The Hound of Ilkley Moor

It is supposedly just a creature of legend, a mythic embodiment of the folklore of Ilkley Moor, yet those who've sighted the hound with their own eyes would dispute this.

The story goes that the hound was out it with its ageing master one winter's day when a snow storm struck. The weather became as wild as anyone can ever remember. The old man wasn't wearing a hat. He was known to be stubborn and not one for superstition. Somehow, man and animal became separated in the blizzard, the snow falling so hard that any footprints were immediately covered, the wind gusting so strong that any scent was instantly dispersed. The hound never did get reunited with its master.

When the weather subsided various search parties found no trace of him. The hound was frantic, running around in random circles that gave them no clue as to where to look. It was only when a thaw set in and the snow began to melt away a week later that his head was finally spotted, appearing out of a drift that had piled up against an old drystone wall. It is said that his still frozen face revealed a look of contentment. There are worse ways to leave the world for a lonely old Yorkshireman. 

The hound was often to be seen in the following weeks and months. It refused to be coaxed down from the moor, still intent on carrying out its own search. It had been looking elsewhere when the body was carried away. Nobody found a way to explain that to the dog. It was brought food by local people out walking the moor, but over the next few years it was seen less and less, and people no longer thought to bring any scraps for the poor thing. It was then seen so seldom that the hound was assumed to have perished too.

But the sightings have never completely gone away. Every so often, always in winter, always when there is mist around, in that twilight zone between lightness and darkness, people continue to catch a glimpse of the hound, just as I did today, still looking for its master. 

That hound is over a hundred years old now.