Mothman

Humanity has long been fascinated with supernatural. We long to catch a glimpse of it--a realm just underneath our own. An anaglyph of realities. We sense that if we only had the ability to perceive them both, the true image would come into focus.
But sometimes, it seems, the image shifts, and this supernatural realm breaches the delicate veil of our own. Sometimes, the consequences are far from benevolent.
On a cool night in November of 1966, a specter of unknown origin breached that very veil and descended on the unsuspecting town of Point Pleasant, West Virginia. It would haunt the region for a year, a giant, winged shadow, leaving witnesses with an overwhelming sense of dread and unease that persisted long after their encounters.
At least, so the legends claim.
Today, I will present my findings on this so-called mothman. Rest assured, the true nature of this creature is decidedly grounded in reality. And yet, as with many things I have encountered, there are shadows that the light of discovery refuses dispel.

Lore

On the evening of November 15, 1966, two young couples were driving outskirts of a wilderness preserve know colloquially as the "TNT Area," when their headlights fell upon a spectral silhouette--an enormous, white creature, some seven feet tall, with white wings, and glowing red eyes that instilled a hypnotic effect.
Startled and deeply unsettled, the group drove away... and the creature followed. The thing shrieked overhead, even as the speedometer approached 100 miles per hour. It didn't relent until, at last, they pulled back into town.
The group escaped their harrowing encounter, but they would not be the only ones haunted by this apparition. Over the next year, this creature was sighted numerous times in the Point Pleasant region, often accompanied by ominous occurrences. One witness caught the beast in the beam of a flashlight, describing eyes that glowed like bicycle reflectors. This witness even described disruptions in his television signal, and noted that his german shepherd had disappeared without a trace that very night.
Thirteen months after the first sighting of what would come to be called the mothman, on December 15th, 1967, commuters were just leaving work for the day, crossing the nearby Ohio river via the Silver Bridge.
Suddenly, the din of traffic was interrupted by an ear-splitting crack, almost like a gunshot. Before those crossing the river had time to even register the sound, the Silver Bridge folded like a deck of cards, collapsing into the water and dragging 46 souls to a watery death.

Following the Silver Bridge tragedy, sightings of the Mothman, which had been a semi-regular occurrence to that point, dwindled to zero.
Residents of Point Pleasant, reeling from the loss of friends and family, couldn't help but make a connection. Was the mothman a herald from another realm, perhaps sent as a warning of imminent disaster? Or was it a malevolent spirit, breaching a natural boundary and leaving destruction in its wake?
In either case, though it seemed to disappear following that event, those affected by these sightings were plagued by a far more primal question: what will happen if the mothman returns?

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There is little point in delaying my findings, my valued listener. In short, the so-called "Mothman" is neither supernatural nor any kind of bizarre hybrid. It is, in fact, a very large strigiform owl--though, with some admittedly unique qualities.
I must also admit that the idea of the mothman, as related in the news, at one point seemed to me nothing more than a misidentified crane or heron, blown out of proportion by sensational media coverage.
In truth, I was prepared to dismiss the accounts entirely. So when my "sponsor" assigned the mothman research to me, I was surprised. Nevertheless, I have encountered stranger things, and so I determined to find the truth.
I arrived in the Point Pleasant region days later, accompanied by my team, and with some very sensitive equipment in hand. Perhaps needless to say, it didn't take long for locals to put the pieces together, and they met us with strange mix of emotions: Relief, perhaps to think that they weren't crazy after all, and trepidation, that perhaps this phantom could actually be real.

Photo credit: Joshua Dudley Greer

We began our search at what we determined to be the source of the initial sightings of this creature: an abandoned WWII-era munitions storage and manufacturing facility spread over some 8,000 acres. This area is studded with numerous earth-covered bunkers and buildings that now lie in ruin. During the day, it is little more than an interesting location. But after nightfall, when the moonlight reflects off the concrete monoliths, it's difficult to deny that a deep sense of otherworldliness blankets the region like a low-lying mist.

Strangely, as we conducted a survey of the regions within this TNT area, as it is known, we came across numerous, deep tire tracks, dried and nearly reclaimed by overgrowth. In the same area, we discovered cuboidal structures of rusted bars, each with doors lying ajar. An uneasy silence fell over my companions and I upon finding these structures. They were clearly cages, though there was no evidence to indicate what they once contained.
And so we returned to our work. The creature itself proved elusive for a time, but given that this presentation would have little purpose otherwise, you've likely guessed that we were eventually successful.
Under the cover of night, we obtained an adult specimen and managed to perform a number of tests before... our time was cut short. But while my colleagues were content to consider the mystery solved, I dare not hide the truth from you, my valued listener, and to claim that no questions remain regarding this creature would be a great disservice.
What follows is a complete account of what we discovered over the course of nearly two months.

Evolution

As I mentioned before, in reality, the "mothman" has no relation to insect nor human. This was a name likely chosen for the image it invokes in the imagination, and to that end, it is very effective. But other than possessing wings and some tufts of feathers that could be mistaken for antennae at a distance, much like the long-eared or great-horned owls, my observations quickly led me to the true nature of this creature.
Indeed, Vatesnox appalachiensis, as I have called it, should likely be placed in the strigiform order, alongside similar largely nocturnal birds of prey. I should note here that though binomial nomenclature is preferable for academic purposes, I will occasionally revert to the common vernacular for clarity.
Perhaps the most notable aspect of this creature’s visage is simply its size. Certainly, it dwarfs even the largest birds of prey by an order of magnitude—and though I would require a greater sample size to accurate determine average size, I can safely infer that wingspans of up to ten feet and heights of nearly five feet are not uncommon.
Vatesnox, as a distinct clade, likely lies outside strigidae, the true owls, and tytonidae, the barn owls. Most likely, its lineage split from a Protostrigid ancestor in the early-to-mid Eocene. This progenitor likely bore traits similar to Sophiornithidae, which lived in the paleocene. Interestingly, the latter order were largely terrestrial, and many scientists consider them a kind of proto-owl, if you will.
This lineage retained anatomical adaptations that allow it to traverse both land and sky with ease, making it extraordinarily well-suited not only to its environment, but also to remaining hidden from human view seemingly at will. And so, we will begin our assessment of the appalachiensis' anatomy with these very adaptations.

Anatomy and Behavior

Wings and Flight

Under the cover of night, any unfortunate soul who finds themselves wandering the mothman's hunting ground would likely never see, much less hear, this predator approach. In the pitch blackness, Appalachiensis watches from a high perch among large branches, carefully selected to conceal its silhouette. Upon locating prey, it descends, airborne, silent as the grave, snatching its prey up and stealing it away. In the eerie silence it leaves behind, all that can be heard are its victims' cries, slowly fading into the darkness.
Appalachiensis achieves this silent flight through several impressive adaptations suited to its nocturnal hunting pattern. Its feathers are large, though with fewer radiates and smoother edges than other birds of prey. Its remiges, or flight feathers, in particular, display serrated edges that reduce airflow disruptions, effectively dropping sound levels to frequencies so low that its prey never hears a thing.
But while its feathers are remarkably adapted to silent hunting, its wing structure exhibits far more unique anatomy.
Amazingly, Appalachiensis is able to utilize its wings for arboreal and even occasionally terrestrial locomotion. This is accomplished through several adaptations.
First, its second and third digits extend outward from the main body of the wing, each distal phalanx covered in a keratin sheath. These "claws" are similar to those found in the South American hoatzin, but unlike these distant relatives, its claws persist into adulthood.
Second, in contrast to most other modern avian species, Appalachiensis possesses greatly enlarged muscles in the pectoral girdle, including the pectoralis major and supracoracoideus. This, along with a relatively shallow and rounded glenoid fossa, allows the pectoral girdle to support its weight on the ground, as well as facilitating movement not only in the transverse plane, in a flapping motion, but also in the anteroposterior plane, or front-to-back. Similar enhanced musculature can be found in its hind-limbs as well, wherein the peroneus, flexor, and gastrocnemius muscles appear particularly hypertrophied.
Third, hyperflexible bones of the wrist, including the carpometacarpus, scapulohumeralis, and radiale and ulnare allow the mothman to rotate its entire wing to allow for more articulate "grasping" movements.
Lastly, though I have yet to determine the exact mechanisms, it appears that appalachiensis has undergone some very unique nervous system adaptations. While climbing or moving along the ground, appalachiensis is able to move its forelimbs in cooperation with its hind-limbs, with each limb moving in a traditional quadrupedal pattern. Indeed, they are able to utilize a synchronous "flapping" motion while in flight, while adopting an asynchronous motion on the ground or in climbing--despite the former being a deeply ingrained behavior in normal avian nervous systems.
The reason for these adaptations is simple: by essentially crawling through branches and along the trunks of trees, Vatesnox appalachiensis is able to obscure its large body much more effectively, while also giving it much more maneuverability to escape detection. These traits likely arose as a response to predation, but given the size of these creatures, what predator this could be is still a mystery.
In any case, these adaptations likely account not only for eyewitness reports and artistic interpretations of a humanoid being with distinct arms and legs, but could also contribute to its ability to avoid human contact for vast stretches of time.
Paired with its apparent ability to intentionally hide from observers is another adaptation: its coloration. Overall, the mothman is dark and difficult to see at all after nightfall, but a mottled, cryptic plumage serves to mimic the irregular shadows of the forests in which it dwells.
While an astute observer who knows exactly what they're looking for could potentially pick appalenchiensis out of a treeline, it would be nearly impossible in even mild low-light conditions. And the simple truth is that, like other purely nocturnal hunters--barring some extreme circumstance--this creature is never active during the day.
Indeed, in my own investigation, this "mothman" proved exceptionally elusive. This is partly due to the fact that, though I had thought to use imagery from the recently-launched LandSat satellite to assess the creature's alleged habitat, I discovered that images of the TNT area did not align with our land-based survey. Even now, I'm unsure what might have caused this discrepancy.
But of course, it seems that no creature can remain hidden from human interaction forever, and given its size, it was only a matter of time. When it has been observed, witnesses report other strange morphological features, such as glowing red eyes.
This can be explained in two ways. Contrary to now popular belief, most eyewitnesses have not described "glowing" eyes, as such, but rather, simply, that they were red. Like other nocturnal species, Vatesnox appalachiensis has a specialized layer of tissue located behind the retina, called tapetum lucidum. This is the cause of the characteristic eye-shine found in many animal species, and is likely a partial source of the mothman's "glowing" description. But more specifically, appalachiensis displays a unique, blood-red coloration on its face, which may be a more direct source of the legendary description.
This vibrant coloration is unusual in nocturnal creatures, but it may serve a purpose in sexual or confrontational displays.

The Call

Now, my valued reader, if you've heard of the mothman before this presentation, you've likely heard certain stories, like those alluded to previously. It is said that the mothman appears as an omen, just before some great tragedy. Famously, in 67, it was the collapse of the Silver Bridge, which killed 46 people. Around that time, numerous residents reported nightmares, technological disruptions, and even otherworldly visitations. Surrounding all of these, and along with the sightings--many reported a deep sense of unknowable anxiety and dread.
For thousands of years, the owl has been associated with death and evil. The Hočągara of Wisconsin believe that they are messengers, harbingers of dark powers. In Mayan religion, they are emissaries from Xibalba, "the place of fright." In fact, an old saying in Mexico is translated, "When the owl cries, the Indian dies."
What is the source of these ominous associations? Could there be some truth legends such as these, and many more around the globe?
I posit, my valued reader, that the Point Pleasant reports, and perhaps even the ancient legends, can be fully explained by scientific means, as represented by the mysterious mothman.
Direct, behavioral observation of Vatesnox appalachiensis indicates a very distinct vocalization, one that sounds, in some respects, like the screech common among strigidiformes. However, upon hearing the vocalization for ourselves, my team and I noted an acute emotional reaction, which we later described as unease or even dread.
Presented here is a recording made late one night, within the Clifton F. McClintic Wildlife Management Area--known locally as "the TNT area."

Using sophisticated machinery used to detect a wide spectrum of sound frequencies, I believe I have discovered the cause of the dread, nightmares, and even technological disruption described by the citizens of Point Pleasant.
The call of Vatesnox appalachiensis produced readings well below 20Hz, lower than the limit of human audibility--classifying it in the range of what is known as "infrasound."
In the animal kingdom, frequencies this low are rarely produced, but can be found in the lowing of the elephant and the deep song of the whale. In both animals, these low-frequency calls are produced at decibel levels approaching that of a thunderclap, and can travel more than 6 km over land. In the water, these sounds can travel thousands.
Most interestingly, however, are the effects such frequencies have on humans. It has been well documented that a tone of 17Hz causes feelings of unease or sorrow, producing chills down the spine or nervous feelings of revulsion or fear. Some believe that infrasound was the cause of the tragedy at Dyatlov Pass, nearly 20 years ago. Furthermore, it is my belief that even certain sightings of ghosts can be attributed to infrasonic sounds--but that is a hypothesis for another time.
My own examination of the vatesnox appalachiensis' vocal system revealed that the syrinx, the equivalent of the mammalian larynx, is greatly elongated for its body size. This alone allows this creature to produce sounds in frequencies below the threshold of human hearing, and which carry for far greater distances than those in higher frequencies.
Evolutionarily speaking, the reason for this ability is as yet unknown to me, but at this time, I suspect that this isolated population is not alone in the Americas. In fact, if recent reports in Cornwall and Italy hold any credence, it is possible that similar species are more widespread than previously believed. If this is the case, long-distance communication between such isolated populations could be necessary for the survival of this and similar species.
In any case, it is clear that, as with many bird species, the location of the syrinx at the divergence of the pulmonary branches means that infrasound can be produced independently of the higher-frequency vocalization. Occasionally, however, these vocalizations overlap, emitting a truly haunting "song".
In nature, however, infrasonic sounds are not only produced by living organisms. Sustained, low-frequency sounds commonly occur as a result of severe weather, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, lightning, and tornadoes. It is believed by many that certain animals can detect these sound waves at great distance, and many species, such as dogs and cats, have been observed fleeing the shorelines hours before deadly tsunamis.
Such sounds are also produced by man-made structures--perhaps, even by unstable eyebars in a certain suspension bridge.
It is my belief that Vatesnox appalachiensis is drawn to disasters like a duck is drawn to a hunter's call. To some observers, it appears as a harbinger of doom, its red eyes and dark silhouette completing a haunting visage.
Even to those who have not seen the creature, its call elicits a sense of deep foreboding in the human psyche, causing nightmares, fear, and even brief hallucinations. Its call produces a sound inaudible to us, and yet we somehow hear, it deep within ourselves.
Drawn out of its normal hiding places, it is likely that appalachiensis took an opportunity to hunt, as the local owner of a german shepherd sadly discovered.
By now, my valued listener, I must beg your indulgence once more. For up to this point, we've discussed the biological systems of a creature that, for the greater part, bears some resemblance to animals with which we're familiar.
I was fortunate enough, however, to observe this creature in its natural habitat. Upon close examination, its methods of locomotion, its vocalization, its appearance, and even its alleged ethereal qualities are relatively easily explained.
Still, it is the creatures' size that gives me pause. Certainly, raptors of great size have been cataloged--Blakiston's fish owl, for example, can reach wingspans of nearly 7 feet, and the Eurasian eagle-owl stands up to 30 inches tall. Neither of these, however, can equal the monstrous ten-foot span of appalachiensis, nor its standing height of nearly 5 feet. Despite its cryptic coloration and impressively stealthful behavior, it would be difficult for a creature of this size to go undocumented for so long.
It is possible that the mothman grew to such a size in response to environmental pressures, such as competition from other raptors, which may have forced it to seek larger prey, thus increasing its size accordingly.
And certainly, the mountains of Appalachia conceal countless secrets. But I cannot shake the feeling that something occurred in this region, just before those now-infamous 13 months. I have yet to ascertain what this might be, but I have rarely found my hunches to be wrong. Still, if this is the first time, I will feel nothing but relief.

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I have documented a great many previously undiscovered creatures, and I am honored to be at the forefront of this important research.
But while legends often speak of these creatures as physical threats to humans, the mothman is unique. Though it instills fear, rarely is it perceived as vicious killer. Instead, it is an omen, a harbinger from another dimension. It is what Horsely calls "an emissary from the Id," a manifestation of Point Pleasant's collective unconscious.
In short, the mothman isn't frightening because it preys on human flesh--rather, it seems to prey on the mind. Though the creature itself is biological corporeality, for humans, it represents not a physical threat, but a threat to reason.
Indeed, it my fear that the mothman represents not only those aspects of the world we don't yet know, or can never know, but in fact, those that we are not allowed to know.

Watch the video here:

Scientific Name

Vatesnox appalachiensis

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