Back in the day, when the children were younger, we experienced our own "swamp critter". To this day, we are still not sure of just what we had tromping around in our Bayou and woods area. It all started with a crying..like that of a wee babe. My oldest son and I, worried about some lost tot, ventured as far into the mire as we dared..searching..searching for the crying infant. We did not find the source of the sounds and were forced to give up our quest as darkness fell upon us. All that night, we fretted about the infant as we could hear its cries. By morning, however, instead of being weaker, the cries were stronger..more robust. This gave us hope and we searched again..to no avail. By the end of the week, whatever was in the Bayou had become much stronger. It gave us the idea that this thing was maturing at a rapid rate..unlike anything we had ever known. In jest, we nicknamed it the "Bayou Creature". Soon, its cries became more howl-like and were definitely from some quite large animal. If you sat outside in the late evenings, it was not unusual to hear its footsteps as it sloshed through the mucky mudflats. It was on the hunt. Several unexplained incidents were attributed to this "Bayou Creature". One of the most vivid in memory was the break-in of the chicken house. This left us to think we had a visit of something unexplained. We were used to the periodic break-ins by the raccoons or possums but this was far different. When the chickens started squawking, we had run out fully expecting a coon. My oldest son, who was about thirteen at the time, was armed with his pellet gun. Once we neared the hen house, we knew that this was no coon! The smell was awful..unlike anything we had ever encountered before! It was not like that of a skunk...just rank...awful rank! Not sure at just what we were going to find, Mark (son) unleashed our dog, Annie. She was a very large, protective dog..a mix between a Great Dane and a German Shepherd. Annie charged after whatever was in the hen house and chased it down into the creekbed. Mark and I checked out the poor, terrified chickens and found that one was gravely injured. It was still alive but had been crushed beyond mend. That was when we noticed that this critter had used the door..not torn the wire! The doorlatch had been ripped from the door! No raccoon could ever do that! Soon afterward, Annie made her way back to us. She was trembling and refused to leave our sides as we took to cleaning up the mess left by this visitor. Sad to say, the poor hen had died from her injuries but I cannot imagine just what the other chickens had witnessed. Horrors..I am sure.
There were other times when we would smell the rank odor and hear the howls of our Bayou Creature but none were so devastating as the hen house raid. From that point on, our creature kept its distance. Mark (son) could actually mimic the call quite well and would occasionally let loose a howl across the Bayou. Several times, the Bayou Creature would return the call as if to let us know that it was still alive and well. Lately, however, it has been quiet. I tend to believe with all of the building of houses around the Bayou, our critter has sought out a more remote area. I have not heard the wails of our local banshee for several years now and it almost grieves me. I sort of miss the mystique...the allure of the unknown...the mythical essence of the Bayou. Somehow, the whiteout of the fog this morning brought a bit of that back to me. It shut out all of the "progress" occurring around me and let me for a short time feel as though I was once again in my bit of wilderness. Was our "Bayou Creature" real? Was it just overactive imaginations? I do not know for sure just what type of critter inhabited the depths of the Bayou but whatever roamed the fen added a bit of mystique. It was a "real" creature..just unidentified as of yet. Oh, how I love the foggy times on the Bayou!
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