We\u2019ve got crows back at home.\u00a0 In my town we see them every day.\u00a0 Sometimes solo, sometimes in a group.\u00a0 I am well aware that a group of crows is referred to as a \u201cmurder\u201d but despite this ominous label, they\u2019re pretty shy and generally fly away at the first sign of danger.<\/span><\/p>\n

But the pair of big black birds circling the point across the lake were something else entirely.\u00a0 I know that around the Canadian border ravens become more common than crows, and this is what I suppose they were.\u00a0 But these were really big– too big, possibly bigger than an eagle.\u00a0 And as they circled the point, the calls they made were unnerving.\u00a0 Nothing like the \u201ccaw\u201d of a crow, the sounds were screeching drawn out croaks, as though to make sure that every creature on the lake was aware of their presence.<\/span><\/p>\n

I kept quiet from my vantage point two hundred yards across the bay, and the travelers I had in my charge knew enough to keep still and silent.\u00a0 We were three quarters done with our journey that had begun at a clandestine location outside of Atikokan.\u00a0 I never thought I could become a smuggler, but here I was, tucked under ancient white pines with a man and woman who were essentially strangers to me.\u00a0 They watched the huge birds with me, whispering back in forth in their native language.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know what they were saying but the look in their eyes showed their fear.\u00a0 And these people have seen things in their homeland bad enough for them to leave with nothing more than a few possessions, and then give all of their money to a stranger who arranged for me to take them through the wilderness to cross the most remote section of the largest unguarded border in the world.<\/span><\/p>\n

Traveling by canoe along a route that my ancestors have traveled since long before there was a border, we had crossed the imaginary line last night, and by this time tomorrow I planned to load them into a van that would be waiting at a trailhead.\u00a0 This was where we would part ways.\u00a0 For now we were preparing to break camp at a campsite known only to me.\u00a0 \u00a0I carved it out of the timber a few years ago, and it is able to conceal not only a tent but a canoe as well. \u00a0There\u2019s not much canoe traffic this time of year, but I was doing a final check to make sure the coast was clear when the birds showed up.<\/span><\/p>\n

Figuring there must be something along the shore holding their interest, I fished my binoculars out of my pack to get a closer look at the sinister pair.\u00a0 To the naked eye it looked like a typical rocky point on a shield lake\u2014a smooth rock shoreline gave way to a stand of sparse bulrushes with a couple of boulders.\u00a0 One of the boulders didn\u2019t look right, I realized that I was actually looking at a dead moose that had floated up there.\u00a0 Likely a casualty from the moose season that ended the week before. That explained why the pair of birds were circling, and I pulled the binoculars away to study how the birds were behaving.\u00a0 They took turns swooping down low over the moose and then soaring higher than the treetops and letting out their disturbing calls.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then there was movement in the trees.\u00a0 I pulled the binoculars back up and focused in on the mix of birch and fir that was along the shoreline.\u00a0 At first I thought it was a bear, coming down to take advantage of the dead moose.\u00a0 But this was far taller than a bear.\u00a0 Then I saw the antlers.\u00a0 Some smaller trees parted and then what at first I thought was a moose stepped to the water\u2019s edge.\u00a0 I\u2019ve seen hundreds of moose in my time up here, but what I was seeing now didn\u2019t make sense.\u00a0 Sure it had antlers, and it was tall like a moose.\u00a0 But it was mostly without fur, and the color was all wrong, more of a sickly pinkish gray than the dark brown you would expect of a moose. I could see its ribs.\u00a0 And its front legs weren\u2019t really legs, they were more like long, gangly arms.\u00a0 Arms that ended in long bony fingers. Even though I was about 200 yards away I could see the glint of fangs. \u00a0It stepped from the trees to the water\u2019s edge.\u00a0 It paused and looked up at the circling birds.\u00a0 It let out a scream that hung in the air.\u00a0 One of my travelers let out a whimper, and I turned put a raised finger across my lips.\u00a0 I knew we were out of sight of what any typical animal or person could see, but this was far from typical.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I flashed back to many years before when I stared wide eyed at my grandfather as he told stories around the campfire.\u00a0 Flames flickered and birch logs crackled as he described an evil spirit called the Wendigo.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Many generations ago a lost hunter turned to cannibalism to survive, and his evil deed transformed him into a horrific beast.\u00a0 A beast that roamed the wilds with an insatiable hunger for flesh.\u00a0 Human or otherwise.\u00a0 While this story terrified me as a child, I never gave it any thought as an adult, as the elders had many tales of spirits and such.\u00a0 But here I was, miles from the nearest road, two strangers in my care, looking at the impossible.\u00a0 I subconsciously reached to feel the outline of my revolver tucked into the back of my pants.<\/span><\/p>\n

The beast had now waded into the water and its claws began tearing at the moose carcass.\u00a0 It ripped off huge chunks of flesh, hide, and bone with ease, shoving them into is gaping mouth where they were crunched and swallowed. The water around the moose carcass was soon tinged red with blood and the pair of giant birds took roost in a tall pine above the beast. \u00a0The carnage continued as the creature consumed impossible amounts in minutes.\u00a0 I heard one of the travelers whisper \u201cMonstoro\u201d.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t need translation to know what it meant.\u00a0 They had every reason to be scared now. I\u2019ve had face to face standoffs with wild bears, with big city gangs, with angry fathers.\u00a0 At least with those you have an idea of what you are dealing with.\u00a0 My grandfather never said how one would deal with a Wendigo.<\/span><\/p>\n

With most of the moose consumed, the monster let out another scream.\u00a0 I was back to looking through binoculars, which was a mistake as the beast\u2019s face and chest were covered in blood, and flesh clung to its claws. An image I will never be able to erase. Despite having consumed the better part of an adult moose it was still gaunt in appearance. \u00a0It took a last look around and I stopped breathing when its gaze seemed to focus on our location for a moment.\u00a0 It slowly turned towards shore and then disappeared into the brush.\u00a0 This cued the black birds to come down for what was left.\u00a0 One bird rested on the moose\u2019s hindquarter and picked away at intestines, the other rested on the head and feasted on the eyes and torn-open neck.\u00a0 After a few minutes they flew up silently, circled over our location and then headed in the general direction the Wendigo had gone.<\/span><\/p>\n

At least they went in the opposite direction we were headed.\u00a0 We sat in silence for a time, then I pulled out a map.\u00a0 I showed the travelers where we were, where the Wendigo had gone, and where we needed to go to complete the journey.\u00a0 I showed them my gun, which I had kept hidden from them until now, hoping it would ease their fears. It didn\u2019t do much to ease my fears. \u00a0It was a .357 revolver, enough to stop a bear, but what would it do to a Wendigo?\u00a0 I suspected there needed to be some version of a silver bullet to stop an evil spirit.\u00a0 I gestured to them to pack their belongings, which they did quickly and quietly.\u00a0 I calculated that if we traveled lightly and quickly we could be out by nightfall.\u00a0 I decided to leave the tent and everything else not essential.<\/span><\/p>\n

We slid the canoe down the bank, climbed in and pushed off.\u00a0 The woman sat on the floor in the middle, the man was at the bow.\u00a0 I paddled from the stern with intensity, we had about ten miles to the end of the lake.\u00a0 At the end of the lake was a portage trail of about a half mile that would bring us to the next lake.\u00a0 We had done a number of portages already on this trip, and after the morning\u2019s events I was dreading having to be on foot.\u00a0 There was no other way out.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

A light wind was at our back, allowing for relatively quick travel.\u00a0 The man was paddling as best he could, but it was marginally helpful at best.\u00a0 The woman kept her head down and did not move.\u00a0 Usually on this kind of trip I try to hug the shoreline to keep a low profile, but now we were tracking right down the middle of the lake. \u00a0I was making a beeline for a height-of-land where I knew the portage was, and we continued along in silence.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The paddle down the long lake was uneventful, and it was early afternoon when we reached the portage.\u00a0\u00a0 Once ashore we took a short break and ate some jerky, and then it was time to make the portage.\u00a0 It would be easier now since I had abandoned most of the gear. On earlier portages I had the travelers hide out while I scouted ahead to make sure we would not meet anyone on the trail, but there was no time for that. I think they understood me as I tried to explain the importance of moving quickly and quietly.\u00a0 I pointed to the trail and then to the packs and paddles.\u00a0 They took the cue and I put the canoe up on my shoulders and we plodded along through the forest.<\/span><\/p>\n

It took less than an hour to get to the next lake. There was a forest fire here several years before, and the charred remains of a few old growth pine stood in stark contrast to the young aspen, birch and spruce that had grown in the void left by the fire.\u00a0 This lake was smaller, with many bays and points, and we were soon back to making progress in the canoe.<\/span><\/p>\n

We came around a point midway down the lake. I looked to the end of the lake where we would find the next portage and stopped padding.\u00a0 Maybe 300 yards away was the remains of a burnt pine. Roosting in the tree were two birds.\u00a0 Big, black birds.\u00a0 The man in the bow saw them too, and muttered something to the woman.\u00a0 She looked up for the first time and stifled a scream.\u00a0 We had to go past them to get to the next portage, so I kept paddling down the middle, not taking my eyes off the birds.\u00a0 As we got closer it was obvious they were watching us too, their heads pivoting as we passed them.\u00a0 I kept looking back over my shoulder at them, but they held their position.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t know what the presence of the birds on our route signified, but based on what I saw this morning it couldn\u2019t be good.<\/span><\/p>\n

By the time we were at the end of lake where the next portage was, I could barely make out the tree anymore.\u00a0 I thought that perhaps we were in the clear, but then we all heard the unmistaken sound, the same sound we heard the birds making this morning.\u00a0 Even though they had to be over a mile away there was no mistaking it.\u00a0 The long, drawn out croaking continued for a minute, then it was silent again.<\/span><\/p>\n

I paddled towards shore so hard that the bow slid two feet onto the bank.\u00a0 \u201cGo! Go! Go!\u201d I yelled.\u00a0 The travelers seemed shocked at my yelling, as I had not said anything to them in the few days we had been together that wasn\u2019t a whisper.\u00a0 They both scrambled out of the canoe, grabbed the gear and headed up the path.\u00a0 I again wrestled the canoe onto my shoulders and followed. We still had another lake to cross after this portage, then it was down a creek to where we were to be picked up in a remote parking lot at the end of a forest road.\u00a0 We would be early, but maybe I could get a cell phone signal and get a call or text to the driver.\u00a0 Or maybe we could hitch a ride with a tourist.\u00a0 Any concerns of being intercepted by authorities has now taken a back seat to getting out of here and away from that thing that for all I knew was making its way south toward us.<\/span><\/p>\n

Since we were closer to an access point, this mile-long portage was well traveled and we made good time.\u00a0 The first half was up a slight incline, then it went down much more steeply to the next lake. We reached the top, and paused for a quick rest.\u00a0 I set the canoe down to catch my breath.\u00a0 The crest of the trail allowed a good view of the valley ahead.\u00a0 It also allowed a good view of two huge, black birds that were circling above the tree tops.\u00a0 The woman was not able to stifle her scream this time, and this prompted the birds to start up with their ominous calls.\u00a0 In the distance we heard another sound.\u00a0 It was a scream, a scream that could have only come from the horror we had seen this morning.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

While I felt a certain amount of responsibility to the travelers, my concern for them was waning.\u00a0 \u201cYou better keep up!\u201d I yelled as hoisted the canoe back onto my shoulders.\u00a0 I headed down the steep trail as fast as I could, and I could hear the travelers behind me, stumbling, but not falling too far behind.\u00a0 With the canoe on my shoulders I couldn\u2019t see if they were carrying the paddles. Didn\u2019t matter, I keep a spare strapped to the supports in the canoe. The steep path made a switchback and was able to see that the man was indeed carrying a paddle and pack, the woman was crying hysterically, carrying nothing.\u00a0 The path here was steep and rough, with many large rocks and roots creating potential tripping hazards.<\/span><\/p>\n

The birds were circling overhead us now, their croaks echoing off the hillside.\u00a0 We heard the distant scream again, although this time it didn\u2019t sound so distant.\u00a0 It was not possible for us to move any faster, but I took care to be sure-footed.\u00a0 I could see we were nearly to the bottom of the hill.\u00a0 Once there it would be level ground to the next lake, which was now only a few hundred yards away.\u00a0 I made it to the bottom of the hill where the well-worn path went through a series of large roots and then turned to dirt.\u00a0 Once to the dirt I flipped the canoe off my shoulders and let it land on the hull.\u00a0 The travelers were coming up fifty yards behind me.\u00a0 I grabbed the bow of the canoe and started dragging it, hoping the man would catch up and grab the stern.\u00a0 I started to yell at the couple to hurry but I was interrupted by another scream from the beast.\u00a0 It was coming from our right and I could now hear branches breaking and what sounded like breathing and snarling.\u00a0 There was no reason to think that the lake would offer refuge from this thing, but it seemed like a\u00a0 better option than facing it here on the path.\u00a0 The man was almost caught up to me, but he stopped to see where his partner was. She had tripped on a root and was now screaming, not sure if it was in pain or terror.\u00a0\u00a0 Probably more terror, as the Wendigo had broken through the brush along the trail and was now 50 feet behind her.\u00a0 She looked back at it and let out what she meant to be a scream but came out as a yelp.\u00a0 The beast was on her in seconds, and it picked her up over its head and slammed her to the ground. The man dropped to his knees, watching in horror as his partner was torn apart and devoured.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I resumed dragging the canoe as fast as I could, not looking back.\u00a0 The beast let out another shriek, then there was a scream that I presumed to be from the man.\u00a0 I tried not to think about the snapping and crunching sounds I could hear from behind me.\u00a0 The next lake was now in sight, and even though my entire body wanted to quit I was now running.\u00a0 The shoreline was sandy and I ran right into the water, allowing the canoe to float past me.\u00a0 I hopped in when the back seat was even with me, and in one motion pulled the tag end of the knot that held my spare paddle in place.\u00a0 A few quick strokes and I was twenty yards from shore.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The screams of the beast continued, and the black birds that had been watching the bloodbath from treetops now were starting to swoop around me, getting closer with each pass.\u00a0 The Wendigo was now on the shoreline and it let out the loudest scream of all.\u00a0 It stepped in the water to its knees but stopped, gesturing with its long arms and howling at the sky. Not knowing what to do next, I pulled out my revolver. \u00a0At the end of this lake was the outlet stream that would lead me to a bridge.\u00a0 For the moment I felt safer where I was.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The birds were getting ever bolder, and I could feel the wind as one of them swooped in on me from behind my shoulder.\u00a0 It wheeled around over the bow and came right back at me.\u00a0 It reared back at arm\u2019s length with its wings spread and its talons coming right at my face.\u00a0 Taking advantage of a perfect opportunity I pointed the gun barrel at the bird\u2019s center and pulled the trigger.\u00a0 Black feathers flew and the now silenced bird landed in the water and strangely sank out of sight.\u00a0 The other bird flew up high and then quickly descended, coming right at me.\u00a0 I had the gun raised, but the bird did not offer a good target and it flew past my head.\u00a0 Sensing weakness, it circled around and attacked, pecking me on the back of the head with its massive beak.\u00a0 I had to be careful not to tip as I tried to fend it off with the paddle.\u00a0 More determined than ever the bird came back at me.\u00a0 I fired twice, missing both times.\u00a0 With three rounds left in the gun, I knew I better choose my next shots carefully.\u00a0 The bird came from behind me again, this time it wheeled around quickly, planting its talons on my chest and pecking at my eyes.\u00a0 My attempts to fend it off with a fist were not successful and it got ahold of my eyebrow.\u00a0 I could feel flesh pulling away from my skull, and I pointed the gun right at it and even though I thought the barrel was pressed right into it I still missed.\u00a0 I resorted to using the gun as a bludgeon that I slammed into its neck.\u00a0 This had a noticeable effect, it let out a deep croak and let go its grip. I was not watching the Wendigo at this point, focused on the\u00a0dark feathered assailant.\u00a0 I could hear it though, as it let out shrieks and screams louder than a siren.\u00a0 The remaining black bird, shook up some from the pistol whipping, flew in a crooked path now, obviously having difficulty maintaining its course.\u00a0 I felt confident I could take it down with one of my remaining rounds.\u00a0 It came straight at me, I let it peck the top of my head as it went by.\u00a0 It circled around again, and once more I let it get me with a good peck to my temple. It made another loop around, and I was ready when it followed the same path of attack.\u00a0 It came right at me, and I was looking down the barrel right at the bird\u2019s head when I pulled the trigger.\u00a0 The raven\u2019s head disintegrated in a cloud of black feathers and blood and the headless body landed at my feet, wings still flapping, talons still grasping.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The shrieks of the Wendigo suddenly stopped.\u00a0 It stood motionless, staring out at the lake, not necessarily at me.\u00a0 I set the gun on the seat next to me, there was still one round left.\u00a0 I used the paddle as a shovel to lift the dead bird over the side and into the lake, where it too strangely sank out of sight.\u00a0 The Wendigo, while still a fearsome looking beast with its face and claws covered in blood and flesh, had lost its menacing posture. I pointed the revolver at it, right at its head.\u00a0 I was confident I could hit it, not confident that my one remaining bullet would kill it.\u00a0 For some reason I thought about the old saying, that if carrying a handgun for bear protection you should save the last round for yourself.\u00a0 Pretty sure the old saying applies here.\u00a0 I lowered the gun and watched the beast.\u00a0 With its long bony arms hanging at its sides it turned towards shore and with two big steps it was crashing through the timber, heading away from the lake, away from me, away from my exit point.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I sat quietly for a minute, trying to take all of this in.\u00a0 I could no longer hear the sounds of branches breaking.\u00a0 Was the Wendigo gone?\u00a0 Apparently they can\u2019t, or won\u2019t swim.\u00a0 The ravens must act as seers or scouts for the Wendigo, once they were eliminated it was like a switch was flipped.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0I thought about the hapless travelers.\u00a0 I knew it was pointless to go back to where I had last seen them.\u00a0 What would happen to me when I left the lake?\u00a0 It was now late in the afternoon.\u00a0 I slid the revolver with its one bullet into the back of my jeans, picked up the paddle and headed for the outlet creek.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

We\u2019ve got crows back at home.\u00a0 In my town we see them every day.\u00a0 Sometimes solo, sometimes in a group.\u00a0 I am well aware that a group of crows is referred to as a \u201cmurder\u201d but despite this ominous label, they\u2019re pretty shy and generally fly away at the first sign of danger. But the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":1609,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4,1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/wildsmallie.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1608"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/wildsmallie.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/wildsmallie.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/wildsmallie.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/wildsmallie.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1608"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"http:\/\/wildsmallie.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1608\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1626,"href":"http:\/\/wildsmallie.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1608\/revisions\/1626"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/wildsmallie.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1609"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/wildsmallie.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1608"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/wildsmallie.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1608"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/wildsmallie.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1608"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}