The wolf man of Cotton Avenue
Iwas investigating a big bird attack on Cotton Avenue when an old gentleman started to talk about a wolf man who lived on the river. I didn’t think much about it at the time for I was talking to the lady who called us.
We caught the big bird, which was an ostrich, and that made the call complete. Everything was quiet for a few days and then I got a letter from the front office instructing me to check on Cotton Avenue. People had called saying their animals were missing. Chickens were being taken from their pens and eaten.
I remember wondering what else is going to happen on Cotton Avenue.
It was a bright moonlit night; I turned my headlights off and rolled my window down. I was easing along when I heard a voice say, “Hey, police.” There on the porch, where the old gentleman had talked about the wolf man, sat someone. I stopped the car and walked over to where he was.
He began to talk before I got to him. “He is back,” he said. “Who is back” I asked.
He began to talk. It went something like this: “The man who is half man and half wolf. He lives on the river. It’s just certain times of the year that he comes close to the houses. He has been coming back for the last two weeks. I come out at night to cool off and smoke a cigarette. I sit here quietly and listen. When he gets close, I go inside.”
I could not believe what the old gentleman was saying, but in my business you had to ask questions and listen.
“He is about five feet tall, ‘cause he runs bent over,” the old gentleman said. “He has long hair all over him. His teeth is long with fangs.” Then he got up. “He is close to us now. I am going inside. Be careful, officer, for he is dangerous.”
I watched as he closed the door, saying to myself with a smile on my face, “Sure he’s dangerous.” But as I reached for the car door handle, I froze. A sound the likes that I had never heard came from down toward the river. It was a sound between the screaming of a high pitched voice and a growl.
I got in the car and called for another car to come to me. I had then — and still do — a sawed off shotgun. I placed the shotgun in the seat beside me and eased on toward the river. The night was quiet and I could hear the wind blowing in the trees. There was a small lake beside the road where I stopped. With the lake behind me I reached and got the shotgun.
As I got out of the car I was met with another loud scream and then a growl. It came from a tree that was close to me. I reached back and got my flashlight. Then, from in front of me, another growl. I had the shotgun loaded with doubleaught buckshot ... Another high pitched scream, something running in the grass and weeds in front of me. Then a growl came from the tree again.
I could see the lights from the police car as it turned on Cotton Street. I signaled with my flashlight and he pulled up behind my car and got out. I explained what the old man had said and what I had heard. He laughed, saying, “Lieutenant, you don’t believe that do you?” Before I could answer a loud scream came from just a few feet in front of us.
I looked over at the officer and he had his gun in his hand. I moved and whatever was in the bushes let out a low growl. The sound of the shotgun in the still of the night sounded like a cannon. I will never forget the scream that sounded like a woman and I remember thinking that I had shot someone who was playing a joke on me. Silently I kept my gun pointed toward the bushes. Nothing. Then from down on the river bank, a loud scream and then quiet.
The officer came around the car to me. “Lieutenant, you hit something. I saw it run out though the bushes.” I remember laughing and saying, “If it had not been a shotgun I would not have hit it.” My hands at the time of the last scream was not too steady.
I want someone to tell me that they have never been scared. Being scared and being a coward is two different things. You can be scared and still stand up and face whatever it is. A coward turns tail and runs.
We stood around for a while but everything was quiet. We talked about it and came to the conclusion that, whatever it was, there were two of them. We decided that we would have no more trouble that night.
When we were getting off, the dispatcher came over to me and asked if I hit what I shot at. I motioned toward the officer who had been with me. “Ask him.” I went back and started signing reports, getting ready to go home, and I started to laugh, I could hear the men ragging the officer out in the hall way. Then the door opened and the officer say, “Come in here and laugh at the lieutenant and tell him he is crazy.” He got no takers so he closed the door.
I sat many nights with the window down with my shotgun resting in the seat, waiting for the wolf man. We never got any more calls, as far as I can remember. I have often wondered what it was. As far back as I can remember, I have heard of black panthers that roamed in this area. I have never seen one. I have seen bears but no wolf man or black panthers.
I will say, if you are close when whatever it is lets out a scream or a low growl, chill bumps will run up your backbone.