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.
This Catawampus stands beneath the windmill in Ghost Town at Knott’s Berry Farm. Photo by Mark Eades.
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.
The boysenberry vines at Knott’s Berry Farm. The Catawampus reportedly likes the leaves of the Boysenberry Vine. Photo by Mark Eades.
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.
