J. W. Ocker - The United States of Cryptids - A Tour of American Myths and Monsters

Guaranteed to See a Cryptid or Your Money Back

Bigfoot exists: definitely, demonstrably, unequivocally. So do lake dinosaurs, monster cats, jet-sized birds, lizard-people, fish-people, wolf-people, moth-people, frog-people, and goat-people. All cryptids exist. Let me prove it to you. Wait, nolet me show them to you. But first: What the hecks a cryptid?

A cryptid is a creature or species whose existence is scientifically unproven. Maybe its been witnessed or rumored to exist, maybe its even been caught on video, but there is no definitive physical evidence to examine: no body to dissect, no remains to analyze. Scientists place those creatures in the category of fantasy instead of zoology. Cryptozoologists, though, who study and pursue cryptids, place them in the entirely separate category of cryptozoology. While the fantastical Mothman and the Jersey Devil may be the first cryptids you think of, a cryptid can be as comparatively mundane as a New England panther or an American lion; animals that once existed but are now believed by the scientific establishment to be extinct. Sometimes these animals are even discovered: the coelacanth, a fish thought to have gone extinct in the age of the dinosaurs, was discovered alive in 1938. A cryptid can even be an ordinary animal that is supposedly thriving where it couldnt be, like a population of alligators in the Manhattan sewers, or freshwater octopuses.

At least, thats the traditional definition of a cryptid. Since cryptozoology was established in its modern form in the fifties, the definition has widened to encompass even more fantastical creatures as more people grow interested in the topic. This includes extraterrestrial entities, creatures from folklore such as mermaids and gnomes, sentient non-humans like the Menehune of Hawaii, and even (possibly) robots. This expanding definition of cryptid isnt just because cryptozoology fans are a welcoming lot. Its because cryptid has become synonymous with monster, of any kind. Cryptid fans love monsters, and pop culture cryptozoology is basically Pokmon: we want to collect all the monster stories, and we want the widest variety of them in our collection as possible.

Its a messy word, cryptid. But thats what makes it fun. Most of us who heart cryptids are fine with that imprecision and arent overly invested in the -ology part of cryptozoology. We dont camp out for weeks in dense forests knocking on trees and scrounging for bigfoot scat. We dont charter boats and rent side-scan sonar systems to scrutinize lake bottoms for water monsters. Unlike cryptozoologists, we arent trying to scientifically prove the existence of cryptidswe just love the idea of them; we love the stories. And, whatever you think about cryptids, the stories are true. You many disbelieve that a lizard man attacked a car in a South Carolina swamp in the summer of 1988, but the Lizard Man mania is irrefutably documented. In other words, the story is true, regardless of whether the Lizard Man itself is real.

But I promised to show you cryptids, not just tell you about them. Were going to focus on these fantastic beasts where we can actually find them: in the towns that claim and celebrate them, that hallow the ground of the sighting, that tie their local cryptid to their identity and geography, and that capitalize on them economically. And for whatever reason, America does cryptotourism best and biggest (apologies to Loch Ness). According to a 2018 estimate by Loren Coleman, founder of the International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine, cryptotourism generates as much as $140 million annually in the United States. And those tourists arent merely following tour guides into the wilderness to prove that mosquitoes exist while looking for hairy hominids. Theyre partying at a festival dedicated to an alien pterodactyl that terrorized the town for five days a hundred years ago. Theyre pulling up to the counter at a lake-monster-themed eatery in a county whose biggest export is a whopper of a story. Theyre buying T-shirts and plushies at a monster museum in the middle of nowhere dedicated to a giant insect. Theyre going to Cryptid Towns.

But sanctifying your snallygasters isnt just tourist-trapping or trappings for tourists. Embracing a local monster can bring a community together around a shared identity. Outside of sports teams, that can be difficult to come by these days. But if youre the town that found a giant turtle living in your local pond in the 1970s or were attacked by a vampire cat in the 1950s? Thats yours alone to own, and you can name a park after it, theme a business around it, build a museum or a statue honoring it, and propose legislation to protect it and its habitat. Wherever cryptids are celebrated, the story is so much more important than the science.