RedHanded - ShortHand: Cajun Cryptids

Episode Date: July 14, 2026

Louisiana has more than its fair share of real monsters hiding in its deep, dark bayous. So, settlers’ nightmares about what else was hiding there – spiced up with African folk beliefs, plus Cajun and Creole folklore and a dash of Haitian voudou – quickly became a rogues’ gallery of gruesome monsters that couldn’t exist anywhere else.From a grim scaly monster, born in a voodoo ritual from the devil’s testicles, to a big hairy hominid known as ‘Swamp Thang’, these are the very worst of Louisiana’s cryptids.--Patreon - Ad-free & Bonus EpisodesYouTube - Full-length Video EpisodesTikTok / Instagram

Every culture has its boogeymen and indeed, boogie women and boogie nights. And everyone's nightmares tend to reflect their very specific unconscious fears. Mostly, though, they're pretty simple. Hard-working European peasant farmers inventing a monster who eats you for being lazy. Seen it all before. But what if you took that European farmer and sent him thousands of miles away to a strange far-off land? A land totally unlike the rolling hills that he was used to. One made up of vast, dense, uncharted swamp land

with vicious sharp-toothed beasts worse than he's ever imagined, and dark slow-moving water, hiding who knows what? And what if the tales, he then told, were spiced up yet further, with African folk beliefs and the rites and rituals of Haitian voodoo? Well, that's pretty much exactly what happened in the murky bar. of Louisiana. Louisiana's culture stands totally alone in the US, a hazy blend of stories, songs and ideas from all over the world. Beat that, Wyoming. So let's head to a place steeped in folklore,

the home of jazz and magic, Cajun and Creole, to discover what's really lurking in those deep, dark swamps. From a grim, scaly monster, born in a voodoo ritual from the devil's testicles, to a big hairy hominid known as Swamp Thang. These are the worst of the worst of the Louisiana cryptids. This is the shorthand. So, first things first. Clearing up some of those murky definitions, what do we mean when we say Creole, who are the Cajians,

and where does Louisiana's unique culture come from? Let's kick off with Creole. The first French explorers arrived in Louisiana in the late 17th century, sticking a flag down and claiming the whole Mississippi River Basin. And they named it Louisiana, after the mental sun king, Louis XIV. There was, of course, a whole network of indigenous tribes already there, plus the global slave trade was well underway. So soon enough, plenty of African-descended people came to Louisiana too,

and each contributed their own languages, rituals, music and food. Now, obviously, this wasn't some open-minded cultural melting pot. Enslaved Africans were required by law to convert to Catholicism. But it was more mixed than most frontier societies, and everyday life was most definitely shaped by all of these influences. The ideas that became Louisiana voodoo started with the blending of Catholicism and African folk beliefs, the use of gree-gree or talismans, folk healings, saints and spirits. So when people say Creole, they're talking about this blended culture.

Occasions, however, different kettle of frogs. and they came later. They're actually descended from French settlers on the Canadian coast around Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, an area that became known as Acadia. And the Acadians were mostly Catholic farmers from the west of France who fled persecution and the occasional witch burning by Protestants back home.

They were tempted over by the offer of free land and the opportunity to just farm and be Catholic in peace. Unfortunately for the Arcadians, who should be nipping at their heels in this brave new world? The British, obviously. After 30 years of war, the Arcadians were booted out in a period known as Le Grand Derangement, or the Great Ubeval. They were scattered all over North America,

but loads went to French-owned Louisiana. In their rough, dialect-heavy West French accents, Acadian became Cajian. Then the Haitian Revolution brought tens of thousands of Haitians, over two. And here we have our big cultural gumbo. Delicious. So when we talk about Louisiana folklore, we're not talking about Cajians, nor are they all Creole. Those are just two big influences on a massive collective culture. With all of that in mind, we're going to start our cryptotour of Louisiana with the big dog, quite literally. The Rougaroo is one of the most famous folk legends in North America.

It comes from the old French werewolf legend of the loop guru. The loop means wolf. And guru comes from an old Germanic word meaning man wolf. So wolf man wolf is what that means. Have you seen the trailer to Weirwolf? No. Robert Eggers's latest adventure. I know you absolute despised Nosferatu.

I did. Yes. So I didn't watch Nosferatu after you told me how much you hated it. But I really liked the witch that he did first. I love the witch. Which was fantastic. I haven't an opinion on Asfaratu, because you thoroughly put me off going to see it. Weirwolf, I don't know.

I'm worried it might be a little bit too much like. Because I also watched Northman. Northman I didn't see. I found that a bit challenging. The witch was outstanding. Yes, I agree. But I don't know. Watch a trailer for Werewolf.

Let me know what you think. Okay, well. When French settlers first arrived in Louisiana, they found themselves surrounded by dense woodland and mysterious. swamps and bayous. And their old folk stories were reimagined in this new world. Literally just like in the witch. And by the way, bayou isn't just the Louisiana word for swamp.

It's a murky, deep, slow-moving body of water that runs through a swamp, all of which gives the area a sense of unfamiliar, terrifying wilderness and hidden dangers lurking in the dark. As early settlers in a foreign land, they didn't have centuries of cultural knowledge based on dealing with this environment, especially since there are plenty of very real monsters hiding there, alligators, panthers and poisonous snakes to name but a few. With the Rougaroo, like a werewolf,

a single bite can turn the victim into a fellow Rougaroo. But unlike the werewolf, you can also change as a punishment for not being Catholic enough. And their definition of Catholic laws was pretty wide. Messy house, Rougaroo. Misbehaving children, Rougaroo. Not observing Lent. Big Rougaroo.

It was a classic folk legend to keep settled people on the straight and narrow. Don't rock the boat, or you'll turn into a wolf. And soon enough, the legend was imbued with voodoo. Voodoo is chock full of stories of curses and transformations, so it started to be considered a kind of hex or a spell. The enchanted Rougaroo preys on fear and stalks the swamps and woodlands waiting to strike. If you do manage to strike a fatal blow,

as soon as the first drop of wolfy blood is spills, turns back to a human. And they'll use their dying breath to warn their attacker, don't tell a soul. Because if you don't wait a year and a day before telling anyone, you yourself will become a Rougaroo. And if you see one in the wild, same deal. Keep quiet.

Which is a smart addition to a cryptid legend, even if there were loads of sightings, you wouldn't immediately know about it. The Rougarer as a symbol represents morality and the fear of the wilderness. and it absolutely worked. So moving on, by the 1720s, when it was still early settling days,

New Orleans was a growing city full of French fur trappers, traders and explorers. They were only missing one thing. The ladies. The Bishop of Quebec's solution for this big sausage fest was to choose a small group of wife-material women for them to marry. Specially selected women, or more accurately, girls,

were sent over in their hundreds as blushing brides for Louisiana's best and brightest. The coffin girls I know about this. Yeah. But the group sent to New Orleans in particular didn't make such a splash. The city's men were, in the words of one general, the scummer France.

They were a debauched lot, drinking, gambling and having illicit affairs with enslaved women. They needed good, virtuous women to put them right. When these women arrived, They were jumpy, timid and very pale, so pale in fact that their skin burnt and blistered in the Louisiana sun. And they carried these little scraggly-shaped boxes everywhere they went. Since the French for box is cassette,

they became known as the Casket Girls of New Orleans. They were housed in the city's Ursuline Convent. According to later legend, when word of their mistreatment got back to Louis XIV, he ordered them all to come back to France. But not all of them went. Rumours had been swirling about these pale, mysterious women with their strange caskets. And maybe you can see where we're going with this.

Stories about the Ursuline vampires spread like wildfire, especially after a nun went into a room where the strange boxes had been left behind and discovered them open and empty. The nuns were certain that something evil was afoot. They closed the door and sealed it with nails that had been blessed by the Pope himself, which they just had knocking around for just such an occasion. And so it's said that these blood-sucking succubies stuck around to prowl the moonlit streets of New Orleans looking for victims,

and probably a few ex-husbands to wreak revenge on. The old Ursuline Convent is a supremely popular ghost tour venue. So, if you would like a shot at vampire spotting, that would be a great place to start. For our next Cajun cryptid, we're heading back out of the city. Somewhere out to the east of New Orleans, near Littlewoods, was an abandoned, overgrown road, winding out into the wilderness. And it was said that if you walk down it, you'd eventually meet a horrible creature called the Grunch. The Grunch is a sickly-looking man-beast with slimy reptilian skin.

It has the head of a goat and glowing red eyes. Some said it could shape-shift, or even turn invisible. and if you're reckless enough to take a stroll down Grunch Road, yes, that's what they actually called it, then you were in for a very grim demise. First it would puncher you with its whip-like tail, and using that tail it would slowly drain every last drop of blood out of your body. Yes, like the jupacabra.

Pets and livestock were said to be found in the area totally drained of blood, and if you're wondering how such a gruesome beast came about, you're in for a treat. There are two popular origin stories. One concerns Marie Laveau, Louisiana's most famous voodoo queen, who I'm sure we've done at some stage. Yes, we have.

Halloween, I think, probably. They say that Laveur once took in a deformed baby who had been abandoned in town. But this backfired somewhat when the baby turned out to be the spawn of Satan himself. In a surprising but potentially expedient move, Leroux then quickly decided to castrate the infant. That way, he couldn't ever procreate and spread the baby Satan seed.

So in a dark ritual, she cut off his tiny little balls. But no sooner has she locked them off, the tiny testes themselves sprang up and transformed into a pair of grunches. One female, one male. And they attacked Marie Lovos savagely before fleeing off into the swamps. But some say that this story is just a load of absolute grunt.

The other explanation goes like this. Years before, there was a clan of albino dwarfs who lived in New Orleans. And that famous tolerance clearly only went so far. Because the townspeople drove this clan out into the swamps, following rumours of incest and dark magic. And out there in the bayous, the dwarf albinos descended into madness. They became savage, feral, incestuous. and cannibalistic.

They devolved into a race of feral monsters. Some even claimed that the albino clan made a pact with the devil himself. As long as they provided him with human sacrifices, the devil would give them dark powers and protection from the outside world. Sightings of the grunge pop up throughout the past century, including a group of Confederate soldiers in the Civil War

who reported being attacked by a horned demon who tore two of their party into pieces. Perhaps more surprisingly, reports skyrocketed much more recently. After Hurricane Katrina in 2005, the city of New Orleans was left in ruins and whole neighbourhoods were destroyed. Some said that the grunch had been driven from its swampy lair by the storms and that it took to stalking the desolate streets of New Orleans. And we've got one more Louisiana legend for you this week on shorthand.

It has been tough to whittle it down to just one, but we've done it anyway. We could have included a fishy fiend called the murbeying who swims off the Louisiana coast in the Gulf of Mexico. Or the wild girl of Cataula, a ferocious ferocious feral child who barks in gibberish and attacks those who roamed too deeply into the swamps. We could have chosen the lutein, a race of mischievous, shape-shifting sprites or house spirits, who, similar to leprechauns, imps and elves move around your house and hide things for you just for the crack. Or there is the Koshmah or the Fou Fouffolet. We are really spoiled for choice when it comes to Cajun Cary Criptids, but here we go. But no Criptid Roundup is complete without a big, hairy hominid.

So here goes. The Pacific Northwest has Bigfoot, the Himalayas, has the Yeti, and Louisiana has the Honey Island Swamp Monster. Otherwise known as Cajun Sasquatch, Louisiana Buggy, or Swamp Thang. Swamp Thang. The best one. In August 1963, retired air traffic controller Harlan Ford went with his friend Billy Mills in search of new camping and hunting spots.

They headed out into the massive, mostly uncharted Honey Island swamp of southeastern Louisiana. They hacked away at the cypress trees and Spanish moss as they went, traveling by boat and foot to go deeper and deeper in. And then, in a clearing, Ford saw a large creature on all fours. hunched over another animal, violently devouring it. Ford first thought that it must be some kind of big cat, but then it stood up on two legs like a man. It looked about seven feet tall with grey hair and,

Bien-sur, glowing red eyes. The animal's stench almost knocked him out. He described it later as stinking of rotting food or decaying flesh. Ford and Mills returned over and over again to the honey, island swamp in search of the creature. They eventually claimed to have found footprints, which they made plaster casts of and handed in to the LSU College of Agriculture. They depicted a three-toed webbed foot, up to ten inches long. Other eyewitness accounts followed. One hunter described it as watching him from behind a bush. Others heard eerie howls from

the swamp. Some said that what Ford had seen was actually an existing folk legend, a kind of human-monger. alligator hybrid called the Latiche, which you can pronounce Latiche or leech, whichever one doesn't matter. Some say that the Latish is the deformed soul of an illegitimate, unbaptized infant. Others say that it was a human child raised in the bayou by alligators. I can never say the word bayou without thinking of one of the first ever episodes of Orkillinophila I ever listened to. Is there a Bayou killer? I'm sure there is. Yeah, there is. So they were doing that story and I think it is Kiri that says it. It was like when I'm saying Bayou, it sounds, oh yeah, Bayou.

Like it's a question. Anyway, whatever it was, Ford dedicated quite a bit of his remaining years looking for the Swamp Thang, seemingly to no avail. But then, after he died, his daughter was going through his stuff and found this film, which I'm going to have a look at. Known footage of an alleged big foot type creature. Oh. Sold.

There you go. All right. So yes, you could say we know that there are black bears in the Honey Island swamp. Could it not just be one of those? You could also say those plaster casts could have been proved to be hoaxes made using carved wooden moulds pushed into the dirt.

But honestly, where's the fun in the? that. Louisiana has a hell of an imagination when it comes to what's hiding in its deeper, darker, more dangerous places. And probably that's just because so much of Louisiana is deep, dark and dangerous. So who knows? If you take a wrong turn while out for a stroll near the wrong bayou, you might just become lunch for a grunch. Or so far. Oh yeah, bye you.