Everyone in our family knew about the Hairy Man. We were always warned not to be in the woods after dark or the Hairy Man would get us. As a boy, I loved camping in the river swamp, but after dark, I didn't care much for leaving the light of the fire.
Many people thought the Hairy Man was something similar to Big Foot. Sightings were rare, but he had been seen. The stories were always the same. Hunters would come back to camp and tell about seeing a man-like figure, crouching on a tree limb or running away, covered in Spanish moss, eyes glowing, with a foul smell about him. I knew they were telling the truth, we all knew it.
As I grew older, I thought less and less about the Hairy Man, until one evening in 1976. I was hunting by myself in the Neadmore Swamp.
I had discovered a well traveled deer path leading through a strand of tupelo trees and sat patiently all afternoon. Darkness was fast approaching. I didn't want to leave, but then I heard an owl hoot in the distance, then another and another. Long ago owls were thought to be messengers of death. The owl calls were making their way down the swamp in my direction. The last owl hoot was close, but it stopped suddenly. Then I heard a screech, a panicked screech! The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. I decided it was time to go.
To get back to the truck, I had to go in the direction of that last owl call. I wasn't scared, I was just in a hurry. Walking through the swamp in the dark isn't easy, everything gets in your way. About 50 yards from the truck my boot caught on a cypress knee and I fell. While getting up, I noticed feathers everywhere, then an awful smell. I hadn't thought about the Hairy Man for years, but all of those stories came flooding back in an instant.
While standing there, something in the top of a tupelo tree caught my attention. I thought it was just Spanish moss, but then it moved. I decided to move even faster and quickly got back to the truck. The drive back to the highway was a long one. I wasn't scared, I just didn't want to get the truck stuck and have to get back out in the dark again.
Years later, I casually mentioned the story about the Hairy Man to my father-in-law, Al Theus, while we were running dogs near the Neadmore Swamp. Al was aware of the ghost tales, but said he knew the true story about the Hairy Man.
Al said when he was a boy, a man had carried his young son hunting in the river swamp. The man had decided to hunt near the Indian Mounds, a place not far from Neadmore Swamp.
The Indian Mounds were ancient Indian burial sites, mounds of dirt about five feet high and twenty feet around. The Creek Indians occupied that part of the country long before the Spaniards arrived. The Creeks were a peaceful people, but they did practice "sacrificing" with their burial rituals. Whenever an important elder died, the village would sacrifice a young child to be buried with the elder in the large dirt mounds, to help in the afterlife. Around these burial mounds was always a good place to hunt deer. Some of those mounds are still there today.
According to a Long County police report, the man had told his young young son to sit on a stump near the Indian Mounds until he came back for him. After several hours of hunting, the man made his way back to the Indian Mounds, but his son was gone, completely vanished. The father yelled and yelled, but heard nothing. The only things moving were several old crows flying about. After hours of frantic searching, the man returned to Ludowici for help.
Al said a large search party was put together that night, men from all over the county joined in the search. Back then it was a difficult and long ride to get from Ludowici to the river swamp. Many men with lanterns and blood hounds searched and searched. The young boy was never found.
After several days the search was called off, but the boy's father wouldn't stop looking for him. For months, the man could be seen searching around the Indian Mounds. He was becoming obsessed with guilt, refusing to talk with anyone, not even his wife could convince him to give up the search.
Then one night the man didn't come home. His wife became terrified all over again; she called the police and another search party was put together. One searcher claimed he caught a glimpse of a man running away from the search party. After a few days, all of the searchers gave up.
Al said for many years afterwards, hunters would report seeing an old, ragged-looking man in the river swamp. Most people believed it was the same man still looking for his lost son.
Al said he didn't know if it was the same man or not, but he did know one thing for sure. For a long time after the young boy disappeared, hunters would find crudely carved wooden toys left around the Indian Mounds, as if someone were leaving gifts for a young child.
Many people thought the Hairy Man was something similar to Big Foot. Sightings were rare, but he had been seen. The stories were always the same. Hunters would come back to camp and tell about seeing a man-like figure, crouching on a tree limb or running away, covered in Spanish moss, eyes glowing, with a foul smell about him. I knew they were telling the truth, we all knew it.
Near Encounter
As I grew older, I thought less and less about the Hairy Man, until one evening in 1976. I was hunting by myself in the Neadmore Swamp.
I had discovered a well traveled deer path leading through a strand of tupelo trees and sat patiently all afternoon. Darkness was fast approaching. I didn't want to leave, but then I heard an owl hoot in the distance, then another and another. Long ago owls were thought to be messengers of death. The owl calls were making their way down the swamp in my direction. The last owl hoot was close, but it stopped suddenly. Then I heard a screech, a panicked screech! The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. I decided it was time to go.
To get back to the truck, I had to go in the direction of that last owl call. I wasn't scared, I was just in a hurry. Walking through the swamp in the dark isn't easy, everything gets in your way. About 50 yards from the truck my boot caught on a cypress knee and I fell. While getting up, I noticed feathers everywhere, then an awful smell. I hadn't thought about the Hairy Man for years, but all of those stories came flooding back in an instant.
While standing there, something in the top of a tupelo tree caught my attention. I thought it was just Spanish moss, but then it moved. I decided to move even faster and quickly got back to the truck. The drive back to the highway was a long one. I wasn't scared, I just didn't want to get the truck stuck and have to get back out in the dark again.
The Real Story
Years later, I casually mentioned the story about the Hairy Man to my father-in-law, Al Theus, while we were running dogs near the Neadmore Swamp. Al was aware of the ghost tales, but said he knew the true story about the Hairy Man.
Al said when he was a boy, a man had carried his young son hunting in the river swamp. The man had decided to hunt near the Indian Mounds, a place not far from Neadmore Swamp.
The Indian Mounds were ancient Indian burial sites, mounds of dirt about five feet high and twenty feet around. The Creek Indians occupied that part of the country long before the Spaniards arrived. The Creeks were a peaceful people, but they did practice "sacrificing" with their burial rituals. Whenever an important elder died, the village would sacrifice a young child to be buried with the elder in the large dirt mounds, to help in the afterlife. Around these burial mounds was always a good place to hunt deer. Some of those mounds are still there today.
According to a Long County police report, the man had told his young young son to sit on a stump near the Indian Mounds until he came back for him. After several hours of hunting, the man made his way back to the Indian Mounds, but his son was gone, completely vanished. The father yelled and yelled, but heard nothing. The only things moving were several old crows flying about. After hours of frantic searching, the man returned to Ludowici for help.
Al said a large search party was put together that night, men from all over the county joined in the search. Back then it was a difficult and long ride to get from Ludowici to the river swamp. Many men with lanterns and blood hounds searched and searched. The young boy was never found.
After several days the search was called off, but the boy's father wouldn't stop looking for him. For months, the man could be seen searching around the Indian Mounds. He was becoming obsessed with guilt, refusing to talk with anyone, not even his wife could convince him to give up the search.
Then one night the man didn't come home. His wife became terrified all over again; she called the police and another search party was put together. One searcher claimed he caught a glimpse of a man running away from the search party. After a few days, all of the searchers gave up.
Al said for many years afterwards, hunters would report seeing an old, ragged-looking man in the river swamp. Most people believed it was the same man still looking for his lost son.
Al said he didn't know if it was the same man or not, but he did know one thing for sure. For a long time after the young boy disappeared, hunters would find crudely carved wooden toys left around the Indian Mounds, as if someone were leaving gifts for a young child.
Mike's Hunting Tip - If you become lost in the woods, stay put. We'll find you.
Mike Griffin, an old Ludowici boy from way back.
PS - All of my stories are true, mostly true, or maybe just made up :)
HOME PAGE
PS - All of my stories are true, mostly true, or maybe just made up :)
HOME PAGE
No comments:
Post a Comment