10 Times the Christian Church Took on the Animal Kingdom

Christianity has had a choppy relationship with the animal kingdom over the years, from the sacrifices of the Old Testament to the generally favorable status animals enjoy in the modern Christian mindset. Along the way, the Christian Church has had a particularly tough time deciding where it stands, caught between respecting God’s creations on the one hand and preventing their wanton destructiveness on the other.

As a result, from the fall of the Roman Empire to the end of the Enlightenment, Church authorities have wound up persecuting, trying, exorcising, punishing, and otherwise taking on animals of every shape and size—often without much success. And that’s not counting sources of myth or legend—because Saint Patrick did not, in fact, drive the snakes out of Ireland!

Here are ten historical cases of the Christian Church going toe-to-toe with animals.

Related: 10 Slithery Surprises about Snake-Handling Churches

10 Archbishop of Trier Anathematized Swallows, 977–993

The Early Middle Ages aren’t known as the Dark Ages for nothing, as the fall of the Roman Empire had major repercussions for the intellectual and cultural development of Europe, paving the way for some pretty archaic (by both pre–Middle Ages and modern standards) practices to creep in. Following the dissolution of the Empire, Europe metastasized into a church-state of Christendom, where Catholicism reigned supreme, and superstition and barbarism were the orders of the day.

Figures like Egbert (950–993) moved from the nobility into the Church and helped control the masses through this new authority. After training in Egmond Abbey (founded by his own family), Egbert became the Archbishop of Trier in 977—but just because he had the authority didn’t mean he was right.

Egbert sought divine intervention, regularly disturbed by swallows, who chirped and tweeted through his services and defiled his vestments at the Trier Cathedral altar. Rather than contact a bird-handler, he anathematized the swallows, forbidding them to enter the cathedral on pain of death. And it’s said the superstition still holds in Trier that if a swallow flies into the cathedral, it will drop dead.^[1]

9 Saint Bernard Excommunicated Flies, 1124

Bernard of Clairvaux (1090–1153), venerated as Saint Bernard, was the Christian abbot who co-founded the Knights Templar at a time when religious mysticism and militancy were potent and the Crusades were in full swing.

Despite his exalted position within the Church and his influence as a scion of the French high nobility, Saint Bernard wasn’t always occupied by founding abbeys, going on political maneuvers to influence the papacy, or advocating for holy crusades. No, sometimes he was concerned with everyday pests.

In 1124, Saint Bernard was called upon to deal with a swarm of flies irritating worshippers and the officiating priests in the abbey church of Foigny. Drawing on his mystic connection to God, Bernard cursed and excommunicated the flies. Accounts differ on what happened next, with some claiming the flies fell to the floor dead right there and others merely that the flies were gone by the following day. Either way, supernatural maledictions against animals were considered a win-win for the Church: if the pest departed, the anathema had worked, and if they didn’t, then the failure could be attributed to the sins of the congregation.^[2]

8 Pope Gregory Demonized Black Cats, 1233

The 13th century was a time of heightened superstition in Europe and saw the Church demonizing heretics left, right, and center, linking their lack of belief in Catholicism to the devil. Pope Gregory IX (1145–1241) was a product of these times and led the Catholic Church from 1227, having spent the bulk of his life ascending through the Church’s pillars of power in Rome.

Despite being so wedded to Christian ideology as to ascend to the papacy, Pope Gregory’s love of God’s lands and gifts was not universal. He wasn’t a big fan of black cats.

In 1233, he issued the Vox in Rama papal bull, which condemned the heresy of Luciferianism that was reportedly spreading through Germany, demonized heretics, and designated black cats as an embodiment of Satan. Accounts differ on the results of this edict, as some historians go as far as to claim that this led to the orchestrated extermination of cats by the Inquisition for centuries, contributing to the spread of the plague. What’s for certain is our historically maligned, black-furred friends didn’t fare well.^[3]

7 Sainte Geneviève Monks Burned a Child-Eating Pig, 1266

Despite witchcraft, mysticism, and heresy being popular topics in Medieval Europe, it was nonetheless usually illegal to execute anyone—man, child, or beast—without a trial. This meant pretty much everyone and everything would face a court, more often than not organized and administrated by the Church, which, as the arbiter of morality, played a central role in maintaining and meting out law and order.

If found guilty of a capital crime, humans, dogs, cows, pigs, horses, bulls, corpses, and even inanimate objects were sent to the stake or to the gallows, with the animals sometimes dressed in human clothes.

In 1266, at Fontenay-aux-Roses, a commune in the southwestern suburbs of Paris, France, a pig was captured after attacking and eating a small child. Tried, convicted, and sentenced to death, the hog was publicly burned by the monks of Sainte Geneviève. This holds the record for the first officially documented animal execution.^[4]

6 Basel Tried a Rooster, 1474

Even in the dying days of the Middle Ages, as Europe headed rapidly into the Renaissance, certain members of the Church still had it in for the animal kingdom. Switzerland was under Catholic rule and Catholic law in the 15th century. It was seized by the same supernatural hysteria that fueled the Inquisition.

Though overseen or conducted by the Church, trials of animals did not often include the accusation of demonic possession or witchcraft—charges usually reserved for wicked humans, or at least those perceived as such. Nonetheless, in 1474 Basel (Bâle), the trial of a rooster (or cock) was a notable exception.

The male bird was charged with laying an egg, and in the eyes of the Church, rooster eggs were the product and tool of witchcraft—and an age-old belief suggested that the egg, if not destroyed, would become either a basilisk (giant snake) or a cockatrice (two-legged dragon). It was successfully argued that this was a case of Satan having entered the rooster, and the bird was publicly burned at the stake.^[5]

5 Bishop of Lausanne Anathematized Beetles, 1478–9

Elsewhere in Switzerland, things weren’t a whole lot more sensible. In Lausanne, a species of bruchus (a type of beetle) was destroying local crops, so the bishop of the time—Benoît de Montferrand (ca. 1446–1491)—stepped in.

The bishop conducted a trial against the bruchus, where evidence of their destruction and the suffering they had caused from local clergy was heard. After a conference with the bishop, it was decided that they would be anathematized. A mandate was issued urging the citizens of Lausanne to pray and commanding the insects to depart from the fields within six days.

But these measures didn’t stick, as a continuation of this case against the bruchus—or possibly a new one—was conducted in 1479. The insects continued doing more damage than ever, and a further trial was conducted, with the court banning and exorcising the insects. As this again had no effect, the Church blamed the sins of the citizens, claiming God had permitted the insect to remain as punishment until they repented their wickedness and gave evidence of their love to Him by presenting allocations of their remaining crops to the Church.^[6]

4 Cardinal Bishop of Autun Cursed the Slugs, 1487

The commune of Autun in central France saw a lot of action taken against animals in the 15th century—but most of it was fruitless. In 1487, having been informed that slugs were eating the crops and devastating several estates across different parts of his diocese, the sitting cardinal bishop of Autun ordered public processions for three days in each parish, enjoining upon the slugs to leave the estates under penalty of being accursed.

In this, as in similar cases from the same time, the clergy members from the area were charged with leading these processions and ensuring that, if the slugs did not depart, they would be excommunicated and smitten with anathema.

The slugs were warned three times to stop consuming the vital herbs of the fields and grape vines, but whether this actually had any effect was not recorded. Unless the slugs were present at the parishes themselves and capable of understanding French, it’s difficult to see how they would have received the message.^[7]

3 Autun Ecclesiastical Court vs. Rats, 1522

But Autun wasn’t finished with the kingdom of fauna yet. In 1522, rats had plundered the barley crops of Burgundy—the province in which Autun sits—eating their way through an entire harvest and angering the peasants who now found themselves in dire hardship.

With a potential uprising on their hands and the whole region facing famine, riots, and disorder, the clerics felt something had to be done—and fast. Thus, the rats were put on trial by an ecclesiastical court (a tribunal established by religious authorities) in Autun.

The rats were represented by attorney Bartholomew Chassenée (1480–1541; “Barthélemy de Chasseneuz” in other records), who made his name defending this case. When the rats themselves did not appear before the court, Chassenée argued that his clients could not be expected to obey their summons because their mortal enemies—cats—were preventing them from attending safely. As such, Chassenée claimed, they had the right to disobey the summons and mitigate the sentence of the judge—a defense that earned him fame throughout the country, launched his high-profile legal career, and saw him undertake several other similar cases in his lifetime.^[8]

2 St. Julien Trial and Proclamation Against Weevils, 1545–6

The destruction of crops and precious resources by pests has been a common problem for most of human history, with only industrialization and the development of chemical deterrents creating any serious defense against them.

However, in the early modern period in southeastern France, there were certainly no pesticides to turn to when the insects came calling. In 1545, vineyard owners in St. Julien found their precious grape vines in peril from the ravages of the Rhynchites auratus, a common form of weevil. The creatures had infested their crops, so the winemakers brought a complaint and trial against them.

The sentence itself was delayed, but the Church issued a proclamation the following year, instructing public prayers and Mass to be celebrated on three days while the Host was borne in procession around the vineyards, all to appease the divine wrath that the weevils were seemingly evidence of. And, for once, it worked: the insects disappeared, not returning to the vineyards for forty-one years (at which point they were tried again).^[9]

1 Franciscan Monastery Sued Termites, 1713

By the 1700s, Europe was in the Age of Enlightenment, enjoying the kind of social, intellectual, and philosophical progress the preceding thousand years could only have dreamt of. Christianity was still the dominant religion, although science and philosophy were challenging many of the superstitions and supernatural elements of the religion previously taken as rote. On the other side of the world, however, old habits died hard.

In 1713, the friars of a Franciscan monastery in Piedade no Maranhão, Brazil, were locked in conflict with termites. The creatures were not just eating and spoiling the monastery’s food supplies but also gnawing through furniture and the building itself.

The friars filed a complaint with the bishop, and the insects were sued by an ecclesiastical tribunal. Naturally, the termites were appointed a lawyer, who argued that they were God’s own creatures and, therefore, had the right to eat, putting the Church in a bind. The final decision resulted in a compromise: the friars were instructed to provide a dedicated habitat for the insects, and the termites were commanded to remain at this site lest they be excommunicated.^[10]