Not always friendly. Often manipulative. And an alarming lack of barrows.

29 January 2026

Welcome to issue 23 of Tales from the Chase, a weekly newsletter for Cranborne Chase. Local events. Odd tales. Mildly strange goings-on. All delivered by email, free, and occasionally unhinged (in a charming way). Was this email forwarded to you? You can sign up for free by clicking below!

welcome, strange companions

This week in the Chase

The Chase is getting soggier. Winterbournes rise, springs spring, and some of us are wondering if it’s time to move the log store above the floodline before the water decides for us. This week, Isla considers the subtle hazards of dog walking in the Elsewhere, while Hubert wanders the parish of Chilmark, a land of stone, bats, and other stories.

Dogs and the perilous realm

After last week’s issue and the guide to walking forgotten paths, several readers wrote in with variations on a theme: “Why on earth shouldn’t I take my dog?”

I asked Isla Cobb, our local folklore expert, to explain. Over tea and cake in the café at Broad Chalke, she shared her thoughts.

“People don’t always understand why they shouldn't take their dog” she admitted. “But hopefully they do understand that actions have consequences, and that they won’t always like them. Maybe the guide doesn’t spell that out enough.”

I asked about the warning that dogs might chew something important.

“It might seem like a joke,” she said, “but it’s entirely serious. I once saw a terrier make off with a bone that was holding a boundary in place. Ordinary-looking thing. The results were… inconvenient. Three farms over by Semley lost a whole afternoon. One never got its cows back.”

“So it’s a matter of safety?” I asked.

“Yes. Animals don’t have the same filters humans do. Humans are very good at not seeing. It’s our main survival skill. Animals notice things far more readily than we do.”

“Well, that sounds like taking a dog along could be helpful,” I said.

“Yes, in a way, but only if you consider the consequences and are prepared to accept them,” Isla replied. “A dog in the Elsewhere attracts attention, makes them vulnerable, and by extension, makes the owner vulnerable too.”

“Can you explain that a bit more?” I asked.

“Well, some of the things that you might encounter take an interest in animals, in a specific way. Not in a way you’d approve of. Not always friendly. Often manipulative. They have their own purposes.”

“People say, ‘Something took my dog.’ Often, they’re right. Because something thought it was a gift. Something was drawn to it in a way they would not be drawn to a human. And they believed they had a right to have it."

“Dogs announce their arrival with things that are easily sensed by many non-human presences; things like unfiltered perception, loyalty, a strong sense of 'belonging to someone'. Those that inhabit the other worlds, attracted by these qualities or instincts, will come looking; and when they find the source (your dog), they will act".

"So they may call your dog away with whistles, or appear in the shape of another dog, luring it away, perhaps to chase something unseen.”

"Or they may take the form of prey (a hare, a stag, a shadow) and lead your dog across a threshold beyond which it can't return. The dog becomes a kind of symbolic sacrifice. Best to accept; because the human who follows may be drawn far deeper into the Elsewhere than they'd like".

“It’s basically an exchange,” she said. “It takes your gift, your dog, its instincts, devotion, loyalty, and in return you are granted safe passage. But if you follow, you risk becoming part of the deal. It takes you too.”

"Some of these entities feed on the moment a dog realises its human is not following, or cannot be reached. Luring the dog away, separating it from its owner, is done deliberately to provoke a response (loss, confusion, fear) so they can feed on it".

I raised my eyebrows.

"They feed on the emotion, not the dog", Isla clarified.

“Why not just keep your dog on a lead?” I asked.

“Fine in our world", she said. "But if you find yourself in the Elsewhere, and if the dog wants to run, you should let it go. Because if you pull, try to hold it back, whatever is calling may decide it will take the pair of you. Things could escalate.You can't thwart them in that way, they won't take it kindly.”

“So does this mean a dog is always in danger there? And also a danger to its owner?”

Isla shook her head. “Not always. Most of the time, nothing happens. Which is exactly how folklore works. Otherwise, this would be a documentary. But there's always the risk. Would you take it?”

So by all means, enjoy your usual dog walks in the Chase. Let your dog sniff along the hedgerows to their heart’s content. The Chase is beautiful, and four-legged companions can make it richer.

But taking the forgotten paths that lead to the perilous realm of the Elsewhere? Stay well clear. Maybe the FFS guide is right after all.

A parish by parish tour of the Chase

chilmark

Chilmark sits astride the B3089 in Wiltshire, stretching north up onto the chalk of Chilmark Down and south toward the River Nadder. The parish includes the village itself, along with the tiny hamlets of Mooray, Portash, and Ridge, and has a population of roughly 525.

The name travelled far: early settlers from Chilmark helped christen Chilmark, Massachusetts, on Martha’s Vineyard (USA) in the late 17th century.

For more, see Hubert’s guide to Chilmark below. All opinions are his own, and may not be shared by Tales from the Chase, or anyone of sound mind.

CHILMARK

Ah, Chilmark. Here lies a tale of stone. If Chilmark were forced to summarise itself in one word, at knife-point, preferably, it most likely would not say history, community, or bats. It would say stone.

The local limestone is fine-grained, pale, and durable. The old village is quite literally built out of the land it stands on. Houses, walls, barns, the church; all assembled from the same material that was cut out of the ground with hand tools in days long gone.

Some say it was possibly used for packing around the upright stones of Stonehenge, and on an Iron-Age site at Fifield Bavant. There's some evidence it was used for building in the Roman period.

The same type of stone was taken from quarries in Tisbury, and Teffont Evias, and all were important sources of building stone in the Middle Ages.

But let's not diminish Chilmark's glory just because its eponymous stone may have come from these imposters. Who got to have the stone named after it? Chilmark did. History is written by the quarry with the best branding.

The stone was used in Wilton Abbey, Old Sarum, Salisbury Cathedral, and in several Wiltshire parish churches. It was used in Longford Castle in Britford, Fonthill Abbey in Fonthill Gifford, and in Westminster Abbey. Chichester Cathedral too.

So blocks of stone extracted here went on to have meaningful careers in great buildings and impressive structures in (relatively) far flung places, demonstrating a level of ambition not usually observed locally.

Also notable:

The tunnels. The quarrying of the stone left behind a labyrinth of tunnels, later repurposed as RAF Chilmark, a munitions depot during both World Wars and up to the 1980s.

Today, the tunnels belong mostly to bats, who have inherited the empire and rule in squeaking darkness, which is probably for the best. The batty inhabitants mean it's officially a Site of Special Scientific Interest, designated for conservation, and off limits for the casual visitor. Who may not like bats anyway, so no loss.

An alarming lack of barrows. The parish is large, stretching north on to chalk downland and south towards the Nadder valley. But there are no tumuli. No ceremonial mounds. No prehistoric ego-heaps proclaiming “I was important and here's my grassy pile of dirt to prove it.”

This is, frankly, suspicious.

All around, neighbouring parishes are speckled with barrows like a rash, each one a lovingly piled monument to dead people of uncertain provenance.

One might conclude that Chilmark simply lacked anyone worth burying with ceremony. Perhaps this is unkind.

But also plausible.

Grim’s Ditch. Our old friend from many other parishes makes another appearance, this time on the northern boundary of Chilmark. It is the parish’s main visible concession to pre-history, which isn't saying much. It's a rather puny earthwork that's hard to find and easy to ignore. I wouldn't bother trying.

The faint ghost of a Roman road. This runs across Chilmark Down up near the northern boundary (and Grim's Ditch). Once connected Old Sarum to the Mendips. These days, totally invisible in the landscape. Don't bother looking for it, unless you like disappointment. Which I know some of you do, so off you go.

A pub, the Black Dog. Apparently named after a spectral portent of doom. Or the owner's Labrador. Try not to worry, just visit, eat, drink. It's just a pub.

Fonthill House. Stands humbly near the Fonthill estate’s edge in the west of the parish of Chilmark, as if banished from Fonthill parish itself. Various versions of the house (e.g. Fonthill Abbey) have been built, burned, fell down, rebuilt, and mostly demolished over the centuries and on various sites across the estate. It's private, so don't dream of a visit, you're not invited. Although the gardens do have occasional open days, so you could have a nose around outside. Which is more than you deserve.

St Margaret of Antioch. No, not her in person. Just the church. Dates from the 12th and 13th centuries with the usual Victorian interference. Interesting carved corbels, if you like that sort of thing. Local stone of course, but some of the less ambitious sort, still haunted by the world it might have seen, had it only dared to be bo(u)lder.

NEXT WEEK: CODFORD

Prepare to be utterly underwhelmed.

We’ve wandered with Hubert on Chilmark’s chalk downs, through soggy lanes and hidden hamlets, and have Isla’s warnings ringing in our ears: dogs may vanish in the Elsewhere, and walkers sometimes follow. So keep your faithful hound away from the forgotten footpaths, it's only kind.

Next week, we’ll push on to Codford, and Rufus Penn will share another tale of a mysterious beast to be found in the Chase.

Until then stay dry. It's good for you.

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