Lore - Legends 9: Monsters of the Woods

Episode Date: September 4, 2023

Legends 9: Monsters of the Woods The woods can be a place of peace and tranquility. But if the legends from around the world have anything to teach us, it’s that there are always exceptions to the rule. Narrated and produced by Aaron Mahnke, with writing by Harry Marks and research by Cassandra de Alba.   Sponsors Squarespace: Build your own powerful, professional website, with free hosting and 24/7 award-winning customer support. Start your free trial website today at Squarespace.com/lore, and when you make your first purchase, use offer code LORE to save 10%. Mint Mobile: Get your new wireless plan for just 15 bucks a month, and get the plan shipped to your door for FREE, go to MintMobile.com/lore. BetterHelp: Lore is sponsored by BetterHelp. Give online therapy a try at BetterHelp.com/LORE, and get on your way to being your best self.   Lore Resources  Episode Music: lorepodcast.com/music  Episode Sources: lorepodcast.com/sources  All the shows from Grim & Mild: www.grimandmild.com   ©2023 Aaron Mahnke. All rights reserved.

Welcome to Lore Legends, a subset of lore episodes that explore the strange tales we whisper in the dark, even if they can't always be proven by the history books. So if you're ready, let's begin. The woods can be one of the most peaceful and tranquil places you'll ever find. The sounds of songbirds and squirrels going about their life overhead, invisible creatures in the underbrush, the rustle of leaves in the wind, you get the idea, it can feel almost magical as though the world around you just melts away. In the woods there are no bills, no groceries, no commutes, no traffic jams. There's only the quiet contemplation that arises when nature replaces all distraction. But when night falls and the moon casts its pale glow, those trees can loom tall, like

monsters, complete with gnarled arms and sharpened claws. In the dark, the woods feel a whole lot different. They take on a more sinister color in the absence of light, where every animal scurrying in the shadows and every cracked twig could mean your demise. As Robert Frost once wrote, the woods are lovely, dark, and deep. But in those depths are things we cannot see. Sounds we can't explain. Our ears and minds play tricks on us. Was that simply the cry of a fox or the scream of someone being murdered a hundred yards away? The forest at night is where our imaginations run wild with thoughts of what could be lurking in the shadows. Yes, the woods can be lovely, dark and deep. But after hearing the next four

stories, I doubt you'll ever sleep again. I, Slovakia, and Poland, there is a spirit. He's been called many things over the centuries, less pravadni, which means righteous one of the forest, or Mishko Velnyas, the forest devil. But most commonly he goes by a simple five letter name, Leshy, which translates as, he from the forest. Leshy is something of a Russian lorex who protects the forest and its animals. He's often spotted alongside gray wolves and bears and tells the birds when it's time to migrate for the season. Those who wish to do harm to the forest or its denizens have been met with his wrath.

Loggers and hunters have either gone missing or been unsuccessful in their hunts because they have not appeased Leshy, who does not ask for much. Hunters, for example, must promise not to kill more than Leshy has allowed, and they can only hunt on specific days. Leshy's punishments for deviating from those rules can vary, from being whipped with the tops of the trees, to being stricken with a severe illness. So, how does one make a promise to a Fora spirit? Well, one hunter took off his cross and swore allegiance to Leshy, before giving him the holy communion that he intended to take for himself. Although it wasn't uncommon for local peasants to furrow their eyebrows at the men who prayed to Leshy with such fervor.

These peasants sometimes believe the hunters and herdsmen who did so wielded occult powers over the forest as well. According to folklorists, some forests are home to multiple Leshy's that will fight over their domains, and the effects of these battles can be seen in filled trees and frightened animals. Windstorms and hurricanes have also been blamed on such leshy fights, with activity much higher in the spring. But not all leshy activity is destructive, some say they hibernate in the winter while

others believe that they die each autumn. After winter, as the ground thaws, they are reborn. Some who have encountered him in the forest claim to have heard him singing, laughing, or whistling among the trees, and he has a reputation among many as a prankster. Just don't anger him. He carries with him a weapon to let the other woodland creatures know that he is in charge. It's been said that a mushroom's wrinkles are the result of Leshy whipping at its cap. Now if the stories are true, forest visitors who have angered the Leshy have not fared well against him, with some not even living to tell the tale. He's been known to lure unsuspecting trespassers, usually children, in a few different ways.

One is by mimicking the voices of their parents and siblings, another is by shifting into a different form entirely, like that of a tree or a mushroom or an animal, or even a half human half plant hybrid. His true form though varies depending on the tail and who is telling it. In some versions he has horns on his head and cloven feet, with shoes that are worn on the wrong feet. And no matter where the sun casts its rays, he never casts a shadow. Others say that he bears a more human appearance, with no eyebrows or eyelashes. In this form he is old and withered with the pointy head and no right ear. He may also have long green hair or fur all over his body. Though in his eyes, occasionally glow.

And still there is a legend that paints the leshy as a giant, who is so large that his eyes are like the stars, and he trumps through the forest causing the wind to blow. To touch him is to feel skin like a tree's bark, dyed blue because of the color of the blood flowing through his veins. And once he leaves his domain, he shrinks back down, no taller than a blade of grass. Now after all of that, you might think that the Leshi is a solitary creature. His only friends, the Flora and Fauna around him, right? But he's said to have a wife, named Leshi Chica, and children as well, called Leshanki.

Leshi Chica may be a cursed kidnapped or a fallen woman who has gone to live with the Leshi, and their children on the other hand might be their own, or they could be the children of locals who have wandered into the forest, never to be seen again. Some of those children could be unbaptized babies that have been plucked from their parents by the Leshi, but there is a way to get someone back. All a person has to do is leave food at a crossroad in the forest. It must be wrapped in cloth and tied up with a red string. And still, even those who have been taken by the Leshy can escape if they refuse to eat

what he offers. Now all of this sounds terrifying, although it's possible the stories of the Leshy were designed to keep children from wandering into the woods unattended. But the spirits isn't all bad. He can even be friendly, sharing the secrets of forest magic with those who befriend him. And if that's your plan, you've got some work cut out for you. Summoning a leshy it seems requires the cutting down of young birch trees and forming a circle with their tops pointing toward the center.

Then you must remove any Christian symbols you might be wearing, stand in the center of the circle, and call out for him. Once he arrives, offer him eggs, salted pancakes, or pipe tobacco. You know, things you might have on you, and you might find yourself on the receiving end of some gifts of your own. And should you anger him in any way, simply make him laugh by putting your clothes on inside out or backwards, or wear your shoes on the wrong feet, or to banish him for good, you can throw salt on a fire or make the sign of the cross, either of which will send it away for good.

The Leshy is, according to the story's Accompanied Spirit, capable of great generosity or vicious retribution. So if you want my recommendation, it's probably best to stay on his good side if you dare to enter the woods. And when you do, make sure you bring a snack. Monsters are everywhere. In the United States, for example, there is another kind of spirit. One that has continued to plague the people living in the hills of Frederick County, Here's our everywhere. In the United States, for example, there is another kind of spirit. One that has continued to plague the people living in the hills of Frederick County, Maryland, for generations, and its reputation can be summed up with one frightening word.

Snelly-guester. It's a name that supposedly comes from the German phrase, schnellgeist, meaning fast-ghost, or quick spirit. Frederick County was a major destination for German immigrants dating all the way back to the 1730s. Many scholars though think that the Stanley Gaster legend is more of a hybrid, comprised of both Native American and Pennsylvania Dutch elements, with a dash of mountain man lore for good measure.

Now, if you find yourself wandering around Frederick County, you might see hex signs, such as a seven-pointed star, placed on barns and in the area. These are allegedly meant to ward off the beast. But what exactly is a snally-guester? Although description's very, it's most commonly said to be part reptile, part bird, and according to one article in the evening sun back in 1909, as big as a derigable. Its wingspan can stretch up to 14 feet wide, and it's said to have a metallic beak with razor-sharp teeth inside. On the ends of its feet, art talons made of hot, glowing metal, and in the center of its forehead, a single red eye. The snailigaster has also been depicted with tentacles protruding from its mouth,

like some eldritch horror from the pages of Lovecraft. Its keen sense of smell is only matched by the unpleasant odor emanating from its hulking body. Now it's said to be as old as the Jersey Devil, both of them born in 1735, if you're keeping track, although the earliest newspaper reports on the Snelli Guestor only date back to 1909. That year, the Middletown Valley register published an article about the spirit stating that a man had been seized by the winged creature which proceeded to sink its teeth into his jugular, drain his body of blood, and casually drop him off a hillside. One local even said that he took a shot at the monster, but the bullet bounced off.

Local papers continued to run stories about the snailigaster after that, even claiming that Teddy Roosevelt, who was about to wrap up his second term as president, was coming to Maryland to hunt for the creature himself. And one eyewitness reported that they spotted something yellow and roughly the size of a barrel nestled in the hills, and believed that it was a snally-gaster egg. Sightings of the creature were quite common, with witnesses unafraid to talk about their interactions with it. One man said that the snally-gaster spoke to him, saying, My, I'm dry, I haven't had a good drink since I was killed in the Battle of Chikamaga.

This was, according to the man, after it had swallowed roughly 100 gallons of water meant to fuel the boilers of the local brick plant. Oh, and the Battle of Chikamaga, that was a massive union defeat during the Civil War, a battle that had taken place over 600 miles away. Another report claimed that a group of men had engaged in a heated battle with the Snally Gaster outside the Emmett's Berg train station in March of 1909. The skirmish lasted an hour and a half, with the beast now able to breathe fire after eating from a colon.

Some said that the local game-warden, a guy named Norman Hook, had shown the Snally Gaster his badge and ordered it to leave a county immediately before the group chased it into the woods where it remained for several decades. Stanley Gaster sightings quieted down for a while after that, until November of 1932, when Marilyn Neuse papers began publishing sensational and mildly sarcastic articles about it. Baltimore's evening sun newspaper ran one tongue-in-cheek reports, claiming the creature had been seen wearing water wings and riding a bicycle. That same paper also published what they advertised as the scoop of the decade

the first published close-up of the Bovalopus Snailigaster. Bovalopus, if you're curious, is a nonsense word. Often associated with the Snailigaster, meant to add a scientific flair to the reports. Then as for the photo they published, it depicted what looked like a dragon riding a penny farthing, not as menacing as the eyewitness statements would have you believe. By December of that year, reports of the Stanley Guesters demise were everywhere. One paper reported that it had been shot down, when in reality all that had been injured was a large owl.

Another account claimed that the snailigaster had been attracted to the smell of a 2,500 gallon vat of moonshine in the small town of Froghello. Upon flying over its alluring fumes, the creature was overcome by the scent of the alcohol and fell out of the sky and into the vat where it drowned. Conveniently, prohibition agents had been tipped off about the moon-shining operation and arrived on the scene not long after. They found that the snailigaster was nothing more than a skeleton. It's flesh, having been eaten away by the high quantity of lye in the illegal hooch.

Of course, these articles and reports were not simply about a wild-flying reptile run a muck. They'd also been written with a strong political undercurrent. The very first Stanley Gaster article didn't mince words. It stated that these so-called vampire devil only attacked people of color. Were these articles trying to frighten African Americans out of Maryland? Well, quite the opposite, actually. They were more of a warning

that politicians were working against their best interests, hence the slang term used to describe unscrupulous politicians at the time, Snollygoster. Like I said, monsters are everywhere. Then I challenge any of you to find one that seems more American than the snally-gaster. But with that said, I'm not sure what's scarier. The vampire devils in the sky, or the next one on our list. The Hodeg. A hundred miles away, in the dense forest of Wisconsin's north woods, is a special kind of cryptid. It's local to the town of Rhinelander, in the northern part of the state, and its story grew from the tales told around the fires at the area's many logging camps.

The creature is known as the Hodeag, and according to legend, it was born out of the ashes of a cremated lumber ox. This Hodeag was the same color as the ox it had come from and possessed its strength, along with attributes from other forest animals as well. It was as cunning as a fox and savage as a bear, not something to be trifled with in the forest on a dark night. Now historians believe the word Hodeag comes from old lumberjack slang. It could relate to the term for a kind of gardening hoe, or maybe a pickaxe.

Although based on pictographs discovered on the shores of Lake Superior, it's possible the Hodag might be connected to Mishipeshu, the Ojibba Water Panther. The Hodag was first spotted by a local man named Jean Shepard, who worked in the logging industry in 1893. His job was known as Timber Cruising, or Land Looking. He was like a baseball scout, except instead of up and coming players, Sheppard evaluated areas of land based on how much money could be made from harvesting the trees for lumber. But it does need to be said that any story coming from him was going to be a problem,

because Sheppard was also known as the PT Barnum of Northern Wisconsin. He was something of a prankster, having once tried peddling a rare scented moss that turned out to be nothing but regular moss that he had sprayed with perfume. He also owned a hotel where he had rigged a fake leaping fish in the nearby lake to convince anglers that it was fully stocked. So his claim of having witnessed a Hodeag probably wasn't something that people were quick to accept. He described it as having the body of a dragon, with fearsome fangs lining its mouth, and six horns protruding from its back. It also smelled like a combination of skunks and rotting meat.

And according to one newspaper article from 1893, its tail was covered in, and I quote, the most deadly hooks imaginable. But maybe Shepard wasn't so far off the mark. The same article also reported how some locals took up arms against the creature and ventured into the woods to hunt it down. They grabbed their rifles, and according to the article, and I quote, large bore squirt guns loaded with poisonous water, and then they tracked the beast down to a tamerak swamp. With the Hodeag cornered, the hunters released their bravest dogs, which were of course quickly torn to pieces.

The men then shot at the beast until their guns overheated, at which point they pulled out their knives, as well as several sticks of dynamite in the hopes of killing it once and for all. They didn't have much luck in exterminating it though, they only angered it further. In a rage, the Hodeag started knocking down trees around the hunters, while its breath turned into black-tark coal smoke, and that smoke, plus the stench of the dog's remains, mixed together, creating an unholy fog of death. But eventually the hunters prevailed, and successfully burned the Hodeag to death after an exhausting nine-hour battle. They dragged its charred carcass back to town and victory.

Three years later, Jean Sheppard returned, and brought with him an even more outrageous claim. Not only had he spotted another Hodeag, but he had captured it alive. He blocked off the entrance to its den with large rocks, before using a long stick to insert a chloroform rag into the cave, rendering the beast unconscious. For a time, Shepard told people that he'd been keeping the beast in his barn, a declaration that unsurprisingly garnered him attention. And of course, visitors.

And so when people would come to his home, he would put on a nice suit and venture down to where he was keeping the Hodeag. His guests would listen as shepherd's screams in cries for help mingled with the creature's own growls and roars. They would hear glass breaking and wood snapping until shepherd returned, his suit ripped to shreds. He would then apologize saying that the Hodeag could not be seen that day, as it was too angry. But that wasn't enough. The people demanded to see the mythical beast for themselves, and so it made sense that

Shepard would capitalize on its popularity by bringing it to local fairs where he could charge admission for folks to see it. At the Onida County Fair, for example, Shepard put the Hodag on display in a tent, requesting that fairgoers leave their dogs at home for fear of them tempting the Hodag into eating them. And what people saw there was chilling. The Hodag that Shepherd had captured measured 7 feet long and 30 inches high. Its skin was black and covered in horns, two on its head and another 12 on its back.

And on the ends of its short legs were long, sharp claws. According to Shepard, the Hodeag only ate on Sundays and subsisted on a diet of white bulldogs. It also laid 13 eggs at a time from which it's young hatched. Unsurprisingly, nobody stayed in the tent for too long. Shepard was always quick to move them out, for fear of their own safety, he said. But that wasn't the true reason.

It was because his Hodag wasn't real. It was a wood sculpture carved by an artist named Luke Deerney, and it had been covered in old smelly hides from a local tannery and was operated by his son like a puppet to frighten the fairgoers. Shepard would go on to use his Hodag in a stage photograph recreating that legendary capture, but all he really did was show how absurd the whole Sheree turned out to be. But that still hasn't stopped locals from spreading

and even buying into the Hodag lore. After all, we all need excuses to blame for our problems. And what's better than a monster? Every corner of our world seems to have a monster, and every monster has a story to go along with it. Like I mentioned earlier, the Hodeag's Wild origin is tied to the burning of a lumber ox. If tall tales and oxen sound familiar, then it should come as no surprise that the Hodeag legend eventually became intertwined with one of the most famous lumberjack stories of all time.

Paul Bunyan In the 1920s, Jean Shepard wrote a series of stories about Paul Bunyan and his faithful blue ox, Babe. In fact, Shepard would sometimes claim to be the originator of all Bunyan stories. And one historian, Michael Edmonds from Wisconsin, thinks this might actually be one of the few true things that Shepard ever said. The earliest Bunyan stories appear to have emerged from Wisconsin logging camps in the 1880s, while a young Eugene Shepard was working in the area. And the first stories about the giant lumberjack were recorded not far from his camp. They'd been told by a man named Bill Mulholland during the winter of 1885.

Now we don't know for certain whether Shepard and Mulholland ever met, but it's likely, and they would have run in the same circles, and one of the stories that Bill like to tell was about Paul Bunyan using Amuse to pull his sled Now a mousse-driven sled might sound fantastical, but the funny thing about this tale is that it was true, and it happened to Jean Shepard. In 1896, he apparently had a pair of mousse brought to Wisconsin from Minnesota for the purpose of pulling his carriage. Once they'd been trained, he had postcards made of him in the driver's seat, the two mousse up front ready to go. And he even claimed that they were faster than any horse-drawn carriage,

even though he never actually proved it. The first Bunyan stories appeared in print in the Duluth News Tribune in 1904, around the time that Shepard retired, and the legend has only grown ever since. Some claim that Paul Bunyan hunted down and killed all the Hodags with a special 8-inch claw, which he used as a toothpick. Others say that the original Hodag was formed from the flaming corpse of Bunyan's faithful ox, which burned for seven long years, only to transform into the legendary beast. Today, no one knows for sure, but Jean Shepard has been the one person at the center of it all for the last 130 years. Sadly, his days of telling tales are long gone. But the monsters? They'll be here forever. Like I said before, monsters are everywhere you look. From the forests of Europe to the woods of America's heartland, there seems to be a creature

for every community, which is why it was so hard to pick the ones we discussed today. Thankfully, we've got time for one more tale, and this one has some teeth to it. Stick around through this brief sponsor break to hear all about it. This show is sponsored by BetterHelp. Do you ever find that just as you're trying to fall asleep, your brain suddenly won't stop talking? Do your thoughts start racing right before bed bed or at other inopportune moments? I have been there so many times before myself, so I know exactly how it feels to get stuck

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That's MintMobile.com-LOR. Cut your wireless bill to $15 a month at MintMobile.com-LOR. Most of the things that haunt the shadows of the forest exist where roads and skyscrapers cannot go. But if you think you're safe from monsters and beasts, just because you're snug in a big city apartment, think again. Toronto is not only the capital of Ontario, Canada, but it's also the largest city in the country, and the fourth largest in all of North America. It had originally been home to a number of Algonquin-speaking native tribes, but the area

gained popularity among French fur trappers during the 19th century. By 1834, the city was officially incorporated. But here's the thing, as the city grew up, it also grew down. City workers carved out tunnels for Toronto's massive plumbing infrastructure, as well as its subway system. It also built sheltered passages between the buildings to protect residents and workers during frigid winter months. But as Toronto carved and shifted its underground landscape, it also rerouted various natural

rivers and waterways that had existed there for eons, and the city quickly learned that when you mess with nature, nature tends to mess back. One resident who identified himself to the newspapers only as Ernest had a terrifying experience in the tunnels below the city's Cabbage Town neighborhood in 1978. The reporter stressed that Ernest hadn't been the one to flag them down. They had actually come to him after learning about what he had witnessed down there. He told the Toronto Sun in 1979, the story of how he had gone down into the tunnel beside his house to look for a lost kitten. Except when he got there, he didn't find a cute defenseless creature. He found something

else. He described it as, and I quote, the eyes were orange and red, slanted, it was long and thin, almost like a monkey, three feet long, large teeth weighing maybe 30 pounds with slate gray fur. And not only did they exchange glances, but the beast spoke to Ernest as well. Go away, go away, it hissed at him, before bolting down one of the many tunnels in Toronto's underground labrith. Ernest as well. Go away, go away, it hissed at him, before bolting down one of the many tunnels in Taranto's underground labroth. Ernest, stricken with fear, fled immediately, as any of us probably would have done. And that fear only grew as he began to hear out sounds coming from the tunnel after

his encounter. They were described as animals in pain. Ernest never found out the true source of the sounds. The tunnel entrance eventually collapsed. Some believed that the creature destroyed it intentionally to keep others from finding him. Now, some who have read about Ernest encounter believe that he might have come face-to-face with the Memeguese, a dwarf-like creature with a hairy face.

They was often part of the stories told by the Ojibwa and other nearby tribes. Memeguese weren't known to be hostile, but behaved in a more joking and curious manner, a lot like the Russian Leshi. At worst, they might send a canoe off course, or steal things from those who did not show them some respect. But what Ernest saw in the tunnel that day was nothing like that. It was angry. Could it have been a Memeguese that had spent a little too long living underground,

or maybe a creature normally seen south of the border in Mexico? The blood-sucking Chupacabra. No one knows for sure, not even Ernest. But it's probably safe to say, whatever it was, it wanted nothing to do with the humans living above. Nothing good, anyway. Whatever it was, it wanted nothing to do with the humans living above. Nothing good, anyway. This episode of lore legends was produced by me, Aaron Manke, with writing by Harry

Marks, and research by Cassandra Dayalba. Lore is much more than just a podcast. There is a book series available in bookstores and online, and two seasons of the television show on Amazon Prime Video. Check them both out if you want more lore in your life. The information about all of that and more is available over at lorepodcast.com. And you can also follow this show on all the social media platforms like YouTube, threads, Facebook, and Instagram. Just search for lorepodcast, all one word,

and then click that follow button. And when you do, say hi. I like it when people say hi. And as always, thanks for listening.