I recently spent some time in Colchester catching up with my younger brother, and we decided to visit Colchester Castle while we were nearby. We tried to go there as a family once when we were children (back in 2001) but it was unfortunately closed due to the presence of a suspicious package in Castle Park that was thought to have been a bomb. Thankfully, it turned out to be a false alarm. We were both aware that since that visit the Castle had undergone development to modernise it. Something we didn’t anticipate is that there was an exhibition on titled Mythical Creatures, that was an invitation to suspend modern logic and let imagination take the reins. This was not merely a parade of imaginary beasts, it is a gesture toward the human impulse to explain, to warn, to hope, and to play, rendered in bones, history and folklore to explain the origins of different mythical beasts and their impact on society.

In the lower atrium, visitors were introduced to the exhibition which is housed on the upper floor. Centre stage was an elephant skull, can you guess which mythical monster this influenced? That hole where the trunk attaches was thought to have been the singular eye socket of the cyclops! Cyclops first appear in ancient Greek mythology, most notably in Hesiod’s Theogony, where they are described as primordial, one-eyed giants who forged Zeus’s thunderbolts. Later traditions, such as Homer’s Odyssey, portray them differently, as solitary, lawless shepherds like the infamous Polyphemus. These varying depictions suggest that the idea of cyclops evolved over time, possibly inspired by ancient fossil finds (like the elephant skulls) or by attempts to personify natural forces such as storms and volcanic eruptions. Their presence in early myths reflects the human desire to explain the mysterious and imposing aspects of the natural world. The impact of cyclopes on mythology and later culture has been substantial. They serve as archetypes of raw, untamed strength and the dangers of a world beyond civilisation. In literature, their encounters with heroes highlight themes of cunning versus brute force, order versus chaos, and the triumph of intelligence over savagery. Their image continues to influence modern fantasy, art, and storytelling, where the one-eyed giant often symbolises either monstrous threat or divine craftsmanship. Their enduring legacy shows how ancient myths continue shaping the stories we tell today.

Chapter One addressed unicorns which first emerged in ancient mythology as attempts to explain encounters with unfamiliar animals, which also embodied ideals of purity and power. Early descriptions appear in the writings of Greek historians such as Ctesias, who relayed tales from Persia and India of a fierce, one-horned beast resembling a wild ass. These accounts were not presented as fantasy but as natural history, shaped by second-hand reports of creatures like the Indian rhinoceros (Rhinoceros unicornis) and embellished through retelling. As stories travelled westward along trade routes, the unicorn shifted from a vaguely exotic animal into a more symbolic creature, its single horn gradually taking on miraculous qualities. It is for this reason that a replica rhino horn is on display within the exhibition along side a horse skull. By the Middle Ages, unicorns had become firmly rooted in European folklore and Christian iconography. Bestiaries (medieval compendiums of real and imaginary animals) portrayed the unicorn as small, swift, and impossible to capture except by a pure maiden. This narrative, which has no analogue in earlier sources, reflected the medieval appetite for allegory. The unicorn’s taming symbolised the incarnation, while its horn was believed to neutralise poison and cure illness. As monasteries copied and illuminated these texts, the image of the unicorn crystallised into the form most familiar today: a graceful, horse-like creature with a spiralling horn and an air of divine innocence.

Over time, the unicorn’s symbolism expanded beyond religious meaning to encompass broader cultural aspirations. Renaissance art elevated the unicorn as an emblem of chivalric virtue, while apothecaries sought (and sold) so-called unicorn horn, often narwhal tusk, as a cure-all. In later centuries, Romantic writers embraced the unicorn as a symbol of the unattainable and the sublime. The creature’s evolution shows how myth adapts to the needs of each era: a real animal glimpsed from afar became a moral lesson, a commodity, and ultimately a universal symbol of wonder. Today, you may be surprised to know that the unicorn is the national animal of Scotland, as it is the only animal that can defeat both a lion and a dragon. Next time you look at your passport, you’ll notice that the unicorn is in chains because, in medieval heraldry, the unicorn was believed to be an incredibly powerful, wild, and untameable creature. It was said that only a virgin could subdue a unicorn, and even then its strength was immense. Placing a chain on the unicorn symbolised that this wild force had been tamed and brought under control. Given this animal represents Scotland, I’ll let you make your own decision on the true symbolism.

Griffins are among the oldest hybrid creatures in world mythology, with origins stretching back to the ancient Near East and Central Asia. Chapter Two focusses on these iconic beasts. The earliest known depictions come from Bronze Age cultures around the Black Sea, particularly the Scythians, who crafted gold ornaments showing powerful creatures with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle. These early images likely emerged from the symbolic pairing of two dominant animals in the region: the lion, representing strength and sovereignty, and the eagle, embodying vision and divine authority. Together, they formed a guardian figure associated with mountains, horizons, and the boundary between the earthly and the divine. As trade and cultural exchange expanded, especially along routes linking the Near East, Greece, and Egypt, griffin imagery spread and evolved. Greek writers from the 7th century BCE onward describe griffins as guardians of gold in the distant reaches of the world, often situating them near the legendary Hyperboreans or in deserts beyond the edges of the known map. Some scholars suggest that the griffin’s association with gold may stem from ancient encounters with fossil beds in Central Asia. The beaked skulls of Protoceratops found near gold-rich regions could easily have inspired tales of fearsome, beaked quadrupeds defending precious resources. Whether or not this theory is correct, it reflects how ancient observers blended natural phenomena with imagination.

By the classical and medieval periods, the griffin had become firmly entrenched as a symbol of vigilance, majesty, and divine protection. Medieval heraldry adopted the creature enthusiastically, emphasising its dual nature, lion strength and eagle nobility. In art and architecture, griffins often appear as protectors of sacred spaces, thrones, and treasures, continuing their ancient role as guardians. Throughout these transitions, the griffin retained its essential form and meaning, illustrating how a mythic creature can travel across cultures and millennia while remaining recognisably itself.

Dragons have some of the deepest and most widespread roots of any mythical creature, appearing independently in cultures across Europe, Asia, the Middle East, and the Americas. Their origin is often traced to humanity’s earliest attempts to make sense of dangerous natural forces and unfamiliar animals. In regions where snakes were deadly, dragons often took on serpentine forms. In mountainous or volcanic landscapes, they became embodiments of fire, storms, or the earth’s raw power. Fossil discoveries likely played a role as well: ancient peoples encountering the massive bones of dinosaurs or prehistoric mammals naturally imagined the creatures that might have produced them, giving rise to legends of colossal, reptilian beings. In the ancient Near East and Mediterranean, dragons were typically portrayed as monstrous adversaries to be defeated by gods or heroes. Mesopotamian myths include Tiamat, the primeval sea dragon, while Greek stories feature Ladon, Typhon, and the serpent-like Python (which is where we get the name for the snakes of the same name). These creatures often symbolised chaos or the untamed forces of nature, and their defeat represented cosmic order being restored. Their forms varied. Sometimes wingless serpents, sometimes multi-headed beasts but their narrative purpose was consistent, they marked the boundary between danger and safety, between the known world and the unknown.

In East Asia, dragons developed along a very different trajectory. Chinese ‘long dragons’, dating back thousands of years, were benevolent, wise, and associated with water, rain, and imperial authority. Far from being enemies to humanity, they served as symbols of harmony between heaven and earth. Their origins likely fused totemic animal worship, reverence for natural cycles, and the collective memory of large reptiles such as crocodiles (see image above). Over time, these contrasting traditions including the destructive, treasure-hoarding dragons of Europe and the auspicious, serpentine dragons of Asia shaped a global tapestry of dragon mythology. Despite their differences, all point to the same impulse, to personify the overwhelming forces of nature in a form both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

When it comes to the final mythological creatures we meet in the exhibition, they have a rich and varied history. Mermaids can trace their origins to some of the earliest maritime civilisations, where stories of part-human, part-fish beings emerged from humanity’s longstanding relationship with the sea. In ancient Mesopotamia, one of the first known mer-beings was the god Oannes, a wise, fish-bodied figure who brought knowledge to humankind. Similarly, the Syrian goddess Atargatis (often considered the first true mermaid) was depicted with a woman’s upper body and a fish’s tail. These early myths reflected both reverence for and fear of the water: rivers and seas were lifelines for trade and survival, yet they were also unpredictable and deadly. Imagining supernatural beings beneath the waves helped ancient peoples personify the mysteries and dangers of the deep. As seafaring expanded, mermaid legends spread across the Mediterranean and beyond, blending with local traditions and sailors’ tales. Greek mythology contributed significantly to the developing image of the mermaid. Although early Greek sirens were originally bird-women, over time they became conflated with sea maidens as artistic depictions shifted and maritime folklore evolved. Sailors, encountering manatees or dugongs in foggy conditions or from great distance, may have interpreted these unfamiliar animals as humanoid figures, fuelling further stories of seductive or ominous sea spirits. The merging of natural misinterpretation and oral storytelling shaped mermaids into both alluring and perilous figures, companions to calm waters and harbingers of storms.

By the medieval period, mermaids had become firmly rooted in European folklore as symbols of temptation, transformation, and the unknown. Church bestiaries portrayed them as moral warnings about vanity and sin, while coastal communities told stories of merfolk who could bless or curse fishermen’s fortunes. Across cultures, their role varied. In Celtic tradition, selkies shed their sealskins to become human, in Slavic lore the rusalki were the water spirits of the unquiet dead. Despite these differences, mermaid myths share a common origin in humanity’s attempt to understand the sea, its gifts, its dangers, and its profound sense of otherness. Over centuries, this blend of natural observation, cultural exchange, and imaginative storytelling created the enduring figure of the mermaid we know today.

For anyone visiting Colchester, the Mythical Creatures exhibition offers more than spectacle. It offers perspective: on how humans across time and place have met the unknown with invention, how art and belief intertwine, and how stories persist, mutate, and return to haunt us in the most delightful ways. As you’ve probably noticed from the audio descriptions I’ve linked throughout, it is also dedicated to accessibility which is something I wish more museum exhibitions would embrace! It is, in short, a museum exhibition that understands why we tell tales about monsters: not only to frighten or entertain, but to make sense of the dark, to project hopes and anxieties, and to remind ourselves (through the figure of the dragon, the mermaid or the unicorn), that the world is wider and stranger than our daily routines allow us to recognise. If you can, please do go and visit it. Entry is included within your tickets to visit Colchester Castle and it will only be there until the 22nd February 2026. If you do visit, please let me know what mythical beast or specimen was your favourite!

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