tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38100099142566962642024-03-16T13:52:35.676-05:00Texas Cryptid HunterUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger613125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-49950812064904424302023-07-18T15:42:00.003-05:002023-07-18T15:45:05.301-05:00Historical Black Panther Sighting, a Lesson Learned, and a Photo<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">As I mentioned in a post a few weeks ago, I will be making an effort to get caught up on several black panther sightings that were sent in to me over the last year or so. I was neck deep in trying to finish my book, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Valley-Apes-Search-Sasquatch-Area-ebook/dp/B0B5HNXGFC/ref=sr_1_1?crid=59Y8MTSKMOD5&keywords=valley+of+the+apes&qid=1689712485&sprefix=valley+of+the+apes%2Caps%2C114&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Valley of the Apes: The Search for Sasquatch in Area X</a></i>, and struggled to find the time to update all of you on these sightings. I am making the effort to correct that now. Following are a few sighting reports and one photo that I found interesting.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><u style="background-color: #cccccc;">Reported November 20, 2022<o:p></o:p></u></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;">“<span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; color: #1d2228;">My name is Greg XXXXXX and I live in Lexington Tx. Around 1987 I was leaving the Alcoa aluminum plant through the contractor construction gate approximately 5:00 pm. Can’t remember the exact date. I started driving north on Hwy 1786 towards Hwy 79 beside the Alcoa hot lake as it was called where the water from the power plant was released into. Right in front of me approximately 100 feet was a large black panther crossing the road. I got a real good look at him. He was as big as a full-grown mountain lion but appeared to a little thinner in build. I have seen a large mountain lion from my tree stand before while hunting near Milano so I can make the comparison accurately. I would have to guess the panther weighed between 130 and 150 lbs.</span>”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: 0% repeat rgb(204, 204, 204); color: #1d2228;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><b><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; color: #1d2228;">TCH Comment: </span></u></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; color: #1d2228;">This is a very believable and matter-of-fact report. The witness saw the cat clearly at close range and is familiar with what a mountain lion looks like. There are no signs of hyperbole in the report and I have ruled out mistaken identity. I believe this witness saw what he claims to have seen. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: 0% repeat rgb(204, 204, 204); color: #1d2228;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; color: #1d2228;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;">The location of the sighting is rural and there are sufficient resources for a big cat to survive in the area. If one takes the time to zoom in on the sighting location, it becomes obvious water resources are plentiful. This is something that would be absolutely critical for any predator trying to survive in Central Texas. I find the report credible and will be adding it to my <a href="https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=1Rg28MrAN8VRc8CiB_RyWbB19zvp9OL4&usp=sharing" target="_blank">Black Panther Sightings Distribution Map</a>.</span><span style="background-color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: repeat white; color: #1d2228;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hbSyC_qE9qzwgjlMB80N_iHpr2i2SfAR6VCfsYKWSc4c8v-BPtbBLMN4CwgDvl7jji8kPHUhRxpg7p1orGWxpwOj99yfpCRWw8Znj_80GWsGH_ppnhW1YmINk5E5GGnhpdInJj1YSt9hlHLvNMvp6RUb4lCi2DX7UHoe49wiG7IP0vlrYediID81xRAB/s482/Location.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="482" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hbSyC_qE9qzwgjlMB80N_iHpr2i2SfAR6VCfsYKWSc4c8v-BPtbBLMN4CwgDvl7jji8kPHUhRxpg7p1orGWxpwOj99yfpCRWw8Znj_80GWsGH_ppnhW1YmINk5E5GGnhpdInJj1YSt9hlHLvNMvp6RUb4lCi2DX7UHoe49wiG7IP0vlrYediID81xRAB/w400-h355/Location.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: 0% repeat rgb(204, 204, 204); color: #1d2228;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><u><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; color: #1d2228;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;">Reported 6/22/22</span><span style="background-color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><u><span style="background: repeat white; color: #1d2228;"><br /></span></u></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">"<span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #1d2228;">I saw a dead black panther on the right shoulder of the westbound lanes of I44E approximately 5 miles east of the Stroud sign on the Turner turnpike about 6:50pm Sunday, 6/5/2022. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;">A cat is so obvious it cannot be mistaken. I saw the large paws, long legs, square head. It was in a dead pose, legs toward the street and back towards the grass, head facing west. I considered pulling off the road, essentially to gawk, but decided the safety considerations weren't worth the reasons. Had I known then that people don't believe big cat sightings, I would have pulled over. My 10-year-old son saw it too. My step daughter was in the car and she didn't see it, she was looking at her phone. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;">With so many pick-up trucks in Oklahoma, I wonder if someone took it home, or if wildlife management can document it. I wonder if the toll pass cameras record what is in people's truck beds? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;">I haven't followed up with wildlife management, but I am curious if there are others to corroborate.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;">Kathleen XXXXXX<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;">Edmond, Oklahoma<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #1d2228;"><u>TCH Comment:</u> </span></b><span style="color: #1d2228;">I will not be placing this sighting on my distribution map, but it isn’t because I do not believe the witness; rather, it is because she was traveling along the highway at a substantial rate of speed (likely 70-80 mph based on my experience on the Turnpike in question). While her description matches up well with historical reports of black panthers, the chance of misidentification while moving at such a clip is simply too great for me to feel totally confident.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;">The lesson here is to pull that vehicle over and pick that carcass up. If you aren’t comfortable with that, take <i>lots</i> of photos.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #1d2228;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><u><span style="color: #1d2228;">Reported: 6/2/22<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #1d2228;">“</span><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; color: #1d2228;">Hi, my name is Caleb I live in south east Missouri. I just listened to an <i>Expanded Perspectives</i> episode about the black cats in Texas, or something like that, and I just wanted to share my story with you because I’ve had a very close encounter with a panther, a buddy of mine - his dad actually - killed a panther due to it messing with livestock. He actually had the head and pelt for a while. I’ve had other encounters with them while hunting and such but that was the closest that I’ve ever been to one. During the podcast you stated some people say that they have leopard-like spots on them. I can say that I do remember the spots on the pelt of this particular pelt. Let me know if you have any questions. I will try to answer them the best I can. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: 0% repeat rgb(204, 204, 204); color: #1d2228;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background: 0% repeat rgb(204, 204, 204); color: #1d2228;">Thanks for reading."<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: 0% repeat rgb(204, 204, 204); color: #1d2228;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; color: #1d2228;"><u>TCH Comments:</u> </span></b></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; color: #1d2228;">This is another account that I will not be mapping. I have heard multiple accounts of people killing a panther and keeping the pelt. Yet, there are absolutely no photos. Without a picture, this is just hearsay and I don’t feel good about placing the incident on my map. The witness claims other encounters but does not share any details regarding them. This doesn’t mean the witness is being untruthful, just that I don’t have enough details to feel good about adding it to my map.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: 0% repeat rgb(204, 204, 204); color: #1d2228;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; color: #1d2228;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;">I will wrap up this post with a photo sent to me from Mr. Brandon Darr. Brandon felt that the photo illustrated the different shading/coloration individual cougars can exhibit nicely and I agree with him. The only information on the photo itself is that it was allegedly “taken in Northern Mexico.” Since I’m posting it here only to show how different cougars can vary in the shade of their coats, it isn’t really relevant where it was taken.</span><span style="background-color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: repeat white; color: #1d2228;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-converted-space"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg69ionk-4uO0NjDpJAHnBL6zxjW7l5twLLFK4FZ6Nu8UCb2cw9wL9Fc0jTZPcXV2SDDmnx5EogNY-74uw-FdoUSV5Cs3tNxS9k7HtELVXBTzqQCxPMvkY7TXqcpkXv-c_nQnI-JCervGfLvm1Ru7ofEnc4OON7n8whahRHSxjmwpYyJ_803R3X3W5yxKWe/s483/cougs.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="483" height="349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg69ionk-4uO0NjDpJAHnBL6zxjW7l5twLLFK4FZ6Nu8UCb2cw9wL9Fc0jTZPcXV2SDDmnx5EogNY-74uw-FdoUSV5Cs3tNxS9k7HtELVXBTzqQCxPMvkY7TXqcpkXv-c_nQnI-JCervGfLvm1Ru7ofEnc4OON7n8whahRHSxjmwpYyJ_803R3X3W5yxKWe/w400-h349/cougs.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; color: #1d2228;">The cats on the left and in the middle are clearly much darker in coloration that the cat on the right. I would guess the cat on the right is displaying the normal tawny-colored coat we are all used to seeing. The two on the left are much darker, especially on their dorsal surfaces. They are not, however, chocolate-colored or black. We can be sure of this by looking at the contrast in darkness between their backs/the ends of their tails and the rest of their bodies. If they were all black or dark brown, their bodies would be much more uniform in color, like the lighter-colored cougar on the right. Seeing darker-colored cougars in low light conditions could very well explain some black panther sightings.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2228;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: 0% repeat rgb(204, 204, 204); color: #1d2228;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: 0% repeat rgb(204, 204, 204); color: #1d2228;">If you would like to dig deeper into the black panther phenomenon, you might consider picking up a copy of my book, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Cats-Black-Panthers-America/dp/1938398904/ref=sr_1_1?crid=28M7QIIVBRH29&keywords=shadow+cats&qid=1689712236&sprefix=shadow+cats%2Caps%2C117&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Shadow Cats: The Black Panthers of North America</a>. In it, you get a thorough overview of the phenomenon, my thoughts on what these animals might be, interviews with big cat experts, and more. You can pick up a copy at the link above or, if you would like a signed copy, you can contact me at Texascryptidhunter@yahoo.com.</span></span><b> </b></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-69748662613072616072023-07-10T13:46:00.000-05:002023-07-10T13:46:58.209-05:00Was the Tshul'gul' of Cherokee Legend a Sasquatch?<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Long time readers of this blog know that I am an avid amateur folklorist. I can, and often do, spend hours perusing the myths and folklore sections of various libraries near my home in the hopes of finding an undiscovered gem that might somehow connect ancient lore to my cryptozoology interests. Logic dictates that if cryptid creatures like the sasquatch or black panthers really do exist, then the people of long ago should have encountered them. If so, then there should be some sort of record of these encounters. One issue with this line of thinking, however, is that very few of the Native American tribes that inhabited North America in pre-Columbian times had a written language. That doesn’t mean there is no historical record, though, as the stories, myths, legends, and experiences of each tribe were passed from generation to generation via the spoken word. Among the folktales told by these first Americans are stories of encounters with large, hair-covered giants. The fact that these tales have survived by way of oral tradition should in no way lessen their significance as part of the historical record regarding this topic. Today, we will explore a tale from Cherokee folklore.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXRLMlbE1Bt7k14YKY5j6xSNf5K906cPV1IAmggCTPxmYQcEEKsrQCObMq0bWnA2t-3zQw9hqjWhZ4CCnjQwV3odd6YQdz00q_pNTFesqIK8EUiRuOkWvVO5Duof8KFS9g1AT0z96F7wGcuWXbf331D52ggZQCwgJ4EoG9GHz5SP9EjPvP4VjP45QHV0Y/s478/Cherokee%20Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="478" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXRLMlbE1Bt7k14YKY5j6xSNf5K906cPV1IAmggCTPxmYQcEEKsrQCObMq0bWnA2t-3zQw9hqjWhZ4CCnjQwV3odd6YQdz00q_pNTFesqIK8EUiRuOkWvVO5Duof8KFS9g1AT0z96F7wGcuWXbf331D52ggZQCwgJ4EoG9GHz5SP9EjPvP4VjP45QHV0Y/w400-h226/Cherokee%20Map.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma is the largest of three Cherokee branches/tribes recognized by the U.S. government. The members of the Oklahoma-based tribe are descendants of the Old Cherokee Nation who “voluntarily” relocated or who were forced to march west to Indian Territory on the Trail of Tears, due to increased pressure from American settlers in the East. The Oklahoma Cherokees now reside on a vast reservation that spans all <w:sdt id="-1055772325" sdttag="goog_rdk_0"><a></a></w:sdt>(or parts of) fourteen counties. The tribe’s territory includes much of the mountainous eastern border of Oklahoma, a region rich in historical bigfoot sightings and lore. If the sasquatch is, or was, a real animal, then the Cherokee Tribe of Oklahoma should have known about it. The following excerpts from a Cherokee folktale support the idea that these Native Americans were, indeed, familiar with these creatures in the distant past.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Tsunihl’gul’ or Tshul’gul’ was the subject of many Cherokee tales. Cherokee elders described Tshul’gul’ in various ways and related many stories of encounters with this being to folklorists Jack and Anna Kilpatrick. A tribesman named Asudi shared, “He was very wicked…People didn’t want to live near where he was. The older people used to say he would lean on something and that he was very tall. He used to fall over upon people and mash them. Tshul’gul’ did a great many things and was always to be feared.” Asudi went on to share a story told to him by his father, who had learned it from his mother. In the interest of brevity, I will not reprint the entire story here. Instead, I will share excerpts that describe behaviors/characteristics of Tshul’gul’ that alleged sasquatch witnesses in modern times have reported as well. My thoughts on the behaviors/characteristics described will appear in red.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4QDaSuhUBNdJoX5FnfPDMLW9VoYEDPEEZHwoDBv8D_YllzMLzkef02a3VzActh8Rh_4UP2j00WubsMUANi0GZIch-3J1LQPv12vz6ujkNjp_nEzQd-SF0FOKDNLWtIzRv6zuEQUKfz8TDFfBS5j3vHQdYJe6iHJhOL22SjynVBQLNbsK5r5WDV4IH1OXT/s393/Tales.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="393" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4QDaSuhUBNdJoX5FnfPDMLW9VoYEDPEEZHwoDBv8D_YllzMLzkef02a3VzActh8Rh_4UP2j00WubsMUANi0GZIch-3J1LQPv12vz6ujkNjp_nEzQd-SF0FOKDNLWtIzRv6zuEQUKfz8TDFfBS5j3vHQdYJe6iHJhOL22SjynVBQLNbsK5r5WDV4IH1OXT/w400-h314/Tales.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">“It was in the Old Cherokee country where these Tshul’gul’ lived. They were very tall men.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><u><span style="color: red;">TCH Comment</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Nearly all alleged sasquatch witnesses in modern times have described the creature as man-like in appearance and very tall.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">“There was a couple there who had daughters of marriageable age. These daughters had heard many times about these tall, huge Tshul’gul’. These daughters were very desirous of seeing for themselves because they had heard fantastic tales of these tall, huge men. They had heard that these men could pull up large trees with their bare hands alone. That’s what they had heard, and that’s what these young women desired to see.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><u><span style="color: red;">TCH Comment</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Again, the great size of these beings is stressed. Too, their great strength is mentioned. Many alleged sasquatch witnesses report seeing a creature perform a feat of strength that no normal man would be capable of. For example, people have testified to seeing wood apes breaking trees, twisting off thick branches from trees, killing feral hogs with their bare hands, and hurling large boulders.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">“At sunset they would hear a whooping in the west. In the Old Cherokee country there is a great mountain that begins in the east and does not end until it gets to the west. When he (Tshul’gul’) whooped in the west, he whooped four times in traversing that mountain. His whooping ceased when he reached the end of the mountain in the east. At sunset the next evening he began whooping at the east end of the mountain. He whooped as he traversed the mountain and ceased as he reached the west end.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><u><span style="color: red;">TCH Comment</span></u><span><span style="color: red;">: “Whoops” and “whooping” have become synonymous with the sasquatch. I, myself, have heard whoops at close range multiple times in a mountainous area in eastern Oklahoma. On a few of these occasions, the original whoop was answered by another “whooper” secreted in a different location. Countless others have reported hearing these vocalizations as well. Some of these whooping vocalizations have been recorded. Several such recordings made by the NAWAC are available to the public </span><a href="https://www.woodape.org/index.php/catalog-of-recorded-audio/#Multiple_whoops_June_2018" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">here</span></a><span style="color: red;">. To my knowledge, no other animal native to Oklahoma or Arkansas is capable of making this distinctive “whoop” sound.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">“When they got to the top of the mountain, everything was quiet. Then they heard him whoop right behind them, just out of sight, and they heard another noise, sounding ‘Daaast’!’ The noise was as if he was breaking sticks. Then they saw the limbs of trees shaking.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><u><span style="color: red;">TCH Comment</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Many sasquatch researchers and alleged witnesses have reported incidents where they walked in very close proximity to one of these animals without knowing it. The people involved often say something along the lines of, “I’d have never known it was there if it hadn’t…” Behaviors described at that point include growling, grunting, huffing, whooping, the breaking of limbs or sticks, the throwing of a rock or a tree branch, or the violent shaking of trees and other vegetation. It should be noted here that all of these behaviors are textbook examples of intimidation tactics employed by the known great apes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEQXDBwfbfruYaZjqFwZxRNwmazrPmH202y5DL__ohl1wOYTVhXyO6gf3oK_G_CCH1msWda_c_U6DMsuy6SG2H1o8PpdSDygd-kVc-AqT699ZCbrsJ6Z35z2O1AGVfNXjq0CjkzRCz3XvPIWj3PEkY9_kJbdIRqlOItvN4cGnQlO7woWm_04hX_4GY_621/s421/Mountains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="421" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEQXDBwfbfruYaZjqFwZxRNwmazrPmH202y5DL__ohl1wOYTVhXyO6gf3oK_G_CCH1msWda_c_U6DMsuy6SG2H1o8PpdSDygd-kVc-AqT699ZCbrsJ6Z35z2O1AGVfNXjq0CjkzRCz3XvPIWj3PEkY9_kJbdIRqlOItvN4cGnQlO7woWm_04hX_4GY_621/w400-h281/Mountains.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p>“Then they saw the tall man – swaying. While he was swaying, he was knocking over the smaller trees, and that’s what they were hearing. There was a large area where Tshul’gul’ had flattened the trees…The man that they saw there was whooping.”<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><u><span style="color: red;">TCH Comment</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Again, classic intimidation tactics that continue to be reported today are described in this passage. Something else of interest is the observation of the creature swaying. Many alleged witnesses have reported this behavior. Descriptions of an upright animal that shifted its weight from one foot to the other in an agitated or nervous manner, or that peeked from behind one side of a tree and then the other, are easily found in today’s literature. Finally, the report of “flattened” areas could correlate to a nesting area or possible territorial marking. While such features have been located in modern times, the purpose behind them remains the subject of speculation.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">“Then the young women came up and took a look at his face. They saw that he had slanting eyes, and they fled and said, ‘He has slanting eyes!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><u><span style="color: red;">TCH Comment</span></u><span style="color: red;">: While many today might not be comfortable with the term “slanted eyes,” I think it is a key detail that should not be ignored because of perceived political incorrectness. On multiple occasions, historical and modern witnesses have used similar terms to describe the facial features of the sasquatch. I have heard or read accounts where witnesses said the face looked “Asian,” “like a person with Down’s Syndrome,” or “like a mongoloid” due to the appearance of the creature’s eyes. Let’s not throw the baby out with the bath water because we are not comfortable with these descriptions. The fact is, similar characteristics continue to be described today, albeit in gentler and more politically correct terms.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">“In those days, Tshun’gul’ <w:sdt id="1026294827" sdttag="goog_rdk_1"><a></a></w:sdt><w:sdt id="804351647" sdttag="goog_rdk_2"><a></a></w:sdt>were fond of women and would visit them. But when he went to a neighbor’s house, if it were still light, he always turned his back away from the people who lived there. The young women would circle him and try to see his face but he would always turn in another direction…Early in the evening the Tshun’gul’ arrived. When they gave him a chair by the fire, he sat down and turned away from the fire.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><u><span style="color: red;">TCH Comment</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Accounts of the “glowing” or highly reflective nature of the eyes of the sasquatch are well known. In my opinion, that could be the grain of truth hidden in the middle of the account above. Many researchers have documented the eyeshine that these creatures exhibit. Too, many are of the belief that the wood apes themselves are aware that their eyes shine and can give their location away. NAWAC investigators have reported catching the eyeshine of an ape in a flashlight only to have the animal duck its head or turn away from the light source. This could, of course, simply be due to the fact that having a bright light shone in one’s eyes is annoying, but when paired when the observations of others who have claimed to have seen these animals actually cover up their eyes with their own hands when spotlighted, it is an intriguing bit of anecdotal evidence that the wood ape is aware that its eyes strongly reflect light. Perhaps the Cherokee were attempting to explain the behavior of a sasquatch turning away from a light – in this case a fire – in this passage.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5P8sTXxhj_e3Jf75MKBX2L_1fKF5GfNE4GZQzNfyny31LkV3gEDxPg57oVW8dcFfVLkUwrbLNEme6CgNp0djXZOnXuk3eLi7bOe2hUF9Zsn8MeZL_o2LHlxWTlfwRYtLnWU2owedPb953qm3H0ZrPnvouUDquhlPVXX6jlenPz7cMtI6ilteeUsnJRgAu/s385/End%20of%20the%20world.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="385" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5P8sTXxhj_e3Jf75MKBX2L_1fKF5GfNE4GZQzNfyny31LkV3gEDxPg57oVW8dcFfVLkUwrbLNEme6CgNp0djXZOnXuk3eLi7bOe2hUF9Zsn8MeZL_o2LHlxWTlfwRYtLnWU2owedPb953qm3H0ZrPnvouUDquhlPVXX6jlenPz7cMtI6ilteeUsnJRgAu/w400-h319/End%20of%20the%20world.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p>“…God permitted them all to live among people like us (of normal size); but they were always taking all the women and wives away from ordinary-sized men until smaller men were without women…So God declared that this was not the place for Tshun’gul’. God decided to send them all to the west, to the end of the world, and that’s where they live now. Someday they may return, and we will see them, they say.”<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><u><span style="color: red;">TCH Comment</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Tales of sasquatches kidnapping women and children can be found in the folklore of Native American tribes across North America. Some tribes felt the behavior stemmed from the desire of a lonely sasquatch to acquire a mate and companion (wife). Others felt the abductions were more sinister in nature and felt the kidnappings were the work of cannibals. Whichever explanation you prefer, the belief that these creatures occasionally abduct women and children goes back centuries. I find the part of the story where the Tshun’gul’ were banished to “the west, to the end of the world” by God interesting. While it is true that bigfoot sightings continue to take place in and near Cherokee country – and other places across the continent – the unrivaled “Holy Land” of the sasquatch is the Pacific Northwest. Could the Pacific Northwest be “the end of the world” referred to in the folktale? It is interesting to ponder.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">You can read the entire Cherokee folktale that I have cited above in the book, <i>Friends of Thunder: Folktales of the Oklahoma Cherokees</i>, if you would like to fill in some of the gaps in the story. Remember, I focused only on the passages that seemed to directly correlate to behaviors and characteristics of the sasquatch that are still being reported today. Having done that, I believe the correlation between the actions and characteristics of the Tshun’gul’ and those of today’s bigfoot are undeniable. I have no doubt in my mind that the Cherokees of days long past were describing the same animal so many seek today: the sasquatch.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">More soon.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><u>Sources</u>:<o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 28.35pt; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Kilpatrick, J. F., & Kilpatrick, A. G. (Eds.). (1964). Tales of Monsters. In <i>Friends of Thunder: Folktales of the Oklahoma Cherokees</i> (pp. 64–69). essay, Southern Methodist University Press.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 28.35pt; text-indent: -28.35pt;"> <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 28.35pt; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Bureau, U. C. (2023, July 3). Census.gov. <a href="https://www.census.gov/" style="color: #954f72;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">https://www.census.gov/</span></a> <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 28.35pt; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 28.35pt; text-indent: -28.35pt;">ArcGIS web application. (n.d.). <a href="https://vmgis4.cherokee.org/portal/apps/webappviewer/index.html?id=d890e55c04c04c31a658301f9d020521" style="color: #954f72;">https://vmgis4.cherokee.org/portal/apps/webappviewer/index.html?id=d890e55c04c04c31a658301f9d020521</a> <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 28.35pt; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 28.35pt; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Staff, N. (2023, February 22). <i>Cherokee Nation announces 450,000th citizen registration</i>. www.fox23.com. <a href="https://www.fox23.com/news/cherokee-nation-announces-450-000th-citizen-registration/article_f18e96da-b258-11ed-9733-972cafa8db3b.html" style="color: #954f72;">https://www.fox23.com/news/cherokee-nation-announces-450-000th-citizen-registration/article_f18e96da-b258-11ed-9733-972cafa8db3b.html</a> <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 28.35pt; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 28.35pt; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Cleary, C. P. (2023, May 15). <i>The rediscovery of Indian country in eastern Oklahoma</i>. Oklahoma Bar Association. https://www.okbar.org/barjournal/may-2023/the-rediscovery-of-indian-country-in-eastern-oklahoma/#_ednref47 </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-50570298186431755312023-06-27T16:10:00.004-05:002023-06-27T16:10:59.467-05:00Catching Up: Black Panther Reports<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">For the last few years, I have been deeply involved in several writing projects. Hopefully, you are familiar with the result of at least one of those projects (<i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Valley-Apes-Search-Sasquatch-Area/dp/1949501221" target="_blank">Valley of the Apes: The Search for Sasquatch in Area X</a></i>). The process of writing that book was a true labor of love and seeing it published and well received was immensely gratifying. It did, along with other lower profile projects, take a LOT of time. When combined with my regular job of teaching middle school history, my responsibilities as the Chairman of the Board of Directors of the North American Wood Ape Conservancy (NAWAC), and the general stress that comes from life itself, there simply wasn’t much time left over to keep up with the blog (or much of anything else).<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">I have taken steps to simplify my life and create more time to do the things I really enjoy, like writing this blog. The results have been tangible as I have published three posts this month alone (this will be the fourth). I won’t have quite as much time once school starts in the fall but hope to average two posts per month going forward. I still have a lot to say and there are still an awful lot of strange stories to tell. In that vein, let’s move on to the real topic of this post: black panthers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Disclaimer: according to mainstream science, there is no such animal as a “black panther.” The panthers of the movies and television are either melanistic leopards or jaguars. Wildlife authorities do not believe either of these species currently inhabit Texas, the American South, or any other region of the United States or Canada (the exceptions being the states of Arizona and New Mexico, in which a few transient male jaguars have been documented). Still, the reports of large, black, long-tailed cats have continued. Documenting and charting the location of the most credible reports is part of my ongoing effort to answer one simple question: what are the black panthers of North America?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The following is a report that I have had in my files for a while. Now that I have some time, I am going to attempt to catch all of you up on the backlog of reports that have come in to me. This account is a long one, so it will be the only report featured in this post. I have edited the report a bit for length in order to make it a better fit for this blog. Wherever you see an elipse (…) some extra material was omitted for the sake of brevity. I do not believe my having done so changes the critical details of the report. The words you do see are those of the gentleman who forwarded the account to me.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b>Reported January 27, 2022</b><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i>“Hello, Mr. Mayes.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i>“I recently visited the North American Bigfoot Center/Museum in Boring, Oregon. While there, I had the opportunity to purchase a number of books, one of which was your Shadow Cats. I specifically bought this book due to its topic on black panthers in North America…<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i>“…I felt compelled to tell you an accurate and true sighting of a black panther in Idaho. The sighting was at a very close range. The witnesses were my mom and dad. I’ve heard the story a number of times and the facts never change, nor would I expect them to as both of my parents are of the highest ethical standards…<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i>“…The sighting took place in west central Idaho around 2012. The closest town would be Cascade, located of highway 55. My dad retired as a captain with the Payette, Idaho Fire Department and my mom was a long-time real estate agent and later worked in the nursing field… When my parents retired, they spent a great deal of time in a side-by-side ATV taking trips deep into the Idaho back country…One trip…they accessed a road off of highway 55 and headed east on a dirt road…Mom and Dad were in no rush, just sightseeing, having a nice lunch, and enjoying the day…They were traveling west back toward highway 55 when Dad’s attention was drawn to the right side of the road where a black cat was lying…This cat then stood and walked across the road in front of their ATV and slunk into the heavy timber…both of them were essentially speechless…My dad recalled saying that was a black panther and that someone’s pet had to have escaped its enclosure…My dad was well-versed in mountain lions and, in fact, we’ve both had the good fortune to see them in the wild. Both of my parents were positive and adamant that this was not a color phase or a hybrid of a mountain lion but a real black panther. </i><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfSUbmY8EscQ-P4wOhLnri3rfmUFQaazlNr1woULXgEAMRANZv-1DhroDMnJRaCEdqTnBHrO8hFBSOgXBKWdUaMdVuHy4MKxc58UhFOb1wpB2sfjVZ-vfc_uM1NU1dyHBGhWySwEs9SI0G6-6BKc4lQbhOVIvkkxCYr8EU4X8QVVRVm7rW0ir02lh-aLZ/s479/BP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="479" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfSUbmY8EscQ-P4wOhLnri3rfmUFQaazlNr1woULXgEAMRANZv-1DhroDMnJRaCEdqTnBHrO8hFBSOgXBKWdUaMdVuHy4MKxc58UhFOb1wpB2sfjVZ-vfc_uM1NU1dyHBGhWySwEs9SI0G6-6BKc4lQbhOVIvkkxCYr8EU4X8QVVRVm7rW0ir02lh-aLZ/w400-h255/BP.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i>“After several minutes…they were able to re-start down the road. A short distance later, they came upon a couple of…ranch hands. My dad explained to them what they had seen and asked the men if they had any knowledge of panther activity on or around their spread. Dad said the older man’s body language changed and he seemed concerned, leading my mom and dad to think this guy had seen the panther himself or had experienced some livestock loss…prior to my parents leaving, one of the men radioed to the homestead to make sure the women were aware of the sighting and to make sure all of the children were accounted for…<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i>“…I can testify under any oath…that this story is true and correct, a class-A legitimate sighting….my parents did not know there was a following on the topic or that there were even any books written about it. If you are ever inclined to go into this area or even chat up my mom, please feel free to reach out…<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i>L.A. Dove”</i><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b>TCH Comment:</b> While the report lacks much in the way of detail regarding the appearance of the cat itself (approximate weight, length, etc.) the circumstances would seem to rule out a case of misidentification. Both witnesses were adamant that they saw a black panther and not a dark mountain lion. The fact that the male witness had seen cougars in the wild before, lends credibility to his claim that this was no mountain lion. I must say, the behavior attributed to the ranch hands is interesting. If true - and I have no reason to believe it isn’t – one stiffened up and clammed up while the other quickly radioed home to give the family there a heads up regarding the sighting. It is speculation of course, but these seem to be the behaviors of two men who are familiar with the animal that was described. I guess we’ll never know for sure.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">As I mentioned above, due to the length of this submission, I am going to feature it alone on this post. Others will soon follow.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">One other thing, I am going to start adding compelling sighting reports from other states on my <a href="https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=1Rg28MrAN8VRc8CiB_RyWbB19zvp9OL4&usp=sharing" target="_blank">Black Panther Distribution Map</a>. I think I have accomplished my original goal of trying to pinpoint the most likely places to encounter these cryptid cats in the Lone Star State. Now, I am hoping to identify other patterns on a larger scale by including all of North America. I will be going back through my records and adding some reports that reached me from outside of Texas.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">If you are interested and would like to know more about the black panther mystery, check out my book, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Cats-Black-Panthers-America/dp/1938398904/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1ELDC8NYURKOD&keywords=shadow+cats&qid=1687898298&s=books&sprefix=shadow+cats%2Cstripbooks%2C104&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Shadow Cats: The Black Panthers of North America</a></i>. Click the book link in the right margin or <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Cats-Black-Panthers-America/dp/1938398904/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1ELDC8NYURKOD&keywords=shadow+cats&qid=1687898298&s=books&sprefix=shadow+cats%2Cstripbooks%2C104&sr=1-1" target="_blank">here</a> for more information.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-57021490662022571172023-06-22T14:12:00.003-05:002023-06-22T14:12:47.652-05:00The Pebble Thrower of Peach Creek<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">In the mid to late 1800s, settlers streamed west across North America in great numbers. There were various reasons for this exodus from the east: gold was discovered in California, land on the frontier was cheap - if not completely free - and the belief in Manifest Destiny had taken root deep in the American psyche. Texas was considered a prime location for refugees from the east. The climate was good and the soil fertile. Stephen F. Austin, Green DeWitt, Martin De Leon, and other empresarios secured land grants - first from Spain, later from Mexico - parceled the property, and sold it off in large tracts to eager settlers. Once Texas won independence from Mexico, immigration increased dramatically. One area that attracted both Anglo and Native American settlers was in East Texas in an area that today makes up Tyler and Polk Counties. The reasons these pioneers chose this area west of the Sabine River were obvious to anyone who visited. The region was rich in timber and water resources, the land was good for farming, and the forest was teeming with all types of game. It was a virtual paradise.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">In the summer of 1846, something altogether new was introduced to the area’s settlers: fear. This fear motivated the pioneers to eschew the dog-run-style cabins preferred in other parts of Texas and instead construct homes of the thickest logs that resembled miniature forts. Students of Texas history might assume the source of this fear was tension between the settlers and the Native American tribes in the area. Such was not the case as the dominant tribe of the area, the Alabamas, were presided over by a Chief named Colita who generally preferred a peaceful, even friendly, relationship with the white settlers.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUdFkx4FhnIwVkOS1i_46D4akO8FhwtbS8EMgZAIzYLiZtW7OTZ7lcSgwUi2dTDdB05PPwhGnYTvLjhFum5LYyBRhTFIIUcVnKEb8DhefqHHAigkgU76oKEJz7wSokn_liVeXSDDtHJMJGjUXm5wsc26ZYav91jRXE2mpJS9clAhc4Bic-rziJ8VlE8EF/s288/Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="272" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUdFkx4FhnIwVkOS1i_46D4akO8FhwtbS8EMgZAIzYLiZtW7OTZ7lcSgwUi2dTDdB05PPwhGnYTvLjhFum5LYyBRhTFIIUcVnKEb8DhefqHHAigkgU76oKEJz7wSokn_liVeXSDDtHJMJGjUXm5wsc26ZYav91jRXE2mpJS9clAhc4Bic-rziJ8VlE8EF/w379-h400/Map.jpg" width="379" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Despite the friendly relationship between the area’s pioneers and the Alabamas, the settlers never felt completely comfortable with their Native American neighbors and rumors of marauding Indians from the outer edges of Colita’s Kingdom spread like wildfire from time-to-time. (Colita presided over the Alabamas, but also acted as Chief over a loose affiliation of tribes that included the Coushattas, Creeks, and Kickapoos) When such rumors surfaced, settlers would appoint a family member to serve as a watchman so that they would not be caught flat-footed by renegade Indians during the dark East Texas nights. It was during one of these times, when bands of marauding tribesman were said to be in the area, that the legend of the pebble thrower of Peach Creek was born.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The George Caudill family lived on Peach Creek, about a half mile from a settlement called Peachtree Village. Having heard the rumors of roaming hostile Indians, George charged his eighteen-year-old son with taking the watch one hot night in August of 1846. The nervous youth began to hear movement sounds in the forest surrounding the family’s cabin during the wee hours of the morning. The young Caudill could not see anything unusual in the dark woods but continued to hear someone, or something, moving about. Suddenly, an object of some kind struck the roof of the cabin. The teenager heard the object slowly roll down the eaves of the house and land on the sandy ground outside. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Fearing this was some sort of Indian attempt to probe the cabin’s defenses, the young man rushed to wake his father. Within minutes the entire family was up and expecting the worst. A bit later, another small object struck the roof, rolled slowly down the sloped structure, and landed with a thump outside the cabin. This action was repeated multiple times throughout the night and was heard by the entire family. Mercifully, as the first rays of dawn began to break through the towering trees of the East Texas forest, the activity ceased.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnUn92Kab0flvMgPNpr6_ue8LgWr8100or-c-7vxLeB77k-pQBwasw1zyiXTosk4cQQqDtrAVAs10dOP5a92mxSOwIWcnyBFV_-dBAf2HEPvtsJuEcSz9Rws_zrydFb3dMklpdgAn0WnKAMalZdhdNVglGfK1lPRPAZNZay0YDbIFJu-7aoSKt9tPcdBL1/s361/Cabin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="299" data-original-width="361" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnUn92Kab0flvMgPNpr6_ue8LgWr8100or-c-7vxLeB77k-pQBwasw1zyiXTosk4cQQqDtrAVAs10dOP5a92mxSOwIWcnyBFV_-dBAf2HEPvtsJuEcSz9Rws_zrydFb3dMklpdgAn0WnKAMalZdhdNVglGfK1lPRPAZNZay0YDbIFJu-7aoSKt9tPcdBL1/w400-h331/Cabin.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Once it was fully daylight, the Caudill’s carefully stepped out of their cabin and inspected the area around the structure. The trees had long been cleared from the area immediately surrounding the home, making it impossible for anything to drop from them onto the roof. The front “yard” – as was the custom in those days – was kept grass and weed free, and provided a sandy record of the tracks of any person or animal that visited the cabin. On this morning, there were no tracks of any kind. A search for the objects that had struck the roof turned up nothing. The family was completely baffled.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Around midday, George paid a visit to his nearest neighbors, a family by the name of Burchman. Caudill shared the story of the creepy goings on of the previous night with his friend. Mr. Burchman replied, “That’s funny, we had the same experience and at about the same time. We couldn’t find any tracks but felt sure it was Indians.” The two men proceeded to the home of another neighbor, the Keys family. They, too, reported having endured a barrage of pebbles during the previous night. Upon further inquiry, families up and down Peach Creek reported having experienced the shenanigans of the “pebble thrower” at some point in the recent past.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Over time, the stone-throwing continued. Annoyance replaced fear among the pioneers as it became clear that whomever the pebble thrower was, he was more prankster than marauder. All assumed that some mischievous Indian was the culprit and it was decided a visit to Chief Colita was in order in the hopes that he could put a stop to the disturbing incidents. Upon hearing the testimony of the settlers, Colita seemed strangely unsurprised and more than a little amused at the plight of the homesteaders. He stated that it was highly unlikely the pebble thrower was an Indian. He acknowledged there were probably a few unsavory characters among his tribal coalition, then added, “But, the Indian does not poke fun at the white man. If he likes you, he will not do that. If he does not like you, he has a better way of letting you know than throwing pebbles on the roofs of your homes.” Colita convinced the settlers that there was nothing he could do to stop the stone thrower but that there was likely nothing of which to be afraid. While the pioneers believed Colita’s assertion that Indians were not responsible, several left with the feeling that the Chief knew more about what might actually be happening than he let on. Whatever the case, the rock throwing continued. Week after week, month after month, and year after year, the assault continued on the cabins of settlers up and down Peach Creek. The pebble thrower never left tracks and the projectiles themselves were only rarely found.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrchSlbVciZCa9ssiFJoRS6V3vib1-IrZC95bDNqkHGdvpM-XxyG3f5UDIFi1f9QEVxQegUzPzraLxRRMwqENl5vZO-sB74722UfgBHhq8lImOnYcwgTrFdi6ibpV0l335b3HWOQkR2SrFTP4uoDDGzVNisAb5z9Dshl2oxg0R-uiPElYyfvQjm956plbh/s349/Woods.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="262" data-original-width="349" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrchSlbVciZCa9ssiFJoRS6V3vib1-IrZC95bDNqkHGdvpM-XxyG3f5UDIFi1f9QEVxQegUzPzraLxRRMwqENl5vZO-sB74722UfgBHhq8lImOnYcwgTrFdi6ibpV0l335b3HWOQkR2SrFTP4uoDDGzVNisAb5z9Dshl2oxg0R-uiPElYyfvQjm956plbh/w400-h300/Woods.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The pebble thrower of Peach Creek might have been a mischievous youth of Indian <i>or</i> Anglo origin. That would be the simplest and least disturbing explanation. It is worth mentioning, however, that the heavily forested regions of East Texas, West Lousiana, Southwest Arkansas, and Southeast Oklahoma have long traditions of wildman/sasquatch encounters. Too, bigfoot lore is rife with incidents where these North American wood apes have reportedly hurled projectiles at or near people. The most famous example is, no doubt, the Ape Canyon incident that allegedly took place in the remote forest of Washington in 1924; however, literally hundreds of other projectile throwing events have been documented over the years. Incidents that are eerily similar to those experienced by the homesteaders along Peach Creek so long ago continue to be reported to this very day. Could the pebble thrower of Peach Creek have been a sasquatch? Many would find such a hypothesis laughable, but as someone who has been holed up inside a cabin in a remote and heavily wooded location during such a barrage of rocks, I do not. If there is anything to the bigfoot phenomenon, the possibility should be considered.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Should you ever find yourself awakened in the middle of the night by a loud impact on the roof of the cabin in which you are living or vacationing, you likely have nothing to fear other than the loss of a good night’s sleep; however, I would recommend inspecting the roof of the structure the next morning. Should you find rocks resting there, you might reconsider your plans before staying a second night. After all, rocks cannot fly onto roofs and they do not fall from trees.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Those rocks were thrown up there.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><u>*SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT*</u> - If you are intrigued by the idea of wood apes hurling stones at remote cabins, you would likely enjoy my book, <i>Valley of the Apes: The Search for Sasquatch in Area X</i>. In it, many such incidents – along with a wide variety of other ape-related weirdness – are documented. You can purchase <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Valley-Apes-Search-Sasquatch-Area/dp/1949501221/ref=sr_1_1?crid=J7UCVI3SGPVM&keywords=valley+of+the+apes&qid=1654628130&sprefix=valley+of+the+apes%2Caps%2C111&sr=8-1" target="_blank">here</a> or, if you would like a signed copy, contact me directly at <a href="mailto:Texascryptidhunter@yahoo.com" style="color: #954f72;">Texascryptidhunter@yahoo.com</a>.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Source:<o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Combs, J. F. (1965). Chapter 5. In<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Legends of the Pineys</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>(pp. 55–61). essay, Naylor Co.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-1605718561068423532023-06-09T13:38:00.000-05:002023-06-09T13:38:48.087-05:00The Phantom Bull of the Huana<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p>Perhaps the most frustrating thing about looking into mysteries of the natural world is how difficult and rare it is to come to a satisfactory explanation for unusual phenomena. Is the Sasquatch real? Do black panthers roam the bottomlands of the American South? A true resolution to these mysteries, and many others, sometimes seems tantalizingly close but remains elusive and just out of reach. Every now and then, however, the truth behind a legend, myth, supernatural or cryptozoological mystery does present itself. This is the story of one of those times.</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Deep in East Texas, not too far from the small town of Center, a small, unassuming stream runs through Shelby County. Huana creek, or <i>the Huana</i>, as the Native Americans once called it, trickles through a part of Texas rich in traditions of ghosts, phantoms, panthers, wildmen, and other spectral creatures. Due to the unusual sounds, screams, and unearthly noises that often emanated from the area, many early settlers in the region felt the shallow valley of <i>the Huana</i> was haunted and not a place to venture alone. The most feared of these apparitions held the communities of MacCauley and Beck and the Bush settlement in the grip of fear for a five-year period during the early 1880s. The creature of which I speak always traveled a worn trail that ran from an area referred to as the “Sand Hills” south of Huana Creek to the communities previously mentioned to the north and west before bending back to the south and petering out where it began. It was said that on dark nights, when the moon was absent or but a sliver, a large creature walked the loop that was dubbed the Huana Trail. It announced its presence with a series of four loud screams. These screams - there were always four - were repeated every one-quarter to one-half mile as the beast, whatever it was, traveled the trail. On these nights, <i>the Huana </i>belonged to it and it alone.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The monster was heard by many but never seen. This was likely due to the fact that it only seemed to travel the trail on the darkest of nights, making visibility difficult. Too, these conditions made for a dearth of people willing to venture out for a trek on these evenings, making potential witnesses scarce. That changed one night around 1883 or 1884. It seems on the night in question two settlers were visiting a friend in one of the communities near <i>the Huana</i>. Suddenly, the screams of the monster rattled the surrounding forest. The pair hopped on their horses and made for the trail with haste, determined to spy the maker of the terrifying screams. Taking a position on the trail, the men heard the creature scream out again – a sound they later described as being similar to that of a bull bellowing – followed by an odd, rhythmic clicking and thumping as the feet of the beast pounded the sandy trail.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ppcDvQlmeY8UtHIyI0juJ0DsxnKx-6Uux2GKm1CJUSySLGBI5X0rYgOR0Q34N23UV0_4t_zgMiJxjMiuolWAtq9oQOqd2S0EIUAJ9-yUdhD4AiY6Oyw5ChfDBHd-tWiR12N_9YLDnnUu8aXdW21r11ey6zWuzXOasK8U-f_JoNEMcMOwBKhIym5U3g/s483/Phantom%20Bull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="483" data-original-width="447" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ppcDvQlmeY8UtHIyI0juJ0DsxnKx-6Uux2GKm1CJUSySLGBI5X0rYgOR0Q34N23UV0_4t_zgMiJxjMiuolWAtq9oQOqd2S0EIUAJ9-yUdhD4AiY6Oyw5ChfDBHd-tWiR12N_9YLDnnUu8aXdW21r11ey6zWuzXOasK8U-f_JoNEMcMOwBKhIym5U3g/w370-h400/Phantom%20Bull.jpg" width="370" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Finally, the pair caught sight of the apparition. They described two white objects, spreading across the trail at almost head height. Too, they spied two or three other white objects near the ground. Nothing else was seen, and after reconsidering the wisdom of their plan, the two men spurred their frightened mounts in the opposite direction and back to town.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Another report, eerily similar in detail, came out of the bottoms not too much later. Two young men who were camping in the woods near the Huana Trail after hunting the area during the day, heard the terrible bellowing scream previously described by so many. As the beast passed along the trail near the spot where the young men were hidden, they heard the distinct clicking and thumping noises previously described by the two cowboys. The animal was close – they could tell by the sounds – and yet they saw only two ghostly white objects floating at head height and several smaller glowing objects at ground level. After the apparition had passed, the two boys beat a hasty retreat.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Similar run-ins with the mystery creature continued for years afterward. Details were always the same: bellowing screams (always in fours), glowing objects stretching across the trail at a height of five-and-a-half to six feet, and smaller ghostly objects flitting about close to the ground. Several times riders met the beast on the trail and their horses, without exception, turned tail and fled despite the protestations and best efforts of the horsemen. Despite the fear the monster generated, it never pursued anyone fleeing from it or even left the sandy loam of the Huana Trail. This led to speculation by the locals that, whatever it was, it was cursed to walk that trail for eternity. Even though the beast had never hurt anyone, business meetings that would require attendees to travel <i>the Huana</i> were always scheduled on nights when the moon was near or totally full in an effort to avoid encounters with this seemingly cursed phantom.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Eventually, locals began to focus on tracks left by the creature. By all accounts, they appeared to be the tracks of a huge bull. The footprints revealed splayed hooves (the two parts of the bull’s hooves spread apart when the animal placed its weight on the foot). The telltale “clicking” that was always heard when the mystery bovine walked by was now thought to be the sound of the two parts of the hoof coming back together when the bull lifted its foot off the ground. This explained part of the mystery, but many questions remained. Why was the bull never seen? Why did he travel only on the darkest nights? Why did he never venture off the Huana Trail? Why did he walk this circuitous route at all?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Finally, a group of locals decided they wanted to get to the bottom of the mystery once and for all. They set out to try to find the Phantom Bull during daylight hours in the Sand Hills. Once there, signs of grazing were found in several locations after the men left the trail. Noting this was the first time there had been any reason to believe the great beast had ever strayed from the trail, the search party pressed on. Here, the forest was different; it was made up almost entirely of ancient pines with little to no underbrush and long sight lines. Could that have something to do with the beast’s willingness to leave the trail here in the Sand Hills? Soon, searchers came upon what was described as a “beautiful grassy depression in the virgin forest.” In the middle of this serene scene was a huge bull. The men described the bull as follows:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">“He was a shining black and his tail was longer than most native bulls…The brush (the end of the tail) was large and snow white. The hooves were long, and like that of polished ivory.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">“The magnificent horns swept outward on either side of the bull’s head, then turned to the front and curved upward about six inches. They had a spread of eight feet and their size was uniformly the same from the head of the bull to the point where they turned to the front.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">“The horns were like polished pearl and glittered in the sunlight, with an opalescent reflection toward their tips. They were slim, graceful, and like no other horns ever seen on bulls in this region. They were definitely those of a true Texas Longhorn.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJgNclN25qe7Mtj-kR9BDWgww2ywzXunHX0CWJFpGjIOyI-qT0qt26acC0eUkz1d9qtdzj5Mb9ObbiUUtCPd1P6zVQIqRtR7FdhrhKamQfmvKDYV2zfETOKVI2w-kY-CfZQ8WnYQNKsVdxOMijmXpz7wOdEQPDJgAXvCHW4DyMlhTPQ9WnhAnmL1hz6A/s483/Split%20Hooves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="483" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJgNclN25qe7Mtj-kR9BDWgww2ywzXunHX0CWJFpGjIOyI-qT0qt26acC0eUkz1d9qtdzj5Mb9ObbiUUtCPd1P6zVQIqRtR7FdhrhKamQfmvKDYV2zfETOKVI2w-kY-CfZQ8WnYQNKsVdxOMijmXpz7wOdEQPDJgAXvCHW4DyMlhTPQ9WnhAnmL1hz6A/w400-h326/Split%20Hooves.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The once mighty, but now clearly aged bull trembled with fear but had not the strength to stand. The men rigged up a hoist, put a harness around the animal, and lifted him to a standing position in the hopes he would graze a bit. The men decided to retreat and return the next morning. Any hopes that the bull might recover from whatever ailed it were dashed when the locals returned. The body of the bull was still suspended, but the animal’s head was lowered to the point that the tips of the horns nearly touched the ground. The beast’s tail moved not at the will of its owner but at the whims of the east Texas breeze. The Phantom Bull of the Huana was dead.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Once the sheer size of the bull and the width of its horns were witnessed, it was easy to see why the great beast never left the trail and ventured into the dense woods of the Huana Valley. The spread would have allowed the bull to travel only on a wide trail or open woods. Too, after spying the slick black coat of the longhorn, it was clear to see why he traveled only on the darkest of nights. On these nights, only the soft glow of his white hooves and/or horns could be seen; otherwise, the huge creature was all but invisible.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The bellowing screams of the Phantom Bull that once inspired so much fear were now interpreted in a different way. In hindsight, it seemed that these had been the calls of a lonely animal crying out in the hopes of finding others of its kind. Sadly, there were no other longhorn cattle in the timbered region of Texas at this time, so the cries of the solitary bull went unanswered.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Where the longhorn bull came from remains a mystery to this day. He bore no earmarks or brands, and no one stepped forward after his death claiming ownership. Wherever he came from, and whether he was truly lonely or reveled in his solitude, are secrets which were carried away on the East Texas breeze upon his death. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">I have no way of knowing, but I like to think that when the mighty Phantom Bull of <i>the Huana</i> lowered his head for the last time in that Sand Hill glade, he finally found his herd and with them the peace that comes from being with family. If so, his nights of walking a singular, dark path are over, and he is alone no more. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Sources:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Combs, J. F. (1965). Chapter III - The Phantom Bull of the Human. In<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Legends of the Pineys</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>(pp. 37–44). essay, Naylor Co.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-74011765445030480232023-06-08T12:33:00.000-05:002023-06-08T12:33:05.521-05:00Special Announcement<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Let’s get right to it…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">I have resigned from the NAWAC Board of Directors and will no longer serve as the Chairman for the organization. I really wasn’t planning on making an announcement about my decision but - even though I stepped down only yesterday - I have received multiple queries from people outside of the NAWAC regarding my resignation. That being the case, I felt it was better to go ahead and address the topic and put to rest any rumors as to what my motivations for stepping down might be.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">First, this was my decision and my decision only. I wasn’t booted out or asked to resign. I remain on good terms with the other Board members. I should point out that I have NOT left the NAWAC and will remain a member of the organization. I have only stepped down from the Board of Directors. The NAWAC is a wonderful organization. In my opinion, it is the finest group out there attempting to get to the bottom of the sasquatch conundrum. If the ultimate answer regarding the reality of these creatures is going to come from a research group, my money is on the NAWAC being that group. All is well there.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Second, I am not suffering some sort of health crisis. Other than being very tired, I am fine. I suppose exhaustion could be considered a physical ailment, but there is nothing bigger than that going on with me. I just needed to step back and recharge a bit. In order to do so, I felt it only right to step aside from my leadership position. To that end, I will be taking the summer off with the hopes of picking up my research activities in the fall.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">For those of you who don’t know, I am a long time History teacher and, until the last few years, coach. As a coach, I know that after a while players can tune you out. Over time, your stories, metaphors, and motivational speeches have all been heard. Such things are less impactful the second or third time they are offered up. It is the same here. I thought it best to step aside before my message became stale and redundant. I think a new voice is needed, someone with fresh perspectives to offer. I care too much about the NAWAC and its mission to become an impediment.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">I suppose that about covers it. Again, all is well; it is just time to step aside and pursue other dreams.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">I am hopeful that I will now have more time and energy to dedicate to writing, blogging, and some other projects I have in mind. I already feel a lightness that I have not felt for a very long time. I have completed another non-fiction book and will be shopping it this summer. This one is not related to my cryptozoological endeavors; rather, it is compilation of the funniest and most touching moments of my teaching/coaching career. I think there might be an audience for it; after all, there are a LOT of teachers out there. I also have a new short story nearly completed and the first four chapters of a novel done. More on those things as they develop.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The <i>Texas Cryptid Hunter</i> blog is the foundation from which all of my writing endeavors have sprung. I have not been diligent in keeping it up over the last few years but am determined to get it going again. I love writing the blog and feel there is more to be said about an abundance of topics and more tales of weird encounters that took place in the Lone Star State (and beyond) to be told. A new post is in the works and I plan on getting back to it as soon as I wrap this one up.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">So, there you have it. My resignation from the NAWAC Board of Directors really boils down to one thing and one thing only…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">…it was time.<o:p></o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-36251449705915418252023-02-02T20:36:00.005-06:002023-02-02T20:38:06.127-06:00The Kindly Phantom of Wilson Creek<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">As most of you know, I am a native Texan. To be more specific, I am from East Texas. The reason I make this distinction is due to the difference in terrain and geography from east to west. The <w:sdt id="28689235" sdttag="goog_rdk_0"><a></a></w:sdt>East is home to the Piney Woods and the legendary<w:sdt id="-835926881" sdttag="goog_rdk_1"></w:sdt> - and jungle-like - Big Thicket. Copious amounts of rain falls on this part of the state, birthing numerous rivers and countless creeks. The dark woods and deep thickets offer cover and food for many animal species. This is also the region of the state from whence most of the sightings of large, hairy, ape-like creatures originate. The tale that follows concerns at least one such creature and is one I was not familiar with until recently. Some of the details reported will be familiar to followers and researchers of the sasquatch phenomenon; however, other accounts are unlike anything I have ever come across. Do the various stories over the years describe different beings/creatures or are all the accounts related? I suppose that is for you to decide, dear reader. Now, on with the story.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">“It looked like a monster,” a 1934 article from the May 20<sup>th</sup> Sunday edition of the <i>Beaumont Enterprise </i>begins. “<w:sdt id="-1530952058" sdttag="goog_rdk_2"><a></a></w:sdt>It’s (sic) body…seemed to be covered with long black hair. Some described the Thing as bearing every earmark of a great ape.” The creature in question was squatty and powerfully built. He (we make an assumption on gender here) wore no clothing and never uttered a word. More often than not, the phantom – as he came to be known – appeared to locals at the height of raging storms and/or when said folks were in some sort of trouble and in dire need of help.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3UyssUajV3EsUeicYI3wy21vU18EiTt6Dtracx9cuITaHisbT7rqSemtkpTF_xuEjT4Bb-E41Y2aCs9dtoUaTin_Uhk8jhiEPMtG4H4JqqhvcBPKbopMkn2MXVl_-CiHntezB1WGyd-divMQAaGG1rtvxsxNNCYdIX0ruZkqeUJU-Fa3w-EVgY_QaFA/s1846/Screen%20Shot%202023-02-01%20at%2011.41.05%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1452" data-original-width="1846" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3UyssUajV3EsUeicYI3wy21vU18EiTt6Dtracx9cuITaHisbT7rqSemtkpTF_xuEjT4Bb-E41Y2aCs9dtoUaTin_Uhk8jhiEPMtG4H4JqqhvcBPKbopMkn2MXVl_-CiHntezB1WGyd-divMQAaGG1rtvxsxNNCYdIX0ruZkqeUJU-Fa3w-EVgY_QaFA/w400-h319/Screen%20Shot%202023-02-01%20at%2011.41.05%20AM.png" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">This particular “haint” wandered the woods and along the banks of creeks in Tyler County, Texas in the 1840s and 1850s. While the settlers of this region had many encounters with the benevolent beast – for that is how he was thought of by the locals – it is the stories of brothers John and Robert Rotan <w:sdt id="715933952" sdttag="goog_rdk_3"><a></a></w:sdt>which I will focus on here. The following tales were related to reporter Dean Tevis by Young John Rotan for the previously referenced 1934 article. The stories were told to him by both his uncle, Old John, and father, Robert Rotan.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"> Old John left the community of Peach Tree one night to visit the nearby Burch settlement, which sat about a mile from the spot where the town of Chester exists today. The exact nature of the trip is not stated, but it was most likely a business trip (Old John dealt in cattle). Whether John Rotan closed his deal is not disclosed<w:sdt id="-1814939195" sdttag="goog_rdk_4"><a></a></w:sdt>; what is known is that a terrible storm set in on the area as he was making his way home. The night was pitch black and rain was falling in buckets. Old John had to depend on the vision of his horse to keep to the trail, as he could see little to nothing in the deluge. It was not long before he rode up on a creek called Wilson Branch. The usually benign stream was running fast and deep due to the heavy rains. His horse – an unusually trustworthy animal, according to John – hesitated and balked at crossing the torrent. Old John tried everything to get his mount to proceed. He coaxed, prodded, and spurred the beast but to no avail. The horse would not budge. Suddenly, an event occurred that caused Old John to question whether it had really been the raging waters that his horse had shied away from. “Seemingly from the creek itself, then well out of its banks, grew an unnatural figure.” His horse reared in fright, pawing at the air in the direction of the advancing shadow, forcing John to hold on for dear life. “It wasn’t very tall,” he is quoted as saying. “But it was thick set, ape-like, and seemed hairy. It seemed to wear no clothes. In a way, you may have said it was rather shapeless.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">John was chilled to the bone by the sight of the apparition but made no move to retrieve the loaded pistols he carried in his saddlebags. Whether John froze in fear, or, as he later claimed, concluded that it would not have been to his advantage to fire a bullet into the Thing, can only be speculated upon now. What is known is that while Old John pondered on what action to take, the phantom walked up to a position even with his saddle horn. Miraculously, the frightened horse quieted and stood stock still as the creature reached out and touched the animal’s neck. Wide-eyed, Old John Rotan watched as “The wild figure put its hand on the horse for an instant, and then, without adoo (sic) took hold of the bridle” and began leading the steed down the slope and across the angry creek branch safely. “It was all over in a few seconds,” John said, “then the figure disappeared into the darkness it came from…”. Old John never saw the phantom again but often speculated on what his fate might have been had the creature never appeared. The tale of the kindly phantom of Wilson Creek might have faded into oblivion soon after, had not dozens of other settlers seen and had experiences with what most feel was the same being. One such notable account was given by Old John Rotan’s own brother, Robert.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Robert Rotan’s story took place in the springtime as he awaited the arrival of his first-born, a season that brings violent thunderstorms to much of the Lone Star State. As many can attest, babies care little for what atmospheric conditions are present at the time of their arrival on this mortal plane, nor do they seem concerned whether <w:sdt id="-930659467" sdttag="goog_rdk_5"><a></a></w:sdt>or not medical help is available. Such were the circumstances the night of little Sally Rotan’s birth. Mother and father had hoped and prayed that the child’s arrival would come after the raging storm outside had broken, but it soon became obvious that would not be the case. Help was needed and it was needed fast. Robert saddled up and tore off through the storm towards the homestead of a local woman known to locals as “Grandma Pullen.” Ms. Pullen was often called upon by the residents of Tyler County to assist in the birthing process. Robert needed to fetch her fast, as his wife was in distress. The problem was that Ms. Pullen lived 8-10 miles away in an area that was in the thick woods and nearly impenetrable under the best of circumstances. Robert was attempting to find the Pullen cabin on a moonless and stormy night.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJeZooMfjX_VFo7Rya54UAxL-pSg0aO6vfvOApu_U58FWARe44AUqCameh0ALD1DgNaj63BpiwBJP7Y2goti9amQPGuEYm0n33mbenL5rNv2CPeJxAsSe-vQt0wakrhgtNv2dKVtzeg9pA27O5fVRU55DMC9x3oR_R8WqhXVV-9XPKVO2qe6jor3MvQ/s1748/Screen%20Shot%202023-02-01%20at%2012.01.24%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1320" data-original-width="1748" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJeZooMfjX_VFo7Rya54UAxL-pSg0aO6vfvOApu_U58FWARe44AUqCameh0ALD1DgNaj63BpiwBJP7Y2goti9amQPGuEYm0n33mbenL5rNv2CPeJxAsSe-vQt0wakrhgtNv2dKVtzeg9pA27O5fVRU55DMC9x3oR_R8WqhXVV-9XPKVO2qe6jor3MvQ/w400-h305/Screen%20Shot%202023-02-01%20at%2012.01.24%20PM.png" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Situated between Robert Rotan’s home and that of Grandma Pullen was Caney Creek. According to the<i>Enterprise</i> article, “Caney is famed for its tangled wilderness. Its banks, and the country on both sides of them for a good distance, are thick in palmettos, tear blankets, and saw vines, bearing mean sharp briars which cling tenaciously to the clothing, and rip the hide of a horse sent through them. By daylight a horseman could ride round the worst of the patches which overgrew the narrow roadways, but at night he was almost helpless against them. It was often said that a man could hide all his life in this country and never be found…”. This is what Robert Rotan was up against as he fought the elements in an effort to locate the Pullen cabin.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Robert successfully, though painfully, negotiated the tear-blanket vines and made it to the bank of Caney Creek. Once there, he found the creek dangerously high and fast-moving, due to the raging storm. While searching for a safe spot to cross the creek, Robert and his mount became hopelessly lost. Being nighttime – a dark, stormy, and moonless night at that – there were no landmarks visible to guide him, and after riding in circles for what seemed like an eternity, Robert stopped his horse and hunkered down, hoping that the weather would soon break and he would be able to find his way out of the thicket. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Exactly how long Robert and his horse had been motionless in the deep thicket is not known. All that is known is that Robert, after having been still for a while, saw a figure rise up mere yards in front of his mount, “seemingly from the ground.” The apparition did not hesitate, but stepped forward and took the reins of the horse and proceeded to lead him through the bottoms, across the creek, and up into the hills, where Robert was able to again locate the trail. Robert, who had had ample time to observe the creature, described a being “covered with black hair,” and having a “somewhat short, stubby body, and looked like…an ape.” The phantom said nothing, nor did it ever even look at Robert, and melted back into the gloom of the forest once its mission had been accomplished. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Robert Rotan did make it to Grandma Pullen’s cabin that night and she was, indeed, able to help deliver baby Sally. Years later, Robert’s son, Young John, would say, “As you can believe, my father was desperate that night. Perhaps it was a dream he had. Perhaps it was something else. As far as I’m concerned, I’m of the opinion that what he saw was the same figure my Uncle John saw that night he crossed Wilson Branch.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">There are other stories from the Peach Tree Village area that are more typical<w:sdt id="-11836853" sdttag="goog_rdk_6"></w:sdt> (if that term can ever be used) descriptions of sasquatch encounters. Settlers during this same time period were hounded by a mischievous “pebble thrower.” One homestead in particular, dubbed the Hallmark Home, was the favorite target of the hurler and was showered with rocks, pebbles, gravel, and other forest debris on a regular basis for 75 years. Often, the pebble thrower was accompanied by what the pioneers called the “wild woman of Caney Creek.” The wild woman was never seen, but her “wild, untamed screams were heard in the tangled bottoms of the creek on many occasions over a period of half a century.” Were the pebble thrower, the wild woman of Caney Creek, and the kindly phantom of Wilson Creek all different entities, or was the same being responsible for all of the strange occurrences in Tyler County during the late 19<sup>th</sup> century? Young John Rotan, son of Robert and nephew of Old John, pondered the same question. “I often wonder if the kindly phantom was kin to the wild woman, if she was a ghost, too, and whether they both were related to the strange pebble thrower of the Hallmark House. Sometimes I think they’re different, and then sometimes I think, well, maybe they’re one and the same thing – just acting different at different times and for different purposes.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">I admit that the actions of the kindly phantom described in these old stories are unlike anything I have ever heard regarding sasquatch behavior. Whether the events took place exactly as described, I obviously cannot say. What I do know is that in a world where wood apes are often seen as creatures to fear and are subtly blamed for the disappearances of what seems like every missing hiker or hunter across the nation, it was nice to come across a story where the sasquatch-like figure was seen in a positive light and not feared by the locals (though the pioneers of Tyler County did fear the pebble thrower and wild woman of Caney Creek). <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">I will wrap this post up with the words of Young John Rotan who said, “You know there are some things in this world, now as well as back there, that neither you nor I, or anyone else, can explain. And just because we can’t explain them, why, that’s no reason to say they didn’t happen. I don’t look at things like that, do you?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><w:sdt id="-844402460" sdttag="goog_rdk_7"><a></a></w:sdt>Well, do you? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">P.S. – I would like to send a special “thank you” to Susan Shine Kilcrease and her crack research staff at the <a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=icehouse+museum&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8" target="_blank">Ice House Museum</a> in Silsbee, Texas for finding and forwarding the <i>Beaumont Enterprise</i> article sourced for this post. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b>Source:<o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 28.35pt; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Tevis, Dean. “The Kindly Phantom of Wilson Creek.” <i>Beaumont Enterprise</i>, 25 May 1934, pp. 10–10. </span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-37202461391704680822022-11-22T17:22:00.004-06:002022-11-22T21:36:20.730-06:00The Ghost Horse of the Llano Estacado<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> There were no horses in North America until the Spanish began their conquest of the New World in the 1500s. While it is true that the progeny of escaped English, French, and Dutch settlers in the northeast ran wild in the eastern region of the continent for a time, the wild mustangs of the western half of the continent are the horses that continue to hold sway in the imagination of most people. These horses were the direct descendants of the Arab and Andalusian stock used by the conquistadores who plundered the Aztecs and searched for the seven golden cities of Cibola on the plains of middle America and across the deserts of the southwest. These horses were legendary for their fiery temperament and resistance to domestication. No other creature on the continent represented freedom the way the wild mustangs of the American southwest did. This is the story of one very special horse, even by wild mustang standards, that some say continues to run free to this very day.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> The great horse, white man and Indian agreed, was special. The stallion was given many names: the White Steed of the Prairies, the Pacing White Stallion, the Ghost Horse of the Plains, the White Shadow, the Winged Steed, and Wind Drinker. The horse was described as being of a white or pale cream in color with a snow-white mane and tail. Too, the mustang was much larger than the normal wild horse of the plains and his harem of mares was twice the size of a normal steed. The speed of the Ghost Horse was the stuff of legends. “He seemed to glide rather than work his legs,” one cowboy who attempted to lasso the steed once said. “He did not seem to be trying to get away, just leading us on.” The fame of this magnificent creature spread far and wide and sightings of this phantom of the prairie stretched from the Mexican desert in the south, to the Badlands of the Dakotas in the north, to the Brazos River bottoms in the east, to the Rocky Mountains in the west. He was nowhere, yet everywhere, it seemed. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1J-GbCK7VfLa51j9wZq01wowRXTIJ343wi-P2hXUhgnM8gHxoZdg_4HpxDxXfSSsnZ7z2vXq_PLrkNZV4csVrKkd8bVY2YJx3h759GbUwN9kpZm3TSazdLYdgkkQctIcFwoe3YbSnzF81_AQgnZDdMu1djEbcQpbp14T7isLLHQwyrdCA9VGLKk-0Gw/s372/Ghost%20Horse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="312" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1J-GbCK7VfLa51j9wZq01wowRXTIJ343wi-P2hXUhgnM8gHxoZdg_4HpxDxXfSSsnZ7z2vXq_PLrkNZV4csVrKkd8bVY2YJx3h759GbUwN9kpZm3TSazdLYdgkkQctIcFwoe3YbSnzF81_AQgnZDdMu1djEbcQpbp14T7isLLHQwyrdCA9VGLKk-0Gw/s320/Ghost%20Horse.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> Ranchers across the west knew that the capture of the Wind Drinker would bring fame and fortune, thus a bounty for the capture of the stallion was offered. The potential windfall caught the eye of a breeder of race horses from Bonham, Texas in 1879. He organized a venture to track down and capture the Ghost Horse. The wranglers ranged far north into Indian Territory (now Oklahoma) before finally catching sight of their quarry. The vaqueros laid all manner of traps and attempted to trick the great horse into being surrounded, but each time the stallion would bolt and “pace away like the wind.” The Indians, who had agreed to guide the rancher, abandoned the effort upon laying eyes on the great steed. They considered him a supernatural creature and the possessor of “unspeakable medicine.” From the description of one of the horsemen present on the expedition, the vaqueros did not feel altogether too differently. “When running at a distance he showed nothing but a fast-flying snow-white mane and tail that looked like wings skimming the ground…he was the most alert and the wildest as well as the fleetest animal in western America.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> Likely, the most well-known tale of an attempted capture of the great White Horse of the Prairies was undertaken by a fiddle-playing character from the east named Kentuck prior to the Civil War. Kentuck, the story goes, took up with a gambler from Arkansas who went by the name of Jake. The two heard tale after tale about the Ghost Horse and, spurred on by the thought of the wealth they would most certainly attain if successful, decided to go after the legendary steed. The pair purchased pack mules, supplies enough to last half a year, and four New Mexican horses bred for speed and endurance and set off on their quest. The gambler, Jake, in particular seemed obsessed with the hunt. He said, “I don’t know exactly where to hunt, but we’ll ride on the prairies until we find the horse or until they are burned crisp by the fires of Judgement Day.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> The colorful duo crisscrossed the Great Plains for weeks on end until they found themselves on the Llano Estacado, or Staked Plains, near the Canadian River in the panhandle of Texas. As weeks turned to months, Kentuck lost his enthusiasm for the effort and tried to talk Jake into calling the whole thing off. “Go back if you want,” Jake said. “Go and rot. I have sworn to get what I come to get.” Chastised, Kentuck went silent and stayed on. Eventually, the persistence of the pair would pay off and they would finally put eyes on the legendary Wind Drinker. Following a cold and wet day, the hunters were huddled in camp around a buffalo chip-fed fire. Jake was squatting and warming his hands and staring to the southwest when he saw movement. “Yonder,” he hissed to Kentuck and made for his staked pony. “I supposed it was Indians and grabbed my rifle,” Kentuck later said. “Then my eyes picked up the white horse. He stood there to the southwest, maybe a hundred yards off, head lifted, facing us, as motionless as a statue. In the white moonlight, his proportions were all that the tales had given him. He did not move until Jake moved toward him.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> Spying his pursuers, the Ghost Horse fled to the east, against the moon. Jake later recounted, “He seemed to glide rather than work his legs, he went so smoothly. He did not seem to be trying to get away, only hold his distance. He moved like a white shadow, and the harder we rode, the more shadowy he looked.” After a bit, his horse tiring and an increasing sense of foreboding creeping into his soul, Kentuck called out to his partner, “Jake, I don’t like this. There’s no sense to it. I’m remembering things we’ve both heard. Let’s stop. We can’t no more catch up to him than with our own shadows.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> Jake, completely obsessed and wearing the look of a madman yelled back, “I told you I’m going to follow till the Day of Judgement.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> Kentuck chose to continue the pursuit and not leave his partner, though he did hang back a bit. “Riding on and on out there in the middle of nowhere, not even a coyote breaking the silence, it didn’t seem like this world,” he later said. It was about then that Kentuck spied a jagged blackness on the ground in front of them: a canyon. “It’ll soon be settled now,” he said to himself. “We’ll soon know whether the White Stallion can cross empty space like a ghost.” At the realization they were approaching a massive drop off, Kentuck pulled his mount to a stop. To his horror, his partner spurred his mount even harder in an effort to catch the Wind Drinker. Kentuck called out, “Jake, watch out for the canyon!” His warning, if Jake ever heard it at all, came too late and Kentuck watched the Arkansas gambler and his mount plunge over the side of Palo Duro Canyon.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Ui5sX_cP-syCG2rtd5xLHTSnH1oN5H9sMKSMUoLrbh6i5YEgDad5LVPIaN3o76y-XBgEIfFZpPHii4yzvFCuncnfpOnm1X3N5tHjxB8VgeD16SYJkbyM9MoF7HYXTqtAcMCdVwowYZlX_YV3LQR9bWFd2CdX2fhl3I91QnY1TsVvRZQS_s18MQtRAA/s403/Wind%20Drinker.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="331" data-original-width="403" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Ui5sX_cP-syCG2rtd5xLHTSnH1oN5H9sMKSMUoLrbh6i5YEgDad5LVPIaN3o76y-XBgEIfFZpPHii4yzvFCuncnfpOnm1X3N5tHjxB8VgeD16SYJkbyM9MoF7HYXTqtAcMCdVwowYZlX_YV3LQR9bWFd2CdX2fhl3I91QnY1TsVvRZQS_s18MQtRAA/s320/Wind%20Drinker.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> Kentuck cautiously approached the edge of the gorge and peered down into its dark maw. He could not see the bottom. Neither did he see the Ghost Horse. When questioned, Kentuck said he could not be sure if the White Pacer had gone over the edge or not. He had turned his attention to his friend and lost sight of the stallion. Shortly after dawn, Kentuck found a buffalo trail that led to the bottom of the canyon. There he found the remains of Jake and the horse he rode into oblivion, a full one hundred feet below the rim of the canyon. Kentuck buried his friend in a makeshift grave where, I suppose, he remains to this day. As for the Wind Drinker, Kentuck would never again lay eyes upon him.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> Campers and hikers at Palo Duro Canyon have reported the sound of thundering hoofbeats in the night. Too, tales of a phantom white mustang running the plains and along the rim of the Canyon are still shared from time to time. In a few cases, witnesses have spied a ghostly cowboy riding hell-bent for leather after the great stallion and into the Texas night, doomed, it seems, to pursue the uncatchable until “Judgement Day.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> The wild mustang remains a symbol of the old west. The idea that these horses represent freedom and liberty endures. According to the U.S. Bureau of Land Management, there are more than 82,000 horse and burros on federal rangelands stretching across ten states today. Whether the White Pacer runs with them, I cannot say. Regardless, the legend of the Wind Drinker remains. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;">I hope it will always be so.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="line-height: 28px;">Sources: <o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><span style="line-height: 28px;">Dobie, J. F. (1995).<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>I'll tell you A tale: An anthology</i>. University of Texas Press.<span class="apple-converted-space"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><span style="line-height: 28px;">Vasilogambros, M. (2022, July 20).<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Westerners struggle to manage booming wild horse populations</i>. The Pew Charitable Trusts. Retrieved November 22, 2022, from https://www.pewtrusts.org/en/research-and-analysis/blogs/stateline/2022/07/20/westerners-struggle-to-manage-booming-wild-horse-populations<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-36871907199855718742022-10-08T14:37:00.004-05:002022-10-08T17:03:00.585-05:00The Last Grizzly<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The grizzly bear (<i>Ursus arctos horribilis</i>) is North America’s most feared predator. While their fearsome reputation is somewhat overblown, few would argue just how intimidating these brown bears can be. Reaching weights of up to 800 lbs., able to run 35 mph in short bursts, and sporting some of the most terrifying claws in the animal kingdom, grizzlies are animals to be respected and left alone.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Grizzlies once roamed throughout the entire western United States and points south. These bears were able to thrive in different climates and geographies and ranged from the Great Plains, to the heavily forested mountains of the Rockies, and to the arid desert lands of the American Southwest and Mexico. But did they ever make Texas their home?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsjnKmb2FcGgZrPIqTwayqbxC2kEPouoAvv_26k6Q6TAfJ_xGN6d-UXHGZEGunGWEu6xrRKOmgTKRozo8Ae5qK-Y4f0IgSF0q0UGhlqeEU_RivjYPUekXnNj09zWXO8COV5uGyZ2hPq2nJeZZyA-karEoTPfvf4ICt2cv3bAoXLZGY2ANN1wgD1B1pnQ/s481/Range.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="436" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsjnKmb2FcGgZrPIqTwayqbxC2kEPouoAvv_26k6Q6TAfJ_xGN6d-UXHGZEGunGWEu6xrRKOmgTKRozo8Ae5qK-Y4f0IgSF0q0UGhlqeEU_RivjYPUekXnNj09zWXO8COV5uGyZ2hPq2nJeZZyA-karEoTPfvf4ICt2cv3bAoXLZGY2ANN1wgD1B1pnQ/s320/Range.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">It is well-established that the smaller black bear (<i>Ursus americanus</i>) resides in Texas. These bruins are plentiful in the Big Bend country of west Texas and are beginning to return to the heavily wooded eastern portion of the Lone Star State; an area from whence they were hunted to the point of extirpation in the early 1900s. Despite having been absent from the region for decades, black bear lore remains strong there. Old timers still recount the story of a two-year-old child that disappeared into the Big Thicket of southeast Texas. The child was missing for weeks until she was found alive and well, but in the company of a jealous she-bear. The story goes that once the child was rescued, the sow bear tracked her down and showed up at the residence of the child’s family on the edge of the forest. The bear tried to break into the home – presumably to retrieve her “cub” – and had to be killed by the little girl’s father. Another story, often related by the great bear hunter, Ben Lilly, was the tale of a male bruin that was shot and wounded by a farmer. The bear survived and harbored such hate for the farmer that he tormented him for years afterward. The vengeful bear is said to have killed the farmer’s calves and colts and destroyed his crops. There are many more fantastic tales about black bear encounters in the Lone Star State, but are there any about grizzlies? Sadly, no.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Well, that isn’t completely true. There is one.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">In his book, <i>Bear Stories</i>, Joe M. Evans tells the tale of the only grizzly bear ever officially documented in the Davis Mountains of west Texas. In fact, it is the only grizzly known to have ever been killed anywhere in the Lone Star State. There had been rumors that the great bears existed in limited numbers in the Davis Mountains years before, but by the 1890s – when the tale Evans tells took place - the suspected sub-species of grizzly that had been tentatively labeled <i>texensis</i> seemed to be completely absent from the region. As it turned out, at least one individual remained.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">In those days, Evans and his friends – avid bear hunters all - held an annual bruin hunt in the Davis Mountains. “We took our families,” Evans wrote. “Those were happy days.” It was on November 2, 1890 when the hunters discovered the carcass of a partially eaten cow in a gulch near the head of Limpia Creek in Jeff Davis County. Near the carcass, the hunters discovered a bed of pine straw ten feet long. Next to the nest, a bear track. A BIG bear track. The print was thirteen inches long and right at six inches wide. The group quickly realized this was no black bear. In fact, it seemed the bruin was one of exceptional size and strength…even for a grizzly.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The giant bear had dragged the cow for one hundred yards down the side of a mountain. “In doing so," former Texas Ranger A. J. Sowell said, “The grizzly hung her around a small tree, but…continued to pull until he broke the tree down and then went on with his load, breaking the horns off the cow when they would hang on rocks.” The thought of an animal strong enough to accomplish such a feat gave more than just the hunters pause. Of the thirty-five bear dogs present, only four had the sand to take up the trail of the big grizzly. The dogs followed the great bear’s scent for five miles before they finally cornered him in a stand of pines.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6LvnbE0UjTHmGccJ-f1zv-oHs4OxXqCFw0NZU1KG6pLxgq7XefSwTI9zKPcosHkRXtBT4OHpvdFFwORBhwmYsCGcC6c-UtNdt8kD_P9kdj24PIAT_14TsNnSQlV2_CXXH_3Xl10Tcnt-0UEEzDOxdssO4YJgMjDI3Ip_T7KNWhhokO8vFbGLVH2ulDA/s443/Finleys.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="385" data-original-width="443" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6LvnbE0UjTHmGccJ-f1zv-oHs4OxXqCFw0NZU1KG6pLxgq7XefSwTI9zKPcosHkRXtBT4OHpvdFFwORBhwmYsCGcC6c-UtNdt8kD_P9kdj24PIAT_14TsNnSQlV2_CXXH_3Xl10Tcnt-0UEEzDOxdssO4YJgMjDI3Ip_T7KNWhhokO8vFbGLVH2ulDA/w320-h279/Finleys.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The first two hunters to arrive on the scene were John Means and C. O. Finley. The pair opened up on the enormous bear with all they had. Each man pumped five rifle slugs into the grizzly, which they estimated weighed at least one thousand pounds. The roars of the enraged, and now dying, grizzly echoed through the canyon, reaching the ears of the rest of the hunting party still a mile away. The massive grizzly did manage to take a small measure of revenge before expiring, killing one of the prized bear dogs with a single swipe of one of its huge, clawed paws. “He literally, broke the dog to pieces,” Evans wrote.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The hunters had the bear’s hide – which took four men to load onto a packhorse - tanned and mounted. Even after the head and legs were removed from the hide, it remained large enough to cover a double bed. The skull of the great bear was sent to the Smithsonian Institution in Washington D.C., where in 1918 a scientist assigned sub-species status to the bruin. An effort was made by Evans and his congressman to have the skull returned on loan to Texas in 1935. Evans wanted to display the skull as part of the Texas Centennial celebration. The Smithsonian officials declined the request. They felt the specimen was too rare to be displayed outside of the Washington D.C. museum.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggajIAcumX0rkl9gr6_Szs4rZisAciKzjubl1jINrX8eHFlRqjfapiKiUUzyJJXkhNoEl4D5kYKVEx2RcU1ztf9HJsQPThosWr_VTABAXaWSLET5mZVisA2VAKai0MMb1uqMiF0glOhf0F4tMcXkfL5vuynfKoJoAh8NmXZy9Rc6uMfbONpz11vCb84Q/s624/skull.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="464" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggajIAcumX0rkl9gr6_Szs4rZisAciKzjubl1jINrX8eHFlRqjfapiKiUUzyJJXkhNoEl4D5kYKVEx2RcU1ztf9HJsQPThosWr_VTABAXaWSLET5mZVisA2VAKai0MMb1uqMiF0glOhf0F4tMcXkfL5vuynfKoJoAh8NmXZy9Rc6uMfbONpz11vCb84Q/s320/skull.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Today, the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department confirms that black bears have rebounded quite nicely in the Big Bend area since the peak of the bear hunting days of the late 1800s and early 1900s; however, no one has seen a grizzly there – or anywhere else in Texas – since Victorian times. Hopes that a grizzly had returned to the region were raised when unusually large bear tracks were found in the Guadalupe Mountains in 1931; however, no one ever saw the bruin responsible.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">When reading of the demise of the only grizzly known to have ever stalked Texas soil, I can’t help but feel a bit melancholy. Joe Evans did not seem to feel the same way. He wrote in his book, “The killing of this grizzly was the climax of all our hunting experiences in the Davis Mountains.” No doubt, this quote will rub many the wrong way today, but try not to be too hard on Joe Davis and his hunting friends. It was a very different time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZTdfKT_W4IMp2I15NZUnL4WCAuF5pRcVzdlxQiev4ZDN4yzg3qJzS3NOVB51xHEL1P8_PXwFxoeoETxXKnngm8fwmNuBPyjjqweOaNDyCQe4L3k0DgDZfJVkF3NyFan0jdBfFJ_3j07fbqgDkmuasv7zcaWUrXH_rCJex5HfYiWqQwl0TGlLv9DrJg/s451/Claw.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="451" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZTdfKT_W4IMp2I15NZUnL4WCAuF5pRcVzdlxQiev4ZDN4yzg3qJzS3NOVB51xHEL1P8_PXwFxoeoETxXKnngm8fwmNuBPyjjqweOaNDyCQe4L3k0DgDZfJVkF3NyFan0jdBfFJ_3j07fbqgDkmuasv7zcaWUrXH_rCJex5HfYiWqQwl0TGlLv9DrJg/s320/Claw.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Reports of the “ghost grizzlies” of the San Juan Mountains of southern Colorado filter in on a semi-regular basis. I have even heard of a grizzly sighting in the Santa Fe National Forest of northern New Mexico within the last few years. If valid, that means one of these great bruins was alive and well only 360 miles, or so, from El Paso. Still, I don’t hold out much hope that the grizzly will ever return to Texas. As big as the Lone Star State is, I am just not sure there remains room for the grizzly bear.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">What a shame.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b>Sources:<o:p></o:p></b></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">“Grizzly Bear.” Encyclopædia Britannica. Encyclopædia Britannica, inc. Accessed October 8, 2022. https://www.britannica.com/animal/grizzly-bear.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">“Grizzly Bear.” National Wildlife Federation. Accessed October 8, 2022. https://www.nwf.org/Educational-Resources/Wildlife-Guide/Mammals/Grizzly-Bear.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Abernethy, Francis Edward, ed.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Tales from the Big Thicket</i>. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1966.<span class="apple-converted-space"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Cox, Mike.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Big Bend Tales</i>. Charleston, SC: History Press, 2011.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Dubois, Scott. “Davis Mountains ‘Silvertip’ Grizzly Bear – 1899.” Wild Texas History, May 10, 2020. https://wildtexashistory.com/davis-mountains-grizzly-bear-1899/.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Burnham, Josh, and Nick Mott. “Timeline: A History of Grizzly Bear Recovery in the Lower 48 States.” Montana Public Radio. MTPR, November 2, 2021. https://www.mtpr.org/montana-news/2021-04-02/timeline-a-history-of-grizzly-bear-recovery-in-the-lower-48-states.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">“Ursus Horriaeus Texensis-Texas Grizzly Bear+Bell,Finley,Hulling,Means,Merriman.” eCrater. Accessed October 8, 2022. https://www.ecrater.com/p/30848833/ursus-horriaeus-texensis-texas-grizzly.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-48767267487163164332022-07-21T14:59:00.002-05:002022-10-08T17:07:42.571-05:00The Lobo Girl of the Devil's River<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i>Even a man who is pure of heart<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i>And says his prayers by night,<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i>May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms <o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i>And the Autumn moon is bright.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">The werewolf legend is likely as old as mankind itself. Tales of shape-shifting shamans, skinwalkers, and unfortunate souls who were either cursed or survived an attack by one of these beasts (only to become a monster themselves) appear in nearly every culture to have ever existed on this planet. I am sure that those versed in the science of psychology could share many theories on why this may be so. I, however, tend to believe that there is something more to such stories. Something significant – and very real to those who experienced it – must have taken place at some point; otherwise, the lore of the werewolf would not have survived for these many generations.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">What sort of event could lead to the belief that a human being could be transformed into a wolf when the moon is full? Perhaps the legend has its roots in the tales of feral children found in the forests and jungles of the world long after they were presumed dead. Some of these stories are purely fictional, of course. The wolf-suckled twins Romulus and Remus who, according to legend, founded Rome, are one such example. Rudyard Kipling’s <i>The Jungle Book, </i>which details the rescue of the “man cub” Mowgli by a she-wolf who nursed him and raised him as her own, is another. These tales are all well and good, but is there any proof that such a thing has ever really happened? Surprisingly, the answer is <i>yes</i>.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Fzzs0EDON34MpHpkl2t547fXbDZeB2N_z2eejgyBsoyPeW2pS4FkFaMqtJoZVgsDCeFEbBcdUa2Iq_dXkH6XiIyzzUNYyjFIbCSSF9EAEm0rXmXhIbRqFCe81cva0fhjKO5-wDHfK7Gr0Y9Y60tPm1VfT_ojnntpTjpGAbg8HGuirgE8Hn2uETibJw/s316/Dina%20Sanichar.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="316" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Fzzs0EDON34MpHpkl2t547fXbDZeB2N_z2eejgyBsoyPeW2pS4FkFaMqtJoZVgsDCeFEbBcdUa2Iq_dXkH6XiIyzzUNYyjFIbCSSF9EAEm0rXmXhIbRqFCe81cva0fhjKO5-wDHfK7Gr0Y9Y60tPm1VfT_ojnntpTjpGAbg8HGuirgE8Hn2uETibJw/w320-h304/Dina%20Sanichar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Throughout history, the discovery of feral children has been extremely rare, but it has happened. The previously mentioned Mowgli was inspired by the strange tale of Dina Sanichar who was raised by wolves in India’s Uttar Pradesh jungle. Found by hunters in a wolf’s den in 1867, Sanichar (named by missionaries who later took him in) walked on all fours, would only accept raw meat as food, gnawed on bones to sharpen his teeth, and could not communicate verbally other than producing decidedly wolf-like grunts, barks, and howls. Eventually, Sanichar did learn to walk upright and dress himself; however, he never did learn language and died at the age of 35. Another real-life example of this phenomenon is “Peter the Wild Boy” who was discovered in the forests of Germany in 1725. Believed to have been abandoned by his parents, the boy was estimated to be 11 years old when found. He was unable to speak and loathed wearing clothes. Within a year of his rescue, Peter was shipped off to London where he became the “human pet” of King George I. The wild boy bounded about the King’s court on all fours, which the courtiers of Kensington Palace initially found quite entertaining. It was widely believed that the boy had been raised by wolves or bears due to his behavior. Eventually, the King tired of Peter and shipped him off to a farm in Herfordshire where he was forced to wear a collar that read: “Peter the Wild Man of Hanover. Whoever will bring him to Mr. Fenn at Berhamsted shall be paid for their trouble.” Peter died in 1785 and was buried in the cemetery of St. Mary’s at Northchurch. There are numerous other examples of feral children that were suspected to have been raised by animals that could be cited here, but I trust the point has been made. What many do not realize is that this very scenario may have once played out in the deserts of west Texas.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjge9QNcGLkJUJGa3NwJbDtd0fUQXhT-PWO5L8j8t4gC0Lnd2qJLCpySjLfGjS8iCA0kZ-sS7HL9g-QrwnZuJMbSCgffF49CyDoto6SWyDafQntFbO4wn9UGyTK3G4EPeKSZrKd7r3YLGkWJyu0vA6ZuZFGvOyQIFzw-2nlndaL2F83WxQq91Ggam2BfQ/s328/The%20headstone%20of.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="328" data-original-width="288" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjge9QNcGLkJUJGa3NwJbDtd0fUQXhT-PWO5L8j8t4gC0Lnd2qJLCpySjLfGjS8iCA0kZ-sS7HL9g-QrwnZuJMbSCgffF49CyDoto6SWyDafQntFbO4wn9UGyTK3G4EPeKSZrKd7r3YLGkWJyu0vA6ZuZFGvOyQIFzw-2nlndaL2F83WxQq91Ggam2BfQ/w281-h320/The%20headstone%20of.jpg" width="281" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">A nearly forgotten historical fact is that a group of English people once established a small settlement called Delores on the banks of the Devil’s River (part of the Rio Grande drainage basin) in southwest Texas. The community was short-lived as most of the settlers were killed by Comanches. One white couple (who had a rather colorful history of their own), who lived on the extreme edges of the settlement, survived and carried on. One day in 1835, the settler husband frantically rode up to a homestead owned by Mexican goat ranchers and asked for help as his wife was having a baby and was in great distress. According to legend, a storm was brewing and the Mexican couple wanted to wait it out before mounting up and going to the aid of the mother to be. The settler insisted they leave immediately as his wife’s need was great. The Mexican couple relented and they started toward the settler’s home on the Devil’s River. The party had hardly started out when the settler was struck by lightning and killed. This event gave the <i>rancheros </i>pause and they decided to wait until morning to make the trek. While understandable, the decision of the Mexican couple proved disastrous for the female settler. Her lifeless body was found beneath an open brush arbor the next morning. There were clear signs the woman had died during childbirth, yet no child could be found. The couple hastily searched for the infant but found only lobo tracks in the vicinity. The couple assumed that wolves had come upon the scene and devoured the infant. Why the lobos had left the body of the mother unmolested was puzzling to the pair, but they proceeded with burying the unfortunate woman and then made their way home.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Ten years later, in 1845, a boy living at San Felipe Springs (now called Del Rio) reported that he had witnessed a pack of wolves attacking a herd of goats. With them, he claimed, was a long-haired creature that resembled a naked girl. The boy was chastised greatly, but the story – as good tales are apt to do – spread throughout the region. Roughly a year later, a Mexican woman at San Felipe declared she had watched two big lobos and a naked girl ravenously devouring a freshly killed goat. The woman claimed to have gotten very close to this odd trio before they took notice of her and bolted. The naked girl, at first, ran on all fours but eventually rose up and ran on two feet. The woman reported she was positive as to what she had seen and that the child was definitely keeping company with the two wolves.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Again, the story spread like wildfire, but this time the memory of the unfortunate settler woman who had died during childbirth, but whose baby was never found, was recalled. Could the feral “lobo girl” be the missing child, now 10 years old? Other stories related by local Native Americans – previously dismissed as superstitious drivel by the Anglo settlers - were also recalled. The Indians had claimed more than once to have located barefoot human tracks and handprints on the sandy areas along the river. The human spoor was always found among wolf tracks. Could it be? Was such a thing even possible? It was decided by the settlers that they had to find the wolf or lobo girl and rescue her. The posse managed to pick up the wolf pack’s trail quickly and cornered the girl in a small canyon. With the feral girl was a big lobo that fled when the child wedged herself into a crevice in the canyon wall. The girl at first cowered in fear before her tormentors, but then her countenance grew fierce. She spat, hissed, and growled at the men as they approached and bit and clawed them once they took a hold of her. Once captured, the girl began to produce a “pitiful, frightful, unearthly sound…resembling both the scream of a woman and the howl of a lobo, but being neither.” Distracted by these terrifying sounds, the <i>vaqueros</i> nearly failed to spy a huge he-wolf, likely the pack alpha, creeping up on the group. Fortunately for the posse, one man turned in time to see the wolf as it was preparing to spring and shot it dead with his pistol. At this, the lobo girl fainted.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSdHGGv64TQpJUg2ekvgOz_nG3J_SIJ2WZzXYYl5GR0rxwJI98f6ljpGraLT4t3HnBt_0rNWlDokP4MDB-Nn0I6skHDZ6hfHi5JHadTj9GzHlTUZ5YPKuDRLed7lo0bqfnRHunmh0NPZbP2doHDYplxT8xdgg8D6WYs3lbcCj60yq-I9Bzvaq-6MUQQ/s409/The%20Devil's%20River.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="304" data-original-width="409" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSdHGGv64TQpJUg2ekvgOz_nG3J_SIJ2WZzXYYl5GR0rxwJI98f6ljpGraLT4t3HnBt_0rNWlDokP4MDB-Nn0I6skHDZ6hfHi5JHadTj9GzHlTUZ5YPKuDRLed7lo0bqfnRHunmh0NPZbP2doHDYplxT8xdgg8D6WYs3lbcCj60yq-I9Bzvaq-6MUQQ/w320-h239/The%20Devil's%20River.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">The men bound the girl securely and stepped back to examine her more closely. According to the men, she was “excessively hairy, but breasts of beautiful curvature and other features showed that she was a normally formed human female. Her hands and arms were muscled in an extraordinary manner but were not ill proportioned.” The party rode to the nearest ranch where the girl was untied and placed in an isolated room for the night. The men attempted to communicate with her, offered her food, coverings for her body, and water but she reacted only with distrust and fear. The terrified girl backed herself into the farthest corner of the room where she cowered pitifully. The men decided, for the time being at least, to leave the poor creature alone. The door was closed and locked and the men nailed a thick board across the room’s only window. Things remained quiet…until darkness fell.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Once the sun set, the wolf girl began to emit screaming howls that were terrible to hear. Soon, her cries were answered by the long deep howls of wolves in the distance. The men’s eyes widened and fear began to creep into their souls as the cries of the lobos – seemingly approaching the ranch house from all sides - grew louder and more menacing. It wasn’t long before they were all howling in unison, “a bass-throated chorus of ferocity” the likes of which the rough and tumble <i>vaqueros</i> had never before heard. To the men, it seemed all of the lobos of the western world were gathering outside of the house. These <i>rancheros</i>, all of whom had lived their entire lives in the region, had never heard anything like it, “either from such a number of wolves now assembling or in the sullen, doom-like quality of the long, deep howling.” Back and forth the calls went. One of the men later recalled, “They (the wolves) would go silent as if waiting from some answer, and the wild girl in the dark room there would answer back with her unearthly, howling scream, a voice neither of woman nor of beast.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">After a while, exactly how long no one could say for sure, the pack made for the corrals and pens, attacking goats, cows, and horses. The screams of the livestock broke the spell the terrified men were under and they sprang into action in an effort to save the animals. Ordinarily, the <i>rancheros</i> did not fear wolves; however, on this night, the men stayed tightly packed together as they sought to run the predators off by shooting and shouting into the darkness. Eventually, the wolves retreated. When the men returned to the ranch house, they discovered that someone, or something, had managed to wrench the plank nailed across the window of the room where the lobo girl had been incarcerated loose. She was gone, presumably reunited with her pack. Not a single howl was heard for the rest of the night and, somewhat curiously, wolf sightings in the general area became exceptionally rare over the following years.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Six years would pass before the wolf girl was seen one final time. The year was 1852; gold had been discovered in California and travel westward had greatly increased necessitating the need for a wagon trail or road that was better watered than the Chihuahua Trail currently used by travelers heading to and/or through El Paso. A group of scouts seeking such a route came upon the lobo girl at a spot on the Rio Grande where it takes a sharp bend far above the mouth of the Devil’s River. At close range, the men caught sight of the hair-covered, naked young woman (some versions of the tale say she was holding or nursing two young wolf pups). Once she caught sight of the men, she sprang away in a flash, “dashing into the breaks at a rate no horse could follow.” The slack-jawed men sat stunned upon their mounts, knowing they had just glimpsed none other than the lobo girl of the Devil’s River.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">As far as I can tell, the lobo girl was never seen again…at least not by white or Mexican settlers who would have left some record of the account. It is rumored that some of the handful of Apaches left in the region caught sight of her from time to time, but it cannot be confirmed. As years passed, the memory of the lobo girl faded. What happened to her will likely never be known. Some would later claim the entire story had been fabricated as it was simply not possible; however, the <i>vaqueros</i>, <i>rancheros</i>, and scouts who did see her never recanted their stories and stuck to their guns until the day they died.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-eH7AS-AAVZji2YfOO-mJxBubi2BXUCS_OAZ1fdKDvfgmVTtbhcWBcVCw_qLNfbuTcYZNjEA4x2NsOWHzZcQ6UJJdBokg_5fSPL0FQK_BEtUuzT4RBPVXselUc3RolnG1Nw9t0dK83xz6XFumaxxtCegdg2YD9YRveQP1ddbUwGBQm7j9lrwcftddA/s378/Pack.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="262" data-original-width="378" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-eH7AS-AAVZji2YfOO-mJxBubi2BXUCS_OAZ1fdKDvfgmVTtbhcWBcVCw_qLNfbuTcYZNjEA4x2NsOWHzZcQ6UJJdBokg_5fSPL0FQK_BEtUuzT4RBPVXselUc3RolnG1Nw9t0dK83xz6XFumaxxtCegdg2YD9YRveQP1ddbUwGBQm7j9lrwcftddA/w320-h222/Pack.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Texas does have werewolf legends of the more classic shapeshifting type: <a href="https://texascryptidhunter.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-beast-of-bear-creek.html" target="_blank">The Beast of Bear Creek</a>, <a href="https://texascryptidhunter.blogspot.com/2013/05/sasquatch-classics-converse-werewolf.html" target="_blank">The Converse Werewolf</a>, and the <a href="https://texascryptidhunter.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-swamp-monsters-of-cajun-louisiana.html" target="_blank">Cajun Rougarou</a> all come to mind. To me, however, the tale of the lobo girl of the Devil’s River may be the strangest and most unsettling of them all. If scenarios where feral children raised by animals in other parts of the world have proven to be true, why could it not also have happened in the arid deserts and scrubland of frontier west Texas? Was she a true werewolf? No. To the <i>rancheros</i> that encountered the lobo girl and her fiercely protective pack, however, it mattered little. She was wolf enough to them.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">West Texas remains sparsely populated to this very day. It is a wild and lonesome country where nature still reigns supreme. It is a region where all manner of strange goings on continue to be reported; a place where it is easier to believe in such things as the lobo girl of the Devil’s River than it might be in other locales. Should you ever find yourself there, alone on the night of a full moon, you might still hear the howl of a wayward wolf or coyote and recall the legend of the lobo girl. On such a night, even though you do not believe in such things, another stanza of the famous werewolf poem might come to mind:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i>To hear her cry in the dead of night<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i>And strain to see the terrible sight,<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i>Is to know the meaning of dreadful fright.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Sleep well.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Sources: <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;">Dobie, J. F., & Boatright, M. C. (1966). <i>Straight Texas</i>. Southern Methodist University Press.</p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;"><span style="text-indent: -1cm;">Sawyer, B. J. (2017, November 22).</span><span style="text-indent: -1cm;"> </span><i style="text-indent: -1cm;">The Devils River is an Off-Grid Paradise for Adventurers</i><span style="text-indent: -1cm;">. Wide Open Country. Retrieved July 21, 2022, from https://www.wideopencountry.com/devils-river-off-grid-rugged-texas-paradise/</span><span style="text-indent: -1cm;"> </span></p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;">Lee, A. (2021, August 12). <i>Dina Sanichar – a wild Indian feral child who was raised by wolves</i>. Mysteriesrunsolved. Retrieved July 21, 2022, from https://mysteriesrunsolved.com/2020/04/dina-sanichar-real-mowgli.html </p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;">Lane, M. (2011, August 8). <i>Who was peter the wild boy?</i> BBC News. Retrieved July 21, 2022, from https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-14215171 </p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;">Zimmerman, J. (2014, March 24). <i>Wolf Boys and girls</i>. Jean Zimmerman. Retrieved July 21, 2022, from https://jeanzimmerman.com/bio/savage-girl/wolf-boys-and-girls/ </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-25520499516533925512022-07-11T15:19:00.000-05:002022-07-11T15:19:02.360-05:00The Headless Horseman of the Nueces<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Human kind has always been a superstitious lot. Tales of ghosts, monsters, witches, and other “haints” are universal and cross all cultural divides and borders. Especially terrifying are tales where the alleged spectre in question met his/her end in the most gruesome of ways: decapitation. Tales of ghosts cursed to search for their missing heads on this earthly plane abound. One such example of this particular mythos is the tale behind the ghost lights of Bragg Road in East Texas. Some who believe in such things claim the lights are tied to a long dead conductor or railway worker who slipped under the train that used to run along the road and lost his head beneath the wheels of a tanker car or caboose.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">While all such stories are frightening, the terror seems to ratchet up a notch when the headless spirit is astride an equally ghostly horse. Images of Washington Irving’s Ichabod Crane fleeing for his life from the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow are those most commonly dredged up from the minds of most when the topic is broached. But it is all in good fun, such things are just campfire stories meant to thrill and delight the younger members of families. Headless riders are not real.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Except when they are.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">In the mid 1800s, not long after the Mexican-American War wrapped up, settlers around the Nueces River in South Texas began to report sightings of a headless horseman roaming the countryside. Witnesses claimed the rider, dubbed "<i>El Muerto</i>," carried his head (still wearing a sombrero) tied to the horn of his saddle. About his shoulders, the rider wore a brush-torn serape over a buckskin jacket. The legs of the apparition were covered by rawhide leggings of the kind worn by Mexican vaqueros. The horseman was always seen astride a black mustang stallion so wild it seemed to have erupted onto the Texas plains straight from the mouth of hell. The rider was seen both day and night and there seemed to be no pattern to when and where he might appear next. The only constant was that he always rode alone and brought a paralyzing terror to any unlucky enough to lay eyes upon him. The Indians of the region, who rarely agreed with the Anglo settlers on much of anything, concurred that the rider was real and endeavored to keep their distance from him. Tribes on the hunt for bison or wild horses would range hundreds of miles out of their way to avoid entering the territory of the headless spirit.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtqLO1K0Z90xI7zpjGDXptsvu5s2LHq6BOCmmsow5xCOk37Xo0yofWV_6h9LbyMh2GM-YpuCX38YKJo-sS8rQx7y2L95bWE4wrGNnnSTy02TUIs4kXk3FktNsAJDGMIiZ5H7d96X5ACujFtliqVzn-aKcaaAK3qyO2yqHak7XJ1mGbqtXuF28vIKKUg/s383/El%20Muerto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="383" data-original-width="343" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtqLO1K0Z90xI7zpjGDXptsvu5s2LHq6BOCmmsow5xCOk37Xo0yofWV_6h9LbyMh2GM-YpuCX38YKJo-sS8rQx7y2L95bWE4wrGNnnSTy02TUIs4kXk3FktNsAJDGMIiZ5H7d96X5ACujFtliqVzn-aKcaaAK3qyO2yqHak7XJ1mGbqtXuF28vIKKUg/s320/El%20Muerto.jpg" width="287" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Mayne Reid, stationed at Fort Inge on the Leona River, wrote, “No one denied that that thing had been seen. The only question was how to account for a spectacle so peculiar as to give the lie to all known laws of creation.” Reid went on to list the many theories that had sprung up in an effort to explain the rider. An Indian dodge, a lay figure, a normal rider disguised with his head beneath a serape that shrouded his shoulders, and the possibility that the headless horseman was none other than Lucifer himself were the most common explanations bandied about by settlers and soldiers in the region. One theory not expounded upon by Reid was that the rider was the <i>patron, </i>or ghostly guard, of the lost mine of the long-abandoned Candelaria Mission on the Nueces River. The debate raged on but the mystery as to the rider’s identity remained.<o:p></o:p></p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Finally, a group of settlers – tired of being afraid – managed to ambush the headless horseman at a watering hole near the present day town of Alice. The rider seemed impervious to their firearms. One man in the posse said, “Our bullets passed through him as easily as through a paper target.” A change in tactics was in order and the settlers shifted their fire from the seemingly invulnerable rider to the black mustang. The horse, it seemed, did not share the rider’s ability to weather gunfire and was felled quickly. Upon inspection, the settlers found a desiccated human carcass – one riddled by bullet holes and arrows – lashed to the back of the mustang. The mystery was solved but it birthed another question: who was the headless rider?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">It was learned some time later exactly how the headless horseman of the Nueces had come to be. The answer came from none other than legendary Texas Ranger Bigfoot Wallace himself. Years before, during the Texas Revolution, Texian militias laid siege to the city of San Antonio. On the night of December 4, 1835, a Mexican lieutenant named Vidal deserted, joined the Texians, and provided them with valuable intelligence that helped lead to the surrender of the city by General Cos (the Mexican military would later return and avenge their humiliation at the Battle of the Alamo). After the Texians won their independence from Mexico at the Battle of San Jacinto, Vidal took to stealing horses in order to make a living. He proved quite adept at this endeavor and became the head of several rings of horse thieves operating in South Texas. The Texians were slow to suspect Vidal – despite mounting evidence – due to his reputation as a Texas patriot. Vidal was able to further deflect suspicion by deftly planting evidence that suggested the Comanches – who often raided settlements and homesteads for horses – were the true culprits.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Despite his best efforts, a couple of ranchers named Flores and Taylor began to suspect Vidal of the thievery and struck out to follow the trail of the rustlers. While camping on the Frio River, Flores and Taylor met up with Bigfoot Wallace – not one to tolerate a horse thief – who decided to join the hunt. As they drew nearer to the stolen herd, the hunters came across cattle that had been shot with arrows. “Vidal’s trick to make greenhorns smell Indians,” Taylor wrote. The three men did not fall for the ruse and pressed on, finally catching up to Vidal and his men near the Leona, only twelve miles from Fort Inge. To make a long story a bit shorter, the three men sneaked into the rustler’s camp and made short work of Vidal and his men that very night.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMUBQmC7lgQI-Kv7mXTIlEeddMkMfH2llWW8NiI9x8gyaY5nK0L7qdJlJ5jJvbXrvmwgXOKHy-B4BAsTDwQt1_nP3ADHvT_ui1-6tOQoj-my-I3tm0PYMTTQuRF6C97awO9XOcVvEZUE-n10khWmV_RI2rY-qz1ODFVeLE4T30s-e62uxBYMz4vVDUXg/s345/Wallace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="315" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMUBQmC7lgQI-Kv7mXTIlEeddMkMfH2llWW8NiI9x8gyaY5nK0L7qdJlJ5jJvbXrvmwgXOKHy-B4BAsTDwQt1_nP3ADHvT_ui1-6tOQoj-my-I3tm0PYMTTQuRF6C97awO9XOcVvEZUE-n10khWmV_RI2rY-qz1ODFVeLE4T30s-e62uxBYMz4vVDUXg/s320/Wallace.jpg" width="292" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">The next morning, Wallace – always a bit on the eccentric side – made a faithful decision. He chose a black mustang stallion from the recovered <i>caballada, </i>one that had been herd-broken but never saddled. Wallace roped the stallion, saddled him, and – after decapitating Vidal – lashed the horse thief’s body securely to the mustang. Wallace then laced Vidal’s head, sombrero and all, to the horn of the saddle. The three men then stepped back to admire their work. Before them, the lifeless and headless body of the king of South Texas horse thieves sat bolt upright on the back of a stallion so wild that Satan himself could not ride him. Bigfoot Wallace would declare years later that he had seen many pitching horses, but had never witnessed any other animal act like that black stallion with the dead horse thief on his back. After the mustang had pitched, bucked, snorted, squealed, pawed the air, and reared up and fallen over backwards, it seemed to accept its fate and fled into the Texas wilderness away from its tormentors and into legend.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">It is often said that even the hardest to believe legends contain within them a grain of truth. Such is the case with the tale of the Headless Horseman of the Nueces. The witnesses were telling the truth; the rider was real. Perhaps it is a lesson we should recall when confronted with something that seems unbelievable today. Maybe we should pause before dismissing the outrageous claims of a witness who insists they saw a black panther, a wood ape, or some other creature that is not supposed to exist. Maybe we can treat those witnesses with respect and dignity and help them get to the bottom of what they saw.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;">Well, it’s just a thought.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><u>Source:<o:p></o:p></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><u><o:p> </o:p></u></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Dobie, J. F. (Ed.). (1995).<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>I'll Tell You a Tale - An Anthology</i>. University of Texas Press.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-78125837641714517902022-06-05T17:01:00.001-05:002022-06-05T17:01:30.273-05:00Historical Jaguar Sightings in Texas<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">My wife’s birthday was this week. She did not want a traditional gift; instead, she wanted to start redecorating our home (I blame Chip and Joanna of <i>Fixer Upper</i> and Ben and Erin of <i>Hometown </i>for infecting her with this renovation fever). I realized that this was going to cost me a lot more than a pair of earrings and an Olive Garden dinner but I love my wife and, begrudgingly, had to admit that a bit of “modernizing” was probably in order. The work started today with the arrival of a crew who were charged with painting the kitchen, dining room, bedrooms, and living room. I, of course, said that there was no need to hire painters as I could do the work myself. My lovely wife replied, “Honey, I don’t want you to spend your summer off working on the house. Why don’t you go get some writing done at the library?” Translated, this means, “I don’t want this job to cost twice as much as it should have after you mess it up and we have to hire these guys anyway. Now, make yourself scarce.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Though deeply wounded (not really, but still…), I was glad to have blundered into a free afternoon and did, indeed, make my way to the Townsend Memorial Library on the campus of the University of Mary Hardin-Baylor. While not a large library, Townsend does have a robust folklore section and I am nowhere close to having gone through it all. As I sat down with a copy of <i>From Hell to Breakfast,</i> a collection of old Texas tales published in 1944, I came across a chapter titled “Panther Yarns.” Intrigued, I dug in and started reading. For the most part, I did not come across anything I was not already familiar with in regard to historical Texas panther sightings. I did some pretty exhaustive digging into this topic while researching my book <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1938398904/theanomalist" target="_blank">Shadow Cats: The Black Panthers of North America</a></i> several years ago. Still, I read on hoping to come across something new. Luck was with me as I came across two accounts with which I was not familiar. While not true black panther accounts, the two news articles do document the killing of two very large spotted cats that I suspect were jaguars (one of the suspects in the black panther mystery since they carry the genetics for melanism). <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuItU_Q1wWkZVNp_9Rp71FOQ0Xhsg3PvaC9eamPcQHnAcfvcUIsG8salEYi9cAPefs3rHcoz7Z5KgjdYS3YiJ9_VtO5fuqEWbqBoygwLWUpmkcOiACIijccj0SwPR6AWadmhx991Y7WoAMF3BnMmWADqeyY_DM0lITSm8qTZsn3uY_-y-pu9LXfw13g/s445/Tigre%20mask.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="321" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuItU_Q1wWkZVNp_9Rp71FOQ0Xhsg3PvaC9eamPcQHnAcfvcUIsG8salEYi9cAPefs3rHcoz7Z5KgjdYS3YiJ9_VtO5fuqEWbqBoygwLWUpmkcOiACIijccj0SwPR6AWadmhx991Y7WoAMF3BnMmWADqeyY_DM0lITSm8qTZsn3uY_-y-pu9LXfw13g/w290-h400/Tigre%20mask.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The first tale comes from an 1854 newspaper account detailing an encounter with a “Mexican Lion,” one of the terms Texans in the 1800s used to describe jaguars (“Mexican Tiger” or “Mexican Tigre” were also used periodically). Following is an excerpt from the article:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i>MEXICAN LION - We wish to inform you of a varmint of awful size, that was taken in camps, or killed, as I should say, at the above named place (Hays County), on the night of the 15<sup>th</sup>. It came down in the settlements of Blackwell’s Valley, and surprised the natives by taking a two-year-old hog out of the pen, (fat at that) and carrying it off. Its pursuers were Mrs. Stockman, Mrs. Thomas, and Miss Winters, who, with the aid of some dogs, caused it to take a tree; after which Mrs. Stockman procured a gun, and made an attempt to shoot it. When in the act of firing, the Mexican Lion - for this is the name of the animal – made a spring at her; she dropped the gun without firing, just in time to save herself from his claws…Mr. J.H. Blackwell, with his dogs, came to their aid, and made it take a tree again. When just in the act of shooting, it made a second attempt to spring on its assailants, but Mr. B., more fortunate than Mrs. S., fired and brought the monster to the ground, dead. It measured nine feet in length, three and a half in height, and weighed 220 pounds. Its claws were two inches in length, and its teeth about the same. The skin, claws, and teeth of the animal can at any time be seen at my residence, on the Blanco, fifteen miles above San Marcos.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i> G.W. Blackwell<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i> </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">The second article comes from a story printed in the <i>Telegraph and Texas Register</i> on December 31, 1840. The article describes a “leopard.” I strongly suspect what was seen was actually a jaguar. Following is an excerpt from this article:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i>Texian Leopard - We were shown a few days since the skin of a leopard which was killed near Bexar (San Antonio), some weeks since. The animal to which the skin belonged must have been about ten feet long from the tip of its nose to the end of its tail, and his body of proportional dimensions. The skin is beautifully variegated with black spots, upon a yellowish brown and white ground; and so closely resembles the skin of an African Leopard, that it would be difficult to distinguish it, if found among several skins of that animal. Many persons in the United States have doubted that statements made by travelers that the leopard exists in Texas; but if they could visit Bexar and its vicinity, their skepticism would soon vanish. It is said that great numbers of those Leopards are found in the vicinity of the Nueces and the Rio Grande…<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">I think it is safe to assume that the “Mexican Lion” in the first account and the “Texian Leopard” described in the second article were almost certainly jaguars. Though the sizes described seem unusually large – mainly in length – every other characteristic mentioned fits the jaguar perfectly (I think the unusual lengths mentioned could be due to the skins of the animals having been measured and not the actual animal). These accounts solidify what we already knew: jaguars were once native to Texas and more numerous in the southern reaches of the state (or in the case of the second account discussed above, the Republic). <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj807abmcbi5Lihrq1IjkM7Zc5sIRpTaVzpKfu_Oj4KBapBqQMm9kzoKYAMhDVne9H4I97tFGNLEHB0bCQRB-vkRbdSSx_13C3pq8x2ihTcWZxp39nFscCiIWyH23THr_Ydv0ChJI5CQmszP0wd4hedyiu3LfOsOx6_VrtC5DbILpqGLGt__wO72UDGjA/s484/Comparison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="317" data-original-width="484" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj807abmcbi5Lihrq1IjkM7Zc5sIRpTaVzpKfu_Oj4KBapBqQMm9kzoKYAMhDVne9H4I97tFGNLEHB0bCQRB-vkRbdSSx_13C3pq8x2ihTcWZxp39nFscCiIWyH23THr_Ydv0ChJI5CQmszP0wd4hedyiu3LfOsOx6_VrtC5DbILpqGLGt__wO72UDGjA/w400-h264/Comparison.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">I have long felt that jaguars were the number one suspect in the Lone Star State’s black panther mystery. Jaguars fit the size profile most often reported (6+ feet in length nose to tail, 100-150 lbs, etc.), are native to the region, and also can be black (melanistic). The two articles provide more evidence – anecdotal though it may be – that early Texas settlers and residents in the 1800s were encountering jaguars. If so, it is possible a remnant population, one in which melanism has taken hold, lives here still and is responsible for at least some of the black panther sightings that Texans continue to report to this very day.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Now, back home I go. If I beat my wife back to the house, I might add my own little touch to the redecorating. Maybe a nice jaguar mural on one wall would look good…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;">Source:<o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Boatright, M. C., & Day, D. (1944). <i>From hell to breakfast</i>. Texas Folk-Lore Society. </p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-72497900976227662112022-06-02T12:26:00.001-05:002022-06-02T12:29:40.744-05:00Book Announcement<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;">It has been too long since I posted here on the blog; however, I am happy to say that I have not been idle during my time away. For the last year, or so, I have been trying to finish up my latest book project. It has pretty well eaten up all of my “free” time but I am happy to say that the book is now complete and mere days away from being available to the public.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="line-height: 28px;">Valley of the Apes: The Search for Sasquatch in Area X </span></i><span style="line-height: 28px;">chronicles my time in the North American Wood Ape Conservancy, the evolution of the group from its old TBRC days, the difficulties inherent to hunting the most elusive animal on the North American continent, and the amazing events/encounters experienced by NAWAC members in the eerily named Area X and other locations over the last decade.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;">I truly enjoyed reliving the many incredible events documented in the book – many of which I had not thought about in years - and hope that, even in a small way, my efforts help in legitimizing the efforts to document this most amazing creature. Perhaps a primatologist, wild life biologist, or famous naturalist – should any deem the book worthy of reading – will see similarities between the wood ape behaviors documented and the behaviors of the known great apes. If so, maybe it will give them pause and cause them to consider the possibility that the existence of the sasquatch is not so outlandish after all. If my efforts help remove even a small part of the stigma associated with seriously researching this topic, then I will consider the book a success.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;">A guy can hope, right?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 28px;">*Check here on the blog, the Texas Cryptid Hunter <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063254106625" target="_blank">Facebook</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/tcryptidhunter" target="_blank">Twitter</a> pages, and my personal author's page (<a href="http://michaelcmayes.com">michaelcmayes.com</a>) for updates on when <i>Valley of the Apes: The Search for Sasquatch in Area X</i> is available for purchase.<o:p style="font-size: 14pt;"></o:p></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-19384933282204909822022-01-09T21:23:00.000-06:002022-10-08T17:06:31.179-05:00Sasquatch Classics: Daniel Boone and the Yahoo<div style="text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Daniel Boone was born on November 2, 1734 near the present-day town of Reading, Pennsylvania. The sixth of eleven children born to Squire Boone and the former Sarah Morgan, he would go on to earn great fame as a hunter, soldier, politician, statesman, woodsman, and guide. To this day, his is a household name that inspires images of trailblazing adventure and life on a frontier now long gone. Volumes have been written on this legendary figure’s life and of late, I have read through several tomes about this American legend. While doing so, one incident related by the great man himself kept popping up that seems to have been given short-shrift by each his biographers: Boone’s claim that he once shot and killed a ten-foot tall, hair-covered beast, called a “yeahoa” or “yahoo,” in the region that would one day become Kentucky or West Virginia.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8R2x5I8qsasNFg3CrUClQg85uMdsTV8llown5AtQfGB6QbRceZ6MRIMc3xyBhKismMth3NAe1apHaTR4vO96dh6SVxpCb6I9mPNsSVMPfsINKujBD2qe7QzphTk-1yOE7B_AzdSmhyCEseoJTUJnaCfZ-Ta66vCsi22mcX3NRRQV2XMl--KclXfJoSw=s422" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="422" data-original-width="279" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8R2x5I8qsasNFg3CrUClQg85uMdsTV8llown5AtQfGB6QbRceZ6MRIMc3xyBhKismMth3NAe1apHaTR4vO96dh6SVxpCb6I9mPNsSVMPfsINKujBD2qe7QzphTk-1yOE7B_AzdSmhyCEseoJTUJnaCfZ-Ta66vCsi22mcX3NRRQV2XMl--KclXfJoSw=s320" width="212" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> It is easy to see why a biographer of Boone would not know what to think about such a claim. The man did not suffer fools gladly, nor did he tolerate being thought of as one. This is obvious to anyone who reads about how Boone handled being dragged through a humiliating court-martial in 1778. Though he was found not guilty - and was even given a promotion in rank after the court heard his testimony about the matter in question – the frontiersman remained bitter about the entire affair and rarely spoke of it. The grudge against his accusers is one Boone held until the day he died. Yes, Boone was very conscious of his reputation and public image. That being the case, it seems odd he would make a claim as bizarre as having killed a monster.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> Some biographers go into more detail than others about the alleged incident; however, all seem to agree on the basic details of how the story came to light. Late in his life, Boone was holding court with a group of distinguished citizens at a dinner held in his honor at an inn in Missouri. At the conclusion of the meal, a question-and-answer session of sorts seems to have taken place. It was at this time that one of the men in attendance asked for a story. It is unclear if the gentleman asked for the particular yarn he ended up hearing or if Boone decided on the tale to be told. Either way, the story Boone shared was one of having come upon and shooting a ten-foot tall, hair-covered “yahoo” in the Appalachian wilderness many years before. The old frontiersman did not get too deep into the tale before one of the men listening laughed out loud and declared the story “impossible.” Accounts indicate that Boone was deeply offended and refused to continue despite the requests of the others in attendance. The awkwardness of the situation led to the premature end of the get-together and people began making their exits. After most of the others had left, the innkeeper’s son petitioned Boone to finish. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">“I would not have opened my lips had that man remained,” said Boone. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">“Well, we are alone now,” the boy replied. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">The frontiersman is said to have smiled wryly before saying, “You shall have it…” and finishing the story for the lad and the few holdouts who quietly made their way back into the room once it was obvious the story-telling had recommenced.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgunSsv3CBtyYU5rAKj_G8iBX1UWede1uH0geYMgJ3mOhc8ilIcE2GqSgCl5b3M0tPyrULr5cuZua-eTLu3tIIRm8DzwfUSqBPpA9FOEO_rIcKvG18aw5bUL2H6OIVAYzgDyxtNuR44FF88_pmi6yqf6KleSsSJQPbb_ho6ZEUyzznAlxLEbgv1wi_qgA=s423" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="244" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgunSsv3CBtyYU5rAKj_G8iBX1UWede1uH0geYMgJ3mOhc8ilIcE2GqSgCl5b3M0tPyrULr5cuZua-eTLu3tIIRm8DzwfUSqBPpA9FOEO_rIcKvG18aw5bUL2H6OIVAYzgDyxtNuR44FF88_pmi6yqf6KleSsSJQPbb_ho6ZEUyzznAlxLEbgv1wi_qgA=s320" width="185" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> While Boone never received much in the way of formal schooling – and his spelling was notoriously “creative” – he read well. His early favorites were history books. It is also said Boone took a strong liking to <i>Robinson Crusoe. </i>Later, two books dominated the frontiersman’s reading time: the Bible and <i>Gulliver’s Travels</i>. Written by Irish writer and clergyman, Jonathan Swift, <i>Gulliver’s Travels</i> became an instant hit upon publication in 1726. Most likely think they are familiar with the plot of <i>Gulliver’s Travels</i> in which the main character finds himself shipwrecked on the shores of an island nation called Lilliput and is taken prisoner by a horde of the island’s tiny inhabitants. It is true this is the most well-known part of Swift’s masterpiece; however, the tale of Lemuel Gulliver’s trials and tribulations among the Lilliputians is just part of the overall work. It is actually the story of Gulliver’s fourth voyage that concerns us in regards to the tale told by Daniel Boone.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> In Part 4 of the book, titled “A Voyage to the Country of the Houyhnhnms,” Gulliver – who has tired of his life as a surgeon – returns to the sea as captain of a merchant vessel. After several crew members die, Gulliver hires replacements out of Barbados and the Leeward Islands. Unfortunately, the new hires turn out to be buccaneers and soon mutiny. The pirates strand Gulliver on the first piece of land they come across and sail away in his ship. It is now that the story becomes relevant to the Boone tale as the fictional Gulliver soon encounters some terrifying creatures:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">“At last I beheld several animals in a field, and one or two and deformed, which a little discomposed me, so that I lay down behind a thicket to observe them better…their heads and breasts were covered with thick hair, some frizzled and others lank; they had beards like goats, and a long ridge of hair down their backs…they often stood on their hind feet…”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Another passage reads:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">“My horror and astonishment are not to be described, when I observed in this abominable animal, a perfect human figure: the face of it indeed was flat and broad, the nose depressed, the lips large, and the mouth wide…the forefeet (arms) of the Yahoo differed from my hands in nothing else but the length of the nails, the coarseness and browness (sic) of the palms, and the hairiness of the backs. There was the same resemblance between our feet, with the same differences…the same in every part of our bodies except as to the hairiness and colour (sic)…I never saw any sensitive being so detestable on all accounts; and the more I came near them the more hateful they grew…”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Daniel Boone was intimately familiar with the yahoos described in <i>Gulliver’s Travels</i>. If he had ever come into contact with a huge, hair-covered, human-like beast in his years of traversing the American wilderness, calling the beast a <i>yahoo</i> – based on the description of the creatures written by Swift – seems natural enough. To this day, the names <i>Yeahoh</i> and <i>Yahoo</i> are used to describe sasquatch-like creatures said to roam the mountains and forests of Appalachia.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Critics say Boone’s tale of shooting a bigfoot-like creature is just a campfire story meant to entertain his rapt followers who hung on his every word. Boone biographer, Robert Morgan, would seem to concur and wrote, “He (Boone) was also known to tell tales about encountering great hairy monsters like the yahoos in <i>Gulliver’s Travels</i>. Most likely it never happened.” It is hard to blame Morgan for having doubts about such a fantastic claim, but he dismisses the tale without any elaboration. While the story might be hard to take at face value, Morgan himself writes about the integrity of Boone and how much he valued his reputation. It would seem proper for the author to explain why the famous woodsman would veer from his character and fabricate a story about having killed a monster, especially when it seems all scholars agree regarding how offended the frontiersman became when his story was challenged.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLniNob6lyz1ePXyKJmsMRJEWD78QKnGUguN6OAAaAczkXhwDYLM9wGj6qMVeaC_e7nd6PNFgZY3TuUgo38R4vP4wmVmh1XoP28BPElPpynmBlZR9y7zM5Jts2SOcHt_IunrOSyKukIwAVI60EHRGwj6DZJKUNgwp1tVgmXlEy0OX7l2PyjMKYjgH4hg=s572" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="572" data-original-width="387" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLniNob6lyz1ePXyKJmsMRJEWD78QKnGUguN6OAAaAczkXhwDYLM9wGj6qMVeaC_e7nd6PNFgZY3TuUgo38R4vP4wmVmh1XoP28BPElPpynmBlZR9y7zM5Jts2SOcHt_IunrOSyKukIwAVI60EHRGwj6DZJKUNgwp1tVgmXlEy0OX7l2PyjMKYjgH4hg=s320" width="217" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Boone is said to have related the tale of the yahoo on multiple occasions, most often during the last year of his life. Some have speculated that he might have been losing his faculties during his 85<sup>th</sup> and final year on this earth. Others correctly point out that the “deathbed confession” is a real phenomenon. People confess all manner of things when they realize the end of life is near. Such confessions are thought to help alleviate feelings of guilt or regret the dying person may have been harboring during their lifetime. Too, the “deathbed declaration” - when a dying person shares some secret knowledge - is not an unusual occurrence. Usually, these declarations have to do with feelings the dying individual has for another person; however, sometimes knowledge is shared which the person has been holding onto for years, decades even. Such dying declarations have sometimes been used in court as evidence; indeed, at times, the final words of a dying man/woman are given more credence in such a scenario, as common sense would seem to indicate that they no longer have anything to lose or gain by sharing what they know.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">It is true Boone told the story of the yahoo multiple times over his final year(s), but not on his literal deathbed. Still, Boone’s health was beginning to wane and any man once he reached the age of 85 would realize that there was precious little time ahead of him. Too, men of a certain age often get to a point where they could not care less about what others think of them and no longer concern themselves with how they might be ridiculed. Could the knowledge that his time on earth was short have motivated Boone to relate his incredible tale while he still could? Was it important for him to share the story – one he had kept to himself for years – before leaving this mortal plane? Perhaps.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">It is highly doubtful that the truth about whether or not Daniel Boone shot and killed a sasquatch-like creature will ever be known. What is inarguable is that Boone spent more time in the American wilderness than just about any white man who has ever lived. That being the case, if the sasquatch is a real creature, who would have been more likely to eventually come across one than Daniel Boone?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Sources:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Faragher, John Mack.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Daniel Boone: The Life and Legend of an American Pioneer</i>. The Easton Press, 1995.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Morgan, Robert.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Boone a Biography</i>. Recorded Books, 2008.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Mart, T. S.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>The Legend of Bigfoot: Leaving His Mark on the World</i>. Indiana University Press, 2020.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Swift, Jonathan, and David Womersley.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Gulliver's Travels</i>. Cambridge Univ. Press, 2012.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">“Daniel Boones' Sasquatch.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Daniel Boones' Sasquatch Story</i>, enigmose.com/daniel-boone-sasquatch.html.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Peacock, Lee. “Did Pioneer Daniel Boone Really Kill a Bigfoot-like Creature Prior to 1820?”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Did Pioneer Daniel Boone Really Kill a Bigfoot-like Creature Prior to 1820?</i>, 1 Jan. 1970, leepeacock2010.blogspot.com/2017/05/did-pioneer-daniel-boone-really-kill.html.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-46104997154270636542021-11-07T20:25:00.002-06:002021-11-07T20:25:54.399-06:00The Legend of the Belled Buzzard<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Going on ten years ago, I was out checking on some game cameras here in Central Texas. I had placed my cameras along the Lampasas River below the Stillhouse Hollow Dam. My cameras never captured anything unusual while in this location, but I did experience something a bit odd one day while servicing them. I was changing out batteries on one of the cameras when I thought I heard the tinkling of a bell. It was a sound akin to that made by a small, round “sleigh bell.” I turned to look around, but saw nothing. I started to get on with the task at hand when I heard the bell again. This time, the sound seemed to emanate from somewhere above me. I looked up into the trees but saw only a few black vultures (<i>Coragyps atratus</i>) lingering about. The whole thing was a bit odd, but – and you know this if you have followed the blog for any length of time – I have had much stranger experiences while out in the woods so I just finished the chore of refreshing my trail camera. I did not hear the sound again that day, or on any of my subsequent trips to the location, and thought so little of it I did not mention it in the blog post I made later regarding the photos I had captured on that particular set. I had not thought about that day in years, but a recent discovery brought it all back and made me wonder about what I might have heard that day.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Recently, I was thumbing through a book called <i>Unexplained! </i>By Jerome Clark at the Temple Public Library. I was flipping through the usual chapters on the UFOs, sasquatches, yetis, and Loch Ness monsters of the world when my eyes fell upon an entry titled “Belled Buzzard.” Never having heard of such a thing, I began reading. Imagine my surprise to find out that many odd stories have been published over the years – most between 1860 and 1950 – about a “belled buzzard.” Reports spanned the continent from the Dakotas to Florida, but a couple of locales popped up more than any others: Indiana and, you guessed it, Texas.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vqNfAnqFKOX_srGT0roTQR47jyjowvlhPwjaDfoJ-SdANmBP0TJQ7PXtuMSjTNdJ7cNQSiYLcfAsLqjb8ZLS_ogBUrhJeOnyfiAt79TbLdS4EfjEUkeFT1-7PjHhMMnN_KKJHHRw7lfm/s489/Belled+Buzzard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="489" data-original-width="301" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vqNfAnqFKOX_srGT0roTQR47jyjowvlhPwjaDfoJ-SdANmBP0TJQ7PXtuMSjTNdJ7cNQSiYLcfAsLqjb8ZLS_ogBUrhJeOnyfiAt79TbLdS4EfjEUkeFT1-7PjHhMMnN_KKJHHRw7lfm/w246-h400/Belled+Buzzard.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> The origin of the belled buzzard legend is hazy at best. The earliest sightings seem to have occurred in 1869 in Tennessee. These encounters were documented in the <i>Memphis Appeal </i>in the early summer months of that year and the stories were picked up and reprinted by other newspapers across the country. The term <i>belled buzzard </i>is not used in the articles, but related were the tales of two separate accounts where multiple people spotted a buzzard (a colloquial term for a vulture) with a small bell around its neck. The sightings took place on a farm near Burnsville and witnesses described the bird seen as seeming “more than usually wild.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Following are snippets of the earliest Texas accounts I could locate:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Pilot Point, April 25, 1893. “The belled buzzard was seen…by Mrs. Keys and family on their farm near town and as usual it was not accompanied by any of its kind” (<i>Dallas Morning News</i>, April 30)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Erath County, March 18, 1894. “Col. J. L. Hansel…always doubted reports concerning the famous ‘belled buzzard.’ He did not believe until yesterday afternoon that such a buzzard existed. He was out in his yard when above him he heard a bell ringing. Looking up he saw a buzzard with a bell hanging on its neck” (<i>Dallas Morning News</i>, March 20).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Nunn, early June, 1894. “M. K. Ownsly and Will James caught a belled buzzard… The bell was branded ‘J’ and was attached to the buzzard’s neck by a leather collar” (<i>Dallas Morning News</i>, June 15)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Longview, June 27, 1894. “A buzzard wearing a sheep bell was seen by several citizens yesterday morning. The belled buzzard has been seen at numerous places in this state…Mr. O. H. Methvin and his son, over whose corn field he circled several times, thought it was a belled sheep or calf in their corn and tried some time to find it” (<i>Dallas Morning News</i>, June 29).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-BUDXlzjJ2tGBV4HlEtuQRk9NP6zhCPNLj_krIZsNUXuQ57Fb_jyWqlBvsHJ_pkR2omxJqQCQd51ExXnjbPzBI8lYWIy9e7l1CnXchOjzN6f241Y-I5xemgBF1YUrj0CNKrZR-UgSOeb/s767/BV.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="672" data-original-width="767" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-BUDXlzjJ2tGBV4HlEtuQRk9NP6zhCPNLj_krIZsNUXuQ57Fb_jyWqlBvsHJ_pkR2omxJqQCQd51ExXnjbPzBI8lYWIy9e7l1CnXchOjzN6f241Y-I5xemgBF1YUrj0CNKrZR-UgSOeb/s320/BV.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Chatfield, April 3, 1898. “’The belled buzzard’ has been captured. It was caught…last Sunday. The bell consisted of an oyster can securely tied about the bird’s neck with a ten-penny nail as the bell clapper. It was trapped on the farm of Mr. T. B. Roberts, liberated from the burden, which had cut into the flesh, and the bird turned loose. The can is on exhibition at Shook’s drug store” (<i>Dallas Morning News</i>, April 10, quoting the <i>Corsicana Chronicle</i>, Texas).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Woodbury, October 29, 1900. “J. C. Goldfrey…informed The News correspondent that the celebrated belled buzzard spent the day on his farm yesterday. He saw it several times and distinctly heard the bell which he described as having a tin sound” (<i>Dallas Morning News</i>, October 31).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Falfurrias, early February, 1931. “A belled buzzard may be seen daily in the Flowella section…Mrs. J. F. Dawson and her son, Jimmie, were working in the yard…when suddenly they heard the tinkle of a small bell, seemingly out of the blue sky. After straining their eyes in every direction for a short time, they discovered his buzzardship lazily floating along, while with each flap of his wings the little bell tinkled” (<i>San Antonio Express</i>, February 15).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Just where did this belled bird or birds - for surely it had to have been more than one vulture responsible for the plethora of sightings - come from? One of the origin stories that seems the most credible came from physician C. A. Tindall of Shelbyville, Indiana. While being interviewed by an International News Service Reporter in March of 1930, the good doctor – after discussing a recent sighting – said, “It calls to mind an incident that occurred about 1879 or 1880 on the old home farm four miles out of Shelbyville.” Dr. Tindall goes on to say that he and his brothers discovered a buzzard’s nest on the family property and were able to catch a hen guarding her eggs. “We put a sheep bell with a leather strap around the body of the buzzard,” he said. “In front of one wing and behind the other. As the buzzard soared away the bell tinkled.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> The other story of the how the belled buzzard got its start caught my eye as it originates from Belton, Texas. (I teach school in the Belton ISD.) In a 1968 interview with the <i>Belton Journal</i>, eighty-year-old Irma Sanford Eddleman was coerced by her daughter to tell a unique story from her childhood. One day (the specific year is not mentioned), a young Irma and her little brother noticed several vultures circling the carcass of a recently deceased chicken that had been disposed of behind their house. “My little brother and I decided to catch one,” Irma said. “I did. It jerked me almost two feet off the ground, trying to get away, and how it stank. But I held on, and sent my brother into the barn to get a length of wire that had a bell on it. We wrapped the wire around that bird’s neck, and let it go. My father worried for days about a bell ringing up in the air; he could hear it in the early morning up in the sky. My brother and I did not say a word.” Ms. Eddleman went on to express regret for the prank. “I’m not at all proud of that,” she said. “It was the unthinking act of a child, and not a kind one.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> While the origin story of the belled buzzard may be hazy, what can be said for sure is that for the better part of four decades sightings of the unfortunate vulture were reported in newspapers on a semi-regular basis. After that, newspaper stories regarding the famous belled buzzard became increasingly rare, though they never went away completely.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> As might be expected, the belled buzzard achieved something akin to mythical status among rural Americans living through the heyday of sightings. To some, the appearance of this belled vulture was a harbinger of misfortune or even death. In other places, however, the sighting of the belled buzzard was anything but a bad omen. To some, the appearance of the famous bird over a rural homestead was “regarded as an infallible sign that there was to be an addition to the family. Mothers instead of telling their children of the stork’s visit informed them that the belled buzzard was the bearer of the little one” (Philadelphia Record, 1908). The legend became so well-known that a story, written by Irvin S. Cobb, about it was published in the <i>Saturday Evening Post</i> in 1912.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8zkR-XhUoKqY5ljlSODyX-HmZVzEbJyuh7qt0A1YHoA0El5fIXGOUS3d89YeYd7wgpdZ877wxXcuN7EBi_N6UKskPOi-zrau9ATTgnMAXDGxPb_jHtp8itVopnJ3DL-B2VxLOVj7fU_e3/s409/Saturday+Evening+Post.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="272" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8zkR-XhUoKqY5ljlSODyX-HmZVzEbJyuh7qt0A1YHoA0El5fIXGOUS3d89YeYd7wgpdZ877wxXcuN7EBi_N6UKskPOi-zrau9ATTgnMAXDGxPb_jHtp8itVopnJ3DL-B2VxLOVj7fU_e3/w266-h400/Saturday+Evening+Post.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Like today, skeptics abounded during the belled buzzard craze. Witnesses were often ridiculed and public questioning regarding their state of mental health and drinking habits were standard. The possible existence of such a bird was deemed too ridiculous to take seriously and, therefore, had to be figments of fevered/drunken imaginations or outright fabrications. Clark writes in his book, “In 1897, when mystery airships (a late nineteenth-century equivalent to modern UFOs) were reported in various parts of the country, witnesses received the same treatment. In fact, mystery airships and belled buzzards were sometimes mentioned in the same humorous or unflattering sentences.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> As a native Texan, I can tell you that there is no tradition of belling buzzards – nor any other type of bird – here. Neither has it ever been a common practice across the American South or Midwest. I find it plausible – as the previously mentioned origin stories relate - that someone somewhere caught and attached a bell to either a black or turkey vulture at some point as a prank, inadvertently birthing a legend. No doubt, there were some copycats who duplicated the stunt. (It is the only way so many birds could have been seen across such a vast amount of the continent over so many years.) For whatever reason, sightings of belled buzzards are all but non-existent now, but in their day the existence of these mysterious vultures was as hotly debated and controversial as the possible existence of the sasquatch or UFOs are today.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> As I close, my mind once again drifts back to that day along the Lampasas River a decade ago. I heard what I heard and numerous vultures were present. Is it possible the belled buzzard – who may have gotten his start in nearby Belton – had returned home after all these years? Surely, not.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Right?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sources: </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;">Clark, Jerome. <i>Unexplained!</i> Third ed., VISIBLE INK PR., 2012. </p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;">Cobb, Irvin S. “The Belled Buzzard.” <i>The Saturday Evening Post</i>, 28 Sept. 1912. </p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;">“Indiana University Bloomington.” <i>""Belled Buzzard" from Library"</i>, http://webapp1.dlib.indiana.edu/images/item.htm?id=http%3A%2F%2Fpurl.dlib.indiana.edu%2Fiudl%2Flilly%2Fhohenberger%2FHoh006.091.0016. </p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;">Lindaseccaspina, and Lindaseccaspina. “Don't Fear the Cow Bell - the Belled Vulture.” <i>Lindaseccaspina</i>, 31 May 2021, https://lindaseccaspina.wordpress.com/2021/05/31/dont-fear-the-cow-bell-the-belled-vulture/. </p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;"><br /></p><p style="margin-left: 1cm; text-indent: -1cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-11217463380821305252021-03-16T13:32:00.065-05:002021-03-16T16:25:10.899-05:00Once in a Lifetime: Steller's Sea Eagle Spotted in Texas<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Most of us would consider our chances of winning the lottery or being struck by lightning as highly unlikely. The odds of such an event occurring in the life of an individual are ridiculously long. Another event that would carry similar long-shot odds would be spotting a Steller’s sea eagle in south Texas; yet, it appears that event has actually taken place.</span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivjeEcUZ2GELzmwdp7zaFPDTUC9nM0SXDMv-AXmjii1oNdzfoqklDj2alqWdiKWZ9YZiBgIQREshNoUJVs7orBriODYy9H7pQ0gYyssa53qcq7yXAy3GuPc6cjr4DQm5AatjHdXaDXUVWE/s1000/Eagle+correct.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="693" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivjeEcUZ2GELzmwdp7zaFPDTUC9nM0SXDMv-AXmjii1oNdzfoqklDj2alqWdiKWZ9YZiBgIQREshNoUJVs7orBriODYy9H7pQ0gYyssa53qcq7yXAy3GuPc6cjr4DQm5AatjHdXaDXUVWE/s320/Eagle+correct.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The S</span><span style="font-family: arial;">teller’s sea eagle (</span><i style="font-family: arial;">Haliaeetus pelagicus</i><span style="font-family: arial;">) is a striking bird of prey native to coastal northeastern Asia. It is among the largest and heaviest eagles in the world achieving lengths of 2 – 3.5 feet and weighing 11 – 20 pounds. The species sports an impressive wingspan of 7 feet on average though larger eagles are suspected to exist. Unsubstantiated reports of wingspans of up to 9 feet exist and, though not officially recognized, are not thought to be outlandish. When it comes to size, only the harpy eagle (</span><i style="font-family: arial;">Harpia harpyja</i><span style="font-family: arial;">) and Phillipine eagle (</span><i style="font-family: arial;">Pithecophaga jefferyi</i><span style="font-family: arial;">) can give the Steller’s sea eagle a run for its money. The Steller’s eagle is a strikingly marked bird with dark brown feathers, white wings, and a white tail. The beak and eyes of this bird are a bright yellow. The feet, too, are a bright yellow, and sport talons a bit more curved than those typically seen on inland eagles. All in all, this is not a bird that is going to be easily misidentified.</span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The fun started on March 10<sup>th</sup> when a photo of a Steller’s sea eagle was posted on the Facebook page of the Barnhart Q5 Ranch & Nature Retreat. According to the post, the bird was spotted on the Coleto Creek arm of Coleto Creek Reservoir and downstream from the Coletoville Road bridge in Goliad County. The snag on which the eagle was perched has been found and the location verified according to my contacts in the birding community. Those same contacts have told me there is no sign of photoshopping or other doctoring of the original image. More and more of the Texas birding community – who initially scoffed at the possibility of this species being seen in the Lone Star State – are coming around to the likelihood that the sighting is legitimate. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If true, how could a Steller’s sea eagle have gotten so lost? The first possibility is that it did not. Some have speculated that what was seen was a bird that escaped from a zoo or a falconer. It is a theory that would neatly sum up the mystery as to how this eagle ended up at least 5,000 miles from home; however, there are problems with this hypothesis. There are very few Steller’s sea eagles in U.S. collections. According to several veteran Texas birders to whom I spoke, there are less than 20 of these eagles in captivity in the United States. A quick search revealed that zoos in San Diego, Cincinnati, Denver, Boise, Louisville, and New England house specimens. These are some of the heavyweights of the zoo world in North America and not roadside menageries with a ramshackle enclosures that might make escape possible. None of these zoos have reported a missing eagle. These same birders went on to address the falconer theory and said this explanation is unlikely. One said, “It would be an extremely tough bird for a falconer to even obtain.” To sum up, the idea that this bird is an escapee has lost a lot of steam.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnwocQYf_z0fn9q-EvaLTqpsyV_fdwJ4AhMovXy-CTbAGC9fDXqP7teluODWRQt3dacOaWtLA2VwByTmYmYPABxZWEVKAa1e72rE9V7TvJ4YxzJPEgElCDm9cEgpP-JuzSsa6l_iZUb0H/s1001/Denali+correct.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="1001" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnwocQYf_z0fn9q-EvaLTqpsyV_fdwJ4AhMovXy-CTbAGC9fDXqP7teluODWRQt3dacOaWtLA2VwByTmYmYPABxZWEVKAa1e72rE9V7TvJ4YxzJPEgElCDm9cEgpP-JuzSsa6l_iZUb0H/s320/Denali+correct.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If one considers the possibility that the photo is legitimate, we are still left to wonder how and why this magnificent bird got so far off course. While native to eastern Asia, these eagles are occasionally seen on the western-most islands of Alaska. In September of last year, however, an adult bird was seen much farther inland at Denali National Park. At the time, it was considered to be the farthest inland the species had ever been seen. If that bird lingered in Alaska over the following five months, it is possible it was forced south by the brutal Arctic front that recently assaulted Texas and caused so much havoc. If so, now that the weather has warmed, this eagle likely will not be around much longer. That being the case, many Texas birders are racing to the Goliad area as quickly as possible in the hopes of capitalizing on what is almost assuredly a once in a lifetime opportunity to see this eagle.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Another possibility as to how this eagle found its way to Texas is that there is something wrong with it. Occasionally, individual birds lose their ability to navigate properly. It is almost as if their internal compass suddenly ceases to operate correctly. This loss of navigational ability has led to sightings of species far outside of their normal ranges. One such recent example is the case of a great black hawk (<i>Buteogallus urubitinga</i>) – a bird that is native to South America, Central America, and Mexico – that ended up in Maine in 2019. This incident ended on a sad note when the hawk was found near frozen one cold January day. The bird was taken to a rehabilitation center but suffered frostbite on its feet and had to be euthanized. The only explanation for how this species managed to get 2,000 miles from its accepted home range is that something in its internal navigation system went haywire. We can only hope that a happier fate awaits the Texas Steller’s sea eagle.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So, if you are in the Goliad area, you might want to take a ride out to Coleto Creek Reservoir and see if you can catch a glimpse of this magnificent, wayward eagle. While you are out, you might want to buy a lottery ticket as well. As this Steller’s sea eagle has proven, sometimes long-shots pay off.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Sources:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></o:p></p><p style="margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Steller's sea eagle. (2021, March 02). Retrieved March 16, 2021, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steller%27s_sea_eagle<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Facebook. (n.d.). Retrieved March 16, 2021, from https://www.facebook.com/BQ5RANCH/photos/a.2097168407009460/4136167156442898/<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Great black hawk. (2021, March 15). Retrieved March 16, 2021, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_black_hawk<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Maine's great Black Hawk - rescued! (2019, January 31). Retrieved March 16, 2021, from http://www.10000birds.com/maines-great-black-hawk-rescued.htm</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-50035581577515384922021-01-11T21:53:00.007-06:002022-01-16T11:02:10.684-06:00The Missionary, the Former Slave, and the Sasquatch<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">What do an eighteenth-century Jesuit missionary and a former slave from the state of Arkansas have in common? I hate to disappoint any of you that thought this might be the opening line to a bad joke, it is actually a legitimate question. Read on for the answer.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">In my mind, some of the strongest sources of anecdotal evidence regarding the existence of the sasquatch are those that pre-date the coining of the term <i>bigfoot</i> in an article about a catskinner named Jerry Crew - who found massive human-like tracks around his road-building equipment in California’s Six Rivers National Forest in August of 1958 - and the explosion of the Patterson-Gimlin footage on the world stage in October of 1967. Sightings reported before these two seminal events cannot be dismissed as the work of hoaxers seeking to hop on the bigfoot bandwagon. The sasquatch was all but unknown to the Europeans who began flooding the North and South American continents in the 1500s…and to the slaves that they brought with them. Their accounts of bipedal, hair-covered creatures simply cannot be dismissed out of hand. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">I would like to discuss here two such historical sightings. The incidents are not well-known, but they may well be extremely important when attempting to trace just how far back sightings of wood apes might go. The similarity between these two accounts cannot be denied and both lend credibility to the opinion of those who believe the animal commonly referred to as bigfoot was being seen well before the 1950s by people of different cultural backgrounds living many miles apart.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIpPpcApmjhGJws1JUvmPo3PokdbGorCcR_xt7HxVuoq5dULHXtywsATcvLZD3zXelm5KgOqmtvmCSn6SLXKNv8eJyshzZ4uM4GvESNhQOHRBJUtvg2B_2plYlPW35qy2sTRLPtUTLbG2O/s696/Pfefferkorn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="460" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIpPpcApmjhGJws1JUvmPo3PokdbGorCcR_xt7HxVuoq5dULHXtywsATcvLZD3zXelm5KgOqmtvmCSn6SLXKNv8eJyshzZ4uM4GvESNhQOHRBJUtvg2B_2plYlPW35qy2sTRLPtUTLbG2O/s320/Pfefferkorn.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">The first incident comes directly from the writings of a Jesuit missionary who worked among the people of the province of Sonora, Mexico – a region that stretched up from northwest Mexico to the Sierra Madre from Cjeme (now Ciudad Obregon), near the California coast, to Tuscon - in the eighteenth-century. Father Ignaz Pfefferkorn (b. 1725), a German Jesuit lived and worked among the Pima Indians from 1756 to 1767. Details of his work and life among these people can be found in his <i>Descripcion de la Provincia de Sonora</i>. The diaries, journals, and logs of missionaries have long been highly valued by anthropologists and historians. Pfefferkorn’s work was no different and he is considered by academics to have been an extremely reliable and credible observer. His writings continue to be cited by historians to this day. Among Pfefferkorn’s writings were descriptions of the local wildlife. Among the descriptions of what would be considered common animals, the good father wrote about the different bears (differentiated by their color) found in the region. He wrote:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i><span style="font-family: Courier;">“Of the Sonora bears some have black hair, others dark gray, and the smallest number are a reddish color. These last are the most cruel and harmful, according to the statements of herdsmen.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Only two species of bear are known to have ever lived in the Province of Sonora during the eighteenth-century. The black bear (<i>Ursus americanus</i>) and the grizzly (<i>Ursus arctos horribilis</i>) both made Sonora part of their home range during the time in question. While black bears can be black, blonde, or reddish, it is likely the cinnamon-colored bears that were “the most cruel and harmful” were grizzlies. While these grizzlies were likely the animals most often responsible for the killing of livestock in the region, some of the other activities attributed to them may well have been the work of something else.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Pfefferkorn, while documenting bear activity related to him by the indigenous tribesmen, in some cases may have actually been recording accounts of bigfoot interaction with humans. If so, his accounts are some of the earliest ever written down in North America. One intriguing passage is below:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i><span style="font-family: Courier;">“Bears are a special menace to stock raising, for they eat many a calf, and, if no smaller prey falls into their clutches, they will attack even horses, cows, and oxen. They delight especially in eating maize as long as it is still tender and soft. Woe to the field if a hungry bear breaks into it at night. He eats as much as he can and makes off with as much as he can grasp and carry in his mighty arms. In so doing he ruins even more of the field by breaking it down and treading upon it. The inhabitants assert that a bear defends himself by throwing stones when one attempts to chase him away and that a stone hurled from his paws comes with much greater force than one thrown from the hand of the strongest man.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">I do not think I have to tell anyone that a bear cannot throw stones; nor is it capable of walking bipedally in order to carry off large amounts of corn in its “mighty arms.” Pfefferkorn was familiar with bears. He had traveled across the region for many years and had seen many bruins. Pfefferkorn even witnessed a grizzly kill his Indian guide on one trip across Sonora (the guide had attempted to kill the bear, succeeded only in wounding it, and paid the ultimate price when the animal turned on its tormentor). This being the case, it is strange that Pfefferkorn would attribute rock-throwing and the ability to carry large amounts of corn away while walking on two legs to grizzlies. I think it is entirely possible that the stone-hurling, corn-stealing, bipedal “bears” of Sonora might have actually been wood apes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">A strikingly similar account comes from another historical source: a former Arkansas slave. Doc Quinn was one of the oldest living residents of Miller County, Arkansas (yes, the same Miller County that would become known as the home of the Fouke Monster of <i>The Legend of Boggy Creek</i> fame) when he was interviewed by Cecil Copeland at his home in Texarkana in the 1930s. Doc recalled when he was first brought to the plantation of one Colonel Ogburn – between Index and Fulton on the Red River - that there was a section of the property dominated by an immense canebrake. This canebrake was a favorite retreat of bears and other wild animals. It was all but impossible to go in after problem bears that would steal out of the thicket at night and take livestock, so the plantation owner had the slaves round up the hogs and animals and place them in pens at the end of the day. Several slaves were charged with standing guard at night over the domesticated animals. The efforts of the slaves helped somewhat, but bears were still seen often and some of their actions “were almost human.” The following is a passage taken from the book <i>Bearing Witness: Memories of Arkansas Slavery Narratives from the 1930s WPA Collection </i>in which Doc Quinn describes to Cecil Copeland the odd behavior of a “bear” he came across in a cornfield one day:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i><span style="font-family: Courier;">“The bear picked off an ear of corn and put it in his bended arm. He repeated this action until he had an armful, and then waddled over to the fence. Standing by the fence, he carefully threw the corn on the other side, ear by ear. The bear then climbed the fence, much in the same manner of a human being, retrieved the corn, and went on his way.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Sounds familiar, does it not? The simple truth is that bears cannot stroll around in a bipedal fashion while plucking ears of corn from stalks in the field with one front paw and place them into the crook of their other front “arm.” The description of how Quinn witnessed this animal climb a fence “in the same manner of a human being” is fascinating. The entire incident simply does not describe bear behavior in any form or fashion.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx8K-ak4_TkVS2wSq_1ASxaGG8RQkF1NeFgnZeQqmgJeH3WoVxg8soE3QQq3BsH7Ft7_A8ploofre0xdIg_k2xP879O1SKL95f4CwLk3Afp-z8QAvPE8v60efvAhCaXgV67PpxMdWMUYpw/s679/Arky.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="521" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx8K-ak4_TkVS2wSq_1ASxaGG8RQkF1NeFgnZeQqmgJeH3WoVxg8soE3QQq3BsH7Ft7_A8ploofre0xdIg_k2xP879O1SKL95f4CwLk3Afp-z8QAvPE8v60efvAhCaXgV67PpxMdWMUYpw/w247-h320/Arky.jpg" width="247" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Courier;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span></p></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Quinn provides another interesting anecdote in the same interview. I thought long and hard about including it here, not because it is not interesting (it is), but because Doc Quinn’s words are transcribed in such a way that his dialect is evident. Some hot-button words, including the n-word, are used. After wrestling with it for a while, I decided to include the account here with only one minor edit (I decided not to type the n-word out. I fear in today’s climate, I would be accused of approving of it or some such thing). Again, I would remind readers these are not my words. These are the words spoken by former Arkansas slave, Doc Quinn and transcribed by his interviewer, Cecil Copeland. The text comes straight from the book previously mentioned. Try to focus on the story Doc Quinn is telling and not the language and terminology he uses. The account is as follows: <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i><span style="font-family: Courier;">“Late one ebenin’, me an’ anudder (edit) named Jerry wuz comin’ home frum fishin’. Roundin’ a bend in de trail, whut do we meet almos’ face to face? – A great big ol’ bar! Bein’ young, and blessed wid swif’ feet, I makes fo’ de nearest tree, and hastily scrambles to safety. Not so wid mah fat frien’. Peerin’ outen thru de branches ob de tree, I sees de bar makin’ fo’ Jerry, an’ I says to mahself: ‘ Jerry, yo’ sins has sho’ kotched up wid yo’ dis time.’ But Jerry, allus bein’ a mean (edit), mus’ hab had de debbil by he side. Pullin’ outen his Bowie knife, dat (edit) jumps to one side as de bar kum chargin’ pas’, and’ stab it in de side, near de shoulder. As de bar started toinin’ roun’ to make annuder lunge at de (edit) he notice de blood spurtin’ frum de shoulder. An’ whut do yo’ think happen’? Dat ole bar forgets all about Jerry. Hastily scramblin’ aroun’, he begins to pick up leaves, an trash an’ clamps dem on de wound, tryin’ to keep frum bleedin’ to deaf. Yo’ ax did de bar die? Well, suh, I didn’ wait to see de result. Jerry, he done lef’ dem parts, an’ not wantin’ to stay up in dat tree alnight by mahself, I scrambles down an’ run fo’ mile home in double quick time!”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">I ask you, what kind of bear notices it is bleeding, stops in the middle of an altercation, begins gathering leaves, and then packs its own wound? I will tell you the answer. None. No bear behaves in this manner. If Doc Quinn is not spinning a yarn to his interviewer, the creature his fishing partner, Jerry, tangled with was certainly no bear. Was it an aggressive sasquatch? Certainly, the location was right as the aggressive nature of the Fouke Monster would be well documented some years later. There is a real shortage of viable alternatives if the creature in question was not a bear.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">The parallels between these two accounts – accounts separated by more than a century and approximately 1,400 miles – are uncanny. Bears cannot and do not gather up corn in their “arms” and walk away with it in a bipedal fashion. Yet, a Jesuit missionary and a former Arkansas slave describe observing this same behavior. Doc Quinn’s account of how his fishing partner, Jerry, tangled with an animal that packed its own wound after being stabbed lends credence to the theory that something other than a bear was roaming about Miller County, Arkansas in his youth. Is it possible that these two men from very different worlds - Father Ignaz Pfefferkorn and former slave Doc Quinn - described the same type of animal? An animal they had no name for? An animal that just might have been a wood ape?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Food for thought.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">*Special thanks to NAWAC Chairman Emeritus, Alton Higgins, who authored the article, “A Sonoran Sasquatch,” that I drew heavily from for this post.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;">Sources:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Brown, D. E. (1996).<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>The Grizzly in the Southwest: Documentary of an Extinction</i>. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press.<o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Pfefferkorn, I., Treutlein, T. E., & Pfefferkorn, I. (1949).<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Sonora A Description of the Province</i>. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.<o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Higgins, A. (2010, November 19). A Sonoran Sasquatch? Retrieved January 11, 2021, from https://www.woodape.org/index.php/sonoransasquatch/<o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Lankford, G. E. (Ed.). (2006).</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: -28.35pt;"> </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Bearing Witness Memories of Arkansas Slavery</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: -28.35pt;">. Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press.</span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-78032334860733421942021-01-05T10:50:00.000-06:002021-01-05T10:50:18.171-06:00Frequently Asked Questions Answered<p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">As promised, I am going to attempt to breathe some new life into the blog in 2021 so here we go. I receive a LOT of correspondence and get many questions about a variety of topics. I enjoy getting those emails and messages but I do end up answering a lot of the same questions over and over. That being the case, I thought I would make my first post of the year one in which I addressed the most frequently asked questions I get. Some of the questions are personal in nature while others are more cryptid specific.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question:</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> How did you become interested in cryptozoology?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer:</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> I have been interested since I was a young boy. In the early 1970s, my grandmother took my brothers and me to a movie. I do not recall what the movie was that day, but I do vividly remember seeing the Patterson-</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Gimlin</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> footage in a short feature before it started. I was mesmerized. It just looked real to me. I was hooked from that point forward. Television shows like </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">In Search of…</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> and </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">The</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Six-Million Dollar</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> Man along with movies like </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">The Legend of Boggy Creek </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">only solidified my interests.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">How many people are part of your organization?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">If referring to the </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Texas Cryptid Hunter</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> site, it is just me. I have had some great folks volunteer to visit sighting locations and send me photos from time to time, but there is no membership or staff.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">How long have you been investigating bigfoot and other cryptids?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">I have been actively engaged in field work since 2005.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Are you the same Mike Mayes who is Chairman of the NAWAC?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Yes.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Have you ever seen a sasquatch or another type of cryptid?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Yes. I had a sighting of what I believe was a sasquatch in the Sam Houston National Forest in May of 2005. Since, I have three times caught glimpses of animals I strongly believe were wood apes in the Ouachita Mountains of southeast Oklahoma, including one just weeks ago. I have also seen one of the hairless </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">canines</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> news outlets have taken to calling “</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">chupacabras</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">” and many Texans refer to as “blue dogs.”</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">What do you say to skeptics who deny the existence of the sasquatch or wood ape?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">I find I do not worry too much about what skeptics think. I believe anyone who takes the time to seriously – and that is the key word – look into the bigfoot phenomenon with an open mind will, at the very least, come away feeling that a closer look at the topic is warranted. I fully admit that the evidence is not yet strong enough to conclusively prove these creatures </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">exist (more on that later), but believe a properly funded entity (National Geographic Society, major university, etc.) could obtain concrete evidence if willing to commit the proper resources and time.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Many scientists deny the existence of bigfoot because they have spent many years in the field and have never seen one. How is it that they have never had a sighting?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">How did the okapi stay hidden so long? The truth is that practically no one is looking for the sasquatch. Even field biologists spend most of their time in labs or at universities. The actual amount of time in the field for most is usually pretty limited and they tend to be funded by grants that dictate the specific research they are to be conducting. There is no time or money for “bigfoot hunting.” I would add the majority of witnesses state something along the lines of "I've hunted for X years and never seen anything like that" or "I've lived here my whole life and have never seen anything unusual." These animals are extremely furtive and these sorts of statements are the norm rather than the exception. Most people who spend time in the woods won't see them.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">With all the trail and surveillance cameras out there, why are there no photos of wood apes?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Most trail cameras are placed by hunters watching feeders and/or food plots. Even these cameras are rarely left up </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">year round</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">. There are often regulations that limit how long cameras are allowed to be left up on public land. Too, these cameras are rarely deep into the wilderness where I believe these animals spend most of their time. A hunter typically places his cameras no more than 100-300 yards off a road or an ATV trail. As for surveillance cameras, there are not many of them out in the middle of the forest. Having said that, there are at least a few extremely compelling images and videos that have been captured. The fact that they have garnered so little attention from the scientific community proves that no photo or video will ever be enough to get this species officially documented.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Why have we not found the body/bones of a sasquatch?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"></span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Nature simply does not allow a body to last very long. In a true wilderness, environmental factors like temperature, humidity, insects, scavengers, and acidic soils work to “clean up” a body very quickly. Think about how often the body of a bear or mountain lion – two species that are almost certainly more prolific than wood apes – that died of </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">natural</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> causes are found in the woods. The answer, of course, is almost never. Consider, too, that many animals often seek the most remote and inaccessible location possible when they are sick or injured (think about a sick dog that hides under the porch of a house). Should an animal die in one of these locations, the chances of a human hiker or hunter finding it are pretty small. I do feel it is possible bones have been found and were misidentified and left behind due to their not being thought of as anything special. Outside of a skull or pelvis, most bones are not easily identifiable to laymen.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Do you believe it is necessary to collect a specimen in order to prove the species exists?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Yes, I do. It may be unsavory to many – and I understand that – but science requires a body. It really is that simple. A compelling photograph or an anomalous DNA sample might get </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">the attention of some in the scientific community, but for the species to be officially recognized, it will take a specimen. That is just the way science works.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">If bigfoot is an endangered species, won’t collecting a specimen increase the odds of </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">of</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> it going extinct?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">No, I do not believe that. The collection of one individual should have no effect on the entire population of animals. The key here is to think in terms of a population as opposed to thinking of an individual. Collecting one – and one is all I would approve of - in order to save the population is worthwhile. The government will never set aside preserves or sanctuaries or legally protect the wood ape until it moves from the realm of myth and cable television into the pantheon of known and documented creatures. If the collection of one specimen is enough to send the species spiraling into the abyss of extinction, the animal is functionally extinct already.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Question: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Why don’t you just try to tranquilize a specimen and capture it instead?</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Answer: </span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">The short answer is that such an undertaking is immensely complicated, expensive, and dangerous. Tranquilizing an animal – especially one as large as most wood apes are reputed to be – is an extremely dicey undertaking. I think it would be all but impossible. For more on this topic, listen to the latest episode of the NAWAC’s official podcast, </span><span class="s3" style="font-style: italic; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">The Apes Among Us</span><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">, titled “<a href="https://nawac.podbean.com/e/exploring-alternative-paths-to-discovery/">Exploring Alternative Paths to Discovery</a>.”</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">As you can see, most of the questions I get are in regard to the bigfoot phenomenon. The sasquatch remains the undisputed “king of the cryptids” when it comes to public interest. For more answers to the most commonly asked wood ape questions, see my <a href="http://texascryptidhunter.blogspot.com/search/label/Sasquatch%20FAQ%20Series">Sasquatch FAQ Series</a>.</span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span></p><p style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Check back soon as I have several other posts in the works including new black panther reports, historical bigfoot sightings, and an update on the NAWAC’s “Hadrian’s Wall” camera project.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-43596279344653961652020-08-20T19:38:00.016-05:002022-01-16T11:01:41.145-06:00Sasquatch Classics: The Leflore County Bigfoot War<p><span face="" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif;">The telling of scary stories around a campfire is a tradition that is likely nearly as old as mankind itself. While tales of ghosts, goblins, and murderous psychopaths can rattle the cage of nearly anyone, what better subject for a campfire story could there be than a cannibalistic and murderous sasquatch? The story of a haunted house might be creepy, but unless you are actually staying in the house in question it is easily and quickly forgotten once the marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers appear at the fire. Tales of a creature – a creature many people regard as being real – stalking the very woods in which you have pitched your tent, however, are not always so easy to put aside. One such terrifying tale is the story of a “bigfoot war” that allegedly took place in eastern Oklahoma during the mid 1850s.The story of the LeFlore County bigfoot war is one I have heard bits and pieces of through the years. I finally decided to look into the matter, gather as much information as I could, and make a determination as to whether the tale might have some truth to it or was an outright fabrication. Following is what I was able to find out.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT2HrYZORdNCrAPtDOYtZvVjaLj2ISHQr8SA0drMiQxX1L5Jjvq6Su2TybjkmvJoyHxPX99Gem8wkdSpqZkzxJygu3tKLKKsX1DvnO6GClI4HbANlOiXuVT1_eD86j06TuNai1hMV9P2ul/s596/LeFlore.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="578" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT2HrYZORdNCrAPtDOYtZvVjaLj2ISHQr8SA0drMiQxX1L5Jjvq6Su2TybjkmvJoyHxPX99Gem8wkdSpqZkzxJygu3tKLKKsX1DvnO6GClI4HbANlOiXuVT1_eD86j06TuNai1hMV9P2ul/w371-h382/LeFlore.jpg" width="371" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">It is said that in or around 1855, a band of Choctaws in what is now LeFlore County and farmers in what is now Arkansas were experiencing some terrifying events. It all began in a rather benign way with the theft of vegetables, a few head of livestock, and other foodstuff by stealthy bandits in the night. The thieves were cagey, quiet, and never seen. They were also smart, as somehow they never ventured into Choctaw encampments on nights when a watchman was in place. Neither did the bandits ever fall into the traps set for them by farmers outside of Indian Territory. Those charged with finding and capturing these marauders began to develop a begrudging respect for the wiliness of their adversaries as time went by and the petty thefts continued. While the thefts were annoying and did cause some hardships, neither the Choctaw or the neighboring Anglo farmers were afraid of the food bandits; however, things changed once women and children began to go missing.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Spurred by reports of these kidnappings, a group of 30 Choctaw cavalrymen was organized to hunt down the abductors. The group was led by Joshua LeFlore, a man of mixed Choctaw and French blood, who was deeply respected by his fellow tribesmen. Also joining the search party was a Choctaw warrior named Hamas Tubbee and his six sons. The Tubbees were huge men – all approaching seven feet in height and weighing in at more than 300 pounds each – and were regarded as fierce warriors and expert horsemen. The Tubbees were so effective in mounted warfare that despite their massive size, they became known as the “Lighthorsemen.” The contingent of searchers, armed to the teeth, set out into the region known today as the McCurtain County Wilderness Area to search for the kidnappers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKT__BWDfaBHLJf6dwf0S8UoYTTZlK0TSPczXLiwXJD_CU8l0TZkc-B0YdZMNTGGrLyfjKsBzLWzHuUmqzwYsRzUrt_pMTw5w66H2nNENWQ1W7a8musTHWUVJgUuJMMuhdXRR4AO90O9vI/s735/Abduction.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="437" data-original-width="735" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKT__BWDfaBHLJf6dwf0S8UoYTTZlK0TSPczXLiwXJD_CU8l0TZkc-B0YdZMNTGGrLyfjKsBzLWzHuUmqzwYsRzUrt_pMTw5w66H2nNENWQ1W7a8musTHWUVJgUuJMMuhdXRR4AO90O9vI/w410-h244/Abduction.jpg" width="410" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">After riding all day, the searchers finally arrived in the area where they believed the bandits to be hiding. LeFlore brought his troops to a halt, stood up in his stirrups, and surveyed the area with a spyglass. It is unclear exactly what LeFlore saw but whatever it was, he ordered his men to charge toward a stand of pines roughly 500 yards distant. LeFlore and the Tubbee men led the attack. As the troops closed the distance between themselves and the stand of pines where the kidnappers were thought to be hiding, they were assaulted by a tremendous stench, the unmistakable odor of decay and decomposition. The horses of most of the men began to buck and rear, tossing their riders. Only the mounts of LeFlore and the Tubbee men were disciplined enough to remain composed, allowing the eight men to continue through the pines. As the men cleared the small wooded patch they came upon a large earthen mound. Scattered across the mound were the bodies of children and women in various stages of decomposition. LeFlore and the Tubbees caught a glimpse of a number of the murderers fleeing into the tree line on the opposite side of the mound. Only three of the killers stood their ground to meet the charge of the “Lighthorsemen.” It was at this time that the cavalrymen realized they were not going up against any human foe; rather, standing before them, snarling and beating their chests, were three huge, hair-covered creatures. Despite what must have been a shocking sight to him, LeFlore drew his pistol and sabre, spurred his mount, and charged. As LeFlore approached the nearest ape, it took a mighty swipe and struck his horse in the head, killing it instantly. LeFlore managed to roll off the falling horse, quickly jumped to his feet, and fired multiple shots into the chest of the creature. Once his pistol was empty, LeFlore attacked the ape with his sabre, opening up gaping wounds on the animal which roared in rage and pain.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">LeFlore’s assault on the creature was so quick, and the shock of seeing hair-covered monsters so great, that the Tubbee men hesitated, completely stupefied, before entering the fray. This delay allowed one of the other two apes to get behind LeFlore, who was intensely focused on the ape he had engaged. The second beast grabbed LeFlore’s head with two huge hands and ripped it from his shoulders. The horrible sight jolted the Tubbee warriors into action and they opened fire on the three sasquatches with 50-caliber Sharp’s buffalo rifles. Two of the beasts were killed instantly, dropping in their tracks. The third creature was wounded but turned and fled before the lethal shot could be fired. Robert Tubbee, only 18 years old but already 6’ 11” and well over 300 pounds, spurred his horse, ran down the injured ape, and dispatched him with his hunting knife.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">As the rest of the troop, after gathering their panicked horses, joined them, the “Lighthorsemen” surveyed the area. The bodies of dead women and children, most partially devoured, littered the area. The smell of decay, along with the terrible odor of the beast’s feces, caused many of the men to vomit. After composing themselves, the men gathered the remains of the unfortunate women and children and buried them. They also buried their leader, Joshua LeFlore. As for the three ape-like monsters, their bodies were placed upon a huge bonfire and burned. Their hellish task complete, the Choctaw warriors returned to Tuskahoma, where it is said even the mighty Tubbee men were plagued by terrible nightmares for years afterward.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Some story, is it not? But is any of it true? While I could not find much, it does appear the Tubbees existed. So, too, did a man named Joshua LeFlore. What I could not find was any mention – at least in any official documents – that Leflore died in battle. For that matter, I have been unable to find any information leading me to believe that the LeFlore County bigfoot war took place anywhere outside of the realm of folklore.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTjznazMPDWF3R1sXrVOp3BPKSeaKBCFGU7IdoVonsAxHzLsZjG7z8B-VGC6cZlRcSJfr3k29XbAcTxr4o3q10tU6yZG48vTtcRdW6SfZ3rh93MrAStswaVttNPvCdPqbx2czn4s-j92M/s980/Map.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="980" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTjznazMPDWF3R1sXrVOp3BPKSeaKBCFGU7IdoVonsAxHzLsZjG7z8B-VGC6cZlRcSJfr3k29XbAcTxr4o3q10tU6yZG48vTtcRdW6SfZ3rh93MrAStswaVttNPvCdPqbx2czn4s-j92M/w329-h221/Map.jpg" width="329" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Having said that, is it possible that the LeFlore County incident was actually based on a real event that took place in a different location? According to a bigfoot researcher named Jim King, the answer might be yes. King believes the LeFlore County story is based on an event that took place much farther west in Kiowa territory, an event related to him by an Indian elder. According to the story, Kiowa women were placed in a special teepee or tent on the edge of camp when they started their menstrual cycle. The women stayed there, being tended to only by older women, until their cycle was complete. The elder told King that women were considered “unclean” during their cycles and Kiowa warriors were not only forbidden any physical contact with the females during this time, they were not even to look upon them (This seems harsh but it not too different than the way many cultures treated menstruating women in the past.) The elder said that once, long ago, there had been trouble with ape-like creatures who were attracted by the scent and pheromones emanating from the tent where the menstruating women were housed. Since the tent was on the edge of the encampment, it proved to be an easy target for renegade apes who are said to have entered and carried off women on several occasions. To make a long story short, the Kiowa leadership decided this was unacceptable and put together a group of warriors to hunt down the kidnappers. The searchers did manage to track an ape back to its lair and killed not only it, but an entire family unit.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Could the LeFlore County story have its roots in the tale told to Jim King by the Kiowa elder? Is there any truth at all – even the smallest of grains – in either tale? I have heard many put their faith in the LeFlore County version simply due to the name of the unfortunate Joshua LeFlore. “They wouldn’t have named the county after him if it wasn’t true,” and other similar statements abound. I, however, have not been able to find anything saying LeFlore County was named after Joshua LeFlore. According to the Oklahoma Historical Society’s website, “The name honors the prominent LeFlore family of the Choctaw Nation.” Could Joshua LeFlore have been one of the “prominent LeFlore family?” It is certainly possible, but there does not seem to be any documentation singling out Joshua or his actions as the reason for the naming of the county. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The story of the LeFlore County bigfoot war, even if totally fictional, does seem to point to the fact that enormous, hair-covered, ape-like animals have been thought to reside in the region for a very long time; a time long before the Patterson-Gimlin film brought bigfoot into America’s consciousness. Add this to the beliefs of many other Native American tribes from across the North American continent who have long told stories of these creatures snatching women and children and the anecdotal evidence stack grows taller. Truth be told, the idea of child- or woman-snatching sasquatches continues to thrill, terrify, and enthrall us to this very day. One needs to look no farther than the success of David Paulide’s <i>Missing 411</i> books to confirm this.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">It may very well be the tale of the LeFlore County bigfoot war was inspired by actual, less dramatic events (think the siege of Honobia, the Ape Canyon incident, etc.) Over the years, such a story would be embellished and grow to mythic proportions. It is all but inevitable as a good scary story is irresistible. Do not be too hard on those who might have added to the original facts. After all, we all know the most frightening types of campfire stories will always have one thing in common…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">...they could really happen.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Sources:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">The LeFlore Horror/Bear [Radio series episode]. (2018, April 18). In<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>World Bigfoot Radio #53</i>.<o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Swancer, B., & Seaburn, P. (2018, June 06). The Strange Case of the Human-Bigfoot War of 1855. Retrieved August 21, 2020, from https://mysteriousuniverse.org/2018/06/the-strange-case-of-the-human-bigfoot-war-of-1855/<o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Nashoba, D. T. (2002, January 6).<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>The Legend of Sacred Baby Mountain</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>[Scholarly project]. In<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Google Groups</i>. Retrieved August 20, 2020, from https://groups.google.com/g/alt.bigfoot.research/c/tD56ttwlfik?pli=1<o:p></o:p></p><p style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; margin-left: 28.35pt; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -28.35pt;">Le Flore County: The Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History and Culture. (n.d.). Retrieved August 20, 2020, from https://www.okhistory.org/publications/enc/entry.php?entry=LE007<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-28010701572932422992020-07-20T20:52:00.000-05:002020-07-20T20:52:19.144-05:00Catching Up: Previously Unpublished Black Panther Sightings<div class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">
While it is true that I have not blogged much over the last year or two, reports of “black panthers” have continued to reach my inbox. I feel the need to catch you all up on a few of the more compelling sighting reports I have received during my “away time.” Following are some of the reports I found the most interesting. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-style: normal;">Before we get into the reports, however, I must – once again – post the disclaimer that I know there is no such thing as a “black panther” according to mainstream science. The panthers of the movies and television (think </span><i>Jungle Book</i>) are either melanistic leopards or jaguars. Neither of those species is known to inhabit Texas, the American South, or parts farther west or north. Still, the reports of black, large, long-tailed cats have continued. Documenting and charting the location of the most credible reports is part of my ongoing effort to answer one simple question. What are the black panthers of North America?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb68oeC_yHdS8tI59WDLcZ11Z0aDbXNtnaNMS2pFTbSAdKsqBarEsu-qn8FZ5pWjfGOE91qlDcJfo53-ThLi2zSeGjV4dHNpMx_9bCc8idbT3_Y8W_WfjxJ__fSt3lHiPCpwMd4wew9yPd/s1600/Palestine+Photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="799" data-original-width="913" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb68oeC_yHdS8tI59WDLcZ11Z0aDbXNtnaNMS2pFTbSAdKsqBarEsu-qn8FZ5pWjfGOE91qlDcJfo53-ThLi2zSeGjV4dHNpMx_9bCc8idbT3_Y8W_WfjxJ__fSt3lHiPCpwMd4wew9yPd/s400/Palestine+Photo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Reported 1/28/17</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>“As you can see, this pic was taken by my game camera. I thought you might enjoy seeing it. It was taken on my ranch near Palestine. It’s not a hog, dog, calf, or goat, so if not a black cat, what the heck is it? FYI, the winch on the tri-pod is 42” high.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><i><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Ken Broom</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>TCH Comment:</b> <i style="font-weight: normal;">What the heck is it?</i> Is a valid question in this case. Ken’s assertion that the animal is not a hog, dog, calf, or goat may be spot on, but the photo is so dark that a definitive identification simply is not possible. That being the case, I have not added this report to my black panther sightings distribution map. I decided to post here today as photos are always fun to examine and analyze. Let the debate begin…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Reported 2/23/17</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><i><span style="color: black;">“</span><span style="color: black; font-family: HelveticaNeue;">Hello, my name is Taylor and I'm writing on behalf of my mother, Amanda. On Feb. 23 2017 at 1:00 a.m., my mother saw a very large black cat matching the description of many other sightings near Oak Leaf Road and Lakeview Drive in Conroe, Texas. This is a residential area with a lot of livestock. I was not in the car with her but she's asked me to tell the story as your website popped up when we were researching these sightings.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cccccc; color: black; font-family: HelveticaNeue;"><i>They have always been a sort of urban legend in this area for at least the last decade, if not more, and other family members have sworn up and down they've seen something. I didn't quite believe it until my mother called me in shock.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cccccc; color: black; font-family: HelveticaNeue;"><i>She was driving down Oak Leaf Road and was taking the last sharp curve before her turn when she saw a very large dog in her lane. She slowed down to less than ten miles per hour and drove around it into the left lane. This is a very narrow country road and she didn't have a lot of space because the dog would not move. That is when she realized that it was not a dog. She described it as a black panther (I believe she saw a melanistic black jaguar) that was standing on four paws with its head raised, very alert. She drives a Honda Civic, a small sedan, and said that he was so tall his head was level with her passenger window and they made eye contact. He did not flinch or move to avoid her car - he showed absolutely no fear. She said that he was very muscular and healthy and had long, shiny whiskers and chin whiskers. She described him as having a broad face, short ears, and thick tail.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cccccc; color: black; font-family: HelveticaNeue;"><i>I think it's an incredible story and I don't think she would have mistaken it for a mountain lion/cougar. We have had close encounters with cougars before and she is positive that she saw what is colloquially referred to as a black panther. Hopefully this account interests you.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: HelveticaNeue;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--></i></span><span style="color: black; font-family: HelveticaNeue;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><i>Taylor and Amanda</i></span><span style="background-color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b>TCH Comment:</b><span style="font-weight: normal;"> This one is really very simple; if events unfolded the way they have been reported, there is practically no chance of mistaken identity. I find no reason to doubt the story as it has been related. Yes, most of the time an animal in the road will yield to an oncoming vehicle and move away, but not always. I have had to slowly drive around dogs, cats, and deer on occasion because they would not move. It happens. The area where the sighting took place, while residential, is not your typical suburban neighborhood. There remain a lot of heavily wooded acreage in the area and the east fork of Crystal Creek runs just to the south of the sighting location. The area is just south of the Sam Houston National Forest, an area from which many black panther reports have originated. I find the account plausible and have added it to my black panther distribution map.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b>Reported 9/10/17</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>“<span style="color: #1d2228;">In the early 1960s, two of my uncles worked security at the chemical plant<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>near Bloomington, TX (in those days it was owned by Dupont). This area<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>around the Guadalupe River as it reaches the Gulf is swampy and, in those<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>times, was sparsely inhabited. The plant itself is next to a barge canal on<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>a large tract of low, wooded land. Its abundant wildlife included deer and<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>razorbacks, which kept the local black panther that lived on the plant<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>land well fed.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>Company officials speculated that someone must have released an exotic pet<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>here. Sightings of this big cat were so common that Dupont employees<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>became nonchalant about having a potentially dangerous predator<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>on the property. Uncle Al said he once saw the cat with a whitetail in its<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>mouth, dragging the dead animal like it was no more than rag doll.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>In 2005 I went to the plant to see if company newsletters from the 1960s<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>still exist, hoping to read about Dupont's pet cat. But Union Carbide<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>bought the plant long ago. Nothing from that era was saved.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>In retrospect I concluded the Dupont animal was a melanistic jaguar that<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>had roamed up the coast from the Rio Grande valley. In colonial Texas,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>jags lived all along the Gulf up to the Sabine. Locals called them Mexican<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>tigers. There is a daguerreotype photo from the 1840s of a saloon in Fort<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>Bend county that displayed the skin of a spotted jag on its wall.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><b>TCH Comment:</b> Bloomington sits in Victoria County and is now considered part of the greater Victoria metropolitan area. As of the 2010 census, only 2,459 people lived in Bloomington. In the 1960s there would have been far fewer people in the area. The land is low in elevation and often marshy; typical Texas Coast geography. There would be plenty of game for a big cat to subsist on including hogs, deer, and nutria. I find the story J.M. relates very plausible and know other black cat sightings have come from the area; however, the story is second hand in nature. Therefore, I have to leave it off of my distribution map.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><b>Reported 9/14/2017</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>“So, I was reading your posts about black panthers. We got this from our game camera just a few days ago. Unfortunately, it's the back end of the animal, but you are welcome to make your own deductions. Also sending you a photo of my 6-year-old for size comparison, he is 4 feet tall. Photos taken in Bonham, TX; a culvert in a feeder creek.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>Send us your thoughts.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i><br /></i><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><i>- Janene Thomas</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cccccc; color: #1d2228;"><b>TCH Comment:</b> Bonham sits in Fannin County adjacent to the Red River in north Texas. The area has produced black panther reports before. The photo is interesting. The animal is undeniably black and – using Janene’s son as a reference – almost 2 feet high (I chose not to publish the photo of Janene’s young son. You’ll just have to take my word on the size comparison). The tail does not appear as long as what many witnesses report but is thick and has a rounded tip. The tails of most dogs are more pointed at the tip. While the photo is intriguing, ultimately it is inconclusive. The trigger speeds of most game cameras are slower than I would like and result in many photos of the back ends of animals walking by. The curse of the slow trigger speed seems to have struck again with this photo. That being the case, I have to leave it off my distribution map.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cccccc; color: #1d2228;"><b>Reported 4/22/18</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: #cccccc; color: #1d2228;">“Greetings Michael!!</span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>This is Tom Riley, your classmate of NHS '85. I got your book off Amazon for my Kindle Fire and I loved it! It brought back memories and stories that I never gave much account to until I saw your research. Fascinating. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>I wanted to relate to you a few anecdotes of my, and my family's, experiences with the famed "Shadow Cats." As I was relating the content and context of your book to my wife, she reminded me of her father's account with a Shadow Cat. Back in the early to mid 80's my father-in-law (Donald Richard, now deceased) was a partner in Eelee's restaurant located under the Rainbow Bridge on hwy 73 in Port Arthur. Donnie was the man who developed the menu and all the recipes - as well as procuring the fresh seafood that was brought directly to the dock adjacent to the restaurant. They processed their own seafood daily right on the riverfront. He would tell us about the black cat that would show up around dusk or a little after looking for easy pickings. I remember I commented that cats running around a seafood place is not a big deal, his response was that the cat was almost a big a me! He related that the staff and boat owners all knew about the big cat and would drop deformed flounder, crabs and turtles in a pile for it to eat about 50 yards down river of the restaurant. Many regulars would comment about sightings over the years. It was just accepted. No big deal. What was it? Who knows. It was big, black and stealthy. It kept mainly to the marshy area south of the restaurant mostly. Reading your book reminded us of the encounter. A <a href="https://www.panews.com/2017/07/26/captain-james-lester-j-l-lee/" style="color: #954f72; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #196ad4;">Mr. James Lester "JL" Lee</span></a> was the other partner in the restaurant endeavor and unfortunately he passed away last year.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><b>TCH Comment:</b> I heard some of these same stories as my friend Tom back in the mid-to-late 1980s and early 1990s regarding big black cats roaming the marshes around the Neches and Sabine Rivers. The restaurant my old classmate mentions was well-known and popular back in the day. It sat at the foot of the famed Rainbow Bridge that spans the Neches River between Port Arthur and Bridge City. This is the point where the Neches and Sabine Rivers empty into the brackish waters of Sabine Lake which ultimately pours into the Gulf of Mexico near Sabine Pass. The entire area is one huge marsh and supports much wildlife. The Lower Neches Wildlife Management Area sits on the Bridge City side of the famed bridge that sports a vertical clearance of 177 feet (tall enough to allow the tallest ship in the U.S. Navy at the time it was built to pass under it). Despite Tom’s report being second hand in nature, I am going to make an exception to my rule and add it to my black panther sightings distribution map. I do this for two reasons: I heard some of the same accounts he did as a high schooler and Tom is a man of impeccable character with whom I have enjoyed a long personal relationship. He would not steer me wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><b>Reported 5/26/19</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><i><span style="color: #1d2228;">“Hello. My name is Barb. I live in the Texas panhandle, the forgotten part of Texas. I am sending 2 articles from 2000 or 2001 regarding a big black cat seen in the Howardwick/Clarendon area.</span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i><span style="background-color: #cccccc;">My longtime boyfriend, Dennis, says he saw a large black cat about a week after the Brass Lantern restaurant sightings, in a locust grove, near his home on the Britten Ranch, which is 3 miles north of Howardwick.</span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>He and I both know the difference between a mountain lion and bobcat. We grew up in the country, study wildlife, and have taken the Texas Master Naturalist classes. We used to spend a lot of time on area ranches, arrowhead hunting, and have seen bobcats and a couple of brownish-tan mountain lions. He saw a melanistic bobcat years ago when he was a young man. So, given his background, I assure you his big cat sighting was not a bobcat or an overgrown feral cat. According to him, there were many more sightings than what the newspapers covered.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>I have bugged Dennis for a long time to find these old newspaper articles. The author David Stevens contributed regularly to the </i>Amarillo Globe News<i> newspaper. The other article came from the </i>Clarendon Enterprise<i> newspaper.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>Thanks.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><i>I have listened to you on a podcast and am reading </i>Shadow Cats<i>. Great book.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;"><b>TCH Comment:</b> Clarendon and Howardwick sit in Donley County in the east-central portion of the Texas Panhandle. The area is sparsely populated and dominated by the oil/natural gas and cattle ranching industries. There is plenty of room for a big cat to roam and plenty of prey species in this wide-open area of Texas. The Salt Fork of the Red River and Carrol Creek run through the area and are dammed to form the Greenbelt Reservoir. These water features, along with Kelly Creek a bit farther south would provide ample water and travel corridors for a predator.The sightings referenced by the newspaper accounts and that of Barb’s boyfriend Dennis would be far from the first to come from this lonesome part of Texas. While Barb’s account is of a second hand nature, I found - after doing a bit of research - the spate of “black panther” sightings in the area was well documented. I have decided to include one “pin” on my black panther sightings distribution map to represent this flap of sightings from the early 2000s.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9U9NrztQgs_Gv9r71mpjUVNwIo2mK64-lHxebIu8T2aLAgV6y_wEt0g6haYbvQ0l5077pGezXm9n8exiSiJQmiVzOhQtO1cWlA-DPLnLr8u5d4nT1KLrINPT9tr4SfFQ5-u6YA1qWJMfO/s1600/Clarendon+Enterprise+article+from+the+early+2000s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="989" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9U9NrztQgs_Gv9r71mpjUVNwIo2mK64-lHxebIu8T2aLAgV6y_wEt0g6haYbvQ0l5077pGezXm9n8exiSiJQmiVzOhQtO1cWlA-DPLnLr8u5d4nT1KLrINPT9tr4SfFQ5-u6YA1qWJMfO/s400/Clarendon+Enterprise+article+from+the+early+2000s.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;">I have a few other intriguing sighting reports that I need to post but this gets me started on the road to catching up. Please continue to send in your sighting accounts of “black panthers” to <a href="mailto:Texascryptidhunter@yahoo.com" style="color: #954f72; text-decoration: underline;">Texascryptidhunter@yahoo.com</a>. In addition, I am seriously considering starting a new camera-trapping project. If you have seen these cats on your property and would be willing to allow me to place cameras, please let me know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;">If you would like to learn more about the black panther phenomenon and my thoughts on it, contact me for a copy of my book, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1938398904/theanomalist">Shadow Cats: The Black Panthers of North America</a></i>. I would appreciate it.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;">To peruse my freshly updated black panther sightings distribution map, click <a href="https://www.google.com/maps/@31.097112,-102.202563,6z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m2!6m1!1s1WWB_ZWiaXzMegwsCTXpn059ok7k?authuser=2">here</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228;">More soon.</span></div>
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</style>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-54994606762909021492020-07-04T12:07:00.001-05:002020-07-04T12:07:27.555-05:00What Happened to Dennis Martin?<div class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">
The loss of a child might be the most devastating of all tragedies. It is every parent’s greatest fear, and the burden of protection – perhaps the most important of parental duties - weighs heavy on those of us blessed enough to have children. The loss of a child leaves the bereaved parents not only reeling from grief but from guilt, the guilt that they have failed in their most sacred of duties: protecting their offspring. In most cases, the parent has nothing to feel guilty about. Accidents do happen, no matter how careful we try to be. Children sometimes simply do not listen to or follow the directions of the adult figure in their lives which sometimes leads to their demise. Certainly, no parent should ever blame themselves should their child develop cancer or some other insidious disease. Still, the parents of lost children often feel they have done something wrong or that they could have done something differently. If they had, they reason, their child would still be alive. The pain of loss dulls over time to some degree, but the guilt seems to be there always, just beneath the surface waiting to bubble to the top if given even half a chance. These are the thoughts that passed through my mind as I revisited one of the most puzzling missing persons cases in U.S. history: the disappearance of Dennis Martin.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjrJ-zYLauKvzhgHp_qXMbXPKQrPazcMP-5A_XwEzDu2DUZFJoDpbmULvnQuT1M-vmx1EDkkIrGz5QVy-D-7GXqF8t1_Abc90ZT4N1RFxB_oWh5oUiD3uDf_29GdkAAnrzVCSf93i8UHb/s1600/Dennis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="662" data-original-width="440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjrJ-zYLauKvzhgHp_qXMbXPKQrPazcMP-5A_XwEzDu2DUZFJoDpbmULvnQuT1M-vmx1EDkkIrGz5QVy-D-7GXqF8t1_Abc90ZT4N1RFxB_oWh5oUiD3uDf_29GdkAAnrzVCSf93i8UHb/s320/Dennis.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
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It was the summer of 1969 when Bill Martin decided to take a Father’s Day weekend camping trip. It would be a trip for the men of the Martin family and a time to get back to nature. Bill loaded up his father, Clyde, his oldest son, Doug (9 yrs.), and Dennis, who was less than a week away from his seventh birthday, and headed for Great Smoky Mountains National Park. The Martin men spent the first night of their trip at the Russell Field shelter. Early on the morning of June 14<sup>th</sup>, the group hiked west for two miles until they reached their destination: Spence Field. Spence Field was a grassy area running east to west on the main Great Smoky ridge. The Appalachian Trail and the Tennessee/North Carolina border run along the apex (4,800 ft. above sea level) of the field. Streams and creeks on the north side of the ridge drain into the Volunteer State while water courses on the south side of the ridge descend into North Carolina. The area features steep slopes, deep ravines, fast moving creeks, and scores of laurel and rhododendron vines, but the grassy and flat Spence Field seemed benign enough on this sunny and cloudless day. That being the case, the group settled into a shelter cabin on the western end of the campground.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After putting their gear away, Bill and his father sat contentedly and watched the boys, who had found two play mates from another family camping nearby (coincidentally, this other family also had the last name of Martin). The men watched as the group of young boys came together in the tall grass and whispered to each other. Then, almost like a football team breaking a huddle, they sprinted off in two different directions: Doug and his two new friends ran to the wood line to the south, Dennis, alone, ran into the woods to the northwest. The boys had planned a prank on their father and grandfather. They decided to run into the woods, sneak up behind the men, and then jump out and startle them. Why one of the three other boys did not go with Dennis has never been clear. What is clear is that after Dennis ran into the woods that afternoon, he would never be seen again. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Doug and his two friends carried out their plan and sprang from the woods to “scare” Bill and Clyde. Dennis did not. The men and the boys waited between three and five minutes – thinking Dennis might have misunderstood the timing of the prank – before becoming concerned. Bill, Clyde, and the other boys set off to look for Dennis but found no sign of the young boy. Calls went unanswered, the only noise was the wind whistling through the forest canopy as a storm approached. After searching on their own for over an hour, Bill Martin managed to report his missing son to park authorities. The reaction was swift with several park Rangers responding but their efforts were stopped short when a ferocious thunderstorm rolled into the area. Spence Field received between 2.5” and 3” of rain over the next several hours. Hail fell from the heavens in some spots. The streams and creeks in the area rose quickly and were described as “high and turbulent” in the official incident report. No sign of young Dennis was found. Bill, Clyde, and Doug had to sit and wait out the storm knowing Dennis was out there somewhere alone.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The initial search the following day consisted of upwards of 50 people ranging from Park Rangers to maintenance personnel. Also joining the effort were members of the Sevier County Rescue Squad, the Blount County Rescue Squat, and the Smoky Mountain Hiking Club. The searchers began combing drainages in the area. Rain continued to fall intermittently, washing away potential tracks and sign, winds kicked up and the temperature dropped into the 50s, increasing the chance of the boy becoming hypothermic. The searchers beat the bushes until well past dark. There was no sign of Dennis. </div>
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<span style="font-style: normal;">As word of the missing boy got out, more and more people made the trek to Spence Field to help. The number of searchers would swell to 1,500 before the operation was called off. It would become the largest search in National Parks history with the volunteers investigating at least 50 square miles. No one found any sign of the boy. Some believe the search party became too large and unwieldy. Clay Jordan, Deputy Park Superintendent, in a 2019 interview with </span><i>USA Today </i>said, “Today, we would not have anywhere near that number (searching).” The hearts of the people who showed up to help were in the right place but looking back, far too many well-meaning but inexperienced volunteers were allowed to participate. It is quite possible that some sign left by the boy was trampled by people who did not know what to look for. In addition to the mistake of allowing too many novice searchers to participate, officials decided, due to the prolific rainfall, not to call in dogs to search for Dennis’s scent. The officials were likely correct in that Dennis’s scent near Spence Field was likely washed out, but he was still out there somewhere and should have been creating new scent trails search dogs might have been able to lock on to (These and other miscues have been used as teaching tools ever since for search and rescue teams in training). Even so, the fact that absolutely no sign of the boy was found was shocking. “Something should have been found,” said Dwight McCarter, a veteran tracker and retired Smokies Ranger struck by the complete lack of sign.<o:p></o:p></div>
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By the second day of searching, Bill’s wife and Dennis’s mother, Violet Martin, had arrived on the scene. She was devastated by the developments but hopeful. “I have a feeling we’re going to find him,” she said. “Maybe God sent this ordeal to us so we could appreciate things more.” Others, however, were beginning to lose hope. Some searchers were told surreptitiously to start closely examining any bear, coyote, or bobcat scat. Others were dispatched to areas where vultures were spotted circling. The hours and the days dragged on, still no Dennis.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The first of several self-proclaimed psychics chimed in on Wednesday, June 18<sup>th</sup>. The Martins, and to some degree Park authorities, did not dismiss the visions of these seers outright. The areas recommended by the clairvoyants were all dutifully searched. “I believe some people have the ability to see or predict things,” said Bill Martin at the time. Whether the Knoxville-based architect had given any thought to such matters prior to the disappearance of his son remains unknown but desperation had set in and all involved wanted to leave no stone unturned in the hunt for Dennis. One such example came from a Mrs. Schwaller of Linden, Michigan who contacted authorities to say Dennis would be found in a spot “near a stream by a small waterfall with white pine trees in the area.” Unfortunately, like other visions reported by the various psychics who contacted authorities, this description was so vague that it could have been applied to hundreds of spots in the region. Still, the parents grabbed on to each of these visions as if they were life rings and the searchers did their best to check them all out. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-style: normal;">Excitement was briefly aroused on the fourth day of searching when volunteers located a set of faint child-sized tracks about a mile from Spence Field. After examination, authorities dismissed them as having been made by members of a Boy Scouts troop that was searching the area. Potentially, this was yet another missed lead. Tracker Dwight McCarter, still aggravated about the way the tracks were dismissed, would tell </span><i>USA Today</i> 50 years later, “They didn’t find tracks from a bunch of kids. They found tracks from one kid.” It will never be known with any certainty who made those faint impressions or what they might have led searchers to discover. Later, Dennis’s seventh birthday would come and go (June 20<sup style="font-style: normal;">th</sup>) without any trace of him having been found.<o:p></o:p></div>
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On June 23<sup>rd</sup>, the Spartanburg, South Carolina Police Department provided a “police dog” to help in the search. According to the official report, “The search met with negative results.” The description of the canine as a “police” dog and not a "search" dog could be simply a semantic error or it could be significant as not all police dogs are trained for search and rescue. Other dogs were called in – far later than they should have been - but they fared no better. Rumors began circulating from the beginning that the dogs were not attempting to find Dennis’s scent and failing; rather, they were refusing to track at all. The canines, so the story goes, simply sat down and whined, refusing to work. This is one of the big factors that has set off the “high strangeness” radar of so many, however, I simply cannot say whether it is true or not. I found references to dogs not being successful, but never found any source that stated the dogs refused to track.</div>
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<span style="font-style: normal;">Fate can be cruel and she turned especially so on June 24<sup>th</sup>. Searchers came across a young man wearing a red t-shirt and green shorts (the same color of shirt and shorts Dennis had been wearing when he vanished) walking the perimeter road of the Cades Cove campground. It turned out the boy’s name was Michael Devlin and he was camping in the area with his parents. The parents agreed to change the boy’s shirt so as to avoid any future confusion. On the 26<sup>th</sup>, a man called in to Carson Brewer of the </span><i>Knoxville News-Sentinel </i>and told him to inform the searchers to “Look in the trees and treetops. Stop looking on the ground.” Did this caller have some kind of inside knowledge of the case? Was he another alleged psychic? We will likely never know. This cryptic phone call is another of the strange details surrounding the case that just does not sit right with many.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The official search would end on June 29<sup>th</sup>. Unofficial efforts would continue into September. The Martin family, refusing to believe their son was dead – in their defense, no body, blood, or any other spoor that might lead to that conclusion was ever found – put up a $5,000 reward for information leading to the return of their son. Authorities never bought in to the Martin’s kidnapping theory, but could not dismiss it outright either. In any case, the reward remained unclaimed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The scope of the search for Dennis Martin has given pause to some. Never before had such a large force of government resources been used in a missing persons case. Between the National Parks Service employees, various county rescue squads, and military personnel involved, nearly 30,000 man-hours were invested in the search. This total does not include private citizens who volunteered their time. It is the involvement of those military personnel that has raised suspicion among many that something unusual, something other than the disappearance of a small boy, had occurred at Spence Field that June day in 1969. While it is not unusual for the National Guard to help in such matters, I have been told it is highly unusual for a regular military outfit to do so, much less a Special Forces unit like the Green Berets. The story was they were in the area on a training exercise and were instructed to come help in the search. As a non-military person, this did not seem like anything unusual to me but I have since been told by friends in the military that this simply does not happen. A bit of research revealed that the Green Berets are considered a Special Operations Force of the U.S. Army and exist to deploy and execute “nine doctrinal missions,” none of which include search and rescue operations. Digging a bit deeper, secondary missions sometimes taken on by U.S. Special Forces include, among others, combat search and rescue, hostage rescue, and manhunts. This being the case, perhaps the involvement of the Green Berets is not as strange as it at first seems. Other details, however, do lend an air of mystery to their presence. Many witnesses claim the “special ops guys” were standoff-ish, unfriendly, and “did their own thing,” which intimates a lack of communication and coordination with the other searchers. In addition, multiple reports state that these military units were armed with rifles while conducting their searches. This does sound unusual to me but I have been unable to absolutely confirm this assertion. I have seen photos of military personnel arriving at Spence Field but have not seen any weapons.<o:p></o:p></div>
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One thing that cannot be denied is that the government and the military were heavily involved in the search for Dennis Martin, much more so than any other missing persons case I can recall. A fixed wing plane, multiple helicopters, a dozen jeeps, multiple National Guard Units, and Special Forces were called in. Several military command posts were established that seemed to be working independently of the National Parks Service and FBI. In the official case report on the incident it states that President Nixon was monitoring the situation and wanted to be kept up to speed. The sheer scope of the government and military involvement regarding this event was unprecedented. The question many ask is why? It is true that Tennessee Congressman James "Jimmy" Quillen requested assistance from the government but the sheer scale of the effort would have required much more than a call for help from a Representative. In any case, the military commitment was extraordinary. You can look up all the numbers<a href="https://www.blogger.com/The%20loss%20of%20a%20child%20might%20be%20the%20most%20devastating%20of%20all%20tragedies.%20It%20is%20every%20parent%E2%80%99s%20greatest%20fear,%20and%20the%20burden%20of%20protection%20%E2%80%93%20perhaps%20the%20most%20important%20of%20parental%20duties%20-%20weighs%20heavy%20on%20those%20of%20us%20blessed%20enough%20to%20have%20children.%20The%20loss%20of%20a%20child%20leaves%20the%20bereaved%20parents%20not%20only%20reeling%20from%20grief%20but%20from%20guilt,%20the%20guilt%20that%20they%20have%20failed%20in%20their%20most%20sacred%20of%20duties:%20protecting%20their%20offspring.%20In%20most%20cases,%20the%20parent%20has%20nothing%20to%20feel%20guilty%20about.%20Accidents%20do%20happen,%20no%20matter%20how%20careful%20we%20try%20to%20be.%20Children%20sometimes%20simply%20do%20not%20listen%20to%20or%20follow%20the%20directions%20of%20the%20adult%20figure%20in%20their%20lives%20which%20sometimes%20leads%20to%20their%20demise.%20Certainly,%20no%20parent%20should%20ever%20blame%20themselves%20should%20their%20child%20develop%20cancer%20or%20some%20other%20insidious%20disease.%20Still,%20the%20parents%20of%20lost%20children%20often%20feel%20they%20have%20done%20something%20wrong%20or%20that%20they%20could%20have%20done%20something%20differently.%20If%20they%20had,%20they%20reason,%20their%20child%20would%20still%20be%20alive.%20The%20pain%20of%20loss%20dulls%20over%20time%20to%20some%20degree,%20but%20the%20guilt%20seems%20to%20be%20there%20always,%20just%20beneath%20the%20surface%20waiting%20to%20bubble%20to%20the%20top%20if%20given%20even%20half%20a%20chance.%20These%20are%20the%20thoughts%20that%20passed%20through%20my%20mind%20as%20I%20revisited%20one%20of%20the%20most%20puzzling%20missing%20persons%20cases%20in%20U.S.%20history:%20the%20disappearance%20of%20Dennis%20Martin.%20%20It%20was%20the%20summer%20of%201969%20when%20Bill%20Martin%20decided%20to%20take%20a%20Father%E2%80%99s%20Day%20weekend%20camping%20trip.%20It%20would%20be%20a%20trip%20for%20the%20men%20of%20the%20Martin%20family%20and%20a%20time%20to%20get%20back%20to%20nature.%20Bill%20loaded%20up%20his%20father,%20Clyde,%20his%20oldest%20son,%20Doug%20(9%20yrs.),%20and%20Dennis,%20who%20was%20less%20than%20a%20week%20away%20from%20his%20seventh%20birthday,%20and%20headed%20for%20Great%20Smoky%20National%20Park.%20The%20Martin%20men%20spent%20the%20first%20night%20of%20their%20trip%20at%20the%20Russell%20Field%20shelter.%20Early%20on%20the%20morning%20of%20June%2014th,%20the%20group%20hiked%20west%20for%20two%20miles%20until%20they%20reached%20their%20destination:%20Spence%20Field.%20Spence%20Field%20is%20a%20grassy%20area%20running%20east%20to%20west%20on%20the%20main%20Great%20Smoky%20ridge.%20The%20Appalachian%20Trail%20and%20the%20Tennessee/North%20Carolina%20border%20run%20along%20the%20apex%20(4,800%20ft.%20above%20sea%20level)%20of%20the%20field.%20Streams%20and%20creeks%20on%20the%20north%20side%20of%20the%20ridge%20drain%20into%20the%20Volunteer%20State%20while%20water%20courses%20on%20the%20south%20side%20of%20the%20ridge%20empty%20descend%20into%20North%20Carolina.%20The%20area%20features%20steep%20slopes,%20deep%20ravines,%20fast%20moving%20creeks,%20and%20scores%20of%20laurel%20and%20rhododendron%20vines,%20but%20the%20grassy%20and%20flat%20Spence%20Field%20seemed%20benign%20enough%20on%20this%20sunny%20and%20cloudless%20day.%20That%20being%20the%20case,%20the%20group%20settled%20into%20a%20shelter%20cabin%20on%20the%20western%20end%20of%20the%20campground.%20%20After%20putting%20their%20gear%20away,%20Bill%20and%20his%20father%20sat%20contentedly%20and%20watched%20the%20boys,%20who%20had%20found%20two%20play%20mates%20from%20another%20family%20camping%20nearby%20(coincidentally,%20this%20other%20family%20also%20had%20the%20last%20name%20of%20Martin).%20The%20men%20watched%20as%20the%20group%20of%20young%20boys%20came%20together%20in%20the%20tall%20grass%20and%20whispered%20to%20each%20other.%20Then,%20almost%20like%20a%20football%20team%20breaking%20a%20huddle,%20they%20sprinted%20off%20in%20two%20different%20directions:%20Doug%20and%20his%20two%20new%20friends%20ran%20to%20the%20wood%20line%20to%20the%20south,%20Dennis,%20alone,%20ran%20into%20the%20woods%20to%20the%20northwest.%20The%20boys%20had%20planned%20a%20prank%20on%20their%20father%20and%20grandfather.%20They%20decided%20to%20run%20into%20the%20woods,%20sneak%20up%20behind%20the%20men,%20and%20then%20jump%20out%20and%20startle%20them.%20Why%20one%20of%20the%20three%20other%20boys%20did%20not%20go%20with%20Dennis%20has%20never%20been%20clear.%20What%20is%20clear%20is%20that%20after%20Dennis%20ran%20into%20the%20woods%20that%20afternoon,%20he%20would%20never%20be%20seen%20again.%20%20%20Doug%20and%20his%20two%20new%20friends%20carried%20out%20their%20plan%20and%20sprang%20from%20the%20woods%20to%20%E2%80%9Cscare%E2%80%9D%20Bill%20and%20Clyde.%20Dennis%20did%20not.%20The%20men%20and%20the%20boys%20waited%20between%20three%20and%20five%20minutes%20%E2%80%93%20thinking%20Dennis%20might%20have%20misunderstood%20the%20timing%20of%20the%20prank%20%E2%80%93%20before%20becoming%20concerned.%20Bill,%20Clyde,%20and%20the%20other%20boys%20set%20off%20to%20look%20for%20Dennis%20but%20found%20no%20sign%20of%20the%20young%20boy.%20Calls%20went%20unanswered,%20the%20only%20noise%20was%20the%20wind%20whistling%20through%20the%20forest%20canopy%20as%20a%20storm%20approached.%20After%20searching%20on%20their%20own%20for%20over%20an%20hour,%20Bill%20Martin%20managed%20to%20report%20his%20missing%20son%20to%20park%20authorities.%20The%20reaction%20was%20swift%20with%20several%20park%20Rangers%20responding%20but%20their%20efforts%20were%20stopped%20short%20when%20a%20ferocious%20thunderstorm%20rolled%20into%20the%20area.%20Spence%20Field%20received%20between%202.5%E2%80%9D%20and%203%E2%80%9D%20of%20rain%20over%20the%20next%20several%20hours.%20Hail%20fell%20from%20the%20heavens%20in%20some%20area.%20The%20streams%20and%20creeks%20in%20the%20area%20rose%20quickly%20and%20were%20described%20as%20%E2%80%9Chigh%20and%20turbulent%E2%80%9D%20in%20the%20official%20incident%20report.%20No%20sign%20of%20young%20Dennis%20was%20found.%20Bill,%20Clyde,%20and%20Doug%20had%20to%20sit%20and%20wait%20out%20the%20storm%20knowing%20Dennis%20was%20out%20there%20somewhere%20alone.%20%20The%20initial%20search%20the%20following%20day%20consisted%20of%20upwards%20of%2050%20people%20ranging%20from%20Park%20Rangers%20to%20maintenance%20personnel.%20Also%20joining%20the%20effort%20were%20members%20of%20the%20Sevier%20County%20Rescue%20Squad,%20the%20Blount%20County%20Rescue%20Squat,%20and%20the%20Smoky%20Mountain%20Hiking%20Club.%20The%20searchers%20began%20combing%20drainages%20in%20the%20area.%20Rain%20continued%20to%20fall%20intermittently,%20washing%20away%20potential%20tracks%20and%20sign,%20winds%20kicked%20up%20and%20the%20temperature%20dropped%20into%20the%2050s,%20increasing%20the%20chance%20of%20the%20boy%20becoming%20hypothermic.%20The%20searchers%20beat%20the%20bushes%20until%20well%20past%20dark.%20There%20was%20no%20sign%20of%20Dennis.%20%20%20%20As%20word%20of%20the%20missing%20boy%20got%20out,%20more%20and%20more%20people%20made%20the%20trek%20to%20Spence%20Field%20to%20help.%20The%20number%20of%20searchers%20would%20swell%20to%201,500%20before%20the%20operation%20was%20called%20off.%20It%20would%20become%20the%20largest%20search%20in%20National%20Parks%20history%20with%20the%20volunteers%20investigating%20at%20least%2050%20square%20miles.%20No%20one%20found%20any%20sign%20of%20the%20boy.%20Some%20believe%20the%20search%20party%20became%20too%20large%20and%20unwieldy.%20Clay%20Jordan,%20Deputy%20Park%20Superintendent,%20in%20a%202019%20interview%20with%20USA%20Today,%20%E2%80%9CToday,%20we%20would%20not%20have%20anywhere%20near%20that%20number%20(searching).%E2%80%9D%20The%20hearts%20of%20the%20people%20who%20showed%20up%20to%20help%20were%20in%20the%20right%20place%20but%20looking%20back,%20far%20too%20many%20well-meaning%20but%20inexperienced%20volunteers%20were%20allowed%20to%20participate.%20It%20is%20quite%20possible%20that%20some%20sign%20left%20by%20the%20boy%20was%20trampled%20by%20people%20who%20did%20not%20know%20what%20to%20look%20for.%20In%20addition%20to%20the%20mistake%20of%20allowing%20too%20many%20novice%20searchers%20to%20participate,%20officials%20decided,%20due%20to%20the%20prolific%20rainfall,%20not%20to%20call%20in%20dogs%20to%20search%20for%20Dennis%E2%80%99s%20scent.%20The%20officials%20were%20likely%20correct%20in%20that%20Dennis%E2%80%99s%20scent%20near%20Spence%20Field%20was%20likely%20washed%20out,%20but%20he%20was%20still%20out%20there%20somewhere%20and%20should%20have%20been%20creating%20new%20scent%20trails%20search%20dogs%20might%20have%20been%20able%20to%20lock%20on%20to%20(These%20and%20other%20miscues%20have%20been%20used%20as%20teaching%20tools%20ever%20since%20for%20search%20and%20rescue%20teams%20in%20training).%20Even%20so,%20the%20fact%20that%20absolutely%20no%20sign%20of%20the%20boy%20was%20found%20was%20shocking.%20%E2%80%9CSomething%20should%20have%20been%20found,%E2%80%9D%20said%20Dwight%20McCarter,%20a%20veteran%20tracker%20and%20retried%20Smokies%20Ranger%20struck%20by%20the%20complete%20lack%20of%20sign.%20%20By%20the%20second%20day%20of%20searching,%20Bill%E2%80%99s%20wife%20and%20Dennis%E2%80%99s%20mother,%20Violet%20Martin,%20had%20arrived%20on%20the%20scene.%20She%20was%20devastated%20by%20the%20developments%20but%20hopeful.%20%E2%80%9CI%20have%20a%20feeling%20we%E2%80%99re%20going%20to%20find%20him,%E2%80%9D%20she%20said.%20%E2%80%9CMaybe%20God%20sent%20this%20ordeal%20to%20us%20so%20we%20could%20appreciate%20things%20more.%E2%80%9D%20Others,%20however,%20were%20beginning%20to%20lose%20hope.%20Some%20searchers%20were%20told%20surreptitiously%20to%20start%20closely%20examining%20any%20bear,%20coyote,%20or%20bobcat%20scat.%20Others%20were%20dispatched%20to%20areas%20where%20vultures%20were%20spotted%20circling.%20The%20hours%20and%20the%20days%20dragged%20on,%20still%20no%20Dennis.%20%20The%20first%20of%20several%20self-proclaimed%20psychics%20chimed%20in%20on%20Wednesday,%20June%2018th.%20The%20Martins,%20and%20to%20some%20degree%20Park%20authorities,%20did%20not%20dismiss%20the%20visions%20of%20these%20seers%20outright.%20The%20areas%20recommended%20by%20the%20clairvoyants%20were%20all%20dutifully%20searched.%20%E2%80%9CI%20believe%20some%20people%20have%20the%20ability%20to%20see%20or%20predict%20things,%E2%80%9D%20said%20Bill%20Martin%20at%20the%20time.%20Whether%20the%20Knoxville-based%20architect%20had%20given%20any%20thought%20to%20such%20matters%20prior%20to%20the%20disappearance%20of%20his%20son%20remains%20unknown%20but%20desperation%20had%20set%20in%20and%20all%20involved%20wanted%20to%20leave%20no%20stone%20unturned%20in%20the%20hunt%20for%20Dennis.%20One%20such%20example%20came%20from%20a%20Mrs.%20Schwaller%20of%20Linden,%20Michigan%20who%20contacted%20authorities%20to%20say%20Dennis%20would%20be%20found%20in%20a%20spot%20%E2%80%9Cnear%20a%20stream%20by%20a%20small%20waterfall%20with%20white%20pine%20trees%20in%20the%20area.%E2%80%9D%20Unfortunately,%20like%20other%20visions%20reported%20by%20the%20various%20psychics%20who%20contacted%20authorities,%20this%20description%20was%20so%20vague%20that%20it%20could%20have%20been%20applied%20to%20hundreds%20of%20spots%20in%20the%20region.%20Still,%20the%20parents%20grabbed%20on%20to%20each%20of%20these%20visions%20as%20if%20they%20were%20life%20rings%20and%20the%20searchers%20did%20their%20best%20to%20check%20them%20all%20out.%20%20%20Excitement%20was%20briefly%20aroused%20on%20the%20fourth%20day%20of%20searching%20when%20volunteers%20located%20a%20set%20of%20faint%20child-sized%20tracks%20about%20a%20mile%20from%20Spence%20Field.%20After%20examination,%20authorities%20dismissed%20them%20as%20having%20been%20made%20by%20members%20of%20a%20Boy%20Scouts%20troop%20that%20was%20searching%20the%20area.%20Potentially,%20this%20was%20yet%20another%20missed%20lead.%20Tracker%20Dwight%20McCarter,%20still%20aggravated%20about%20the%20way%20the%20tracks%20were%20dismissed,%20would%20tell%20USA%20Today%2050%20years%20later,%20%E2%80%9CThey%20didn%E2%80%99t%20find%20tracks%20from%20a%20bunch%20of%20kids.%20They%20found%20tracks%20from%20one%20kid.%E2%80%9D%20It%20will%20never%20be%20known%20with%20any%20certainty%20who%20made%20those%20faint%20impressions%20or%20what%20they%20might%20have%20led%20searchers%20to%20discover.%20Later,%20Dennis%E2%80%99s%207th%20birthday%20would%20come%20and%20go%20(June%2020th)%20without%20any%20trace%20of%20him%20having%20been%20found.%20%20On%20June%2023rd,%20the%20Spartanburg,%20South%20Carolina%20Police%20Department%20provided%20a%20%E2%80%9Cpolice%20dog%E2%80%9D%20to%20help%20in%20the%20search.%20According%20to%20the%20official%20report,%20%E2%80%9CThe%20search%20met%20with%20negative%20results.%E2%80%9D%20The%20description%20of%20the%20canine%20as%20a%20%E2%80%9Cpolice%E2%80%9D%20dog%20and%20not%20a%20search%20dog%20could%20be%20simply%20a%20semantic%20error%20or%20it%20could%20be%20significant%20as%20not%20all%20police%20dogs%20are%20trained%20for%20search%20and%20rescue.%20Other%20dogs%20were%20called%20in%20%E2%80%93%20far%20later%20than%20they%20should%20have%20been-%20but%20they%20fared%20no%20better.%20Rumors%20began%20circulating%20from%20the%20beginning%20that%20the%20dogs%20were%20not%20attempting%20to%20find%20Dennis%E2%80%99s%20scent%20and%20failing;%20rather,%20they%20were%20refusing%20to%20track%20at%20all.%20The%20canines,%20so%20the%20story%20goes,%20simply%20sat%20down%20and%20whined,%20refusing%20to%20work.%20This%20is%20one%20of%20the%20big%20factors%20that%20has%20set%20off%20the%20%E2%80%9Chigh%20strangeness%E2%80%9D%20radar%20of%20so%20many,%20however,%20I%20simply%20cannot%20say%20whether%20it%20is%20true%20or%20not.%20I%20found%20references%20to%20dogs%20not%20being%20successful,%20but%20never%20found%20any%20source%20that%20stated%20the%20dogs%20refused%20to%20track.%20%20Fate%20can%20be%20cruel%20and%20she%20turned%20especially%20so%20on%20June%2024th.%20Searchers%20came%20across%20a%20young%20man%20wearing%20a%20red%20t-shirt%20and%20green%20shorts%20(the%20same%20color%20of%20shirt%20and%20shorts%20Dennis%20had%20been%20wearing%20when%20he%20vanished)%20walking%20the%20perimeter%20road%20of%20the%20Cades%20Cove%20campground.%20It%20turned%20out%20the%20boy%E2%80%99s%20name%20was%20Michael%20Devlin%20and%20he%20was%20camping%20in%20the%20area%20with%20his%20parents.%20The%20parents%20agreed%20to%20change%20the%20boy%E2%80%99s%20shirt%20so%20as%20to%20avoid%20any%20future%20confusion.%20On%20the%2026th,%20a%20man%20called%20in%20to%20Carson%20Brewer%20of%20the%20Knoxville%20News-Sentinel%20and%20told%20him%20to%20inform%20the%20searchers%20to%20%E2%80%9CLook%20in%20the%20trees%20and%20treetops.%20Stop%20looking%20on%20the%20ground.%E2%80%9D%20Did%20this%20caller%20have%20some%20kind%20of%20inside%20knowledge%20of%20the%20case?%20Was%20he%20another%20alleged%20psychic?%20We%20will%20likely%20never%20know.%20This%20cryptic%20phone%20call%20is%20another%20of%20the%20strange%20details%20surrounding%20the%20case%20that%20just%20does%20not%20set%20right%20with%20many.%20%20The%20official%20search%20would%20end%20on%20June%2029th.%20Unofficial%20efforts%20would%20continue%20into%20September.%20The%20Martin%20family,%20refusing%20to%20believe%20their%20son%20was%20dead%20%E2%80%93%20in%20their%20defense,%20no%20body,%20blood,%20or%20any%20other%20spoor%20that%20might%20lead%20to%20that%20conclusion%20was%20ever%20found%20%E2%80%93%20put%20up%20a%20$5,000%20reward%20for%20information%20leading%20to%20the%20return%20of%20their%20son.%20Authorities%20never%20bought%20in%20to%20the%20Martin%E2%80%99s%20kidnapping%20theory,%20but%20could%20not%20dismiss%20it%20outright%20either.%20In%20any%20case,%20the%20reward%20remained%20unclaimed.%20%20The%20scope%20of%20the%20search%20for%20Dennis%20Martin%20has%20given%20pause%20to%20some.%20Never%20before%20had%20such%20a%20large%20force%20of%20government%20resources%20been%20used%20in%20a%20missing%20persons%20case.%20In%20all,%20more%20than%2013,400%20man-hours%20were%20invested%20in%20the%20search.%20People%20ranging%20from%20concerned%20volunteers%20to%20the%20military%20were%20involved.%20It%20is%20the%20involvement%20of%20those%20military%20personnel%20that%20has%20raised%20suspicion%20among%20many%20that%20something%20unusual,%20something%20other%20than%20the%20disappearance%20of%20a%20small%20boy,%20had%20occurred%20at%20Spence%20Field%20that%20June%20day%20in%201969.%20While%20it%20is%20not%20unusual%20for%20the%20National%20Guard%20to%20help%20in%20such%20matters,%20I%20have%20been%20told%20it%20is%20highly%20unusual%20for%20the%20regular%20military%20to%20do%20so.%20Even%20more%20unusual%20was%20the%20involvement%20of%20a%20Green%20Beret%20unit.%20The%20story%20was%20they%20were%20in%20the%20area%20on%20a%20training%20exercise%20and%20were%20instructed%20to%20come%20help%20in%20the%20search.%20As%20a%20non-military%20person,%20this%20did%20not%20seem%20like%20anything%20unusual%20to%20me.%20I%20have%20been%20told%20now%20more%20than%20once%20that%20this%20simply%20does%20not%20happen.%20A%20bit%20of%20revealed%20that%20the%20Green%20Berets%20are%20considered%20a%20Special%20Operations%20Force%20of%20the%20U.S.%20Army%20and%20exist%20to%20deploy%20and%20execute%20%E2%80%9Cnine%20doctrinal%20missions,%E2%80%9D%20none%20of%20which%20include%20search%20and%20rescue%20operations.%20Digging%20a%20bit%20deeper,%20secondary%20missions%20sometimes%20taken%20on%20by%20U.S.%20Special%20Forces%20include,%20among%20others,%20combat%20search%20and%20rescue,%20hostage%20rescue,%20and%20manhunts.%20This%20being%20the%20case,%20perhaps%20the%20involvement%20of%20the%20Green%20Berets%20is%20not%20as%20strange%20as%20it%20at%20first%20seems.%20Other%20details,%20however,%20do%20lend%20an%20air%20of%20mystery%20to%20their%20presence.%20Many%20witnesses%20claim%20the%20%E2%80%9Cspecial%20ops%20guys%E2%80%9D%20were%20standoff-ish,%20unfriendly,%20and%20%E2%80%9Cdid%20their%20own%20thing,%E2%80%9D%20which%20intimates%20a%20lack%20of%20communication%20and%20coordination%20with%20the%20other%20searchers.%20In%20addition,%20multiple%20reports%20state%20that%20these%20military%20units%20were%20armed%20with%20rifles%20while%20conducting%20their%20searches.%20This%20does%20sound%20unusual%20to%20me%20but%20I%20have%20been%20unable%20to%20absolutely%20confirm%20this%20assertion.%20I%20have%20seen%20photos%20of%20military%20personnel%20arriving%20at%20Spence%20Field%20but%20have%20not%20seen%20any%20weapons.%20%20One%20thing%20that%20cannot%20be%20denied%20is%20that%20the%20government%20and%20the%20military%20were%20heavily%20involved%20in%20the%20search%20for%20Dennis%20Martin,%20much%20more%20so%20than%20any%20other%20missing%20persons%20case%20I%20can%20recall%20or%20have%20ever%20heard%20about.%20A%20fixed%20wing%20plane,%20multiple%20helicopters,%20a%20dozen%20jeeps,%20multiple%20National%20Guard%20Units,%20and%20Special%20Forces%20were%20called%20in.%20Several%20military%20command%20posts%20were%20established%20that%20seemed%20to%20be%20working%20independently%20of%20the%20National%20Parks%20Service%20and%20FBI.%20In%20the%20official%20case%20report%20on%20the%20incident%20it%20states%20that%20President%20Nixon%20was%20monitoring%20the%20situation%20and%20wanted%20to%20be%20kept%20up%20to%20speed.%20The%20sheer%20scope%20of%20the%20government%20and%20military%20involvement%20regarding%20this%20event%20was%20unprecedented.%20The%20question%20many%20ask%20is%20why?%20I%20have%20heard%20that%20the%20Martins%20knew%20somebody%20in%20Congress%20and%20that%20is%20why%20the%20government%20was%20so%20actively%20and%20heavily%20involved.%20In%20any%20case,%20the%20military%20commitment%20was%20extraordinary.%20You%20can%20look%20up%20all%20the%20numbers%20here%20but%20here%20are%20some%20statistics%20from%20the%20case%20report%20to%20chew%20on:%20%20%20-The%20Army%20flew%20938%20sorties%20into%20Spence%20Field%20%20-The%20Air%20Force%20flew%2078%20sorties%20into%20Spence%20Field%20-The%20military%20moved%20between%201,800%20and%202,000%20personnel%20in%20and%20out%20of%20the%20area%20via%20jeep%20over%20the%20course%20of%20the%20search%20-Involved%20branches/military%20resources%20included:%20oTennessee%20Air%20National%20Guard%20oTennessee%20Army%20National%20Guard%20oUnited%20States%20Special%20Forces%20oThe%20U.S.%20Marine%20Reserve,%20Knoxville,%20TN.%20oU.S.%20Army%20troops%20from%20Fort%20Benning,%20GA.%20oAir%20Force%20personnel%20from%20McGhee-Tyson%20AFB,%20TN.%20oAir%20Force%20personnel%20from%20Robbins%20AFB,%20FL.%20oPersonnel%20from%20the%20U.S.%20Coast%20Guard%20Auxiliary,%20TN.%20oAgents%20from%20the%20Federal%20Bureau%20of%20Investigation%20oTwo%20Huey%20helicopters%20oTwo%20HH-53%20(Jolly%20Green%20Giant)%20helicopters%20oOne%20U-10%20fixed%20wing%20airplane%20oTwo%20CH-53%20helicopters%20oTwo%20Air%20Force%20communications%20trucks%20oTwo%20Chinook%20helicopters%20%20I%20must%20admit%20to%20being%20quite%20taken%20aback%20regarding%20the%20investment%20of%20time,%20money,%20and%20resources%20the%20federal%20government%20committed%20to%20the%20search%20for%20a%20civilian%20missing%20person.%20I%20do%20not%20think%20it%20a%20stretch%20to%20state%20that%20it%20was%20unprecedented.%20George%20W.%20Fry,%20at%20the%20time%20Superintendent%20of%20Great%20Smoky%20Mountains%20National%20Park%20at%20the%20time,%20echoed%20a%20similar%20opinion%20in%20a%20letter%20to%20Tennessee%20Representative%20James%20H.%20Quillen%20sent%20on%20June%2026,%201969%20%E2%80%93%20three%20days%20before%20the%20official%20search%20for%20Dennis%20Martin%20concluded.%20He%20wrote,%20%E2%80%9CIn%20my%20entire%20experience%20with%20the%20National%20Park%20Service%20I%20have%20never%20heard%20of%20or%20participated%20in%20a%20search%20the%20extent%20of%20which%20this%20has%20built%20up%20to.%E2%80%9D%20It%20may%20be%20the%20cynic%20in%20me%20but%20I%20simply%20do%20not%20believe%20that%20the%20government%20was%20acting%20out%20of%20the%20goodness%20of%20its%20heart%20in%20this%20matter.%20Neither%20do%20I%20believe%20a%20personal%20relationship%20with%20someone%20in%20Congress%20could%20yield%20such%20a%20deep%20level%20of%20involvement.%20Military%20personnel%20were%20flown%20in%20from%20as%20far%20away%20as%20Florida.%20It%20is%20very%20strange.%20%20The%20final%20piece%20of%20weirdness%20is%20quite%20likely%20the%20most%20well-known%20piece%20of%20the%20entire%20strange%20puzzle%20that%20is%20the%20Dennis%20Martin%20case.%20It%20seems%20a%20family%20(Keys%20was%20their%20last%20name)%20hiking%20between%203-6%20miles%20(I%E2%80%99ve%20found%20documentation%20supporting%20both%20these%20numbers)%20from%20the%20spot%20where%20the%20boy%20vanished%20reported%20hearing%20a%20young%20boy%20scream%20in%20the%20woods.%20One%20of%20the%20family%20members%20spotted%20movement%20in%20a%20brushy%20area%20and%20thought%20it%20must%20be%20a%20bear.%20Instead,%20it%20turned%20out%20to%20be%20a%20man%20walking%20in%20the%20woods%20with%20something%20red%20slung%20over%20his%20shoulder%20(remember,%20Dennis%20was%20wearing%20a%20red%20t-shirt%20when%20he%20disappeared).%20The%20details%20of%20this%20report%20have%20morphed%20together%20and%20now%20you%20will%20find%20that%20the%20Keys%20saw%20a%20%E2%80%9Cbear%20man%E2%80%9D%20walking%20upright%20through%20the%20woods.%20This%20birthed%20the%20theory%20that%20young%20Dennis%20had%20been%20snatched%20by%20a%20wood%20ape%20or%20sasquatch.%20Other%20reports%20describe%20the%20figure%20as%20an%20%E2%80%9Cunkempt%20man.%E2%80%9D%20Largely%20ignored,%20another%20version%20of%20the%20Keys%20visual%20is%20that%20they%20saw%20only%20a%20%E2%80%9Csuspicious%E2%80%9D%20man%20in%20dark%20gray%20work%20clothes%20that%20drove%20away%20after%20being%20seen.%20Either%20way,%20the%20FBI%20gave%20the%20Key%20report%20no%20credence%20and%20failed%20to%20share%20the%20information%20with%20Bill%20Martin,%20something%20that%20angered%20him%20greatly%20as%20he%20believed%20in%20his%20heart%20his%20son%20had%20been%20kidnapped.%20%20It%20has%20been%2051%20years%20since%20little%20Dennis%20Martin%20disappeared.%20Bill%20Martin%20died%20in%202014,%20never%20knowing%20what%20had%20become%20of%20his%20youngest%20boy.%20The%20rest%20of%20the%20Martin%20family%20has%20been%20silent%20and%20has%20not%20discussed%20the%20case%20publicly%20since%20the%20search%20was%20called%20off%20all%20those%20years%20ago.%20There%20have%20been%20a%20few%20%E2%80%9Cfalse%20alarms%E2%80%9D%20over%20the%20years%20when%20it%20seemed%20the%20remains%20of%20Dennis%20Martin%20might%20have%20been%20discovered.%20The%20most%20recent%20occurred%20in%201985%20when%20a%20ginseng%20hunter%20reached%20out%20to%20tracker%20and%20retired%20Smokies%20Ranger,%20Dwight%20McCarter%20and%20told%20him%20he%20had%20come%20across%20a%20child-sized%20skeleton%20below%20Spence%20Field%20near%20an%20uprooted%20tree.%20A%20search%20of%20the%20area,%20however,%20yielded%20nothing.%20Most%20have%20come%20to%20the%20same%20conclusion%20as%20Clay%20Jordan,%20Deputy%20Park%20Superintendent,%20who%20said,%20%E2%80%9CI%20think%20it%20is%20virtually%20impossible%20that%20we%20will%20ever%20know%20what%20happened%20to%20Dennis%20Martin%E2%80%A6It%E2%80%99s%20become%20one%20of%20the%20enduring%20mysteries%20of%20the%20Smokies.%E2%80%9D%20%20%20Spence%20Field%20looks%20quite%20different%20than%20it%20did%20a%20half-century%20ago.%20Trees%20now%20cover%20what%20was%20once%20open%20ground.%20Leaf%20litter%20and%20other%20forest%20debris%20cover%20the%20earth%20where%20meadow%20grasses%20once%20grew.%20%E2%80%9CFor%20every%20year,%20nature%20layers%20up%20about%20an%20inch,%E2%80%9D%20Dwight%20McCarter%20said.%20%E2%80%9CAnd%20it%E2%80%99s%20been%20a%20lot%20of%20years.%E2%80%9D%20%20As%20a%20parent,%20most%20of%20us%20sympathize%20greatly%20with%20the%20torment%20Bill%20Martin%20must%20have%20endured%20after%20his%20son%20disappeared%20practically%20before%20his%20very%20eyes.%20Such%20pain%20is%20something%20to%20which%20we%20believe%20we%20can%20relate,%20but%20can%20we?%20Can%20we%20really?%20%20I,%20for%20one,%20pray%20I%20never%20find%20out.%20%20%20%20Sources:%20%20Lakin,%20Matt.%20%E2%80%9CMissing%20in%20the%20Smokies.%E2%80%9D%20USA%20Today,%2012%20June%202019,%20pp.%201A%E2%80%933A.%20Lakin,%20Matt.%20%E2%80%9C%27An%20Enduring%20Mystery%27:%20Why%20Dennis%20Martin%27s%20Disappearance%20Fascinates%20Us,%2050%20Years%20Later.%E2%80%9D%20KNOX%20News,%206%20June%202019,%20www.knoxnews.com/story/news/local/2019/06/06/dennis-martin-missing-smoky-mountains-disappearance/1338089001/.%20Balloch,%20Jim.%20%E2%80%9CFrom%20the%20Archives:%20Search%20in%20Smokies%20for%20Lost%20Boy,%20Dennis%20Martin,%20Produces%20Lessons%20for%20Future%20Searches.%E2%80%9D%20Knoxville%20News%20Sentinel,%202%20Oct.%202018,%20www.knoxnews.com/story/news/2018/10/02/massive-1969-search-dennis-martin-produces-lessons-future-searches-smokies-archives/1496635002/.%20Striepe,%20Becky.%20%E2%80%9C10%20Mysterious%20Disappearances%20in%20National%20Parks.%E2%80%9D%20HowStuffWorks,%20HowStuffWorks,%2010%20July%202015,%20adventure.howstuffworks.com/survival/wilderness/10-mysterious-disappearances-in-national-parks6.htm.%20StrangeOutdoors.%20%E2%80%9CDennis%20Martin%20-%20Strange%20Disappearances%20from%20US%20National%20Parks.%E2%80%9D%20StrangeOutdoors.com,%20StrangeOutdoors.com,%2027%20Oct.%202017,%20www.strangeoutdoors.com/mysterious-stories-blog/2017/10/22/dennis-martin-strange-disappearances-from-us-national-parks.%20Swancer,%20Brent,%20and%20Paul%20Seaburn.%20%E2%80%9CSome%20Very%20Strange%20Information%20on%20the%20Bizarre%20Vanishing%20of%20Dennis%20Martin.%E2%80%9D%20Mysterious%20Universe,%209%20June%202017,%20mysteriousuniverse.org/2017/06/some-very-strange-information-on-the-bizarre-vanishing-of-dennis-martin/.%20%E2%80%9CUnited%20States%20Army%20Special%20Forces.%E2%80%9D%20Wikipedia,%20Wikimedia%20Foundation,%2030%20June%202020,%20en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Army_Special_Forces.%20https://www.nps.gov/aboutus/foia/upload/1969_GRSM_DennisMartin_dissapearance_REDACTED.pdf"> here</a> but here are some statistics from the case report to chew on: <o:p></o:p></div>
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I must admit to being quite taken aback regarding the investment of time, money, and resources the federal government committed to the search for a civilian missing person. I do not think it a stretch to state that it was highly unusual. George W. Fry, at the time Superintendent of Great Smoky Mountains National Park, echoed a similar opinion in a letter to Tennessee Representative James H. Quillen sent on June 26, 1969 – three days before the official search for Dennis Martin concluded. He wrote, “In my entire experience with the National Park Service I have never heard of or participated in a search the extent of which this has built up to.” It may be the cynic in me but I simply do not believe that the government was acting out of the goodness of its heart in this matter. Neither do I believe a personal relationship with someone in Congress could yield such a deep level of involvement. Military personnel were flown in from as far away as Florida. It is very strange.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The final piece of weirdness is quite likely the most well-known piece of the entire strange puzzle that is the Dennis Martin case. It seems a family (Keys was their last name) hiking between 3-6 miles (I’ve found documentation supporting both these numbers) from the spot where Dennis vanished reported hearing a young boy scream in the woods. One of the family members spotted movement in a brushy area and thought it must be a bear. Instead, it turned out to be a man walking in the woods with something red slung over his shoulder (remember, Dennis was wearing a red t-shirt when he disappeared). The details of this report have morphed together and now you will find that the Keys saw a “bear man” walking upright through the woods. This birthed the theory that young Dennis had been snatched by a wood ape or sasquatch. Other reports describe the figure as an “unkempt man.” Largely ignored, another version of the Keys visual is that they saw only a “suspicious” man in dark gray work clothes that drove away after being seen. Either way, the FBI gave the Key report no credence and failed to share the information with Bill Martin, something that angered him greatly as he believed in his heart his son had been kidnapped.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It has been 51 years since little Dennis Martin disappeared. Bill Martin died in 2014, never knowing what had become of his youngest boy. The rest of the Martin family has been silent and has not discussed the case publicly since the search was called off all those years ago. There have been a few “false alarms” over the years when it seemed the remains of Dennis Martin might have been discovered. The most recent occurred in 1985 when a ginseng hunter reached out to tracker and retired Smokies Ranger, Dwight McCarter and told him he had come across a child-sized skeleton below Spence Field near an uprooted tree. A search of the area, however, yielded nothing. Most have come to the same conclusion as Clay Jordan, Deputy Park Superintendent, who said, “I think it is virtually impossible that we will ever know what happened to Dennis Martin…It’s become one of the enduring mysteries of the Smokies.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Spence Field looks quite different than it did a half-century ago. Trees now cover what was once open ground. Leaf litter and other forest debris cover the earth where meadow grasses once grew. “For every year, nature layers up about an inch,” Dwight McCarter said. “And it’s been a lot of years.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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As a parent, most of us sympathize greatly with the torment Bill Martin must have endured after his son disappeared practically before his very eyes. Such pain is something to which we believe we can relate, but can we? Can we really?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I, for one, pray I never find out. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Sources:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Lakin, Matt. “Missing in the Smokies.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>USA Today</i>, 12 June 2019, pp. 1A–3A.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Lakin, Matt. “'An Enduring Mystery': Why Dennis Martin's Disappearance Fascinates Us, 50 Years Later.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>KNOX News</i>, 6 June 2019, www.knoxnews.com/story/news/local/2019/06/06/dennis-martin-missing-smoky-mountains-disappearance/1338089001/.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Balloch, Jim. “From the Archives: Search in Smokies for Lost Boy, Dennis Martin, Produces Lessons for Future Searches.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Knoxville News Sentinel</i>, 2 Oct. 2018, <a href="http://www.knoxnews.com/story/news/2018/10/02/massive-1969-search-dennis-martin-produces-lessons-future-searches-smokies-archives/1496635002/" style="color: #954f72; text-decoration: underline;">www.knoxnews.com/story/news/2018/10/02/massive-1969-search-dennis-martin-produces-lessons-future-searches-smokies-archives/1496635002/</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Striepe, Becky. “10 Mysterious Disappearances in National Parks.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>HowStuffWorks</i>, HowStuffWorks, 10 July 2015, adventure.howstuffworks.com/survival/wilderness/10-mysterious-disappearances-in-national-parks6.htm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">StrangeOutdoors. “Dennis Martin - Strange Disappearances from US National Parks.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>StrangeOutdoors.com</i>, StrangeOutdoors.com, 27 Oct. 2017, <a href="http://www.strangeoutdoors.com/mysterious-stories-blog/2017/10/22/dennis-martin-strange-disappearances-from-us-national-parks" style="color: #954f72; text-decoration: underline;">www.strangeoutdoors.com/mysterious-stories-blog/2017/10/22/dennis-martin-strange-disappearances-from-us-national-parks</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Swancer, Brent, and Paul Seaburn. “Some Very Strange Information on the Bizarre Vanishing of Dennis Martin.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Mysterious Universe</i>, 9 June 2017, mysteriousuniverse.org/2017/06/some-very-strange-information-on-the-bizarre-vanishing-of-dennis-martin/.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">“United States Army Special Forces.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Wikipedia</i>, Wikimedia Foundation, 30 June 2020, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Army_Special_Forces.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">https://www.nps.gov/aboutus/foia/upload/1969_GRSM_DennisMartin_dissapearance_REDACTED.pdf<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-76645974355891839292020-06-30T15:15:00.000-05:002020-06-30T15:17:30.663-05:00Coming Home: I am Kickstarting the Blog<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Greetings from the Lone Star State. I hope this message finds you all well and safe. Thank you for coming back and taking the time to read my thoughts. I have been absent from this platform for quite a while now and those of you who continue to visit are much appreciated.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After much consideration, I have decided to kickstart the blog. I love writing it and hearing from all of you regarding the various odd topics I discuss here. I have missed the process of writing it, the interaction between us, and having an outlet for my opinions and thoughts. I guess there is truth in the old adage “You can’t miss something until it is gone.” I have missed the blog and I want to get it going again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Much of the reason I have been absent has simply been a personal choice. I suppose the blog started to suffer once I started work on my book on the black panther phenomenon, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Cats-Black-Panthers-America/dp/1938398904/ref=sr_1_3?dchild=1&keywords=shadow+cats&qid=1593546064&sr=8-3">Shadow Cats: The Black Panthers of North America</a></i>. I toyed with the book for a couple of years before deciding it was time to either finish it or junk it. I felt it was a worthwhile project and at that point, I devoted my writing time exclusively to the book. That is not to say that I had a lot of time to write. I do not make my living as a writer; I am a teacher and until recently, a coach. I am also happily married with two daughters. My particular line of work is demanding of much time and my family gets the lion’s share of the time that is left over. You may think <i>what about summer? You should have lots of time to write in the summer.</i> It is true I have more time to write in the summer (hence the timing of this post) but this is also the time of year when I catch up on all the things that went undone during the school year. I remain quite busy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Some other circumstances played into my neglect of the blog, too. After finishing the book, I was exhausted. My hat is off to prolific writers of non-fiction that requires a lot of research who are working only in their spare time. I was burned out after finishing <i>Shadow Cats</i>. I was seeing black panthers and other cryptid creatures in my sleep. I needed to step back for a while. I decided if I ever wrote another book it would be fiction. My logic was that it has to be easier to just make stuff up than do research, fact-checking, cross-referencing, and citing sources (I would find out that is not exactly true).<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have also reached a point in life where my parents and in-laws are getting up in years. There have been multiple health crises that have demanded the full attention of my wife and I. My youngest brother has also fallen into poor health and my elderly parents are now his full-time caregivers. They live less than 30 minutes from my home so I get over there and try to help as much as I can. Again, nothing anyone would not do for their loved ones, but it is time consuming. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I could go on but you get the idea. What I finally decided was I needed to prioritize things in my life and make some adjustments. As a result of that decision, I left the school district where I have taught and coached for more than 20 years in order to accept a position closer to home. Instead of a 30 minute drive to and from work every day, I will be working at a school only 7 minutes from my house (that’s when the traffic is bad). I have also decided to put some other interests/hobbies on the back burner for now. My free time will be devoted to my family, my work with the NAWAC, and my writing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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While I have been absent from the blog, I haven’t been totally underground. I have continued to appear on radio and podcasts plugging the book and discussing all things cryptid. My most recent appearance was an interview on <i><a href="https://youtu.be/o0VJjy7uQEo">Spaced Out Radio</a></i> a couple of weeks ago. I now have a personal website – <a href="http://michaelcmayes.com/">Michaelcmayes.com</a> - where my activities are summarized and the organization makes it easier to follow (I needed that even if no one else did), and have continued to write. I have tried my hand at fiction and actually had some success. Most of you know about the illustrated children’s book I did several years back with the brilliant Arkansas-based artist – and fellow bigfoot enthusiast – Robert Swain called <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Patty-Sasquatch-Story-Michael-Mayes/dp/1491848375/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1392060467&sr=8-1&keywords=Patty%3A+A+Sasquatch+Story">Patty: A Sasquatch Story</a></i>. I don’t know about the writing, but Robert’s illustrations make the book worth the purchase price. I have also written several short stories and am proud to announce that one of them, a ghost story titled "Troubled Waters," will be published in the fall by <a href="http://radiumtownpress.com/index.html">Hypnos Magazine</a>. I have high hopes for a couple of other stories and hope to get them published in various periodicals over the next few months (fingers crossed). Too, I have broken my vow to never write another non-fiction book. I am currently working on a book detailing the adventures and work of the <a href="http://woodape.org/">NAWAC</a> from its formation (originally the TBRC) up to our current work in the notorious Area X. It is a story that needs to be told and should be a breath of fresh air for those who have watched one too many silly cable television shows on the subject and want to know what it is really like to pursue the elusive wood ape or sasquatch. Hopefully, there is a publisher out there that will take a chance on it as I believe there is an audience (likely, one much bigger than those who follow the black panther phenomenon) out there who are hungry for something other than retellings of the old bigfoot classics and scary campfire tales.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The blog is back. I will make every effort to post something at least a couple of time per month. While I do not think I will ever get back to posting as often as I did in the early years, I am making the site a priority again. It is true that I have said what I have to say about most of the well-known cryptid creatures out there, but will continue to mine new nuggets where I can find them and comment on current cryptozoological events more often.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It would help me to know you guys are still out there. If it is not imposing too much, I respectively request you officially “follow” the blog. This helps me to know I am not just talking to myself and might convince any potential publishers of future work that I do have people who are interested in what I have to say. It would be a huge help.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Until next time, continue to follow the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Texas-Cryptid-Hunter-115187128512565/?ref=settings">Facebook</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/tcryptidhunter">Twitter</a> pages (where I have remained active) and I’ll let you know there when the next post is up. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s good to be back.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mike<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-38196945171826869952020-05-03T11:59:00.003-05:002020-05-03T11:59:22.911-05:00Big Cat Conversations Interview Now AvailableI was recently interviewed by Rick Minter of the Big Cat Conversations Podcast. Rick is based out of Britain and is looking into the big cat sightings there.<br />
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You can listen to the interview by clicking <a href="https://bigcatconversations.com/episodes/">here</a>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-37408027540892063272019-10-30T15:59:00.001-05:002019-10-30T15:59:41.437-05:00Gray Wolf Killed in East Texas<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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<o:p> </o:p>A wolf has been killed in East Texas. </div>
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That is not a misprint or a mistake. A gray wolf was shot and killed this past week in a heavily wooded region of East Texas. I will not be revealing the location – please don’t ask – for a variety of reasons. I will say that the man who took the wolf is a close friend of mine and I can absolutely vouch for the authenticity of the story and the photographs included in this post. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The details are as follows: The property owners where the wolf was taken were decorating for a party they would be hosting the next day. The family noticed the animal skulking about on the edge of the wood line and reported it to my friend. He told me the family members described it as being “as large as a shepherd.” These are people who live in the woods and they know a coyote when they see one. They were quite sure this was no coyote. My friend searched the area, but found no sign of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next day, the animal was seen again – this time by a delivery person who had come to the property. According to the delivery man, the animal fled when it was seen. Another search revealed nothing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sunday evening, my friend heard one of his dogs yapping at something in a pasture that was occupied by livestock. Upon investigation, my friend saw a huge, gray, dog-like animal interacting with his pointer. The interaction did not seem aggressive, but knowing coyotes will often act playful in order to lure a domestic dog away from its yard in order to attack it, my friend decided to take no chances. He felt that a huge wolf-like animal near his livestock, dogs, and family was a recipe for disaster and took the shot.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The animal weighed in at 120 lbs. Certainly, this was no coyote. On top of that, it did not look like a coyote; it looked like a wolf. My friend called the local Game Warden who arrived and took possession of the animal. My friend was notified today that the animal has been positively identified as a gray wolf by the Texas Parks & Wildlife Department.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Gray wolves (<i>Canis lupus</i>) once roamed over the western two-thirds of Texas but has long been considered extirpated there. While red wolves once occupied East Texas, gray wolves were always rare there. It has long been believed that the last two gray wolves in Texas were killed in 1970. One was shot on the Cathedral Mountain Ranch, south of Alpine in Brewster County on December 5 and the other was trapped on the Joe Neal Brown Ranch, located near the point where Brewster, Pecos, and Terrell Counties meet. While there have sporadic wolf reports from all over the state since 1970, almost all of them turned out to be coyotes. As for the few sightings that seem intriguing, the more likely candidate was always the red wolf. These facts are what makes this incident so fascinating.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Texas Parks & Wildlife biologists are almost certain that this animal – though absolutely a gray wolf – was someone’s pet. Whether this unfortunate canid escaped an enclosure or was released will never be known.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m sure the biologists are correct and that this was not a truly wild wolf. Wolves are pack animals, not solitary wanderers. Certainly, a pack of wolves – even a small one – would be noticed by authorities and the locals. Still, the next time I am out in the woods and hear the coyotes start to howl and carry on, I will pause and listen a little more closely. My hope is that I will hear an answer to their calls that goes on longer and is a bit deeper, something that might indicate the presence of a wild canid larger than a coyote.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A guy can hope… <o:p></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3810009914256696264.post-50963462508451072992019-08-21T15:07:00.002-05:002019-08-21T15:07:34.649-05:00Sasquatch FAQ Series: Do Wood Apes Avoid Game Cameras?<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i>With thousands of game cameras out there, if bigfoot is real, why are there no pictures?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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The question above is one I have heard countless times over the years. Make no mistake, it is a fair question and I have no problem with anyone who asks it. On the surface, the fact that no clear and conclusive photos have been captured via game camera would seem to indicate that the wood ape does not exist. The real answer as to why game cameras have failed to get the “money shot,” however, may not be quite so simple. As seems to be the case with almost everything related to the sasquatch enigma, the truth may be more nuanced and layered than one might expect.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In 2003, a team from the University of Nebraska published a paper titled W<i>ariness of Coyotes to Camera Traps Relative to Social Status and Territory Boundaries</i>. The paper detailed an aversion that Alpha coyotes seemed to have regarding game cameras. The study took place in the Dye Creek Preserve in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains of California which was closed to the public. The authors thought the coyote population in this area would make good subjects for their study due to their extremely limited exposure to humans. “Coyotes on the preserve were not hunted and generally represented an unexploited population,” the authors wrote. The results of their study were fascinating.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The study found that the dominant coyotes, the Alphas, were never photographed inside their territories during the three years the game cameras were in place. Not one time. The authors concluded that this was not due to the animals having left the area as Betas and transient coyotes, thirty-eight in all, were successfully photographed by the cameras and Alphas were observed via more traditional means in their territories. Instead, the authors felt the lack of photos of the Alphas had to do with an increased level of awareness and caution on the part of the dominant pack members. “Alphas are probably the only coyotes that are truly territorial in terms of defending and fully exploiting their space,” the authors said. The Alphas regularly traversed their entire territories and “actively tracked human activity within their territories and presumably gained information about camera stations as they were being set up.” The final conclusion was the Alphas “were cautious of camera stations because of their association with humans and not simply because they were novel.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The conclusion that Alpha coyotes avoided game cameras because they associated them with humans is one that has real ramifications for those attempting to gain photographic evidence of the wood ape by the use of such devices. The NAWAC conducted a large-scale camera-trapping project dubbed <i>Operation Forest Vigil </i>from 2006 – 2011. Despite hundreds of man hours and thousands of dollars spent on the effort, no definitive photos of the target species were captured. The thinking was that apes might avoid the cameras for a few days or weeks after their initial deployment, but get used to them over time. The lack of results and the findings of the University of Nebraska biologists caused the group to reconsider that opinion and the project. If the apes were avoiding the cameras due to associating them with humans and not because they were something new and out of place – like the Alpha coyotes in the University of Nebraska study – then the group was very likely wasting its time and money. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Coyotes are one thing, apes are another. How can we be sure that apes are as wary of cameras as Alpha coyotes? A recent study conducted by the Max Planck Institute of Evolutionary Anthropology shed some light on that question. According to a paper published in March of 2019, an international team of researchers placed cameras in ape-populated forests in Africa in an effort to learn how wild apes would react to these unfamiliar objects. Responses varied by species, and even among individuals within the same species, but one thing was consistent throughout: the apes definitely noticed the cameras.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Our goal was to see how chimpanzees, bonobos, and gorillas react to unfamiliar objects in the wild since novel object experiments are often used in comparative psychology research, and we wanted to know if there were any differences among the three great apes,” said primatologist Ammi Kalan. “We were specifically surprised by the differences in reactions we observed between the chimps and bonobos. Since they are sister species and share a lot of the same genetic makeup, we expected them to act similarly to the camera, but this wasn’t the case.” The chimps, though they noticed the cameras, seemed uninterested, for the most part. The bonobos, on the other hand, were stressed by the devices. “The bonobos appeared to be much more troubled by the camera traps; they were hesitant to approach and would actively keep their distance from them,” said Kalan.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The experiment pointed out the necessity of researchers to consider how animals will respond to unfamiliar monitoring equipment – I would include audio recording devices under this umbrella, too –in their natural habitats. The variation in behavior from species to species towards unfamiliar objects placed in their environment “might be problematic when trying to collect accurate monitoring data,” said Kalan. In other words, there may be no such thing as truly passive observation. The mere presence of a camera or a recorder may alter the behavior of the target species.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Many researchers, me among them, have long held the belief that wood apes avoid camera traps. Do not misunderstand, I do not think an ape knows what a camera does and makes a conscious effort to avoid having its picture taken. That is foolishness. I do, however, think it is possible – likely even – that these wood apes associate cameras with humans. If they understand, even on an extremely rudimentary level, that humans are generally bad news, and if they are more bonobo-like than chimpanzee-like in their sensitivity to foreign objects in there environment, then they are likely going to go to great pains to avoid anything to do with them; that would include camera traps.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Despite this belief, I am still a proponent of the use of game cameras. I feel short of a hunter taking a specimen or a road-kill type of scenario, cameras remain our best chance of documenting the species. I also feel that despite the challenges, a large-scale camera project sponsored by a well-funded group with sufficient resources just might be able to capture the evidence desired. What must be understood is that just hanging a camera on a stake or a tree is not going to be good enough when the quarry is something as intelligent as a great ape. New and novel techniques will need to be utilized to have any chance of success. Another reason I remain a proponent of game cameras is that these creatures are not infallible. They do make the occasional mistake. Researchers can do the wrong thing, be too loud, fail to camouflage their cameras, etc. day after day for years. That is okay; there is always tomorrow. The wood ape has to be perfect every day in order to permanently avoid detection. That is simply not possible, not even for an animal as furtive and elusive as the sasquatch. One mistake. That is all it will take for the discovery of the millennium to be made. The question really is not whether or not the wood ape will make a mistake; one will. The question is will there be anyone or a monitoring device present to capitalize on said mistake?<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you are the type to get into discussions over cryptozoological-related matters – and you likely are considering you are reading this – file the findings of the University of Nebraska biologists and the researchers of the Max Planck Institute away for future conversations. The question of why no photos have been captured by game cameras is bound to come up eventually. Along with the most common response – and quite a valid one, in my opinion – stating that most game cameras are pointed at deer feeders that are not too deep into the woods, bring up the possibility, backed by scientific studies, that some animals simply avoid cameras due to their association with humans. You will come across as well-read, reasonable, and intelligent.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You will also be right.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #333333;">“Wild African Ape Reactions to Novel Camera Traps.” <i>ScienceDaily</i>, ScienceDaily, 14 Mar. 2019, www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2019/03/190314111015.htm.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cccccc; color: #333333;">Sequin, E.S, et al. “Wariness of Coyotes to Camera Traps Relative to Social Status and Territory Boundaries.” <i>Digital Commons @ University of Nebraska-Lincoln</i>, USDA National Wildlife Research Center - Staff Publications, Mar. 2003, digitalcommons.unl.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?referer=http://woodape.org/index.php/about-bigfoot/articles/190-cryptidcaution&httpsredir=1&article=1227&context=icwdm_usdanwrc.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cccccc; color: #333333;">Higgins, Alton, and Daryl Colder. “Cryptid Caution Concerning Cameras?” <i>Cryptid Caution Concerning Cameras?</i>, woodape.org/index.php/about-bigfoot/articles/190-cryptidcaution.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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