What We Talk About When We Talk About Monsters

North American Lake Monsters
By Nathan Ballingrud
Published 2013-13-07
Small Beer Press
300 Pages

What We Talk About When We Talk About Monsters

By John Langan SEPTEMBER 19, 2013

THERE’S SOMETHING ALMOST non-descript about the title of Nathan Ballingrud’s excellent new collection of stories, North American Lake Monsters. It’s as if we’re being presented with a field guide — albeit, an eccentric one — rather than a selection of powerful and moving horror stories. And yet, unassuming as the title is, its naturalist overtones point to one of the book’s principal influences, the broad American tradition of fiction that flows from Hemingway and Faulkner down to Raymond Carver, Larry Brown, and Daniel Woodrell. At the heart of this tradition is a meticulous portrayal of men and women attempting to meet the challenges of living in an opaque, even hostile world, their struggles frequently engendered as much by their own shortcomings as by the recalcitrance of their environment. Such a characters’ fight to resist the world, even when it is doomed to failure, has provided the engine for a wide array of American novels ranging from The Sun Also Rises (1926) to Winter’s Bone (2007). 

Thematically, this genealogy also lies within hailing distance of the horror narratives of writers such as H.P. Lovecraft, whose characters also contest overwhelming forces, exterior and interior. While this convergence has received little critical attention, it has been recognized and exploited by writers in the horror field ranging from Ray Bradbury to Stephen King. Their narratives lavish as much attention on character and setting as they do on the threat to them, creating, as it were, an imaginary werewolf in a real subdivision. The result of this is twofold. At the level of narrative action, the horrific elements gain in credibility and effect. At the level of narrative resonance, the real-world trials the characters face intersect the symbolic implications of the horrific elements, creating a whole greater than the sum of its parts. Thus, in a novel such as Something Wicked This Way Comes (1962) the adolescent anxieties besetting Bradbury’s teenaged protagonists manifest in outsize fashion in the monstrous carnival that descends on Green Town, Illinois. Similarly, the protean monster that stalks the pages of It (1986) mirrors the plethora of fears that afflict King’s characters, first as children and then as adults.

What Nathan Ballingrud does in North American Lake Monsters is to reinvigorate the horror tradition in which he participates by returning to that Hemingway-Faulkner source. Though it would be glib to describe the stories in this collection as Stephen King by way of Raymond Carver, Ballingrud’s portrayal of women and men clinging to the lower rungs of the socio-economic ladder rings as true as any of Carver’s efforts, and gives his work an impressive heft.

The protagonist of the book’s opening story, the blistering “You Go Where It Takes You,” is a case in point. The single mother of a three-year-old daughter, waiting tables during the morning shift at the local diner, Toni is living a life that is gradually coming apart at the seams. Abandoned by her child’s father, pursued by a social worker questioning the child’s psychological well-being, her daily existence has become a puzzle she cannot solve. When a large but friendly customer offers to take her out, she accepts not out of any expectation of a Cinderella-style rescue from her circumstances, but because it will be something different to do, a break in the routine that is grinding her down. Yet when this man reveals a fantastic and gruesome secret to her, Toni reacts, not with fear, but with jealousy and desire, seizing the revelation as a chance for her to escape from her life. Her response, and the action it subsequently engenders, closes the story on a devastating note. This showcases one of Ballingrud’s strengths as a writer, his ability to inhabit the emotional lives of his characters in a way that feels utterly authentic.

That ability is on display throughout the rest of the stories in this book. In “Wild Acre,” a remarkable werewolf story, the beast is glimpsed only briefly during the story’s opening pages, but the psychological damage it inflicts on Jeremy, the sole survivor of its attack, poisons his life. Within the narrative, it is possible to recognize the outline of one of the more familiar werewolf stories, that of the man unwittingly infected by the monster’s curse. But Ballingrud uses that structure to frame a story about the ways in which violence warps the lives of all who encounter it. He offers no satisfying confrontation with the monster, no climactic dispatch of the beast and exorcism of its evil. The werewolf devotes no more attention to its victims than does any of the other forces arrayed against them, from an economy in recession to a social milieu in which they are not welcome. For the monster, its victims are food, worth no more attention than a lunchtime hamburger. Confronted by such circumstances, Jeremy is subject to the very real and alluring temptation to become like the beast, to embrace the violence that has granted it so much sway over his life. It is a compelling anatomy of the effects and the attractions of brutality

“Wild Acre” brings its monster onstage momentarily, and at a distance. Not all the stories in this collection, however, play as coy. The brilliant “Sunbleached” portrays a situation by now familiar to readers of vampire fiction: the disaffected youth who longs for a vampire to confer on him the gift of its condition. From Anne Rice to Stephanie Meyer, this plot has been treated in quasi-romantic terms. Ballingrud shifts the scenario to the Freudian family romance, giving us Joshua, a fifteen-year-old boy living with his mother and younger brother. Wounded by his father’s abandonment, jealous of his young mother’s boyfriend, Joshua looks to the vampire who becomes trapped under his house as a means to take control first of his own life, then of his family.. Yet the state of the vampire with whom Joshua is attempting to negotiate gives a clue that the situation is far, far worse than he realizes. Charred by a brief exposure to the rising sun, this is no handsome prince of the undead. Rather, it is sharp teeth and an appetite. We can hardly be blamed for guessing that the story will not turn out happily; when that guess is confirmed, however, it is in a scene shot through with a pathos even more devastating than the horror it accompanies.

Joshua is like many of the protagonists in Ballingrud’s stories: emotionally scarred; uncomfortable in his own skin; desperate for some kind of change, no matter good or bad. The vampire embodies one of the collection’s recurrent motifs, that of consumption. Sometimes it is the monsters who do the eating, sometimes the human characters, but the world of this book is one of hunger real and figurative, in which everyone is riven by a fundamental lack. Indeed, it may well be the manner in which a character responds to this radical insufficiency that defines him or her as monstrous or human. The monsters embrace and indulge their hungers unabashedly. The humans wrestle with their deficits, and although that struggle may lead them to terrible decisions, there is still the sense of their choices as stays against the abyss. Of course, this results in an irony that pervades the collection. But it is not a cheap irony, the knee-jerk response of the amateur cynic. Rather, it is the earned response of a writer who has watched men and women try to escape the traps of their lives by constructing bigger and more elaborate traps for themselves.

Among aficionados of horror fiction, it has become something of a commonplace to say that we are living in a new golden age of the field. Given the work of writers such as Laird Barron, Glen Hirshberg, Victor Lavalle, and Livia Llewellyn, this is not an unreasonable view to take. Certainly, the innovative and exciting fiction currently being produced in the horror field calls to mind the mid-1980s, when Clive Barker, T.E.D. Klein, Stephen King, and Peter Straub were demonstrating the potential of the horror story to serve as a vehicle for serious and sustained literary expression. Like the work of those earlier writers, that of Barron, Hirshberg, Lavalle, Llewellyn — and of Nathan Ballingrud — is built to last. Today, we might reach for a book such as Barker’s The Damnation Game (1985) or Klein’s Dark Gods (1985) as an example of work that has weathered the last few decades and promises to survive into those ahead. North American Lake Monsters is such a book. 

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Canada’s mysterious lake monster

For generations, a mythical beast has been said to lurk in the depths of Okanagan Lake. But now a new view on British Columbia’s most revered serpent is taking hold.


By Lisa Kadane BBC 10 March 2020


Not long after I moved to Kelowna, a city in southern British Columbia known for its wineries, water sports and hiking trails, I saw a news story about a monster sighting. Two brothers had seen something undulating across the water in the middle of Okanagan Lake, an 84-mile long lake that curves down the Okanagan Valley past Kelowna in the shape of a serpent. The wave crested and fanned out like a wake, but there wasn’t a boat in sight. They were adamant it was Ogopogo.


Ogopogo is to Kelowna what Nessie is to Loch Ness

You can’t live in Kelowna for any length of time without hearing about its mysterious lake creature. Ogopogo is to Kelowna what Nessie is to Loch Ness: a yet-to-be-identified cryptid that reputedly resides in the lake’s depths and surfaces just often enough to keep the legend alive.



For generations, a mysterious beast has been rumoured to lurk in Okanagan Lake's depths (Credit: Moccasin Trails)

It’s been described as a multi-humped serpentine beast, with green or black skin and the head of a horse, snake or sheep. Drawings depict a coiling sea dragon like what you might see on an old mariner’s map where it says, “Here there be monsters.” Around town, Ogopogo takes on a benign cartoonish form as a 15-foot-long green- and cream-coloured statue on the waterfront, the smiling mascot for the local WHL hockey team and as plush toys at souvenir shops. Like its palindrome name, its physical appearance – and very existence – is something no one can make heads nor tails of.

Ogopogo mania peaked in the 1980s when the region’s tourism association offered a $1m reward for proof of the creature’s existence. Greenpeace came forward and named it an endangered species, demanding that Ogopogo be captured only on film, and not in the flesh. American TV shows of the era, including In Search Of and Unsolved Mysteries, even reported on the Okanagan Valley’s mysterious inhabitant.

A 15-foot-long green- and cream-coloured statue of Ogopogo greets visitors along Kelowna's Waterfront Walk (Credit: Lisa Kadane)

Yet, it wasn’t until I attended the International Indigenous Tourism Conference in Kelowna last autumn that I realised the Ogopogo of Canadian popular culture – a creature that 16% of British Columbians believe in – only came about through miscommunication between Canada’s early European settlers and the Okanagan Valley’s original inhabitants, the Okanagan/syilx.

It’s not really a monster, it’s a spirit of the lake and it protects this valley from one end to the other

“It’s not really a monster, it’s a spirit of the lake and it protects this valley from one end to the other,” said Pat Raphael of the Westbank First Nation, a member nation of the larger Okanagan/syilx Nation Alliance, who guided me through the syilx’s ancestral lands bordering Okanagan Lake. As our bus drove south along the water, she explained that while many in Canada know the creature as Ogopogo, to the syilx, it’s n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ (n-ha-ha-it-koo), which means “the sacred spirit of the lake.” Raphael pointed out the brown hump of Rattlesnake Island across the water, where the spirit is said to dwell. She also had us practice saying n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ in nsyilxcən, the syilx language.

“It’s not Ogopogo! What are you, colonised?” she joked when a few of us struggled with the pronunciation and reverted to saying Ogopogo.

According to the Okanagan Valley’s original inhabitants, the Okanagan/syilx, the spirit of ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ watches over the lake (Credit: laughingmango/Getty Images)



Before European fur traders arrived in the valley in 1809, the syilx had been living in the area for at least 12,000 years. They had their own laws, justice system and beliefs. Chief among them was the importance of water, represented by n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ. It existed in two forms: a spiritual form and a physical, tangible form, which was embodied by the lake itself. Sometimes, though, the spirit would reveal itself from within the lake.

“In our stories, [n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ is] actually very dark in colour and it’s got the head of a horse and the antlers of a deer,” said Coralee Miller, assistant manager at the new Sncəwips Heritage Museum in West Kelowna. “Missionaries saw our water spirit and the habit was to demonise our spiritual beliefs.”

The syilx fed n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ symbolically, with tobacco and sage, and occasionally an offering of Kokanee salmon to thank the lake for providing food and water. “That’s where I think that misunderstanding came from – settlers saw us throw a little bit of meat in the water,” Miller explained.



Many tall tales of Ogopogo spread over the years, and there was once even a $1m reward for proof of the creature’s existence (Credit: Lisa Kadane)

Pioneers were soon telling stories of a serpent in Okanagan Lake that needed a live animal sacrifice to appease it and ensure a safe passage across the water. Once the idea of a bloodthirsty lake serpent took hold, it grew out of control – settlers began patrolling the lake with guns because they were nervous the beast would attack.

But by the 1920s (and likely in the absence of any actual human predation), cooler heads prevailed. Tourism officials named the creature Ogopogo after a catchy English folk song, whose lyrics included: “His mother was an earwig; his father was a whale; a little bit of head; and hardly any tail; and Ogopogo was his name.” N ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ had transformed from a revered spirit into a cartoon-like creature that would lure tourists.

Over time, Ogopogo is what made Kelowna a household name in Canada

It’s hard to know just how many people have travelled to Kelowna over the last century in the hope of seeing the mythical lake monster, but over time, Ogopogo is what made Kelowna a household name in Canada. For years, the creature appeared on Kelowna’s parade float, both in town and at larger parades in the Pacific Northwest and Alberta. Gift shops hawked gimmick jars of Ogopogo’s “eggs” and even its “feces” that would fly off shelves. While the tourism office no longer actively promotes Ogopogo today, the legend remains as popular as ever.

Many Ogopogo sightings have taken place over the William R Bennett Bridge (Credit: Andrew Strain, Destination BC Photography)

Yet, the misappropriation and commodification of n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ is a sensitive issue. To Miller, a member of the Westbank First Nation, n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ and Ogopogo are two separate entities and shouldn’t be conflated. One of the museum’s missions is to tell the story of the area’s Indigenous people, and talk about the importance of n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ in protecting the lake. It’s part of what she calls “de-programming;” questioning or deconstructing the colonial perspective on local history and culture. This is also an important step towards reconciliation, an ongoing, countrywide process of establishing and maintaining respectful relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Canadians.

This spring, Indigenous tour company Moccasin Trails is launching paddling tours on Okanagan Lake where guides will discuss n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ as a spiritual talisman – not a physical lake monster – and explain how it became appropriated.

We want people to leave our experiences with a better understanding of Indigenous culture

The canoe journeys begin with a feeding of the water ceremony. As the canoe glides across the lake’s glassy surface, a syilx cultural leader scatters sage and tobacco in the water while summoning the spirit world and telling his ancestors to keep everyone safe. Moccasin Trails co-owner Greg Hopf says the ceremony is powerful, and meant to illustrate the connection Indigenous people have with the earth, which is highly personal.

“It’s kind of what each person interprets the spirit to be,” he said. “We want people to leave our experiences with a better understanding of Indigenous culture.”



Indigenous-led tours will soon take visitors out onto Okanagan Lake to explain the importance of n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ (Credit: Moccasin Trails)

In downtown Kelowna, the Okanagan Heritage Museum works with the Westbank First Nation to tell a more thorough story of the region’s history. It redid its entire gallery in 2019 and represents syilx as a living culture, rather than focusing solely on the people’s way of life pre-colonisation. According to Kelowna Museums’ executive director, Linda Digby, sylix knowledge and perspective is now woven into every era depicted in the museum, and a display on Ogopogo explains how n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ was misunderstood by settlers and grew into a tourism boon.

“To settlers [Ogopogo] was a real thing,” said Digby. “They definitely misinterpreted what they heard from the Indigenous community and had no qualms about making up their own stories and appropriating from them, and it wouldn’t have even occurred to them they were doing that.”

As time wore on, the settlers’ inventory of stories grew – their neighbour saw the creature, or they themselves saw something strange in the lake. “You live here long enough everyone’s going to see something,” Digby said.

The Okanagan Heritage Museum recently redid their displays to tell a more balanced story of the region’s history (Credit: Matt Ferguson, Tourism Kelowna)

During my quest to understand n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ, I encountered a few people who are true believers based on what they’ve seen in Okanagan Lake. And they are far from alone: the museum’s archives are filled with newspaper clippings of Ogopogo sightings over the decades, along with stories about how a lake monster is good for the city’s bottom line.

“Ogopogo is great for tourism. It adds colour and panache and atmosphere,” said Robert Young, a University of British Columbia Okanagan earth sciences professor who is often called on as a voice of reason when an Ogopogo sighting occurs or new “footage” surfaces.

For Young, Ogopogo isn’t a question in biology, it’s a question in earth science processes – the way water moves over the surface of the earth. Thermal stratification in a lake can cause a wave to appear from nowhere when a denser layer of water slides beneath a more buoyant layer, as often happens in the spring or autumn, he explained. He calls it an “Ogopogo wave”.

Some locals are hesitant to want to disprove Ogopogo's existence, saying it's good for tourism (Credit: Meghan Reading, Tourism Kelowna)

This theory offers a plausible explanation for what people might be seeing on the water. But while Young is all for critical thinking about Ogopogo, he’s also loathe to disprove its existence. It should persist, he says, saying that Ogopogo is a Canadian cultural icon, and n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ is an important part of syilx beliefs.

I don’t worry a lake creature will nibble my toes when I go for a dip, but the power of nature gives me pause. I’ve started many days with a morning walk that leads to a ridge ringed by mountains overlooking Okanagan Lake and the rounded hills and extinct volcanoes of the Thompson Plateau behind it. I’m in awe I live in such a stunning place. When the wind ripples the water and sways the ponderosa pine trees growing on the hillside, I feel a connection to the natural beauty of my home. Maybe that spirit of place is my interpretation of n ̓x̌ax̌aitkʷ.


https://plawiuk.blogspot.com/search?q=CRYPTOZOOLOGY

https://plawiuk.blogspot.com/search?q=LAKE+MONSTERS

Stunning sea of 'snow monsters' take over volcanic mountainside in Japan
By Zachary Rosenthal, Accuweather.com

Visitors walk before illuminated "Juhyo," trees covered with frozen snow, during a night event at the Zao hot springs ski resort in Yamagata Prefecture, Japan. Also called "snow monsters," the Juhyo phenomenon happens when small particles of crystallized ice and snow strike coniferous trees under the strong winter winds. File Photo by Franck Robichon/EPA-EFE

Feb 21 -- At an elevation of more than 6,000 feet near the top of a volcano exists a land of snow monsters, a mountainside that is home to fleeting figures that come each winter and then fade along with the cold weather as spring approaches.

It might sound like material for a scary children's book, but these monsters are nothing to fear -- they're just one of nature's quirky and unique creations that materialize in wintertime.

On the summit of the volcanic Mount Zao in Japan, about 220 miles north of Tokyo, an unusual natural phenomenon gives birth to snowy, monster-like figures every year.

The strange occurrence, which the Japanese call "Juhyo," leads to the creation of thousands of "snow monsters" that rest on the mountain during the winter.

Those who come to see the monsters can safely walk near them, ski or snowboard alongside the creatures, or view them from the comfort of a cable car while enjoying stunning views of Japan.

The snow monsters can look even cooler at night, as some of the monsters are illuminated in a variety of flashy colors. Drone footage captured recently from above shows a frozen sea of snow monsters festooning the mountainside.

According to reporting from The Atlantic, the seemingly mystical occurrence can be explained by the unique mechanics of a few different weather conditions that all come together in just the right way.

The snow monsters are created through the repeated process of high winds blowing snow onto rime ice that then binds to trees and tree branches, creating snow clumps that appear monster-like.

Strong high winds also blow water from a nearby lake toward the mountainside, and the water droplets freeze on the branches. Also, fresh snow can fall and also bind to the ice. This process happens over and over throughout the winter.

Much like a snowflake itself, the chaotic process that forms the monsters ensures that no two snow monsters are entirely identical.

The unusual snow creatures are considered by many to be one of Japan's best winter attractions. Thousands of tourists travel across Japan each year to see the so-called snow monsters, which typically are around from the end of January through mid-March.

#CRYPTOZOOLOGY #CRYPTID #LAKEMONSTER
Gator or monster snake? Photo at South Carolina lake resurrects talk of tribal legend
BY MARK PRICE DECEMBER 30, 2019

Legends of a monster snake in the Catawba River date back for centuries, and some cited proof of it in a grainy photo posted taken over the weekend at Sunset Point picnic area on Lake Wylie. JESSICA PLATE PHOTO

The legend of a monster snake in the Catawba River dates back centuries, but some see new proof in a grainy photo taken over the weekend at Sunset Point on Lake Wylie.

The photo, posted online Sunday, shows what could be the head of something sticking out of the lake, with a sinuous wake spinning several feet behind it.

Within hours of it being posted online, talk of alligators, giant water snakes and a monster were being shared on Nextdoor.com, a community networking site. Lake Wylie, which does not have alligators, is a dammed section of the Catawba River, south of Charlotte.

“Lake Wylie monster?” Jessica Plate posted with her photo.

“I know this picture isn’t the greatest, but tonight while walking around the lake in our neighborhood we saw this 3 to 4 foot ‘thing’ moving in the water. At first, I thought it was a dog or deer, shoot, maybe a scuba diver!”

The photo was taken around 7:15 p.m. Saturday, and the thing appeared at first to be swimming toward her, then turned away, she wrote. “The wake it made was enormous! Please, does anyone know what it was!”
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Plate told McClatchy news she wasn’t aware of the river snake myth until she started reading the responses posted to the photo.

She thinks the sensible explanation is that it was an alligator, despite the fact alligators don’t live in Lake Wylie. Commenters on the photo had a long list of other possibilities.

One person suggested it was a “a big nasty snake,” while another said it was nothing more than a floating log

“Beavers, muskrats, and otters were a few other guesses,” Plate said. “There is no way, this creature was way too big!”

The Catawba Nation, a tribe of indigenous people based in the same area, has folklore that tells of multiple river monsters. One involves “monstrously large snakes” that prey on people in the rapids and giant “leech-like creatures,” reported John Hairr in the 2013 book “Monsters of North Carolina: Mysterious Creatures in the Tar Heel State.”

As in the case with the infamous Loch Ness monster, proof has never been found of anything large or monstrous in the river, though alligators have been found occasionally in the Catawba.

Lake Norman, another site near Charlotte created by damming the river, is said to be home to a creature called the Lake Norman Monster. A website is devoted to alleged sightings of it, which some say is a giant fish more than a monster snake.


Jessica Plate remains curious about whatever it was she saw and intends to keep investigating.

“Definitely will go back to the shore (with more people for evidence) to try and catch another glimpse!” she told McClatchy.

Tetrapod Zoology
My New Book Hunting Monsters: Cryptozoology and the Reality Behind the Myths

Much of my 2015 was taken up by the writing of several books, some of which are, I’m pleased to say, due to see print in 2016. Today I’m happy to announce that the first of these is out: it’s my Arcturus book Hunting Monsters: Cryptozoology and the Reality Behind the Myths (Naish 2016)...

By Darren Naish on February 16, 2016


Right now, Hunting Monsters only exists as an ebook. If you’re at all like me, this might be something of a disappointment, since I don’t get much satisfaction from ebooks and think of them more as badly formatted word documents, not as books at all.

Front cover of Naish (2016). I like it.

Anyway, if it sells well enough in digital format, we’ll then be releasing a hardcopy version. The good news is that the ebook version is criminally cheap (£2.39, US$3.45). Also, remember that you don’t need a kindle to read it – you can download a kindle app, for free, for any device, and thereby read it on your smartphone or PC or whatever.

There are a large number of books out there on cryptozoology already, so what’s special about this one? Hunting Monsters is a sceptical, pro-science take on cryptozoology; something along the lines of Binns (1984), Campbell (1986), Radford & Nicklin (2006) and Loxton & Prothero (2013). But that doesn’t mean that it’s a vicious debunking that leaves us all sad and disheartened – we can get something positive out of this; read on.
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Hugh Gray's Loch Ness monster photo is not a swimming dog or a giant salamander or worm-like animal, but a swan with a submerged head. This explains why it's so white. Look carefully and you can see the wings, tail and ankle joint. Swan image by Peter Gray (no relation... I presume!), from Naish (2016).

A reasonable amount of novel investigation of cryptid sightings and images is recounted. Classic water monster episodes like the Daedalus and Valhalla accounts and the Sandra Mansi photo are discussed in view of recent evaluations, and I’ve also included much of the new work on lake monster images released by Dick Raynor. Without giving too much away, I want to say that the famous Hugh Gray Loch Ness monster photo of 1933 is not a swimming dog, or a salamander-like beast, or giant anachronistic Tullimonstrum… but a swan. Yes, a swan. And the infamous Peter O’Connor photo of 1960 – the one that depicts what looks like an inflated plastic bag with a stick for a head – has proved to be the inverted hull of a kayak called a Tyne Prefect. You can even see the base of the rudder support!
Cropped version of the O'Connor Loch Ness monster photo - note how the far left part of the image (normally cropped out!) looks weird for what's meant to be part of an animal's body. It's a good match for the corresponding part of an inverted kayak (see Dick Raynor's study here).

And then there are my evaluations of Rilla Martin’s Ozenkadnook tiger photo, various of the key yeti and bigfoot accounts, a critical appraisal of the kraken (no, it is not the same thing as Architeuthis), the St Augustine blob and other sea monster carcasses, and more. I even obtained and read Jonathan Whitcomb’s ropen book…

Rilla Martin’s 1964 Ozenkadnook tiger photo - shown at left - has always been enigmatic and difficult to interpret. What's with the tall shoulders and pale stripes? (as per the interpretation at right, by Darren Naish). See Naish (2016) for current thoughts.

While previous authors have focused on the ecological and morphological problems attached to the superstar cryptids (for example: could a beast the size of Nessie really make a living in Loch Ness?; how could a creature like bigfoot evade detection in modern North America?), few have discussed the fact that cryptozoological hypotheses invoke very specific models pertaining to evolutionary history.

In recent years, some apparently good evidence for bigfoot has dissolved under scrutiny. Alleged dermal ridges have proved to be artifacts of the plaster-pouring process, as demonstrated by Matt Crowley (image of plaster ridges by Matt Crowley, used with permission). And claims that the lustrous pelt and realistic muscle tone of 'Patty' can't be replicated by a suit are highly questionable - look at the realistic tone and texture of the obviously fake suit on the right (photo by Darren Naish).

What’s notable is that, while cryptids themselves are posited as novel, exciting elements of the fauna, the evolutionary scenarios required to allow their existence virtually always involve novel, unprecedented events for which there is, alas, no evidence. The giant long-necked seals of the cryptozoological literature require that certain (unknown) pinnipeds evolved radical ecological, morphological and behavioural novelty; a view of bigfoot or the yeti as a giant, bipedal pongine requires that our views on the evolution of hominid bipedality and anatomy be substantially revised; arguments that the almas (or almasty or almasti) is a remnant Neanderthal are contingent on the idea that Neanderthals underwent radical change for which we have no evidence; and so on and on and on. Cryptozoologists have thought about this stuff a lot and written about it as well, but it has mostly evaded sceptical evaluation (for previous coverage see Conway et al. 2013).

Sea monsters and other mystery beasts - the creature shown here is Heuvelmans' 'Yellow-belly' - have taken on a life of their own ever since cryptozoologists have devised morphological configurations and evolutionary histories for them. But isn't this all a house of cards? Compare 'Yellow-belly' with the eyewitness accounts Heuvelmans based it on.

And what of the interplay between cryptozoology and creationism? I say stuff about that in my chapter on the mokele-mbembe and ropen (Naish 2016).
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A new frontier: cryptozoology as culture

However, I hope that Hunting Monsters is seen as more than a mere curmudgeonly debunking, or as yet another heavy-handed sceptical smackdown. One of my arguments, made repeatedly throughout the book, is that cryptozoology is culture. Even if cryptids don’t exist – in the corporeal, biological sense of the term – they still exist in the nebulous sense of their having a place in the psychological landscape, and this remains a fascinating issue worthy of further study. 

Blu Buhs (2009), required reading as goes the cultural context of bigfoot.

People ‘see’, describe and report the creatures they do because they interpret their recollections, sightings and encounters within the cultural framework in which they were raised. It is, so it seems, an inevitable consequence of being human that we imagine large, frightening creatures to lurk beneath the surface of the water, or human-shaped beasts in forests and other wild places.

There’s also a case to be made that people of a given subset will be more inclined to investigate or believe in mystery animals than others: this topic is explored at length in Blu Buhs (2009).

Indeed, the fact that belief in these creatures will not die – despite a compelling and impressive lack of evidence – makes it seem that they’re an almost immutable part of our psyche. Is there, then, really some ingrained need in humans to imagine, believe in, or see monsters? I don’t know the answer, but I think it’s a question worth asking and investigating.
 

Which Loch Ness monster would you like to believe in? We most certainly do not see consistent descriptions of a single biological entity.

Distinct from but linked to this apparent cultural role of cryptozoology is our ability to perform as witnesses and ‘data recallers’. It’s no secret that people generally perform very badly when it comes to describing and recalling observations, especially those made fleetingly or when under stress. And sceptics of cryptozoology often point to the field’s over-emphasis of the value of eyewitness data as one of its primary flaws (Loxton & Prothero 2013). How we perform as witnesses and recallers and why we fail or succeed when we do is another fascinating subject – and I say that it’s linked to the cultural role of cryptozoology because a case can be made that our preconceptions and biases are linked to cultural and societal archetypes, memes and concepts.

  

Standard reading on cryptozoological scepticism: Loxton & Prothero (2013).

We’re at an early stage in understanding this stuff. Or, at least, those of us who aren’t experts in it are at an early stage. What I’m saying – by now it’s probably clear – is that, while bigfoot and Nessie and so on might not be ‘real’, they’re likely ‘real’ enough, culturally and/or psychologically, to be significant to us. I think that that’s important. We’re calling this whole subject ‘post-cryptid cryptozoology’, and I hope that Hunting Monsters is perhaps epiphanic on this front to at least some of its readers.

So there we have it – long-time readers of Tet Zoo will know that this book represents the culmination of an evolving set of thoughts and hypotheses.

The Daedalus encounter of 1848 remains one of the most pivotal and influential of sea monster reports. Was it actually a misidentified rorqual, as argued by Galbreath (2015)? This is more compelling when you look at Lieutenant Edgar A. Drummond's sketch.

And finally...

As always with anything written by humans, there are a few errors that are making me cross. In a discussion of the Daedalus sea monster sighting, I say that the beast had no neck, and then immediately go on to say that its mane was located some way along… its neck. There’s also a contradiction as goes how the Daedalus monster is treated – it’s a skim-feeding Sei whale at one point (as per Gary Galbreath’s 2015 article) and an unresolved enigma at another. Whoops. And there are a few dumb typos and incorrect terms, as there always are. I hope you can forgive these transgressions.

For previous Tet Zoo articles relevant to the issues covered here, see...
Best lake monster image ever: the Mansi photo
A ‘lake monster’ caught on film at Lake Champlain
Rilla Martin’s 1964 photo of the ‘Ozenkadnook tiger’
Cryptozoology at the Zoological Society of London. Cryptozoology: time to come in from the cold? Or, Cryptozoology: avoid at all costs?
The amazing Hook Island sea monster photos, revisited
The Cryptozoologicon (Volume I): here, at last
Is Cryptozoology Good or Bad for Science? (review of Loxton & Prothero 2013)

Refs - -

Binns, R. 1984. The Loch Ness Mystery Solved. W.H. Allen & Co, London.

Blu Buhs, J. 2009. Bigfoot: the Life and Times of a Legend. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.

Campbell, S. 1986. The Loch Ness Monster: The Evidence. The Aquarian Press, Wellingborough, UK.
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Conway, J., Kosemen, C. M. & Naish, D. 2013. Cryptozoologicon Volume I. Irregular Books.

Loxton, D. & Prothero, D. R. 2013. Abominable Science! Columbia University Press, New York.

Naish, D. 2016. Hunting Monsters: Cryptozoology and the Reality Behind the Myths. Arcturus, London.

Radford, B. & Nickell, J. 2006. Lake Monster Mysteries. University of Kentucky Press, Lexington.

The views expressed are those of the author(s) and are not necessarily those of Scientific American.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR(S)


Darren Naish


Darren Naish is a science writer, technical editor and palaeozoologist (affiliated with the University of Southampton, UK). He mostly works on Cretaceous dinosaurs and pterosaurs but has an avid interest in all things tetrapod. His publications can be downloaded at darrennaish.wordpress.com. He has been blogging at Tetrapod Zoology since 2006. Check out the Tet Zoo podcast at tetzoo.com!

Recent Articles
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Crazy for cryptids: The International Cryptozoology Museum blurs the line between fact and fiction
Founder Loren Coleman has been searching for Bigfoot and other legendary creatures for almost six decades

Sep 2nd 2019
EXTRAORDINARY PLACES, ROAD CULTURE
By Alexandra Charitan


In March 1960, Loren Coleman watched a film on the Yetis of the Himalayas. When he inquired about the creature (also known as the Abominable Snowman) in school, his teachers were less than helpful. They told him to “get back to work” because “[Yetis] don’t exist.” Coleman decided to conduct his own research, and a lifelong interest in cryptozoology—the study of legendary or unknown creatures—was born.

Over the past six decades, Coleman has written letters, articles, and books about cryptozoology, he has taught at universities around New England, and has conducted investigations in 48 states. As he searched for cryptids (alleged animals such as lake monsters, hairy bipeds, or swamp creatures), Coleman collected more than 10,000 objects.

A Bigfoot photo-op. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

The museum’s entrance. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

“People would give me, donate, or sell me cryptozoology items from the beginning and my home became a museum of sorts,” Coleman says. The first item was a flag from Sir Edmund Hillary’s 1960 expedition to collect evidence of the Yeti. In 2009, Coleman’s collection of native art, foot casts, hair samples, models, and other memorabilia opened to the public as the International Cryptozoology Museum (ICM)—the first of its kind in the world.

ICM is located in a strip of shops and restaurants on Thompson’s Point along the banks of the Fore River in Portland, Maine. To reach the entrance of the small museum, I have to walk through a restaurant, Locally Sauced, which serves burritos, nachos, and pulled pork sandwiches.

A revitalized, industrial waterfront featuring craft breweries, an outdoor concert venue, and an ice-skating rink may not seem like the most natural place to find a museum dedicated to a fringe pseudoscience, but that’s the thing with mythical creatures—they pop up where you least expect. 

To get to the museum, visitors walk through a restaurant. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan
Bigfoot and the Dover Demon

Probably the best-known cryptid in North America is Bigfoot (also known as Sasquatch), and he has an appropriately-big presence at the ICM. I encounter at least three versions of the upright, ape-like creature before I even pay my admission. A carved, wooden totem-style statue sits outside of the museum, and wooden cutouts line the otherwise-sterile hallway that connects ICM to Locally Sauced.

The museum includes several “Bigfoot Parking Only” signs, casts of the creature’s namesake big feet, and numerous dolls and other artwork devoted to Bigfoot. The infamous 1967 Patterson-Gimlin film plays on a loop, and visitors are encouraged to take a selfie with an eight-foot-tall replica. Although Bigfoot is traditionally associated with the Pacific Northwest, a sign urging people to “visit Squatchachusetts” proves that all over the country, people want to believe.

Posters in the museum. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

A cast of Bigfoot’s big foot. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

It’s hard to pick favorites, but Coleman has a soft spot for a creature closer to home: the Dover Demon. The small, orange, hairless being was reported by four different people over the course of one week, in Dover, Massachusetts in 1977. It was spotted both sitting on a wall and leaning against a tree. Eyewitnesses described it as having large, glowing eyes and tendril-like fingers. Although skeptics have dismissed the Dover Demon as a foal or a moose calf, “the whole idea of cryptozoology is to be open-minded about the possible discovery of new animals or species,” Coleman says.

While some people are quick to dismiss cryptozoology as a silly pseudoscience, Coleman urges people to not only open their minds, but their eyes and ears as well. Most cryptids had been appearing in folklore and local legends for thousands of years before Coleman brought them to Portland. “Listening to Indigenous people is key,” he says. “Ethno-known information is important, and then you can look for physical evidence.”

Loren Coleman, founder of the International Cryptozoology Museum. | Photo courtesy of Loren Coleman.

Fact is fiction

ICM is billed as “the world’s only cryptozoology museum,” but that’s no longer true. In fact, “truth” is a loose concept within the confines of a museum dedicated to cryptids, the very existence of which haven’t yet been verified by traditional science. A lot of the “evidence” presented in the museum may seem suspect, but the roots of cryptozoology are planted firmly within the realm of provable science.

“Hidden animals with which cryptozoology is concerned, are by definition very incompletely known,” Bernard Heuvelmans wrote in the 1988 journal Cryptozoology. ”To gain more credence, they have to be documented as carefully and exhaustively as possible by a search through the most diverse fields of knowledge. Cryptozoological research thus requires not only a thorough grasp of most of the zoological sciences, including, of course, physical anthropology, but also a certain training in such extraneous branches of knowledge as mythology, linguistics, archaeology, and history.”

A handpainted banner. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

A mythical beast. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

You can’t break the rules without first learning what they are, and according to ICM’s website, “cryptozoology is a ‘gateway science’ for many young people’s future interest in biology, zoology, wildlife studies, paleoanthropology, paleontology, anthropology, ecology, marine sciences, and conservation.” As such, the museum also features exhibits on creatures that were once thought to be too fantastical to be real or long since extinct—until actual, live specimens were discovered.

In 1938, fishermen off the coast of Africa discovered a coelacanth, a fish that was thought to have become extinct around 66 million years ago. Between 1938 and 1975, 84 more specimens were caught and recorded, and Coleman’s collection includes the only life-size model of the rediscovered fish displayed in North America. The two-floor museum also includes alleged Yeti hair samples and a FeeJee Mermaid—half monkey, half fish—created for a film about P. T. Barnum, who notoriously loved a hoax.
I want to believe

I have a feeling that P.T. Barnum would have loved ICM—the longer I browse the exhibits, the harder it becomes to distinguish fact from fiction. Since actual artifacts are understandably hard to come by, the museum has several full-sized art sculptures including a Tatzelwurm (a mythical, cat-headed serpent) and a lifesize thylacine (a real-life dog-kangaroo hybrid that is now thought to be extinct).

A mermaid creature. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

One of many Bigfoot depictions. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

I try to keep an open mind, but after a few hours spent browsing Coleman’s collection, I wouldn’t exactly consider myself a cryptozoology convert. However, everything known was once unknown, which seems to also suggest the opposite: With enough time and evidence, anything unknown can presumably become known.

“Cryptozoology is all about patience and passion—and so is the museum,” Coleman says. “People enjoy themselves if they come visit to allow new ideas in. The museum teaches critical thinking but also open-mindedness.”Previous

The elusive Fur Bearing Trout. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

Another depiction of Bigfoot. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

Bigfoot signs. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

A collection of skulls. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

Bigfoot or giant ape? | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

Footprint casts. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

Various examples of scat. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

Cryptozoology-inspired labels. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

A Fiji Mermaid. | Photo: Alexandra Charitan

SUCH CREATURES WERE POPULAR IN FOLKLORE MUSEUMS, 

WHEN I WAS A KID WE WOULD GO ANNUALLY THROUGH BANFF ON VACATION

AND I ALWAYS STOPPED AT THE FOLKLORE MUSEUM THERE WHERE SUCH A 

HALF CHIMP HALF TROUT MERMAN/MERMAID WAS ON DISPLAY

HOWEVER THE REAL THRILL WAS THE 12 FT KODIAK BEAR, LUCKILY STUFFED.
SEE BELOW

Swamp creature memorabilia. | Photo: Alexandra CharitanNext

From Labor Day until Memorial Day, the International Cryptozoology Museum is open Mondays, Wednesdays, and Sundays, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., and Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays from 11 a.m. to 6 pm. It is closed on Tuesdays.






Where to Find the World's Best Hometown Monsters
Where to Find the World’s Best Hometown Monsters
Here are 25 places to see yetis, sea monsters, Sasquatch, and other cryptids.

BY MOLLY MCBRIDE JACOBSON FEBRUARY 24, 2017

A "sea devil" from Icones animalium (1553). CONRAD GESSNER/PUBLIC DOMAIN
In This Story

PLACE
Mothman Statue

PLACE
Piasa Bird

PLACE
Pope Lick Trestle Bridge


A CRYPTID IS A CREATURE whose existence, diplomatically put, cannot be proved or disproved by science. Cryptid lore tends to be less fantastical than ghost stories or fairytales, but not altogether believable. For some though, an unusual rock, unexplained crop circles, a footprint, or some hair are all the evidence they need that there are creatures unknown to humanity, hiding in the woods.

In these places, tales of mysterious creatures have become so embroiled within local narrative that whether the beast actually exists or not doesn’t matter anymore. Can you imagine Loch Ness without its monster?

HAIRY HUMANOIDS

The Sasquatch, or as it’s colloquially known, Bigfoot, is America’s best known cryptid. It is typically depicted as a giant ape, standing around seven feet tall. Sasquatch lore extends back to American Indian mythology, which describes hairy wild men living in the woods. Anomalous sightings continued into the 20th century, but Sasquatch mania reached its peak following the famed Patterson-Gimlin tape.

Bigfoot is generally associated with the Pacific Northwest, with most sightings reported in Washington. Ape Canyon was the site in which a group of miners came under attack by a gang of wild “apemen” in 1924. According to the five miners, all of whom survived the incident and seemed convinced of its facts, they were asleep in their cabin when the assault started, and the beasts seemed out for blood. The event was widely publicized and no logical explanation was ever found.
Ape Canyon: Sasquatch Country
COUGAR, WASHINGTON  

 

Ape Canyon, where the miners were attacked by “apemen.” JORDAN/CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

The Sasquatch mythos has caught many in its spell. Refusing to accept claims that Bigfoot sightings are actually black bears or intentional hoaxes, believers continue their search for the hidden primate. California, Oregon, Washington and Canada are dotted with Sasquatch museums and research institutions for those who want to see footprints, photos, and other evidence.
Bigfoot Discovery Museum
FELTON, CALIFORNIA  

Bigfoot Discovery Museum in Felton. INFIDELIC/CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
China Flat Museum Bigfoot Collection
WILLOW CREEK, CALIFORNIA 

Bigfoot Museum artifacts. ATLAS OBSCURA USER LADYLAURADEMAREST

Bipedal hairy beasts aren’t confined to the West Coast though. Illinois and Ohio have remarkably high rates of Bigfoot sightings, and Arkansas has its own permutation: the Boggy Creek monster.
The Boggy Creek Monster
FOUKE, ARKANSAS

  

A Boggy Creek monster mural. ATLAS OBSCURA USER NICHOLAS JACKSON

Florida has its own version of Bigfoot too. Its presence is announced by the foul odor that earned it its nickname: the Skunk Ape.
Skunk Ape Research Headquarters
OCHOPEE, FLORIDA 

A sign directs visitors to “SKUNK APE TERRITORY.” JOHN MOSBAUGH/CC BY 2.0
SEA MONSTERS

Ever since sailors first traversed the ocean they have returned with stories of unbelievable creatures emerging from the murky depths. Perhaps it’s because we didn’t (and still don’t) really know what lies beneath the ocean’s surface, a whale or squid could be mistaken for the Leviathan or a Kraken.

That lore is celebrated in places like Skrímslasetrið, Iceland’s sea monster museum. Maritime history is inextricable from Icelandic identity, which includes many tales of ocean beasts lurking just off the edge of the map.
Skrímslasetrið
ICELAND

1590 map of Iceland with sea monsters, all of which are detailed at Iceland’s sea monster museum. AUSTRIAN NATIONAL LIBRARY/PUBLIC DOMAIN

Creature stories also provided a useful explanation for misunderstood natural phenomena. The geyser of Kauai’s Spouting Horn blowhole was originally attributed to a giant lizard monster trapped beneath the rock.
Spouting Horn Blowhole
KOLOA, HAWAII  

 

Spouting Horn Park. GARDEN STATE HIKER/CC BY 2.0

Lakes have their fair share of mystery too. The Loch Ness Monster is the most widely known, but prehistoric serpentine beasts have been reported on almost every continent.
Lake Tele: Home of the Legendary Mokèlé-mbèmbé Monster
EPENA, REPUBLIC OF THE CONGO

A sketch of the Mokèlé-mbèmbé. JEAN-NO/FAL 1.3 

Lake Labynkyr: Home to a Siberian Sea Monster
RUSSIA 

Lake Labynkyr, purported home of ferocious lake monster. PAUKRUS/CC BY-SA 2.0

Monument to Lake Champlain’s Monster, “Champ”
BURLINGTON, VERMONT

A statue of “Champ.” COURTESY OF J.W. OCKER

That said, not all sea monsters take the form of slithering water snakes. The Kelpies of Scottish lore are massive demonic horses found in rivers and streams.
The Kelpies
GRANGEMOUTH, SCOTLAND

The Kelpies MICHEL CURI/CC BY 2.0

MERMAIDS

Mermaids are another sea beast, albeit a significantly more alluring version. Much of our modern mythos surrounding mermaids comes from Hans Christian Anderson’s The Little Mermaid, but before the 19th century, mermaids were thought of as the deceptive, even evil sprites, no doubt based on the sirens in Homer’s Odyssey.

Doxey Pool: Home to a Malicious Mermaid
STAFFORDSHIRE, ENGLAND 

 

Doxey Pool, where a mermaid named Jenny Greenteeth is said to seduce and drown young men. MICHAEL ELY/CC BY-SA 2.0

The myth of Feejee mermaids was transported to the West from Japan. Travelers saw mummified “mermaids” in shrines like the 1,400-year-old one at the Tenshou-Kyousha Shrine. Allegedly, this mermaid was once a fisherman who trespassed in protected waters and was transformed into a hideous creature as punishment. 

Tenshou-Kyousha Shrine Mermaid Mummy
FUJINOMIYA, JAPAN

The ancient mermaid mummy. ATLAS OBSCURA USER JUSTIN ARNOLD

These weird hybrids, crafted from the upper half of a monkey and the bottom half of a fish, may have been inspired by the Japanese kappa, a mischievous water spirit.

Despite the fact that they were nothing like the lovely fishtailed maidens of fairytales, Feejee mermaids (as they came to be called—allegedly brought back from Fiji, not Japan) captured the Western imagination. They were quickly disproved as fakes, yet after P.T. Barnum had one in his famous sideshow, no cabinet of curiosity was complete without one. 

WHEN I WAS A KID WE WOULD GO ANNUALLY THROUGH BANFF ON VACATION

AND I ALWAYS STOPPED AT THE FOLKLORE MUSEUM THERE WHERE SUCH A 

HALF CHIMP HALF TROUT MERMAN/MERMAID WAS ON DISPLAY

HOWEVER THE REAL THRILL WAS THE 12 FT KODIAK BEAR, LUCKILY STUFFED.

The Banff Mermaid
BANFF, ALBERTAThe Banff mermaid, one of the most famous Feejee mermaids. BANFF LAKE LOUISE/CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

The Hull Mermaid
HULL, ENGLAND

The Hull Mermaid, one of the oldest Western Feejee mermaids. 

ATLAS OBSCURA USER KELVIN1084

Feejee Mermaid at the Nature Museum
GRAFTON, VERMONT 

Closeup of the face of the Feejee Mermaid. COURTESY OF J.W. OCKER

CHIMERAS
The chimera, another creature of Greek mythology, was said to have the body of a lion, the head of a goat, and a snake for a tail, though today the term is applied to any creature with the body parts of various animals. Nobody does body horror like the Ancient Greeks, whose Minotaur myth (the half-man, half-bull trapped as the protector of the labyrinth) persists to this day.
Labyrinthos Caves: the Minotaur’s Home
GREECE 

A map drawn in 1812 depicts the network of tunnels and caves forming the labyrinth. FRANZ WILHELM SIEBER/PUBLIC DOMAIN

Chimera made their way into American folklore. The Texas Woofus in Dallas is a longhorned pig-legged sheep-bird. Its critics call it pagan, and they may not be so far off the mark.
The Texas Woofus
DALLAS, TEXAS

Re-creation of the Texas Woofus in Fair Park in Dallas. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS/LC-DIG-HIGHSM- 29146 (ONLINE) [P&P]

Another American chimera is the Piasa bird, a mysterious feathered beast painted on a rock in Alton, Illinois. The painting has been there since at least the 1670s, though no one knows its origin.

Piasa Bird: Alton’s Mythical Monster
ALTON, ILLINOIS 

 

The elusive Piasa Bird. ATLAS OBSCURA USER MATTB

The chimera best known to Americans is the jackalope, a jackrabbit with the antlers of a buck. Mismatched animals like this abound around the world though, likely because hucksters could prove their existence through falsified taxidermy, or “gaffs.” Still, reports of bunnies with massive horns proliferate in the Southwest and elsewhere.

A “Wolpertinger” at the German Museum of Hunting and Fishing
MUNICH, GERMANY

 

A “wolpertinger.” ATLAS OBSCURA USER DINOBOY89
A “Skvader” at Biologiska Museet

STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

  

The skvader, a rabbit with the wings of a grouse. ATLAS OBSCURA USER JIBLITE

Not all cryptids and chimera are leporine and sweet though. Some are more sinister, like the Pope Lick Monster, named after the Pope Lick Trestle Bridge it has been sighted beneath. It is said to be a monstrous man-goat hybrid that lures its victims onto the railway trestle.

Pope Lick Trestle Bridge
LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY 

 

The Pope Lick Trestle Bridge, which the monster is said to live beneath. DAVID KIDD/CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

The Jersey Devil was another cryptid seen throughout New Jersey in the 19th and early 20th century. In 1909 alone, hundreds of people reported seeing an unknown creature flying over the Pine Barrens, a forested area on the Jersey coast. They described it as something like a kangaroo with hooves and leathery bat wings that would let out a terrifying shriek before disappearing from the sky. The Jersey Devil hasn’t been reported in recent years, though its memory is now thoroughly embedded in New Jersey folklore.

Jersey Devil Display at the Paranormal Museum
ASBURY PARK, NEW JERSEY

Jersey Devil artifacts at the Paranormal Museum. ATLAS OBSCURA USER JANE WEINHARDT

One of America’s more recent cryptids is the Mothman. In November of 1966, numerous people reported seeing a man-like figure with wings spanning upwards of ten feet. Those who saw the creature from their cars reported that its eyes shone red like bicycle reflectors when their headlights hit it. After a local bridge collapsed, killing dozens, Mothman sightings ceased. Conspiracies began to arise. The sightings had all been near the TNT area, a WWII munitions factory, leading some to surmise that the Mothman was a military experiment or an alien visitor.

The mystery was never solved, though skeptics claim it may have simply been an owl. Nevertheless, the story inspired a book and several films, and Point Pleasant commemorates its cryptid with a storefront museum as well as a downtown statue.
Mothman Statue

POINT PLEASANT, WEST VIRGINIAT

he Mothman Statue in Point Pleasant. OZINOH/CC BY-NC 2.0

Cryptids come from all kinds of sources—misunderstandings of natural phenomena, tall tales, and sometimes, sheer human ingenuity, as with Karachi’s very strange fortune-telling fox woman, Mumtaz Begum. They can become a mascot for the place that claims them, a weird source of pride for the people that live there.

Is there a cryptid lurking in your hometown we should know about? Have your own Feejee mermaid or creepy chimera? Add it to the Atlas!

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