The Rollrights being Entity 2009

What would it truly take to convince the world that paranormal entities might be moving through hidden realms, sharing the same earthly space as you and me? Why are we so quick to dismiss what we capture on camera, or to ridicule anything that defies easy explanation? Why do we seem almost determined to destroy or ignore evidence of life beyond our comprehension?
Humanity often appears more comfortable clinging to mystery—or perhaps to a kind of cosmic selfishness—insisting that we are the only form of intelligence in existence. But does the idea unsettle you, even slightly, that other beings may walk this earth alongside us, or visit whenever they choose? And if they have adapted to coexist within our world, isn’t that a question worth exploring for anyone willing to acknowledge such possibilities?

Image Lucy Pringle (c) 2009

Back in 2009, I was given access to a set of raw images and data from Andrew Pyrka, who at that time remained a firm believer that crop circles were created by forces beyond human understanding. Andrew had earned the trust of the Crop Circle Connector, who would alert him the moment a new formation appeared so he could document it first hand.
It was early evening on Monday, the 3rd of August, when Andrew received a text from Mark Fussell. A new crop circle had been reported—only a few miles from Andrew’s home near the Rollright Stones, not far from Stow‑on‑the‑Wold. Within minutes, Andrew, his wife, and their two young children were on their way. They arrived just after 6 p.m., greeted by heavy cloud cover that cast a dull, muted light across the landscape—far from ideal conditions for photography.
From the moment you stepped into the Rollright site, you could just make out the formation from the stone circle itself. Andrew wasted no time. He assembled his camera onto his trusted long painter’s pole—a makeshift but reliable setup. The process, however, was far from perfect: set the timer, raise the flexible pole skyward, steady it before the shutter fired, hope for the best. It was a hit‑and‑miss operation, requiring dozens of attempts just to secure a handful of usable shots.

While his wife and children wandered through the formation, Andrew began taking a series of photographs. “We’d been there no more than fifteen minutes,” he recalled, “when something black darted across one of the circles and stopped at the edge. I wanted to go straight over, but I didn’t want to spook it. So I angled the camera downward into the circle and took the shot.”

After reviewing the first image, Andrew initially saw nothing more than a dark smudge. It was clearly not a cat or any familiar animal. But when he adjusted the brightness on the camera screen, something far more intriguing began to take shape. He walked slowly toward the circle, hoping to spot it again, but there was nothing—no movement, no figure, not even the dark patch that appeared in the photograph.
Setting the moment aside for the time being, he continued documenting the formation. A light drizzle began to fall, making it even more urgent to capture as many shots as possible before the weather closed in. They were just about ready to pack up when Andrew decided to take a final handful of photographs.
As he raised the camera on the pole, something caught his eye. “I saw something moving from one circle to another,” he said later. “It looked like it was gliding smoothly across the wheat on some kind of machinery, not walking. I just froze, staring into the distance, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.”
Whatever it was, it stopped—and turned its head.
It was one of those pure WTF moments that rooted Andrew to the spot. For a few seconds, he forgot he even had a camera. When the shock loosened its grip, he lifted the pole and fired off a shot. He checked the screen immediately—blurry, but the figure was still there. He took another. This time, the image was clearer. Not perfect, but unmistakably capturing something.
Andrew looked back toward the being. It felt almost like a moment of acknowledgement—I’ve seen you, and you’ve seen me. Then, without haste, the figure glided away into a tramline.
Andrew dropped his gear and sprinted to the spot. The being was gone. But the wheat where it had been was warm to the touch, as if some kind of energy had been discharged from whatever craft or device it had been riding.

Photo above - you can just about see a dark patch in the further most circle and almost centre 

Zoomed in Images - showing a being with a large head - dark eyes - appears to be sitting on some gliding craft. Judging by the height of the wheat the being was small - estimated between 2-3ft but definitely no more.

The experience didn’t end there. When they returned to the vehicle, Andrew realised his Bluetooth earpiece was missing. Assuming he’d dropped it in the formation, he went back into the circle to search, but found nothing. His wife then decided to try her luck. She stepped into the first circle—and almost immediately, the missing headset struck her foot, as if it had been tossed toward her by something unseen. She let out a startled gasp, the kind that comes from pure instinct, and sprinted straight back to the car with excitement. 
When she explained what had happened, Andrew examined the device. The headset was intact, but it no longer worked at all—as though its electronics had been completely fried by whatever force had just returned it. The very interesting factor here is that physical items can be handled by unseen/invisible entities  - poltergeist type entity comes to mind.

While his memory was still fresh, Andrew later drew a sketch of what he had seen. 

Unfortunately I seem to have misplaced information on the above ancient artefact (made in Lyddite) that was found amongst many others several years ago, but its the closest resemblance to the Rollrights being that I could find.

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The question at the time was simple: what on earth were we looking at?
Andrew called me almost the moment he walked through his front door.
“Mike, you’ve got to see this,” he said, breathless with excitement.
Still on the phone, he began uploading several images to my inbox. I fired up my ancient Windows 7 PC and waited—painfully slowly—while the full, unedited files downloaded. At first, I struggled to make out what he was describing. But then I zoomed in… and the lightbulb moment hit me square in the face.
My reaction was pure, unfiltered: WTF!
It looked—at first glance—like an alien on a funky scooter. How do you even begin to describe something no one has ever seen before? We laughed about it, but in hindsight, that off‑the‑cuff description was my mistake. After I posted the images on the CropCircleWisdom website, Andrew ended up taking the brunt of the criticism from the online community. Looking back, I should have called it “an alien on some kind of hover seat”—not that it would have made things any easier to explain.
We will probably never know what he captured that day. But one thing I can confirm with absolute certainty is this: the very first thing I check is the digital stamp on any photograph. I always verify whether an image is unedited and genuine, no matter how much I trust the person sending it. The photos Andrew sent me were 100% untouched and authentic.
The point is this—Andrew had an ability to interact with the paranormal. It wasn’t limited to crop circles; it followed him into other parts of his life. So I knew that whatever he photographed at the Rollrights was, in his world, entirely consistent and entirely genuine.
After examining the images again and again, I almost let myself believe he had captured the circle makers themselves. But then reality tugged at my sleeve. I already knew crop circles were created by human artists. For a moment, I was thrown into a genuine quandary—was I really about to believe, all over again, that something non‑human was responsible?
If anything, the Rollrights incident reinforced a theory shared by many who’ve spent years around this phenomenon: human land art seems to attract the paranormal. Why? No one knows. But the pattern is hard to ignore.
As for the Rollrights event—I refuse to let it fade into obscurity. Andrew was ready to tuck it away in a drawer and let history forget it. I told him, firmly, that this would be wrong. He’s now in his sixties, yet he recounts the experience with the same clarity, precision, and emotion as if it happened yesterday. Every detail, every word, unchanged. A crystal‑clear memory.
There are several other events connected to Andrew that deserve to be documented, and in time, I will share them here on this website.

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