"The Hodag" That Haunted Muskoka Homesteaders and Loggers

 

Original Depictions of "The Hodag" by Sarah Cole, Gravenhurst

Part 2: The following originally was posted prior to Halloween 2019

THE “HODAG”  - MUSKOKA HOMESTEADERS AND LOGGERS HAUNTED BY TREE-TOP BEASTS

THE HODAG KNOWN AS A MYTHIC BEAST BEYOND OUR DISTRICT

By Ted Currie

     “The wall of the church faces to the manse, but the churchyard is on a level with the top of the wall, that is to say, some eight to ten feet above the garden, and the tombstones are visible from the enclosure of the manse. The church, with its campanile (free standing bell tower) was near the edge, so that on Sundays we could see the cluster of people about the door. Under the retaining wall was a somewhat dark pathway, extending from the stable to the far end of the garden and called ‘The Witches’ Walk,’ from a game we used to play in it. At the stable end it took its rise under a Yew (tree), which is one of the glories of the village. Under the circuit of its wide, black branches, it was always dark and cool and there was a green scarf over all the trunk among which glistened the round bright drops of resin. This was sufficiently gloomy commencement for ‘The Witches’ Walk,’ but its chief horror was the retaining wall of the kirkyard itself, about which we were always hovering at even with the strange attraction of fear. This it was that supplied an Arcady with its gods; and in place of classic forms and the split hooves of satyrs, we were fully of homely Scottish superstitions of grues (dark and mysterious figures), and ghosts and goblins. Often after nightfall, have I looked long and eagerly from the manse windows to see the spunkier (will-o-the-wisp manifestations of strange mist), playing among the graves, and have been much chagrined at my failure; and this very name of spunky recalls to me the most important of our discoveries on the supernatural walk; Henrietta, Will and I, just about dusk, discovered a burning eye looking out from a hole in the retaining wall, in the corner where it joins the back of the stable.” Was it the eye of a bird looking out the opening? Or was it a hole all the way into a human’s grave, and from a coffin, the occupant sitting up to look at us on the outside. “The fact is, we would have given anything to have seen a ghost.”

     The above passage was written by the young Robert Louis Stevenson, author of “Treasure Island,” published in the biography written by Graham Balfour, in 1901; “The Life of Robert Louis Stevenson, Vol.

     There is little denying, that without the paranormal, supernatural, and all its delicious attachments from the so called “dark side,” and mysterious nether-world, there would have been untold literary disadvantage, weighed upon the world’s revered authors, who have so greatly benefitted over the centuries from such a wide array of such curiosities and hobgoblins, banshees, fairies, good and bad, witches, assorted and sundry demons, trolls, gnomes, vampires, Frankenstein monsters, and many other malevolent entities that have created such cultural pillars in old and dear superstitions; some of which have been written about by Stevenson. I could go on and on, but today’s conclusion of the three part Halloween series, is about one of our homegrown mythical creatures, of considerable acclaim, known to the pioneer community of our district, as “The Hodag.” We are thankful to have had the art contribution of Gravenhurst artist, Sarah Cole, who has given us our first full depiction of this creature of folklore; the only representation for our region specifically, although there were reportedly Hodags in areas of the northern United States at around the same period of the later 1800’s, each being associated with the fervor of the logging industry as it stripped away its habitat. Or so we guess. We are grateful for Sarah’s interesting profile of The Hodag, and we are certainly pleased to announce it as a first in regional history; the undisputed honor going to her.

 

     When the mass of emigrants arrived in Canada, settling in Upper Canada, (soon thereafter Canada West), being the present Province of Ontario, the mixed European, Scandinavian, Germanic, Dutch, Irish, Scottish, and British folklore along with religious beliefs, came with the eager but pessimistic settlers, their concerns heightened by the first panorama of the vast pine forests, swampland, waterways and rock. Many superstitions and local lore in their own native countries were transplanted into the Canadian wilds for obvious reasons. It’s possible then that “The Hodag,” the subject of this story, was one of the wee beasties that generated from old rural superstitions and fear of the unknown, and it was given credence by the wild, primal conditions in the harsh environs of Muskoka in the 1860’s through to the 1880’s.

     The folk tales and lore that have been, for time and time rooted, for example, in the logging industry, one of the harshest, most damning industries in the earliest years of habitation in Muskoka, did not solely acknowledge The Hodag, that cat-dragon like creature that was said to live in the tree tops of the tall pines, the subject of a logger’s careful scrutiny for what financial reward could be had by felling it for lumber. There were quite a few bandy legged creatures and ghosts that may be said haunted logging camps, and considering the large number of deaths associated with this most dangerous industry, there is no surprise it had many resident superstitions, like those situations of good and bad luck on sailing ships on the high seas. The Hodag was just one of the little gems of folk lore that was shared with other regions in North America, and other logging operations amidst the tall pines. The Hodag’s reputation even went further than this, by appearing in references about mythic creatures in English history.

      Realities emerging from beefy and strange fictions told in the north woods from the beginning? Even today when taking a stroll through the autumn woodlands around here, in South Muskoka, down through the misty moors, of the expansive bogland, swamps, uplands, valleys and down steep hillsides, would gently prevail upon the voyeur, a more occupied domain than what pleasant realities of sunlight and blue sky might initially suggest. That such a fine place as this couldn’t possibly harbor a creature that might jump upon our backs, and strangle the life out of us in only a few moments of conflict. Where is the evidence that such a creature of mythic proportion actually exists, and ambles along these same trails that are used throughout the year by children and adults alike, with nary an incident of injury or death as caused by something similar to a cat with a dragon’s body?

     The sounds. There is no wild howling, screaming, or even detectable scurrying of a large creature, mythic or otherwise, that would send us running for cover, or even looking upward into the tree-tops, where it is said The Hodag huddles closely to the trunk of the home tree, balancing on the thick branches at their base. But in the dead of night admittedly, there are sounds that even the nature-expert has to pause and reflect on whether it is the racket of an owl, a hawk, or the audible evidence of a conflict between animals losing out in the battle for survival with a predator.  At this time of writing, I am overlooking a breathtakingly beautiful scene in the geographical embrace of South Muskoka, enjoying the last bold rays of afternoon sun breaking through the now mostly bare hardwood branches, that front the open space in our neighborhood, known as The Bog. I don’t believe there is anything resembling a Hodag in these pleasantly appointed autumn woods, but then again, I am a stalwart supporter in the preservation of folklore and as The Hodag falls into this category, I won’t entirely rule out the possibility one might turn up at some time, when this voyeur dropped defenses even momentarily. I’ve been a watcher of the tree tops from childhood, when I first heard local old-timers talking about the existence of The Hodag, a rather ruthless creature that fed off human assets. Seeing as I didn’t fancy the idea of being eaten while out enjoying a walk through the woods, I did, out of habit, keep up keen observation of what was happening around me, and of course, above the pathways that wound through the various forest lands I used to haunt as a kid thrilled by adventure.

     As an initial introduction to “The Hodag,” as it relates specifically to the Muskoka District, we must consult the well known heritage classic, written by Frederick de la Fosse, otherwise known as Roger Vardon, his book being entitled “English Bloods,” and insightful glimpse back into the pioneer era of the region. He had been exposed to homestead life as a young student-emigrant, sent by his family to learn about life in rural Canada, in the 1870’s. He was situated at a fledgling homestead near the present Town of Huntsville. Mr. De la Fosse arrived in Canada and North Muskoka in 1879, and it was during the adventure by train, steamboat, horse drawn cart and on foot, that he heard references to the existence of “The Hodag,” a most fearsome adversary, that made a nasty habit of jumping from overhead branches onto unsuspecting traveller along the narrow pioneer trails. The folklore that accommodated and nurtured the story of The Hodag obviously then, existed well before 1879, especially being enshrined as part of logging lore as it was in at least one region in the northern United States.

     Consider that in the year 1893 it was reported that an actual Hodag had been found in the woods of Wisconsin by timber cruiser, Eugene Shepard, a land surveyor, and known prankster. According to published reports, attributed to claims by Mr. Shepard, the beast in question had the head of a frog, face of a grinning elephant, thick short legs, huge claws and the back of a dinosaur, with a long tail with a spear shaped finial. Shepherd even initiated a full hunt to capture at least one live Hodag, near the community of Rhinelander, Wisconsin, and in 1896 he claimed to have captured one, still alive, and even decided to put the creature on public display at the Oneida Country Fair where thousands came to visit the great beast, which had been, without any of the visitors noticing it, wired together by Mr. Shepard, so that he could move it at his discretion, with full believable manipulation of the joints. But when the fine folks at The Smithsonian Institute asked if they could inspect the captured Hodag, Shepard had to confess that it had all been a hoax on his part. As The Hodag was such an entrenched and curiously celebrated non-entity, but folklorish at the same time regardless of the hoax, it has long been an established civic symbol of the home community of Rhinelander. In 1928, as a sidebar to the handiwork of Mr. Shepard, a book by Shore Kearney was released in the United States entitled “The Hodag and Other Tales of the Logging Camp,” which you can access online to read it in full. In 2012, to bring you up to contemporary times, The Hodag was used as a villain in a cartoon, a “Scooby-Doo Mystery.” The episode was entitled “The Hodag of Horror,” and was also listed in the 2017 edition of “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,” by celebrated author, J.K. Rawling of Harry Potter acclaim

     In a more recent release of “English Bloods,” there is the suggestion included by the publisher, that what The Hodag most likely represented, in real life, was either a common forest Lynx or Bobcat, embellished by the lumber camp folklore spinners, looking to enhance the whole aura of lumbering in the north woods. Hodag references were also included in the 1916 promotional publication, “Paul Bunyan Stories, of the North American Loggers,” compiled by William B. Laughead, paid for by the Red River Lumber Company. Laughead had worked as a student researcher with K. Beatrice Stewart, who was investigating the “Woodsmen in the Mideast.” To the best of our knowledge, a genuine Hodag was never photographed or even illustrated based on what it is said to have looked like. Here then are some quotations about The Hodag as found in the text of “English Bloods,” first published by Roger Vardon (de la Fosse), released in 1930 in Canada, by the Graphic Press, of Ottawa.

     “Young man,’ he said (author’s pioneer guide on his trip north to Huntsville from Bracebridge), when he saw me engaged in constant skirmishes with mosquitoes, ‘You’ve come to one of the best countries in God’s world for a young gaffer like yourself to keep out of. Why, you complain about these here skitters! Sakes alive! They is only infants to what they grows to about the middle of June. And the deer flies grow as big as butterflies. Why, I’ve known one of them to kill a fresh blooded young fellow like yourself, dead by poisoning his system. But wait till you see the Gilliloo birds! Some folks make a living around here by training them to catch the mice in barns. They’re called Gilliloo birds because their cry goes ‘Gil-lil-oo’; like if they take a dislike to you and peck your leg. They will take a chunk clear out of you. Then there’s The Hodag. There’s lots of them around but they don’t attack you openly. They climb trees and watch for you and spring on yer back and choke you. They jump forty feet at a leap, they do, and the way they howl is fair devilish. You don’t need to be afraid of bears and wolves much. But he solemnly concluded that “you do need to keep your eyes skinned for them there Hodags’.”

     According to the author, “It may be as well to mention here that I never saw the old gentleman (guide) again, although I heard of him many times. He has been dead these many years but I hold in as a grateful remembrance as when we parted on the Stisted Road more than fifty years ago (1879). I venture to express pious hope that in the land to which he has gone, no ghosts of Gillilloo birds or Hodags dog his footsteps.” “Following the directions given me, I took the road which led to the Martin inhabitation (his destination to work on the owner’s homestead). Squirrels chattered at me from the branches and strange, prettily striped little creatures called chipmunks scampered across my path. The mosquitoes and black flies were awful. I thought I would never come to the end of the trail. The least noise in the woods made me wonder if a bear or Hodag was on my tracks, and I glanced fearfully at every overhanging tree to see if some beast of prey was lying in wait to descend on my shoulders. At one time every hair on my head started up and I perspired with horror when a screech owl suddenly gave vent to its diabolical cry about a foot above my head. My teeth chattered and my knees knocked together. Never in the whole course of my career have I been so thoroughly frightened to see what was coming upon me, fully expecting to have to grapple with a Hodag hiding behind a tree.”

     Vardon adds to his story, “My friend, Mr. Wardle, told me that they (bears) are not dangerous at all, and that the beasts to look out for are The Hodags. He says they are something dreadful. They climb trees and watch for you, and jump on your shoulders and strangle you. Harkins (a friend) was quite impressed. He said he had never heard of them Hodags but that he would look into his natural history, when we got home and read up about these.” Harkins asked ‘How do you spell it - HODAG OR HODAGUE,’ I should imagine it is a French word’. I told him that I hadn’t the faintest idea but remembering the old man’s loose use of the aspirate, I thought it possible it might have been “ODAG.”

     On the ever-haunted, and deliciously magical evening of this October’s Halloween, as a sign of respect for our folklore in these parts, I will look up on my nightly jaunt, to see once again, if on this annual celebration of myth and enchantment, whether at least one remaining Hodag might make its eerie howl from the thick tree tops of venerable old pines, that date well back in history, to a time when, well, it was quite possible there were strange critters lodging above; awaiting unsuspecting travellers to walk beneath, enabling their human feast once more.

     Is there truth lurking within the realm of folklore? You bet! Just listen for the cry of the Gilliloo Birds still very much in evidence in the same mist laden forests at this very haunting time of the rolling year.

     Happy Halloween to all of you folks, from the Currie family, lovers of all things folkish.