This was an interesting post from Reddit. You know I’ve never been fond of the yelling and knocking technique, my technique has always been to enter the woods passively.
But what about throat singing to communicate. It’s less aggressive and more mesmerizing I would think.
By the early 21st century, throat-singing was once again used to lull babies to sleep, lure wild and semidomesticated animals, help gain the favour of the spirit of the place, and summon shamanic spirits and Buddhist gods.. . -Brittanica
If throat singing can lure semi domesticated animals in, what about a bigfoot. Would this be more passive and pleasing to them?
“The primatologists at the University of St. Andrews discovered that wild gibbons in Thailand have developed a unique song as a natural defense to predators. Literally singing for survival, the gibbons appear to use the song not just to warn their own group members, but those in neighbouring areas.”—Science Daily
2022 herr we go! Now we have demons unleashed! Joking aside, this is a story I want to follow so I can see what becomes of the rock. Should they repair it, or let it remain as and where it is?
“It was nearly midnight when he started on his return over stony hills and hollows. Though he was a bold youth, he became silent as he approached the lonely valley known as Rocky Ravine. When half way through the tortuous cliff between the hills a sound attracted his attention. On his right, near tho top of the hillside, a curious figure was seen creeping from rock to rock and keeping well in the shadows. It carried something which gleamed brightly now and then as the moon’s rays fell upon it. It came nearer aud nearer the farmer, who had crouched down behind a clump of blackberry bushes, with a strange feeling of dread within him. The mysterious being animal or man approached until it reached the roadway within ten feet of the boy, when with a bound it sprang to the top of a huge boulder, where it crouched for a moment in the full glare of the moon. Frank Rose gave one look back and then shut his eyes with a gap of horror. The thing upon tho rock was a man. But what a man ! When Frank got home that night he told his story of what he had seen upon the way of a creature which, though it walked on “all fours” and was covered with hair from head to foot, carried a gleaming axe and displayed other indications of being human. It was gaunt but muscular, and had burning eyes that shone through long, fancied locks of hair. He had seen this thing but for a moment as it crouched upon a rock. Then it leaped down on the other rock , and he made his way out of the deserted valley as quickly as possible. Young Rose’s story created little agitation among the neighbors. They practical pooh-poohed it, the superstitious added it to their list of ghost tales and inwardly resolved never again to be caught in the neighborhood of Rocky Ravine after nightfall….
But the adventure was not to end so lightly. On the very next night, Henry Simon and William Downey, stock buyers, living in another county, rode within a short distance of the dreary valley, when they were astonished to hear the reverberation of a succession of blows, evidently made by some instrument of steel or iron. They tied their horses and walked up the dark ravine until they arrived at a tremendous cavity which had evidently been excavated by human hands. Twenty feet below in tho darkness some one was striking blow alter blow upon tho rocky bottom of the pit. ” What are you doing down there?”‘ shouted Simon. For answer a stone came whizzing through the air, narrowly missing Downey’s head. A big, hairy creature sprang out of the hole with a frightful yell and disappeared with surprising rapidity over the side of the hill, still carrying its steel tool, though running apparently upon four legs. The traders were Stupefied with astonishment, aud lost no time in getting out of the neighborhood.”
“Little Wolf is my spirit guide; he keeps me safe and loyal. To the pack, to my family, to my tribe; We hunt together, moon father and I. Moon mother watches over the pups that sleep. While we hunt so we all can eat I am sure the pup dreams of his time to hunt But our pup watcher is hypervigilant. One snapped twig, and she’s ready to fight to the death. Because no one’s aloud to disturb the pups rest Father Moon gives me the nod And now the hunt is on until the dawn I am the wolf now, we are the wolves now Listen closely for my howl Husband, Johnny…I hear faintly from the door It’d time for you two to wake up now You can be the wolves no more It’s morning now your hunt is through And you have work and wolf school to go too So kiss that baby brother Quick, come here now and kiss your mother I will keep an eye on your sleepingbrother while you’re gone And I’ll count the minutes while I wait for you to return “
In the January 1887 Del Norte Record the following article told of a close encounter with Bigfoot, then called Wild Man, in the area between Marble Mountain and Happy Camp. The experiencer, Mr. Jack Dover, was considered an upstanding and trustworthy citizen with a high credibility factor.
I do not remember to have seen any references to the ‘Wild Man’ which haunts this part of the country, so I shall allude to him briefly.
Not a great while since, Mr. Jack Dover, one of our most trustworthy citizens, while hunting saw an object standing one hundred and fifty yards from the bushes.
The thing was of gigantic size – about seven feet high – with a bull-dog head, short ears and long hair; it was also furnished with a beard, and was free from hair on such parts of its body as is common among men.
Its voice was shrill, or soprano, and very human, like that of a woman in great fear. Mr. Dover could not see its foot-prints as it walked on hard soil.
He aimed his gun at the animal, or whatever it is, several times, but because it was so human would not shoot.
The range of the curiosity is between Marble Mountain and the vicinity of Happy Camp. A number of people have seen it and all agree in their descriptions except that some make it taller than others. It is apparently herbivorous and makes winter quarters in some of the caves of Marble Mountain.”
– found in The Hermit of the Siskiyous by L.W. Musick
Whenever I think of Melon Heads my mind pictures the Garbage Pail Kids. These are one of the least covered cryptids out there.
There are a few states out there that can lay a claim to these warm and fuzzy cryptids. Michigan, Ohio and Connecticut.
This version of their origins is from the great state of Connecticut. Here is the history of them according to the lore on Wikicheatia…
“The melon heads are descendants of a Colonial-era family from Shelton-Trumbull who were banished after accusations of witchcraft were made against them causing them to retreat to the woods. This variation attributes the appearance of the melon heads to inbreeding. Melon Heads allegedly prey upon humans who wander into their territory.”
I chose that tale because you know I love the history of the colonists. I can almost see this situation happenings. Many early settlements banished people and families from their settlements, it was the worst punishment because you would most likely starve or freeze to death. It’s the unthinkable taboo, but to survive they may have had to make some desperate choices.
Inbreeding could also happen amongst the banished with just a few others maybe that have also been banished. As far as cannibalism goes, they already have proof that the Jamestown Settlement had practiced cannibalism in their desperate hours before they all disappeared. Maybe when they disappeared they become melon heads too.
Moving on to the melon head tales of Ohio. From Wikipedia…
The melon heads are primarily associated with the Cleveland suburb of Kitkland. According to local lore, the melon heads were originally orphans under the watch of a mysterious figure known as Dr. Crow (sometimes spelled Crowe, Krohe or Kroh or known as Dr. Melonhead. Crow is said to have performed unusual experiments on the children, who developed large, hairless heads and malformed bodies. Some accounts claim that the children were already suffering from hydrocephalus, and that Crow injected even more fluid into their brains.
Eventually, the legend continues, the children killed Crow, burned the orphanage, and retreated to the surrounding forests and supposedly feed on babies.
And lastly the lore from Michigan. Again from Wikipedia…
The melon heads of Michigan are said to reside around Felt Mansion, although they have also been reportedly seen in southern forested areas of Ottawa County. According to one story, they were originally children with hydrocephalus who lived at the Junction Insane Asylum near Felt Mansion. The story explains that, after enduring physical and emotional abuse, they became feral and were released into the forests surrounding the asylum. The Allegan County historical Society asserts that the asylum never existed, although it was at one point a prison; however, the story has been part of the local folklore for several decades.
We know most lore has some kernel of truth in there, and all these tales have a similar theme. People abandoned, banished or runaways from society who fled to the forest. If you came upon these people in the forest you would be alarmed. If they were tortured in an asylum or infirm in some way maybe even with birth defects their appearance may be unsettling to say the least.
Did they become cannibals to survive a harsh winter? They most likely would. We have never known the harshness these people suffered through. Do I believe these melon beads are a cryptid? I’m going to say no. To many stories can be easily explained like above but when I’m visiting these states and wandering their forests I’ll keep my open…just in case.
Sasysquatchgirl 