Wild Hunt (Ger. Wilde Jagd; also Wüthenheer), the name given by the German people to a fancied noise sometimes heard in the air at night, mostly between Christmas and Epiphany, as of a host of spirits rushing along, accompanied by the shouting of hunters and the baying of dogs. The root of the notion is doubtless to be found in the Christian degradation of the old heathen gods. Like Woden, the lord of all atmospheric and weather phenomena, and consequently of storms, the Wild Huntsman also appears on horseback, in hat and cloak, accompanied by a train of spirits—by the ghosts of drunkards, suicides, and other malefactors, often without heads, or otherwise mutilated. When he comes to a cross-road, he falls, and gets up on the other side. Generally he brings hurt or destruction, especially to any one rash enough to address him or join in the hunting cry, as many persons valiant in their drink have done. Whoever remains standing in the middle of the highway, or steps aside into a tilled field, or throws himself in silence on the earth, escapes the danger. In many districts heroes of the older or of the more modern legends take the place of Odin: thus, in Lusatia, Dietrich of Bern; in Swabia, Berchtold; in Sleswick, King Abel; in Lower Hesse, Charles the Great; in England, King Arthur; in Denmark, King Waldemar. The legend has also in recent times attached itself to individual sportsmen, who, as a punishment for their immoderateness or cruelty in sport, or for hunting on Sunday, were condemned henceforth to follow the chase by night. In Lower Germany there are many such stories current of one Hakkelberend, whose tomb even is shown in several places.
Another version of the Wild Hunt is to be found in the legend prevalent in Thuringia. There the procession, formed partly of children who had died unbaptised, and headed by Frau Holle or Holda, passed yearly through the country on Holy Thursday, and the assembled people waited its arrival, as if a mighty king were approaching. An old man with white hair, the faithful Eckhart, preceded the spirit-host to warn the people out of the way. In one form or other the legend of the Wild Hunt is spread over all German countries, and is found also in France, and even in Spain. In England we meet substantially the same notion in folklore—phantom dogs, like the black Shuck-dog of Norfolk and the Manthe hound of Peel in Man, the 'Wisht Hounds' of Dartmoor, headless horses, a ghostly coach and horses swept along in a storm of wind. In Shropshire Miss Burne describes 'Wild Edric,' 'Squire Blount' with his coach and four, 'Madam Pigott' with her babe in her arms; Mr Henderson tells us of the 'Seven Whistlers' and the spectral pack called 'Gabriel's Hounds' which may still be seen, and more often heard, in the bleak and lonely moors of the North country. The latter are monstrous human-headed dogs which sweep through the air, and portend death or calamity to the house over which they hang. Mr Yarrell ascribes these weird sounds heard on dark nights to the bean-geese flocking southwards on the approach of winter, and Mr Buckland ascribes the strange rustling, rushing sound often heard in dark still nights of winter to the flight of the redwings. This sound is called the Herring Spear or Herring Piece by the Dover and Folkestone fishermen, who mostly count it as an omen of good success for their fishing, while the cry of the Seven Whistlers again they usually consider as a death omen.