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My obsession with a mysterious animal.


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#1    Galego

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Posted 23 January 2014 - 09:22 PM

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Hello. First of all, I would like to introduce myself and say hi to everyone in this forum. And also apologize for any mistakes I make while writing in English. It's not my native language, so I hope you to be understanding. I am twenty five years old and born in Galicia, a region located in the northwest of Spain. The place called Finis Terrae (End of the Earth) by the Romans.

I know this forum is specific about sightings and encounters with cryptozoologycal creatures, but the story I'm about to tell is related to the subject, while not being supernatural or exactly cryptid.

I suppose most of you, being from the U.K., the U.S., Australia, Ireland and other places, probably don't know anything about my homeland. So I will explain a little about Galicia. It's a green land, full of forests, with old and low mountains in the interior areas (the highest mountain is about 2000 or 3000 m. high) and plenty of hills and rivers. The shoreline is abrupt and with high cliffs. My land is foggy and rainy as hell, except during the summer months. And with harsh winters, specially in the interior areas, like the one I'm from. Our culture is a lot different from the rest of Spain, being of alleged celtic origin (We descend from the Castrexos, or Castro People. And no, not the ones from Cuba.), and really rich in mythology and legends, albeit very influenced by Catholicism. In fact, Galician people are kind of superstitious, believing in Christian religion with pagan touches and folklore. We have a language of our own, besides the spanish, and although there are some big cities, most of the population lives in small towns and rural villages where agrarian economies and lifestyles are still common. I was born in one of those rural villages and lived there most of my childhood. In case you are interested, here is the wikipedia link for Galicia:
http://en.wikipedia..../Galicia,_Spain

And now, the story. Fifteen years ago, when I was ten, I was spending the summer in my grandfather's house. It is an old house, build with stone and wood, located in the valley of the river Tea (It means Torch in Galician, not tea), deep within the forest (at least by the standards of our country, that is in fact small.). The nearest village to my grandfather's house (the one I was born and lived back then) is 17 km away. The house is located in the valley between two mountains, the Picaraña and the Villasobroso, in the San Domedio Mountain Range, and the land that belongs to the house covers around 2 or 3 square km.

As I said, I was a kid back then, and I had a dog, a german shepherd called Breogán. I used to wander into the forest with him for hours, chasing little animals and birds, and exploring. I get to know those woods really well. It wasn't really dangerous. We have no big predators in that area. There are some wolves (Canis Lupus Signatus http://en.wikipedia....ki/Iberian_wolf We call them Lobos, or Xaus) in the mountains, but they are not the big ones that live in the States or Canada, and they are usually scared of people. And of dogs. Also, they are not many. So as long as I had Breogán with me, I had nothing to fear from them. There are some other places in Galicia where some bears (Osos) still live in the wild, but this was not one of them. The most dangerous animal I may run into that forest was a wild boar (Xabarín, Porco Bravo), and I did a few times, but if you don't bother them, and keep your dog controlled, they won't bother you.

As I said, I used to wander into the woods with my dog a lot. Sometimes until nightfall. When that happened, we use to run into some foxes (Raposos, Milmañas). They used to fill the forest with that strange (and kind of scary) sound they make. Breogán loved chasing them, so I usually let him. But there was a night, we found something else. We were going back home after dark, and my dog started acting a little strange. I thought he might have found the trail of a fox, so I told him to search. He started smelling around in the ground and tree trunks, and I followed him. I had a flashlight, but I turned it off to not scare the fox. It was a clear night, with a bright moon and I knew the forest and I knew where we were, so I was not afraid of getting lost. He led me to a place where the hunters use to camp when they hunt xabaríns and corzos (A species of deer). It is an old destroyed house that is around 5 km away from my grandfather's house. There are only still semi intact two of the stone walls, so it makes some kind of shelter. And suddenly my dog stopped and started barking and growling towards a pile of rocks that once have been part of the old house. He approached the rocks slowly. I thought that was the place the fox must be hiding. But something else jumped out. Something bigger and much wider. It made a strange growling sound, but different of anything I've ever heard in the forest, and attacked Breogán. I panicked. Tried to get my flashlight, but I couldn't find it. My dog and the animal were screaming and fighting and I couldn't barely see anything. The only thing I saw was that the attacker had grey or black fur and a really big mouth full of sharp teeth. So I ran and left my dog behind. I ran to the limit of the trees. I could see my grandfather's house lights in the distance. So I turn around and started looking in my pockets till I found my flashlight and I started calling Breogán. I started crying, or maybe I already was. I don't know. I was terrified. After a while, I heard something coming out of the woods. I pointed the flashlight in the direction, thinking a lobishome (Galician werewolf) or something worst will come out and eat me. But it was Breogán. And he was bleeding. The animal that attacked us had bitten him in the nose and the neck, and slashed him badly in the chest. He was limping. His left forepaw was injured. And he started licking my face and whining and nervously barking. So I ran home with him as fast as we could. When I told the story, at first, everyone thought that the animal must be a boar. They didn't believe me when I said it had claws and fangs. But when a veterinary looked at Breogán wounds, he said that it must have been a dog, or even a wolf. I knew it wasn't any of those things. I may not have known what I have saw, but I knew what I haven't. And it wasn't no dog or wolf. And certainly no wild boar.

After that, my parents and my grandfather didn't wanted me to go to the forest anymore. And neither did I, at first. But as soon as Breogán was healed (his injuries weren't serious, fortunately, although at first we thought he was going to loose an eye) I started to go back. Never that deep into the woods, and never at night. My grandfather was a hunter, and many of my family are. I was starting to practice archery with one of my uncles, and I had a bow (a recurved bow for beginners, not really potent but it made me feel safe) so I always carried it when I was there. I was still scared. Really afraid, actually. But even more curious. All I could think was "What the hell was that thing?". I dreamed with it frequently. Sometimes nightmares where it chased me. Sometimes memories of that night. Sometimes I was the one that chased it, but never being able to see it. So my grandfather started telling me stories about all kind of legends. He told me of Manuel Blanco Romasanta, the most famous lobishome (werewolf) in the Galician folklore. And hunting trips during his youth, before those lands were so civilized and full of people. About things he heard or saw when he was a young man, hunting in the woods with my grandmother's father, who was hunter of profession. Tales about the San Domedio Range Lobishome, and how he preyed in the poor and weak after the Civil War, when the people barely had anything to eat, so inexperienced boys went hunting into the woods and the mountains looking for game to feed their families, never to return.   
And it worked. It scared me even more. For a time I believed my dog and I were attacked by a werewolf. But time passed. When I was 16 years old I became more skeptical about it. Back then, I was already into mythology and cryptozoology. And I had travelled a bit. We no longer lived in the small village near my grandpa's house. In fact, we moved a lot during those years due to my father's job, living in different places of Galicia and Spain. Big cities and small towns.  But I regularly came back to my grandfather's house to see the family and Breogán, whom we cannot take with us so he stayed with my grandpa. As I said, a lot of my uncles are hunters, and my grandpa used to be one. About that time I went hunting with them a few times. It's not exactly my thing, although I used to dream about that when I was a kid. I guess it's simply a divergence of opinion. I don't like how they hunt, but I think I would like how my grandpa used to hunt. Minus the angry werewolf part.

And so, the years passed. And here I am. I am twenty five years old now, and my poor Breogán died of old age some years ago. I was born a country kid, and I became a city boy. More or less. I live in one of the main Galician cities, in a small apartment with my girlfriend and my cat. I'm studying in the local University and until Christmas I was working as a DJ and bartender in a pub. Then I lost my job. And though I'm in the middle of exams right now, and should have been using the Christmas to study, I started to wonder again about that night. And the animal that attacked us and left poor Breogán all bloodied. In all these years, a lot of hypothesis crossed my mind. For a time, when a was a kid, and influenced by my grandpa's stories, I thought it to be a lobishome. Later, when I grew up a little bit and started to read about feline sightings in the English moors, I believed it to be some kind of big cat. Maybe a lynx (Lince), even if the only ones that live in Spain are in the South. Here in Galicia we have wild cats, but they are not much bigger than domestic ones. And they have spotted furs. And our attacker was dark colored. I started to think it may have been some kind of panther, because when I was 13 and lived in a city called Ourense, a black panther was captured in a forest nearby. It was said that it may have escaped a circus. But I realized that if it had been a panther, my dog probably wouldn't have survived or his injuries would have been more serious. So as I grew up a little more, I started focusing my hypothesis in wild dogs. The mount Picaraña had many caves, some rumored to be the exits of secret underground passages from the nearby castle in Villasobroso, used by the nobility during the War of Succession with the Kingdom of Castilla in the Middle Ages.  It is known in the area that wild dog packs live there, and sometimes attack livestock. Farmers usually blame the wolves, because the Government pays them the loses if they are caused by a protected species, but everyone knows the real culprit are the dogs. They are aggressive and dangerous. I know it first hand. I had an unpleasant encounter with a small group of them a few years back. But that is another story.

Anyway. I was never sure of what was our attacker. And even I live in the city now, a few years ago I started hiking and enjoying nature again. My girlfriend's family lives in the frontier between Galicia and Asturias. The fauna there is richer and more varied. The forests are bigger and darker. The mountains are higher. And they even have the occasional bear that comes down from the mountains. My girl's family are farmers. They live in a place where there are only a few other farms. They have three horses, some chickens, some pigs and a small flock of sheeps. And being a wild land, they also have five big german shepherds. One of them, a female named Dama, reminds me a lot of Breogán. And when we are there visiting I use to take walks into the surrounding forest with the faithful Dama by my side, or ride the horses up through the mountain paths. My father in-law used to be a hunter too, and has also great stories to tell about those lands.

And as I said before, with my return to nature and my recent unemployment, the need to know came back. So two weeks ago, I went back to my old grandfather's house, to visit my uncle. My grandpa died five years ago, and since then, my uncle lives in the house. But during the winter, due to the bad state of the house, he usually lives in the village nearby, with my mom. My mother moved back there three years ago, when she divorced my father. So I paid them a visit and told them I wanted to spent the weekend in grandpa's house, if that was ok with them. They gave me the keys and told me where they were storing the firewood now and a new trick to make the shower work. So I drove there. The house was cold, and humid. Lifeless. I haven't been there in two years. But it had a certain vibe around her that told me it was still home. I lit the fireplace, cleaned up a bit, cook some caldo for dinner (a typical Galician dish, a broth with beans, different types of meat, potatoes and cabbage, that keeps you warm and strong in the winter, if you give credit to old wives tales) and prepared the next day trip. I had with me my grandfather's favorite smoking pipe, which he gave me for my nineteen birthday. So I smoked some of his preferred brand of tobacco while I planned my expedition. I was going back to the ruins of that old house were the creature attacked us. I considered what to do. How to proceed. I packed my bag with some food in plastic bags, a can of fabada (beans with pork), fresh water, a bedroll, a compass, two flashlights, batteries, a cord reel, a plastic light raincoat (it had been raining heavily all the winter and it still is), a little first aid kit, toilet paper, matches, a lighter, a pocketknife, and my cuchillo de monte (A hunting knife, similar to a Bowie, made in one piece of solid spanish steel with a handle made in oak wood) . I thought about packing a tent, but the place was around 5km away from the house and I wasn't counting on sleeping. I just wanted to find the animal, and go home. I knew that wasn't much of a plan. It had been fifteen years since the attack, and the animal probably was dead or long gone. But I had to go. I needed to go. It probably had something to do with my depression about losing my job. I don't know. So there I was. I thought later about packing a camera, but I don't have one. Except for the one in my cell phone. And I didn't need it in the end. But I'm planning on buying one as soon as I have the money for it.

Anyway. After packing my things, I thought about carrying a weapon, besides my knife. There are some shotguns and a couple of rifles in the house. One was my grandpa's, but they all belong to my uncle now. But the laws about owning and carrying guns (or any kind of weapon) in Spain are strict. I don't have a license for it, or for hunting. I know how to load and shoot a shotgun, or a rifle, but that's it. I went hunting only a couple of times in my life. So I decided not to bring one with me. Then I considered taking my old bow, that was there too. But I realized I was acting a little paranoid and beginning to be afraid again. And I wanted to think there was a rational explanation for the animal that attacked us. Getting scared of a shadow and start firing arrows in the dark sounded as dangerous  to me as shooting deer rounds. And you need a license to carry a bow too, and mine expired ages ago. So I decided to carry a staff instead. I have a staff I made years ago with a laurel branch (I think the name of the tree is the same in English and spanish. In Galician is Loureiro) that I use as a cane when I go hiking. So I decided I would carry it. With a good cane and a knife you can defend yourself from anything these woods throw at you. Except the xabaríns, but as I said earlier, the best defense is leaving them alone unless you have a big gun.  

So, I tried to get some sleep and the next day I began my trip. With my backpack, my knife and my cane, I entered the woods again. It took me a while to find the path to the old ruined house. Partly because the forest had changed a bit over the years, partly because I was looking for tracks, prints and wildlife along the way. The forest was really alive. I could hear a lot of birds in the trees around me. And looking closely and walking silently I stared to see some small animals too. I am not a hunter, as I said, or an expert tracker. But I generally can tell which prints belong to what animal. And there were mostly tracks of wild boars and some foxes is the humid ground. A few of them were those of a corzo (A species of deer). And there were one particular print that caught my attention. I didn't recognized it, but it seemed kind of familiar. It wasn't big, neither small. The size of those of a regular dog, more or less. It had five fingers, and the marks of really long nails for a print that size. The discovery made me feel strange. I had seen those prints before. I just didn't know where or when. But certainly not in that forest. Not even the night of the attack. Those prints were something new. Something different from the usual of that forest. And if I didn't saw them the night of the attack it may have been because I was not looking for them, and it was at night. I started to feel eager with the discovery. The markings of those claws in the dirt brought to my mind the deep cuts in my dog's neck and chest. That may be it. That may be a track of the creature.
After the discovery, I tried to follow the tracks, but I lost them. So I keep walking towards the ruined house. I took me about two more hours to reach it. Once there, I set up camp and inspected the area. I was looking for more prints or any other sign of the presence of a strange animal. I found a few fox lairs, markings on the ground and the lower part of the tree trunks made by xabaríns looking for food.  The usual things. Nothing out of the ordinary. So I kept looking. And like that I spent most of the day. When the night fell, I returned to the ruined house and wrapped myself in the bed roll. The night was cold. The temperature had fell almost 10 ºC, as it usually happens around here in the winter. I began hearing some of the nocturne fauna moving around. The scream of the foxes. The owls. Something that sounded like some boars digging in the dirt in the woods behind the house. And something that worried me a little more. A howl. Deep, loud and sad. It went on for about ten or fifteen seconds, and then other responded. It sounded far up in the mountains. But not as far as I would liked. It sounded beautiful, yes. And I love to hear the wolves howl when I'm in front of the fireplace with a pipe and a glass of augardente (A Galician strong distilled spirit). But back in the woods, at night, armed only with a cane and a knife, in the very place where I had such a dramatic encounter when I was a kid with an unidentified beast, it scared the **** out of me. All the stories my grandfather used to tell me about Romasanta, and the San Domedio Lobishome, and many other strange tales came to my mind. And just like that, I started calling myself an idiot for not bringing a shotgun because now I was sitting in the middle of the forest unarmed waiting for the local legendary werewolf to get hungry. My grandpa would have been proud, no doubt. I was terrified. I had my knife in my hand, and I couldn't even remember taking it out of the sheath. I was shaking like a leaf, wondering what to do, when it started raining without a warning, like it usually happens here. That was too much for me for that night. I packed as fast as I could, put on the raincoat and began the walk towards my grandpa's house. I had been walking with the cane in one hand, a flashlight in the other and the knife loose on the sheath secured to my belt, for about an hour. During that time I heard all kind of noises around me, and the occasional wolf howl far away. I was walking so fast that I almost sink my foot into a hole in the ground. At first I thought it was another fox lair, but there was something odd about it. It was different somehow. The shape was strange. And there were some strange markings on the entrance. Claw markings. And something more. Prints. Lots them. With five fingers and long nails, partially erased by the rain. I thought about staying and searching around, but the rain and the fear were stronger than me. I tried to remember the place, and headed home, making markings on the trees with my knife to make easy the return to the lair during daylight.

That night I barely slept. The fear of the mythical creature fade away as reason came back. And then I felt just stupid. Stupid for running away like a coward when I had been before in those woods at night. Having a dog with me, true, but also being a little kid. Stupid for not bringing a gun, if I was so easily scared. Stupid for leaving the investigation when I was so close. But the night in wake had bring light to my thoughts. I had a sudden idea. I knew what it was. I knew what the animal that attacked us was. I had never thought of it, because they were supposed to be extinct in that part of Galicia. Hunted to extinction. But they are common in other places. I even saw their footprints a few times in the forest near my in-laws house.

That afternoon I went back to the woods. No bedroll or cane this time. Just he backpack with a few supplies, the knife and a shotgun. This time I wasn't going to run away if my canine neighbor's howling awakened the terror of a legendary beast into my superstitious mind.
I reached the lair about dusk. And I waited. All kind of noises filled the night. Included the wolves up in the mountains. And then I saw it. My mystery animal. My unknown attacker. About the height of a small dog, but larger and much wider. With black and grey fur, and some white stripes on his head. And paws with long claws and five fingers. A Teixugo. Also known as Porco Teixo ou Porquello. Meles Meles. A badger. An European Badger. A regular, perfectly natural, wild animal. No monster. No legendary creature. Just an animal partially saw in the dark, in a moment of fear and stress, in a place where it wasn't supposed to be. That was it. My childhood terror, and teenage obsession. Just a regular old badger. And it was all over.

After that, I left the poor thing attending to his business and returned to the house. The next day I left. I haven't told this to anyone yet. It's obvious that the badger I saw wasn't the same that attacked my dog, which means there is a colony of them in that forest. They are supposed to be extinct because people here hates them. They hate them even as much as they hate the wolves. And in a culture where our word for Wolf also means Devil, that's saying a lot. People hunt the badgers for fun. I heard stories of how they hunted them with traps and beat them to death with clubs, or remove their claws and made them fight with dogs. I don't think I'm going to tell what I know to my compatriots. But I needed to tell the story. So there it is. It is true that in the parts of Galicia were the badgers are known to live, they are protected. But still, I think they are safer if they remain extinct at the eyes of the everyday club-wielding Galician hick.

Thank you for reading my story. I know it's long. But I needed it to be. I needed to tell and let all this be over. For good.

Thank you.

An unemployed Galician man who just found some peace.

We'll tell the World that we tried...

#2    Still Waters

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Posted 23 January 2014 - 10:27 PM

I enjoyed that, thank you and welcome to UM :)

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#3    Q-C

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Posted 23 January 2014 - 10:38 PM

Hello!!!

Haven't finished your story yet, but I will. Just had to say, "Porko Bravo", haha love that name!
Beautiful English and interesting story! Still reading, as I prepare supper for the family.

Edited by QuiteContrary, 23 January 2014 - 10:51 PM.

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#4    Q-C

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Posted 24 January 2014 - 12:10 AM

Ha! Great solution to an old mystery. Investigation and clear thinking prevailed.
I was wondering badger too. I've always heard they are vicious. Although I've seen a video of a pet one.
Sounds like a beautiful place.

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#5    SpiritTraveler

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Posted 24 January 2014 - 08:34 AM

I really enjoyed reading your story. You have a way of keeping the reader's interest. Well written. I also thought it might be a badger (as did QuiteContrary) but wasn't sure if your country had them. How nice that you finally solved your puzzle after so long. Most of us never get the chance to do it. I was also happy to read that you didn't kill the badger. I know he hurt your dog but he was only protecting himself as they are extremely territorial. You seem to be an animal and nature lover and are quite comfortable and capable in the wild.

Now, like your grampa, you can tell this story to your kids and grandkids! :tu:

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#6    Galego

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Posted 24 January 2014 - 01:55 PM

Thanks. To all of you.

Still Waters, I'm glad you enjoyed my story, and thank you for the welcome.

QuiteContrary, thank you for what you said about my English. Although I know I make a lot of mistakes. It's been a while since the last time I had to spoke or write in your beautiful language. Badgers might be vicious, yes, but only if provoked, as SpiritTraveller said. I'm really happy about how everything turned out to be. And about not letting my superstitions and fears get in the way of a perfectly normal solution for my mystery. Porco Bravo literally means Wild Pig in Galician, by the way.

Thank you for your kind words, SpiritTraveller. I'm glad you enjoyed my story. And about the badger, the answer was kind of obvious, as QuiteContrary and yourself said. I'm surprised I've never thought of it in all this years. I guess my memory, my fear and the local legends played a trick on my reason. And about killing the badger, I had no need for such a thing. I don't think it was the same one that attacked my dog. But even if it was, it is an animal protecting himself and his territory. Can't hardly blame him for that. Also, it's not a big threat to humans. If I had a weapon the day of the attack, and asuming I wasn't too scared to act, I probably had tried to defend myself and my dog. But killing him after that would have been just pointless. It would serve no one, and it would made me a poacher.

As I said, thanks to all of you.

We'll tell the World that we tried...

#7    SpiritTraveler

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Posted 25 January 2014 - 12:53 AM

View PostGalego, on 24 January 2014 - 01:55 PM, said:

Thanks. To all of you.

Still Waters, I'm glad you enjoyed my story, and thank you for the welcome.

QuiteContrary, thank you for what you said about my English. Although I know I make a lot of mistakes. It's been a while since the last time I had to spoke or write in your beautiful language. Badgers might be vicious, yes, but only if provoked, as SpiritTraveller said. I'm really happy about how everything turned out to be. And about not letting my superstitions and fears get in the way of a perfectly normal solution for my mystery. Porco Bravo literally means Wild Pig in Galician, by the way.

Thank you for your kind words, SpiritTraveller. I'm glad you enjoyed my story. And about the badger, the answer was kind of obvious, as QuiteContrary and yourself said. I'm surprised I've never thought of it in all this years. I guess my memory, my fear and the local legends played a trick on my reason. And about killing the badger, I had no need for such a thing. I don't think it was the same one that attacked my dog. But even if it was, it is an animal protecting himself and his territory. Can't hardly blame him for that. Also, it's not a big threat to humans. If I had a weapon the day of the attack, and asuming I wasn't too scared to act, I probably had tried to defend myself and my dog. But killing him after that would have been just pointless. It would serve no one, and it would made me a poacher.

As I said, thanks to all of you.

You are very welcome Galego!

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#8    Sakari

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Posted 25 January 2014 - 04:31 AM

Galego,

First welcome to UM.

Second, when I see posts that long, I usually make it to the second paragraph. About 2/3rds of the way through I was starting to think you were making it all up. Although, it sounded like you know about the wildlife, and the woods. ( wish I could go there ).

Long story short, I read the entire thing, and I think this is one of the ( if not the ) top posts ever on this site.

Thanks for sharing.

Also, I was thinking badger at first, but not sure of the wildlife there. But, as I said, I was expecting a " I found a werewolf " ending, and thinking I was going to have to rip you a new one in a reply.

Excellent, excellent, post.......

Now, look at my signature, and check the link. :)



edit to add : I was intrigued by the " Wolves " in your post. I would not consider myself an expert, but I am very knowledgeable on Wolves, and love to read, and inform people on how they really are. People are so mis-informed. I am glad you mentioned how they are timid, and I am glad they are protected there. The Government here also pays for any lost livestock here, but idiots still allow the killing of Wolves.

Edited by Sakari, 25 January 2014 - 04:43 AM.

Our Wolf's Memorial Page

http://petsupports.com/a04/sakari.htm


#9    third_eye

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Posted 25 January 2014 - 10:02 AM

Hola ! and welcome Galego !


~

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third_eye ' s cavern ~ bring own beer

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#10    JCB

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Posted 25 January 2014 - 10:20 AM

i also enjoyed that story :tu:


#11    Lilly

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Posted 25 January 2014 - 12:13 PM

Galego, you are a gifted writer. You may be unemployed at the moment but you are most certainly an author. Might I suggest you pursue your talent as it is remarkable.

Oh, and welcome to UM!

"Ignorance is ignorance. It is a state of mind, not an opinion." ~MID~

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#12    Galego

Galego

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  • "In this times of crisis, certainties and dogmas, what would be of us without metaphors and vices?"

    Manuel VŠquez MontalbŠn

Posted 25 January 2014 - 06:59 PM

Wow. I don't know what to say. All of you are really kind, and you have my thanks.

Thank you for your welcome, thrird_eye, and ¡Hola!

I'm glad you enjoyed my story JCB.

Lilly, I'm not gifted. I'm just kind of competent. But I do a little writting. I've published a few short stories and poems in some local magazines. But always in Spanish or Galician. I have never written something similar in English till I decided to tell my story here. I thank you enormously for your kindness. Your words give me hope. And right now I need it, as things are not going well in my life, loosing the job and all. You have my thanks.

And Sakari... I don't know how to begin, or where. First of all. I understand you doubted of my story, thinking I was making it up and going for the "Werewolf theory". And that is partly my fault. I said at the begining my encounter wasn't supernatural, but the way I told it was written to make the reader thought it was. I wanted the reader to feel the same incertitude, curiosity and fear I felt. I wanted to tell my tale because I needed to. But also because I think is a good story to be told. And I wanted to do it right. We Galicians love a good story. And the people who know how to tell one are highly valued in our culture. That has vantages and disadvantages, of course. But is our way. And I love to write. And as I said, I've been raised listening to all kind of legends, specially werewolf related ones. That is my education, and is in my subconscious mind, even if I don't believe in them. In a situation of stress, uneasiness and fear, my mind goes primal and throws reason off the window. And the ancient fear of the Big Bad Lobishome that lurks on the mountains comes back. I wanted you to understand that. To feel that. And that lead us to the second point. The wolves. Galician culture has always been close to the wolves, but in a bad way. The wolf here is seen as the enemy. This comes from the ancient times, when they were man's only real competition in these lands. Our mythology blames them for every bad thing that happens. They are considered to be evil. Even the word Xau, that is one of our words for them, is also one of the names of the Devil in our language. All of this, of course, is false, as you know. galicians had always been unfair and cruel with the wolves. Is one of the things that made me sad about our culture.  If want to know something about the wolf in our culture, or real facts about the Iberian Wolf (Canis Lupus Signatus), send me a message and I will answer to the best of my knowledge.

I'm really flattered about what you said about my post. I'm glad I shared my story. Thank all of you for reading it. And Sakari, I checked the link of your signature. Your Sakari was really adorable, beautiful and intelligent. Your are really lucky for having her with you. I envy you. I lit a candle in her memory.

And about the forests and landscapes of my land, I will try to post some pictures of it one of these days.

I thank you all so much for reading and posting... I'm really grateful.

We'll tell the World that we tried...

#13    Sakari

Sakari

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Posted 25 January 2014 - 07:03 PM

View PostGalego, on 25 January 2014 - 06:59 PM, said:

. I lit a candle in her memory.

:tu:



P.S.

I was trying to say you did exactly what you wanted in your writing. It was AWESOME!

Edited by Sakari, 25 January 2014 - 07:05 PM.

Our Wolf's Memorial Page

http://petsupports.com/a04/sakari.htm


#14    Red Moon

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Posted 26 January 2014 - 05:12 AM

Hi and welcome to UM :st

I really enjoyed your post and that was a very exciting read. Your writing is lovely.

Being tough is the new square.

#15    SSilhouette

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Posted 26 January 2014 - 08:31 AM

View PostLilly, on 25 January 2014 - 12:13 PM, said:

Galego, you are a gifted writer. You may be unemployed at the moment but you are most certainly an author. Might I suggest you pursue your talent as it is remarkable.

Oh, and welcome to UM!

Those were my exact thoughts Lilly!  Galego, you should write.  Your narrative flows easily, is personal, deep, three dimensional with details that don't bore people.  You painted a picture with words and it is as if I was there with you on your journey from fear to the unexpected but equally "paranormal" ending and your personal triumph.  So nice.  Thanks.





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