Walk a mile in another man’s skin.

Typical skinwalker.

Booga booga.

It’s time to continue our paranormal cryptid/evil monster mythology. Yesterday, I talked about the legend of the Wendigo; today, let’s tackle another popular monster with a Native American pedigree: the skinwalker.

More than just a mindless werebeast that changes to animal form whenever the moon is full, the skinwalker is instead someone who gains the ability to shapechange through witchcraft. The most plentiful stories come from Navajo lore where skinwalkers are believed to be people who have broken a cultural taboo – much like the wendigo does in Algonquin lore – and gain the ability to change their form into that of an animal.

Do not fuck with any Navajo dressed like this.

The Navajo Witch

In addition to shapechanging, Navajo skinwalkers were all accomplished witches, and not the kind that float around Munchkinland in a big pink bubble, either. No, these witches were specialists in dark magic; that cultural taboo was usually something like murdering a sibling, committing incest, necrophilia, or grave-robbing. In other words, these aren’t your misunderstood gentle nature worshippers – skinwalkers were violent and dark-hearted monsters even before they took the visage of a four-legged creature.

The notable thing about skinwalker lore is that this isn’t ancient history. It’s very hard to uncover modern day stories of skinwalker encounters, especially since most Navajo are reluctant to share these stories with non-Navajo, but there are urban legends that recount skinwalkers causing deadly mischief by banging on the doors and windows of houses late at night in order to terrorize the inhabitants, or even cause car accidents, and not as just an animal but some humanoid hybrid with the head of a coyote. It’s understood that they can mimic the sounds of any animal – or any human being they hear – which can add to the terror.

If only.

Steal her soul, Tina!

The worst and most sinister ability skinwalkers are believed to have is most definitely that of taking on the face and appearance of a specific person. Meeting the gaze of a skinwalker means allowing him into your soul, granting him power over you and allowing him to take your likeness. This usually meant the victim was “disposed of” in some way – and with their already dark reputation,  it’s not uncommon to hear stories of skinwalkers murdering and consuming people before slipping seamlessly into the void left in their lives, sometimes living that way for decades.

The idea of the skinwalker isn’t confined to Navajo territory, though. There are other myths and urban legends that circulate throughout the United States and Canada, and there are some apocryphal stories of viciously territorial “goat-men” that haunt the forests east of the Mississippi. Supposedly sourced from a Menominee myth, the goat-man is different than a Navajo skin-walker in that it was less of a human witch and more of a malevolent spirit, having more in common with the wendigo (it’s important to note that the Menominee are an Algonquian tribe, which is also where the wendigo legend originates).

Goat-man: the Ultimate Cockblocker

Get off my property, assholes.

If anything, goat-men are even more terrifying than skinwalkers. Fiercely territorial, goat-men possess many of the same abilities as a skinwalker – the shapechanging, the mimicry of voices, and even the adoption of human form – but they delight in psychologically torturing any who venture into their lands. Supposedly accompanied by a strong smell of burning blood and ozone in some stories, goat-men stalk those in their territory in the night and purposely disturb the undergrowth, though never enough to reveal their presence clearly to their prey. They gibber in a guttural manner to disorientate and terrorize their prey, then adopt the form of a human to slip in unnoticed to a group of people, often sowing chaos when the group realizes there’s one more person than there should be – and then promptly disappears once there’s another headcount.

If anything, the goat-man presents as even more sinister than a Navajo skinwalker, simply because of the seemingly alien intelligence behind it. A skinwalker, while in possession of the powers of dark witchcraft, is still of human origin. The goat-man by comparison is incomprehensible in its motivations, seemingly only dedicated to preserving its territory by psychologically terrorizing any trespassers. It’s not even limited to the wilderness areas of the Americas, either; much as modern Navajo skinwalker stories exist, there’s folklore for goat-men that take the guise of a hapless victim in order to pass among humans in a more urban area. The only way to tell a goat-man has replaced one of your friends is to watch them for strange behavior such as halting speech, unbroken uncomfortably long stares without blinking, and a complete change in personality seemingly overnight.

Are you spooked yet? Don’t worry – there’ll be more cryptids, supernatural monster myths, and things that go bump in the night to come.


4 thoughts on “Walk a mile in another man’s skin.

  1. Send me links on the Goat-men!

    We actually have two different urban-legends about those in the D/FW area, and I’ve never heard the link back to the Algonquins.



    This, third link, is one to a beer commemorating the white rock lake goatman:


    And, yes, it’s good.

    I’ve been wanting to incorporate Goat-man legends into Jacob Smith, and I’m totally stoked that they’re more common east of the Mississippi. Is the Jersey Devil linked in some way?

    Wow. I sound like a total fucking mythological creature fanboy, don’t I?

    • I need to get me some of that Goatman beer, that looks delicious!

      Here’s one of the best goat-man stories I’ve found, it’s sort of the Rosetta Stone for eastern seaboard sightings. This one takes place in Alabama to be precise. I’ll do some more digging, there’s supposedly a lot of Canadian stories about goat-men as well.


      As for the Jersey Devil, it’s pretty different. Less cunning, more beastlike – and vaguely draconian in appearance, what with the bat wings.

  2. Bah, the Creationist have proven conclusively by using scripture, and the word of god that many of the sightings of the Devil, or goat people/Satyrs etc are really stories of Kangaroos. The facts are as follows:

    The Flood happened, and Kangaroos and Dinosaurs and Dodo birds and all these “Kinds” of animals were on the ark. The ark landed at mt Arafat, and the Kangaroo, and Koala, and Platypus all migrated over hundreds of years from the middle east to Australia via a Land bridge that connected India to Australia (fuck you science for not finding any evidence of it, we all know you are lying to hide god!).

    When Bill Nye Dared to ask why we never find any fossils of them during the debate. Ken Ham correctly schooled Bill that the bible clearly shows there was a flood, and that the reason we don’t see fossils is because fossils are rare, and require rapid burial, and so it is a FACT that the reason we cannot find these fossils is because they didn’t get fossilized… DUH…

    That in fact PROVES creationism by the way… somehow…

    No seriously I am not making this shit up:


    I love the logic at the start of the article… The first time I read it, I blacked out… and was visited by the Spirit of Aristotle who yelled pleadingly at me, in ancient Greek and threw a book with the title Analytica Priora on it… turned it open to a page that said τὸ ἐν ἀρχῇ αἰτεῖσθαι pounded his wrinkled old ghost finger on the page a bunch of times making the What the fuck gesture with his arms, then shook his head… muttered something that sounded like he said “Stupid assholes…” and walked away into the ether, all pissed off throwing his hands into the air.

    I woke up with a Craving for Gyros and promptly went on to youtube to argue with idiot creationists online about Kangaroos (not kidding) for a couple days…

    AAANNNYYYYWWWAAAAAAYYYYY….. I’ve been watching too much Big Bang Theory, so I’m writing all this in Sheldon Coopers voice… I so I better move on to the next blog post I missed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s