Come one! Come All! Read a little history from my home town, A story or two, and even a little poetry on the side. We are having a little welcome party here today. Featured from now on will be Minnesota History articles from around Goodhue County, Short fiction stories, and poems. Once a month I will feature a history story from around the world. I welcome readers to suggest story ideas, things they'd like to see here provided its history. So pull up a chair, stoke the fire place, and snuggle in while I put my Quill to Work to educate, entertain, and enchant you.

Now let's take a trip back in time to a place long ago, back when clamming was done not just on our oceans but on our rivers as well.

When you think of clamming you probably think of the oysters and clams harvested from the oceans rather than a river. You probably didn’t know that clamming was done or could be done on rivers. I sure didn’t until I visited the Pearl Button Museum in Lake City Minnesota. What I learned there was quite amazing. Clamming can be done on rivers and has been done on the Mississippi River and other rivers around the world.

At one point in time, Clamming and the Pearl Button Industry was big business on the river from Minnesota right down to the Ohio River. Around the Late eighteen hundreds and into the early nineteen hundreds the river was full of clamming boats as well as barges, paddle wheelers like the American queen and even smaller fishing vessels. Along the banks of the river were clamming villages that popped up during the pearl buttons hay day.  

To understand how all this came about you need to start at the beginning before the clamming began. Clamming has always been done on the river by the Native Americans who used the clams as food and on up through today. Although the clams are now inedible due to severe pollution and many clam species are extinct due to over fishing. The clams harvested now are used in producing cultured pearls (I will discuss this later.).

Not only did the Native Americans use clams as a food source but they used the shells for jewelry, pottery, even the larger shells as dishes. The whole industry, though, got its start with an immigrant named John Boepple, who was a skilled button maker from Hamburg, Germany. Before he started using clam shells, Boepple made buttons from wood, horns, hooves, bones, and seashells. He had heard about the clams and mussels in the Mississippi River near Muscatine, Iowa and believed there was a fortune to be made in pearl buttons.

He invented a foot powered machine and in his spare time began to cut, shine and sell pearl buttons. Eventually he found backers and opened up his own button factory. Unfortunately, he didn’t fare so well because as good a button maker as he was he was a poor mind with finances and lost his business.

The button trade, however, was already booming. Boepple’s invention was soon being used in pearl button factories along the Mississippi all the way up to Red Wing, Minnesota. The industry created many jobs. Little did people know however that the seemingly plethora of clams and mussels would eventually be depleted thus the industry would end. At the time, all they could see was a booming industry with no end.

The clams and mussels were fished in many ways including rakes. Some used small boats with hooks the clams would mistake for food and clamp down on. The clammers would then haul the hooks up and clear them off then drop them again to catch more clams. At the end of the day the fishermen would bring their catch back and the clams would be tossed into big pots of boiling water to kill them. They would then pry them open and clean out the meat which many used as food because the water was cleaner then. The best time for clamming was the summer months when clammers would move their families to the shore. They were supplied by packet boats that hauled groceries to the little tent villages inhabited by the clammers. During clammings heyday, the river was filled with rigs (flat bottom boats with dredges filled with clawfoot hooks for clamming).  

The shells then were loaded into wagons and delivered to the factory where the shells were soaked in water for a week to soften them so they wouldn’t break when they were cut. The factories employed many people. Men usually had the highest paying job of cutting the buttons because this was a skilled job and it was necessary to cut as many blanks as possible from each shell. They used a saw that revolved and cut a hole in the shell creating the button blanks. The blanks were dropped in a bucket and taken to be ground into an even thickness. Grinding also removed the rough outer shell. This job was usually done by boys.

Once ground the buttons were placed on a conveyor belt which took them to the finishing machine where the faces and holes would be carved. The buttons were fed one by one into the machine by hand. Once the faces and holes were carved into the buttons they were polished by tumbling in water and crushed pumice for a day. They were then dried in sawdust and sorted according to color, quality, and luster. Some were hand sewn onto cards while others went into boxes for shipping. These jobs were often filled by women. Even children under sixteen found jobs in button factories.

The boom didn’t last. By the early nineteen hundreds the clams were overfished and efforts were being made to replenish the clam beds. There were moratoriums issued in states along the river, but many of the beds did not recover. Pollution further complicated the issue and many species were becoming extinct. While new untouched beds were discovered in places in Tennessee and Arkansas, which would eventually suffer the same fate as the Upper Mississippi, by the nineteen thirties the Pearl Button industry had seen its last. With cheaper materials such as plastic available, manufacturers no longer used the shells for buttons and the factories either shut down or were refitted to use the new materials. Now the few clammers on the rivers harvest the clams for the shells which are broken up and introduced to clams to create cultured pearls. 

These are sent to Japan and other places around the world who manufacture the cultured pearls. Today the meat from fresh water clams are inedible due to raw sewage and toxic chemicals that pollute the river. The meat is thrown out or used in animal food. Sadly, many of the species of freshwater clams that were available all those years ago are extinct or endangered, add to that the invasive species known as the Zebra Mussel and our beloved river is in trouble. 

Resources:

https://www.red-wing.org/439/Clamming-Button-Making

 https://www.iowapbs.org/iowapathways/mypath/2697/pearl-button-story

Today's poem is Song of Thanksgiving.

For the golden harvest strong and hale,

For the gift from nature and creature as well,

We thank the lord above each day anew.

We sing our praise and thanks to you.

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God almighty,

Holy, holy, holy, lord of love and light

Glory, glory, glory, Lord God almighty,

Glory, glory, glory, lord of love and light. 

And Finally a little trip to a world not much different from our own. We will take a hike along which we will find strange and frightening things.

In my hometown, there are very few rules that are absolute musts. Especially since we are what many would call a normal sleepy midwestern town. Small, with just a couple of bars, a fire department, a city hall or police department, a gas station, a mechanic, a school, farms as far as the eye can see on three sides, and a state park along the north side of town. The most excitement we have is the annual town festival in October, The Golden Feast (a town festival to celebrate the harvest with games, rides, and a feast to feed the whole town).

There is one rule, however, that we never break, not even when the police are searching for individuals who've gotten lost in the state park. That rule is: Never go out hiking the trails after dark. It is common sense, as the trails have no lighting whatsoever, making it dangerous to be on them. The dark hides dangers such as fallen trees, cliffs, holes, traps, etc., and that doesn't include the animals that you could run into.

The thing is, there is something else out there. something more dangerous than all the other dangers out there. It is described by the survivors as follows:

It starts out with sounds and movements such as footsteps, branches breaking, heavy breathing, and moans. Then large shapes or shadows, unlike any known animal in the area, blitz attacks. slashing and ripping as it swiftly moves past its victim. Some often swear they see red eyes watching them, but only a few. 

Every year, the unknown attacker racks up ten victims, usually out-of-towners on vacation. They often think that the story is just superstitious nonsense and hocus-pocus. They then go out against all warnings, and many don't return. The few who do are traumatized terribly.

I learned just how necessary this rule actually is this past summer, quite by accident. That day, I decided to take a hike down the Twin Falls Trail to think. I write sales emails for a living, and occasionally I need a break to think things through so I can provide the best work possible. Hiking allows me to refuel and go through every bit of my work, making sure I don't miss a detail. Then I can finish the job and have a happy client. 

That was the plan that day: a simple hike to refresh and then back to work till dinner at MacCravey's Tavern, one of the bars in town. I left my little one-story blue house at around two p.m. that day, intending on a short hike—you know, about thirty minutes or so. The sky was clear and blue. The sun was shining, and everything was green. Midsummer flowers were in bloom, and berries were beginning to ripen along with other wild fruits. 

Although the day was hot and humid, in the high 80's, it was still beautiful. I noticed that as I made my way down the walk to my little white Ford Fiesta, where I dumped my hiking pack in the seat before strolling to the driver's side to get in. Buckling up, I steered onto Acorn Rd. and down the two blocks to Main Street, past several little houses and the post office.

I stopped at the corner and glanced to my left at the gas station and highway, then turned right on Main, heading away from the highway. I stopped at the little local grocery store simply called Al's for water and trail mix. AL's was relatively new in town, but it was already a hit. My best friend, Pepper, worked there, and today she was on shift when I entered the store. 

She was wearing classic skinny jeans, a shirt with the store name and logo on it, and a pair of biker boots. She looked almost native American with her darkly tanned skin from working on her parents' farm. Her gray or green eyes are almost always sober. I had no idea how she found clothes and shoes for her tiny frame. At four foot ten and around ninety pounds, she made me look huge at 5'2" and a hundred ten pounds.

The store itself was tiny, with just four aisles containing the necessary food items our little town needed. Aisle one had breakfast items and snacks; aisle two had baking goods; aisle three had canned foods and sauces; and aisle four had fresh vegetables and meats. Along the back wall was a tiny four-door cooler and freezer section for milk, eggs, and other perishable items. Next to the checkout was a shelf that held toilet paper, some cleaning supplies, medicines, and such. It had wood floors, and the front was one huge glass window, bulletproof, according to Allen Jinkens, the owner.

I quickly made my way to the aisle with the trail mix, mixed nuts, granola bars, and other snacks. I grabbed a few things from the shelves, then proceeded to the aisle with the water, where I promptly loaded four bottles of water into my basket as well. Certain I had everything I needed now, I headed to the front to pay for my purchases.

Pepper noted my clothes and what I was buying, and in less time than it takes to solve an algebraic equation, she knew I was going hiking yet again. "Hey, writer's block again?" She asked as she rang up my groceries.

"I just needed a break. My client is a tad needy this time around. He's changed things up several times. So I decided to clear my head in hopes I can come up with something he'll like and I can get this project finished."

"You aren't going alone, are you?" Pepper asked suddenly. I glanced behind me and noted I was the only one in line at the time.

"Will is working today. I'll see if he wants to hike with me for a while until he gets paged on his radio. He almost always goes with me when you can't. I'll be fine." I assured her.

Pepper glanced around, then reached out and took my hand. "Promise me you won't go alone." She persisted.

"I won't go alone. Besides, I'm taking the Twin Falls trail, and you know how popular that is. I'll take a half-hour hike, and then I will be back in town at MacCravey's Tavern for dinner. You know how I dig their California burger."

Pepper looked less than convinced. I couldn't blame her, though; I had been known to go on solo hikes every so often. It was not a smart thing to do, but I did. I was being truthful today. I had planned to invite Will; he was a ranger for the state park and another good friend. It was afternoon now, nearly 1:30. So, I didn't plan to go alone this evening. I was only planning a short hike, but I also knew how quickly plans could be messed up, and I didn't want her to worry. I wouldn't know later just how grateful I would be for her worry until much later that day. 

She squeezed my hand and said, "Be careful." She whispered it as I paid for my purchases and then had to let me go as her line was growing by the minute. "You go hiking alone, and I'll shove my foot up your rear." She called after me as I snagged my bag of items and swiftly left the store. I gave her a wave, knowing it wasn't much of a threat with her petite size. Still, I knew better than to ignore her; she was the queen of lectures. Back at the car, I quickly loaded my supplies into my pack and pulled back onto the road, heading to the state park. 

I made sure my hair was pulled back into a ponytail and double-checked my supplies. As always, I dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, hiking boots, and a baseball cap. Dressing appropriately for hiking, camping, or other outdoor activities is important. The proper clothes and shoes can prevent injury as well as protect you from poisonous plants like poison oak, poison ivy, and sumac. They also help protect you from insect bites. 

I carry a first aid kit, notebook, pencil, and pen; a map of the trails; my cell phone; a radio; and my wallet for identification purposes, and in case I need to pick up supplies I'm short on. I also carry a sweatshirt or jacket, a raincoat or poncho, an umbrella, a tarp, and rope to make a shelter; matches and a lighter; a compass; plenty of water; and foods like trail mix, jerky, granola bars, etc. It may seem like a lot, but being prepared can save your life. 

As soon as I finished checking to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything, I headed out. I had texted my family and several friends to let them know where I would be headed so that they could direct rescuers where to look if I didn't make it back by the time I had told them I would be back. I also carry a survival manual and a wild food book just in case. I had been raised by my parents to be prepared not only when I was outdoors but also at home with a disaster kit and plan of action for any eventuality. 

I headed to the north end of town, where the park was. I was excited for my hike and couldn't wait to reach the trail. Twin Falls Trail was a popular trail with locals and visitors. So much so that people were on the trail in nearly all weather except winter and severe thunderstorms. In the evening, park rangers made sure people were off the trails by six in the summertime and back in town or in the designated campgrounds. 

I drove down Main Street to First Avenue and made a left on First Avenue and followed it up to the entrance of Horseshoe State Park (named for the shape of the large rock formation just two miles from the visitor center where most of the trail heads actually start, including Twin Falls Trail; it's actually a bluff). The trail is named for the waterfall that is part of Tolamie Creek, where a line of boulders divides the creek into two waterfalls, each ending on opposite sides of the pond below, which narrows on the east side back into Lower Tolamie Creek.

I parked in the parking lot for hikers and entered the log cabin-style ranger station to pick up my day pass for the park. Ranger William Burk was manning the station that day. He was medium-height and fit with dark hair and blue or gray eyes; he fit the part of a park ranger well. Women often flirted with him, even though he rarely paid them any actual attention. He was sweet to me, if a little gruff at times.

I just enjoyed his company, even if he was always warning me to be careful on my hikes and growling at me for going alone. When he started growling, I simply offered to take him with me, and that settled it. He'd given me the channel the rangers used and even watched me set my radio to it so I could call for help if I needed it. I'm sure that there have been times when he followed me on the trails, although he always had a good reason for being there besides watching me.

What I didn't realize that day was just how grateful I would be for his watchfulness. He looked up as I walked in to get my pass. He was dressed as usual in his pressed green uniform shirt with a US Forest Ranger patch on the sleeve, a pair of khaki pants, and boots. His hair was about three inches longer than he usually had, making him look somewhat younger than his mid-thirties.

"Nature refresh again, Willa? I thought you had to work." He asked jokingly as he took my money and printed my pass for me.

"You know what they say: all work and no play makes Willa a dull lady." I chuckled as I signed the pass. That was how we talked every time. He asked me the same questions, and I always gave the same answer.

Will, as I called him, smiled as I tucked my pass in my pocket. "You got your radio charged and set to the channel I gave you?"

"Yup. I don't forget things like that; you know me." I answered as I handed the radio over to him. I glanced around the little station as he double-checked my radio for me. There were shelves with various items for sale; some items were souvenirs, while others were camping gear, informational packets, and books. Near the back was a little education space where visitors could learn about the park and everything that called it home. 

The rangers often conducted programs to teach about the animals and plants of the state park, the history of the park, the rock formation that gave the park its name, and even the importance of conserving the park lands for future generations to see.

"Here you go, all set." Will handed the radio back to me after he'd finished checking it. "Don't hesitate to use it if you get into a bind out there. We can be the most careful people when hiking, but things can still happen in these woods." He sounded gruffer than he had when I first arrived. 

I hooked the radio to my belt. "I'll be careful, and if I need help, I'll radio in. Scouts Honor."   I assured him as I prepared to leave.

"Willa," he said, starting to step around the counter to walk me to the door. "Don't stay too late on the trail. You know the park rules. No hiking after sundown. No one wants to scrape you off the rocks at the foot of Horseshoe Cliff or to have you vanish."

He looked so serious now that I had to reassure him that I had no intention of ending up that way. "I'm only planning a half-hour hike today on the Twin Falls trail. I know better than to be hiking after dark. You and my parents have drilled that into me. I do not want to meet an untimely end, nor do I want an introduction to the Creature of Horseshoe Park." I offered him a smile that I hope belied my confidence that I'd be fine and make it back long before dark. 

He cleared his throat before he spoke again. "Yeah, I know that. I wanted to make sure you were aware we are under a severe thunderstorm watch until ten tonight. The weather can change quickly in these parts. Pay attention, and if things start looking stormy, head in. If the weather worsens, either myself or another ranger will radio the warning. You're my best customer; I don't want to lose you." Then he grinned, "I think you single-handedly keep the park open; that means without you, I wouldn't have a job."

I chuckled. "I think the rest of the visitors help with that. I'll pay attention. Thanks for the warning. You could hike with me today. Keep me out of trouble." That was the first time I had actually invited him to join me.

Before I realized what he intended, Will pulled me into a bearhug. When he released me, he repeated his warning, then his radio squawked. "Gotta take this; I'll catch up if things don't go sideways as they tend to around here." He nodded and took the call. I took the opportunity to slip out and get on with my hike. I understood what he meant—anything could happen at the state park. He was taking a call about possible animal trouble at the campground—probably a lost dog, I thought.

I glanced at my watch as I took the paved path to the trailheads. 4:30 pm. I would be back no later than five. I had more than enough time to stop at MacCravey's for his famous California burger with cheese, Cheese Curds, and rootbeer float sans the alcohol for tonight; I didn't need to be fudge-brained while I worked. Nothing is worse than turning a client's sales pitch into an essay. 

I took a deep breath of the fresh air and took my time absorbing nature. I could already feel the reset starting. The green of the forest was dotted with brightly colored flowers that perfumed the air with their various scents. The trees stood tall as monoliths and as strong as warriors. They remind me of silent sentries set to guard nature's secrets. 

The squirrels scampered to and fro, playing as they gathered their winter fare. Every now and then, one would take offense at my presence and pelt me with said fare until I left it's domain. The birds took turns singing the forest melody as they searched for food or gathered bits in bobs for their nests. All the while, bees and hummingbirds sipped at the flowers as they hummed along. 

The deer cautiously wandered past me as they searched for tender leaves and grass to eat. By now, I was headed out toward the waterfalls on the trail I had chosen. I passed several hikers heading back. Some were with children who were dragging their feet as they walked, clearly tired of the hike, and others with their dogs, who were very happy for the walk. I glanced at my watch again. Four-forty five. I had fifteen minutes until I had to head back. 

I hiked onward. Vines were laden with raspberries and grapes not yet ripe enough to eat. Tree branches were heavy with nuts, and fruit that were still ripening as well. There were other berries, but common sense points out that if you don't know it, don't eat it. Five minutes later, I settled on a fallen tree and opened my trail mix. While I ate my snack and sipped some water, I closed my eyes and listened to the world around me as peace stole into my heart. 

I'm always amazed at the way nature seems to drown out the nearby roads and towns. I am amazed at how clean the forest smells, no matter how close humans are or how peaceful it seems. It is nothing like the rat race that is the human world. I should point out that it takes about an hour to hike to Twin Falls from the trailhead for future reference.

I got up and started hiking again, observing nature and trying to sketch what I saw. I was so busy sketching that I lost track of time and my location on the trail. It was only when I tripped on a stone that I paid attention to my surroundings, but by then it was too late. I glanced around and up at the canopy. The clouds I could see through the leaves of the trees were dark, almost black. Thunder rolled across the sky like a bowling ball rolling down towards the bowling pins at the bowling alley. It crescendoed above me like the roar of a cannon when it's fired, causing me to jump.

Great! I thought it was just what I didn't need. Then the whole forest was lit for a split second as lightning darted from cloud to cloud, reminding me of the flash of light from the camera photographers use to take a portrait. I knew it wouldn't be long before it began to rain. I set my pack down and unzipped the main pocket. 

As I pulled out my rain gear, I began to notice how cool it had gotten in the short amount of time since I had stopped and pulled out my light jacket. I slipped the light jacket on, followed by the raincoat. Then I placed my pack back on my shoulders and picked up my flashlight. During all this, the storm moved steadily closer, with thunder rolling to a crescendo so loud it shook the trees, followed by lightning flashes. 

I turned and started picking up my pace, that sense of urgency telling me I needed to leave now. My radio crackled to life as I walked quickly back the way I came, heading back toward the welcome center and ranger station. I could barely make out Will's voice over the static.

"Willa, do you read me?" Severe, barack, return to the welcome, barack, hiss, I repeat, A severe storm is Barack. "Please respond, Barack." This was followed by a barrage of hissing static. I kept walking as I pulled my radio off the belt.

"Will, I read you loud and clear. I'm on my way to the welcome center. ETA…" I paused to glance at my watch and nearly fell over. 8:15 Pm! What the hell is going on? Just a scant few minutes ago, I checked, and it was only four-forty-five. That just didn't make sense. I forced myself to calm down. I knew panicking wouldn't help anyone. Then I finished my transmission, "ETA half an hour." There was more static and a voice I couldn't quite make out. There was something about the weather, and that night was falling fast. At least that's what I thought I heard. I kept moving. 

Suddenly, a branch snapped and then another, as if someone or something else were out there heading for cover. I didn't let myself dwell on what I'd heard. I just kept walking, focusing on getting safely out of this storm. I could hear the footsteps clearly now walking behind me, following me. I took a breath, trying not to let myself think too much about what it could be. I think I was afraid I'd turn into a blithering idiot if I did. 

I noticed it had gotten darker. It was actually dark enough that I had to pull my small penlight out of my pocket to see the path ahead of me. That was odd to me since it usually never gets so dark until after 10 p.m. By dark, I mean it was pitch black out there; you couldn't see anything, not even your hand in front of your face, without a flashlight. I kept pace, hurrying back the way I came. The rain started falling in heavy sheets, making it harder to see than it already was. It glowed silver in the glare of my flashlight, and I slowed my pace. 

I picked my way down the path, careful of what I couldn't make out in the dark. I knew one misstep could kill or injure me. More thunder rolled and crescendoed overhead, followed by lightning—an explosion of sound and light that seemed to shake the forest like a bomb going off. Then the sound of the falling rain once again became the only sound as it dropped on leaves, trickled down stems and tree trunks, and then onto the earth itself. 

In the midst of that storm, as I trudged down the now-muddy path, I heard a sound that sent fear coiling into my gut like a snake ready to strike. A low moan rose into a scream. It was almost human, yet more animalistic and angry. Many would have said it was a cougar or mountain lion; however, I had been told that while it would be possible for one to be living in the forest, none had been seen in recent years.

I didn't discount it, though, and kept moving. The trip back seemed to take much longer in the rain and the mud. I kept hearing the branches breaking and sloshing footsteps in sync with mine. Every few minutes or so, an awkward moan or scream filled the air. I kept moving, purpose-driven to just get back to the station and safety as soon as I could. Suddenly, a rock hit the tree next to me. I jumped and turned in a circle, trying to find out where it had come from and who threw it. Then I lit up the ground near the tree where the rock had hit. A fist-sized rock lay there, and bits of bark stuck to it. I knew that had that rock connected with me, I might have been hurt. 

I shuddered and started down the path again, this time faster. I kept my light shining directly ahead of me as I hurried. More moans and screams filled the air, grating on my nerves. I moved relentlessly forward, determined to reach my destination regardless of my fear. Whatever it was charged in from my right. I swung my umbrella with my right hand straight out to the right when I heard the approach and connected with something solid, eliciting a grunt from the creature as a sharp object sliced through my coat and raincoat, drawing blood. It backed off quickly after the umbrella connected, disappearing back into the trees.

It hadn't done much damage, nor did I do much to it, but it had been established—at least I think it had—that for every bit of damage done to me, I would return said damage without hesitation. It stayed back for a while as I plunged forward quickly, almost at a run. I hoped that it had had enough with the last encounter and would stay away. I was wrong, however, as it dashed in from my left this time and slashed at my arm, leaving three rips in my clothes as I brought the umbrella down on it hard. The impact caused the umbrella to pop open and smack it yet again. The creature jumped back and faded into the trees before I could get a clear look at it.

I didn't take time to check my injuries; I just began to jog quickly up the path. More lightning and thunder were followed by an even louder explosion of light and noise. There I stood, breathing hard, staring at the large branch that had landed in front of me. More rain followed, and the wind whipped around me, the trees dancing in unison to the melody of the storm. Loose bits of rock, small branches, and even some trash blew in the wind, projectiles that occasionally hit objects in their path with a loud wet smack.

I caught something just ahead as branches whipped to and fro. I caught a glimpse of an orange arrow pointing down the path back the way I had come earlier, and I knew I was almost back on the paved path. Carefully, I clambered over the large branch rather than try to move it off the path. It looked like a large part of a tree. I knew it was too big for me to move, so I left it there, making note of its location so I could report it to Will. 

I heard my mysterious attacker charge me yet again and raised my umbrella to parry the attack. I wasn't fast enough, and I was knocked to the ground. Both the flashlight and my umbrella flew from my grasp. I crawled after them as it slammed into me again, rolling me over onto my stomach. I blindly felt around for my flashlight or umbrella as my face was squashed into the mud. My fumbling fingers wrapped around something, and I swung backward without hesitation. My weapon smacked against my attacker with a crack, and it screamed as it rolled off of me. 

Taking that moment of freedom, I lunged forward to my knees, turning my head as the sound of the branch on the path being moved caught my attention. I staggered forward and fell. The world erupted in sound as a rifle barked once or twice. The creature screamed, and the heavy branch fell back to the forest floor. A loud crack of thunder roared. The lightning illuminated the area as I stared behind me. A large black mass was vanishing into the trees, running swiftly, its moans and screams echoing in the woods as it fled.

I staggered to my feet, my weapon still clutched in my fist, as I turned toward the man who'd fired the gun, praying he didn't decide to shoot me too. I glanced down quickly and collected the pen light that lay at my feet. He approached as I straightened up, taking stock of my injuries.

"You ok?" He asked, and I suddenly recognized the tone of Will's voice. The next thing I knew, I was in his arms, shaking like a leaf and sobbing like a baby. He just held me for a moment until I calmed down. 

"I am now." I sniffed as we walked the rest of the way back to the paved path where his truck sat, parked, headlights on, and the driver's side door open. It looked like he'd just jumped out and made a mad dash into the state forest.

He wrapped me in a blanket he'd pulled out of the truck and poured some coffee into a mug from his thermos after he'd helped me into the truck. He handed it to me, and I took a sip. It was hot and tasted like heaven as I sipped it, savoring the heat and savory flavor of the rich drink.

"What the hell were you thinking about staying out so late and in a storm as well?" He snapped when he'd finally found his voice.

I looked up and said, "I honestly didn't know it had gotten so late." I didn't even make it to Twin Falls, and I should have. It only takes an hour to get there and back. I remember checking my watch at four-forty-five and then again when I started back. I was shocked to find it was eight-fifteen the last time I checked." I knew Will could see the confusion on my face.

"These damn woods have a habit of sucking you in, and then before you know it, you've been in them for hours. Still, you scared the life out of me when you didn't return. We've been rescuing hikers and campers since this storm hit. I honestly thought you'd make it back. You are one of the few who knows what they're doing, so when your friends and family started calling to see if you returned to the visitor center and were headed home, I knew something was wrong, and I bolted out the door, my supervisor yelling at me to wait until the storm passed."

In the light of the radio, he looked pale, almost white, if that is at all possible with his tan. I could tell he'd been afraid for me, and I felt bad. I told him what had happened again, reiterating that somehow I'd lost time and couldn't explain. He blanched several times as I described the encounter with, well, it. Will shook his head in bewilderment.

"You're damn lucky you weren't killed out there." Will hugged me again. Outside the truck, the storm lost steam, and the rain slowed to a sprinkle with light rumbles of thunder and occasional flashes of lightning. Will radioed in to inform his boss he'd found me and we'd be heading in. While he was talking, something hit the side of the truck hard, nearly throwing me into Will's lap. Will dropped the radio mic, shifted the truck into reverse, and stomped on the gas, spinning us around in one swift move. He shoved it into the drive, and we were shooting back down the paved path at a rate of speed that was definitely not safe in the current weather. 

Something slammed into the truck twice more, nearly forcing us off the path and into the woods before we began to pull ahead. The crunch of metal each time it hit the truck was almost deafening. My side was bent inward towards me, and the glass cracked ominously. Will's side was only dented as it had only taken the first hit. I glanced over my shoulder, and standing in the middle of the path, caught in the red glare of the taillights, was a huge creature, solid black with long arms that ended in claws. It bent slightly, as if the effort of holding itself up was too much. It bellowed its strange cry—half moan, half scream—and vanished into the surrounding trees.

Will did not stop until we were sitting in the parking lot of the visitor center. He glanced at me, and I looked at him as we sat there shaking like leaves. I started to speak, but he shook his head, then rested it on the steering wheel. Finally, he rose up, probably at the sound of his boss's voice.

"What the hell happened? What did you do to the truck? "Have you lost your mind?" The man rattled off the questions as quickly as they seemed to come to mind. Will helped me get out on the driver's side as the door on my side no longer opened. I studied Will's boss as he explained everything. He was about six feet tall, fit, had blond hair and blue eyes, and wore the same uniform as Will. He looked at the truck again, and then, appearing as nervous as a bride on her wedding day, he urged us inside. Will introduced him as Max.

"Miss, you are going to have to stay here tonight. More storms are coming through the area, and the road to town is blocked. I don't think it is a good idea to for you to try going home when we have a crazy person out there attacking anything that moves." Max explained.

I had no problem with that; I was long past wanting to do anything but stay put. "I don't think it was a person; it was huge." I said, glancing nervously at the window, hoping whatever it was didn't decide to attack the ranger station tonight. It'd probably shred the place and us too.

"Whatever it is, then, either way, it is too dangerous to be out there." He muttered and paced, "What am I going to say in the report?"

Will shifted in his seat and said, "An unknown animal attacked a park ranger and a visitor during the storm. Shots were fired. The investigation is in progress." He suggested, "We can't really say anything else until we know more. Our resident zoologist, Graven, should be able to help us figure it out. I hope." Will then explained what happened to me, then what happened to the truck, and we both described the creature as best as we could.

Max seemed to get whiter and whiter as we spoke. When we finished, Max got up and collected a couple more rifles and ammo just in case it came back. Muttering as he did so, "I knew it was real. I wasn't seeing things, and I wasn't crazy."

"You've seen it before?" I asked in surprise, and Max looked my way.

"Yeah, I was sixteen at the time. My friends and I went camping along a hidden section of the creek in the state park here. We were having a good old time drinking some beer my older brother snuck in and roasting hot dogs while scaring ourselves silly with campfire tales. We heard it. The footsteps, branches snapping, its hideous cries—all of it. We brushed it off as just a few animals out there hunting in the dark or other campers trying to freak us out. Then it charged out of the woods at us. It sliced up my brother pretty good, then charged another boy, Eric."

"Everything erupted into chaos as we panicked, trying to get away. Somehow we all managed to get into the truck, and my brother, still bleeding badly where he'd been clawed, threw it into gear, and we tore out of there everything we'd brought forgotten. The gear, the food, our clothes, the beer, everything. The police returned with us the next day and searched the forest around our campsite. They found some odd tracks, and the remnants of our gear spread out over five hundred feet, with the tent shredded. They blamed it on drug and alcohol-related delusions. That and a wolf or bear who'd stumbled on our campsite after we'd fled and ransacked it for the food we'd left behind. No one believed us, not even with the stitches my brother had to get after the attack." He shook his head.

I shook my head and pulled my notebook out. I wasn't going to get much sleep that night, and I knew it. I wrote a full account of my experience in my notebook, giving as full a description as I could of what I saw. It was out there, regardless of what everyone else said. Will and Max knew it too, but without evidence, no one would believe us. They would just assume it was an animal that attacked me when they saw the claw marks on my arms. That's the way people are when stuff like this happens; they don't want to believe there isn't a rational answer to things like this. 

The night passed without further attacks, though we could hear it scream every so often during the passing storms and in the lulls between. Maybe it has had enough of us for now. I prayed that night that I'd seen the last of it and that no one else would fall victim to it. 

The next morning, police were snapping pictures of the truck and collecting any samples they could find. We had to take them back to the sites of the attacks and run through exactly what had happened. My cuts, which had been bandaged by Will and Max, were photographed. There weren't any viable tracks due to the storm, and there was little evidence left either. A few hairs were collected from where they were lodged into the bent edges of the dent, but any blood or other evidence had washed away. Even with the tarp, Will and Max had thrown it on it before we retired to the safety of the ranger station. 

The funny thing was the look of absolute confusion on their zoologist's face as he tried to make sense of the damage to me and the truck. His only explanation was that it was a possible bear attack. I don't know about anyone else, but I've never met a bear that could keep up with a moving truck as long as that one did, especially on its hind feet, as that one appeared to have.

Will and I have gotten closer since then. We are a couple now. When I go hiking, he joins me. Safety first, he says. I'm fine with that; I no longer prefer to hike alone. Who knows, there might be a wedding in the future, sans the creature or whatever it was, of course.

  Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Ann Larual