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I had always heard–rather outlandishly–that some of the last of all European jackals live on the island of Korcula. This claim made me dubious, to say the least. Jackals, those Egyptian desert dogs, offspring of Anubis, inhabiting a green Adriatic isle? No way. And indeed, the claim is wrong… but not for the reasons I suspected.

According to legend, Korcula’s jackals originated during the Middle Ages, and the centuries-long rivalry between the Venetian Empire and the independent Republic of Dubrovnik. Supposedly those dastardly Venetians imported jackals from Africa and set them loose on Korcula thereby somehow to plague Dubrovnik’s land and citizens.

 Korcula (photo by Bob Blade)

There are two problems with that old story, however. First, research has shown that the jackals of the Dalmatian islands are actually not closely related to African jackals. In fact, the Dalmatian jackals are much more closely related to wolf species. The upshot: those jackals on Korcula didn’t come from Africa. Second is a historical refutation of the legend: throughout the several centuries (from the 1400s until 1797) of Venetian rule in the Adriatic, Korcula belonged most of the time to Venice, not Dubrovnik. So why then would the Venetians import those jackals as a scourge on their own territory? Doesn’t make sense.

So, then, where did those pesky jackals come from? People who are much more knowledgeable than I about such things have determined that these Dalmatian jackals probably spread thousands of years ago into the Balkans from Asia Minor, since the genetic relationships between the species of these two areas are pretty close.

Next question: how did the jackals end up on islands like Korcula, where they were historically more widespread than on the mainland? I don’t think the answer is that they liked the beaches, wine, and island lifestyle more. Rather, it seems to be that jackal species lived more extensively on the islands because on the mainland they suffered from competition with wolves. Where wolves were relatively thick on the ground, the jackals were sparse. And make no mistake: Dalmatia has wolves, even today. If you’ve ever seen those rugged Dalmatian mountains, you can imagine that wolves still live there. One intriguing, wolf-related fact that I came upon while doing the research for this post was that in 1348, when the city of Split was ravaged by the Black Plague, wolves came down out of the mountains and preyed upon the corpse-heaped city. Pretty cool.

What’s interesting is that these days, wolves in the Balkans are threatened, their numbers declining. As a result, though, jackal populations have been increasing. This is another reason that the old saw about Korcula harboring “the last jackals of Europe” is untrue. In fact, according to the EU-sponsored European Mammal Assessment, jackal numbers are stable in southeastern Europe, not even endangered. That’s good news for these hardy little critters, since all the way back to 1491 jackals have been hunted on Korcula.

 Canis aureus, the Golden Jackal

Anymore, though, the Golden Jackal–that’s the species that lives on Korcula–seems to be doing pretty well. Yes, they really are there… even if they are not the last of all European jackals. I’m told, actually, that on some moonlit nights out in the countryside, you can still even hear the jackals howling. That, too, is pretty cool.

Thanks to Bob for his photo!

I once knew a guy who was into re-enacting World War Two battles. One time he was going to jump out of an airplane with his whole re-enactment “battalion” to make believe some parachuted-in firefight in France. The only problem was that the skydiving company wouldn’t let him jump with the rest of his group… because this guy was too fat.

What does this story have to do the Adriatic? Well, it tells you that re-enacting historical battles can be silly but kind of fun. It also tells you that people today are often fatter than they were in history. All of these lessons apply to Korcula’s annual re-enactment of one of the greatest naval battles in medieval Europe.

 Korcula

This battle was a titanic clash in 1298 between the rival fleets of Venice and Genoa. Venice launched some 95 ships at the Genoans, who were seriously outnumbered. Legend has it that among those sailing for Venice was none other than Marco Polo, who, also according to legend, called Korcula his hometown.

Fortune was not with Marco Polo and the Venetians that day in early September some seven hundred years ago. The Venetian commander, son of the doge, was killed. Of those 95 ships, the Venetians lost 85. And despite being outnumbered, the hardy Genoans managed to kill 9000 of their enemies. Even Marco Polo was supposedly taken prisoner and thrown into a cell in Genoa… where he began dictating the memoirs of his travels, which subsequently became famous, and remain so until this day.

Much more recently–just a few years ago, in fact–the people of Korcula began re-enacting this storied battle as both a commemoration and a tourist bonanza. I was there last September when the re-enactment took place. It was indeed a little bit silly. Korculan guys paraded around in medieval outfits. Actors, including one portraying Marco Polo, delivered somewhat cheesy speeches in Croatian that very few of the tourist onlookers actually understood. A bunch of excursion boats sailed around in the strait between Korcula and the Peljesac peninsula, pretending to attack each other in the very same waters where once the soldiers and sailors really were at each others’ throats.

But hey, it was fun. It’s a bit of low-key spectacle. The Korculans do their best. And it is kind of a neat way to connect to a stirring historical event. I’ve included a few of my pictures from that day, but if you want to check out a pretty good, edited video of the whole festivities, surf over to this site.

For a more in-depth account of the historical event, see this summary.

One of the greatest glories of the town of Korcula—a pretty glorious place in most regards—are the carvings on the main façade of the cathedral. They count among the most impressive artistic achievements of the entire medieval age along the Dalmatian coast. They amaze me for both their actual sculptural quality as well as for their outlandish inventiveness.

In September of 2007 I caught the cathedral in spectacular light at the very end of the day—that honeyed light for which Dalmatia is so famous. My photos turned out quite well, and you can get a great look at these carvings, many of them executed by local artisans (not ones imported from Italy, which was more common).

Korcula cathedral photo 1

In the first photo you get a good overall look at both the traceried rose window, the wonderful carvings on the cornice, and the bell tower. In the bottom left of the photo, notice the serpent at the corner of the cathedral façade: the cornice decoration actually bursts out of the creature’s mouth, so in fact the entire roofline is really an ornamented representation of a serpent’s tongue.

Korcula cathedral photo 2

The next photo gives a good look at the peak of the cornice, crowned by a floral finial. Beneath the finial, notice the carving of a woman in 14^th century fashions. You can also see the pattern of beast heads alternating with scallop shells in pointed arches.

Korcula cathedral photo 3

I really love the work in the next photo. To the right you see the carvings of the corner of the cathedral façade; notice the bizarre long-nosed monster at the top, above the human face and the serpent head whose tongue forms the cornice. Just below the human face is a wonderful devil’s head—though it has horns, this face looks like a cross between a pig and a dog to me. The little arches to the right and left of the devil’s head are reminiscent of a typical Venetian Gothic arch. Notice also the clock in the tower, with the orb showing the phase of the moon.

Korcula cathedral photo 4

The last picture shows some of the carvings around the main cathedral doors. Though I didn’t manage to get them in the same miraculous sunset light, you can still get a good view of the beautifully detailed medieval representation of a lion. The lion has another creature in its claws; it almost looks like another lion, though a lamb would be more typical given medieval symbolism. Beneath the lion that’s what I think is a rather dirty image of Eve, really letting it all hang out.

Do you have any favorite churches or art along the Adriatic coast?