Free THE BEAST OF BOGGY CREEK: The True Story of the Fouke Monster by Lyle Blackburn

late nineteenth century by a family of settlers bearing the Jones surname. Many of their descendents still live there today, some of which have given me insights into the monster’s tale. The community itself is not much larger than it was back in the early 1900s, and it still enjoys a low profile setting amid the rich Sulphur River Bottoms. The borders of the community fit roughly between Boggy Creek on the north, Highway 71 to the east, and the Sulphur River to the southwest. Just a few miles to the west sits the magnificent Sulphur River State Wildlife Management Area while Mercer Bayou spreads out just beyond the Sulphur River to the south. All in all, Jonesville has a bay window view of some of the state’s most remote and inhospitable swamplands. When the rivers flood, all sorts of game are forced to expand their territory to avoid the mucky wallows. It’s times like these when the residents of Jonesville watch closely for any strange figures lurking in their backwoods.
    Taking a short jog south on the old U.S. 71, Jonesville arrives without fanfare. In fact, it is easy to pass right on by if you don’t know where you are going. There’s only one road in and one road out of Jonesville. This main thoroughfare is marked by a stark white church sign, and other than a few dirt driveways that disappear behind the trees, there’s not much else to announce its presence. Turning down the road and heading into Jonesville, all semblance of highway is immediately lost. The modern world seems to disappear in the rearview mirror like some strange Twilight Zone episode. The roads here are crudely paved and without curbs, as you would expect from old country roads. The small ditch that slopes off each side of the road is quickly met with wire fencing, trees, and brush, lining both sides like a natural wall. You can’t see the houses that dot the countryside. You know they are there because of tell-tale driveways winding behind the trees, but it’s hard to make out any real details even in daylight. The foliage is thick, especially when summer is in full bloom. And if it’s hard to see a house, imagine how hard it is to see a dark hair-covered creature that may prefer to watch you instead of letting its presence be known. Driving in the area always makes me realize how easy it would be to hide in the dense underbrush just out of sight.
    As the evening sun continues to slip down behind the treeline, a spooky calm starts to set in. The sun’s errant rays still break through the dense forestry here and there, as shadows begin to form pockets of dusky darkness all around. In many places the trees are so thick they envelop the road in a complete canopy. Rounding a corner and proceeding down an incline into these long black tunnels is like driving into the great maw of an enormous beast. It’s definitely a creepy place, where the imaginations of passersby and tourists could certainly run wild. Maybe they could mistake the shadowy figure of a distant hunter for that of a hairy monster, or believe a bear to be a bipedal manimal. But it was not tourists or city folks who originally encountered the legendary beast of Boggy Creek; it was the locals, the people who have lived here all their life. These people do not paint the dark woods with fancy metaphors or pay heed to gaping maws of canopy trees. These country folks know well the wildlife of the area and regard this place as their home, not a spooky place of legend. They have little time for nonsense as they carve out an existence in the often inhospitable setting. So when the people of Jonesville first began to speak of a strange ape-like animal that was haunting their land, it might have done us well to listen.
     

    The original settlers of Jonesville, circa 1895.
Seated L to R: Mrs. Bose Jones (holding Isadore), Mr. Bose Jones.
Standing: Albert “Bank”, Mary Jones Grandberry Davis, Ed,
Epsie Jones Harris, Commadore.
(Courtesy of the Miller County Historical