A Griffin, a Lion, and a Wild Man Walk onto a Bridge

Every January, the Wild Maa (Wild Man) rafts down the Rhine, dancing and shaking a small spruce tree¹, roots and all. Drummers and cannoneers accompany him on the raft, and the cannon fire announces their approach well before they float into sight. The raft docks near the Mittlere Brücke, the Middle Bridge, where the Leu (Lion) and Greif (Griffin) meet the Wild Man. At noon, preceded by Ueli (jesters or fools) rattling collection cans, a drum corps, and banner men, the trio parades to the center of the Middle Bridge. There, they perform their individual dances for a man in a black coat and a black hat, dance together, repeat their individual dances, dance together once more, and then return to dance in the streets of Kleinbasel². 

A very didstant Wild Man dancing and shaking his tree on his raft.

Welcome to Vogel Gryff, or the Festival of the Griffin (even though Vogel Gryff literally translates to “Bird Griffin”). It’s an annual event in Kleinbasel that is not Fasnacht-related, despite similar military roots that today manifest as parades with drums and masked figures. The event began in the 15th century as weapons musters for the three honorary societies charged with guarding the city wall. A parade and a meal followed the musters, and until 1838, the societies held separate musters on the dates that Vogel Gryff cycles through today. The Rebhaus society held theirs on January 13; Hären on January 20; and Griffin on January 27. The societies joined together in 1839, and now Vogel Gryff occurs annually on one of those days. 

The dancing creatures are the societies’ heraldic figures. The Lion represents Rebhaus, whose existence is first documented in 1304, and which represented farmers and gardeners. Hären, which is a trap or net for catching feathered game, has the Wild Man. This society originally represented hunters and fishermen and is first noted in 1384. Finally, the Greifen society shows up around 1409³, has the Griffin as its mascot, and included millers, tanners, weavers, and lesser nobility. 

All these societies still exist and you might be able to join them⁴ if you’re a man of good reputation who lives in Kleinbasel (or elsewhere in canton Basel and have owned “significant property” for at least two years), are also a citizen of Basel, and are at least 18 years old. For everyone else, there’s the Bear Society, which was formed in 1998 and welcomes members regardless of nationality, gender, or residence. They hold a parade for children on January 12. 

Crushed on the Bridge

We attended our first Vogel Gryff on Saturday and arrived on the Middle Bridge in time to hear the cannon. Soon, the Wild Man’s raft floated around the bend in the river. Around 10:50, the bell in the small chapel in the middle of the bridge began ringing, presumably to welcome the Wild Man. 

The current carried the raft farther than planned: rather than disembarking before reaching our bridge, the raft went below us and docked further downstream. They fired the cannon while under the bridge, which was frighteningly loud. 

We managed to stay close to the front and center of the viewing area on the bridge. In the company of thousands of other people, all seemingly crushing us, we watched the Wild Man, Griffin, and Lion perform their dances for a society official, who doffed his hat to each (Gabe’s newsletter has more pictures of the Griffin and the crowd). The Wild Man spun and jabbed his tree. This character’s dancer has two mask options: a smiling mask and a grimacing one. Both are made of copper and the latter weighs about six kilograms or 13 pounds. On Saturday, the Wild Man grimaced. The person playing the Vogel Gryff has it worse: the head and wings weigh 44 kilograms (97 pounds). This is probably why his dance mostly involves bowing, although bowing with that much top weight seems risky. 

Hats off for the Griffin

It seems best to play the Lion, whose costume looks warm and furry and allows him to jump and twirl. He looks very much like a medieval lion, a cathedral gargoyle – what someone would create if they’d only ever heard a description of a lion.

Leaping Lion

As they dance, the figures face Kleinbasel, keeping their backs to Grossbasel, historically where the wealthier people lived. On the float, the Wild Man also turns his back to Grossbasel. Supposedly this is to keep his eyes on Kleinbasel, which he honors with his dance. I’ve always heard that this is about turning their backs on Grossbasel, or even shaking their butts at that half of the city. An article in the 1968 Basel Stadtbuch confirms that backs to Grossbasel was Kleinbasel citizens’ protest against the Lällekönig (Tongue King), a 15th-century bust of a king sticking out his tongue toward Kleinbasel that was once on the Rhine gate. Today, there’s a replica on a building near the Middle Bridge; the original is in the Basel Historical Museum. 

Now that I’ve experienced this tradition, I’m not sure I’ll jam myself into the crowd for the bridge dances again. The next Saturday Vogel Gryff doesn’t happen until 2029, but I might take a break on a weekday before then to watch that Wild Man’s intense river journey. The three figures make something like 55 stops throughout Kleinbasel, so I might leave future encounters to chance.

1.  Perhaps it’s a fir tree, I’m unskilled at distinguishing between conifers. 

2. The Rhine divides Basel into Kleinbasel (small, or “lesser” Basel, but that’s rude) and Grossbasel (big Basel). Kleinbasel is on the north bank; Grossbasel, the south. I’ve recently heard Kleinbasel referred to as the Brooklyn to Grossbasel’s Manhattan.

3.  These dates are just the first time the societies appear in written records. They likely existed before. 

4.  https://www.vogel-gryff.ch/web22/index.php/organisation/ueber-uns/mitgliedschaft