another”. By this point in their relationship, The Doctor had clearly visited this period of time repeatedly, and William Shakespeare understood that the visage of the Doctor transformed over time. Another example of this acknowledgement of the amazing reincarnating ability of the Doctor comes from Sonnet 6: “If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: / Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart, / Leaving thee living in posterity?” Whilst most people assume Shakespeare was overly obsessed with another man’s reproductivity, it is clear the poet was far more fascinated—and rightly so—with the Doctor’s ever-changing faces.

The Tardis itself received some recognition from Elizabethan wordsmith, notable in Sonnet 7 with the words “But when from highmost pitch with weary car, /  Like feeble age he reeleth from the day.” Indeed, it is with Sonnet Seven with its talk of weariness, “burning head” and “new-appearing sight,” one suspects that this was an occasion when Shakespeare went with the Doctor on one of his many adventures resulting in either a transformation or the witnessing of the Doctor’s good works saving the Earth from peril. Regardless of the event, the Sonnet reveals clearly the sound of the Tardis and the results of a wearisome battle. Shakespeare also lauds the journey in which he participated, as seen in Sonnet 15: “When I consider every thing that grows / Holds in perfection but a little moment. / That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows / Whereon the stars in secret influence comment.”

Thus, we also see certain personalities come forward. Indeed, the poet as Companion sees how one face may be kind or encouraging, but another be wrathful or fretful. The amazement with which Shakespeare notes his Doctor’s self-doubt and loathing: “But that thou none lov’st is most evident: / For thou art so possessed with murd’rous hate,” in Sonnet 10. This diverse personality change also is noted in Sonnet 117, where the poet states: “And on just proof surmise, accumulate, / Bring me within the level of your frown, / But shoot not at me in your wakened hate.” It is only natural that Shakespeare ask in Sonnet 53, “What is your substance, whereof are you made, / That millions of strange shadows on you tend?”

Lastly, a strong argument for Shakespeare and the Doctor traveling together is seen with the frequent discussion of “time” and how it controls—not the fair youth’s countenance so much as the subject’s very existence. An example is seen in Sonnet 126, the very last of the Fair Youth sonnets: “She keeps the to this purpose, that her skill / May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill. / Yet fear her O thou minion of her pleasure, / She may detain, but not still keep her treasure!” Another example is seen in Sonnet 16: “But wherefore do not you a mightier way / Make war upon this bloody tyrant Time?” Such comments seem more about the Doctor’s attempts to change certain situations in time rather than a silly moment of self-vanity.

And so it appears that Shakespeare comments on his many adventures with the Doctor as a Companion on the Tardis. Certainly, it can be scoffed at that Shakespeare was instead talking of some lover or romantic interest at home living somewhere in England. It is important to add the final piece of evidence as seen in Sonnet 31: “Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, / Which I by lacking have supposed dead.” Talking of the Doctor’s unique anatomy, it can only be concluded that the unnamed Fair Youth in fact needed no name, having only been called The Doctor during their time together. Eventually the Companion and Doctor must depart, and Shakespeare acknowledges this separation in Sonnet 87: “Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, / And like enough thou know’st thy estimate.”

It is clear that William Shakespeare met someone that seemed to encompass the universe for the young poet, resulting in a fascination and obsession for someone who astounded, impressed, and amazed him. From the broad hints and references to time and space, it becomes all too obvious that the Time Lord was a friend of Shakespeare, and saw in him that special something that compelled the Doctor to return on a number of occasions to see him in the 1600s. In that sense, the Doctor helped Shakespeare become something of an immortal himself.

Many “thank yous” go out to everyone who submitted something for the April Fool’s “Fake Research – Real Writing” challenge. Thank you for taking the time to read, and enjoy, each and every one of these articles. Aunt Æthel and I were most amused to read the creative thoughts of our artisans. We will judge all of the articles after they have been all posted on the Æthelmearc Gazette, and then announce the winner who will have the rights to brag about their win for the next year to anyone who would listen – Caleb

Fake Research: Real Writing
by Caleb Reynolds

We are taught that London burned down in 1667 because of a fire that started in a bakery on Pudding Lane. When the fire was brought under control, four days later, more than four-fifths of the city was destroyed. Miraculously, only 16 people were known to have died. Was this due to advanced fire-fighting technology or was this because the fire was actually planned to destroy a kaiju? A “dragon”, if you will. Granted, the people of 17th century London would not have used the word “kaiju” as Godzilla movies did not appear in England until the mid 1950s. The natives would have used such language as was familiar to them. And since Jacobean English had few Japanese words mixed in with it, they would have turned to their own legends and used the word “dragon” to describe the giant beasts that roamed the country.

In 1217, there was a beast of a sea monster that prowled the Thames river; some references referred to it at 300 stone in size. The poem “The Dragon of Wantley”, first published in 1685, recounts an legendary monster that ravaged the land in the mid 15th-century.

All sorts of cattle this dragon did eat.
Some say he ate up trees,
And that the forests sure he would
Devour up by degrees:
For houses and churches were
to him geese and chickens
He ate all, and left none behind,
but some stones, dear Jack,
that he could not crack,
Which on the hills you will find. [1]

Geoffrey Of Cambria’s 1455 “The History of Britain” recounts what might have been the same monster.

Then a great dragon began to ravage the country-side with fire and alone did a single knight take arms against it, and in the end, was the victor. All night long did the raging flames swept o’er the land and the water, and all withered and burned at it’s touch. The dragon had burned up the people’s homes and fields. The city did burn as likewise did the ships and the water-skirted land was devastated. Not ‘til the touch of dawn did the dragon end it’s destruction and retreat to its lair. Great faith did it have in the safety of its hiding place, but it’s faith was to be futile.

While stories of giant dragons continued to be written, in England, after the Great Fire, [2] no credible accounts of dragons were recorded. I feel that the last of the great, English kaijus was killed in London, in 1667. While there are many conspiracy theories that have survived even to this day, (Freemasons started the fire to create more work for themselves; French and Dutch agents started it to punish the English for their pie eating habits; Charles II started it as revenge for London’s support of Parliament during the Civil War; Robert Hubert claimed to start the fire in Westminster but it got out of hand when the wind shifted.) [3]

Illumination of an medieval kaiju.

The 200 foot tall monument to the fire might be a clue as to the size of the kaiju that attacked the city. It is possible that the kaiju was lured to the city to destroy it, hence the few fatalities recorded, as the population was told “to remove themselves and Goods into the open fields” [4] for their own safety. “The London Gazette” recounts the fight against the monster with chilling words:

…pulling down houses…”, “Too big to be mastered by any Engines or working near it.” “About the Tower the seasonable orders given …to secure the Magazines of Powder.” “…but all in vain, the [monster] seizing upon the Timber and Rubbish and so continuing it self, even through those spaces, and raging in a bright flame all Monday and Tuesday, notwithstanding His Majesties own, and His Royal Highness’s indefatigable and personal pains to apply all possible remedies to prevent it.

Finally, the monster was defeated. Again, from “The London Gazette”:

…by the falling … upon a Pile of Wooden buildings; but his Royal Highness, who watched there that whole night in Person, by the great labors and diligent [used], and especially by applying Powder to blow up the Houses about it, before day most happily it [stopped].” “On Thursday by the blessing of God it was wholly beat down and extinguished.

London was destroyed, but its citizens lived and the last of the great English kaijus was dead.

Footnotes

[1] “The Dragon of Wantley”, quoted from Thomas Percy’s “Reliques of Ancient Poetry”
[2] Even an opera was written in the 18th-century.
[3] These are all actual conspiracy theories about the fire.
[4] “The London Gazette”

References

• Æthel, Aunt. “Models of Dragons Are Not To Scale.” Aunt Æthel’s Big Blog of Baloney. Created on February 31st, 1987.
• Anonymous. The Dragon of Wantley, quoted in Thomas Percy’s Reliques of Ancient Poetry (17th Century)
• Anonymous. “The London Worm?” Punch Magazine. Unknown Volume. 1891.
• Bell, Walter. The Great Fire of London in 1666. New York Bodley Head. 1923.
• Jones, Terry, and Alan Ereira. Terry Jones’ Medieval Lives. London: BBC, 2004.
• Mortimer, Ian. The Time Traveler’s Guide to Elizabethan England. New York: Penguin Books, 2013.
• Moxon, Steve. The Dragon of Wantley. Creative Commons, May 2013
• Shorpe, L. Geoffrey of Cambria’s The History of Britain. London: Penguin Books Ltd. 1981
• “The London Gazette – Fire of London” The London Gazette. Published by Authority From Monday September 3 to Monday September 10 1666. British Library. Timelines: Sources from History.

The first in the series: many “thank yous” go out to everyone who submitted something for the April Fool’s “Fake Research – Real Writing” challenge. Thank you for taking the time to read, and enjoy, each and every one of these articles. Aunt Æthel and I were most amused to read the creative thoughts of our artisans. We will judge all of the articles after they have been all posted on the Æthelmearc Gazette, and then announce the winner who will have the rights to brag about their win for the next year to anyone who would listen – Caleb & Aunt Æthel