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At Knott’s Berry Farm in Ghost Town, near the stables and beneath the windmill stands an odd creature known as the Catawampus, or “Species Extinct.” Here is a link to Part 1 of my journey of discovery to learn more about this odd creature. Below is Part 2 of my journey, read on…

I continued reading Professor Ananias’ journal. He entitled the next entry in his journal, “Meeting the old Prospector.”

Here is that entry: September 20, 1881 – I’ve been following the tracks of the old prospector’s mule and those beside it of holes spaced just like four-legged animals for a few days. They lead into a canyon. Cautiously, I urge my horse forward.

As we moved further up into the canyon, I heard a lot of clicking noises, mixed with a variety of what sounded like cows mooing.

My horse tripped on a rock, making a neigh sound as it recovered. I stopped, and the noises I heard had stopped too.

We slowly set out again making little noise. Shortly, the clattering sound like wood sticks being clapped together started up again, along with the cows mooing, but it sounded like they were moving away from us, faster than we would ever catch up.

Rounding a bend, we saw a small campfire with coffee brewing next to it. On the ground could be seen many of the holes that looked like they were made by some strange animals. Then I spotted an old man, standing outside his tent at the ready with his shotgun.

“Ya scared them off,” the old, bearded man said.

“What was that?”

“Ya scared them away,” he said.

“What did we scare away?” I asked.

“The Catawampus.”

“The Catawampus?”

“Yep,” he said as he spit something out. “The Catawampus, they’re a little shy about bein’ seen.”

I nodded.

The old man beckoned me down off my horse.

“Ya want some coffee?”

“Why thank you,” I said.

The old man had probably not shaved in a couple years, and who knew when he had last bathed, as we were in a desert and water was hard to come by.

“I spect they went up the canyon to the spring, if it ain’t dried up yet,” he said as he poured me a cup of coffee. I tried a sip, it wasn’t bad – it had a hint of berry in the flavor that reminded me of the blackberries back home, causing me to smile.

“Like that coffee?”

“As a matter of fact, I do, there’s a hint of some kind of berry, like blackberry.”

“It tain’t black berry. I found a few of these big purple berries, ne’er seen ‘em before. But them critters seem to like the leaves of the bushes they grow on. There’s a few up at the spring. But if the water’s dry, they’ll probably die off,” he said.

Then he offered his hand, “My name’s Dusty Mule, some call me crazy, and I know some refer to me as the ‘Old Prospector,’ but Dusty’ll do.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Dusty,” I said as I shook his purple-stained hand. “I’m Professor Aranias.”

“You’re kinda young to be a professor.”

“I graduated from college at the age of 16 and got my masters at 17.

“Why’d ya come out here?

“This is research for my doctoral thesis for a small college back east. I study and research new animals not really documented by scientists.”

“Well ya come to the right place. These little fellows took a liking to me, probably cause I like them purple berries and don’t touch the leaves.”

“May I ask why you call them Catawampus?”

“I dunno. Maybe cuz they’re a little Catawampus from any regular animal I’ve ever seen.”

“I’d like to see them and study them.”

Well, I think they’ll be back, they’re a little shy about bein’ seen by strangers. But I don’t think they’re gonna stick around this area much longer.”

“Why is that?”

“Cuz that purple berry plant don’t look like it’s gonna last much longer – so I spect they’ll start out across the desert to find more of them or something else they want to eat.”

“What do they look like?”

“Well, you probly won’t believe me, but they look like a bunch of bare sticks put together, with a small barrel for a heard, two horns that face down, and some hair that looks like dried grass.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you.”

“Well that’s the truth. You want more?”

I rolled my eyes and then nodded, “Sure, why not.” I made like I was writing all this down when, in fact, I was not.

“Well they have a mighty strange appetite. Besides the leaves of these plants with the purple berries, they eat coyotes.”

I didn’t know whether to believe him or not, but I had seen a few remains of eaten coyotes on my trek out to his campsite.

As it was getting dark, the Old Prospector served me up a homemade cobbler with some of that purple fruit. I will say, for a grizzled old man, he sure knew how to make a good cobbler.

As we stared at the fire, we heard a coyote yell, that was cut off suddenly.

“They got another one. Useful to keep the coyotes away,” Dusty said.

I just nodded. He went on.

“There used to be as many Catawampus as there were buffalo in the old west, but with more and more humans, their numbers have gone down as humans have scared them away. Farmers keep them away from their crops cause they think they eat their crops, but that’s the crows and other critters.”

“Do you think they’ll come back by your camp tomorrow?”

“I think they’ll come by tonight, now hold real still and turn around slow. There’s a few of them right behind you.”

I slowly turned and what I saw was, well, strange and weird, and exactly as described. I tried to count how many, but could see how many there were in the campfire lit darkness.

“That’s all the closer they’ll get, they’re kinda wary of fire.”

After seeing them in person, I agreed with the Old Prospector. They looked like they were made of sticks and just as he’d described. To say I was surprised is an understatement. All I could do was stare and wish I’d had one of those still cameras. I slowly got out my drawing pad.

Editor’s note: This is part two of a multi-part series. Here is a link to Part 1. Here is a link to Part 3. Return to this site in a week for the next installment in the series.

At Knott’s Berry Farm in Ghost Town, near the stables and beneath the windmill stands an odd creature known as the Catawampus, or “Species Extinct.” This is Part 1 of a multi-part story.

Now in the past it was thought that the adult Catawampus seen there was a male and was the last one – but now experts are beginning to wonder maybe it’s not that extinct, as now there is a young Catawampus right next to the adult at Knotts. Leading them to believe that maybe the Catawampus at the Farm was not male, but female. There’s no real way to tell even up close.

Or is it that the males take care of the young like some species?

And a second question: Since there is a young one does that mean there are more out there somewhere and they are starting to regrow their numbers like the buffalo?

I set out to find out more, and in my intense search for more information I found the lost journals of Professor Ananias who was, until his disappearance years ago into an abandoned mine in the town of Calico, the expert on the creature that looks like it is made of bare tree branches, known as a Catawampus, or “Species Extinct.”

Here is the first entry from Professor Ananias’ journal: “May 1, 1881 – I arrived at Calico, a new town that sprang up almost overnight due to a discovery of a massive vein of silver. But my interest was not in silver, gold or other such intrinsic things. Rather, I was more interested in the older prospectors’ stories of strange wooden creatures seen in the desert areas. I hope to find one or two of them willing to talk to me. I suspect I will be purchasing them a beverage at the local saloon to loosen their tongues. Secondhand reports indicate that upon sightings of the creatures they were apparently startled into silence. It makes me wonder what it was they saw that could have frightened them so.”

Apparently, the Professor did not find anyone who would talk for some time as his next few entries were simple ones: “June 30, 1881 – Still searching for anyone who will talk to me about this strange creature, though I did find out they were calling it a ‘Catawampus.’ I’m not sure if that is its real name, or just one they have called it. It appears to be a name based on something gone askew. Or maybe they spotted it after walking across an area in a strange manner, or maybe the creature travels in a strange manner.”

Then a few months later, the Professor stumbled across someone who would talk: “September 14, 1881 – I decided to roam around the hills in search of an old prospector named Dusty Mule, after Goldie told me she had heard him talk of the creature during one of his visits to her establishment. No one seemed to know where he was located. But I persevered.

I happened to see a lone strand of mule tracks going into the hills one evening and started to follow them, but it was getting dark and there was no moon. So, I stopped and made camp near a small clump of cacti. As the darkness took hold, I heard the sounds of the night in this forsaken wilderness – that of the coyote mixed in with the sounds of cows mooing in the dark. I thought that the cows were giving away their position in the dark to the coyote. Then I heard one moo a little louder followed by the yelp of a coyote that sounded like it was caught in a trap – then a ghostly silence. No coyote or cows heard the rest of the night. I fell into an uneasy slumber.

Sometime later that night I thought I heard what sounded like the clatter of wooden sticks being clapped together outside my tent where I had bedded down for the night. My horse did not seem to mind it at all. I was tired from not getting any sleep and ignored it. Pretty soon the wooden clapping sound moved away and I went back to sleep.”

A strange sound indeed per the Professor’s journal. What could make a sound like a cow, when there were no cows for miles around? I read on:

“The next morning, I arose and quietly poked my head outside the tent. My horse was still there, but when I looked down at the ground, I saw what appeared to be small holes in the ground. They appeared to be round, of various diameters ranging from less than one inch to nearly three inches. It seemed to me someone was playing tricks on me as the holes were spaced just like that of four-legged animals. They also paralleled the tracks of the old prospector’s mule into the hills. I resolved to follow them and packed up my tent, saddled my horse and set off.”

Editor’s note: This is part one of a multi-part series. For Part 2 click here. For Part 3, click here.