Bigfoot Stories Told by a UFO Abductee

Some of the strangest Massachusetts Bigfoot stories I’ve read appear in Jack Lapseritis’s 1998 book The Psychic Sasquatch: and their UFO Connection. These stories were told to the author by Betty Hill. Her name may be familiar to you because she and her husband Barney were allegedly among the first people ever abducted by a UFO. 

On the night of September 19, 1961, the Hills were driving south through New Hampshire’s White Mountains on their way home to Portsmouth when they noticed a strange light in the sky. Thinking at first that it might be an airplane or a meteor, they were quite surprised when the light turned out to be an enormous, disc-shaped spacecraft manned by small alien beings. The ship landed in front of their car, forcing them to a stop. The Hills then lost consciousness. When they awoke, they were once again driving but were now 35 miles farther south than they had been – with no memory of how they got there. 

Betty and Barney Hill and their dog (photo by John Fuller)

They were understandably troubled by this incident and sought help from a Boston-area psychologist. Under hypnosis, they both said they had been taken into the spacecraft, where they were examined by small, humanoid aliens. Their psychologist didn’t believe in UFOs and was unsure of how to interpret their story. The Hill’s weren’t entirely sure how to understand it, either. 

Betty and Barney didn’t talk widely about their experience, but in 1965 The Boston Traveler newspaper ran a five-article series about their alleged abduction. (The reporter who wrote it had obtained a recording of a talk the Hills had given, along with notes from UFO investigators they had spoken with.) The Hills’ story was soon picked up by the national press and they became minor celebrities. A book about their experience, The Interrupted Journey, appeared in 1966 and a TV movie, The UFO Incident, aired in 1975.  

Barney Hill died in 1969 at the age of 46, but Betty lived until 2007, when she passed away at the age of 85. She was a well-known figure in the UFO and paranormal communities during her life, and people often told her stories about strange things they’d seen. They knew she’d be sympathetic since she’d experienced something very strange herself. 

Although many stories she heard were about UFOs and aliens, others were about strange phenomena like Bigfoot. Sometimes they were about both, like the following. 

A woman only identified as ‘Kelly’ told Betty Hill that she was sitting at home in Longmeadow when she saw a UFO land near the Connecticut River. Understandably curious, Kelly went to the landing area to see if she could locate the craft. 

She did not, but did fined a large circle of flattened grass where the saucer had landed. Next to it she saw one enormous humanoid footprint in the sand. She thought it looked as if Bigfoot had been inside the UFO and tentatively placed just one foot outside of it before deciding not to go any further. 

After consulting with Betty Hill, Kelly and a neighbor decided to make a plaster cast of the footprint. They went back to the circle of crushed grass, but as they made the cast a black helicopter appeared in the sky above them. The helicopter flew low towards Kelly and her neighbor and they ran home, bringing the cast with them. According to Betty Hill, the cast of the footprint was 14 inches long. 

A few days later, Kelly and another friend drove to the landing area to better document the footprint, this time with paraffin wax and a camera. Once again, a black helicopter appeared as they began to make the wax cast. Kelly panicked and drove back home with her friend. Betty Hill claims that Kelly called the police to report the menacing helicopter, but she does not say how the situation was resolved. 

My copy of The Psychic Sasquatch!

The area where the UFO supposedly landed in Longmeadow is officially called the Silvio O. Conte National Wildlife Refuge, but it’s known colloquially as the Meadows. According to Betty Hill, it was a hotspot for Bigfoot sightings in the 1970s, and the police reported finding the bodies of several crushed animals there. They never learned what had killed them, but a local man Hill identifies only as ‘Joe’ suspected the culprit was not human. 

Joe knew a thing or two about crushing, because he once owned a car-crushing business in the Meadows near the river. That was where he saw Bigfoot. One hot summer night, he and some friends were drinking beer outside the trailer that served as the company’s office. As they sat talking, they heard something large move through the trees and bushes on the river bank. All the men went silent when they saw an enormous, hairy, eight-foot-tall humanoid emerge into the clearing. Joe later said that although the creature was unnaturally large, it had a human face with a long beard. 

The Bigfoot was unaware that it was being watched and began to examine the piles of crushed cars. The men stared in amazement as it effortlessly picked up one of the crushed cars – which weighed at least 1,500 pounds – and began to saunter off with it. 

Joe or one of his friends must have gasped, because the Bigfoot suddenly realized it was being watched. It put down the car, look quizzically at the men, and then walked down to the river and swam away. Joe told Betty Hill that he called the police, who made plaster casts of the footprints. Soon after seeing the Bigfoot, he closed his car-crushing business and opened a gas station in the center of town, far from the Meadows and anything strange that might live there. 

Sasquatch (image from Wikipedia)

Luckily, the Bigfoot that Joe and his friends encountered was peaceful, but a woman named Lorraine told Betty Hill that she once saw a different, more violent side of the creatures. Lorraine lived on a back road in a house that was adjacent to the Meadows, and had a large garden in her yard. One night, she was awakened by what sounded like two large animals fighting near her house. Without turning on the light, she peered out the bathroom window to see what was causing the ruckus. 

She was shocked to see two huge, manlike creatures rolling around in her vegetable garden, snarling and clawing at each other. She described them as “two very tall, massive, hairy creatures with rather long faces which were hairless, except for beards like human men, definitely not like an ape!” Eventually, one of the Bigfoots ran off in defeat, and the other one sauntered away a short time later. 

When she finally dared to leave the house in the morning, Lorraine saw that her vegetable garden was totally ruined. She soon moved to a house further away from the Meadows, where both she and a new vegetable garden could thrive without the threat of battling Bigfoots. 

Betty Hill said that these encounters all occurred between 1975 and 1978, but the stories are hard to verify. She doesn’t provide dates or last names, which makes them very hard to trace. Some elements in these stories, like the black helicopters or the Bigfoot strong enough to carry a car, might seem particularly unbelievable, but perhaps we aren’t really qualified to judge until we’ve seen the interior of a UFO like Betty Hill did. 

NecronomiCon 2026: Colonial Witches, Aleister Crowley, and H.P. Lovecraft

A couple weeks ago I attended NecronomicCon 2026, the biennial convention celebrating Rhode Island author H.P. Lovecraft and other artists and writers who created weird fiction. This was my fourth time attending and, as always, I had a great time meeting interesting people and learning strange and unusual things. I thought I'd share a few highlights here on the blog. 

First, I attended a session about colonial-era witches on film. The horror writers who were on the panel mentioned some of my favorite New England witch movies, like Robert Eggers' The Witch (2015) and that creepy, made-for-TV classic Crowhaven Farm (1970). They also mentioned a couple films that I'm adding to my watch list. One of them, The Sudbury Devil (2023) was filmed in Massachusetts with local actors. The plot focuses on two Puritan soldiers who are sent into the forest to investigate reports of witchcraft. Bad things happen, including some supernatural sex, so perhaps don't watch this one with the kids. The other is The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016), which I didn't even know was about witchcraft in Colonial New England. Spoiler alert: it is!

A scene from Crowhaven Farm. 

Speaking of witches, I gave a brief talk titled "Unwholesome Nocturnal Meetings: H.P. Lovecraft, Margaret Murray, and the Witches' Sabbath." Lovecraft read Margaret Murray's seminal book The Witch-Cult in Western Europe in the early 1920s and, like many readers, accepted its claims that the people accused of witchcraft were actually members of a secret pagan cult . More importantly, though, the book stirred his imagination as an author. Before reading The Witch-Cult, Lovecraft mentioned witches just twice in his fiction. After reading it, he mentioned witches, witchcraft, or the “witch-cult” in 31 additional stories, and even mentioned Murray’s book directly several times.

Lovecraft was particularly intrigued by the idea of the witches' sabbaths, those midnight, orgiastic gatherings where infants were allegedly sacrificed and the Devil was supposedly worshipped by his followers. He included witches' sabbaths in 19 stories, beginning with 1923’s “The Rats in the Walls” and ending with 1935’s “The Haunter of the Dark,” one of his final pieces of fiction. For Murray, the Sabbath was a purely human, non-supernatural event, but Lovecraft transformed it into a celebration of the non-human, a barrier-breaking festival demonstrating humanity’s insignificance in a cosmos controlled by inimical and uncaring forces. 

The cover slide from my talk!

I think my talk was well-received, and hopefully it will be published at some point. 

The last thing I want to mention is Strange Magick, a documentary from local director Bill Darmon. The film examines possible connections between Lovecraft, a New Hampshire writer named Myrta Little, and Aleister Crowley, the famous British occultist. Did Lovecraft visit America's Stonehenge in Salem, New Hampshire? Did Aleister Crowley plot to kill a Harvard professor while vacationing in New England? Did Myrta Little secretly meet Crowley and accept an assignment from him? 

A still from Strange Magick.

Strange Magick asks these questions and more. You may or may not accept the answers it provides, but I enjoyed seeing the filmmakers try to connect the dots between various strange, local topics. A couple people I know appear as talking heads, and the movie has good production values for what is obviously a labor of love. It also has great re-enactments, including Crowley performing some magickal feats and scenes from a few Lovecraft tales. 

The 90-minute version shown at NecronomiCon was compiled from four separate films Darmon and his colleagues made. It's not publicly available yet, but you can watch the four separate films on YouTube. I highly recommend them for anyone who likes weird New England lore!

Celebrating America's Birthday with a Sasquatch Sighting

It was America's 250th birthday this past July 4th - how did you celebrate? I visited friends and ate pizza they made in their outdoor pizza oven. So delicious! I know lots of people who went to barbecues, to the beach, and, of course, to watch fireworks. 

There are many fun ways to celebrate Independence Day, but no matter how you hard you celebrated, I think a Rhode Island man has us all beat: he saw Bigfoot on the Fourth of July.  

An exhibit at the International Cryptozoology Museum 

Okay, technically it was 1:44 am on July 5th, but I think that still counts as Independence Day. Kevin Klimas was driving home after visiting a friend at Beach Pond in Voluntown, Connecticut. It was late at night and the road was illuminated only by his car's headlights. As he approached an intersection, he saw something emerge from the woods:

"I had to hit my brakes to avoid a collision with this thing. Upon doing so I witnessed a bipedal,8-8½ foot tall creature swiftly crossing the road. It had coarse, matted, and greasy looking long brown hair covering every part of its body I could see. Its legs were shorter than its torso and its arms literally hung down to right around knee height. Must have had an 8 - 9ft "wing span" if it fully outstretched its arms. Extremely broad in the shoulders (4+feet easy) Thick with what I can only assume is muscle, and moving like on a mission. It never stopped nor did it turn to look at me. I was only able to see a side profile of its head and face. 



The top of its head seemed to cone up slightly and it had a jawline any pugilist would kill for. Minimal hair on its face. It stepped onto the road, took another step, then a third step which put it back into the woods on the opposite side of the road. Walked more like a human than any other animal. I was (and remain) dumbstruck. Took me a minimum of 60-90 seconds to regain control of my faculties and get my car moving again"(from the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization (BFRO) website).

You can also see Kevin Klimas talk about the sighting in this YouTube video. You may be skeptical about Bigfoot, but Klimas certainly seems sincere about whatever he saw on that Connecticut road. 

The BFRO investigators assigned to this case commented that the area has a history of Bigfoot sightings. Like much of New England, it's very woodsy, providing lots of cover where something large and hairy could lurk. The organization even hosted an expedition in the area a few years ago, but sadly didn't find anything.

An exhibit at the International Cryptozoology Museum

One of the investigators also hypothesized that the Bigfoot seen by Klimas may have been attracted by the sound of fireworks. He notes that there have been a few cases from other parts of the country where people shooting off fireworks in the woods have wound up attracting a Bigfoot. 

Why would this be? The investigator thinks Bigoot may misidentify the sound of fireworks as gun shots: 

"It may sound like hunters shooting. During deer season the sound of gunfire will sometimes indicate where a deer has been shot and eventually gutted. It is the gut piles (and particularly the liver) that a sasquatch want from a killed deer" (from the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization (BFRO) website). 

I hadn't heard that Bigfoot likes liver to eat before, but apparently that's one theory drifting around the internet. Since no one has ever captured a Bigfoot, I'm not going to speculate about what they may or may not eat. Instead, I'll suggest that maybe Bigfoot was attracted to the fireworks because he wanted to celebrate the Fourth of July? He is, after all, the quintessentially American. Nothing says "U!S!A!" more than a giant, hairy hominid. 

Sadly, I didn't get to see any Bigfoots during the holiday, but we did see lots of Bigfoot memorabilia the following weekend at the International Cryptozoology Museum. The museum has relocated from its old home in Portland to a new, much larger building at 490 Broadway in Bangor, Maine. 

Exhibits at the International Cryptozoology Museum

I was excited to participate in the grand opening celebration, and was even more excited to look at all the exhibits. Plaster casts of footprints, creepy mermaids, and a replica of Mothman were just a few of the weird and wonderful things at the museum. There was even a taxidermied coyote with three heads, which reminded me of Cerberus, the dog who guards the underworld, but New England-style. I highly recommend visiting if you like cryptids or just want to spend some time at a really unique museum.

I hope you enjoy these last few weeks of summer!

A Case of Spontaneous Combustion in Ipswich?

I have a confession to make: summer is not my favorite season. 

I like summer, but not as much as I did when I was a kid. Back then, I spent summer sitting in front of a fan reading the trashy horror paperbacks my aunt gave us. Now, I have to work and be productive, no matter how humid or hot it might be. Sometimes as I trudge to work, depending on the temperature, I feel like I might spontaneously combust. 

Spontaneous human combustion is the belief that people sometimes burst into flames without any external source of ignition. The part about "no external source of ignition" is important. Catching your clothes on fire while using the stove is not spontaneous human combustion. Suddenly and mysteriously burning to death while just reading a horror novel is spontaneous human combustion. 

I first read about spontaneous human combustion when I was a kid, probably in Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious Universe, which my brother owned, but the concept dates back to 1746. That was when the term was first coined by the Italian poet Paolo (Paul) Rolli, a member of the British Royal Society, to explain the mysterious death of Countess Cornelia Zangari Bandi.

On the evening of March 15, 1731, Countess Bandi retired to her bed chamber. After talking and praying with her maid for several hours, she sent the maid away and went to sleep. When the maid returned in the morning, she saw a terrible sight in the middle of the floor: the charred remains of the countess. And there weren't even a lot of remains. According to Rolli, 

Four Feet Distance from the Bed there was a Heap of Ashes, two Legs untouched, from the Foot to the Knee, with their Stockings on; between them was the Lady's head; whose Brains, Half of the Backpart of the Scull, and the whole Chin, were burnt to Ashes; amongst which were found three Fingers blacken'd. All the rest was Ashes, which had this particular Quality, that they left in the Hand, when taken up, a greasy and stinking Moisture (from Wikipedia).

There was a lot of grease and soot in the room, but otherwise not much else was left of poor Countess Bandi, except for her lower legs, part of her skull, and three fingers. It was as if her body had been consumed quickly and suddenly by incredibly high heat. Oddly, the furniture and bed linens had not been damaged by the fire, although they were covered in grease and soot. The fire had cremated Countess Bandi but not touched anything else. 

Because it had only burned the countess, and because its source was never determined, Rolli hypothesized the fire had started inside Countess Bandi. He believed she had been consumed by a fire within her own body, a process he called "spontaneous human combustion." 

Of course, she probably caught fire from either the oil lamp or the candles in the room, but the idea of spontaneous human combustion was more exciting, and the concept quickly spread through the academic world and the general public. As more cases were 'discovered,' certain common traits were seen among the victims. They tended to be female, were often alcoholics, and were also often overweight. It seemed like the alcohol inside of them was spontaneously igniting and then burning the fat inside their bodies like a grisly, greasy, giant candle.

Image from The Irish Sun.

NONE OF THIS IS TRUE. Researchers who've reviewed cases of alleged spontaneous human combustion have always found possible outside sources of ignition, like candles, oil lamps, cigarettes, or space heaters. There is no such thing as spontaneous human combustion. The concept persisted, though, because it's fun (and scary) to think about someone suddenly bursting into flames, and because it also gave people an opportunity to pass moral judgment on their neighbors for being alcoholic and overweight, even after death.  

This blog is about New England folklore, so what does any of this have to with New England? Well, I became intrigued with the idea of spontaneous combustion last year while I was preparing to speak at an event in Ipswich, Massachusetts. Joseph Felt's 1834 book History of Ipswich, Essex, and Hamilton has a chapter titled  "Remarkable Events," which includes a subsection called "Individuals Drowned and Killed." Among those individuals was Betsy Telock, who died at the age of 49 in a mysterious fire:

1814,  Jan.  5th.  Betsey  Telock,  M.  49,  is  burnt  to  death. 

It  has  been  commonly  reported,  that  she  came  to  her  end  by spontaneous  combustion  from  the  inordinate  use  of  ardent spirits.  But  it  is  the  opinion  of  the  gentleman,  who  first  discovered her  body,  soon  after  the  flames  in  her  room  were extinguished,  that  she  caught  her  bed-clothes  on  fire  with  a candle, and  thus  lost  her  life. 

This account, even though brief, encapsulates the entire concept of spontaneous human combustion. Betsey's neighbors seemed to think that she burst into flames because she drank too much ("inordinate use of ardent spirits"), but she probably caught on fire because she got too close to a candle. Even in 1814 people were skeptical about the idea of spontaneous combustion, and kudos to Joseph Felt for being skeptical, too.

I hope you stay cool this summer and get to spend it reading trashy paperbacks in front of a fan. 

He Wanted Dunkins But Saw Bigfoot Instead

People from Massachusetts are usually pretty reserved, but we’re oddly passionate about Dunkin’ Donuts. The company started in Quincy in 1950, and even though it’s now a global behemoth we still think of it as a local chain. It’s hard not to since there are so many stores in the state. There are approximately 1,050 Dunkin’ locations in Massachusetts – that’s roughly one store for every 6,500 residents. 

I don’t know how many Bigfoots live in Massachusetts, so unfortunately I cannot calculate the ratio of Dunkin’ stores to Bigfoots in our state. But because there are so many Dunkins here, I had a hunch at least one Bigfoot encounter would involve a Dunkin’ Donuts. It just seemed inevitable. A quick search of the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization (BFRO) website confirmed that my suspicion was correct – there was a Bigfoot sighting in Massachusetts that involved a Dunkin’. 

I suspect there are more, but here are the details from the BFRO about the one confirmed case. On a hot July day in 1996, a 10-year-old boy in Rowley was feeling bored. As he tried to think of something fun to do, he remembered that a neighbor had recently told him about a path through the woods that led to a nearby Dunkin’ Donuts. He perked up at the thought, and decided to find the path. Was he planning to buy a donut, some munchkins, or a bagel with cream cheese (which had just been added to the menu that year)? Or perhaps he was going to try an “adult beverage” (i.e. an iced coffee)?

Was Bigfoot seen behind this Dunkin' Donuts in Rowley, MA?
Photo by CD Rasmussen, posted on Google

Sadly, the BFRO report doesn’t specify what he wanted to buy, but it does tell us that he convinced a friend to join him on his adventure. The store was less than a mile away so the boy and his friend thought it was going to be an easy trip, but after walking for a while through the woods they got lost. They could have easily turned back, but they did not. Instead, they showed true Massachusetts grit and forged ahead through the undergrowth, determined to reach Dunkin’ Donuts. 

Suddenly, they heard the sound of large animals moving nearby. Turning towards the noise, the boy and his friend were amazed see three humanoid figures running along a nearby hilltop. The creatures were not wearing any clothes and were covered in tan fur. Years later, the boy (now a man) told a BFRO investigator that the figures were around six-feet tall and had rugged but not ‘jacked’ (i.e. overly muscular) builds. He was unable to make out their faces because they were too far away.

Photo by Mike Mozart from Wikipedia. 

The boy and his friend stood paralyzed with fear, but after the creatures vanished among the trees they ran back to the friend’s house and told his mother what they had seen. I assume she was surprised, but she may not have been. The BFRO investigator notes that several other people have also reported seeing Bigfoot in that same area near the Dunkin’ on the Newburyport Turnpike, so maybe she already knew about the creatures in the woods behind her house.  

The report leaves one important question unanswered – where were the three hairy humanoids running to? The boy didn’t say which direction they were headed, but if they were Massachusetts Bigfoot, maybe they were also going to the Dunkin’ Donuts themselves? It’s just a suspicion on my part.

The Devil's Den in Hemlock Gorge

There are lots of places in New England named after the Devil. A few years ago, I published some lists on this blog. I'm not going to repost the full list today, but I have included a list of the Bay State's devilish places at the end of this post. 

I've been to several of these places, like the Devil's Footprint in Ipswich, the Devil's Den in Ashland, and another Devil's Den in Newbury. Amazingly, though, I've never been to the Devil's Den in Hemlock Gorge, which is in Needham right on the Newton border. I've lived in the Greater Boston area for more than 30 years, but somehow never visited the devilish place closest to me.

Last weekend we set out to rectify that. Hemlock Gorge is easily accessible by the MBTA Green Line, so Tony and I filled our water bottles, hopped on the T, and were soon at the Hemlock Gorge Reservation. I have to say that this park is worth visiting even if you aren't interested in vaguely Satanic caves. It's situated right on the Charles River and has some nice walking trails, but it also has the enormous Echo Bridge, which was built in 1877 to contain an aqueduct. The bridge is only open to pedestrians and has amazing views from its top. 

We entered the reservation from the northern side. The first thing we passed was this very dramatic spillway, where water from the Charles River flows under Route 9. I'm glad I'm not a fish or a small duck because I would definitely go over those falls to my doom.

Near the spillway was this old stone barn. Since I'm a horror-nerd, at first it reminded me of the Whateley house in H.P. Lovecraft's "The Dunwich Horror," whose windows and doors have been sealed up to contain an amorphous, ever-growing, ravenous monstrosity. A closer look revealed there was indeed an unsealed door and also some open windows, and a sign indicated that the building is used for some type of scientific purpose. 

Sadly, this probably means there isn't a monster inside. I guess that's good news for the neighbors, but the barn has always been a source speculation. For example, when the barn was built in 1839 some locals thought it was going to be used to raise silkworms. That never worked out, even though silkworms are preferable to monsters.

The Devil's Den was just a short walk from the barn. I knew it was a cave of some kind, but I had modest expectations because most caves in Massachusetts are pretty small. That was not the case! It's actually large enough to stand up in, and is located on a steep embankment overlooking a pond. There's also a small, little cave right next to it which is too small to hold a human.

A lot of Massachusetts caves are formed by boulders that were piled on top of each other by the glaciers. That type of cave is called a tallus cave, but the Devil's Den is quite different. It's carved out of solid puddingstone, not formed by assorted boulders. I don't know what geological forces did this, and I'm assuming it was a combination of water and wind. 

Like a lot of weird places we've visited, there was some graffiti in the Devil's Den. Although I'm not a fan of graffiti, I can understand why teenagers would want to leave their mark in someplace named after the Devil. Many of the places we visit are just slightly off the beaten path and are good locations for teens who want to hide their illicit behavior from their parents. At least there wasn't a lot of trash or broken glass in the cave, which was nice. 

This excellent page about Hemlock Gorge says that that local Native Americans may have used the cave to dry fish, but I couldn't find any information about why it's called the Devil's Den. King's Handbook of Newton (1879) only says the following: 

Just across, on the Needham Shore, is the old rocky grotto known as the Devil's Den. This is, of course, to be expected; for poor must be the New-England town that has not its bit of a cavern, consecrated to his Plutonian Majesty. 

As that quote sarcastically notes, you really can find caves or rock formations named after the Devil in many places. But why? I've seen a few theories trying to explain this. One claims that many of these places were associated with Native Americans, and that racist settlers gave them them devilish names because they thought the Native Americans were evil. That could explain the Devil's Den in Hemlock Gorge.

Sometimes there are also legends about particular devilish places that explain how they got their name. The legends might claim a particular cave earned its sinister name because it was used by smugglers or bandits, or that a particular rock formation was literally formed by the action of the Devil (like the Devil's footprints in Ipswich and Norton). Underlying all these legends and place names are old Puritan ideas about good and evil, where things outside the norm (like strange rock formations) were considered suspicious and assigned to the Devil. 

Interestingly, Needham has two Devil's Dens - the one we visited in Hemlock Gorge, and another one in the Town Forest. I think the one in Hemlock Gorge is larger and easier to access, but I'm jealous that Needham has two Devil's Dens. I can imagine it might cause confusion, though, if you're invited to the Devil's Den for nefarious deeds (or just a hike) but the location is not specified. 

*******

Places in Massachusetts named after the Devil

Devil's Back, Hull 

Devil's Basin, Newbury

Devil's Bridge, Gay Head 

Devil's Brook, Sharon

Devil's Brook, Stoughton 

Devils Cavern, Amherst (see also Devil's Garden)

Devil's Coffin, Sutton 

Devil's Corncrib, Sutton 

Devil's Den, Andover (now often called Den Rock)

Devil's Den, Aquinnah 

Devil's Den, Arlington (now Menotomy Rocks Park)

Devil's Den, Ashland

Devil's Den, Goshen 

Devil's Den, Hemlock Gorge, Needham and Newton

Devil's Den, Needham

Devil's Den, Newbury

Devil's Den, Oxford 

Devil's Den, Rockport

Devil's Den, Weston

Devil's Dishfull Pond, Peabody 

Devil's Foot Island, Woods Hole

Devil's Football, Hadley  

Devil's Footprint, Ipswich 

Devil's Footprint, Norton

Devil's Garden, Amherst (see also Devil's Cavern)

Devil's Garden, Lynnfield 

Devil's Hollow, Marshfield 

Devil's Hopyard, Shelburne Falls 

Devil's Kitchen, Lynnfield

Devil's Landslide, Wellesley

Devil's Lane, Warren 

Devil's Oven, Sherborn 

Devil's Oven, Westwood

Devil's Peak, Warren

Devil Pond, Westport (now called Devol Pond because it is more family friendly)

Devil's Pond, Rehoboth (sometimes called Sabin Pond)

Devil's Pool, Pelham 

Devil's Pulpit, Great Barrington

Devil's Pulpit, Housatonic 

Devil's Pulpit, Leominster 

Devil's Pulpit, Nahant

Devil's Pulpit, Newbury (historic, may no longer exist)

Devil's Rock, Rochester

Devil's Rock, Sharon

Devil's Rock, Swansea

The Beast of Barrington: the Bay State's First Bigfoot?

Recently, I've seen a few posts claiming that something called the "Beast of Barrington" was the first Bigfoot ever seen in Massachusetts. This idea has even started to find its way into a few books, like John O'Connor's The Secret History of Bigfoot: Field Notes on a North American Monster (2024). 

According to some online sources, the Beast was captured in the western Massachusetts town of Great Barrington in 1765, placed into a cage, and shown to an audience in Cambridge. Maybe the people who captured the creature wanted the professors at Harvard to see it? It's not clear.

What did the Beast look like? Well, according (again) to online sources, it was a bearlike humanoid with a head like a gorilla. That sounds pretty scary to me, and very memorable. You'd think a creature that like would be much better known! The description is also a little strange, because Europeans and Americans didn't really use the word gorilla until the 1840s... 

A 15th century engraving by Martin Shongauer

You can see why I found the story interesting, and also why I wanted to find the original source. My friend David Goudsward helped me find it: the July 4, 1765 edition of The Massachusetts Gazette and Boston News-Letter. 

The Beast in described in an article titled “A Description of an Uncommon Animal Found at or near Great-Barrington.” The author writes that the Beast was being displayed in a cage in Cambridge, where “all whose curiosity lead them, may have a sight of this uncommon creature.” It was supposedly captured by armed men in Great Barrington, where it had allegedly broken into houses in search of food. Strangely for an animal, the creature also had stolen silver, linens, and other “white or glittering” objects, which it seized with its “obscene paws.” I like the phrase "obscene paws." It's very creepy!

Stealing silverware and linens sounds like something a person would do, not an animal, and the article goes on to describe what sounds like a person wearing a costume. “This animal has a power of metamorphosing itself into various forms, such as blackness of face, much resembling that of an artificial mask, also upon a near view, it has been observed to be vested with a kind of robe, having the appearance of the hide of some huge bear. This vestment seemed to be the production of art, rather than nature.” 

I'm going to pull out some key words: "artificial mask," "robe," and "production of art, rather than nature." The article's author is using sarcasm and humor, but he's clearly describing someone wearing a costume. The Beast of Barrington wasn't a Bigfoot or a mysterious animal, it was just someone dressed as a monster or wild man, and exhibited to make money from spectators. 

 Painting of a wild man by Albrecht Durer

To make the point even clearer, the same article in The Massachusetts Gazette describes another fake wild man who appeared in Boston around the same time. This one came from Georgia and seemed to have had a criminal record, because after only “two public exhibitions, he was discovered by several that had seen the effects of his voracious appetite in other parts… Whereupon yesterday morning early he thought proper to remove to some place where he was less known, and set out for Providence, with his companion, a Black lady, who attended him from Georgia.” 

Again, although the author is being sarcastic, he's clearly writing about a human who's pretending to be a monster. It's someone performing for an audience - preferably an unwitting one. 

Although The Beast of Barrington isn't the Bay State's first Bigfoot sighting, it is an early account of a fake wild man, which is just as interesting, because there's a long history of fake wild men in Massachusetts. For example, on April 1, 1839, The Boston Times published an article claiming that a wild man captured in Mississippi was going to be exhibited in Boston. The hairy wild man supposedly was over eight-feet-tall with a powerfully-built frame, clawed doglike legs, and hair like a horse's mane.  

Thousands of people waited in line on April 1 to see this terrifying creature, but when they entered the room where he was held they saw only a mannequin with a sign reading "April Fool." Most audience members took the hoax in stride, but a small group of angry young men stormed the newspaper's offices and yelled at the editor. 

In the summer of 1861, concerned citizens reported a wild man roaming through the woods between North Adams, Massachusetts and Stamford, Vermont. He was heard shrieking at night, and people who saw him said he was terrifingly ugly. In fact, an armed posse of Vermont men tried to capture him, but the wild man “so frightened his pursuers by his hideous appearance that they could not shoot straight and he escaped harm” (Bangor, Maine, Daily Whig and Courier, August 19, 1861, quoted in Arment, The Historical Bigfoot). 

When the creature was finally captured, hundreds of curious people lined up to see the monster that had filled them with terror. They saw a strange, almost ape-like being with vacant, glassy eyes and an extremely long beard. Was it a man, or an animal?

In reality, it was just a Williams College student “who assumed the gorilla guise in a frolic which might have cost him his life” at the end of a hunting rifle. The whole thing had been a prank.

The Wild Men of Borneo (Syracuse University Library)

Wild men were also big attractions in sideshows and circuses. The famous showman P.T. Barnum showcased a variety of fake wild men in his circuses and museums, including the What-is-it (played by a series of performers wearing furry costumes) and the Wild Men of Borneo, who were two very short but very strong brothers from the Midwest. The Wild Men of Borneo lived in Somerville, Massachusetts for a while, and spent the final years of their lives in Waltham, with one passing away in 1905 and the other in 1912. 

Fake wild men continued to appear in Massachusetts during the 20th and 21st centuries, although now they're more likely to be called fake Bigfoots. For example, in 1976, an Agawam teenager created a sensation when he put on giant plywood feet and created mysterious tracks in the snow. And during the Snowmageddon winter of 2015, a Somerville man donned a Yeti costume and gained fame as the Boston Yeti. The Boston Yeti returned to the spotlight again this year in January, lured by the heavy snow. 

Hoaxes aren't as exciting as a real wild man or Bigfoot, but they're still interesting. They illustrate what people think - or hope - is lurking out there in the dark woods. Clearly, people think a large, hairy humanoid might be hiding somewhere in Massachusetts. The Beast of Barrington wasn't real, and neither was the Boston Yeti, but maybe someday a real Bigfoot will be captured and fulfill our wild-man dreams.  

The Spirit of Paw Wah Pond

Paw Wah Pond is an eight-acre saltwater pond located in Orleans on Cape Cod. It’s not an ordinary pond – a local legend says it is watched over by a spirit that lives in its depths. 

Even the town historical society used to acknowledge this legend. Near the pond once stood a historical marker upon which was written: “Pau Wah Pond, named for Pau Wah, Chief of the Potonamequoits who drowned herein after Chief Quanset refused marriage to his daughter Wild Dove. Fable says - Cast a pinch of tobacco in the pond and Pau Wah gives you good fishing.” Unfortunately, the marker was destroyed in a storm and was never replaced. 

Photo by Richard Burlton, courtesy of Unsplash.

The name "Paw Wah" can be spelled several different ways, and there are a couple variations of the legend as well. The writer Elizabeth Reynard included one in her book The Narrow Land: Folk Chronicles of Old Cape Cod (1934). According to Reynard, many centuries ago a local Indian chieftain named Pau Wah fell in love with Wild Dove, the daughter of Quansett, who was chief of another local tribe. One cold winter day Pau Wah went to Quansett with offerings of furs, wampum shells, and other valuables and asked to marry Wild Dove. 

Quansett looked at the offerings. He looked at Pau Wah. Then he refused the offer, saying his daughter was worth more than anything Pau Wah could ever give him. Pau Wah stormed off, angry and humiliated. 

Days later he returned to Quansett’s village, this time with a band of warriors, intent on stealing Wild Dove by force. Pau Wah and his warriors fought fiercely, but they were defeated by Quansett and the men in his tribe. 

Pau Wah fled alone into the snowy woods, accompanied only by his faithful dog. He had been humiliated in battle and knew that he was now a pariah. No one would come to help him. He ran for hours, until he came at last to an isolated frozen pond. Here, he thought, he would be safe from his enemies.

Pau Wah built a wigwam on the frozen pond, and then cut a hole in the ice to fish. Unfortunately, in his duress he forgot one crucial thing. He neglected to give an offering to Niba-nahbeezik, the spirit who controls lakes, rivers, and ponds, as one should always do. Niba-nahbeezik was offended by Pau Wah’s oversight, and vengefully made the ice under his wigwam collapse. Pau Wah, his wigwam, and his dog all sank instantly to the bottom of the cold, icy pond. 

Pau Wah sank too quickly to realize what happened – and apparently too quickly to die. He and his dog are supposedly still alive, and they live in their wigwam at the bottom of the pond. Pau Wah spends his days controlling the pond’s fish, and wishing he had some tobacco to smoke. Therefore, if anyone goes fishing at Paw Wah pond, they should throw some tobacco into it as a gift and say “Pau Wah, Pau Wah, Pau Wah, give me fish and I give you tobacco.”

The name Pau Wah (or Paw Wah) is probably a variant of the Algonquian word powwow, which means shaman or sorcerer. (Powwow is also used these days to refer to a Native American gathering with ceremonial dances.) If Pau Wah was actually a powwow, his magical prowess might explain why he is still alive under the pond. It might also explain why Niba-nahbeezik was so offended. As a shaman, Pau Wah should have known not to forget an offering. It might have seemed like a deliberate snub to the spirit. 

A local historian named W. Sears Nickerson offered up a slightly different version of the legend. According to Nickerson, Pau Wah was actually a powwow named Pompmo, who was the son of Pekswat, a well-known chieftain. Pompmo never tried to abduct Wild Dove and did not flee into the woods. Instead, he successfully wooed and married an unnamed woman, had children, and lived to an old age. 

Pompmo met his death the same way, though. He and wife lived on the shores of a saltwater pond. One cold winter, Pompmo and his wife moved their wigwam onto its frozen surface so they could fish through the ice. According to Nickerson: 

“…Cape Cod salt water ice has a reputation for being treacherous, and one stormy night with a sweeping, high tide accompanied by a warm rain, a regular January thaw set in and caught him napping. When morning broke, every vestige of ice was gone from the pond, and old Pompmo, his wigwam, and his wife were nevermore to be seen in this life” (Delores Bird Carpenter, Early Encounters: Native Americans and Europeans in New England. From the Papers of W. Sears Nickerson, 1994).

Pompmo’s spirit became restless and bored in the afterlife, so he came back to the pond where he lived so much of his life. If you want to catch any fish in his pond, you should toss some tobacco into the water and say, “Paw Waw, Paw Waw, I give you tobacco. You give me some fish?”

Are either of these stories true? Is it even an authentic Native American legend, or was it made up by white folks? There are a lot of fake Native American legends out there, unfortunately, and this could be one of them. Still, I do like the story, particularly as we've had a lot of cold weather recently. 

I’m not sure if the legend is true, but if you go fishing at Paw Wah pond you may want to bring some tobacco, just in case. Don’t throw in a cigarette or cigar, which might kill the fish. Just a tiny pinch of plain, organic, untreated tobacco will do. Maybe Pau Wah, or Pompmo, or even Niba-nahbeezik himself will accept your offering and send you some fish.

*********

A special thank-you for my friend David Goudsward for sharing the Nickerson information with me!

Does A Witch's Ghost Haunt This Cemetery?

I love visiting cemeteries, as long-time readers of this blog know. They're beautiful, peaceful, and relaxing spaces filled with sculpture and art. As an added bonus many of them have strange legends attached to them. Recently, Tony and I visited Lowell Cemetery in Lowell, Massachusetts. It's a gorgeous cemetery, and there's a weird legend attached to it. And the weird legend is connected to Halloween!

Lowell Cemetery opened in 1841 as a private, non-sectarian cemetery. Its layout and design was inspired by Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, which was the first "garden cemetery" in the United States. 

Before Mount Auburn, cemeteries were primarily functional. They were places to bury and memorialize the dead, but they weren't designed with aesthetics in mind. Old cemeteries are basically just rows of graves; newer garden cemeteries usually have beautiful plantings, gently curving paths, and landscape features like chapels, ponds, and fountains. 

Lowell Cemetery is definitely a garden cemetery. According to the cemetery's website, Lowell did not have any public parks in 1841, so the cemetery filled that role for many years. People would come to stroll, watch birds, and absorb the sylvan atmosphere. It still fills that role, even today. There were definitely a few families strolling around when Tony and I visited. 

"That's all great, but tell me about the spooky stuff," I can hear you say. Well, here it is. According to a local legend, a witch is buried in the cemetery, and she comes alive every year around Halloween. 

The witch is supposedly buried under this monument:

It's called the Clara Bonny monument, and here are some facts about Clara Bonney. She was born on June 19, 1855 to a prominent local judge. She married Charle Sumner Lilley, a lawyer and protege of her father. She died on July 19, 1894, possibly from sepsis caused by the birth of her daughter. 

Clara's family was extremely distraught by her death, so they commissioned a spectacular monument for her. It included a bronze sculpture titled "New Life" by Frank Elwell, the head of the sculpture department at the Metropolitan Museum. Her mother, father, and husband would all eventually be buried there as well.

The sculpture is very dramatic and quite unusual, because the breasts of the woman depicted are almost exposed. It's a really low-cut dress, particularly for a cemetery. Strange-looking monuments often have legends attached to them, and that's the case here. 

I told you the facts about Clara Bonney, but a local legend says Clara Bonney was executed for witchcraft. Every year in October, the statue's dress drops lower and lower each day, until on Halloween night her breasts are exposed. And then... 

Well, I'm not really sure what happens. One online source said that after her breasts are exposed, Witch Bonney's ghost stalks the streets of Lowell, wreaking vengeance on the descendants of the people who executed her. Other sources say her spirit is free to wander through the cemetery on Halloween night, but leave out the vengeance part. In general, the focus is on the dress creeping lower and Witch Bonney's spirit emerging from the grave. What the ghost does once it's free is less important. 

There's a large stone lion near Clara Bonney's monument, and according to some people the lion guard's Clara's grave. Does the lion keep the living safe from her, or her safe from the living? I'm not sure, but the lion is the gravestone for James Ayer, a 19th century medicine manufacturer. 

No one has been executed for witchcraft in Massachusetts since 1692, so it should be obvious that Clara Bonny wasn't really executed as a witch. This is one of many spurious witch legends in Massachusetts, but I think that's okay. Stories like this help people remember the 17th century witchcraft trials, and help them feel connected to their home town. I don't think there's anything wrong with a witchy legend, particularly at Halloween, as long as people don't take it too seriously.

Speaking of witchy things, visitors to Clara Bonney's grave often leave little offerings for her, like coins, rocks, or flowers. I forgot to bring a coin, so I just poured out some water on the ground. Hopefully it was acceptable. 

I didn't notice anything strange or creepy at Lowell Cemetery, until just as we were about to leave. As I took one last photo of Clara Bonney's grave, my iPhone's camera malfunctioned. The photo showed nothing but a gray light (see above). Maybe it was just because my phone is old, or maybe it was something more? This has only happened to me a few times before, usually at places with a reputation for being haunted...

Happy Halloween!

Book Review: Wicked Strange by Jeff Belanger

Is New England one the weirdest parts of the United States? With all the strange stories and legends we have, sometimes it seems that way,  

It's hard to measure weirdness, but New England is certainly one of the oldest parts of the country. The first English colonists arrived in the early 1600s, bringing folklore about witches, ghosts, and the Devil with them. To put that in perspective, consider this: some of those early Pilgrims and Puritans would have once been Queen Elizabeth's subjects, and could have seen the first performances of Shakespeare's plays. Not that the Puritans approved of theater, but maybe a few of them snuck in a matinee or two...

Those stories about ghosts, witches and the Devil lingered here long after the Puritan church disappeared. They're still remembered in place names, old legends, and even urban folklore. Other weird stories arose over time as well. Some incorporated elements from the local Algonquin cultures, others came from the mass media or more recent immigrant groups. 

Today, four-hundred years after the Pilgrims set foot on Cape Cod, New England is just chock-full of weird legends and folklore. It's not surprising that Poe, Lovecraft, and King, the three greatest American horror writers, were all born here. 

There are more stories and legends here than can fit into one book, and authors have been collecting them for years. Many local town histories from the 19th century included chapters about ghosts and witches, which were often described as "something our ancestors believed in, but we don't now." Some broader collections of New England folklore appeared then as well. For example, in 1884, Charles Godfrey Leland wrote Algonquin Legends of New England, while Charles Skinner included dozens of New England legends in Myths and Legends of Our Own Land (1896). 

Those authors may have garbled some of the details, but 20th century folklorists like Richard Dorson tried to do better in books like Jonathan Draws the Longbow (1946). Later authors, like Vermont's Joseph Citro, followed in this same vein while keeping their books entertaining. After all, what's the point of telling a ghost story if it's not spooky?

Happily, a new collection of New England legends has just come out. It's called Wicked Strange: Your Guide to Ghosts, Monsters, Oddities and Urban Legends from New England. The publisher sent me a free review copy, and I'm glad they did, because it's a great book. 

The author is Jeff Belanger, who is well-known in the paranormal scene. He's written other books, like Weird Massachusetts and The Fright Before Christmas, and has worked on TV shows like Ghost Adventures and Paranormal Challenge, and co-hosts The New England Legends podcast. In other words, he knows his stuff! The book has beautiful photos by Frank Grace, which add to the weirdness. 

Here are three reasons I like this book:

It Covers All Six States: Wicked Strange includes over 100 short chapters on different topics, evenly divided among the six New England states. Little Rhode Island gets as much coverage as Maine, and the division by state lets you find stories closest to you, which is useful. This past weekend, Tony and I visited a nearby haunted site after reading about it in Wicked Strange. 

Topical Variety: There are some different ways to write about local legends. You can focus on one topic, like I did with Witches and Warlocks of Massachusetts, or you can write about a variety of topics. That's the approach that Jeff Belanger takes in Wicked Strange. He covers some of the classic topics, like America's Stonehenge in New Hampshire, Montpelier's Black Agnes, and Boston's Great Molasses Flood, but also less well-known ones like the Woonsocket werewolf, the Devil's Baked Beans in Lyndeborough, New Hampshire, or the Hoodoo Hearse of Holden, Maine. The book covers haunted locations, cryptids, weird crimes, and a lot of uncategorizable weird happenings.

Beautiful Photography: Frank Grace's photos are beautiful and unsettling. They make the subjects look as strange as the stories that are told about them. The press release for the book says, "Frank has been photographing weird and wonderful New England for the last thirteen years." Thirteen is sometimes considered unlucky, but that's not the case here!

I'm glad to add Wicked Strange to my library, and I think you'll enjoy it, too. 

Books Bound in Human Skin, and Their New England Connections

The other day, I went down an Internet rabbit hole reading about books bound in human skin. You know, just your average light summer reading. I usually associate human-skin-covered books with horror movies and novels, but there are some real ones out there in the world. 

Interestingly, quite a few of these books are connected to New England, even though there aren't that many of them out there in the world. Megan Rosenbloom, a UCLA librarian, is an expert on "anthropodermic bibliopegy," which is Latin for "binding books in human skin." In a New York Times interview last year, she estimated there are only 51 books on Earth allegedly bound in human skin. She and some colleagues have verified that 18 of them are authentic. Fourteen are fake and actually bound in animal leather. The remaining 19 books still need to be tested. (New York Times, April 19, 2024, "Books Bound in Human Skin: An Ethical Quandary at the Library")

A book once believed to be bound in human skin. From the Wellcome Collection. 

A few of the 51 books are connected to people from New England. One such book is The Highwayman, a confessional autobiography by convicted criminal James Allen. The full title of the book is quite long: Narrative of the Life of James Allen, alias Jonas Pierce, alias James H. York, alias Burley Grove, the Highwayman, Being His Death-bed Confession to the Warden of the Massachusetts State Prison. I love those old-fashioned, don't you?

Allen died from tuberculosis in a Charlestown, Massachusetts prison in 1837. He was only 27, but had lived a life full of criminal exploits, which he dictated to the warden as he lay dying. Per Allen's instructions, after his death the book he dictated was bound in Allen's skin and given to James Fenno, the one man who had fought back when Allen tried to rob him. The Highwayman remained in Fenno's family for many years until it was donated to the Boston Athenaeum, where it remains today. I saw the book once when it was on display. It's small, gray, and unassuming. You'd never guess it was covered in human skin. 

The Highwayman. Image from Atlas Obscura. 

Two libraries in Cincinnati, Ohio also have copies of a book bound in human skin. The book is Poems of Various Subjects, Religious and Moral by Boston poet Phyllis Wheatley. Wheatley is famous for being the first published Black poet in North America; she died from pneumonia in 1784 at the age of 31. Poems of Various Subjects was quite popular when it was published in London in 1773, but it's unclear why these two copies were covered in skin and who it came from. 

Image from the Preservation Lab Blog.

The Wellcome Collection, a museum and library in London, owns a small notebook with silver clasps supposedly bound in the skin of Crispus Attucks, the Indigenous/Black man killed by British soldiers in 1770 at the Boston Massacre. The book was created around 1780. A handwritten label on it reads: "The cover of this book is made of Tanned Skin from the Negro whose Execution caused the War of Independence." 

Reading about this book made me very uncomfortable. It's one thing for James Allen to bind The Highwayman in his own skin, but it's another thing entirely for someone, probably a white Englishman, to bind a book in the skin of an Indigenous/Black man killed in a political uprising. It reeks of oppression and exoticization. Happily, testing has shown that this book is not bound in Crispus Attucks's skin, or in any human skin at all. It's bound in leather from an animal, probably a horse, camel, or goat. In other words, it's a fake. 

Some scholars have pointed out that the skin of marginalized people was often used in anthropodermic bibliopegy. That's certainly the case with the copy of Des Destinees de L'Ame (Destinies of the Soul) owned by Harvard. The book, written in 1879 by Arsène Houssaye, and was covered in human skin by Ludovic Bouland, a French doctor, using the skin of a woman who died in a psychiatric hospital. A handwritten note by Bouland says "a book about the human soul deserved to have a human covering." Creepy.

In 2024, Harvard decided the skin on Des Destinees had not been given with consent; they removed it and placed it in storage. The university is still determining the best way to dispose of it. 

Havard is not the only university with a book like this. Brown has four anthropodermic books in its collection, including two copies of Dance of Death (featuring prints by Hans Holbein) and Vesalius's De Humani Corporis Fabrica Libri Septem (On the Fabric of the Human Body in Seven Books). Testing has proven the books are indeed bound in human skin, but Brown does not know whose it is. They have been taken out of circulation, but remain intact. 

The fourth book at Brown is a copy of Adolphe Belot's 1870 novel, Mademoiselle Giraud, My Wife, a steamy novel about a lesbian love affair. A letter from Samuel Loveman, dated November 10, 1936, accompanies the book. (Loveman was a bookseller and close friend of Rhode Island horror writer H.P. Lovecraft.) It's addressed to W. Easton Loutitt, the university's archivist at the time, and says that "[we] are assured by our consignee that this book is of unquestioned authenticity so far as the human skin binding is concerned." Once again, it's not clear who the skin came from. 

When I was younger, I was more enthusiastic for morbid curiosities like these anthropodermic books. I probably would have bought one if I could. As I've gotten older, my enthusiasm has waned a little bit. Yes, they're products of a different time when people held different ideas about the human body, but now that I'm almost 60 I find myself identifying more with the people whose skin was used to cover the books, and less with the people who did the binding.