"The Black Pig of legend had shown himself. His huge bulk, bristling spine ridges and wicked glaring eyes had been seen on dark nights beyond Elphin. People were afraid to walk the road after dark. The Black Pig had always meant trouble, sorrow and war. Around the fires I heard versions of St. Columcille's prophesies. The dark shadow of the Pig loomed through them. The Spaniard would help.....the last great battle of the Gael would be fought in the valley of the Black Pig....women would walk a day's journey without seeing a man.....
A man near Strokestown told me of the Pig. Words went away from him as he stumbled in description....'as big as a house. Man, dear and a back....God help us....I wouldn't be seen near the place for all the gold in the Bank of Ireland....take my advice, now, like a good gossoon and don't meddle with it.' He had talked to someone who had seen the Pig at the back of the schoolhouse. If I went there at midnight and called three times the Pig would appear.
I knew of the Black Pig's Dyke through successive lines of ramparts and entrenchments that guarded the changing prehistoric boundaries of Ulster. I had seen lengths of the ramparts in different counties. The Pig had wound its way in and out of pagan and Christian belief. It meant something now, whatever it was, and though a series of debates with myself did not give any logic to my action, I was going to call it out.
One dark night I walked down towards the schoolhouse, my hobnailed boots for company in the stillness. I was nervous enough, even though I put my hand a few times to the handle of my .38, yet I felt inclined to laugh at myself for being a bigger fool than I thought I was. I was at the school, before midnight. At twelve o'clock I shouted, 'Come forth.' Silence. 'Come forth,' then a pause. I heard my own voice when it had gone away. 'Come forth,' but no ridge of spines or yellow eyes came out to frighten me."
- "On Another Man's Wound",
March-August 1918, Ernie O'Malley
