Scorpio Rewilded: 4 Totem Animals of the Fixed Water Sign

The wheel of the year and the wheel of the zodiac are turning once again. The Sun has now ingressed into the sign of Scorpio, and the Celtic festival of Samhain approaches. Samhain is the predecessor of our modern Hallowe’en celebrations, although it is still celebrated by many of us in the Celtic pagan communities today; the name means ‘Summer’s end’ in Irish, and it marks the closing of the harvest season and the coming of Winter. So it is that we now find ourselves gently cloaked more often than not by moody skies, darkening days and soft red carpets of fallen leaves.

This article is the eighth in the Rewilding the Zodiac series, and this time our focus is upon the sign of Scorpio, traditionally symbolised by the scorpion. As always, we will begin with a look at Scorpio’s place in the Zodiac wheel and its seasonal significance, before engaging deeply with a collection of animals who live and breath the ways of this sign. 

If you’re new to my work and/or these writings, let me quickly catch you up: the idea behind this project is to temporarily bring the stars we study in astrological practice down to earth by inviting the animal spirit to take its rightful place within the Zodiac circle. The word Zodiac means ‘circle of animals’, and through study of the creatures that embody the zodiacal archetypes, we can come to know better both the meanings of the stars themselves, and the flesh and blood kin with whom we share our precious Earth. Through this work, my hope is that we can begin to understand our own birth charts as ecosystems of interconnected living energies, whilst also reclaiming at least a little something of humanity’s lost connection with nature.

Rewilding the Zodiac is an attempt not just to understand the stars by seeing them reflected in life upon the Earth, but to reconnect us with the Earth through our love of the stars. And somewhere along the way, I hope it can also reconnect us with a forgotten part of our own selves, too.

Scorpio: Where the Sunlight Cannot Reach

As alluded to in the introduction, the time of year that we attribute to Scorpio (typically 22nd/23rd October to 21st/22nd November) coincides with the first inkling that Winter may finally be upon us. The green leaves of Summer are fading and falling as the trees begin their descent into their long winter slumber, and many species of flora and fauna are preparing to join them in hibernation. Mother Nature is cosying up beneath the soil, ready for her season of dormancy, and the leaf-fall which blankets her will soon be digested and composted by busy communities of fungi, worms, insects and micro-organisms who work to return essential nutrients to the soil. This is the season of death, decay and, ultimately, regeneration.

As well as marking the yearly symbolic death of nature, the aforementioned Samhain festivities also honour the deceased, and we can assume that this is likely no mere coincidence. This is the time of year when the veil between this world and the Otherworld is thought to be at its thinnest, and the souls of those who have passed on may be remembered, communed with and even welcomed in feasts at our tables. Furthermore, it’s sentiment that we can also find echoed in other cultural traditions, such as the Christian All Hallows Eve and the Mexican Día de los Muertos (the Day of the Dead).

Like all of the signs that we have examined up to this point in this Rewilding the Zodiac project, Scorpio draws its symbolism from its position in the wheel and its place within the agricultural year. It is consequently often associated with death and the Underworld, as well as with shadows and dark places. As the fixed water sign, we might liken Scorpio to a deep underground well or submerged cave - somewhere where the water is still and black, perhaps home to strange and unfamiliar creatures that thrive in the places where the sunlight cannot reach. 

This is to say that, those with a lot of Scorpio in their natal charts are not afraid of the unknown, or of getting their hands dirty - and their minds, for that matter. They are extremely resilient and will happily undertake the kinds of work that makes others feel uncomfortable, being (in my experience) often well-suited to pursuits such as shadow work, trauma counselling or even forensic/criminal psychology.

Unlike the signs before it in the zodiac wheel, Scorpio has two ruling planets, both of which are revealing of its nature in this regard. Traditionally, the sign is ruled by Mars, the planet named for the Roman god of war, whilst its modern ruler is Pluto, named after the Roman lord of the Underworld. Thus Scorpio is passionate, determined and ambitious, but also can be secretive, brooding and deeply intuitive. Like its fellow water signs, it feels deeply and can be very empathic, but it often comes armed with a curiosity about all things taboo and macabre, and tend to play its cards somewhat closer to its chest. This, coupled with their deep intensity, gives Scorpios an air of the mysterious which some will inevitably find intimidating, unsettling or simply just a bit ‘too much’.

Totem Animals of Scorpio

The Scorpion

The scorpion that we know as Scorpio has its origins in the story of the giant Orion in Greek mythology. As with most Greek myths, there is more than one version of the tale, but the most well known - as told by Hesiod - is the one from which the zodiac sign derives its meanings. Orion is of course famous for his prowess as a huntsman, and the story goes that whilst he was in Crete hunting with Artemis and Leto, he boastfully threatened that he could kill every living thing on Earth. Understandably, this greatly angered Gaia, the primordial goddess of the Earth, and so she called upon the great scorpion Scorpius to slay the hunter. Despite Orion’s certainty that he could kill anything that the Earth created, Scorpius stung Orion with his tail and the hunter was to perish. Zeus then honoured both Orion and Scorpius by placing them amongst the stars, but in such a way that the two adversaries would never been seen in the sky at the same time. For this reason, Orion will always set in the western sky as Scorpio rises in the east - a celestial phenomenon which is extremely symbolic in itself.

It has been said that one reason for Scorpius’ placement in the heavens was as a warning to mankind to never be too self confident, for it can lead to one’s downfall. Power - either the seeking or corruption of - can be one of the shadows of this Mars and Pluto ruled sign, and the sign of the scorpion may be seen as a reminder that we should be mindful of our own power and how we use it.

The Scorpius constellation also acts as a reminder to never trust too fully in the certainty of anything, and those with strong Scorpio in their charts are often also well-known for their suspicious or skeptical nature. Scorpio searches for the truth, no matter how unpleasant the search or the results might be, and tends not to take anything at face value. As the fixed water sign, Scorpio knows better than most that still waters run dark and deep, and many unseen things can be obscured within the depths. In other words, things are not always as they seem.

We can also apply this to the scorpion as a creature in its own right. Although Scorpius himself was said to be a scorpion of giant size, as a rule of thumb the most lethal scorpions in the natural world are actually the smallest ones. This is an evolutionary trade off; the biggest scorpions are stronger and have larger, more powerful pincers, meaning they are not so reliant on venom to disable prey and deter predators. On the other hand, those who are smaller and more delicate tend to have more slender pincers without the same crushing power, and so they need fast-acting and potent venom to compensate for that which they lack in physical strength. Without knowing this, from the human perspective we might be inclined to assume that the larger scorpion is the more dangerous; thus the scorpion is an apt reminder that things are not always as they first appear to be.

This brings us to something else that the scorpion reveals to us about Scorpio, which is the subtlety of its presence, and for want of a better word, its sneakiness! We often do not see the smallest Scorpion underfoot until we’re already stung, and Scorpio likewise is often skilled at moving with strategy and silent tact. Outwardly, this sign can appear intense, broody and sometimes obsessive, but it is also perhaps one of the best secret keepers, and its true intentions and motivations may be well concealed… at least until it wants us to know them.

Finally, Scorpions are mostly nocturnal, and tend to reside during daylight hours in cracks or under rocks, in dark damp places. We can see this as a symbolic reflection of Scorpio’s affinity for things that are metaphorically dark or shadowy, and its association with shadow work and the Underworld. Like Scorpio, scorpions are remarkably resilient, tolerating extremes of heat and environments that other animals could not - including being capable of residing up to half a mile underground! This also speaks to us of the need to face our own darkness and trauma - to willingly visit our own personal hell and embark upon our own Underworld journey - so that when we are ready, we can step out into the light better off for the work that we have done in the dark. 

The Owl

To reveal some other animals which also embody the way of Scorpio, as always we will next look to the deities of Scorpio’s ruling planets, Mars and Pluto. There is one animal in particular which was held in reverence by both of their Greek counterparts, Ares and Hades, and that is the owl. In particular, it seems the Barn Owl and the Eagle Owl are sacred to Ares, whilst the Screech Owl is said to be sacred to Hades.

Owls are often said to be birds of ill omen - something I have always felt to be a rather unfair designation, but it is easy to understand where this comes from. Like Scorpio’s traditional animal, the scorpion, their prowess in the dark of night has given them an association with the mysterious and the unknown, and more specifically with death. Barn and Eagle owls were sacred to Ares as they were believed to forewarn of war and sedition, and in this way they reflect the more combative and rebellious side of Scorpio. Meanwhile, many sources cite the Screech Owl as sacred to Hades, seemingly because of the eerie and haunting cry for which it gets its name, which was said to foretell of death. That said, however, it is interesting to note that true Screech Owls are actually native to the Americas, and so the origins of this association may therefore be a product of a breakdown in translation; the Greek word used was stryx, meaning “screecher”, but it is much more probable to have originally been a reference to the Barn Owl or Eagle Owl, or possibly even the Tawny, all of whom are capable of emitting loud, unsettling shrieks.

The owl’s connection with death however is not always a negative one. In Celtic tradition, the owl is sacred to the Goddess in her Crone aspect, and one of its Gaelic names is Cailleach-oidhche which means ‘Crone of the Night’. The Cailleach is the goddess who presides over death, and the call of the owl was still considered an omen that someone was about to die, but the owl itself in this instance held the role of psychopomp - calling for the soul when its time had arrived, and carrying it away safely to the Otherworld. In addition, there is also a rather lovely Swiss belief that the owl’s call also foretells of the birth of a child. If we bring these two ideas together, we are left with the owl as a symbol of both death and rebirth, and a powerful ally in our own dealings with death, whether they be literal death or otherwise.

Owls generally have also long been considered symbols of esoteric wisdom, intuition and secrecy - another reason why they were connected with the wise old Crone who has all of life’s experience behind her. As nocturnal birds of prey, they are exceptionally sensitive to their surroundings and were believed to have access to knowledge that evaded most humans. Even in the dark, no movement or sound escapes their senses; their eyesight is as piercing as the scorpion’s tail, and they miss nothing in their patient watchfulness. This is reflective of watery Scorpio’s deeply intuitive nature, as well as its perceptiveness. Scorpio people can be astute investigators when one considers their sensitivity, their determination and their willingness to pry into dark places. Not much gets past a Scorpio!

The owl is also a master of concealment. It is very rare to see a wild one in the flesh, somewhat akin to the scorpion. They are extremely well camouflaged, and if you have ever witnessed an owl take flight, then you may well have marvelled at the silence with which they do so. This ability makes them one of the ultimate stealth predators, and so the owl also makes an apt guide to call upon when we find ourselves needing to embrace Scorpio’s subtlety and secrecy.

The Vulture

Our third Scorpio totem animal is also associated with one of Scorpio’s rulers. This is the vulture, who is said to be one of the birds of Ares, the Greek god of war. The Greek mythographer Antoninus Liberalis wrote in the 2nd century CE that one of Ares’ great grandsons was turned into a vulture. His name was Agrios, and he and his twin brother Oreios were cannibalistic half-bear giants who “honoured neither god nor man but scorned them all”. Zeus sent Hermes to brutally punish them, but Ares himself intervened and instead had Hermes help him turn them into birds. “Oreios became an eagle owl, a bird that presages little good to anyone when it appears. Argios was changed into a vulture, the bird most detested by gods and men.” 

The vulture, not unlike the owl then in some ways, is a bird with not-so-favourable associations, although it is probably fair to say that the vulture’s negative connotations are somewhat more universal than the owl’s. This is probably because they are more or less the only land dwelling vertebrate that relies almost exclusively on carrion to survive. Whilst there are many species of carrion birds - buzzards and members of the corvid family being our most familiar here in the UK - the rest of them hunt or eat plants to supplement their diet. Vultures do not, and thus are highly adapted to a life of scavenging. They can detect a decaying body from several miles away, depending on weather conditions and the size of the carcass, and will consume large amounts of meat at speed, leaving nothing behind but bones… and some specialised species will even eat those too!

Admittedly, the vulture does not seem to be prominently discussed as a sacred symbol of Ares, but their frequent presence in the aftermath of battlefields and trailing after marching armies has almost certainly contributed to their enduring connection with the Greek war god. Indeed, Western and Biblical traditions still view vultures as harbingers of doom and desolation, associating them with death and bloodshed. But if we look at the bigger picture of the vulture's role in nature, we can come to see this bird of ill omen in a rather different light.

Vultures, in essence, are Mother Nature’s very own housekeepers. As well as the simple benefit of how quickly they will clear away rotting organic matter (up to four times faster than a carcass would decay by itself), many people don’t realise that their highly acidic stomachs can actually sterilise rotting meat and destroy lethal pathogens. This makes them essential in controlling the spread of fatal and highly contagious diseases. In this way, they become symbolic of purification and renewal, recycling that which is no longer useful into life-sustaining nutrients and energy.

We could argue at this stage that this actually makes the vulture better suited as a bird of Hades, lord of the Underworld, rather than Ares, for it very much connects us with the more Plutonic side of Scorpio if we will allow it. As a totem animal or spirit guide, the vulture can assist us in engaging honestly and openly with the things that we would rather not look at. She will lead us into our own personal underworld, where the shadows of shame, trauma, addiction and crisis are cast long, and she will ask us to face what we find there.

It is important to remember here one of the vultures most important traits: the vulture does not end life. Instead, she recognises when a life has already ended, just as we must recognise when something in our life is no longer serving a purpose.

We can learn a Scorpionic resilience from the vulture’s strong stomach, for the lesson of the vulture is that even the most unpalatable truths can be metaphorically digested. Vulture will not ask us to dress up the allegorical corpses that we find in our underworld to turn them into something they are not; rather, she will invite us to recognise them for what they are, and to do the work of clearing them away. Then from the bones that remain, something new may be crafted. Unfortunately, there are no shortcuts or cheat-sheets when it comes to this kind of work, and perhaps this makes the vulture a rather unforgiving spiritual ally. But this process is necessary if we are to prevent that which is symbolically rotten in ourselves from poisoning the rest of our lives. 

Finally, vulture does not promise that this personal underworld journey will be dignified, or that the outcome will look noble, but she does promise that it will be worth it when we emerge again into the light.  

The Vampire Squid

For our final totem animal, we must venture to a particularly Scorpio-appropriate place - the deep ocean. There are many deep sea creatures I could have chosen to take up this last place on the Scorpio shortlist but, after a fair bit of research, it was the vampire squid who suited this role better than pretty much anyone else. 

Even just simply the name of the vampire squid is rather Scorpionic, and not just because it includes the word ‘vampire’ - a mythical being famous for dwelling in the shadows and indulging in somewhat nefarious activities! In truth, the vampire squid is not actually a squid at all; rather, it is the only living species of a family of cephalopods called Vampyroteuthidae. Its name means it is frequently misclassified and misunderstood, for even at first hearing about this mysterious underwater creature we are already deceived! Thus immediately, the vampire squid speaks to us of Scorpio’s secrecy and either its capacity to be quietly deceptive, or its potential to be misconceived. That is not to say that all Scorpios are intentionally dishonest, of course, but the ability to mislead and manipulate can certainly be one of the shadows of this sign, and something that we must be mindful of.

Despite its menacing name, the vampire squid is actually quite small and relatively gentle. Their bodies do not often grow larger than about 30 centimetres, and they are the only cephalopod species which do not primarily feed on live prey. Some larger adults will occasionally consume fish, crustaceans or jellyfish, but generally speaking the vampire squid spends its time quietly drifting in the darkness, scavenging on dead and decaying organic matter that has descended from the waters above (fun fact: it’s called marine snow!).

If all of this is starting to sound somewhat familiar, that’s because in this respect the vampire squid is symbolically pretty similar to the vulture, and like the vulture the vampire squid can bring us into relationship with the unsavoury things in our lives which we might prefer not to acknowledge, much less deal with. I won’t go into all of that again (so I recommend going back and reading about the vulture if you skipped ahead for any reason), but I will add that in the case of the vampire squid, their delightful diet includes rotting faecal matter. Whilst reading that probably made you cringe, it is particular relevant in relation to this discussion, because in medical astrology Scorpio actually rules the eliminative systems of the body. The vampire squid thus can be considered as reminding us of the importance of clearing out from our bodies and our lives that which perhaps once was valuable or useful, but which has served its purpose and is now no longer needed at best, or harmful at worst.

As alluded to at the beginning of this segment, even the home of the vampire squid is Scorpionic in nature. Vampire squid dwell at depths from about 600 metres up to 3000 metres below, and it is a place where not many beings can happily survive, let alone thrive. For context, what we commonly call the ‘twilight zone’ of the ocean lies at depths between approximately 200 metres and 1000 metres. At this point, the reach of the sun’s light is minimal. From 1000 metres onwards, we find ourselves in the ‘midnight zone’, surrounded by nothing but perpetual blackness. Oxygen levels here are minimal, and the crushing weight of the water above requires specific evolutionary adaptations to cope with. Thus the vampire squid resides in an extremely high pressure environment - pun not intended - which requires them to be exceptionally resilient and resourceful if they are to survive. Working with the vampire squid can therefore help us to find these Scorpionic qualities within our own beings when we find ourselves in situations of extreme pressure, whether they be mundane or spiritual in circumstance.

One of the vampire squid’s most impressive adaptations is its eyes, which in terms of proportion to its body are the largest of any known living animal, and mean they are able to see even in the darkest depths. Additionally, like many of their deep sea fellows, they can also create bioluminescence, using a light-emitting organ at the end of each of their arms which produces a bright blue light. Although the function of the latter is probably more likely to be for confusing and evading predators lurking in the deep (along with their ability to release clouds of glowing mucous), the vampire squid brings a light to dark places, and so may be a valuable guide for helping us to find our own way through the darkest nights of our soul. 

Final Thoughts

As a Scorpio Rising, I’ve been looking forward to writing this one since I began this project at the beginning of this year. And as usual, it hasn’t turned out at all how I anticipated. In particular, I expected to struggle with writing about the vulture; she was already hovering in my awareness as a possible Scorpio totem, having made herself known to me way back when I was researching sacred animals of Mars/Ares for Aries Rewilded. But ever since then I have been wondering how on Earth I could make a creature viewed so commonly with distaste sound like a positive choice of a totem animal. As it was though, I found myself enthralled by her, and the task turned out to be very easy. So much so that, if you asked me to pick just one Scorpio totem right now, I’d be struggling to choose between her and the vampire squid, who was an unexpected last minute addition and who also revealed himself to be rather fascinating. 

If you are reading this as a person with a Scorpio-rich chart, I hope that my choices of totem animals does not leave you disappointed. Many of these animals are sadly not well-loved - the owl is perhaps the only exception to this, depending on your viewpoint - but I believe an important lesson has revealed itself about Scorpio because of this. The more I learnt about each of these creatures throughout the process of bringing this article together, the more I loved each of them for their uniqueness and the importance of the roles they inhabit (both in nature and in a spiritual sense). Scorpio people are frequently misunderstood because their intensity and their mystery masks the usually good, honest and loyal intentions under the surface; and in the same way, our Scorpio totems are often disliked for what is outwardly apparent, without an appreciation of the reality that lies beneath.

I’ll be curious to know which one of these Scorpio totems speaks to you the most, or whether you have found yourself thinking of another creature who embodies the ways of Scorpio and calls to you more. As always, you can let me know in the comments.

Finally, I hope you’ve enjoyed this little voyage into the Zodiac’s underworld as much as I have. If so, please do consider subscribing to my newsletter or my Substack if you haven’t already, and take a look back through the blog if you’d like to catch up on my previous ‘rewildings’ of Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo and Libra. And if you know of someone else who loves the Earth and the stars in equal measure, please do consider sharing this article and the Rewilding the Zodiac project with them. This is very much my heart project, so your being here means more than you know.

Samhain blessings and a happy Hallowe’en to you, friend!

With love and magic, 

Merry x