Two Liver birds stand atop of the Liver Building, Bella and Bertie. Together, they watch over the city, protecting the children and controlling the Mersey River. However, they are tied down to the building to ensure no escaping so the people of Liverpool can live in peace and protection. But this meant the birds would never be free. Bella watches over the sea, ensuring the seamen would return home safely, while Bertie looks over the city, to guarantee security of the seamen’s families and the pubs, a staple of Liverpool culture. The birds stay put, but legend has it that if a virgin woman and an honest man were to fall in love in front of the Liver building, they would come to life. Tragically, they keep waiting for that to happen, still in their same position to this day.
I grew up with this folklore tale being a prominent part of my childhood, as my earliest memories are going into the city centre and my dad, who worked in the Liver Building, retelling me this story. One time I visited a museum in Liverpool and found two to-scale versions of the two birds inside, and I remember thinking how big they were, especially in comparison to nine-year-old me. As much as this is a jolly tale, with a nod to Liverpool’s nautical past, it used to scare me. What if the Liver Birds did break free of their chains and fly away? Even though they’d finally be together, my city would cease to exist, and the river would flood. I guess that’s what makes folklore anecdotes so interesting, though, the balance between entertainment and moral teachings.
The Liver Birds are such a prominent part of Liverpool; when you visit the centre they are adorned everywhere, including the official coat of arms. Most logos incorporate some part of the birds, with possibly the most recognisable being Liverpool Football Club’s logo. The club adopted the Liver Bird symbolism to give a nod towards the maritime heritage, to incorporate it into the legacy and show unity with the city. A royal charter was awarded by King John when Liverpool was being established as a borough in 1207, and the King chose the Liver Bird to depict this transition so it could be differentiated between other regions. This is where our love for the birds began, and our stories started to be created.
There is also a strong belief regarding mermaids in Liverpool’s coastline, which has been reflected for centuries through paintings and sculptures. I vividly remember trying to find the mermaid sculptures in Vale Park as a child and being transfixed by the colourful scales. One famous folklore tale from the 19th century relays a lost mermaid ringing a church bell at dawn every Easter Sunday, but the origins and reasonings are scrambled. Mermaids tended to represent transgression and preservation, and during that time period, religion was a big part of culture. It may have been created to repeat how important going to church was, or maybe there were phantom mermaids in the groggy water of the Mersey. A hotspot for mermaid activity is a dangerous fort just opposite the Liver Buildings, Fort Perch Rock in New Brighton. On early maps created for Liverpool, mermaids are depicted around this fort due to the confidence of their existence.
Outside of the Mersey, there is a strong conviction in the existence of mermaid ghosts that roam the city centre. On Paradise Street, there is a green gate decorated with golden mermaids, sea serpents, and of course Liver Birds. Placed to serve as a reminder to folk tales, they claim to call to the ghosts of lost mermaids which are stuck in the emptiness from destroyed buildings. The mermaids in Liverpool now represent the significance of our heritage, and serve as reminders to our port, navigating the dangers of the sea and mindfulness.
A lesser-known folk story from the Liverpool coast is from Formby, which is more specifically the place where I grew up. It was passed down to me as I grew up, due to Formby’s beautiful beach and forests. Frequently, I would go on walks with my family and climb the sand dunes, and look out to our neighbouring scenery, such as Blackpool, the Lake District, and North Wales. As it seems, many places have a phantom black dog that spreads misfortune to all who see it, and Formby is no exception. When I would climb the sandy dunes, I would look out for the hound, just so I could also experience first-hand a classic folklore tale.
Old Trash gets its name from the sound it makes as it splashes through the wet sand, as it runs to explore new ground. The sightings are told by walkers, who have come to Formby to enjoy the natural beauty but were instead met with a shabby hound with luminous eyes, watching from the top of a sand dune. It stares maliciously at the walkers below. It is said to be a sign of ill fortune if its eyes find you. It was first seen on Halloween night in 1962, and since then has had many encounters, with most being seeing a big beast on top of a sand dune in the dead of night, only for it to disappear a moment later. So be warned, if hiking in the presence of a full moon you begin to hear a devilish howl.
These folklore stories have shaped me as I’ve grown up, and I feel like most people could say the same. They help to pave our cultures and invite us to explore different worlds and find our interests from an early age. For that reason, I would invite everyone to continue to pass these tales down through generations and keep the beliefs alive.
Rosy Hale
Make sure to check out the next episode of the York St John Folklore Anthology Project podcast ‘Hit or Myth’ on Friday 21st March, where folklore superstitions will be discussed!
Submissions for the anthology are open now! Check the guidelines on the Where Ideas Grow blog page.
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