Nehalem Tillamook Tales of Wild Men

Many Native American tribes have stories which appear to depict “Sasquatch” interacting with their traditional cultural experience. Such are generally categorized as “mythological tales” by those so anointed within modern academia. Perhaps such tales shouldn’t simply be dismissed as mere “scare tactics to help tame unruly children” (as is often suggested by modern non-native ethnographers), but rather deserve more careful consideration due to their having both practical and deeply-rooted cultural significance for the people who shared them in the first place. A number of the remaining coastal tribes of Oregon relate our modern conception of “Bigfoot” to their own cautionary tales of “Wild Men” who often lurked near villages, were known to be at times “cannibalistic,” were considered both physically and spiritually powerful and left behind immense footprints. This rather chaotic historical coexistence has been described in oral tales such as the following excerpts collected by Elizabeth Derr Jacobs, edited by Melville Jacobs, and originally shared by Clara Pearson (an influenza epidemic survivor from the Nehalem Tillamook):

“This happened in Nehalem. One man who had two wives would live far up the Nehalem River. He was living there that winter. Other people moved back near the ocean after the fishing season. But this man and his two wives were going to remain there all winter. There was snow on the ground. Once in a while he would go fishing for steelheads. He would spear them so they could have fresh salmon.

One night he was sleeping with his wife who was childless. The woman with a baby was sleeping on the other side of the fire with her baby. He awoke in the night, he heard that baby crying and crying. He called to his wife, “Say! Wake up! The baby is crying.” There was not a sound from her. He arose, he built up the fire which had almost gone out. He put pitchwood in the fire and made it light. A large hole was torn in the house, one entire corner of the building was gone. He walked to his wife’s bed. No wife! Just that little baby was there. He took his baby, he carried it over to the other woman. He said, “Something must have happened.” He lit a pitchwood flare, he went outside to look for tracks near that torn-out corner of the house. In the snow he saw tracks made by feet that long! (about three feet). Then he knew, “It was not an ordinary person.” He went back in the house; he said, “You know, that other wife of mine must be dead. I fear that she has been killed. That was a wicked being, that Wild Man has come and taken her. I saw his tracks. I do not care if I get killed. If I do not return, you must put everything you want in the canoe and go down river. Go down where there are many people.” He was not afraid, perhaps because he knew Wild Man, perhaps he had his power.

He prepared his flare, he spliced together long pitchwood pieces so it would not burn out too quickly. He made two long flares, he started out with one of them burning. He took all his arrows, he carried his bow. He started out. He could follow those tracks easily. After some time he put out the light on his pitchwood. He could see light ahead, a very bright light. Wild Man had built a fire. The man arrived there. There he saw Wild Man who had built a very large fire and was sitting by it. He had cut a huge huckleberry bush and had impaled that woman on it. He was cooking her by his fire. The husband thought, “I will watch him for a while and see what he does.” After a while Wild Man turned that stake around so as to cook the his meal evenly. He glanced at the front. The woman’s breasts were cooked. Wild Man reached over, pulled off one breast and put it in his mouth. As he reached across, The husband shot Wild Man under the arm. Wild Man brushed the arrow off, saying, “Ouch! Sparks are falling on me. Here I am merely eating my fresh meat and a spark had to light on my body.” He brushed that arrow off. He arose, he walked around, reached for the other breast with his other hand. In the same manner the man shot him again under the other arm. Again Wild Man brushed the arrow off “Ouch! Sparks flew at me.” He ate the second breast. The husband continued shooting at him. Suddenly Wild Man stood up. He ran uphill a short distance and stopped. It did not sound as if he had kept going.

The man went to the fire, he got his wife and pulled out that stake. He carried her home. She was completely cooked. He reached home and told his other wife, “Well, I found him. He was cooking her on a stake when I got there.” They would not go back to bed, they were frightened almost to death, they remained sitting up. Daylight came. The man said, “I heard him run, but very soon the noise of running ceased. It did not sound as if he went any farther. I am going to look now.” He went and found the fireplace, he followed the bloody tracks that showed up clearly in the snow. After he had gone a short distance he came upon Wild Man, lying on his face, dead. He had killed him with arrows.

He observed Wild Man looked like a person except that he was capable of many more activities than a normal person. He had an animal hide as a quiver, but also used a club to hunt with. Sometimes he used a walking cane. The man took the Wild Man’s quiver. He allowed Wild Man to remain lying there on top of the ground. When he arrived at home with that quiver, he and his wife looked inside. There were many arrows in it, and all kinds of animal bones, just as if Wild Man had saved those bones for souvenirs. Perhaps they were his lucky pieces. The man kept them, they gave him luck indeed. Wherever he happened to live, he had to go merely a few steps into the woods in order to kill elk. No one else could get them that easily.

The man made his wife ready, they put everything that they possessed in their canoe, as well as that wife’s body. They came down the river. Everyone was afraid of that place upriver, so no one made a camp there after that.

That is a real happening. That is why no one wanted to live anywhere without neighbors.”

…Indeed. If one had experienced such events, or even heard a similar story shared honestly by relative or trusted friend, it is easy to conceive why most would thereafter prefer finding greater safety in numbers. And, unlike a story of an attack by a predatory animal, there seems something personable and familiar regarding the being’s described behavior, something more akin to human. Regardless, variations of this next story might still be found within a modern Bigfoot hunter’s casebook:

“People were drying fish up the Nehalem River. They heard a noise, the brush was crackling loudly, they knew that no wind nor common animal could be making that kind of noise. They hurried into their canoes and crossed over to the other side of the river. They forgot their little dog. They crawled into a place and lay down to listen. Their little dog barked and barked, then suddenly quit. Then they heard a terrible noise as Wild Man knocked down one side of the house. Then he must have gone back into the woods. They could not sleep they were so frightened, although they knew it was such deep river that he would not be able to wade it.

The next day one fellow went over in a canoe to have a look. One side of that large house where they had dried fish was smashed to pieces. The dog was lying there dead, and Wild Man’s huge tracks were all around. The fellow came back and told the people, “Yes, I saw his tracks.” They put all their belongings and their fish in canoes and left that place for good. They would not live there any more for fear he might come again. After that no one would camp on that side of the river.

That really happened.”

…again, practical advice recommending that tribal members “…stay on our side of the river.” In the following story, one can almost feel a sense of sympathy from the storyteller, as if to imply that these Wild Men were members of a dwindling race, trapped within the cycle of a steadily diminishing coexistence:

“There must have been a whole tribe of Wild Men because there were always some around.

A Nehalem man was not married. He would go hunting and permit the married people to have the meat he got. One summer he killed an elk, and saved the blood. He took the elk’s bladder and filled it with blood. He made a camp near there. He placed that bladder of blood near his feet, lay down, and went to sleep. Wild Man came and helped himself to the elk meat. The man awoke. He was too warm, he was sweating. “Goodness! What is the matter?” he asked himself, looking around. It was like daylight, there was such a great fire burning there. Wild Man had placed large pieces of bark between the man and the fire so the man would not get too hot while he slept. You see, he treated that fellow well. When he spoke to him Wild Man called the man “My nephew.”

The man awoke to see Wild Man, that extremely large man, sitting by the fire. He had the fat ribs and front of that elk on a stick, roasting them by the fire. He said, “This is how I am getting to be. I am getting to be always on the bum, these days. I travel all over, I cannot find any elk. I took your elk, dear nephew, I took your elk meat.” The man stretched himself, he had forgotten about the bag of blood. He kicked at his feet, causing it to make noise. Wild Man looked around; he said, “It sounds as if a storm were coming.” (A Wild Man does not like to travel when its storming). When the man discovered that Wild Man was afraid of that noise, he kept kicking that bladder of blood. He said, “Yes, a storm is coming.” Wild Man asked “My dear nephew, would you tell me the best place to run to?” That man showed Wild Man a high bluff. “Over in that direction is a good place to run,” he told him. Wild Man started out running. Soon the man heard him fall over that bluff.

The man did not go to sleep anymore that night. In the morning he went to look. There Wild Man lay, far down at the foot of the bluff. He went around by a better route and climbed down to see the body. He took Wild man’s quiver, he left Wild Man lying there. Then he became afraid, so he made ready and returned from the woods taking as much meat as he could carry. He would not permit anyone to go bring in the rest of the elk. He said, “Wild Man found me, he jumped over the bluff.” He too found all kinds of bones in that quiver. They must have been lucky pieces because elk would come down from the mountain for him, and only he could get sea lions on the rocks.

That is a real happening.”

…It seems that the successful defeat of such a “foe” could bring great benefit to the “hero” in the form of lucky talismans: this likely resulted in an increase of social status by lending proof to the experience as well as granting improved means of provision. However, any assumed “victory” (as there hardly seems a clear definition of antagonist/protagonist in such stories, nor an absolute resolution or even moral) was generally achieved by means of cleverness and luck rather than brute force or other form of overt superiority (such as one commonly sees in mythological tales). Perhaps this is what makes them seem more plausible somehow, as if they were simply “common, everyday experiences:” cautionary tales such as one might informally share with a neighbor regarding navigation of a dangerous tidal zone, a close encounter with predatory wildlife, or difficulties experienced during a hard winter.

…it might also need be mentioned that there are tales of Wild Women as well, but they tend to cover much more ‘mature’ themes, and thus would best be explored at one’s own discretion…

Sources:

• Pearson, Clara “Nehalem Tillamook Tales” Eugene:University Oregon Books (1959)

• Oregon Historical Society “The Oregon Encyclopedia” (oregonencyclopedia.org)

Kirk Torren Smith

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