Showing posts with label Tales from da Swamp. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tales from da Swamp. Show all posts

Monday, July 16, 2018

Swamp Legends - The Rougarou


Tales from da Swamp
Swamp Legends – The Rougarou










Rougarou
New Orleans Zoo exhibit.



The Rougarou, I just love saying it. I may name my next dog Rougarou, so I can run around the woods yelling for him. The beast known as the Rougarou a Cajun legend that dates to medieval France where it was known as Loup-Garou. French Catholics claimed you would turn into a loup-garou if you did not follow the rules of Lent for seven consecutive years. I am on year six. 


Cajun language, a mix of French and English and well-known for changing words to roll off the tongue easier, the name of the beast merged from loup-garou to Rougarou.





Legend tells us that if you survive an attack of the loup-garou, then you too will become one. Should you go out in search of the creature and your eyes meet his red glowing eyes, then you too, will become the loup-garou. Like the legendary vampire, the loup-garou can bite and drink the blood of its victim as well as devour his flesh. Once the curse is passed on, the previous victim is freed from the spell. If the creature becomes injured or killed, they will instantly become human again.






One legend from the late 1890’s tells of a wealthy gentleman from New Orleans who moved to the bayou and took a young woman named Madeline to be his bride. He had often heard stories of the rougarou from her family. One evening while he was visiting a local pub, he heard a young hunter and trapper bragging about his kills. In a drunken state, he challenged the young man to go out into the swamp and kill the rougarou, offering him a large sum of money for his catch.

The next day the young hunter left on his journey. When he returned late that evening, he told a story of being attacked by a large wolf-like creature. He fired his gun at the beast scaring it away, but not before taking his knife and cutting the off the creature’s left paw. He held out the bloody bag for the gentleman to see. He quickly opened up the bag and pulled out not a wolf’s paw but a slender hand of a young woman. The hunter stared in disbelief. The gentleman recognized the ring and hurried home to find his beloved Madeline with a shawl wrapped around her left arm. He demanded that she remove the shawl. When she did, he saw that there was nothing more than a mutilated stump at the end of her arm! Because she was injured, the spell had been broken.



Two years later, Madeline gave birth to a baby boy. The child was born with a small crescent shaped birthmark on his back. The midwife saw the mark and said, “He is bewitched!” The child had been born with the mark of the devil. “He’ll be fine, as long as you keep your eyes on him when there is a full moon.” Shortly after the boy was born, the couple hired a young woman named Michelle to help care for him. She was a rather strange girl, with funny shaped eyes, who always wore a cloak hiding her face. But she had shown up just as they need a nanny for the child and she seemed very mild natured. When Michelle saw the birthmark on the child’s back she told her mistress, “It is the mark of the rougarou. He will be one by his 16th birthday.” The young mother became frantic. She had thought that the evil curse that once gripped her had been lifted and now it seems as though she had passed it on to her little baby. She asked if there was anything she and her husband could do to save the child. Michelle told her to kill a white pigeon and smear its blood on the birthmark. Then they were to place the child on a soft blanket under full moon. She said that the moon would draw up the mark and the curse would be lifted. The next full moon they carried the child into the woods, armed with a shotgun, to wait for the full moon. As the moon rose a large wolf-like creature with red glowing eyes appeared. It stood snarling over the child. The parents ran toward the wolf screaming and firing the gun grazing the beast on the left side of its neck in an effort to scare it off, but it was too late. As it howled off into the woods, its jaws dripped with the blood of the infant child. Later, they found Michelle lying in the woods. Her neck had been blown open by a shotgun and she had bled to death. The spell had been broken. But the legend says he who breaks the spell and tells the tale before a year and a day has passed will become the rougarou. No doubt Madeline and her husband told no one, but what became of the young hunter that freed Madeline?



The New Orleans Zoo has a Rougarou exhibit and there’s an annual Rougarou Festival in Houma.

Rougarou Festival





Kalila Smith, "Werewolves" http://www.neworleansghosts.com/werewolves.html (accessed July 13, 2018).

Thursday, June 21, 2018

Tales from da Swamp Part 2 Mysterious Gator Attack


Tales from da Swamp


Part 2 Mysterious Gator Attack


A series of short stories and first-hand recollections of hair-raising moments from da Swamp.







Years ago, on a cold winter morning, me and my lab Buddy headed out to our duck hole in Sherburne WMA. It was a full moon and the visibility in the swamp was good that morning. This year was a dry year, with the water being low our honey hole was mostly mud. As I finished setting out my duck decoys I started making my way towards my hiding spot when I noticed the unmistakable ridges on the back of an alligator. The head was not visible at first just the plates on his back sticking up out the mud.

With my paddle I splashed water on him, the gator didn’t move. I banged a cypress stump right next to him, the gator didn’t move. I figured he was dead, why else would he be stuck in the mud.

The sun was coming up and I had to get ready for the fast flying wood ducks that would soon come in. I pushed my canoe past the gator and set up in the brush about 10 feet away. Soon after I shot the first duck of the day which Buddy quickly retrieved running right near the gator in the mud. It was a great day to duck hunt, the grey ducks came in flock after flock. A few quacks from the duck call and they circled in range of my 12 gauge. Buddy would have to run in the mud jump over the gator at the water’s edge to retrieve the ducks, he even stopped to smell him a few times.
After making the last retrieve of the day, I dragged the canoe out of the bushes and made my way through the sloppy swamp mud. With Buddy next to me with his nose down he sniffed and pushed on the gator, with lighting fast speed the gator rose up hissing and snapped at Buddy. With my shotgun pointing towards the gator I yelled at Buddy to get back.  Just as soon as I yelled the gator put his head back down in the mud and never moved again.
PHOTOGRAPH BY GEOFF WALSH

The next morning, we went back to the same spot and there was no sign of the gator until the sun came up. To the right of our honey hole was a willow tree coming out the water at an angle. Spread out a few feet above the water was the remains of the mysterious gator. Head still attached the body cavity was open and eaten out. Something dragged it across the mud, up the tree and ate most of it. Swamp cat? Maybe a Rougarou. My guess would be a large freshwater otter attacked the cold-blooded gator while he couldn’t move and had him for dinner.

Maybe it was the rougarou, or just another day in da Swamp.





Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Tales from da Swamp Part 1


Tales from da Swamp






A series of short stories and first-hand recollections of hair-raising moments from da Swamp.




Part 1 -  Just some sticks.


Just some sticks


For those of you that have hunted before I am sure you have walked in the woods at night, alone in the dark. Have you ever walked through the swamp, at 4 AM, the morning after watching Blair Witch Project? The only part I found scary was the ending until I woke up the next morning to go duck hunting in the Atchafalaya Basin.


Alone with my yellow lab Buddy, I made the walk down the ½ mile trail I had made many times before. This time was different, my head lamp seemed to be fading in and out, catching the shadows of the branches as I walked. The branches! Stick figures that haunted the characters from the film are now coming in and out of focus.

This can’t be I thought to myself, it’s just a movie. I push on. Feeling the hair raise on the back of my neck, the glare from my now fading light intensify my thoughts. Thoughts of those stick figures hanging from the branches of the cypress trees.  Never been more scared to walk through gator invested water than this night, so I had to do it.

Loaded my shotgun. Just in case.
 Old Buddy, he wasn’t scared he walked and sniffed around in the dark just like any other day. Turns out it was just another day in da Swamp.



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