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 Witch's Doughnuts: A Cape Cod Witch Story

It's a well-known fact that people in New England really like doughnuts, and our region is blessed with an abundance of doughnut stores. Maybe it's even an overabundance. Locals often joke about how many there, particularly Dunkin Donuts. There are in fact two Dunkin Donuts within a quarter mile of my house. Two! There's another one a half-mile away.

This is not something recent. Doughnuts have been popular here for centuries. As Keith Stavely and Kathleen Fitzgerald discuss in their 2015 book America's Founding Food, early New Englanders ate doughnuts at almost any meal. They were particularly popular served with cheese and bread and butter during the break on Sunday church services. There's nothing like some fried sugary dough to get you through the next hour-long Calvinist sermon.

Of course, good church-going folks weren't the only people who loved doughnuts. They were popular with more disreputable people like sailors (many ships had doughnut making equipment in their galleys) and even witches. 

That's right. Even witches liked doughnuts. And as the following Cape Cod legend demonstrates, witches became very unhappy when someone stole their doughnuts. 

Way back in 1780, a sailor was walking through the dunes of Truro to reach a ship whose crew he was joining. It was a long hard walk through the sand and his stomach was beginning to rumble with hunger. As he passed by a small rundown house he smelled the rich aroma of freshly-made doughnuts wafting from within.

Unable to resist the smell he knocked on the door. No one answered. The door was unlocked so he opened it and stepped inside. 

No one was home. Well, no one except a small black goat that sat by the fireplace. The sailor thought this was odd but he ignored the animal. His attention was captured by a tray of hot doughnuts cooling on the table. He couldn't resist. He grabbed the tray and ran out the door. 

As he hurried away through the dunes he ate one doughnut and then another. They were the best doughnuts he had ever eaten.

By the time he reached the ship he had eaten all of them. Sure, he felt a little guilty for stealing someone's doughnuts, but they were only doughnuts, right? As the ship sailed away from the Cape he thought he would never be caught. He thought he had gotten away with the perfect doughnut crime. 

He hadn't. That night as the sailor slept an old woman appeared to him. Angrily and without speaking a word she threw a horse's bridle over his head. The witch rode him up and down the Cape as he slept, digging her heels into his sides violently whenever he slowed his gait. In the morning his torso was covered in bruises shaped like a woman's shoe. 

She appeared to him again the next night, and the next. He tried to hide the witch's nightly visitations from the other crew members. He knew that sailors were superstitious and wouldn't want someone cursed by a witch onboard. They'd call him a "Jonah" and try to throw him into the sea. 

Unfortunately the witch's curse radiated out from him and everything he touched went wrong. After he was asked to pump the ship's drinking water it became brackish. When he was told to work in the ship's galley all the flour became moldy. He was exhausted, his body ached, and he was jinxed. 

The crew began to mutter about him, and the ship's captain pulled him aside. "Tell me the truth," the captain said. "Are you bewitched?" The sailor told the captain everything: how he had stolen the doughnuts, how he was being ridden every night, and how he was now cursed.  

When the sailor was done with his story the captain grabbed a musket and then pulled a silver button off his coat. He loaded the button into the musket and handed it to the sailor. 

"Use this tonight when she comes for you," the captain said. 

At midnight the crew was awakened by the sound of a single musket-shot. The next morning the sailor came up on the deck looking fresh and rested. The curse was lifted and the ship completed a successful voyage.

So there's the story. It sounds like a folktale to me, but some people claim it was true. The sailor eventually returned to Truro, and over a century later his grandson told the story to a reporter from The Boston Herald, where it appeared in the February 6, 1919 issue. The Harvard historian George Lyman Kittredge (author of 1929's Witchcraft in Old and New England) said he heard the same story from an old Truro native in the late 19th century. It is also included in Elizabeth Renard's book 1934 book The Narrow Land. 

The doughnut angle is unusual, but like so many folktales about witches it is mainly intended to educate the hearer about how to fight back against witchcraft. The point is not that the sailor stole doughnuts, but that he was bewitched and defeated the witch. It's an education in defensive magic (use a silver bullet!), not a morality tale. 

Still, I find the conclusion of this story troubling. Let's face it, the sailor committed a crime. I understand why the witch was so unhappy. I don't want anyone stealing my food, do you? Perhaps she should have gone to the local constable and pressed charges, but that might have raised some uncomfortable questions. ("Did you see the sailor steal your doughnuts ma'am?" "No, but my black goat familiar did...") Instead she took matters into her own hands. Perhaps the whole situation could have been defused if the sailor simply apologized or paid restitution. 

Also, like a lot of New England witch stories there is an uncomfortable gender-dynamic at play. The nighttime witch-riding feels like it has a sexual subtext, and is something that is always used by female witches against male victims. But is the sailor really a victim in this story, or a perpetrator who needs to be punished?

*****

Special thanks to Tony for the doughnut photo shoot!