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. Here is a link to Part 2 of my journey. Below is Part 3 of my journey, read on…
Professor Ananias had found the old Prospector, and was learning more about the habits of the Catawampus that day and night. He did a drawing of one of the ones he saw that evening around the old Prospector’s camp.
It is indeed a strange looking creature. I’m not sure it is real to this day – but the Professor claimed it was, but all he could do was a drawing as he did not have a still camera with him, as they were very expensive back then.
This rough coal sketch of a Catawampus was created by Professor Ananias in 1881. Or so his (wink, wink) journal says.
This drawing was from his journal that I found the only copy of, so I kept reading…
September 21, 1881
I finished my sketch of one of the creatures and noticed that the herd had stopped moving. They were also getting harder to see as the old Prospector’s fire was dying down and the moon was disappearing under some clouds.
“You better get inside your tent and tie it shut, feels like a storm’s comin,” said the old Prospector.
I pointed out towards the Catawampus herd, “Why aren’t they moving around?”
The Prospector shrugged, “I think they do that so any coyotes coming by won’t know they’re alive, then they jump ‘em and get a meal.”
I just nodded, in slight disbelief. We both saw some lightning off in the distance. We both made sure our horses were secure in the Prospector’s makeshift stable, and I turned in, securely tying my tent flap.
The occasional lightning flash made it hard to sleep but I finally started dozing off when I was startled by a yelp. But it was pitch black and started to rain so stayed in my tent. I could hear some movement over where the herd was, they were in the dry wash.
The rain grew more intense, and I could hear the herd moving around – it sounded like they were moving away. Then I heard a roar of water rushing down the ravine, followed by more intense lightning and thunder and more rain. It was safer to stay in my tent on the higher ground.
Eventually the rain died down, and so did the sound of the rushing water – then it got strangely quiet. I peeked out the flap, but could not see a thing. I yawned and went back to sleep.
That morning, I woke up with a start, the horse was making some noise. I grabbed the sack of horse feed I had with me and went outside. The Prospector was at the stable, feeding his horse. I brought over my feed for my horse.
Looking around at the wash, all I could see was evidence of where the water had been, and a few small pools of water still standing – soon to be gone by the rising sun.
“Where’d they go?” I asked the Prospector.
He shrugged, “Probably run off thanks to that storm, or could have been washed downstream. But they got themselves a coyote last night.” He pointed at a carcass of a coyote, pretty much picked clean on the banks of the wash. Flies were already buzzing around the carcass.
While my horse ate its fill, I wandered down to the wash – there were no tracks of any kind.
“Thanks to that storm, you probly won’t find any tracks for them,” the Prospector said.
I nodded, but was determined to continue my journey and even try to trap one to bring back to the college. I packed up my things and thanked the Prospector.
“Good luck, they’re hard to find and can blend into any woods,” he said as I rode off.
Before going downstream, I went upstream and found that the flash flood had washed away the strange purple berry plant. The Catawampus would probably not be returning to this location any time soon. So I turned my horse around and we headed downstream.
November 1, 1881
I’ve spent the better part of a month looking for any sign of the Catawampus, but can find nothing. I hear stories once in a while, all of them pointing towards them heading up into the San Bernardino mountains.
December 20, 1881
It’s getting cold in these mountains, ice is on the ground and snow is at the higher altitudes. I’m running low on funds and have found no sign of the Catawampus at all, though have heard some talk about finding dead coyotes here and there.
As much as I hate to admit it, I must return home back east and report my findings for now. I hope my colleagues will trust what I have to say and not laugh me out of the college.
— Well that was the last entry of Professor Ananias’ journal from then. He was, indeed, ridiculed, for his findings. He left that college, and took up another trade, that of railroading – serving at first as a fireman, then an engineer on one of the narrow-gauge railroads that were servicing both the mining and the logging operations in the Rockies.
But he never gave up his quest, and after decades, in his senior years, came west to California again, after hearing rumors of a strange wooden creature somewhere near Barstow.
More in the next installment.
Editor’s note: This is part three of a multi-part series. Here is a link to Part 1. Here is a link to Part 2. Here is a link to Part 4. Here is a link to part 5.
