Grog Hollow Monster
Donald A. Windsor
So here we are, right up there
with the big guys. Loch Ness has Nessie; Chesapeake Bay has
Chessie; Washington State has Sasquatchie, and Chenango County has
the Grog Hollow Monster, Groggy.
Grog Hollow is a complex
valley fed by several streams and gullies which drain multiple hilly
watersheds. It lies within the Wiley Brook State Forest along the
eastern edge of Oxford, near its border with Guilford. The origin of
the name "Grog" remains elusive. Perhaps it is an acronym
for "Gruesome Repulsive Obnoxious Ghoul". Perhaps it is an
old Indian name for "Land of the bull monsters".
The focal point of Grog Hollow
is now a beaver meadow. It was a large beaver pond as recently as
2003, with six tiers of dams, but the beavers have been absent since.
They may have been trapped out, but I suspect they left voluntarily.
The aspen and alder, their favorite foods, had been exhausted and
they were forced to cut hemlocks. Beaver habitat runs in
multi-decade cycles. Beavers dam a forest stream. The water kills
the trees and allows sunlight to enter and a thriving pond ecosystem
develops with aspen and other deciduous woody vegetation along the
banks. When these plants are depleted, the beavers leave. Their
dams are no longer maintained, so they fall apart. The water flows
away and a luxuriant meadow results. Eventually the trees return and
the cycle repeats.
The
Grog Hollow monster was first made public when Bob McNitt broke the
story in "The
Evening Sun"
on Halloween 1979. He reported what some reputable good old boys
told him of their close encounters with this creature. Right after
dusk, one duck hunter heard loud pounding noises that moved closer
and closer. Although he was an experienced outdoors man, well
accustomed to being in the woods at night, these sounds he had never
heard before. Smart guy that he was, he exited. Dogs were afraid to
enter the area. No signs of raccoons were evident. A large beast
was seen, but was not a coyote, or a bear, and did not seem to be a
panther.
To investigate this matter,
Bob and two of his intrepid buddies spent an unforgettable night in
the abysmal darkness of Grog Hollow. He related their experiences in
another article on the following Halloween. These two articles are
required reading for any seeker of local monsters.
Bob's investigation deduced
that the monster may have been a bear. At least, that is what his
group encountered. They heard noises at the far side of the pond and
moving around to their location. Two days later, in daylight, Bob
found black bear belly hair nearby. Upon my asking how he could
identify belly hair, he reminded me that he is an experienced
taxidermist who is familiar with the belly of the beast.
In his 1980 article, Bob
uncharacteristically admits that his hair-raising experience may have
not been due solely to a bear. He cautiously mentions "psychic
phenomena" and "a spiritual presence", even a "murder
victim's ghost".
I have to concur. I do a lot
of wandering around in the woods alone and enjoy what is normally a
pleasant experience. But there are some places where I become
obsessed with a strong urge to depart swiftly. Grog Hollow is one of
those places. It is very easy to become disoriented in there and the
place can be downright spooky when the sun is suddenly blocked by a
cloud. It can be a bright sunny day with no clouds in a deep blue
sky, but go into Grog Hollow and a cloud somehow appears and hovers
ominously overhead. Bob warns that Grog Hollow is prone to hip high
fog, which makes it seem even spookier at night.
Should you ever dare to spend
the night alone in Grog Hollow, you will probably not be able to
sleep. The strange noises, punctuated by eerie silence, will keep
you awake. But toward the long anticipated dawn you may doze off.
When you do awake, the first rays of muffled light will illuminate
the mysterious haze and you may not be able to see Groggy, but you
will certainly feel groggy. And should you have imbibed a bit too
much grog the evening before, you may awaken to a monster of a
pounding headache.
Every
year or so, we Bullthistle Hikers venture out onto the beaver meadow
to search for Groggy. Unfortunately, or fortunately, we were not
privileged to witness the monster. Perhaps Groggy departed with the
beavers. Perhaps Groggy ate all the beavers. Perhaps Groggy has a
craving for hikers, with a side order of bullthistles. Perhaps
Groggy wants his order super-sized.
However,
one time we did have a scary encounter with the Grog Hollow Monster.
All's well that ends well. But for a moment, we thought we were
doomed.
It
was a glorious Easter morning, March 23, 2008.
We had just finished a joyous sunrise service on the aptly named
Gospel Hill Road. We were a small band of intrepid Bullthistle
Hikers out to explore the notorious Grog Hollow. All of our previous
searches were uneventful and we expected this one to be also.
However, this year we hit the jackpot. Here are the harrowing
details of our death-defying adventure.
As we cautiously approached
the extensive beaver meadow that nestles in the Hollow, we marveled
how spooky the dead trees looked, even in the bright early sunlight.
The snow covering the wetland looked like white frosting on a cake.
The trunks of the dead trees resembled candles. The previous day was
my 74th birthday and I, proud of my status as an old geezer, was
counting the "candles". My hiking buddies had paused for a
refreshing slug of stale coffee and some yummy bunny-shaped sweetie
cookies. We were enjoying the eerie silence of this mysterious plot
of treacherous wilderness.
But then we heard a soft
crunching sound on the forested edge of the frozen marsh. We all
glanced in the direction of the ever louder crunches. Soon we heard
the wheezing snorts of deep, heavy breathing. The unseen source was
rapidly advancing towards us. Perhaps it was a bear... But then we
remembered where we were and what it could be -- the dreaded Grog
Hollow Monster!
I whipped out my trusty camera
as we all stayed quiet, guardedly apprehensive but
uncharacteristically silent. Then it appeared. It was indeed the
fearsome monster. We were the luckiest, or the unluckiest, folks in
the county, for we were the first people to ever witness this
startling sight.
There
it is in the photo. Note that it seems to be an animated outgrowth
of the ominous swamp itself. Its long unruly hair seems lavishly
festooned with aqueous vegetation. It reeked of marinated carrion.
Although we could not see its eyes, we felt as if this fearsome beast
was watching our every movement and glaring into our brazen souls.
Suddenly, the Monster pounced
on one of our terrified hikers and was dragging her into the woods.
I took a photo and yelled at it to let her go. To my astonishment,
it did. But then it turned on me. I started running away.
When
escaping from the clutches of a monster, you do not have to run
faster than it -- just faster than the slower runners behind you. As
I was photographing the monster, my fearful colleagues had already
run away. I was the one behind. It was just the two of us, stalwart
hiker versus rampaging monster. In dire situations I like to reflect
on how I have gotten out of tougher jams than this, but alas, never
have I ever been in such perilous danger.
I did not know what to do. So
I said in a trembling voice, "Happy Easter". The monster
stopped his lunging rush toward me, stood as erect as its hunched
back would allow, inflated its massive hulk, and bellowed loudly,
"Have a nice day".
We waved good-bye to each
other and departed, I triumphantly back to my timid comrades and the
monster amicably back to its wretched lair. All's well that ends
well.
We have been returning to Grog
Hollow every now and then, most recently on Sunday October 30, 2016.
But alas, we have not seen Groggy again. We will keep looking.
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