It was a great afternoon for bird watching. We had already spotted a couple of rare ones and were happily scanning the tree tops for more. Early Summer heat waves shimmered in the distance and cicadas kept a constant whirr in the emerald swamp around us. Every now and then a soft wind would bring subtle scents of honeysuckle and magnolia. The forest beyond held stories and secrets no one would ever know. These were hidden below layers of peat moss and time, or concealed in lush green forest shadow. Tate’s Hell Swamp is a land of mystery.
Finally, tired and sweaty, we decided to head home.The truck doors were hot to the touch and we had to lay towels across our vinyl seat covers, as they, too, were unpleasantly warm. Purple mists began to form above fern and palmetto, the earth exhaling. I felt uneasy for no reason, but Kane, my lifelong friend, seemed unfazed by invisible tensions surrounding us. I fumbled in my backpack for the keys, finally sighing with relief when I found them. That’s when we heard rustling and snorting coming from the woods around us. It got closer and closer!
“Roll your dern window up!” I screamed.
Kane remained frozen in his seat, staring out the window, immobilized by curiosity or fear. “It’s probably just a bear or a hog,” he suggested, faintly.
Finally, he grabbed the handle and rolled his window up. I tried to get the keys in the ignition, but ended up shoving them in backwards. Panic took over as I realized we were trapped in a hotbox, way out in the swamp, alone, and possibly in danger.
A tangled head of hair popped out of the bushes, eyes trained on us, with a look of surprise. “Get your cell phone and call for help!” I hollered.
Kane smirked and reminded me that there was no cell service out here in the middle of nowhere. My mind went blank as I trembled in fear. In the meantime, Kane managed to grab the truck keys and start the engine.
“Wait a minute!” I yelled as a large, dark figure emerged from the bushes. My camera was right there in the console, so I grabbed it and attempted to focus on the creature.
Whatever it was, was tall and covered in black, wiry hair. At first, I thought it was, indeed, a bear, but it’s face was almost human. Large, flat nostrils were flared to catch our scent and it’s ears stood out from the sides of it’s head, twitching. It stood upright, with long apelike arms, huge muscles flexed. The beast stood for less than a second, then began to run back towards the deep swamp. I aimed my camera and took as many photos as my shaky fingers would let me. Then, as we were driving away, I looked back one more time. The creature, standing upright on two legs, a half smile on it’s furry face, lifted one hand as if to wave goodbye. “No one is going to believe this!” Kane remarked.
“But I’ve got photos,” I reminded him, confident I had proof.
Later, back at our apartment, we buzzed with excitement, wondering who we should call first. Weak with anticipation, I checked the camera for my shots of the unusual swamp dweller. The shaggy body was somewhat apparent, but that was all, as the photos were out of focus and an evening mist shrouded everything in it’s thick, protective blanket. The Swamp keeps it’s secrets well.
