#ancientbritain — Public Fediverse posts

Wolves, Dragons and Devil Whales: The Strange Animal World of  England 

https://onlinemarketingscoops.com/2026/07/04/wolves-dragons-and-devil-whales-the-strange-animal-world-of-england/

Wolves, Dragons and Devil Whales: The Strange Animal World of  England 

https://onlinemarketingscoops.com/2026/07/04/wolves-dragons-and-devil-whales-the-strange-animal-world-of-england/

Wolves, Dragons and Devil Whales: The Strange Animal World of  England 

https://onlinemarketingscoops.com/2026/07/04/wolves-dragons-and-devil-whales-the-strange-animal-world-of-england/

Wolves, Dragons and Devil Whales: The Strange Animal World of  England 

https://onlinemarketingscoops.com/2026/07/04/wolves-dragons-and-devil-whales-the-strange-animal-world-of-england/

Wolves, Dragons and Devil Whales: The Strange Animal World of  England 

https://onlinemarketingscoops.com/2026/07/04/wolves-dragons-and-devil-whales-the-strange-animal-world-of-england/

Farewell to the Major Oak – The Passing of England’s Greatest Folkloric Witness

There are some losses that reach beyond the practical. The death of a tree is, on the face of it, an ordinary thing. Yet I feel it’s appropriate to honour this particular one. Oh, I know – trees die, forests change, seasons turn. Yet every so often, the passing of a single living thing feels like the closing of a chapter in our shared story.

Today is one of those days.

The Major Oak of Sherwood Forest, perhaps the most famous tree in Britain and arguably the world, has been declared dead after failing to produce leaves this spring. Though the immense trunk still stands and will continue to provide a home for countless creatures, the ancient giant that has watched over Nottinghamshire for centuries has finally reached the end of its remarkable life.

For many people, this will be a sad piece of environmental news. For historians, it marks the loss of a priceless living monument. For folklorists, however, it feels like something more profound.

It feels as though we have lost a witness. The Major Oak was never simply a tree. Standing in the heart of Sherwood Forest, its vast, gnarled limbs supported by an intricate framework of poles and braces, it became inseparable from the legend of Robin Hood. Although whether the outlaw himself ever hid within its hollow trunk is impossible to know. Historians point out that the tree may not have been old enough during the period traditionally associated with Robin Hood. Yet folklore has never concerned itself too greatly with such inconveniences. Stories choose their homes.

At some point, perhaps centuries ago, people looked upon this enormous oak and decided that if Robin Hood had hidden anywhere, it must surely have been here. The tree became part of the legend, and the legend became part of the tree. That is how folklore works. A place becomes meaningful not because of what can be proved, but because of what is believed.

Generation after generation travelled to Sherwood to stand beneath its branches. Children listened wide-eyed as parents pointed to the hollow spaces where Merry Men might once have gathered. Visitors from across the world sought out the tree they knew from books, films and television. It became a pilgrimage site, not in the religious sense, but in the folkloric one.

The Major Oak was a shrine to story itself. Its age alone was enough to inspire awe. Estimates vary, but the tree was believed to be somewhere between 800 and 1,200 years old. Even at the lower end of that range, it was already ancient when Magna Carta was signed. It would have been standing when the Black Death swept through England. It watched the rise and fall of kings and queens, the coming of the printing press, the Industrial Revolution, two world wars and the birth of the internet.

When we stand before an ancient tree, we often speak of history as though it were a distant thing. The Major Oak reminded us that history is not distant at all. It is alive beneath our feet. Every ring in its timber marked another year survived. Every scar upon its bark told a story. Every twisted branch was shaped by storms long forgotten by human memory. In a very real sense, the tree carried history within itself. Maybe that is why the news feels so personal. Unlike castles, churches and monuments, trees are living things. They age. They struggle. They heal. They endure. We can relate to them in ways that stone buildings never quite allow. The Major Oak felt less like an object and more like a character. A very old character. The kind of character who has seen everything and quietly keeps their own counsel.

Yet there is another side to this story, one that folklorists and nature lovers alike may find comforting. The Major Oak is dead, but it is not gone. The vast trunk remains standing. Its limbs still reach across the forest. In death, as in life, it continues to serve the ecosystem around it. Deadwood is among the richest habitats in Britain. Beetles, fungi, mosses, birds and countless other species depend upon ancient decaying timber. The old king of Sherwood will continue to give life long after its own has ended.

There is folklore in that too. Across Britain, stories tell us that death is never truly an ending. The Green Man fades with the autumn leaves and returns in spring. The Corn King falls so the fields may grow again. The oak itself has long been a symbol of endurance, renewal and continuity. Perhaps it is fitting that even in death the Major Oak continues its work.

Its descendants already grow elsewhere. Acorns gathered from the tree have been planted across Britain and beyond. New saplings carry fragments of its genetic legacy into the future. They are not replacements. Nothing could replace a tree that stood for a millennium. But they are heirs.

One day, centuries from now, another oak may stand in Sherwood Forest. Children may gather beneath its branches. Stories of Robin Hood may still be told. Visitors may still come seeking a connection with England’s mythic past.And perhaps somebody will tell them about the ancient giant that came before. The tree that witnessed a thousand years. The tree that became a legend. The tree that outlived empires.

Today, we mourn the passing of the Major Oak. Not simply because it was old. Not simply because it was famous. But because it reminded us that stories can take root in the landscape, that places can become sacred through imagination, and that sometimes a single tree can carry the weight of a nation’s folklore.

The Major Oak is dead.

Long live the legend.

Farewell to the Major Oak – The Passing of England’s Greatest Folkloric Witness

There are some losses that reach beyond the practical. The death of a tree is, on the face of it, an ordinary thing. Yet I feel it’s appropriate to honour this particular one. Oh, I know – trees die, forests change, seasons turn. Yet every so often, the passing of a single living thing feels like the closing of a chapter in our shared story.

Today is one of those days.

The Major Oak of Sherwood Forest, perhaps the most famous tree in Britain and arguably the world, has been declared dead after failing to produce leaves this spring. Though the immense trunk still stands and will continue to provide a home for countless creatures, the ancient giant that has watched over Nottinghamshire for centuries has finally reached the end of its remarkable life.

For many people, this will be a sad piece of environmental news. For historians, it marks the loss of a priceless living monument. For folklorists, however, it feels like something more profound.

It feels as though we have lost a witness. The Major Oak was never simply a tree. Standing in the heart of Sherwood Forest, its vast, gnarled limbs supported by an intricate framework of poles and braces, it became inseparable from the legend of Robin Hood. Although whether the outlaw himself ever hid within its hollow trunk is impossible to know. Historians point out that the tree may not have been old enough during the period traditionally associated with Robin Hood. Yet folklore has never concerned itself too greatly with such inconveniences. Stories choose their homes.

At some point, perhaps centuries ago, people looked upon this enormous oak and decided that if Robin Hood had hidden anywhere, it must surely have been here. The tree became part of the legend, and the legend became part of the tree. That is how folklore works. A place becomes meaningful not because of what can be proved, but because of what is believed.

Generation after generation travelled to Sherwood to stand beneath its branches. Children listened wide-eyed as parents pointed to the hollow spaces where Merry Men might once have gathered. Visitors from across the world sought out the tree they knew from books, films and television. It became a pilgrimage site, not in the religious sense, but in the folkloric one.

The Major Oak was a shrine to story itself. Its age alone was enough to inspire awe. Estimates vary, but the tree was believed to be somewhere between 800 and 1,200 years old. Even at the lower end of that range, it was already ancient when Magna Carta was signed. It would have been standing when the Black Death swept through England. It watched the rise and fall of kings and queens, the coming of the printing press, the Industrial Revolution, two world wars and the birth of the internet.

When we stand before an ancient tree, we often speak of history as though it were a distant thing. The Major Oak reminded us that history is not distant at all. It is alive beneath our feet. Every ring in its timber marked another year survived. Every scar upon its bark told a story. Every twisted branch was shaped by storms long forgotten by human memory. In a very real sense, the tree carried history within itself. Maybe that is why the news feels so personal. Unlike castles, churches and monuments, trees are living things. They age. They struggle. They heal. They endure. We can relate to them in ways that stone buildings never quite allow. The Major Oak felt less like an object and more like a character. A very old character. The kind of character who has seen everything and quietly keeps their own counsel.

Yet there is another side to this story, one that folklorists and nature lovers alike may find comforting. The Major Oak is dead, but it is not gone. The vast trunk remains standing. Its limbs still reach across the forest. In death, as in life, it continues to serve the ecosystem around it. Deadwood is among the richest habitats in Britain. Beetles, fungi, mosses, birds and countless other species depend upon ancient decaying timber. The old king of Sherwood will continue to give life long after its own has ended.

There is folklore in that too. Across Britain, stories tell us that death is never truly an ending. The Green Man fades with the autumn leaves and returns in spring. The Corn King falls so the fields may grow again. The oak itself has long been a symbol of endurance, renewal and continuity. Perhaps it is fitting that even in death the Major Oak continues its work.

Its descendants already grow elsewhere. Acorns gathered from the tree have been planted across Britain and beyond. New saplings carry fragments of its genetic legacy into the future. They are not replacements. Nothing could replace a tree that stood for a millennium. But they are heirs.

One day, centuries from now, another oak may stand in Sherwood Forest. Children may gather beneath its branches. Stories of Robin Hood may still be told. Visitors may still come seeking a connection with England’s mythic past.And perhaps somebody will tell them about the ancient giant that came before. The tree that witnessed a thousand years. The tree that became a legend. The tree that outlived empires.

Today, we mourn the passing of the Major Oak. Not simply because it was old. Not simply because it was famous. But because it reminded us that stories can take root in the landscape, that places can become sacred through imagination, and that sometimes a single tree can carry the weight of a nation’s folklore.

The Major Oak is dead.

Long live the legend.

Farewell to the Major Oak – The Passing of England’s Greatest Folkloric Witness

There are some losses that reach beyond the practical. The death of a tree is, on the face of it, an ordinary thing. Yet I feel it’s appropriate to honour this particular one. Oh, I know – trees die, forests change, seasons turn. Yet every so often, the passing of a single living thing feels like the closing of a chapter in our shared story.

Today is one of those days.

The Major Oak of Sherwood Forest, perhaps the most famous tree in Britain and arguably the world, has been declared dead after failing to produce leaves this spring. Though the immense trunk still stands and will continue to provide a home for countless creatures, the ancient giant that has watched over Nottinghamshire for centuries has finally reached the end of its remarkable life.

For many people, this will be a sad piece of environmental news. For historians, it marks the loss of a priceless living monument. For folklorists, however, it feels like something more profound.

It feels as though we have lost a witness. The Major Oak was never simply a tree. Standing in the heart of Sherwood Forest, its vast, gnarled limbs supported by an intricate framework of poles and braces, it became inseparable from the legend of Robin Hood. Although whether the outlaw himself ever hid within its hollow trunk is impossible to know. Historians point out that the tree may not have been old enough during the period traditionally associated with Robin Hood. Yet folklore has never concerned itself too greatly with such inconveniences. Stories choose their homes.

At some point, perhaps centuries ago, people looked upon this enormous oak and decided that if Robin Hood had hidden anywhere, it must surely have been here. The tree became part of the legend, and the legend became part of the tree. That is how folklore works. A place becomes meaningful not because of what can be proved, but because of what is believed.

Generation after generation travelled to Sherwood to stand beneath its branches. Children listened wide-eyed as parents pointed to the hollow spaces where Merry Men might once have gathered. Visitors from across the world sought out the tree they knew from books, films and television. It became a pilgrimage site, not in the religious sense, but in the folkloric one.

The Major Oak was a shrine to story itself. Its age alone was enough to inspire awe. Estimates vary, but the tree was believed to be somewhere between 800 and 1,200 years old. Even at the lower end of that range, it was already ancient when Magna Carta was signed. It would have been standing when the Black Death swept through England. It watched the rise and fall of kings and queens, the coming of the printing press, the Industrial Revolution, two world wars and the birth of the internet.

When we stand before an ancient tree, we often speak of history as though it were a distant thing. The Major Oak reminded us that history is not distant at all. It is alive beneath our feet. Every ring in its timber marked another year survived. Every scar upon its bark told a story. Every twisted branch was shaped by storms long forgotten by human memory. In a very real sense, the tree carried history within itself. Maybe that is why the news feels so personal. Unlike castles, churches and monuments, trees are living things. They age. They struggle. They heal. They endure. We can relate to them in ways that stone buildings never quite allow. The Major Oak felt less like an object and more like a character. A very old character. The kind of character who has seen everything and quietly keeps their own counsel.

Yet there is another side to this story, one that folklorists and nature lovers alike may find comforting. The Major Oak is dead, but it is not gone. The vast trunk remains standing. Its limbs still reach across the forest. In death, as in life, it continues to serve the ecosystem around it. Deadwood is among the richest habitats in Britain. Beetles, fungi, mosses, birds and countless other species depend upon ancient decaying timber. The old king of Sherwood will continue to give life long after its own has ended.

There is folklore in that too. Across Britain, stories tell us that death is never truly an ending. The Green Man fades with the autumn leaves and returns in spring. The Corn King falls so the fields may grow again. The oak itself has long been a symbol of endurance, renewal and continuity. Perhaps it is fitting that even in death the Major Oak continues its work.

Its descendants already grow elsewhere. Acorns gathered from the tree have been planted across Britain and beyond. New saplings carry fragments of its genetic legacy into the future. They are not replacements. Nothing could replace a tree that stood for a millennium. But they are heirs.

One day, centuries from now, another oak may stand in Sherwood Forest. Children may gather beneath its branches. Stories of Robin Hood may still be told. Visitors may still come seeking a connection with England’s mythic past.And perhaps somebody will tell them about the ancient giant that came before. The tree that witnessed a thousand years. The tree that became a legend. The tree that outlived empires.

Today, we mourn the passing of the Major Oak. Not simply because it was old. Not simply because it was famous. But because it reminded us that stories can take root in the landscape, that places can become sacred through imagination, and that sometimes a single tree can carry the weight of a nation’s folklore.

The Major Oak is dead.

Long live the legend.

Farewell to the Major Oak – The Passing of England’s Greatest Folkloric Witness

There are some losses that reach beyond the practical. The death of a tree is, on the face of it, an ordinary thing. Yet I feel it’s appropriate to honour this particular one. Oh, I know – trees die, forests change, seasons turn. Yet every so often, the passing of a single living thing feels like the closing of a chapter in our shared story.

Today is one of those days.

The Major Oak of Sherwood Forest, perhaps the most famous tree in Britain and arguably the world, has been declared dead after failing to produce leaves this spring. Though the immense trunk still stands and will continue to provide a home for countless creatures, the ancient giant that has watched over Nottinghamshire for centuries has finally reached the end of its remarkable life.

For many people, this will be a sad piece of environmental news. For historians, it marks the loss of a priceless living monument. For folklorists, however, it feels like something more profound.

It feels as though we have lost a witness. The Major Oak was never simply a tree. Standing in the heart of Sherwood Forest, its vast, gnarled limbs supported by an intricate framework of poles and braces, it became inseparable from the legend of Robin Hood. Although whether the outlaw himself ever hid within its hollow trunk is impossible to know. Historians point out that the tree may not have been old enough during the period traditionally associated with Robin Hood. Yet folklore has never concerned itself too greatly with such inconveniences. Stories choose their homes.

At some point, perhaps centuries ago, people looked upon this enormous oak and decided that if Robin Hood had hidden anywhere, it must surely have been here. The tree became part of the legend, and the legend became part of the tree. That is how folklore works. A place becomes meaningful not because of what can be proved, but because of what is believed.

Generation after generation travelled to Sherwood to stand beneath its branches. Children listened wide-eyed as parents pointed to the hollow spaces where Merry Men might once have gathered. Visitors from across the world sought out the tree they knew from books, films and television. It became a pilgrimage site, not in the religious sense, but in the folkloric one.

The Major Oak was a shrine to story itself. Its age alone was enough to inspire awe. Estimates vary, but the tree was believed to be somewhere between 800 and 1,200 years old. Even at the lower end of that range, it was already ancient when Magna Carta was signed. It would have been standing when the Black Death swept through England. It watched the rise and fall of kings and queens, the coming of the printing press, the Industrial Revolution, two world wars and the birth of the internet.

When we stand before an ancient tree, we often speak of history as though it were a distant thing. The Major Oak reminded us that history is not distant at all. It is alive beneath our feet. Every ring in its timber marked another year survived. Every scar upon its bark told a story. Every twisted branch was shaped by storms long forgotten by human memory. In a very real sense, the tree carried history within itself. Maybe that is why the news feels so personal. Unlike castles, churches and monuments, trees are living things. They age. They struggle. They heal. They endure. We can relate to them in ways that stone buildings never quite allow. The Major Oak felt less like an object and more like a character. A very old character. The kind of character who has seen everything and quietly keeps their own counsel.

Yet there is another side to this story, one that folklorists and nature lovers alike may find comforting. The Major Oak is dead, but it is not gone. The vast trunk remains standing. Its limbs still reach across the forest. In death, as in life, it continues to serve the ecosystem around it. Deadwood is among the richest habitats in Britain. Beetles, fungi, mosses, birds and countless other species depend upon ancient decaying timber. The old king of Sherwood will continue to give life long after its own has ended.

There is folklore in that too. Across Britain, stories tell us that death is never truly an ending. The Green Man fades with the autumn leaves and returns in spring. The Corn King falls so the fields may grow again. The oak itself has long been a symbol of endurance, renewal and continuity. Perhaps it is fitting that even in death the Major Oak continues its work.

Its descendants already grow elsewhere. Acorns gathered from the tree have been planted across Britain and beyond. New saplings carry fragments of its genetic legacy into the future. They are not replacements. Nothing could replace a tree that stood for a millennium. But they are heirs.

One day, centuries from now, another oak may stand in Sherwood Forest. Children may gather beneath its branches. Stories of Robin Hood may still be told. Visitors may still come seeking a connection with England’s mythic past.And perhaps somebody will tell them about the ancient giant that came before. The tree that witnessed a thousand years. The tree that became a legend. The tree that outlived empires.

Today, we mourn the passing of the Major Oak. Not simply because it was old. Not simply because it was famous. But because it reminded us that stories can take root in the landscape, that places can become sacred through imagination, and that sometimes a single tree can carry the weight of a nation’s folklore.

The Major Oak is dead.

Long live the legend.

Farewell to the Major Oak – The Passing of England’s Greatest Folkloric Witness

There are some losses that reach beyond the practical. The death of a tree is, on the face of it, an ordinary thing. Yet I feel it’s appropriate to honour this particular one. Oh, I know – trees die, forests change, seasons turn. Yet every so often, the passing of a single living thing feels like the closing of a chapter in our shared story.

Today is one of those days.

The Major Oak of Sherwood Forest, perhaps the most famous tree in Britain and arguably the world, has been declared dead after failing to produce leaves this spring. Though the immense trunk still stands and will continue to provide a home for countless creatures, the ancient giant that has watched over Nottinghamshire for centuries has finally reached the end of its remarkable life.

For many people, this will be a sad piece of environmental news. For historians, it marks the loss of a priceless living monument. For folklorists, however, it feels like something more profound.

It feels as though we have lost a witness. The Major Oak was never simply a tree. Standing in the heart of Sherwood Forest, its vast, gnarled limbs supported by an intricate framework of poles and braces, it became inseparable from the legend of Robin Hood. Although whether the outlaw himself ever hid within its hollow trunk is impossible to know. Historians point out that the tree may not have been old enough during the period traditionally associated with Robin Hood. Yet folklore has never concerned itself too greatly with such inconveniences. Stories choose their homes.

At some point, perhaps centuries ago, people looked upon this enormous oak and decided that if Robin Hood had hidden anywhere, it must surely have been here. The tree became part of the legend, and the legend became part of the tree. That is how folklore works. A place becomes meaningful not because of what can be proved, but because of what is believed.

Generation after generation travelled to Sherwood to stand beneath its branches. Children listened wide-eyed as parents pointed to the hollow spaces where Merry Men might once have gathered. Visitors from across the world sought out the tree they knew from books, films and television. It became a pilgrimage site, not in the religious sense, but in the folkloric one.

The Major Oak was a shrine to story itself. Its age alone was enough to inspire awe. Estimates vary, but the tree was believed to be somewhere between 800 and 1,200 years old. Even at the lower end of that range, it was already ancient when Magna Carta was signed. It would have been standing when the Black Death swept through England. It watched the rise and fall of kings and queens, the coming of the printing press, the Industrial Revolution, two world wars and the birth of the internet.

When we stand before an ancient tree, we often speak of history as though it were a distant thing. The Major Oak reminded us that history is not distant at all. It is alive beneath our feet. Every ring in its timber marked another year survived. Every scar upon its bark told a story. Every twisted branch was shaped by storms long forgotten by human memory. In a very real sense, the tree carried history within itself. Maybe that is why the news feels so personal. Unlike castles, churches and monuments, trees are living things. They age. They struggle. They heal. They endure. We can relate to them in ways that stone buildings never quite allow. The Major Oak felt less like an object and more like a character. A very old character. The kind of character who has seen everything and quietly keeps their own counsel.

Yet there is another side to this story, one that folklorists and nature lovers alike may find comforting. The Major Oak is dead, but it is not gone. The vast trunk remains standing. Its limbs still reach across the forest. In death, as in life, it continues to serve the ecosystem around it. Deadwood is among the richest habitats in Britain. Beetles, fungi, mosses, birds and countless other species depend upon ancient decaying timber. The old king of Sherwood will continue to give life long after its own has ended.

There is folklore in that too. Across Britain, stories tell us that death is never truly an ending. The Green Man fades with the autumn leaves and returns in spring. The Corn King falls so the fields may grow again. The oak itself has long been a symbol of endurance, renewal and continuity. Perhaps it is fitting that even in death the Major Oak continues its work.

Its descendants already grow elsewhere. Acorns gathered from the tree have been planted across Britain and beyond. New saplings carry fragments of its genetic legacy into the future. They are not replacements. Nothing could replace a tree that stood for a millennium. But they are heirs.

One day, centuries from now, another oak may stand in Sherwood Forest. Children may gather beneath its branches. Stories of Robin Hood may still be told. Visitors may still come seeking a connection with England’s mythic past.And perhaps somebody will tell them about the ancient giant that came before. The tree that witnessed a thousand years. The tree that became a legend. The tree that outlived empires.

Today, we mourn the passing of the Major Oak. Not simply because it was old. Not simply because it was famous. But because it reminded us that stories can take root in the landscape, that places can become sacred through imagination, and that sometimes a single tree can carry the weight of a nation’s folklore.

The Major Oak is dead.

Long live the legend.

Metal Detectorist Finds Rare Roman Gold Ring Buried During Britain’s Imperial Breakaway

The ring, in pristine condition. Credit: South West Heritage Trust Kevin Minto expected another corroded bronze coin when…
#EuropeSays #Britain #Europe #EU #AncientBritain #goldring #metaldetecting #RomanBritain #RomanEmpire #Somerset #Victoriagoddess
https://www.europesays.com/britain/58095/

https://www.europesays.com/britain/58095/ Metal Detectorist Finds Rare Roman Gold Ring Buried During Britain’s Imperial Breakaway #AncientBritain #Britain #GoldRing #MetalDetecting #RomanBritain #RomanEmpire #Somerset #VictoriaGoddess

https://www.europesays.com/uk/1012124/ Metal Detectorist Finds Rare Roman Gold Ring Buried During Britain’s Imperial Breakaway #AncientBritain #Britain #England #GoldRing #GreatBritain #MetalDetecting #NorthernIreland #RomanBritain #RomanEmpire #Scotland #Somerset #UK #UnitedKingdom #VictoriaGoddess #Wales

World’s largest scorpion lived in Britain 415 million years ago

A giant predator was stalking what is now Britain roughly 415 million years ago, long before forests spread…
#EuropeSays #Britain #Europe #EU #AncientBritain #Anglo-WelshBasin #Devonianpredators #EarlyDevonian #fossilarthropods #giantscorpion #NaturalHistoryMuseum #NewDiscoveries #paleontology #Praearcturusgigas #prehistoriclife #research #Science #scorpionevolution
https://www.europesays.com/britain/55502/

https://www.europesays.com/britain/55502/ World’s largest scorpion lived in Britain 415 million years ago #AncientBritain #AngloWelshBasin #Britain #DevonianPredators #EarlyDevonian #FossilArthropods #GiantScorpion #NaturalHistoryMuseum #NewDiscoveries #paleontology #PraearcturusGigas #PrehistoricLife #research #Science #ScorpionEvolution

https://www.europesays.com/uk/1003171/ World’s largest scorpion lived in Britain 415 million years ago #AncientBritain #AngloWelshBasin #Britain #DevonianPredators #EarlyDevonian #England #FossilArthropods #GiantScorpion #GreatBritain #NaturalHistoryMuseum #NewDiscoveries #NorthernIreland #paleontology #PraearcturusGigas #PrehistoricLife #Research #Science #ScorpionEvolution #Scotland #UK #UnitedKingdom #Wales

https://www.europesays.com/britain/42638/ Metal Detectorist Finds Huge Hoard That May Reveal the Lost Power of Britain’s Iron Age Queens #AncientBritain #archaeology #Brigantes #Britain #CelticArchaeology #CelticTribes #chariots #DurhamUniversity #HistoricEngland #IronAgeBritain #IronAgeHoard #MelsonbyHoard #MetalDetecting #NorthYorkshire #QueenCartimandua #Stanwick #YorkshireMuseum

🏛️🪨 Archaeologists in Greater Manchester discovered a massive 4,500-year-old Neolithic henge, the first in the region. It features a rare ring ditch, cremation burials, and mysterious octagonal features. Prehistoric magic in a farmer’s field!
Read more: https://thedebrief.org/bronze-age-people-didnt-do-that-english-team-unearths-unprecedented-evidence-of-4500-year-old-ancient-monument/

@goodnews

#GoodNews #NeolithicHenge #AncientBritain #ArchaeologyWin #HiddenHistory

🏛️🪨 Archaeologists in Greater Manchester discovered a massive 4,500-year-old Neolithic henge, the first in the region. It features a rare ring ditch, cremation burials, and mysterious octagonal features. Prehistoric magic in a farmer’s field!
Read more: https://thedebrief.org/bronze-age-people-didnt-do-that-english-team-unearths-unprecedented-evidence-of-4500-year-old-ancient-monument/

@goodnews

#GoodNews #NeolithicHenge #AncientBritain #ArchaeologyWin #HiddenHistory

🏛️🪨 Archaeologists in Greater Manchester discovered a massive 4,500-year-old Neolithic henge, the first in the region. It features a rare ring ditch, cremation burials, and mysterious octagonal features. Prehistoric magic in a farmer’s field!
Read more: https://thedebrief.org/bronze-age-people-didnt-do-that-english-team-unearths-unprecedented-evidence-of-4500-year-old-ancient-monument/

@goodnews

#GoodNews #NeolithicHenge #AncientBritain #ArchaeologyWin #HiddenHistory

🏛️🪨 Archaeologists in Greater Manchester discovered a massive 4,500-year-old Neolithic henge, the first in the region. It features a rare ring ditch, cremation burials, and mysterious octagonal features. Prehistoric magic in a farmer’s field!
Read more: https://thedebrief.org/bronze-age-people-didnt-do-that-english-team-unearths-unprecedented-evidence-of-4500-year-old-ancient-monument/

@goodnews

#GoodNews #NeolithicHenge #AncientBritain #ArchaeologyWin #HiddenHistory

🏛️🪨 Archaeologists in Greater Manchester discovered a massive 4,500-year-old Neolithic henge, the first in the region. It features a rare ring ditch, cremation burials, and mysterious octagonal features. Prehistoric magic in a farmer’s field!
Read more: https://thedebrief.org/bronze-age-people-didnt-do-that-english-team-unearths-unprecedented-evidence-of-4500-year-old-ancient-monument/

@goodnews

#GoodNews #NeolithicHenge #AncientBritain #ArchaeologyWin #HiddenHistory

One ancient cow tooth revealed Stonehenge's biggest secret: cattle likely helped haul its stones from Wales. Science now links livestock to prehistoric engineering. History just changed forever.
#Stonehenge #Archaeology #HistoryRevealed #AncientBritain #HiddenHistory #ScienceDiscovery #StonehengeSecrets #NeolithicLife #ArchaeologicalFinds#ArchaeologyFinds #AncientHistory #Storytelling #DidYouKnow #HistoryFacts #DocumentaryShort #WeirdHistory

One ancient cow tooth revealed Stonehenge's biggest secret: cattle likely helped haul its stones from Wales. Science now links livestock to prehistoric engineering. History just changed forever.
#Stonehenge #Archaeology #HistoryRevealed #AncientBritain #HiddenHistory #ScienceDiscovery #StonehengeSecrets #NeolithicLife #ArchaeologicalFinds#ArchaeologyFinds #AncientHistory #Storytelling #DidYouKnow #HistoryFacts #DocumentaryShort #WeirdHistory

One ancient cow tooth revealed Stonehenge's biggest secret: cattle likely helped haul its stones from Wales. Science now links livestock to prehistoric engineering. History just changed forever.
#Stonehenge #Archaeology #HistoryRevealed #AncientBritain #HiddenHistory #ScienceDiscovery #StonehengeSecrets #NeolithicLife #ArchaeologicalFinds#ArchaeologyFinds #AncientHistory #Storytelling #DidYouKnow #HistoryFacts #DocumentaryShort #WeirdHistory

One ancient cow tooth revealed Stonehenge's biggest secret: cattle likely helped haul its stones from Wales. Science now links livestock to prehistoric engineering. History just changed forever.
#Stonehenge #Archaeology #HistoryRevealed #AncientBritain #HiddenHistory #ScienceDiscovery #StonehengeSecrets #NeolithicLife #ArchaeologicalFinds#ArchaeologyFinds #AncientHistory #Storytelling #DidYouKnow #HistoryFacts #DocumentaryShort #WeirdHistory

𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗵𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲 𝗠𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗦𝗼𝗹𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗥𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁
New research proves that ancient British peoples transported Stonehenge's massive stones from Wales and Scotland over 450 miles, demonstrating remarkable Neolithic engineering capabilities 5,000 years ago.
#stonehenge #megalithic #neolithic #ancienthistory #prehistoric #ancientengineering #ancientbritain
https://www.ancient-origins.net/news-history-archaeology/stonehenge-stone-transport-0022288

𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗵𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲 𝗠𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗦𝗼𝗹𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗥𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁
New research proves that ancient British peoples transported Stonehenge's massive stones from Wales and Scotland over 450 miles, demonstrating remarkable Neolithic engineering capabilities 5,000 years ago.
#stonehenge #megalithic #neolithic #ancienthistory #prehistoric #ancientengineering #ancientbritain
https://www.ancient-origins.net/news-history-archaeology/stonehenge-stone-transport-0022288

In Ancient Times... for this weeks blog post we take a look at standing stones and ancient sites in cover art, featuring a #topnine of some of the best examples.

https://www.logofiasco.com/in-ancient-times/ 🦉🎶

#coverart #ghostbox #trunkrecords #hauntology #electronicmusic #ambient #ritual #keepwalkingweird #acidfolk #hauntology #folk #XTC #juliancope #folklore #rockmusic #psychedelia #standingstones #megalithic #albion #stonecircle #haunted #landscape #antiquarian #archaeology #ancientbritain

In Ancient Times... for this weeks blog post we take a look at standing stones and ancient sites in cover art, featuring a #topnine of some of the best examples.

https://www.logofiasco.com/in-ancient-times/ 🦉🎶

#coverart #ghostbox #trunkrecords #hauntology #electronicmusic #ambient #ritual #keepwalkingweird #acidfolk #hauntology #folk #XTC #juliancope #folklore #rockmusic #psychedelia #standingstones #megalithic #albion #stonecircle #haunted #landscape #antiquarian #archaeology #ancientbritain

In Ancient Times... for this weeks blog post we take a look at standing stones and ancient sites in cover art, featuring a #topnine of some of the best examples.

https://www.logofiasco.com/in-ancient-times/ 🦉🎶

#coverart #ghostbox #trunkrecords #hauntology #electronicmusic #ambient #ritual #keepwalkingweird #acidfolk #hauntology #folk #XTC #juliancope #folklore #rockmusic #psychedelia #standingstones #megalithic #albion #stonecircle #haunted #landscape #antiquarian #archaeology #ancientbritain

In Ancient Times... for this weeks blog post we take a look at standing stones and ancient sites in cover art, featuring a #topnine of some of the best examples.

https://www.logofiasco.com/in-ancient-times/ 🦉🎶

#coverart #ghostbox #trunkrecords #hauntology #electronicmusic #ambient #ritual #keepwalkingweird #acidfolk #hauntology #folk #XTC #juliancope #folklore #rockmusic #psychedelia #standingstones #megalithic #albion #stonecircle #haunted #landscape #antiquarian #archaeology #ancientbritain

Walking weirdly into the New Year with two new additions - The Focus Group 'Hey Let Loose Your Love' 10-inch reissue plus Weird Walk Issue 7, now in stock... https://www.logofiasco.com/ 🦉🎶

#weirdwalk #ghostbox #hauntology #electronicmusic #ambient #ritual #wickerman #keepwalkingweird #acidfolk #hauntology #folk #folklore #folkhorror #ramble #ritual #oldways #standingstones #albion #stonecircle #dolmen #haunted #liminal #landscape #antiquarian #pagan #myth #neolithic #archaeology #ancientbritain

Walking weirdly into the New Year with two new additions - The Focus Group 'Hey Let Loose Your Love' 10-inch reissue plus Weird Walk Issue 7, now in stock... https://www.logofiasco.com/ 🦉🎶

#weirdwalk #ghostbox #hauntology #electronicmusic #ambient #ritual #wickerman #keepwalkingweird #acidfolk #hauntology #folk #folklore #folkhorror #ramble #ritual #oldways #standingstones #albion #stonecircle #dolmen #haunted #liminal #landscape #antiquarian #pagan #myth #neolithic #archaeology #ancientbritain

Reconnecting with Deep Time and stillness, at the remaining earthworks of an Iron Age hill fort at Pulpit Hill, in the Chiltern hills of Buckinghamshire. When the white noise & demands on attention become too much, feeling the passing of time over earth that was once so urgent and strategic, now overgrown with beech trees and carpets of leaves and moss, can help me come back to life again.

#ironage #ancienthistory #prehistory #earthworks #hillfort #ancientbritain #chilterns #ironagebritain

Reconnecting with Deep Time and stillness, at the remaining earthworks of an Iron Age hill fort at Pulpit Hill, in the Chiltern hills of Buckinghamshire. When the white noise & demands on attention become too much, feeling the passing of time over earth that was once so urgent and strategic, now overgrown with beech trees and carpets of leaves and moss, can help me come back to life again.

#ironage #ancienthistory #prehistory #earthworks #hillfort #ancientbritain #chilterns #ironagebritain

Reconnecting with Deep Time and stillness, at the remaining earthworks of an Iron Age hill fort at Pulpit Hill, in the Chiltern hills of Buckinghamshire. When the white noise & demands on attention become too much, feeling the passing of time over earth that was once so urgent and strategic, now overgrown with beech trees and carpets of leaves and moss, can help me come back to life again.

#ironage #ancienthistory #prehistory #earthworks #hillfort #ancientbritain #chilterns #ironagebritain

Reconnecting with Deep Time and stillness, at the remaining earthworks of an Iron Age hill fort at Pulpit Hill, in the Chiltern hills of Buckinghamshire. When the white noise & demands on attention become too much, feeling the passing of time over earth that was once so urgent and strategic, now overgrown with beech trees and carpets of leaves and moss, can help me come back to life again.

#ironage #ancienthistory #prehistory #earthworks #hillfort #ancientbritain #chilterns #ironagebritain

Reconnecting with Deep Time and stillness, at the remaining earthworks of an Iron Age hill fort at Pulpit Hill, in the Chiltern hills of Buckinghamshire. When the white noise & demands on attention become too much, feeling the passing of time over earth that was once so urgent and strategic, now overgrown with beech trees and carpets of leaves and moss, can help me come back to life again.

#ironage #ancienthistory #prehistory #earthworks #hillfort #ancientbritain #chilterns #ironagebritain

The joys of pre-ordering - I ordered this months ago, forgot all about it, and today, through the passage of time, it arrives, almost as if it had waited until I was old enough, and wise enough, to read it. And worth the wait it most certainly was. Take a bow @weird_walk 👏🧙‍♂️

#weirdwalk #keepwalkingweird #acidfolk #hauntology #folk #folklore #folkhorror #ramble #standingstones #megalithic #albion #stonecircle #haunted #landscape #wickerman #antiquarian#myth #neolithic #archaeology #ancientbritain

The joys of pre-ordering - I ordered this months ago, forgot all about it, and today, through the passage of time, it arrives, almost as if it had waited until I was old enough, and wise enough, to read it. And worth the wait it most certainly was. Take a bow @weird_walk 👏🧙‍♂️

#weirdwalk #keepwalkingweird #acidfolk #hauntology #folk #folklore #folkhorror #ramble #standingstones #megalithic #albion #stonecircle #haunted #landscape #wickerman #antiquarian#myth #neolithic #archaeology #ancientbritain

The joys of pre-ordering - I ordered this months ago, forgot all about it, and today, through the passage of time, it arrives, almost as if it had waited until I was old enough, and wise enough, to read it. And worth the wait it most certainly was. Take a bow @weird_walk 👏🧙‍♂️

#weirdwalk #keepwalkingweird #acidfolk #hauntology #folk #folklore #folkhorror #ramble #standingstones #megalithic #albion #stonecircle #haunted #landscape #wickerman #antiquarian#myth #neolithic #archaeology #ancientbritain

The joys of pre-ordering - I ordered this months ago, forgot all about it, and today, through the passage of time, it arrives, almost as if it had waited until I was old enough, and wise enough, to read it. And worth the wait it most certainly was. Take a bow @weird_walk 👏🧙‍♂️

#weirdwalk #keepwalkingweird #acidfolk #hauntology #folk #folklore #folkhorror #ramble #standingstones #megalithic #albion #stonecircle #haunted #landscape #wickerman #antiquarian#myth #neolithic #archaeology #ancientbritain

#StandingStoneSunday a few pictures of the circle at Cullerlie, which has eight standing stones and eight cairns within the ring. I took these on a visit in 2018. #Scotland #prehistory #archaeology #AncientBritain

#StandingStoneSunday a few pictures of the circle at Cullerlie, which has eight standing stones and eight cairns within the ring. I took these on a visit in 2018. #Scotland #prehistory #archaeology #AncientBritain

#StandingStoneSunday a few pictures of the circle at Cullerlie, which has eight standing stones and eight cairns within the ring. I took these on a visit in 2018. #Scotland #prehistory #archaeology #AncientBritain

#StandingStoneSunday a few pictures of the circle at Cullerlie, which has eight standing stones and eight cairns within the ring. I took these on a visit in 2018. #Scotland #prehistory #archaeology #AncientBritain

Ritual centre (Stanton Drew)

#stantondrew #standingstones #neolithic #somerset #ancientbritain #archaeology

Another mysterious lump along the old Bath Road is Marlborough Mound.

It is about 4,400 years old and it has a much more famous sibling mound just down the road. But we’ll talk about that another time. 🗻

#prehistory #marlborough #ancient #pagan #ancientbritain #britishprehistory #neolithic #bronzeage #archaeology #wiltshire

👀 A few years ago, archaeologists discovered the mound to be 1500 years old.

This makes it roughly contemporary with other Anglo-Saxon mounds like Sutton Hoo and nearby Taplow.

There is so much we don’t know. And to me it is all the more enigmatic for being surrounded by urban sprawl.

It is overlooked, like a lot of things in Slough, and I enjoy being one of the few who notices it. 👀

#montem #slough #burialmound #barrow #pagan #ancientbritain #anglosaxon #buckinghamshire @slough