August 15, 2020

Let's Not Forget Maine's Mystery Beast

It was only two weeks ago and we can’t forget the Mystery Beast. You can find my previous stories here, here, here and here.

In the meantime, remember the Lewiston Sun-Journal that jumped all over this story? They confiscated one of the beast’s feet. They have sent it on to a lab in Toronto, Canada – HealthGene Corp.

They say DNA test results should be completed sometime next week. One can only hope that to keep the mystery alive, no real determination will be made. (Insert evil hissing here).

Tom Remington


Continuing Coverage of the Mystery Beast

*Scroll for Updates*
*Update 1:30 pm*
The Bangor Daily News has more on the mystery beast found near Turner, Maine over the weekend. I particulary enjoyed the statement made by an observer.

One person who posted comments about the mystery animal in a blog had her own theory: perhaps the animal that was killed in Turner over the weekend died as a result of a run-in with the real mystery creature, which still remains a phantom.

Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is how to keep a good story thriving.

Tom Remington

*Update 1:30 pm*

I have been reading different accounts of this story. There are two stories in the Bangor Daily news here and here. I can’t believe there are people out there who want to kill such an entertaining story (for those of you who might not suspect anything here, I’m kidding. Go with me on this.).

I have received comments here and at the Maine Hunting Forums where I also posted the picture. Some just want to pass it off as a dog and another mourns the loss of life.

Come on people. We live in the same state as Stephen King. What better place than to find a creature of unknown origin that’s black to boot. I still have yet to find a better comment than the one saying that maybe the real mystery beast chased this thing, whatever it is, into the road and the Mystery Beast lives on. Now that makes a much more interesting story. Don’t you think?

Just think. It appears that no real definative answers will be learned therefore the stories can continue. The howls at night will still be heard. The strange looking creature spotted only in glimpses here and there will live on, yes, yes, YES!

Okay, I’m a little over the top on this one but there are a lot of people out they starving for closure on this mystery beast thing. Even the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife wouldn’t play along. According to one article in the Bangor Daily News, a game warden in Poland was a real party pooper.

The neighbors who found the animal called a Maine game warden who told them he could not drive from Poland to Turner to inspect the remains. The warden told them it was probably a coyote and told them to research it online. They were advised to call Central Maine Power Co. to haul the carcass away, since it was found near the power lines.

What a downer. Call CMP and haul the carcass away? No fun at all. I think someone should take the photos available and enter into a few quiet hours of Photoshop time and really spice this story up. Let’s put Maine on the map and get all sorts of stories and rumors flying about.

I’ll get you started. One night when I was visiting my son in Bangor, we went for a walk by Stephen King’s house and I know I saw something that could very well have been a mystery beast……….to be continued.

Tom Remington


Killed In Maine But What Is It?

Fox News carries the story of the mystery beast, the one of legend in central Maine that sends shivers up your spine like Stephen King novels. Here’s a picture but the story and discriptions given by eyewitnesses sure does the story more justice.

The Scary Beast of Maine

Tom Remington


Big Buck Tracking School With the Benoits

Most of you probably know this past spring I traveled to Allagash, Maine for a weekend of fun and adventure with the Benoit brothers of Vermont. I’m sure most of you at least have heard of the Benoits, if not, you can visit their website and find out for yourselves.

I am working on a story about the school and hope this will be ready soon. Good things take time right? In explanation, Lanny Benoit asked that I submit a draft of what I would right to make sure it was accurate. This of course takes time.

There were many things that went on over the weekend from learning about the operation of GPS, to target shooting, learning about the actions and reactions of deer and hunters, eating good food and sharing a lot of tales – all of which I’m sure are the truth.

One afternoon we all piled into vehicles and headed for the top of a nearby mountain. Our search was to find a big buck’s track. Tracks were far and few between but not for the reasons you might think. The ground had dried hard and in most places is was almost like concrete.

What I did discover right from the onset is the boys like to talk about deer hunting. I’ve provided a video I put together while we were on top of the mountain. I got a small clip of Lanny and Lane talking about their hunting experiences. I have other videos I will share later as well. (If you would like to download a better quality video, click here and view it with you own media player.)

Tom Remington


Bruno The Bavarian Brown Bear's Brother Bent On Becoming…Er, Uh, Dead?

Do you recall the story we covered a few weeks ago about Bruno the Italian-born brown bear who became tired of his surroundings and began a migration north into Germany? End result for Bruno was a short life in Deutscheland.

It seems that Bruno has a brother. Indications are he came from the same litter and his brother, no name given at this time, is also heading north. Will Germany once again kill another bear crossing the border? Will this new bear have a catchy name? Will the world watch as the yet unnamed bear crosses into Germany. This and many more questions will be answered in the next episode of “As The Bear Moves North”. Stay tuned.

Tom Remington


More Wolf Attacks in Idaho And Minnesota

Scott Richards, who has been sending me information about his hunting dogs he lost in a wolf attack in Idaho, also has sent me a story with pictures of family friends who lost one of their pet “wiener” dogs, as Scott refers to Duke as.

May 21, 2006 Amber was watching her 2 sons and niece play in the pasture below their house. The children had been running back and forth from the house to the pasture passing a small stand of trees each time to get water and toys.

The third time they passed the trees, wolves came out and grabbed their little wiener dog Duke and fled with him in their mouths. Duke was screaming as they carried him away completely out of earshot and probably back to the den. Steve followed the blood trail until the blood ran out and could find nothing but wolf tracks.

The fish and game were called and they sent the federal fish and game 3 days later. He confirmed it was wolves and said there was nothing he could do. They would have to speak to state fish and game, he had 3 other reports to look into that day.

The fish and game office told Amber the wolves would be gone in a few days, they never stay around too long. She had been seeing these same wolves for over a month and when she would call her dogs into the house the wolves would not retreat. They would come closer. She does not let her dogs out to roam any longer.

In Minnesota, an eerily similar story of a family who lost their dachshund named Buddy to a brazen wolf. The wolf came right into the family yard in broad daylight and snatched up the dachshund, trotting away down the road. Attempts by the other larger family dog to stop the wolf produced no reaction at all from the wolf.

You can read this whole story here.

I am reading more and more about these kinds of attacks in areas where the grey wolf is prospering. Some feel as though they are being misled with false and incomplete information about the wolf because of its protected status.

Homeowners, ranchers, hunters, and owners of hunting dogs are getting concerned about this problem and are beginning to speak out to get something done.

Do you have a wolf story? Send it to me and share with the rest or submit it under comments.

Tom Remington


Remember That First Deer?

It is something that all of us remember no matter how long ago it happened. In my book, “The Legend of Grey Ghost and Other Tales From the Maine Woods“, I tell the tale of my first ever deer and how it affected my life from that moment on. It is truely a life changing experience – to what degree, one never knows until it happens.

I was a freshman in high school at the time and too young, small and inexperienced to be on the varsity or junior varsity football team at the local high school. Early November always brought a conflict between the end of football and the start of deer season.

It was a Saturday and the weather was milky sunshine and cold – breath-seeing cold, just the way Maine hunters like it. My father made the plan of attack and being the know-it-all cocky sort of a typical young man, I thought he was nuts but nonetheless, I followed orders.

I headed into the woods and crossed a short bog hole to reach the spot my father had told me to go and wait. It was a good spot to be in for a number of reasons besides the obvious one of that’s where I shot my first deer. What I didn’t know at the time and what my father did know, was this spot was the intersection to take deer everywhere or lead them back to anywhere – if that makes sense.

I looked around for a place to sit. I find that if I stand, I make too many movements. I was stilling poking here and poking there trying to find the perfect spot – you know, the one that is most comfortable, in the sun so you can stay warm and above all else, a place to rest your back against. That’s when I heard something.

I mean to tell you I was completely unprepared for deer hunting. My mind wasn’t even on any prospect of deer because my father had put me out of his way so I wouldn’t bother him – or so I thought.

I turned in the direction of the noise and immediately spotted a fantastic looking 4-point buck coming up out of the bog where I had come in. With steam blasting from is wide open nostrils, he quickly ascended the small ridge I was on. I don’t think the deer ever saw me but just as he crested the rise, he turned to his left a bit and walked away from me headed for who knows where.

I wouldn’t call it buck fever because I don’t think I even managed a slight temperature rise. What I had seen was impressive. The morning sun brightening the forest after a frosty night, seeing the vapor from an early active young buck’s nostrils and witnessing the grace, strength and beauty as he proudly walked away.

I slumped in my stance realizing what I had, or actually hadn’t done. It’s funny how in times like this the mind will think of the oddest things. My mind raced through the countless hours of sitting around the house listening to the retelling of deer story after deer story. Many of these stories were comical, at the expense of the person making the story funny. I knew I was going to be the subject of one of those, “You know what the dumb SOB did?” stories.

God spared me the humiliation! Before I had fallen on the ground overtaken with grief, I looked up in time to see the same young buck, retracing his footsteps. Whatever for? As the deer got to the top of the rise, this was the point I had predetermined would be the best and clearest shot, I took careful aim – right from the hip. That’s right. This time it was buck fever!

I’m not sure what ever possessed me to do that but I did anyway. Maybe it was a subliminal thing. You see the gun I was using was an ancient and ugly stick. It was a 12-gauge, single shot blunder bust that when fired would promptly knock you on your backside. I knew this from watching my brothers shoot it. I was the youngest of four boys and I wasn’t about to take the punishment they had.

Another scary thing with this weapon of individual destruction was, it had a tendency to fall apart. The most often seemed to be while bird hunting. Whenever the gun got raised above the shoulders, the barrel would fall off and land on the ground or hit you in the head even, if raised high enough.

We were dirt poor and that’s what we had, so we hunted with it. We still have that gun somewhere, although I’m not sure which member of the family is in possession.

I had loaded some 00 buckshot in her and was ready for all out war. The shot was deadly accurate but I didn’t know that at the time. When the smoke cleared, the deer was gone and I was ready to be. Ashamed again for failing to successfully shoot my deer, I dejectedly moped around the area looking for blood.

Soon my father arrived and he put everything into perspective for me and we commenced a methodical search. Soon we found the deer – 4 points and 147 pounds. I told you we all remember our first deer.

The lessons I learned that day went right off the charts and from that moment on, hunting has never been the same for me. It was a life changing experience.

Tom Remington