Let me introduce you to the bizarre world of Toad Men — the unsung magicians of the marshes.
IT ALL STARTS WITH PLINY...YEAH, THE ROMAN LAD.
To kick off this wild tale, we have to go back. I mean way back — like, 1st century Roman Empire back. Our man Pliny the Elder, the original history nerd, had some questionable hobbies. When he wasn’t documenting volcanoes or sniffing around for plants that supposedly cured baldness, he was coming up with mad ideas about toads.
In his big ol’ book Naturalis Historia, Pliny reckons that the bones of a toad could work magic. I’m talking bones that could cool down boiling water, heat it up again, heal fevers, and even help you bag a lover (for better or worse).
Now, fast-forward a couple thousand years, and Pliny’s tales are still alive and kicking in the Fens, where people love a good supernatural story as much as they love avoiding potholes.
THE MAGIC BONE - HOW DOES IT WORK?
The Fens are known for many things: flat landscapes, right-wind voters, and wet feet. But they’ve also got a rich history of magic and folklore, where the toad bone took on a life of its own. The legend goes that one particular bone from a dead toad could give its owner the power to control everything from people to animals. Imagine having that kind of influence — like Dr. Doolittle, but with a weirder backstory and more mud.
The toad bone is said to grant the owner the power to immobilise and control not only horses, but also pigs and cattle. In a county where most people lived cheek by jowl with their livestock, and relied on them for their very survival, having some sort of control over the natural world was a longed-for gift.
It didn't end with livestock either, some accounts tell tales of Toadmen being able to see in the dark and open locked doors with just a touch - pretty cool, right?
THE WEIRD RITUAL
Now, getting your hands on this magic toad bone wasn’t exactly straightforward. You didn’t just find a toad, pop it in your pocket, and call it a day. Oh no, this was some next-level folklore DIY.
Step 1: Catch a toad. Preferably one that isn’t already roadkill.
Step 2: Place it on an ant hill
Step 3: Let ants strip the flesh off the bones. Nature’s version of cleaning up.
Step 4: Gather the bones, then toss them into a moonlit stream.
Why moonlit? Because nothing magical ever happens in daylight, obviously.
Now here’s the kicker: the bone that floats upstream — against the current — is your magic one. This is where it gets serious. You’ve got to grab it fast, because according to legend, the Devil himself is lurking, ready to snatch it before you can, or bargain your soul for it.
So there you are, standing knee-deep in a Fen stream, yelling at Old Nick to back off while you wrestle a floating toad bone out of the water. Pure madness, right?
Welcome to the Fens.
THE TAKEAWAY
The Fens are flat, the folklore is wild, and the Toad Men were the ultimate marshland wizards.
They didn’t need fancy wands or Hogwarts-style capes — just a dead toad, some ants, and a moonlit river. And maybe a good pair of boots for all that muck.
Whether it was stopping horses in their tracks, seeing in the dark, or keeping the Devil at bay, these lads had it sorted. All thanks to Pliny’s ancient obsession with toads.
So next time you’re out in the Fens, keep an eye on those streams. Who knows, you might just spot a magic bone floating by — or catch a glimpse of a Toad Man lurking in the mist, watching you from the shadows. 🐸✨
And if the Devil shows up... well, good luck with that one.
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