Free The Beast of Barcroft by Bill Schweigart

nasty prehistoric mammal the size of a horse, that didn’t get the memo that it was extinct. There are even more outlandish, supernatural theories involving a demon. And, of course, a werewolf. The point is, no one can be entirely
certain,
and that’s why these deaths are not known as ‘the Well-Documented and Empirically Proven French Wolf Attacks of the 1760s.’ It has become known as ‘the Beast of Gévaudan.’ It’s a legend. But make no mistake, it’s a legend that most definitely occurred.
    “You see, that’s what cryptozoology is all about. From the Greek
kryptos,
meaning ‘hidden,’ and
zoology,
the ‘study of animals.’ ” He spread his arms, gesturing at the assemblage. “I would never pretend to be a scientist or presume to tell you your business, but just as
UFO
means unidentified flying object and
not
alien spacecraft, cryptids are not always Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. Cryptids are simply animals that haven’t been discovered yet…”
    He gestured to the screen, which displayed a bright green lizard with golden flecks.
    “Like the
Varanus bitatawa
here, the golden spotted monitor, recently discovered in the Philippines. A six-foot lizard, already well known to locals, but just discovered by scientists.”
    The screen flashed to a black-and-white photo of a fisherman holding aloft a prehistoric fish.
    “Cryptids can be animals that have made a reappearance, like the coelacanth here, rediscovered in 1938 off the coast of South Africa when an ordinary angler caught it.”
    A mountain lion superimposed on a map of the northern United States appeared.
    “Cryptids can be animals way outside of their normal range. Like the unfortunate mountain lion from North Dakota who went on a walkabout only to get struck and killed by a car…in Connecticut.”
    He looked at Lindsay and raised an eyebrow.
    She smirked.
    “Cryptids live where the unreal meets the real. Where science shines a light into the dark corners of legend. Where folklore becomes fact. You want to know what I think the Beast of Gévaudan truly was?
I don’t care
. Sure, part of me desperately wants to know its true identity, but a larger part of me, the more romantic part, desperately does not. Our civilization has the ability to explore the deepest ocean trenches now. We can travel to the stars and back. With our ever-evolving technology, pushing farther and farther toward our frontiers is becoming easier and easier. And as we do, we will continue to have a rash of discoveries. Until we won’t. They’ll slow to a trickle, then dry up completely. Every legend will have been classified and categorized, demystified and defanged. The best we’ll be able to hope for…is a zoo.”
    The crowd groaned. He held up his hands. “Cheap shot, sorry. We share the same mission. Conservancy. But I’m an amateur. A dilettante. Hell, other cryptozoologists don’t even like me, but I ask you this: What brought you into this business? What sparked your imagination as a child? Did you hide under the covers as a kid, flashlight in hand, reading about the ‘leadership of winter mixed-species flocks’ in the
International Journal of Zoology
? Or was it closer to this?”
    The next slide was a painting of an enormous squid attacking a barque, its gigantic eyes staring wide, its tentacles curling around the masts up to the topsails.
    “I’m not preaching ignorance here.”
    Next, a picture of another giant squid wrapped around Jules Verne’s
Nautilus
.
    “It’s your business to know everything, and Lord knows, I support it.”
    A black-and-white photograph of a group of men standing on a beach, surrounding the remains of a giant squid. Its mantle was the size of a man.
    “I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but in our relentless drive forward, I’m saying sometimes a little mystery, a little romance, is good. It may just inspire the next great conservationist. Or at the very least, the next amateur cryptozoologist. For those of you