PODCAST SWAP — History Daily: The Loch Ness Monster

Gabrielle Birchak/ July 22, 2025/ Archive, Uncategorized

In this spe­cial pod­cast swap episode, Math Sci­ence His­to­ry teams up with His­to­ry Dai­ly to bring you one of the most endur­ing mys­ter­ies in mod­ern folk­lore: the leg­end of the Loch Ness Mon­ster. From ancient Scot­tish lore to one of the most infa­mous pho­to­graph­ic hoax­es of the 20th cen­tu­ry, this cap­ti­vat­ing nar­ra­tive blends his­to­ry, myth, and media manip­u­la­tion.
Enjoy this rich col­lab­o­ra­tion with His­to­ry Dai­ly, and dis­cov­er how a blend of mys­tery, myth, and media shaped the glob­al fas­ci­na­tion with Nessie.

3 Things Lis­ten­ers Will Learn:

  • How a 1933 eye­wit­ness account sparked world­wide inter­est in the Loch Ness Monster.
  • The shock­ing truth behind the famous “Surgeon’s Pho­to­graph” and the man who staged it.
  • How hoax­es, head­lines, and his­to­ry inter­sect­ed to build a last­ing legend.

Resources & Links:

Lis­ten to His­to­ry Dai­ly on your favorite pod­cast platform.

His­to­ry Dai­ly on Apple

His­to­ry Dai­ly on Spotify

His­to­ry Dai­ly is a copro­duc­tion of Air­ship and Nois­er

On His­to­ry Dai­ly, we do his­to­ry, dai­ly. Every week­day, host Lind­say Gra­ham (Amer­i­can Scan­dal, Amer­i­can His­to­ry Tellers) takes you back in time to explore a momen­tous event that hap­pened ‘on this day’ in history.

Whether it’s to remem­ber the tragedy of Decem­ber 7th, 1941, the day “that will live in infamy,” or to cel­e­brate that 20th day in July, 1969, when mankind reached the moon, His­to­ry Dai­ly is there to tell you the true sto­ries of the peo­ple and events that shaped our world—one day at a time.So if you’re stuck in traf­fic, bored at work—wherever you are, lis­ten to His­to­ry Dai­ly to remind your­self that some­thing incred­i­ble hap­pened to make that day historic.

PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS

Wel­come to Math, Sci­ence, His­to­ry. I’m Gabrielle Bir­chak, your host. Today, we’re doing a pod­cast swap with His­to­ry Daily.

Today’s fea­ture tells us all about the leg­end of the Loch Ness Mon­ster. Every now and then, his­to­ry blurs the line between myth and mys­tery, and few tales cap­ture the imag­i­na­tion quite like the ones swelling beneath the waters of the Loch Ness. For more infor­ma­tion, you can find a link to His­to­ry Dai­ly in our show notes.

In the year 415, the infa­mous philoso­pher and math­e­mati­cian Hypa­tia of Alexan­dria, Egypt, was sav­age­ly mur­dered by church monks. This mur­der shocked the Roman com­mu­ni­ty and its gov­ern­ment lead­ers. Hypa­tia was known far and wide as a respect­ed philoso­pher, math­e­mati­cian, gov­ern­ment advi­sor, and a professor.

Hypa­tia, the sum of her life, is a book that I wrote that looks not just at the cir­cum­stances sur­round­ing her death, but also at the sum of her entire life. I weave in the details of her edu­ca­tion, dis­ci­ples, Neo­pla­ton­ic philoso­phies, female con­tem­po­raries, and the many math­e­mat­ics that she wrote and taught about. There is tru­ly more to Hypa­ti­a’s life than her death.

Hypa­tia, the sum of her life, writ­ten by me, Gabrielle Bir­chak, is now on sale on Ama­zon. Buy your copy today. Wel­come to today’s pod­cast, Swap with His­to­ry Daily.

I real­ly love lis­ten­ing to His­to­ry Dai­ly. They release an episode every week­day and tell sto­ries of what hap­pened on this day in his­to­ry. They offer a very broad mix of his­to­ry, from his­tor­i­cal bat­tles to fash­ion firsts.

The His­to­ry Dai­ly pod­cast cov­ers every top­ic you can imag­ine, includ­ing sci­ence, tech­nol­o­gy, med­i­cine, sports, and even mys­tery. Lind­sey Gra­ham, the host of His­to­ry Dai­ly, not the sen­a­tor, but the host of His­to­ry Dai­ly, shares with us those intrigu­ing sto­ries and events that cap­ti­vat­ed us over the years and through time. His­to­ry Dai­ly keeps those intrigu­ing sto­ries from dis­ap­pear­ing and serve to remind us that his­to­ry is human.

So, after you’re done lis­ten­ing to today’s pod­cast, be sure to look up His­to­ry Dai­ly on your favorite pod­cast plat­form, sub­scribe, and enjoy a trip back in time to dis­cov­er our his­to­ries. We will also put a link to His­to­ry Dai­ly in our show notes, as well as at our web­site, mathsciencehistory.com. So, with­out fur­ther ado, let’s take a lis­ten to the sto­ry about the Loch Ness Monster.

It’s April 14th, 1933, in the Scot­tish High­lands near the town of Inverness.

Audie Mack­ay sits in the pas­sen­ger seat as her hus­band dri­ves along a qui­et coun­try road. Audie rolls down the win­dow to let in the after­noon breeze, pok­ing her head out to look in the dark water of the lake next to them. She begins to turn her head back to the road where some­thing catch­es her eye, a mys­te­ri­ous move­ment on the lake.

Audie looks across the water, which has been com­plete­ly still until just sec­onds ago. Now she watch­es as it churns. She traces the waves back to their source and lets out a gasp.

Audie cries for her hus­band to stop the car. As the car screech­es to a halt, Audie shouts for him to look at the lake, and with a shak­ing hand, she points to a shape ris­ing out of the lake’s depths. Audie’s stom­ach sinks as she watch­es an enor­mous, black, whale-like crea­ture emerg­ing from the water and then crash­ing back down below.

Audie watch­es as waves big enough to have been caused by a steamship rever­ber­ate through the lake before dis­ap­pear­ing in a mass of foam. Audie and her hus­band stare in shock as the lake grows still once more. They wait on the road­side for half an hour, but the crea­ture nev­er reappears.

Audie’s account of these events will soon be pub­lished by the Inver­ness Couri­er. Her sto­ry of a mon­ster lurk­ing in the depths of Loch Ness will send reporters and sight­seers flock­ing to the lake in hopes of spot­ting the infa­mous Loch Ness mon­ster for them­selves. And as sight­ings con­tin­ue, the leg­end of Loch Ness will con­tin­ue to grow.

But evi­dence of the crea­ture’s exis­tence will be scarce, until the news­pa­per The Dai­ly Mail sparks an inter­na­tion­al sen­sa­tion when it pub­lish­es an alleged pho­to of the Loch Ness mon­ster on April 21st, 1934. From Nois­er and Air­ship, I’m Lind­say Gra­ham, and this is His­to­ry Dai­ly. His­to­ry is made every day.

On this pod­cast, every day, we tell the true sto­ries of the peo­ple and events that shaped our world. Today is April 21st, 1934. The Loch Ness photograph.

It’s the after­noon of July 22nd, 1933, near Loch Ness, three months after Audie Mack­ay’s alleged sight­ing of a mon­ster in the lake. A gen­tle­man named George Spicer hums a tune as he dri­ves down a hill toward Loch Ness, his wife in the pas­sen­ger seat next to him. George turns on the road that runs along­side the lake, ready to begin the long dri­ve back to their home in London.

Between the trees, George catch­es glimpses of the glis­ten­ing sur­face of Loch Ness. Star­ing at the inky water, George briefly won­ders if the rumors around town of a mys­te­ri­ous mon­ster are true. Though Audie Mack­ay’s account of a crea­ture in the lake sent shock­waves through the com­mu­ni­ty, she was not the first to allege that a mon­ster lurked in Loch Ness.

Sto­ries of a mys­te­ri­ous aquat­ic ani­mal in the Loch are root­ed in Scot­tish folk­lore, with accounts dat­ing back over a thou­sand years, but Audie’s sto­ry reignit­ed local fas­ci­na­tion with the lake. But today, myth­i­cal mon­sters feels like an out­landish notion to George. Loch Ness is just anoth­er beau­ti­ful Scot­tish lake to be enjoyed on a scenic dri­ve dur­ing sum­mer weather.

But an excla­ma­tion from his wife inter­rupts his rever­ie. George, what on earth is that? George turns his eyes back to the road. In the dis­tance, George can make out a large, grey lump stretch­ing across the entire width of the road.

He squints hard­er, and as he gets clos­er to the mys­te­ri­ous object, he real­izes it’s not an object at all. George slams on the brakes, his eyes glued on an ani­mal, tak­ing in its long, thin neck, and enor­mous, limb­less body. George watch­es as the crea­ture jerks left and right, slid­ing across the road toward the lake.

In a mat­ter of sec­onds, the crea­ture arrives at the water’s edge, and George stares as the ani­mal descends into the lake and out of sight. On August 4th, 1933, George Spicer’s account will be pub­lished by the Inver­ness Couri­er, and soon picked up by major papers through­out the coun­try. Spicer’s sto­ry of a pre­his­toric abom­i­na­tion with a three-arched neck and a body four feet high will spark a new lev­el of pub­lic inter­est in the mys­te­ri­ous Loch Ness monster.

Lon­don news­pa­pers will send cor­re­spon­dence to the lake. Updates on the lat­est news from Loch Ness will fre­quent­ly inter­rupt radio pro­grams, and soon boats will fill the lake with out­doors­men and Boy Scouts scour­ing the depths. Deck chairs will adorn the lake shores as sight­seers wait for the mon­ster to reappear.

Traf­fic jams will fill the road­ways. A cir­cus will even put up a reward for the beast­’s cap­ture. But all evi­dence of a mon­ster will remain anecdotal.

It’s Decem­ber 1933, four months after George Spicer’s mon­ster sight­ing. Mar­maduke Wetherell paces the lake’s rocky shore, intent­ly look­ing out over the water and inspect­ing the ground beneath him for any evi­dence of the fabled Loch Ness mon­ster. In recent weeks, excite­ment over the beast has reached a fever pitch.

Eager to cap­i­tal­ize on the moment, the Dai­ly Mail com­mis­sioned Wetherell, a well-known actor and big-game hunter, to track down the crea­ture. For the past sev­er­al days, Wetherell has been at Loch Ness, hunt­ing for any evi­dence of the beast­’s exis­tence. So far he’s come up emp­ty-hand­ed, but today Wetherell hopes that will change.

Wetherell ven­tures far­ther from the water’s edge, walk­ing toward the grassy banks. As he does, some­thing catch­es his eye. Just a few yards from where he stands, Wetherell sees an inden­ta­tion in the ground.

Wetherell approach­es the strange pat­tern, care­ful not to step on what looks like a series of ani­mal prints. Wetherel­l’s heart soars as he inspects them clos­er. To his expe­ri­enced eye, the prints appear big enough to have come from a very pow­er­ful, soft-foot­ed ani­mal 20 feet long.

Wetherell fol­lows the prints that lead him right to the water. He smiles, know­ing that this is the evi­dence he’s been look­ing for. Wetherell rush­es to find a phone and report his dis­cov­ery to the Dai­ly Mail, which pub­lish­es Wetherel­l’s report with the head­line read­ing, Mon­ster of Loch Ness is not leg­end but a fact.

Wetherell claims the prints are fool­proof evi­dence of the Loch Ness mon­ster’s exis­tence. But at the Dai­ly Mail’s request, Wetherell agrees to send casts of the foot­prints to Lon­don’s Nat­ur­al His­to­ry Muse­um for analy­sis. Wetherell waits in antic­i­pa­tion for the muse­um’s conclusion.

But when the results come in, Wetherell is dev­as­tat­ed. The prints he so metic­u­lous­ly cast­ed belong to a hip­popota­mus. Obvi­ous­ly, Wetherell knows there’s no hip­po liv­ing in the Loch.

It’s clear some­one is pulling a prank. And indeed, the prints were man-made, like­ly by a hip­po foot con­vert­ed into an umbrel­la stand or ash­tray, a pop­u­lar taxi­dermy choice of the day. Against Wetherel­l’s wish­es, the Dai­ly Mail will pub­lish the muse­um’s find­ings, turn­ing Wetherell into a sub­ject of ridicule.

And his misiden­ti­fi­ca­tion will sul­ly the inves­ti­ga­tion of the Loch Ness mon­ster. Sight­ings will be viewed with skep­ti­cism and quick­ly dis­missed as hoax­es or opti­cal illu­sions. Before long, Wetherell will return to Lon­don in disgrace.

And utter­ly humil­i­at­ed, he will retreat from pub­lic view. But Wetherell won’t give up his search for a Loch Ness mon­ster. Instead, he will hatch a new plan and put into motion a plot to prove the exis­tence of the Loch Ness mon­ster once and for all.

We’ll be right back after a quick word from my adver­tis­ers. It’s April 1934 in Lon­don, four months after the Dai­ly Mail pub­lished the results of Wetherel­l’s embar­rass­ing mix-up. Inside his liv­ing room, Wetherell and his two sons hud­dle around a toy submarine.

But they’re not play­ing a game. They’re plot­ting the best way to make this toy look like the Loch Ness mon­ster in a staged pho­to­graph. Wetherell stares at the small toy and smiles, rev­el­ing in the absur­di­ty of his plan and the thrill of pos­si­ble revenge.

The hip­po foot fias­co left an indeli­ble stain upon Wetherel­l’s rep­u­ta­tion as a big game hunter. After the Dai­ly Mail pub­lished his embar­rass­ing mis­take, Wetherel­l’s resent­ment toward the pub­li­ca­tion grew into a thirst for revenge. Now the time has come for Wetherell to exe­cute it.

Wetherell watch­es as his son Ian begins lay­er­ing wood over the toy sub­marine’s tow­er. Slow­ly, Wetherell rec­og­nizes the shape of a neck begin­ning to take form. Wetherell nods approv­ing, before help­ing his step­son Chris­t­ian attach strips of lead to the sub­marine’s base.

Wetherell finds a paint­brush and opens a can of gray paint, ready to put the fin­ish­ing touch­es on their cre­ation. Wetherell stands back to exam­ine their hand­i­work and smiles at their 12-inch tall mod­el of the fabled Loch Ness mon­ster. Wetherell turns to his sons and sneers, they want a mon­ster? We’ll give them their monster.

Soon Wetherell returns to Loch Ness with his son Ian and their new­ly craft­ed crea­ture. He finds a qui­et bay and then lays the makeshift mon­ster on its sur­face, mak­ing sure to include the scenery of Loch Ness in the back­ground. Sat­is­fied with its posi­tion, Wetherell sets up a cam­era and snaps a pho­to of the monster.

Wetherell pre­pares to take anoth­er pho­to, but the sound of near­by foot­steps deters him. Quick­ly, Wetherell sinks his mod­el into the water and rush­es back to his car. As he dri­ves back to Lon­don, Wetherell pon­ders how to get his pho­to devel­oped and out onto the front page of the Dai­ly Mail.

He knows he can’t do it him­self, not after the hip­po foot fias­co. He needs some­one else, some­one respectable and cred­i­ble. It’s the morn­ing of April 21st, 1934, at the Dai­ly Mail’s head­quar­ters in London.

At his desk, a reporter inspects the front page of the day’s paper. Tak­ing up most of the page is an image of a long ser­pent-like neck jut­ting out of the water of a lake, under­neath a head­line that screams Lon­don Sur­geon’s Pho­to of the Mon­ster. The reporter smiles, know­ing sales will be good today.

The pho­to came to the Dai­ly Mail from Dr. Robert Wil­son, a high­ly respect­ed Lon­don sur­geon. Wil­son claimed to have been dri­ving along the north­ern shore of Loch Ness when he spot­ted some­thing mov­ing in the water. With a cam­era luck­i­ly on hand, Wil­son stopped his car to snap a pho­to of the mys­te­ri­ous animal.

The reporter picks up the paper again, close­ly inspect­ing the dark sil­hou­ette of the mys­te­ri­ous crea­ture. He knows this pho­to cor­rob­o­rates the descrip­tion of the mon­ster giv­en by the many alleged wit­ness­es over the years. But after the hip­po foot inci­dent, doubt still lingers in his head.

Still, the reporter knows they did their due dili­gence ear­ly this time. The Dai­ly Mail already had Scot­tish experts exam­ine the pho­to­graph yes­ter­day. None believed the crea­ture to be any marine ani­mal or fish known to inhab­it British waters.

In fact, they could­n’t haz­ard a guess as to what the ani­mal could be. Plus, Dr. Wil­son, a respect­ed sur­geon, hard­ly seems like a man to be par­ty to some elab­o­rate hoax. Still, the reporter does not know the answer to the ques­tion in the sto­ry’s sub­head­ing, Does Mon­ster Real­ly Exist? For many, the sur­geon’s pho­to­graph, as it will come to be known, is irrefutable evi­dence of the Loch Ness mon­ster’s existence.

The pho­to will even launch the pop­u­lar the­o­ry that the crea­ture in Loch Ness is actu­al­ly a ple­siosaur, a pre­his­toric marine rep­tile that has been extinct for over 65 mil­lion years. And for decades, the pho­to will be con­sid­ered the best evi­dence of the Loch Ness mon­ster. But then, in 1994, 60 years after the pho­to’s first pub­li­ca­tion, a man named Alis­tair Boyd will unveil the truth, reveal­ing the pho­to­graph as noth­ing more than anoth­er hoax.

We’ll be right back after a quick word from my adver­tis­ers. Boyd is a retired art teacher, but has researched the Loch Ness ever since he spot­ted the large ani­mal in the lake 15 years ago. For years, Boyd has sought evi­dence to cor­rob­o­rate what he thinks he saw that day.

And for years, the sur­geon’s pho­to­graph was the most con­vinc­ing evi­dence that Boyd and oth­ers were not just imag­in­ing things. Though Ian’s inter­view, rebut­ting the valid­i­ty of the pho­to­graph, was released almost two decades pri­or, the arti­cle nev­er gained much trac­tion. But as Boyd reads and rereads Ian Wetherel­l’s claims, he’s struck by the feel­ing that the media missed a major sto­ry, that the famous pho­to­graph may indeed be fraudulent.

Boyd decides to inves­ti­gate fur­ther. Ian Wetherell is deceased, so Boyd tracks down Ian’s step­broth­er, Chris­t­ian Sper­ling, and dri­ves down to the south of Eng­land to meet him. Now 93 years old and near death, Chris­t­ian con­fess­es his step­dad’s elab­o­rate ploy to get revenge on the Dai­ly Mail.

And dur­ing their inter­view, Boyd makes one more dis­cov­ery, a sus­pi­cious Wetherell fam­i­ly heir­loom, an ash­tray with a stuffed hip­po foot at its base. Whether Mar­maduke Wetherell made the prints at Loch Ness him­self is unclear, but a few months after meet­ing with Chris­t­ian Sper­ling, Boyd will reveal to the media that the sur­geon’s pho­to­graph was a hoax. But far from becom­ing one of the leg­end’s biggest detrac­tors, Aleis­ter Boyd will remain a stal­wart sup­port­er of the exis­tence of the Loch Ness mon­ster, and he will not be alone in his conviction.

Mar­maduke Wetherel­l’s decep­tion will not spell the end for the leg­end of the Loch Ness mon­ster. The mythol­o­gy of the mon­ster, as well as the hunt for its exis­tence, will endure, cap­ti­vat­ing audi­ences long after the Dai­ly Mail first cap­tured the world’s atten­tion with its infa­mous pho­to­graph, pub­lished on April 21st, 1934. Next, on His­to­ry Dai­ly, April 22nd, 1993.

While wait­ing for a bus, 18-year-old Stephen Lawrence is mur­dered in a racial­ly moti­vat­ed attack that changes Britain for­ev­er. From Nois­er & Air­ship, this is His­to­ry Dai­ly. Host­ed, edit­ed, and exec­u­tive pro­duced by me, Lind­sey Graham.

Audio edit­ing and sound design by Mol­ly Baum. Music by Lind­sey Gra­ham. This episode is writ­ten and researched by Alexan­dra Cur­ry Buckner.

Exec­u­tive pro­duc­ers are Stephen Wal­ters for Air­ship and Pas­cal Hugh­es from Nois­er. I hope you enjoyed today’s episode, brought to you from His­to­ry Dai­ly. Again, be sure to check them out.

There will be a link in our show notes, as well as at MathScienceHistory.com. And you can find His­to­ry Dai­ly on your favorite pod­cast plat­form. Stay tuned for next week with a spe­cial episode on Erwin Schro­ding­er’s vaca­tion and how it tran­spired into one of his great­est dis­cov­er­ies. Thank you for tun­ing in to Math Sci­ence History.

If you enjoyed today’s episode, please leave a quick rat­ing and review. They real­ly help the pod­cast. You can find our tran­scripts at MathScienceHistory.com. And while you’re there, remem­ber to click on that cof­fee but­ton, because every dol­lar you donate sup­ports a por­tion of our pro­duc­tion costs and keeps our edu­ca­tion­al web­site free.

Again, thank you for tun­ing in, and until next time, carpe diem.

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