Archive for November, 2009


November 20, 2009

My son was had gone to a BMX award ceremony in Lincoln Illinois, and then he and his seven year old son when the St.Louis Six Flags for the annual Fright Night Celebrations. On the way back to his hotel, his GPS malfunctioned and took him to an old cemetary, which he neglects to mention in his article. He called me late at night and asked me about Mothman, and I said I heard he was some large crane with red eyes that stood about four feet tall, and that’s what the people were seeing late at night and scaring them. Here is what he wrote.

We were in Pacifica, MO, tonight around 11:30 PM and noticed a massive flying creature, not once but three times. My son even noticed it on his own the third time. We were near a large cliff/mountain with some type of cave openings. We don’t live in the area, I can say for sure we turned onto a road called Viaduct Road, went past a fire station and continued on for about 1 mile before we first noticed it. It was brownish/grey and the body portion was at least the size of a large adult human. This creature was tracking us – in a circle pattern. We were driving an Escalade with the blue color headlights and this may have cause interest in us. The third time around we viewed it in front of the vehicle, around the driver side and around towards the rear of the vehicle. The factory tinted windows did help it vanish into the sky from our point of view.

Please understand when we could see it the range must have been about 150 feet in the air, not more than 250 feet. The distance was never less than 100 yards, often much greater. We were going about 35- 45 MPH. I have never thought of anything like this in my life! Afterwards at  3:33 AM  my son and myself were wide awake in a hotel, 17 miles away from the place we first noticed the creature. Please notify me if you become aware of similar sightings. Thanks.

When I was asking him about this, I asked is he could see the wings, and he said he could barely see them but the whole entity appeared more like a bat, wings and all. He was up half the night researching birds in the area, as was I. I found the large Blue Heron is a night flyer and smaller a heron is a night flyer there too.  We live around tons of Great Horned Owls and have seen them flying at dusk so we are very familiar with them. We also have a habitat on the river that is a refuge for bald eagles. Having seen owls and eagles, he said it was not one of them and the body looked like a large man. The color does not fit either type of Heron around the Mississippi River in Missouri, so we are stumped. The head of ornithology at a university told me it was hard to judge the real distance at night but she wrote another authority who said it was great imagination, but she gets several of these calls a year. The head of the ornithology department then suggested to her they should more closely monitor the heron population in that area.

Was it an odd colored great Blue Heron, or Mothman? We don’t know but are very glad we don’t live near there. My son received an email from a person who had noticed in that area, the owls were not coming out at night anymore and coyotes were hiding  under buildings or anywhere they could find. If an entity frightens owls and coyotes so much, I’m sure it would scare me.  I think it had to be a bird, but there have been reports of Pteranodon type animals, and it really sounds like one of them. This is all true, but I still think it was a giant bird of some sort. What do you think?



November 5, 2009

I was on my favorite website, Celebrate Urban Birds, when I came upon a section of the site which gave the calls of various birds. Never  before do I believe I have heard a raven, not even knowing if they have residence in my area. But on a walk to the local grade school three days ago, I thought I heard one, remembering its distinct call from Celebrate Urban Birds. I looked in the tall and naked black branched trees, but did not spot any bird at all, but I suppose in the dense cover of these particularly heavily twisted branches of this arboreal oddity, it would not be expected to see anything at all, especially a bird so black. The call I heard, and remembered from the site, was like a common crow mixed with the harshness of a blue jay.

But let’s face it now, this post is not about ornithology, but the family named Raven. First my apologies to the wonderful people here and in Britain who share this grand surname, for this is just about one of them, my estranged husband, but oh poo, even writing those words sticks in my craw like I spoke them. His last name was not Raven, the his Mother had come from England and that was her family name, and she was a beauty, as was her mother, I must admit. My Raven was very handsome and had gleaming black hair, or maybe it was feathers,  and seemed normal, but as the years passed, this Raven sat on the bust of Pallas above my chamber door too long. If I ever asked if I could have some money, or if we could ever get a better house, or a bucket of paint, his answer was, “Nevermore”. He had this odd talents where he could gain access to the roof by shinnying up a downspout and run back and forth on the ridge like some kind of demon from the nether regions. He must have really been a raven, as he scowled everyday looking out then window, I envisioned him not sitting but perched. He hunkered in a chair because it must have been the closest he could get without actually displaying  his avian heritage , thereby exposing his true nature. I would not be surprised to see him hanging out with the Tower of London ravens, their collective memories at work awaiting a tasty morsel, like a still moist eye from a severed heard or going for the innards of some poor soul who was drawn and quartered flapping toward the intestines still in the act of their final quiverings hoping a few good pecks would expose some still undigested partridge or blood pudding. Oh the feasts the ravens of yore must have had on the impaled heads on the tower bridge, so yes, my estranged could definitely be one or them. Somewhere deep in his cerebellum he remembered and felt how his forbears lived and could not endure this human form with which, unfortunately, he was cursed. Oh heck no, it was me who was cursed until he fled the bust of Pallas when this raven became without worth and would start demanding tribute from me. No tribute for you, you eye-picker, so disembowel some other victim, there is nothing left here. So off he flew into the night, but the word “Nevermore” is still heard in my head everyday, and it has diminished me to nothing more that a gibbeted treat for the tower ravens.

October’s End

November 4, 2009

I knew this October would not be the glowing consolation prize received by us all for the impending Winter. The leaves stayed green, as usual on the silver maples until the third week in October. I walked the seven-year old to school, and everything was as it should be, but this was a short day and school dismissed at around eleven o’clock. I flew out the door, fearing I would be late carrying an umbrella to shield myself from the ever-present rain, and when we got back to the house, they yard was full of lemon yellow perfect leaves and the tree was next to bare. This all happened within a few hours. I never have seen anything like this. The change would be gradual and lovely to see, and for about three years the yellow leaves have lasted two weeks into November, but this year my  trees started waving their bony fingers at the sullen skies too early like they couldn’t wait to rid themselves of the last of those parasitic leaves that gave them life all through the Spring and Summer. I remember the day their red winter buds burst open revealing somethings that alway reminded me of grapenuts, and I have no idea what they are, but they fall like cereal orbs all in the gutters and everywhere causing immediate gutter cleaning because rain-soaked grape nuts will hold back anything, they are like lead. But soon the first tiny leaves appeared, and as Frost said, “Nature’s first green is gold, it’s hardest hue to hold” and I knew this time was short, but was in love with these days. Then as the leaves filled out and turned true green, of course the next deluge was the helicopter pods the trees shoot off leaving the hope of hundreds of new babies of which it seems, ninety percent survive. And if you don’t get to your gutters fast enough, the infant trees begin to grow because of the leftover dirty grape nuts which must be like egg sacs to them. Well, anyway, I was cheated out of the thinning of the green as the leaves yellow appeared slowly on a daily basis. I was so mad at the trees, I wanted to put those Halloween tree faces on them, preferably ones with big buck teeth, but it’s really not their fault, they are just making a fool out of Al Gore, because we also barely had a summer. I suppose Winter will come like a Jack Frost cartoon and I will bring out my old Ebay Mouton coat which I never have worn, because I don’t make a good Joan Crawford impersonator. And now racing season is almost over, and I can’t content myself for shopping for hoaky snowmen and Christmas trees that look like rocket ships or ornaments that look like they were prizes won at a carnival. My Lady Mollie living near Indianapolis will feel the depression of a cold winter too, and without the sound of Cosworth engines and our hopes for Juan Montoya winning the Nascar championship being crushedstewartcar copyrodmont, we will be a somber couple awaiting New Years Eve where we put Fred and Ginger to shame.