Dubious Tales From the Colorado Plains
An Investigation of Two Unlikely Colorado “Cryptids”…
Every once in a while in this newsletter, I like to take a look at some of the more dubious stories of the weird, the strange, and the paranormal.
I think there’s something healthy in doing this; after all, we know that the fields of ufology, cryptozoology, and the paranormal have attracted more than their fair share of cranks, grifters, con-artists, and tall-tale tellers. Of course, sometimes there’s nothing really sinister about it—there are, after all, the earnest but deluded, the sincere but simply mistaken.
And then there are the hoaxers and pranksters. These folks like to spin an outlandish yarn just for the sheer hell of it, or maybe to gin up some publicity or achieve their long-sought fifteen minutes of fame.
The American West—whether in the nineteenth century or in more recent years—is home to a healthy strain of outrageous and thoroughly discreditable storytellers. It’s a long tradition, and one that shows not the slightest sign of slowing down anytime soon. And, honestly, I think that’s a good thing; it shows that folks in the Wild West still have a unique, inimitable zest for the finer things in life—things like trying to pull one over on other people with a timely cock-and-bull story that absolutely no one in their right mind would credit in a thousand years.
Wherefore, I give you this week’s article, which includes two such tales—one from the Old West and one from the New.
The Mustachioed Monster of Wild Horse, Colorado
One of my favorite tall tales of the Old West comes courtesy of the Daily Press, of Newport News, Va., in a short item dated Saturday, May 13, 1905.
The story claims to have been written by the Buena Vista correspondent of the Denver Times, and describes what can only be a very curious cryptid living in the hills near Wild Horse, Colorado, a tiny and remote town that is literally in the middle of nowhere, located on the vast expanse of the Great Plains in eastern Colorado.
Wild Horse began life as a cavalry outpost, and in the 1870s it became the site of a railway station, and consequently saw its fortunes and its population burgeon. By 1905, when our story takes place, the town had reached the zenith of its brief heyday, and—following a devastating fire—it has since dwindled pitiably, until it is now little more than a plains ghost town with a post office.
Nevertheless, if we are to believe the story, it was once the haunt of a creature that bears no resemblance to any other in North America, nor indeed in the world—still less the fossil record. It’s worth quoting the news item in full:
“A strange animal roaming the hills in the vicinity of Wildhorse [sic], a station on the Colorado Midland Railway, two miles west of this city, has been seen a number of times by various people and has been described differently by each one.
The most startling of all, however, was the experience of a prominent ranchwoman last evening. She was driving slowly along the road across the Arkansas river, from where the animal has its lair, when her horse suddenly shied, almost throwing her from the rig. She was horrified to see, a few feet ahead of her and in the middle of the road, the monstrosity.
It was about the size and build of a full-grown greyhound and of a drab color, its glistening sides being covered with black spots as large as silver dollars. It had a long, smooth tail and the lady declares it had an almost human face and was evidently of a male gender, as a bristling red mustache ornamented the proper place upon its physiognomy. The eyes were close together and deep set and its ears stood erect and were very pointed. After a moment it uttered a piteous cry and slunk away through the brush, turning at the top of the hill for a last look. It stood erect on its hind feet, punctured the rarefied atmosphere with sounds that reverberated among the crags and compelled a pace on the part of the usually staid horse that was a revelation to the driver. A number of hunting parties have tried in vain to kill this animal and efforts are now being made to capture it alive.”
As is often the case with these stories, there is no further word as to whether the hunting party either killed or captured alive this strange, mustachioed cryptid with the mournful cry. It’s also worth pointing out that the country around Wild Horse, Colorado, is quite flat, with little nearby in the way of hills or “crags,” and—for the record—is nowhere near the Arkansas River.
The La Junta Elf
In early June, 2019, a clip from a security video made the rounds on Facebook, and appeared to show a bizarre, “elf-like” being with gangly limbs and a seemingly inhuman gait walk in front of a house and prance down the driveway.
The video was posted by Vivian Gomez of La Junta, Colorado—a much more notable plains metropolis that actually is located on the Arkansas River—and quickly became a viral sensation, racking up over fourteen million views. In the original Facebook post, she wrote:
“So I woke up Sunday morning and saw this on my camera and am trying to figure out…what the heck?? First I saw the shadow walking from my front door then I saw this thing….has anyone else seen this on their cameras?? The other two cameras didn’t pick it up for some reason.”
The mysterious “creature” shown in the video was likened in appearance to “Dobby the House Elf” from the Harry Potter series of books and films, and it was quickly dubbed “the La Junta Elf” or “the La Junta Goblin.”
There was some talk that the security camera had captured incontrovertible evidence of an otherworldly space visitor, one with a decidedly strange and awkward ambulation; or, perhaps, it was truly an unknown elf- or goblin-like denizen of the plains of eastern Colorado.
Others, however, sensibly chalked the whole thing up to Vivian’s nine-year-old son, Bobby Gomez, whom even his mother described as a mischievous sort who “likes to play around and joke around and likes to dance.” In other words, the La Junta Elf is merely a nine-year-old prankster who decided to prance around weirdly in front of his mom’s security camera while wearing underpants on his hand.
But Bobby Gomez, for his part, isn’t copping to anything.
“It’s possible aliens could be alive,” he told reporter Courtney Fromm from local station Fox 21. “No one knows.”
Wise words from a sage nine year old.
Or, as one individual commented under a YouTube video about the La Junta Elf: “It’s literally Dobby, with underpants on his head, doing the chicken dance after receiving the underwear—hence free from the command of the Karen.”
Verdict: In both of these instances of “cryptids” on the Colorado plains, I think it’s safe to say that they belong to the realm of those things which are not.
In the matter of the Mustachioed Monster of Wild Horse, we have what is more likely than not another instance of myth-making by some bored newspaper copyeditor—as much a problem in nineteenth-century as in twenty-first-century America. The creature, as described, is plainly ridiculous, and there are numerous evidences of geographical inaccuracies that plainly bespeak an unfamiliarity with the actual setting of the story.
And as for the La Junta Elf—well, that is plainly the work of little Bobby Gomez, notorious prankster and big Harry Potter fan.
The lesson here is an important one: although the American West is certainly home to many strange and inexplicable phenomena, it’s important to remain vigilant and discerning. Sometimes, a story is just a story—nothing more than the product of an overactive imagination.