Black Cats, Owls, and Ravens, Oh My!
The monsters we make
I read a book a couple of months ago called Encounters With Witchcraft: Field Notes From Africa, seeking first hand accounts of witchcraft for this newsletter. What I found instead was a system of somewhat mysterious and deeply engrained beliefs around witchcraft, which featured wildlife heavily.
In Africa, a visit from a wild animal, especially a nocturnal one, is never seen as chance. The belief that witches can control animals, change into them, and send them to do you harm is prevalent, so much so that there are rampant wildlife killings there to prevent a witch from bringing harm.
I remember reading an article in high school about black cats on Halloween. It was one of those local news scare pieces, featuring something along the lines of, “Don’t Leave Your Cat Out, Or It Might Be Dead Tomorrow.” Tales that ring truer to the tone of urban legend than real journalism detailed cat-nappings and killings during the holiday, due in large part to superstition, aroused by all the spooky decor and candy.
My gut instinct on those rumors are that they’re leftover accounts from the Satanic Panic, a time throughout the 80’s when parents were fighting to keep their kids away from large groups of secret Satanists who were roaming through the parks and forests lining small town America. If you didn’t know, those groups didn’t exist. At least not to the extent that news stories and church sermons of the day would have you believe.
I have to admit that I am a woman torn in two when it comes to my rational brain and deep seated superstition that crops up often. When I see a raven, I notice it, and not in a good way. During the summer I hiked up to a rock feature near a trail I take my dogs on. It offers a beautiful view of the mountains and plains. It’s a good place to start or end my day.
That particular morning was special. For the first time, I saw eight to ten vultures perched on a rock maybe 200 feet from me. Their backs were turned to the sun and their black wings spread to warm themselves. It was beautiful, but it scared me. I knew it was ridiculous to take anything but gratefulness away from the experience, but in the back of my mind, I wondered what it could mean, seeing all those creatures of death, their wings spread in worshipful expression towards the sun.
I’m still here, so it didn’t mean jack. But I guess somewhere along the lines I’ve adopted the ancient language of animals and omens. Animals are important symbols to me. Important beings in my everyday life. I love them. I revere them for their strength and beauty. I think about them everyday, the pets I own and the wildlife that lives around me. There is something ancient in their eyes.
Most of the Indian folklore I read is based around animals. Their spirits and god figures and totems and monsters are all images from the wild. A lot of the stories are for protection, to keep young children from wandering too far and getting eaten by a predator. But there are others, the skin walker of the Navajo people for example, that exemplify and define a real evil. JK Rowling tried to flip that legend on its head, referring to skin walkers as misunderstood wizards in lore she published on American witchcraft and wizardry.
News Flash: That Didn’t Go Well
The response was critical. Skin walkers are an important part of native culture, stories, lessons, and to many people, they are real. Witches who have the ability to possess an animal and control it, or turn into one themselves. A friend of mine once told a story of going to a Powwow. One young man there described a strange encounter from the year before. There was a dancer there that no one knew. He danced and danced, and later, when the young man wanted to talk with him, was nowhere to be found. They found human footprints leading away from the dance circle, but as they followed them, the prints turned into something like a dog’s.
As our lives have moved out of the wild in the West and into the relative safety of big cities, animals have lost nearly all their meaning. It’s evident in the food systems, our blatant mistreatment of animals as non-feeling beings. They are not sacred or feared. They are either domesticated, or the thing of myths. But in Western Africa and South America, there are still people who believe that an animal may be more than meets the eye. That it may in fact be magical, powerful, a human in disguise.
It’s easy to laugh at. I’m sitting with my dogs as I write this, domesticated animals that somehow were once wolves, but possess none of the clout those animals have. But when I hike, which I do often, I am aware. I live with black bears in close quarters. Mountain lion caches dot the hills I roam. I’ve stumbled on piles of bones, and quickly made my way out. Three summers ago, I encountered no less than ten bears on hikes in the woods. It’s what made me get a dog to begin with. The meetings were brief, cordial, and black bears are shy. But it has changed my relationship with animals.
There is something magical about wild creatures. Their presence is all at once captivating and terrifying. I am not exactly afraid of them, but I respect them. Revere them in their natural habitats. Their playgrounds. It’s not surprising to me that in remote places people feel magic in them, and I don’t just mean that in a cute way. It can be dark, encountering an animal in the woods. Your own body incapable of running or climbing, devoid of sharp teeth and nails, freshly bathed and clothed in your house of wood or stone.
I explored that helplessness in my recent short story, Night Witch. I was captured by the idea that an unsuspecting woman who pities and adores dogs could be taken in by an ancient magic. That a dog could be possessed by something evil never crossed the main character’s mind. Not even after a handyman is found ripped apart in her entryway.
In other cultures, a stray dog laden with chains would signal something very ominous, very bad indeed. That thing would never get past the threshold of a house. But in small town America? It’s a selfie opportunity. A sob story for the local shelter to tell. I liked the idea of evil in disguise preying on June Huntsman’s goodness, her desire to help.
I do wonder how omens come about. What makes people fear or attribute a certain power or meaning to one animal, and not another? In Africa, nocturnal animals are a main culprit. Predators are another. That makes sense, doesn’t it? If you live in the bush, night time is not human friendly. Leopards prowl. Hyenas devour leftover carcasses. It’s dangerous. Is that all there is to it? Or is there anything more, some symbology that came about as the result of a real supernatural encounter in the wild?
It’s interesting to see how our monsters morph over time. Post industrial age monsters are different. Products of science experiments gone wrong, alien invasion, and nuclear accidents. I recently re-watched I Am Legend, and thought how smart the storyline is. A cure for cancer delivered by viruses ends up destroying most of the human race. A skin walker probably isn’t as scary as that to most of us city dwellers.
But I live near woods now, and the legends that accompany wild places feature heavily in my mind. I don’t exactly believe them. Hell, when I’m on the highway driving to work everyday, I don’t give them a second thought. But when I’m surrounded by trees, I don’t worry about zombies or nuclear fallout. I worry about eyes in the woods. Creatures that look like animals but think like people. Watching me. Waiting.
Spooky!! Owls 🦉 are creepy imo. Cute sometimes. But creepy..
I often see human elements in dogs, the shape of theirs bodies can seem eerily similar to our own. Probably why the werewolf is such a prominent fixture in myth and stories.
On a separate note, I saw that crocodiles can freeze completely underwater with their snouts above the ice and survive until the water thaws. Say what?! 🐊