Kentucky Hauntings(10)

“Boys, how would you like to catch a Swamp Booger tonight?” one hunter asked in mock seriousness.

“Naw, no way!” the others answered as planned.

“Ronald, how would you like to catch one?” the first hunter asked.

Ronald shifted uneasily on the ground and looked at the group.

“I never heard of a Swamp Booger,” he laughed nervously.

“Well, we've all seen it and had a crack at it,” said the hunter, “but none of us could catch it. You might just be the man to do the job!”

Ronald was tired from the day's hunt, and he didn't feel like hunting anything else that night. He did swell up a little with pride at being referred to as a man. All he really wanted, though, was to stretch out and go to sleep. It was obvious that this was not what his companions had in mind.

“What do you say?” the hunter persisted. “You up to giving it a try?”

All eyes were on Ronald, intent on their purpose of getting him to agree. He felt trapped and uneasy.

“I don't know,” he said. “What would I have to do?”

That was all the encouragement they needed. They all immediately moved closer to give him instructions.

“It's attracted by sounds,” one hunter said. “You have to beat two rocks together and call softly, ‘Swamp Booger! Swamp Booger!’”

“It may take a few minutes, but you will hear it coming,” said another. “It drags its tail and growls a low growl just before it attacks. Don't let it get too close. It has paws with three claws only. You have to shoot when you hear the growl so it won't claw you to death.”

That didn't sound too inviting to Ronald.

“Why can't we all go hunt it together?” he asked.

“Oh, it won't show itself if it hears more than one person,” said a third hunter. “We'll all hide nearby and be quiet, but you have to go out and call it by yourself.”

“I wish I could catch it,” said the first hunter, “but it's too quick for a man my age. The man that brings it in will be a real hero! I wish it could be me!”

Suddenly, Ronald was caught up in the action by the idea of being a hero.

“Okay, I'll give it shot,” he told them.

One hunter handed him two rocks. Another passed him his gun. They helped him to his feet and pushed him along into the dark woods beyond the firelight.

They stopped and Ronald stumbled along alone, beating the rocks together. His self-confidence rose a little as he moved ahead. Maybe he really could catch this thing. It would be a great feeling to outdo the others. His walk was steadier now.

“Swamp Booger! Swamp Booger!” he called softly.

Back at the campfire, the hunters rolled on the ground laughing. They could hardly believe that anyone would really be dumb enough to think there was a real thing called a Swamp Booger.

They heard Ronald move farther into the woods. They followed at a safe distance so Ronald would not discover them.

“Swamp Booger! Swamp Booger!” Ronald kept calling.

Then suddenly they all heard something they were not supposed to hear. Something was dragging through the woods. Then it was growling!

The hunters heard the rocks go silent. A single shot rang out. The sounds that followed were terrifying. Ronald was screaming and struggling as the growling got louder. Then there was silence for just a minute. The hunters stood, unable to move, as they heard a dragging sound going in the opposite direction into the woods. They hurried to see what had happened to Ronald. It was horrible—and no longer a joke.

Ronald lay dead on the ground. His face had three claw marks. His gun had been fired once. The rocks were covered with blood, as if he had tried to use them to defend himself. Signs were evident that something like a tail had been dragged along the ground.

Ronald's death was ruled as “death by an unknown animal attack.”

The hunters thought about it over and over in the next year. Of course there was no such beast as the one they had described to Ronald. It was just a coincidence that some animal had come out of the woods and killed him. They put it out of their minds and went on their annual hunt. Nobody mentioned the fool's errand they had sent Ronald on the year before.

They sat around the fire and ate their supper. They were thinking about turning in for the night when faint sounds came from the woods. The sounds came closer and closer, and the hunters realized they were hearing the sound of someone beating two rocks together.

“Swamp Booger! Swamp Booger!” a voice called softly.

The frightened men dashed water on the fire, grabbed their gear, and loaded it on their truck. They drove as fast as they could and never looked back. Their hunting consisted of day trips from then on. None of them was foolish enough to go back into the woods at night again.