3.16 | Beyond the Beast: The True Legends of the Algonquin Wendigo

Have you ever stood on the precipice of the unknown, questioning whether you should step forward into the chilling embrace of the supernatural or take a step back, keeping your feet firmly planted in the realm of the understood and the mundane? Join us as we journey into the icy heart of the Wendigo, a terrifying entity from Algonquin folklore, whose story is not just a chilling tale but a haunting exploration of the human psyche. Our discussion spans from its chilling portrayals in popular culture, such as Stephen King's Pet Cemetery and the thrilling series Hannibal, to the symbolism it holds in North American storytelling.

This is no ordinary discussion; I share my own spine-chilling encounter with the Wendigo in the Rockies, an experience that forever changed my understanding of the supernatural. This singular encounter, a brush with the raw, wild face of horror, sparked a passion for exploring the unknown that I've carried with me ever since. We tease apart the human capacity for transformation, the line between man and beast, and the terrifying potential for the monstrous within us all.

In our final act, we examine the Wendigo’s physical characteristics, preferred hunting ground, and how its legend has evolved over time. We hear stories of men overtaken by an insatiable hunger, drawing comparisons to legends of werewolves and pondering the nature of human transformation. Throughout, we challenge you to ask yourself: How would I react when faced with the unknown? Are we more beast than we'd care to admit? Join us, share in our exploration of the Wendigo legend, and dare to uncover the mysteries of the universe.

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Transcript

Speaker 1: 0:06

Hey everyone, jeremy Haig here and welcome to another episode of when Walls Can Talk. Before we delve into today's story, I wanted to take a moment to yet again share some love we received from one of our listeners. Lately this review popped up from someone who stumbled upon our podcast in a Facebook forum and I'm very curious as to which one. So if this is you and you're listening, please let me know. I'm very curious where we were being mentioned so I can go thank people they wrote. I've been able to listen to the Titanic and the White House episodes Woosh, so so good, paranormally phenomenal and historically informative. Honestly, the narration and editing are positively well done. First of all, a huge thank you for those kind words. Every episode is just such a passion project for me and I'm over the moon to hear that you're enjoying our blend of history and the paranormal and the unknown. Its feedback like this that just keeps me doing what I love to do and pushes me to delve deeper into the stories and find more places where the past meets the mysterious. And for everyone else, if you enjoy what you hear here on the podcast, please consider leaving me a review, because it might just get featured in an upcoming episode and before we start, I also want to share just almost more from my own memories than anything else. I'm actually recording this episode live from my hotel room at the podcast movement convention 2023 here in Denver, colorado, at the Gaylord Rockies Resort. I will have a YouTube video coming up covering just everything that I went down, everything that I learned, so definitely go check that out. It's been life changing and truly positively inspirational. I mean, just given the fact that I'm recording this episode at 1020 at night from the hotel just speaks to how motivated and just inspired I am by this whole experience and how proud I am that I was selected to be the sponsorship winner for podcast movement this year. Out of many people that applied, only about 40 of us were selected, and I'm just proud and also really grateful for this whole experience and everyone that made that possible. So, on behalf of myself and everybody related to when walls can talk, we just have to say thank you.

Speaker 1: 2:41

Let's get into today's tale. You're in the northern woods alone. The sun, struggling to pierce the canopy, casts an almost spectral glow on the forest floor. Big pines stand tall like the silent sentinels watching your every step as you move deeper into the dappled shadows there's an almost pregnant sense of history, of mysteries that have been whispering amongst the trees for generations. For centuries, tales of an ancient horror have haunted these woods An embodiment of hunger, greed and the cold, unforgiving brutality of winter the Wendigo. But this isn't just a monster story. This is a cautionary tale about the darkest corners of human nature, where the line between man and monster blurs and the gnawing hunger of the soul becomes too strong to ignore. Today, on this episode, we delve into the chilling legend of the Wendigo, uncovering ancient myths and modern encounters, and asking what transforms a man into a monster and are some hungers too powerful to resist?

Speaker 1: 4:08

My personal encounter with this legend was unexpectedly close and profoundly personal, as I moved beyond my past childhood traumas and embarked on a new journey to embrace a gift I had long overlooked from the universe. The expansive beauty of the Rockies sparked a resurgence of psychic and emotional power I had once stifled. In the deep wilderness of the Golden Gate Canyon State Park, I experienced a profound reawakening of my psychic and medium abilities, a moment so monumental it's etched into my memory forever. There, amidst nature's quiet, I encountered a being of ancient energies, an entity I now recognize as the Wendigo. Its towering skeletal presence was both intimidating and captivating, and its eyes seemed to delve deep into my soul. Those enormous bone antlers, like doorways to an ancient realm, stood testament to its power. Yet this sight wasn't with my physical eyes. Instead, it was a vision as clear and vivid as those old school projectors, overlaying reality with an image both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Time seemed to stand still as an unspoken connection formed between this age-old guardian and myself, a communion of understanding, respect and recognition. From this pivotal moment, a passion ignited, a rebirth into a world of mysticism where ancient rituals are revisited, tarot cards weave stories and the line between the seen and unseen becomes tantalizingly thin. Today we merge legend with lived experience, exploring the vast realms of the supernatural and pondering the age-old question when the universe reveals its mysteries, do we confront them or do we run?

Speaker 1: 6:15

I'm Jeremy Haig, and this is when Walls Can Talk. Throughout the ages, man has repeated the same earnest, saying more of a question, really, or perhaps even a plea, if these walls could talk. But what if they do, and always have? Perhaps their stories, memories and messages are all around us. If only we would take the moment to listen. On this podcast, we reinvestigate legends and tales of the past and allow the echoes of their lessons to live on once again, informing us, educating us and sharing new and unique insight into the inner workings of the paranormal and spiritual world. Will you dare to listen? This is when Walls Can Talk the podcast.

Speaker 1: 8:12

In the threads of ancient North American storytelling, be it movies, television or literature. One doesn't have to look far to spot overblown caricatures of Native American and First Nations peoples and a skewed representation of their traditions. But here's the thing that's been gnawing at me this monstrous figure hailing from Algonquin folklore is not just some embodiment of greed and an appetite for human flesh, as many have portrayed it to be. It's far more layered than that. You're flipping through the channels or pages and there it is. Whether it's the eerie narrative of Stephen King's pet cemetery or the chilling episodes of the series Hannibal, you're met with that familiar, horrifying image of the flesh-eating Wendigo. But like so many things, context is crucial. Stripped of its cultural backdrop, where it holds profound moral lessons, it's just another monster to scare audiences. Recently, it took another cinematic turn in Scott Cooper and Guillermo del Toro's Antlers from 2021. Although it features a Native American shedding some light on the tale, the story quickly pivots, centering on a white community facing the terror head-on.

Speaker 1: 9:34

Now, I'm not saying these tales shouldn't be told or reimagined, but shouldn't we pause, if only for a second, to think about what's lost in the retelling? Because when you really dig into the Algonquin stories of the Wendigo, you're peeling back layers of cultural richness of generations, holding onto narratives that instill deep-seated moral values. And perhaps more than anything, the Wendigo story and its continued prevalence in our cultural awareness should be more of a testament to the enduring spirit of indigenous communities who have harnessed the power of storytelling as a means of critical social discourse. I want to take you back way back to a time and place where nature's vastness was only rivaled by its mysteries the dense woods of eastern Canada, home to the Algonquin, a collective of indigenous tribes whose unity spanned centuries and binding them in a grip as cold as winter's chill, was the legend of the Wendigo. This wasn't just a fireside tale to keep kids in line. No, this was something more visceral.

Speaker 1: 10:52

The Wendigo wasn't just a legend, it was a lesson, a symbol of an act so forbidden. It's hard for many of us to even fathom cannibalism, even as famine tightened its grip as tribe members watched their loved ones wither away. The thought of consuming human flesh was beyond understanding. The moral of this haunting tale Better to succumb to nature's harshness, even end your own life, than to transform into such a creature of malevolence. The reach of the Algonquin-speaking tribes was vast, echoing from the dense forests of Virginia to the rugged terrains of the Rocky Mountains. Their language, rich and resonant, bore traces of the Cree still whispered by over a hundred thousand souls in modern-day Canada. And this legend, the Wendigo, well, it wore many faces, many names, sometimes Aachen, sometimes Chinou, quebec and Ontario, regions known for their breathtaking landscapes, distinct cultures and for some remnants of an ancient presence. Today, pockets of the Algonquin tribes find solace in these territories, living echoes of a deep and intricate past. Whispered among these communities are tales of the Wendigo, a haunting presence that some say even now brushes against modernity in the darkest corners of Ontario.

Speaker 1: 12:35

It's hard to separate legend from reality, especially when ancient beliefs collide with contemporary experiences. A long time ago, before the chime of church bells and the influence of French missionaries, the Algonquin people were immersed in the Midwuin, a religion cloaked in secrecy. Its alternate names hint at its true depths. Otherwise known as the Grand Medicine Society or the Way of the Heart. The Midwuin belief system is intricate and profound, a rich mosaic of ideas, some so distinct that English words fall short of truly encapsulating their essence. To those outside the tradition, only fragments of its depths and nuance can truly be understood. Some archaeologists brave souls trying to piece together the fragments of time, wonder if Midwuin rituals were once performed in the places where the Wendigo walked. But as with many ancient tales, hard evidence is a ghost.

Speaker 1: 13:43

The Wendigo story wasn't penned on parchment but passed through lips one to another, a living narrative across Algonquin speaking tribes. Within the Midwuin there's a journey of ascent, not unlike our modern-day academic ladders. But this isn't about grades or diplomas, it's about spiritual mastery, each step taken, every task completed. They weren't just rituals, they're testaments to dedication, marking deep reverence for a tradition older than memory. This is a world where the spiritual battles mirror the physical. In some traditions, within the sphere of spiritual medicine, it is believed that only those with a certain stature, those deeply immersed and elevated as spiritual leaders, hold the power to confront and defeat a Wendigo.

Speaker 1: 14:38

Amid the vast tapestry of oral traditions of the Algonquin people, a standout is the Seven Fires prophecy. These aren't just stories. They're spiritual cornerstones, a legacy of teachings, of rituals, of wisdom passed down through the generations. Eight prophets from seven distinct, different eras brought these prophecies to life. Each era, each prophecy, illuminated as a fire. In these fires, they speak of a world precariously balanced, a planet tainted waters, turned bitter, by sheer neglect and disrespect. Humanity, then, faces a choice, one that's perhaps more relevant now than ever before A divergence from rampant materialism and profound spirituality. The path we choose, these prophecies suggest, could mark the difference between extinction and survival. In a world now echoing with the din of consumerism, shadowed by the looming specter of climate change. The Seven Fires prophecy feels almost prophetic. It's like a distant echo getting louder, and it makes you wonder if this could ring true.

Speaker 1: 16:11

What of the other tales from Algonquin traditions, tales like the legend of the Wendigo? Delving deeper into the Algonquin oral histories, whispers suggest that the Wendigo tale might have first been uttered by an outcast, a man shunned and cast away from his tribe years ago. And, as with all stories, while its origins may be shrouded in mystery, its resonance is deeply felt even today. Imagine, if you will, a man stepping out of the shadows of a dense forest. His silhouette, weary eyes, haunted. He'd been wandering endlessly, it seemed, with his family Exile. They trudged on searching for any semblance of civilization, their feet echoing stories of pain, loss and determination. When the man eventually stumbled upon a city, the weight of desperation pressing on him, he approached its people with a plea. Starvation, he said, had claimed his family. He spoke of an unforgiving wilderness where he had left their lifeless forms, and how he pushed onward, driven by a sheer will to survive.

Speaker 1: 17:28

But here's where things get a little murky. The city's residents, ever observant, felt a mismatch. This man? Well, he didn't quite wear the face of someone on the brink of death by hunger. Doubt cast its shadow, leaving them to summon the local authorities.

Speaker 1: 17:49

Hours turned heavy under scrutiny, and under this weight, the truth began to unravel. The man admitted that, yes, there had been a cabin, a refuge, in the heart of the forest, but the sanctuary soon became a prison, as food ran scarce and tragedy struck his family within its walls. Driven by the need to validate his claims, the authorities accompanied him back to the cabin. The sight that greeted them confirmed the family's demise, but not as the man had initially portrayed. Starvation, it seemed, was not the only culprit, but the real horror it was just beginning to reveal itself. Stepping into that cabin was like stepping into the very heart of darkness. The scene was one of pure visceral horror Bodies those of a woman and children strewn about, torn with evidence of consumption.

Speaker 1: 18:49

There, in the midst of the aftermath, stood the man, frantic, his words spilling out in a desperate bid to explain. He spoke of possession of an evil force that had gripped him, led him down this unimaginable path. According to him, it wasn't really him at all, but this entity, a creature from nightmares, that had driven him to commit the heinous act. It compelled him to not just end their lives, but to engage in an unspeakable act of desecration. Understandably, the authorities found this story hard, if not impossible, to swallow. No pun intended, the conclusion seemed clear-cut A man driven to madness had turned on his own family. The justice of the city was swift and unforgiving. They condemned him to meet his end at the gallows. But here's where the lines blur once more.

Speaker 1: 19:48

Among the Algonquin people, the tale took on another hue. They believed in the creature the man had described Its name the Wendigo. This wasn't just the desperate excuse of a broken man, but something rooted in deep ancient tribal lore. And when it comes to the Wendigo, there isn't just one story. There are. Many Myths have a way of intertwining with reality, weaving tales that unsettled the soul. One such legend, deeply rooted in Algonquin folklore, speaks of a warrior, a beacon of strength and hope for his tribe. In a desperate bid to shield his people from the brink of extinction, he made a pact, a trade that echoed with eternal consequences. In offering his very soul to the devil, he underwent a metamorphosis no longer the hero of his tribe, he emerged as the Wendigo, a symbol of terror leading to his banishment from the very tribe he sought to protect. Yet that isn't the only tale that paints the chilling portrait of the Wendigo.

Speaker 1: 21:00

Imagine a vast expanse of white wilderness where the cold bites and hunger gnaws more ferociously than any beast. A man, driven by desperation to feed his family, steps into this unforgiving abyss. Days blend into one another, his strength waning, hope dimming till. The world around him seems a blur. Just when the line between life and death becomes razor thin, another figure emerges, a fellow hunter, potential savior. But hunger, it seems, knows no reason. Instead of greeting, the weakened man lunges, driven by an overpowering primal urge. What follows is an act so chilling the very fabric of humanity seems to tear. He woke from this act, the metallic taste of blood still fresh. But when his eyes opened, the spark of humanity was extinguished, replaced by a ravenous craving that recognized no bounds. He, like the warrior from the earlier tale, had become an embodiment of fear. He had transformed into the Wendigo.

Speaker 1: 22:23

The shadows in the northern forests of the United States and Canada have long been thick with whispers, tales of a creature that roams with an insatiable hunger. From the hushed villages of Minnesota to the vast expanse of the Great Lakes and the heartland of Canada, the story reverberates through time. It's here, amidst the cold and isolation, that the Wendigo is said to hunt. Some narratives intertwine the Wendigo with the elusive Bigfoot. Others draw a comparison to a werewolf, painting a picture of a creature that, after feasting on human flesh, can retreat back into a man's form. It's as if the legends themselves are constantly evolving, much like the Wendigo's metamorphic nature. As the 20th century dawned, an unsettling murmur gripped the Algonquin communities. Reports flooded in of missing individuals, souls that had seemingly been swallowed by the vast expanses of the wilderness. The Algonquin elders, voices heavy with worry, pointed to the Wendigo, claiming the beast had claimed more victims to satiate its insatiable hunger.

Speaker 1: 23:37

It's said that the windigo thrives in the biting cold, making winters embrace its preferred hunting ground. But what does this creature, the embodiment of ancient fears, look like? It's a towering figure, almost 15 feet, looming overhead, a gaunt silhouette, skeletal and starved. Its skin a pale gray or an off yellow, stretches, taut over jutting ribs. Despite its emaciation, there's an aura of immense strength. The windigo's crown is marked by sparse, ragged strands of hair, perhaps the last vestige of its human past. Within its deeply set sockets, eyes that glow with the haunting luminescence keep watch. But it's the mouth that's most unsettling. Rotten lips hang loosely, revealing jagged yellow fangs in a tongue reminiscent of a frog's. Atop its head, massive antlers sharpened like spears extend, ready to impale the creature. A paradox of sorts merges human and beast. Sometimes it sports a snout, other times it takes a more humanoid form. While for its size, the windigo can rise on two legs, yet it often skulks on all fours, darting with an unmatched speed, and its hands they're armed with talons as sharp as razors, and its feet morph into something resembling hooves.

Speaker 1: 25:17

Its legends, myriad as the stars, speak of a being with an unmistakable heart of ice and a body deformed by the harsh elements. Some even speak of missing toes and lips, perhaps sacrifices to the brutal cold it calls home. Yet despite the meticulous detailing of its visage and hushed tails, there's a star-caunting assertion Perhaps no one has truly seen the windigo and lived to recount the tale. The sheer magnitude of terror it invokes is believed to be so intense, so paralyzing, that one glimpse could snuff out a life consumed by the abyss of dread. If, by chance, you were to cross paths with this creature, your options would be terrifyingly limited. While legend states it could be harmed by bashing, cutting or even shooting, such endeavors might prove futile. Its decaying, corpse-like exterior belies an impenetrable shield, even as tough as the hardest metals known to man.

Speaker 1: 26:26

The whispered strategies passed from elder to child offer a singular ray of hope. To truly vanquish this monster, you have to reach its icy heart and render it to molten liquid in the crucible of a roaring fire. Fire, in its primal, all-consuming essence, stands as a beacon, a lone protector against the looming threat of the windigo. But the windigo's journey doesn't end with its insatiable hunger. A darker layer lies beneath.

Speaker 1: 27:00

While most see the windigo as a monstrous skeletal being, whispers in the night tell of its transformation. Each human it consumes only fuels its evolution. Its skeletal frame bulks up, muscles rippling, evolving into a formidable, monstrous figure. And with this newfound might, its threat only amplifies. The dichotomy is haunting the more it feasts, the stronger it becomes. Yet its hunger only grows, trapping it in a ceaseless cycle of consumption.

Speaker 1: 27:38

The windigo is not just driven by its physical hunger, but also by an agonizing internal torment, never truly sated, no matter how many souls it devours. And as it prowls the icy terrains of the North, the windigo leaves behind not just the usual footprints, but bloody indentations in the snow, a chilling signature in the pristine white landscape. With every step a disturbing reminder of its recent feast. Its presence is unmistakable, a grotesque, olfactory tapestry of death. Its breath, a stinging, putrid miasma that one can sense from miles away. And if you're close enough to hear it, the windigo's hissing breath, disturbing and otherworldly, will likely be the last sound that graces your ears.

Speaker 1: 28:36

Its stamina, incomprehensible to us mere mortals, makes it an ever-vigilant predator, stalking its next victim with an almost supernatural persistence. It's not just its monstrous appearance that terrifies its victims, but also its uncanny, almost supernatural abilities. Even the unparalleled horror of hearing a familiar voice calling out for help, only to discover it's the windigo's lethal trap. Such is its prowess it can mimic human voices, luring the unsuspecting into the dark, unforgiving forest. There are tales that suggest an even deeper layer of deception. Not only can it mimic the voices of its prey, but some believe it can assume the very form of its last victim, a haunting reminder of the line between humanity and the windigo. The forest is its domain and the windigo knows every twist and turn. Those who venture in are not only facing the beast, but navigating a treacherous maze, aided by its exceptional night vision. It's as though the windigo has an intimate bond with the moonlit nights, adding another layer of dread to its nightly haunt. And if its formidable hunting skills weren't enough, some stories tell of the windigo's power to influence the very elements around it, as if conspiring with winter itself. The beast can plummet temperatures, intensifying the snow and ice, making escape almost impossible for its prey.

Speaker 1: 30:16

In our collective psyche, the windigo has evolved beyond a mere monster. It's become the embodiment of nature's darker side, a blend of the familiar and the unthinkable. Always waiting and always hungry, the windigo is a master of terrain, its long, grotesque limbs offering advantages that seem almost unfair. Whether it's a sheer rock face or the tallest pine, nothing stands in its way. It's not merely content with chasing for the windigo. It's about the thrill of the hunt, the delight in terrorizing its prey. Imagine a giant lifting a human, effortlessly overhead, letting their lifeblood rain down almost ritualistically. It's an image that provokes a visceral horror, something deeply primordial and fearsome. Yet its tactics extend beyond physical prowess.

Speaker 1: 31:17

The windigo is not just a hunter but a possessor. It invades not just our lands but our very psyches, drawing out our darkest, most forbidden impulses. The tale of the hunter serves as a grim reminder. Under the right or perhaps wrong circumstances, anyone could become the very beast they dread. This hunger is not just for sustenance but for the very souls of its victims. And perhaps the most chilling thought of all is the notion that the windigo's influence is strongest when we are at our weakest. Hunger, desperation, isolation these are the triggers that open the door for windigo possession, that blur the line between man and monster. It's said that those under the Wendigo spell will turn on those closest to them, giving the myth a tragic edge. It's not just about fear but loss, the pain of seeing a loved one turned into a predator.

Speaker 1: 32:22

The Wendigo isn't just a creature of folklore. It's a symbol of our deepest fears, our vulnerability and the price we might pay when we surrender to our basest instincts. In the heart of the winter, when the land is frozen and silence permeates every corner, ancient rituals echo through the woods the rhythmic pounding of feet, the synchronized chants. These are not mere ceremonies, but desperate calls to the spirits from First Nations peoples, protective measures against an insidious evil that lurks in the shadows. The Wendigo isn't just a creature that haunts us. It's an entity that seeks to become us. The gravest danger it poses is not its physical presence but its mental infiltration, its capacity to creep into the dreams of the vulnerable.

Speaker 1: 33:21

There's a special kind of horror in the idea that our deepest, darkest recesses could be hijacked, steering us into violence and taboo Desperation. The chilling fear that wells up when one's back is against the wall and options are running out. Cannibalism, the unthinkable act. Yet in the direst of circumstances, with the gnawing pain of hunger and cold biting at one's heels, the previously unimaginable becomes a real consideration. But the Wendigo doesn't wait for the act to take root. It prays on the mere thought. Once that seed of desperation has been planted, once the fleeting idea of consuming human flesh has taken hold, it swoops in. The line between human and Wendigo blurs until there's no distinguishing one from the other. The stories may differ, the details may vary, but one theme remains consistent the Wendigo embodies our deepest fears, those moments when our humanity feels fragile, when survival instincts threaten to override our moral compass. The Wendigo is there, watching, waiting, ready to take control. The question remains in our most desperate moments, what might any of us be capable of Think between the Wendigo and intense human emotions Greed, materialism, self-destruction so intense that the fear of this transformation became a cornerstone of tribal communities.

Speaker 1: 35:57

It urged them to care for each other, to avoid the pitfalls of excessive selfishness, to stay united. In these tribal societies, individualism wasn't just frowned upon, it was a threat. They believed in shared resources, mutual respect, communal living. To them, isolation and excessive self-centeredness were synonymous with vulnerability. But why this profound belief in the inherent selfishness and violence of humanity?

Speaker 1: 36:28

Some anthropologists have a theory. They suggest that the traumatizing experiences with European settlers, the violence, the forestry locations, all fed into this narrative. These tribes saw unfathomable acts of cruelty. Could a human really be capable of such deeds? Or were they in fact possessed by this embodiment of evil, the Wendigo? As their very existence was threatened, their land and resources taken away, desperation settled in. It became scarce and the looming shadow of the Wendigo grew larger. Desperation pushed some to the brink where the line between human and Wendigo blurred. One could only imagine the heart-wrenching struggle of watching their kin starve with a feeling of absolute powerlessness.

Speaker 1: 37:21

The Wendigo, to members of indigenous tribes, is not just a horrifying entity but also a metaphor. It represents the colonization they endured, their rights and freedoms ripped away, and their confinements to reservations and residential schools. Think of it as the embodiment of all of the pain, of the imperialism and colonization they faced. The 2010 film A Wendigo Tale brilliantly captures this In it. The monster isn't just a mythical creature. It truly embodies colonization. But there's another facet to this legend that's truly intriguing. The Wendigo's lore, incredibly, has made its way into modern medicine.

Speaker 1: 38:06

Wendigo psychosis is a term used in psychiatry. It's a diagnosis for those who crave human flesh or have an intense dread of becoming a cannibal. The term has its roots in the 1920s, introduced by missionary Jay Sandin. While living among the Kree near Hudson Bay, he shared a harrowing tale of a woman who believed she'd encountered would-be cannibals. Her story was one of terror, paranoia and the imminent danger of being consumed. Sandin diagnosed her with what was initially called psychoneurosis, but later renamed Wendigo psychosis. And here lies the debate Is Wendigo psychosis a genuine medical condition, a mental disorder, or is it, as some believe, the first step to actually becoming a Wendigo? The condition is particularly associated with the Great Lakes regions, especially during bone-chilling winters. Cold, isolation and hunger might just be the perfect storm for this affliction. But it isn't just about the craving. It's also about the fear, the fear of cannibalism, likened to the dread one feels standing at the edge of a cliff, afraid that they might just jump. Historical records show cases of Wendigo psychosis. Tribes, always vigilant, had healers ready to treat those believed to be possessed. However, the moment someone displayed signs of violence or became a threat, drastic measures were taken, often accumulating in death, all in the name of safeguarding the tribe.

Speaker 1: 40:01

Europe, the 1600s A time of discovery, of mapping out the unknown, and a collision of two very different worlds. In the midst of this turbulent period, nestled within records that chronicled conquests and religions, merged, a chilling tale. Paul Lejeune was a Jesuit missionary immersed in the culture of the Algonquin people in the early 1600s. Paul wasn't just recording spiritual observations or missionary works. Instead, in 1636, he documents something far more sinister. He writes of a creature, the Wendigo, a monstrosity that hunted and consumed members of Northern tribes. In a report to his superiors in Paris in 1636, lejeune wrote this woman added that the Wendigo had eaten some Attica-make people these are the tribes that live north of the river that is called Three Rivers and that he would eat a great many more of them if he were not called elsewhere, but that Atchen sort of a werewolf would come in his place to devour them, even up to the French fort, that he would slaughter the French themselves. Father Lejeune's report demonstrates that 17th century Europeans believed in evil supernatural spirits just as strongly as their First Nations contemporaries. In fact, father Lejeune's report predates the Salem witch trials by nearly sixty years. Missionaries in what became Canada continue to report legends of the Wendigo well into the 20th century.

Speaker 1: 41:42

Fast forward a few decades and the tales don't dissipate. They solidify the Jesuit relations and allied documents from 1661, a veritable record of New France offers yet another tale. This one is not about an ethereal beast, but men. Men overtaken by an otherworldly hunger, craving the unthinkable. But this isn't just your typical hunger, it's canine, wild and unending. These men and their delirium stalk to others, be it women, children or other men. Violence wasn't just an act, it was a compulsion. In their prize the very flesh of those they attacked. Yet even with their grisly meals, satisfaction eluded them. Their hunger was insatiable. The records drew a chilling comparison, describing these men as werewolves, but unlike the mythical beasts that could be cured with silver. The only remedy for this affliction was a grim one Capture and execution.

Speaker 1: 42:49

These tales, embedded deep within historical records, aren't just stories. They're a bridge, a link between two worlds. They challenge our understanding of history, human nature and the thin line between the civilized and the monstrous. What makes a man turn into a creature of legend? Is it culture? Is it nature? Or perhaps something far more inexplicable?

Speaker 1: 43:17

Northern Minnesota, the late 1800s to the 1920s, a place renowned for its vast forests, pristine lakes, hudson's Bay Company, an iconic entity synonymous with the fur trade and the European exploration of North America. But its records, diligently kept by its employees at trading posts, didn't just chronicle trade. They captured this fear as tales of Wendigo sightings seeped through a pattern, emerged. Each sighting, marked by chilling reports from the native people, was punctuated by another ominous event. Someone, usually from the vicinity of the sighting, would vanish, leaving behind no trace, their fate unknown. Among the tales, one stands out An account not just of a Wendigo, but of a transformation.

Speaker 1: 44:14

The stage, a Cree tribe, the protagonist, their spiritual leader, known as a shaman, named Abishabhis. His transformation wasn't just physical, but deeply spiritual and psychological From a revered figure, a beacon of wisdom, abishabhis morphed into a creature consumed by greed and violence. But what makes this story even more harrowing is the speed of his transformation. In a whirlwind of madness, abishabhis, overwhelmed by bloodlust, turned on those he loved most, taking the lies of his own family and his tribe, who once looked up to him, now looked upon him in terror. It wasn't just about stopping a man. It was about preventing a transformation, halting the birth of a Wendigo. And so, in a desperate bid, three of his followers rose against him. The battle was fierce, for Abishabhis wasn't just a man anymore. He was something more, something powerful and, above all, something hungry.

Speaker 1: 45:22

Our histories are laced with tales of monsters and men, but where does one end in the other begin? As we delve further, remember sometimes the monsters we fear the most are the ones we harbor within 1878. Winter has gripped the land, each snowflake adding to a blanket that isolates a crea family from the rest of the world. Swift runner, a father, a husband, faced a terrifying challenge. With food stores depleted, the weight of responsibility bore heavily on his shoulders. His family, cold and starving, pinned their hopes on the very pillar of their household and their eldest son fell to hunger. Swift's wife implored him, begging him to face the storm and travel to the Hudson Bay's trading post just 25 miles away. But Swift runner resisted. As the snow piled up, the lines between man and monster began to blur. Swift runner's eyes, once filled with love and determination, were now shadowed by a hunger and a dark desire. His family, who he once would have given the world for, turned from beloved kin into potential sustenance. One by one, the tragedy unfolded In the hush of the snowy wilderness. Swift runner's family met their end at his hands.

Speaker 1: 46:49

When the snow's receded, swift runner was discovered and the tale he told chilled even the most hardened of hearts. He spoke of the Wendigo, an ancient evil. In his tale, it wasn't him that took the lives of his family. It was this creature that consumed him, made him a spectator in his own body as it carried out its insatiable hunger. But were these the ramblings of a broken mind or the echoes of an ancient legend come to life? Fort Saskatchewan bore witness to Swift runner's final moments. But what lingers is the question Was it the man or the monster that met its end?

Speaker 1: 47:30

Jack Fiddler, not just a tribal chief, but a medicine man with an eerie talent that many wouldn't dare fathom. Over the years, fourteen documented cases of Jack slaying Wendigos, the nightmarish creatures that haunt the native legends. Sometimes the Wendigos, those insidious creatures, were sent as curses upon his tribe by enemies. But there were moments, heart-rending moments, when his own tribe's people would seek Jack out eyes filled with fear to ask him to end the life of a loved one turning into one of these monsters. Even more chilling there were those already touched by the Wendigos curse who'd approached Jack begging for their own end. The tragic tale of Peter Flett, jack's own brother, is a testament to Jack's unyielding resolve. Out on a trade isolated. When hunger clawed at Peter and darkness took hold, jack did what he believed was the only way to save his brother's soul.

Speaker 1: 48:36

But 1907 brought a new trial for Jack, not a Wendigo but the Canadian legal system. In 1987, jack and his brother Joseph found themselves behind bars, not for battling mythical creatures, but for a far more human act the death of Joseph's daughter-in-law. Jack's plea was like something out of an old legend, he claimed he took a life not out of malice but to rid the world of yet another Wendigo. In his eyes, he was not a murderer but a savior. Yet the walls of prison closed around him, in a tragic twist, before the trial could even commence. Jack met his own fate by his own hand. And as Joseph's trial unfolded, a tapestry of voices rose in defense Missionaries, hudson's Bay employees, even a heartbreaking testimony from Angus Ray, who spoke of his daughter-in-law's torment. It portrayed a scene not of cold-blooded murder but of mercy, of a tribe navigating its beliefs amidst the confines of Canadian law. But even as the weight of life in prison bore down on Joseph, the universe had won. Last twist in store, justice might have been delayed, but as the light of pardon shown for Joseph, it arrived too late.

Speaker 1: 50:00

The tragedy of the Fiddler family is a mosaic of culture, law and the haunting specter of Wendigos. It's a tale that forces us to confront where ancient beliefs intersect with modern society and the costs of such collision. It might be easy to think that, as the world grew smaller, as every patch of land was charted and technology intertwined our lives, legends like the Wendigo had fade into the annals of history. But sometimes the past doesn't stay buried. Sometimes it simply evolves. After the flapper dresses and jazz of the 1920s began to wane, so did the Wendigo sightings. Tribal communities shifted, modern cities grew and vast wild expanses where myths could lurk and legends could prowl diminished. Yet the north remains a mysterious expanse where tales whisper through the pines and danced on the mist of the lakes. In Ontario, home to the cave of the Wendigo, nearby, two lakes bear its name, one in Minnesota and the other in Wisconsin. These places aren't just remnants of the past. They're pulsing heartbeats of a story that refuses to die. Canora, ontario, dubbed the Wendigo capital of the world. Even as we entered the 21st century, a time of smartphones and satellites, the town's eerie title seemed more relevant than ever.

Speaker 1: 51:33

In 2019, northwestern Ontario's dense forest became the stage for fresh reports of Wendigo encounters. Is it the collective rhythm of a society? Is it a primal fear rearing its head, or perhaps something real that continues to stalk the shadows? Maybe in a world striving for explanation and reason, there are still corners where mysteries live and breathe. The forest has a rhythm, a predictable ebb and flow. Birds sing, branches sway and footsteps sound on the forest floor.

Speaker 1: 52:11

But on this particular hunting trip. Gino Mekies, a seasoned hunter with decades of experience, heard a tune he couldn't quite place. Now, gino was no amateur. This was a man who could tell you the tread of a rabbit from a raccoon, who knew the woods like the back of his hand. But sometimes even the familiar can turn unsettlingly alien. The sun was getting low, shadows stretching long, and that's when it happened. At first it seemed almost mundane, perhaps a moose caught in a strange cry, but as the seconds ticked by, the noise seemed to transform to mutate into something far less identifiable. Now imagine this miles away from civilization, surrounded only by the whispers of the forest, and this chilling sound is drawing near. Gino's wife clutched their grandson. Fear evident in her eyes, every instinct telling them to flee. But in this era of smartphones and digital footprints, Gino took out his device and pressed record. The internet is a vast echo chamber where everyone is an expert.

Speaker 1: 53:26

When Gino posted his audio, theories unfurled like a flag in the wind. For some it was the howl of a wolf echoing through the trees. Yet the tone, the cadence, didn't match the wolf calls familiar to seasoned woodsmen. Grizzly bears were poisted too, but there's a problem with that theory. Oh, grizzlies, they aren't native to these woods.

Speaker 1: 53:53

Then, of course, the Sasquatch enthusiasts join in Bigfoot, that elusive giant always at the edge of discovery, always out of reach. But this sound, it was darker, more guttural, laced with a hunger Bigfoot tales never touched upon. It's terrifying to consider. But what if this wasn't just an animal? What if this was something ancient, something born of myth and sustained by fear? The Wendigo, its legend runs deep in these parts, a creature born of starvation, of desperation, its cries a testament to its eternal hunger.

Speaker 1: 54:34

Gino's video doesn't give us answers. It gives us a mystery, a chilling, haunting echo of something that's out there, eating, watching and always, always hungry. It's a sound, a scream, really, that doesn't quite fit any of our known categories. Biologists, those who have dedicated their lives to understanding the vast tapestry of wildlife, listened to Gino's recording and while they're pretty confident it's not the call of some unidentified creature of lore, they can't pinpoint exactly what it is. Jolanta Klawowski, from Ontario's Ministry of Resources and Forestry, gave her best guess she thinks it's a large mammal, which makes sense, but still doesn't explain that eerie, haunting call.

Speaker 1: 55:29

What's surprising to many is how the legend of the Wendigo isn't a staple in our western pop culture consciousness. Maybe that's why, for a moment, the echo of Bigfoot's imagined steps seemed louder to some. But it's worth noting that the Wendigo made its broader cultural debut only in 1910 with Algernon Blackwood's novel. Since then, this mysterious, perhaps misunderstood, creature has snuck its way into various forms of art and entertainment, from novels and films to graphic novels and, yes, video games. And if that's not a testament to our culture's simultaneous fear and fascination, I learned that Bush Gardens in Williamsburg has an animatronic Wendigo. It's not roaming free, mind you, but chained inside a cage in an area they've aptly named Wingo Woods. But having dived deep into this legend, I completely understand the mix of awe and terror at evokes.

Speaker 1: 56:26

But for now the mystery remains. It's a blend of fact and fiction, history and modernity, science and myth. It keeps us searching for answers and in the end, isn't that what storytelling is all about? To wrap up today's episode, there's a narrative that's both riveting and deeply unsettling, something I want to delve into with you all. Not an account buried deep within history, but a tale, a testimony from someone who very recently claims to have had a run-in with the Wingo.

Speaker 1: 57:03

I stumbled upon this intriguing encounter on the Wisconsin Frights blog. It's an earnest recount from David W, who felt compelled to share his experience through a rather distressed email. David's story unfolds in Manitowoc County, wisconsin. Just a few months prior, he and his wife had taken to a new life in the region, the surroundings of Point Beach State Forest and two rivers still foreign and mysterious to them. Here they were bows in hand, fully immersed in their hunting expedition near Pissing Swap State Natural Area.

Speaker 1: 57:40

But serenity can quickly transform into unease. The woods and all their majesty have a way of amplifying solitude, and for David this solitude transformed into the eerie sensation of being watched. He chose to bottle up this feeling. As they trekked on, they reached a divergence in the trail To the right. The path they were on continued To the left. A snowmobile trail stretched out. This crossroad seemed familiar to David. He had stood at this very junction in the past few days but something in his gut had prevented him from exploring further, a strange and explicable reluctance that tethered him to the known path.

Speaker 1: 58:24

As David and his wife made their way deeper into the thick foliage, approaching that forked path, a sudden rustling broke the forest's silence. This was not the subtle whisper of leaves caressed by a gentle breeze. No, this was definitely something heavier. David recalls the sheer magnitude of the force, so large, he said, that I could feel its weight reverberate through the ground beneath my feet. His mind raced to a logical explanation Perhaps a buck, a large, elusive deer?

Speaker 1: 58:59

Curiosity getting the better of them, the couple followed the path drawing into a clearing filled with imposing pines that reached for the skies, and then they saw it, partially concealed, its vast form, intermittently hidden and revealed behind a thick tree trunk. It looked at first glance like a bear, upright, scratching its back against rough bark. But, as David observed, some things didn't add up. It moved, he says, side stepping slowly, and I could see not just a limb but an arm, a very long arm, so dark it almost absorbed the light around it. The creature, this looming entity, shifted its posture almost playfully as it went down on all fours. David caught a glimpse of its head, or what he presumed to be its head. It wasn't like anything I've seen. David recalls it was elongated, horizontal like a football, but with ears long and tapering upwards. David's eyes then caught another detail Notice of what seemed like grayish hair hanging long and almost wispy. Estimating its size, the sheer enormity became clear. This wasn't any known creature, standing a staggering 8 to 10 feet tall, those willowy, gangly arms lending in an almost ethereal presence For what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a minute. David and his wife stood transfixed. Before they could comprehend this being took three purposeful steps and, like smoke, melted away into the forest underbrush.

Speaker 1: 1:00:49

As the tendrils of evening crept in enveloping the forest in a deeper shade, david's instincts kicked in, the urgency of their situation becoming painfully clear. We needed to leave. David recounted an audible tremor in his voice. Every step they took felt weighed down not just by the earlier encounter but by the growing sensation that they were no longer alone in these woods. That tingling feeling of being watched, like a cool breath on the back of your neck, stayed with them. A presence, intangible but almost palpable, seemed to shadow them, mirroring their steps, always just out of sight. Suddenly, the forest gave way to a clearing, a brief interlude in their tense journey. A quarter mile from safety, with their vehicles, silhouette visible in the distance, a solitary deer stood in their path. Its silhouette bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, an unexpected, serene tableau.

Speaker 1: 1:01:53

Amidst their chaotic retreat, david, ever the huntsman, saw an opportunity. With the quickness only years of experience can bring, he readied his bow, knocking an arrow equipped with a lighted knock, a feature ensuring its trajectory could be followed even in the dimming light. The arrow flew, but as David observed its path, a sinking realization settled in it was too low, he recalled the twang of regret evident, but did it hit its mark? The deer's reaction offered no clarity. Together, they scoured the field searching for the missing arrow. Minutes felt like hours as they combed the grass and then, as if guiding them back into the forest embrace, a soft glow beckoned from the edge of the woods, david's arrow, inexplicably positioned near the tree line, its luminous knock painting a haunting picture. What forces brought it there? What message did the forest intend to convey?

Speaker 1: 1:03:02

David's story is, without question, haunting. As with many accounts of encounters with the unknown, it's tinged with this inescapable sense of the surreal. His description paints an eerie tapestry of fear, curiosity and, dare I say, a longing to understand. But what struck me the most, it's not the description of the creature, not its towering stature, its jet-black silhouette, its gangly arms. It's the smell, that overpowering, stifling aroma of decay. It's almost primal A signal, perhaps A warning of danger, a marker of territory, or maybe just a lingering imprint of an entity that exists on the margins of our understanding. And then there's the arrow, an artifact, if you will, that adds another layer of mystery to the narrative. It was embedded in the ground in such an improbable angle, as though the forest itself is trying to communicate something, a message, a sign, or maybe a challenge. An adult bear, especially a particularly large one, could reach that height. But the other features David described? They don't match up. The arms, the movement, the sensation of being observed with an almost sentient intensity, those details, they veer off from the path of logical explanation.

Speaker 1: 1:04:35

In the tapestry of American folklore, the Wendigo looms large. It's a manifestation of hunger, of greed, of winter's biting chill, but it's also a story of transformation, humans turning into something other. In David's story do we see the Wendigo? Or perhaps is it the forest itself, alive, watchful and protective of its secrets? We'd love to hear from others who've treaded these same woods or perhaps encountered something similar elsewhere. The beauty of stories like David's is in their shared nature and the collective narrative they create. So if you've been in the woods and felt that prickle on the back of your neck, that sensation of being observed, we want to hear about it.

Speaker 1: 1:05:28

In when Walls Can Talk, every story. Every episode serves as a journey, unraveling the tapestries of human experience, woven with threads of both the real and the inexplicable. The tale of the Wendigo is no different. It's not just a tale of a mysterious creature that prowls the woods of North America, but a testament to humanity's relationship with the unknown. For centuries, indigenous tribes have woven the Wendigo into their narratives. It stands as a symbol of greed, insatiable hunger and the sheer brutality of winter.

Speaker 1: 1:06:05

Yet as modernity dawns, the Wendigo has taken on new dimensions. No longer is it merely a story told to keep children from wandering into the forests, but it's morphed into an embodiment of our innermost fears and the shadows of our collective consciousness. As with David's encounter, these stories raise questions not just about the creature's existence, but about our own. Why do we, as a species, continue to search for answers in the unknown? Is it mere curiosity, or is there a deeper need to feel connected with the mysteries that surround us, to believe that there is more to this world than what meets the eye?

Speaker 1: 1:06:50

In a podcast like this one, titled when Walls Can Talk, the Wendigo's tale, while grounded in the expanse of wilderness, serves as a metaphorical wall itself, just as walls bear witness to the lives lived within them. The forests stand testament to the stories, myths and experiences that have traversed their paths. They have absorbed every gasp of wonder, every shiver of fear and every cry for understanding. Albert Einstein once said the most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. The Wendigo, in all its enigmatic terror and wonder, beckons us to step closer to the mysterious, to question our reality and to seek the beauty that lies in the unexplained.

Speaker 1: 1:07:42

As we close another chapter, I find myself, as always, wondering are the walls around us merely constructed of brick and mortar, or are they built from the stories and legends that we pass down from generation to generation? And if the walls could talk, would they whisper to us of truths yet undiscovered, or would they recount the tales of our endless search for understanding? Another chapter in our exploration of the unknown comes to an end, and it's important to remember that stories like these, whether they spring from the depths of history, personal encounters or the fringes of our imagination, are shaped by the listeners as much as by the storytellers Behind. When walls can talk, at the moment there's really just one person piecing it all together, and that's me, jeremy Haig. If these stories have resonated with you or made your heart race, then I would like to invite you to leave us a review. We've been spotlighting your thoughts, reflections and experiences right at the beginning of every episode, and it's a way to make this journey just a little more communal.

Speaker 1: 1:09:45

As well as give me a chance to express my appreciation, I want to take a moment to acknowledge the music that carried us through this episode, which is brought to you by Artlistio, and it's the fabric that really stitches together this narrative, adding layers of emotion, intrigue and just a general atmosphere. If you found yourself lost in the melodies, like I have, and you're thinking of trying out the platform for yourself, I got good news for you. A special link in the show notes allows you to experience the best royalty-free and copyright music in the game, and when you decide to join with a paid membership, you'll receive an additional two months absolutely free. It's a token of my appreciation from me and from Artlist for joining them on this adventure, and so, till we meet again, stay curious, stay brave and always listen to the stories that surround you, because, as we've learned, when walls can talk, they have tales to tell that can change the way we see the world around us. So long for now.