These four werewolf/dogmen stories were retrieved from Archives and Special Collections at Western Illinois University in Macomb, IL.
Adair County, 1985 – Bill Hawkins
I ain’t much for telling tales, but what I saw that October evening by the Chariton River changed me forever. Name’s Bill Hawkins, been farming this land since I could walk. Third generation on this soil, just northwest of Kirksville, bout’ three miles off Highway 6. My granddaddy bought this place in 1921, and we’ve worked every inch of these 300 acres since then.
That evening started like any other during harvest season. The sun was setting earlier, typical for late October, and there was that peculiar chill in the air that tells you winter ain’t far off. I’d spent most of the day combining soybeans, trying to get ahead of the rain that was forecast for the weekend. My oldest boy, Tommy, had helped until about 4:30 before heading home to tend to his own place over in Brashear.
Around 6:15, I took the truck out to check the fences along our north pasture, where it borders Thompson Creek. We’d had trouble with coyotes that year, more than usual, and I’d already lost two calves that spring. The light was fading fast, but there was still that purple-orange glow on the horizon that gave just enough light to work by.
First sign something was wrong was the cattle. I’ve worked with cattle all my life, and you get to know their behavior. They weren’t just restless – they were terrified. The whole herd, about thirty head of Angus, was pressed up against the south fence, as far as they could get from the creek tree line. Even from the truck, I could see them shaking.
I grabbed my flashlight and my old Winchester .30-30 – never go checking fences without it, especially at dusk. The air had gotten heavy, like before a storm, but different. There was this smell, like wet dog mixed with something rotten, and it kept getting stronger as I walked toward the creek.
That’s when I heard it – a deep, rumbling growl that you felt more than heard. Sent shivers straight through my boots. I swung my flashlight toward the sound, and that’s when I saw them both.
The wolf-thing was closest, maybe forty yards out. Standing upright, easy eight feet tall, with shoulders wider than my truck’s hood. Its fur was dark, almost black, but had this silvery sheen in my flashlight beam. But it was the face that haunts me – like a wolf’s head, but bigger, more angular, with these amber eyes that seemed to burn from within. Its hands – if you can call them that – had claws like curved daggers.
But the other creature, Lord have mercy, it was even bigger. Must’ve been nine feet if it was an inch, covered in thick, matted brown fur. Built like a linebacker times three, with arms that hung down past its knees. More man-like in the face than the wolf-thing, but not human – no sir, definitely not human. Had this massive brow ridge and wide, flat nose.
They were locked in combat like nothing I’d ever seen. The wolf-thing was quicker, slashing with those terrible claws, while the big one – what some folks call bigfoot – was using pure strength, trying to grab and crush. They crashed through my fence like it wasn’t even there, snapping those thick cedar posts like twigs.
The noise was overwhelming – snarls, roars, and this horrible screeching that set my teeth on edge. The ground shook with each impact as they slammed into each other. Trees that had stood for decades were getting pushed over like saplings.
I ain’t ashamed to admit it – I backed away real slow and quiet, never taking my eyes off them. Made it to my truck and got out of there. Called Tommy as soon as I got home, told him to keep his kids close to the house for a while.
The next morning, I went back with Tommy and my younger boy, Dave. The destruction was something to behold. Fence posts scattered like pickup sticks across fifty yards. Deep gouges in the earth, some nearly a foot deep. Found blood on some broken branches – both dark red and some that had a strange, almost blackish tint to it. Most telling was the tracks – some looked almost like giant wolf prints but stretched out like they were made by something walking upright. The others were huge, four times the size of my boot, shaped like bare feet but way too big to be human.
That was thirty-nine years ago, and I ain’t told many people about it. Changed how I farm though. Don’t work past dusk anymore. Built stronger fences with steel posts, not that they’d stop those things, but it makes me feel better. Started carrying my rifle everywhere, upgraded to a .30-06 for the extra power. Got myself the best guard dogs I could find – German Shepherds bred from police lines. They’re good dogs, but there are nights when something passes by out in the dark, and those dogs just whimper and hide in their kennels.
Been hearing stories lately, more than usual. Folks over in Knox County losing livestock. Strange sounds in the night around western Sullivan County. Howard County hunters finding torn-up trees and weird markings on trunks. Makes me wonder if what I saw was just the start of something. Like maybe these creatures have been fighting over territory all this time, and we humans just ain’t noticed most of it.
My granddaughter’s taking environmental science over at Truman State now, and she tells me about how apex predators need huge territories to survive. Maybe that’s what this is – a war over hunting grounds. All I know is that sometimes, late at night, I still hear those sounds coming from the direction of the creek, and I pray they keep their fighting in the wild places, away from folks who ain’t ready to know what’s really out there in the dark.
Marion County, 1996 – James “Jimmy” Wheeler
Official Statement given by James “Jimmy” Wheeler, professional driver for Midwest Continental Transport, regarding events on Route 61:
My name’s James Wheeler, though everybody calls me Jimmy. Been driving trucks since 1974, started right after I got out of the Army. Done every kind of haul you can think of, from Kansas City to Chicago and everywhere in between. Got over two million safe miles under my belt. Never had an accident, never failed a drug test, never even got a speeding ticket in my rig. I’m telling you this so you understand – I ain’t the kind of man who makes up stories.
This happened on September 23, 1996. I was making my regular run from Burlington down through Hannibal. Was hauling auto parts, had a full trailer. Weather was clear, moon was almost full. Perfect driving conditions, really. I’d stopped at the Wayland truck stop around 1 AM for coffee and to check my logs. Everything was normal.
I remember checking my watch just before it happened – 2:17 AM. I was about three miles south of Palmyra, right where that long straight stretch runs past the Marion City Lake. Speed limit was 55 back then, and I was doing right at it. Had my CB on, listening to other drivers talking about normal stuff – road conditions, speed traps, usual trucker talk.
First thing I noticed was this smell coming through my vents. Killed my appetite right quick – like rancid meat and wet fur. Thought maybe I’d hit a skunk, but it was different. Stronger. More… wild, if that makes any sense.
Then my headlights caught something moving in the field to my right. At first, I thought it was a deer, but it was way too big. This thing burst out of the treeline doing an easy 40 miles per hour. Crossed both lanes right in front of me – had to hit the brakes hard, felt my trailer wanting to jackknife. Thank God there wasn’t any other traffic.
What I saw in those few seconds… it was like something out of a nightmare, except I was wide awake. This thing was massive, easy seven or eight feet tall. Built like a wolf, but running on two legs. Had these powerful back legs, long arms with hands that looked more like claws. Its head was definitely wolf-like, but bigger, with these teeth that showed even with its mouth closed. Fur was black as coal, but had this silver sheen when my lights hit it.
But here’s where it gets even crazier. This thing was being chased by something even bigger. At first, I thought it was a bear, but bears don’t run on two legs at 40 mph. This other creature had to be nine feet tall if it was an inch. Covered in brown fur, built like a gorilla on steroids. Had this massive chest and arms thick as tree trunks. Its face… wasn’t like any animal I’ve ever seen. Kind of flat, with this heavy brow, almost human-like but definitely not human.
They disappeared into the woods east of the highway, toward the Salt River. The sounds that came after… Jesus. Like a wolf’s howl mixed with a lion’s roar, and this other sound, deeper, like nothing I’ve ever heard before. Went on for maybe five minutes. Trees were crashing down – could hear them snapping.
I pulled over at the next rest stop, had to take a moment. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely hold my coffee. Called it in to dispatch, but you can imagine how that went. Dispatcher just laughed, asked if I’d been drinking. I ain’t touched a drop since ’82, and told her so.
Found out later I wasn’t the only one who saw something that night. Farmer out near Philadelphia lost three sheep that same night, found them torn apart like something was fighting over them. Guy at the Marion County Sheriff’s office told me they got calls about strange noises and property damage, but officially they blamed it on vandals.
Changed my whole routine after that. Started taking I-72 through Illinois instead, even though it added an hour to my route. Bought myself a dashboard camera – this was back before they were common. Never caught anything on it though. These things seem to know when they’re being watched.
About a month later, I was at the truck stop in Bowling Green, talking with some other drivers. Old-timer named Earl told me about something similar he’d seen up near Kirksville back in ’85. Same description – wolf-thing and big hairy creature fighting. Got me thinking this wasn’t just a random thing.
Over the years, I’ve heard more stories. Seems like these creatures have been spotted all over northeast Missouri. Always the same pattern – territorial disputes, fighting over hunting grounds. Some of the old-timers say they’ve been here longer than the roads.
Had another encounter in 2002, less dramatic but just as scary. Was parked at the rest stop north of Hannibal, catching some sleep in my cab. Woke up to my truck rocking, like something big had bumped it. Looked out my window and saw one of them wolf-things sniffing around my trailer. Must have caught my scent because it looked right at me. Those eyes… like burning amber. It let out this growl that made my whole truck vibrate, then just vanished into the dark.
Retired from driving in 2018, but I still think about what I saw. Keep reading the local papers, following stories about livestock killings and strange sightings. They’re still out there, still fighting their secret war in our forests and fields. Most folks don’t want to believe it, and maybe that’s for the best. But I know what I saw, and I thank God every day that I was in my truck and not broken down on the side of the road that night.
Lewis County, 2005 – Mike Tanner
I’ve been a ranger at Deer Ridge Conservation Area for twelve years now. Name’s Mike Tanner, former Marine, did two tours in Desert Storm before coming back home to Missouri. Thought I’d seen everything these woods could throw at me – from poachers to drug operations to the occasional lost hiker. But what happened during that September patrol changed everything I thought I knew about these forests.
It was a Thursday night, cool for September. I was doing my final patrol before closing the north gates. We’d had reports of spotlighters in the area, so I was keeping an extra eye out for deer poachers. The moon was nearly full, and the sky was clear enough that I could patrol without my flashlight most of the time.
Around 9:30 PM, I was checking the back service road that runs along the LaGrange Ridge when my radio started acting up – just static and weird interference. At first, I thought it was just typical dead zone issues, but then my truck’s electrical system started going haywire too. Dash lights flickering, headlights dimming. That’s when I noticed the smell.
Anyone who works outdoors knows the usual forest smells – wet leaves, deer musk, the occasional skunk. This was different. It was like wet dog mixed with rotting meat and something else, something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. My first thought was maybe a dead deer somewhere nearby, but this was stronger, more… alive.
I killed the engine and grabbed my rifle – standard issue Remington 700 – and my heavy-duty flashlight. The woods had gone completely silent. No crickets, no owls, nothing. In all my years as a ranger, I’d never heard these woods so quiet.
That’s when I heard the first crash. Sounded like a tree coming down, maybe quarter-mile to my east. Then another, closer. Something was moving through the forest, something big enough to be knocking down trees. I radioed dispatch but got nothing but static.
I moved to the edge of the service road, using an old oak as cover. The crashes were getting closer, and now I could hear something else – fighting. Not like when two deer go at it during rut, this was different. There were roars and growls that didn’t sound like any animal I’d ever heard in these woods.
Then they came into view in a clearing about fifty yards ahead. Two creatures, locked in combat. The first one looked like a wolf, but it was all wrong. It was standing on two legs, easily seven or eight feet tall, with arms that ended in what looked like hands with massive claws. Its fur was dark, almost black, and its eyes… God help me, its eyes glowed like hot coals in my flashlight beam.
The other creature was even bigger. Nine feet tall at least, covered in brown fur, built like a linebacker times three. Looked almost like a giant ape, but different from any pictures I’d ever seen of gorillas or bigfoot. This thing was built for fighting, with massive shoulders and arms that looked like they could snap a tree trunk.
They were going at each other like nothing I’ve ever seen. The wolf-thing was faster, slashing with those claws, while the big one was trying to grab and crush. They’d slam into trees, and the trees would just snap. The ground shook with each impact.
I stood there frozen, my rifle trained on them but knowing damn well I had no business getting involved in whatever this was. The fight moved through the clearing and deeper into the woods, heading toward the river. The sounds went on for another fifteen minutes at least – crashes, roars, and this awful screeching that set my teeth on edge.
When it finally got quiet, I waited another thirty minutes before investigating the clearing. What I found there… well, it’s all documented in my official report, for what that’s worth. Trees up to fourteen inches thick snapped like twigs. Blood on the ground – some red, some dark and odd-looking. Tracks that made no sense – some like massive wolf prints but shaped all wrong, others like giant bare human feet but way too big.
I collected what evidence I could. Took photos, measurements, even some hair samples caught on broken branches. Made my report to the department, complete with photographs and GPS coordinates. Two days later, I got called into the regional office. They told me to rewrite my report, leave out anything “unusual.” Said it must have been black bears fighting, even though we haven’t had confirmed black bears in Lewis County for decades.
But here’s the thing – I started doing some digging. Found out about similar reports from other conservation areas. Learned about the incident up in Adair County back in ’85, and the truck driver who saw something similar near Palmyra in ’96. Always the same pattern – two different creatures fighting, one wolf-like, one ape-like.
I’ve changed how I do my patrols since then. Never go out after dark without my rifle and at least one backup sidearm. Started carrying a better camera too, though I haven’t seen anything quite like that night again. But I hear things sometimes, especially around the river bottoms. And I find tracks – always in pairs, like they’re following each other.
The old-timers around here, the ones who’ve worked these woods for decades, they say there’s been a war going on in these forests since before white settlers arrived. Two different creatures, fighting over territory. Most folks laugh it off as legends, but I know what I saw.
Last month, I found some weird markings carved into trees near the river – deep grooves that looked deliberate, like some kind of territorial marking. A week later, found those same trees torn down, with different marks on the surrounding trees. It’s like they’re fighting over boundary lines, only these boundaries stretch across multiple counties.
I’m retiring next year, moving down to the Ozarks where my daughter lives. Part of me will be glad to leave these woods behind, but another part needs to know what’s really going on. Because whatever these creatures are, they’re intelligent, they’re organized, and they’re fighting over something bigger than we understand.
Shelby County, 2013 – Jeff Miller
My name’s Jeff Miller, and I run a small hunting supply store in Shelbina. Been a bowhunter all my life, and I’ve gotten pretty serious about trail cameras over the last decade. Got about twenty Bushnell Trophy Cams set up across my lease – 180 acres of prime hunting land just north of Black Creek.
It started in early October 2013. I was checking my cameras like I do every two weeks during deer season. Everything was normal until I got to camera #14, which sits near an old salt lick about a quarter-mile from the creek. The battery was dead, which was weird because I’d just changed it. The SD card was nearly full – also strange since these cameras are set to take just three shots when triggered.
Got home and loaded the card into my computer. First few days were normal – deer, turkeys, couple of coyotes. Then on October 3rd, around 2 AM, things got weird. The timestamps show these photos were taken just seconds apart:
2:13:45 AM – First photo shows what looks like a massive dark shape moving through the frame. Blur suggests it was moving fast, but you can make out what looks like fur with a silvery sheen.
2:13:47 AM – Second photo clearer. Something bipedal, at least 7 feet tall, wolf-like head but all wrong. Arms too long, ended in what looked like hands with claws. Eyes reflected the infrared flash like fire.
2:13:48 AM – Third photo shows second creature entering frame from left. Huge, covered in brown fur. Built like a gorilla but bigger. Had to be 9 feet tall.
2:13:50 AM – Both creatures fighting. Image blurry but you can see trees bending from impact.
Then nothing. Camera died. But here’s where it gets really interesting. Checked my other cameras:
Camera #12 (300 yards west):
2:14:23 AM – Both creatures running through frame. Clear shot of wolf-thing’s face. Muzzle longer than a normal wolf, teeth visible even with mouth closed.
Camera #16 (quarter-mile north):
2:15:45 AM – Brown creature throwing what looks like a small tree at wolf-thing.
2:15:47 AM – Wolf-thing dodging, showing incredible speed.
2:15:48 AM – Both creatures grappling. Brown one has wolf-thing in headlock.
Camera #19 (near creek):
2:17:12 AM – Wolf-thing slashing at brown creature with claws.
2:17:14 AM – Brown creature bleeding but still fighting. Blood looks almost black in IR light.
2:17:16 AM – Both creatures crashing into creek.
All cameras after that were either destroyed or had their batteries drained. Found them scattered through the woods, some torn right off the trees. The destruction path led northeast toward the Salt River.
Next morning, I went out to document the damage. Found tracks like nothing I’d ever seen – some like giant wolf prints but shaped for walking upright, others like massive bare human feet. Trees shredded, ground torn up. Found blood in two types – regular red and this weird dark stuff that seemed to steam in the morning air.
Called my buddy Steve who works for the Conservation Department. He came out, took pictures, collected samples. Two days later he calls me, says to forget what I saw. Says the official report will list it as storm damage and normal wildlife activity.
But here’s the thing – it kept happening. Every few months, similar patterns:
Cameras dead or destroyed
Two sets of tracks
Trees damaged
Strange noises at night
Livestock missing from nearby farms
Started talking to other hunters, comparing notes. Found out similar things were happening all over northeast Missouri. Always the same two creatures, always fighting. Got in touch with a guy who saw something similar up in Lewis County in 2005, and heard about older sightings going back decades.
Been collecting my own data since then:
Set up better cameras, military-grade stuff with longer battery life
Started using GPS to track destruction patterns
Mapped all known sightings in the area
Collected local legends and stories
Pattern suggests these creatures are territorial, with ranges covering multiple counties. The fighting seems to peak during full moons and in early fall. They’re smart too – most of my new cameras get destroyed before catching anything good, like they know they’re being watched.
Last year, found something really strange – marks carved into trees, like they were marking territory. Not random claw marks, but deliberate patterns. Found similar marks twenty miles away, near the Monroe County line.
I’ve still got those original photos, stored on multiple hard drives. Sometimes I look at them late at night, trying to make sense of what I captured. Could release them, I suppose, but who’d believe they were real? Plus, part of me thinks maybe it’s better if folks don’t know what’s really out there in our woods.
Still run my store, still hunt these lands. But I do things differently now. Don’t go out after dark. Keep my bow and a heavy-caliber sidearm with me at all times. And every now and then, when the moon is full and the wind is right, I hear those sounds coming from the direction of the creek – roars and growls that don’t belong in this world. And I wonder if maybe these creatures have been here all along, fighting their ancient war while we humans just built our towns and roads around them, never knowing what really owns these woods.
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