One of my favorite cryptozoological mysteries is that of the Lindwurm (or Lindworm, or really simply a Wurm/Worm/Wyrm, since this little entry is going to be talking at a general level [I just happen to enjoy the way Lindwyrm sounds {and yeah, I'm aware I'm spelling it differently each time I type it, let me go on my little homophonic spree}]), a European legend. Granted, there are many different variations of it, but the basic description of a Wyrm is a large, long, snake-like reptilian creature with either no arms or a small pair of front arms only. They are miscellaneously described as having a poisonous bite, breath, claws, and/or having wings, depending on the tale and who's telling it. However, the basic premise of a giant snake terrorizing various parts of Europe (sometimes simultaneously) gives me that "to much a coincidence to not have at least a kernel of truth" tickle that makes me think that it might be plausible a creature like this existed.
Why? Well, call it a hunch, but also keep in mind I'm talking kernels, not the whole shebang. I certainly find the idea of a poison-breathing land-dwelling leviathan completely implausible. However, I just think that the idea that they could've been the last vestiges of a dying species that may have experienced convergent evolution with (or possible was from the same ancestor stock as) anacondas or boa constrictors isn't necessarily too hard to swallow. Poisonous? Probably not, but Europeans in general would be familiar with their smaller, more venomous cousins and could easily have added that feature in each tales' retelling.
Maybe I'm being too naive in assuming that something like that could be possible, but it just strikes me as odd: that while you hear stories of different -wurms- and we are supposed to assume they're all fantastic creatures that are completely fabricated from the basis of a common snake, you never hear tales of anyone fighting a giant spider, or rat, or other animals. Why choose snakes? Sure, they can be poisonous, but there are other things as well; did snakes truly fascinate and terrify our ancestors that badly? Something in my gut tells me that there may be a bit more to it than that...
As a little "case study" for you, let me boil down the legend of the Lambton Worm, pictured above...keep in mind, however, that there are almost as many tales of different Worms are there were municipalities in Europe, so this is by no means the only tale of a Wurm out there. Basically, the tale goes like this: a fisherman (the eponymous Lambton), not having the appropriate level of piety as was socially decreed at the time, decides to skip church in favor of getting a jump on the prime fishing that was available to the sinners like him that cut church. Well, sure enough he catches something, but instead of a fish, he catches what looks like a small white eel. Thinking it useless, he gives up, chucks it into the well and promptly gets recruited for the Crusades. Well, while homeboy is gone, rather than expiring, the eel becomes bigger and bigger, eventually growing big enough to not only escape the well, but end up coiling itself around the hill the well was on a total of seven times. As you can imagine, the now fully-grown worm was pretty much it's own boss and didn't take sh-t from anyone, instead terrorizing the countryside, eating livestock and small children, and basically making the already sucky life of a peasant even worse. Well, after seven years, John the Fisherman (yes, his name really was John Lambton, though I did like having the opportunity to slip a Primus reference in there) comes back from the Crusades to find his village wrecked and everyone super-depressed. So, consulting a local witch/wise-woman, the ever-pragmatic Lambton was told to affix speakheads to his armor so that when the Wyrm undoubtedly began to try and crush him to death, the Wurm would instead inflict damage unto itself. The unusually knowledgeable wise-woman also let him know that after he killed the Worm that if he did not kill the first thing he saw afterwards, his family would be cursed with non-peaceful deaths for the next nine generations. So, while the local blacksmith was busy filling what was undoubtedly both the most unusual and bad-ass looking order he'd ever gotten with the spear-armor, John talked with his father and basically had the idea that once he killed the Wurm, they could let his favorite dog out and he would then slay it when it ran to him (pretty d-ck move, guys). So, after the armor is ready, Lambton heads down and defeats the nefarious Worm, and gives the signal for the dog-slaying to commence. However, Lambton's dad, obviously showing a bit of the Jackass Tree that his son's Dumbass Apple fell from, instead completely effs everything up and runs out to meet his son with a warm hug and some more than likely asinine platitude ("A Wyrm in pieces is worth two in the well", or something like that, I'd guess). So, thinking that they can escape a prophecy by faking it, they let the dog out and kill it all the same, but it's too late...the Lambtons are thereby cursed for the next nine generations to violent deaths thanks to animal cruelty and/or the inability to follow directions. And supposedly, the curse really did end up following their bloodline, which I guess sort of makes up for skipping church and killing a perfectly innocent dog, right? Anyways, the end ;)
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