In case you missed my appearance on the TV show “Cheddar Reveals” talking about dragons and other monster folklore, you can watch it HERE!
In case you missed my appearance on the TV show “Cheddar Reveals” talking about dragons and other monster folklore, you can watch it HERE!
Looks like there’s a new chupacabra movie coming out, from Jonás Cuarón, son of Alfonso. “The film tells the story of a teenager who visits his family in Mexico and discovers a Chupacabra hiding in his grandfather’s shed. Saving the strange creature will be the goal of the intrepid young man and his cousins.” I hope it’s better than the previous chupa movies. I mean, it can’t *not* be…
Check out the details HERE!
New episode of Squaring the Strange! This month is the 25th anniversary of the emergence of our favorite beastie, the chupacabra! We discuss the past, present, and future of this little vampiric critter . . . as well as disappearing mailboxes and what the media’s “not talking about!”
BONUS: Another episode of “Celebrities Reading Ben’s Hate Mail”!
Check it out HERE!
And for more info on the chupacabra, check out my book!
Of all the world’s cryptozoological curiosities I like the chupacabra the most. I’ve researched Bigfoot, Champ (the lake monster in Lake Champlain), along with Mothman, Lizard Man, the Kraken, and myriad monsters over my career. But the chupacabra is my favorite; I spent five years investigating and writing a book on the beast (Tracking the Chupacabra: The Vampire Beast in Fact, Fiction, and Folklore).
Quite aside from whether or not the creatures literally exist (as vampires feeding on goats, chickens, and livestock throughout the Americas), they exist in popular culture and as folkloric figures. In a previous Skeptical Inquirer article I examined how the chupacabra has been depicted in toys and figurines over time (see below), and recently I turned my attention to the chupacabra’s appearances in television and film. Depictions of the monster in movies are especially ironic, since as described in my book the first eyewitness description of the chupacabra was itself drawn from a Hollywood film, the 1995 sci-fi/horror film Species (and specifically its H.R. Giger-designed monster, Sil).
There are only a dozen or so films and direct-to-video creature features starring the chupacabra as a movie monster, and here I offer a brief look at the little-known Spanish-language gem Ahi Viene El Chupacabras (Here Comes the Chupacabra).
The film begins with an alien spaceship hovering over a city night. The special effects make the first season of TV’s Doctor Who look like Avatar, and the flying saucer resembles a boxy drone. The UFO crashes, resulting in flaming aluminum foil wreckage about the size of a television, and a weird hand reaches in from offscreen to salvage a small shiny silver purse or bag.
The titular “chupacabra” is first seen as a man in a gorilla or Bigfoot suit with bat wings under the arms and gargoyle mask, chasing some goats in the darkness. Soon however he transforms, in apparent werewolf-like fashion, into a naked middle-aged man (Alfonso Zayas, demonstrating mastery of double takes and wacky facial tics). It is in this form—aided by what seems to be a grade schooler’s version of a Star Trek tricorder contained within the silvery bag which, after typing in questions, answers his queries about strange Earth customs—that he explores Earth (or, in this case, Guadalajara, Mexico, where it was filmed).
He befriends a perpetually drunk sidekick (Cesar Bono) who informs the alien chupacabra-turned-gargoyle-faced-gorilla-turned bug-eyed man that his quest to suck the blood from goats is doomed since they are in the city, and there are no goats nearby.
For reasons that are never quite explained, the chupacabra decides that virgin blood is an acceptable substitute, and hilarity ensues as the pair spend the rest of the film searching for virgins and getting into wacky mishaps such as one involving a stripper dancing to the (surely non-copyright cleared) song Spirit in the Sky.
Unbeknownst to them, two scientists (we know their profession, as they wear glasses and lab coats and navigate around dozens of beakers randomly scattered in their one-room laboratory) are on their trail. The female scientist, played by Luz Maria Guizar, is of course a sexless—and as we come to learn, virginal—nerd, until she lets her hair down and is revealed to be a ravishing beauty. In order to protect her from the creepy middle-aged perv—I mean, the bloodthirsty chupacabra—her scientist co-worker selflessly deflowers her in the final scene.
Ahi Viene El Chupacabras is a comedy, not a horror film, and doesn’t even try to take the monster seriously. Along the way we learn that the monster fears bananas (“It’s like kryptonite to Superman!” the chupacabra wails to his inebriated buddy, when confronted with the fruit). There are pratfalls, a Yakety Sax chase sequence, and so on. You get the idea.
The film is tough going for anyone who’s not a fan of campy, low-budget schlock (and/or the style of Mexican sketch comedies such as El Chavo). It is nevertheless interesting from popular culture and cryptozoological perspectives. Perhaps most importantly it’s one of the first films featuring the chupacabra as a monster. Ahi Viene El Chupacabras was released in 1996, a year before the vampiric creature was introduced to English-speaking audiences in an episode of The X-Files (see below).
Of course the film is entirely devoid of anything resembling what would come to be recognized as a chupacabra. This is likely due to several reasons including the low budget; since an actor is cheaper than a costume or monster makeup and special effects, if you have a strange monster than can assume human form for most of its screen time, you do it. The transformation theme also appears in Species, in which the alien monster, Sil, is female and portrayed in human form by Canadian model Natasha Henstridge.
Because in 1996 the public’s conception of what a chupacabra looked like (and what it does, beyond the obvious caprine exsanguination described by its name) was in its infancy, the film’s monster resembles neither the original version seen in 1995 Puerto Rico (a bipedal, alien-looking, spikey-backed creature) nor the later (post-2000) canid versions (hairless dogs and coyotes) that came to dominate the imagery.
The film is also notable for—in what is perhaps the only other parallel to the film Species—clearly identifying the chupacabra as an extraterrestrial, and outer space as its origin. This reflects the real origin stories that circulated in Puerto Rico (and eventually throughout Latin America) following the chupacabra’s first appearance.
I’ll examine other chupacabra-related films in future articles, so check back later. Until then, make sure your goats are secured!
For my Russian-speaking friends, I present my appearance on a Russian television show talking about monster folklore. Though Moscow paid for it, I promise my part (around 19 minutes in) is not Putin’s dezinformatsiya, and I got no Shill Rubles for it!
You can see it HERE!
As my awesome podcast Squaring the Strange (co-hosted by Pascual Romero and Celestia Ward) nears its three-year anniversary, I will be posting episode summaries from the past year to remind people some of the diverse topics we’ve covered on the show, ranging from ghosts to folklore to mysteries and topical skepticism. If you haven’t heard it, please give a listen!
I was recently on “Expedition Unknown” with Josh Gates on the Discovery Channel, talking about my chupacabra research in Puerto Rico. Watch for dead fowl, vampire legends, and roaches!
You can find it HERE!
I’ve been quoted in countless publications from the New York Times to Ladies Home Journal, but I’ve finally made it! I’m referenced as “one guy” in a new GQ article:
I recently came across a blog by a fellow cryptozoology writer, Nick Redfern, which began with a well-deserved rant about armchair debunkers. The shabby state of research into Fortean topics is widely acknowledged by skeptics—and some “believers” (for lack of a better word).
In this particular case it was unnamed “debunkers” that he vented some spleen towards: “If there’s one thing, more than any other, that annoys me in the field of paranormal research, it’s an armchair researcher of the debunking kind. Time and time again I have heard the debunkers loudly assert (often in high-pitched, whiny voices, and with their arms firmly folded) that the chupacabra simply cannot, and does not, exist.”
I should note at this point that I may be one of the “debunkers” he’s referring to, as I spent five years investigating the chupacabra; the result was my 2011 book Tracking the Chupacabra: The Vampire Beast in Fact, Fiction, and Folklore, published by the University of New Mexico Press. (For the record, I have never claimed that the chupacabra cannot exist, merely that overwhelming evidence suggests it does not.)
As to these armchair debunkers, he asks: “How do they know? Well, actually, they don’t know. Have they personally visited Puerto Rico? For the most part, no, they have not. Have they sat down opposite a witness and actually spoken to them? Nope: Hardly more than the barest occasion. What they have done is to secure their data from that bastion of truth and reliability known as the Internet…. As to why the debunkers piss me off so much, it’s not just as a result of their lazy approach and attitude. It’s because by not actually visiting the places in question, and speaking with the people on the ground, they are missing out on a wealth of untapped data that simply cannot be found by just opening Google and typing in the words ‘Puerto Rico + chupacabra.’”
I, too, share his annoyance with armchair researchers (of all stripes, especially those who monger mysteries and can’t be bothered to check facts and do more than a superficial analysis). Field investigation is indeed important, and has helped me solve countless mysteries that I would not have been able to do via laptop or from the comfort of my armchair. That’s one reason why I traveled extensively for my chupacabra research, not only in New Mexico and Texas, but also as far as the jungles of Nicaragua. I also made multiple trips to Puerto Rico, interviewing dozens of first-hand eyewitnesses and experts, doing archival research, and so on.
He uses the following example: “A perfect case in point: if the chupacabra is a real creature, ask the naysayers, then why did it suddenly surface out of nowhere in 1995? Well, actually, it didn’t. Yes, it did, they reply; the Internet says so. Well, yes, the Internet does say that. But try speaking to the locals [who admit] that, yes, those emotive words—chupacabra and goat-sucker—were relatively new. No one disputed that. They added, however, that blood-sucking monstrosities of vampire-like proportions had been reported across the island not just for years but for decades; at least since the 1970s.”
I’m not a fan of believing whatever “the internet” says, but in this case it’s not me believing the internet so much as the internet believing me. Tracking the Chupacabra was the first book to establish that the beast first appeared in 1995 (and why). I’m sure there are some whiny-voiced, arm-crossed pouty armchair debunkers who couldn’t find Puerto Rico on a map insisting that the chupacabra suddenly surfaced in 1995, but they’re referencing my work and conclusions, and I stand by them. There seems to be not a single printed reference to a vampiric “chupacabra” in Puerto Rico or anywhere else before 1995; the word was coined soon after the first sighting in August 1995. No one suggests that the chupacabra “surfaced out of nowhere,” as I make very clear in my research; it surfaced in that year due to several factors, most prominent among them the release of the sci-fi film Species; see chapter 7 in my book for a full explanation.
This is, however, a nuanced argument and I’m happy to explain and clarify. It’s not complicated, but does require taking a little deeper analysis.
Yes, Virginia, the Chupacabra Dates to 1995
No one disputes that vampire reports and legends are a global phenomenon; that’s why my book begins with a chapter on vampires around the world, ranging from ancient Mesopotamia to revenant vampires in Middle Ages Europe (the kind who were staked in their coffins by fearful villagers) to vampire varieties in Africa and South America. Those vampires had different characteristics and went by many different names.
These typically emerge from specific regions and locations (the likichiri in Bolivia, for example, is not the strigoi in Romania, and so on). They’re all subtypes of vampires, but they are separate and distinct; they are not the same thing, and we confuse them (or lump them together) at our peril. Thus we can accurately say that the chupacabra did indeed suddenly emerge in Puerto Rico in 1995; or, if you prefer a more technically accurate version, that “a type of vampire called the chupacabra, with several distinct characteristics associated with it, both at the time and later” was first reported in 1995.
Were there earlier (pre-1995) reports of vampires, both in Puerto Rico and around the world? Of course there were; everyone knows this. It’s not accurate to assert that because a vampire had been reported on the island before 1995, that the chupacabra, specifically, had been reported—or that they were (or must have been) the same thing. They were not.
The Vampire of Moca: Early Chupacabra?
Let us return to the example of the pre-chupacabra Puerto Rican vampire Redfern offers. The famous “vampire” cited as a predecessor to the chupacabra relates to attacks in the city of Moca in 1975 and references his time spent there with a TV crew. Redfern mentions a report of a woman clawed by “what she described as a fearful-looking beast covered in feathers,” and also “a huge, winged monster” that landed on a home’s roof. It’s all suitably dramatic, but a very different beast than the one that would be described and named some two decades later on the other side of the island—which was rarely, if ever, described as having a feather-covered body or wings (nor for that matter, was it “huge”). When I interviewed the original chupacabra eyewitness she described it as a small (three-foot) humanlike figure with long arms and legs and alienlike, wraparound eyes and spikes down its back (see illustration below); later incarnations after 2000 were canid (such as coyotes and foxes).
A huge, feathered “chupacabra” does not match descriptions from 1995 (with the exception of spine spikes with featherlike striations). Plus the earlier creature already had a name: El Vampiro de Moca, the Moca Vampire.
I had also visited Moca during my research, in the interest of leaving no vampire story unturned. There’s simply no clear link between the Vampire of Moca and the chupacabra. Not only are the descriptions different, but the Moca incident was not the first example of “mysterious” predation in Puerto Rico. Furthermore, if the Moca Vampire and the chupacabra are the same animal, then it is hard to understand the creature’s two-decade fast between meals. It makes no sense that a “goatsucker” would kill a handful of animals with perhaps a gallon of blood between them in 1975 and then vanish for twenty years before suddenly reappearing and deciding to resume its quest for blood. (As I note in Tracking the Chupacabra, a nearly identical “chupacabra-like” incidents occurred a year earlier, in 1974 Nebraska and South Dakota. Eyewitnesses reported seeing “a monster-thing,” presumably having attacked cattle and drained their blood.) He’s incorrectly lumping the two phenomenon into one.
Claiming that the chupacabra existed before 1995 merely because there were earlier vampire reports is like saying that the Fouke Monster existed before the 1950s (when it was first reported)—or that the Honey Island Swamp monster existed before 1963 (when it was first sighted)—because Bigfoot reports (allegedly) date back a century or so earlier.
This is not a pedantic “debunker” argument, but instead a key lesson in cryptozoology. In their book The Field Guide to Bigfoot, Yeti, and Other Mystery Primates Worldwide, Loren Coleman and Patrick Huyghe lament a common mistake in cryptozoological research, a “lumping problem,” that is, that myriad sightings of different, distinct creatures are lumped together under more general names such as Bigfoot or Yeti. This, they write, is a problem because it “hides a larger truth, lumps considerable differences, and just plain confuses the picture.” Lumping the chupacabra with the Moca Vampire is precisely the fundamental error Coleman and Huyghe describe.
As a comparison, Bigfoot (generically, as an unknown, hairy, bipedal hominid) reports existed before the Bigfoot-like Honey Island Swamp Monster was first reported in 1963, but that doesn’t logically mean that Honey Island Swamp Monster was described (or existed as its own entity) before 1963. The Fouke Monster can fairly be said to have first appeared in the 1950s; Mothman can fairly be said to have first appeared in 1966, and so on. For the same reason, the chupacabra can fairly be said to have first appeared in 1995. It’s not complicated.
So when I (and the internet, when it quotes me) say that the chupacabra first appeared in 1995, that is completely accurate: The chupacabra—as a specific variety of vampire unique to Puerto Rico—was first seen, named, and described in 1995. Not 1994, not 1985, not 1870. The true story of the chupacabra story is fascinating enough—involving conspiracy theories, vampires, creationists, and science fiction thrillers—without adding on myths and misinformation.
I was recently in Puerto Rico shooting an episode of “Expedition Unknown.”
I can’t give many details before the show airs, but here’s a photo of me with host Josh Gates interviewing an eyewitness to something weird….
On Squaring the Strange: Bad Cryptozoological Arguments! There’s a lot of fertile ground here that can be tilled in the name of learning how to spot bad arguments in other walks of life. Let’s look at how squatchers and lake-monster enthusiasts back up their claims and shut down skeptics (or do theyyyyy?) With a few special guests!
You can listen to the episode HERE!
I was recently interviewed by KRQE News on the topic of the Aztec UFO crash, a topic I covered in my award-winning book Mysterious New Mexico!
You can see the video HERE.
In the latest in a series highlighting past episodes and archives of Squaring the Strange, here’s a look back at a show you might have missed:
Ben and Pascual first touch on last week’s Vegas shooting, particularly the misinformation that was circulated afterward—not conspiracy theories (which could be a whole show later), but rather the false assertions made by talking heads mentioning the event in service of fighting a larger social problem. While it’s understandable that people want to make legitimate points about gun violence or mental health or racism, it undermines advocacy when statements are demonstrably false. Pascual looks at messages of surprise from news outlets and does a rundown of the motives (if found) of previous shooters. Then the guys turn to el chupacabra, the Latin American beast that appeared on the cryptid scene around the early 90s. Origin stories for the vampiric creature abounded, from being an extraterrestrial set on spreading blood diseases to a secret government experiment to a foretold beast of God’s wrath. Ben brings context to the folklore, explaining how the beast was genuinely terrifying and serious to impoverished ranchers and farmers living in rural Puerto Rico, for whom losing any livestock was a crippling tragedy. The chupacabra also has the distinction of being the first monster myth spread by the internet. Slowly, the chupacabra myth morphed from a truly terrifying exotic beast never glimpsed to a more mundane creature resembling a canid, as carcasses found far and wide were said to be dead chupacabras.
You can hear it HERE.
I was recently a guest on the Crypto-Kid podcast, discussing the chupacabra in-depth with host Colin Schneider and Nick Redfern. Good discussion if you like monsters, folklore, and my favorite vampire, you can listen HERE!
Episode 27 of Squaring the Strange is up! To begin our creepy Halloween lineup, Pascual and I talk about the world’s best-known cryptozoological vampire, el chupacabra! The beast has lost its bite over the years, but we go back to the late 1990s when it terrified many in Puerto Rico and elsewhere…
We also talk briefly media coverage of the Vegas shooting, and as usual, a two-minute skeptical fortune cookie! You can listen to it HERE.
Hurricane Maria’s devastation continues in Puerto Rico… As The New York Times reported, “Daybreak in Puerto Rico on Thursday exposed the crushing devastation wrought by Hurricane Maria — splintered homes, crumbled balconies, uprooted trees and floodwaters coursing through streets. The storm cut a path through the island on Wednesday and 100 percent of the territory remained without power. Officials predicted that it could take months to restore electricity as rescue brigades ventured out to assess the toll of death and injury. Maria had entered Puerto Rico’s southeast side on Wednesday with category 4 winds of 155 miles per hour, then lost strength, regained power Thursday and continued its furious roll northward, bringing pounding rains and heavy winds to the Dominican Republic.”
Hurricanes are well known in the region, but lesser known is how another devastating storm twenty-eight years ago, Hurricane Hugo, helped spawn the world’s most famous cryptozoological vampire: the chupacabra.
In 1989 Hugo killed a dozen people in Puerto Rico and devastated the island’s crops; banana and coffee exports were nearly entirely destroyed. Estimates of the damage reached $1 billion, as tens of thousands of Puerto Ricans were left homeless by the wind and flooding. The hurricane left a lasting legacy on the island, and was still very much in the Puerto Rican consciousness six years later when the chupacabra first emerged.
In Puerto Rico I interviewed the original chupacabra eyewitness, Madelyne Tolentino, and asked her where she believed the monster came from. Tolentino responded, “Look, a journalist told me that El Yunque [jungle wildlife refuge in Puerto Rico, said to be the chupacabra’s origin] was allegedly closed down because of the damage caused by Hurricane Hugo. He told me that the truth was that some experiment had escaped—not monkeys or anything like that. They never found those creatures. The journalist… knows a lot about it, because he’s been researching this for a while.”
This explanation, shared by the tabloid media, is widely accepted among Puerto Ricans, that the US government created the chupacabra in a secret laboratory, in a clandestine genetics experiment gone horribly wrong, a sort of Frankenstein-like conspiracy theory. As I discuss in my book Tracking the Chupacabra, there are clear and significant parallels between the chupacabra’s origin and that of the monster Sil in the 1995 film Species. Species—whose first scene is set in rural Puerto Rico—begins with a genetics experiment, led by scientist Xavier Fitch (Ben Kingsley). He has injected alien DNA sequence into human eggs; most died, but one was allowed to grow into a seemingly normal human child called Sil. But Fitch aborts the experiment when Sil begins aging at a fantastic rate, and during REM sleep, alien spikes emerge from the girl’s spine. He reluctantly decides to kill Sil, fearing that the experiment may soon grow out of control—and it does. Sil escapes the building and out into the wilderness to prey.
The most popular theory about where the chupacabra might have been able to live undetected for all those years (except for rare appearances sucking goats and chickens) is in the El Yunque rainforest on the eastern end of the island. Given the thick vegetation this theory might seem plausible, except that El Yunque, though a sizeable park at 28,000 acres, is also the most popular tourist spot in Puerto Rico, attracting over one million visitors each year. That’s an average of nearly three thousand tourists walking and hiking in El Yunque every day, and more than eighty thousand each month.
Yet apparently not a single tourist reported seeing, photographing, or being attacked by a chupacabra (nor, to my knowledge, finding the alleged chupacabra victim carcasses that would presumably litter the rainforest floor). It beggars belief to think that one or more chupacabras managed to live for years in such a heavily traveled area without ever being discovered or leaving traces of their existence. (The top-secret genetics lab where the chupacabra was said to have been created has never been found either.)
Legends (and particularly urban legends) incorporate regionally specific and accurate place names as they evolve. For example a generic story about a woman’s tragic suicide, or the spot of a gang initiation attack, will change from place to place. The details in each local version will include specific actual locations and even reference real historical figures. This process lends credibility to the stories and legends, making them more salient and likely to be shared.
Hurricane Hugo was only one of several factors that helped spawn the chupacabra legend, but the storm played a key role in the creature’s pseudohistorical folklore, the public’s understanding of where the creature came from, and why it suddenly appeared in Puerto Rico.
Did you see my appearance on MSNBC talking about the theoretical effects of climate change on Bigfoot and the chupacabra?
You can watch it HERE!
Thought I’d share a minor victory: A man who e-mailed me last week saying “My employee and myself spotted a Chupcabra yesterday afternoon in Vacaville, CA, a hairless cat/dog with a stubby tail and narrow body and head. A friend later that day showed me on the internet this Chupacabra and I recognized it as the same critter.” I diplomatically suggested that he seemed to be describing a mangy animal, expecting to be ignored in favor of a sexy mystery. This morning he followed up: “I spoke with a local critter guy who told me that what I saw was probably a Bob cat or Lynx with mange. That is why I saw no hair or fur on the critter. It still looked very creepy.”
Indeed; if these animals were easy to identify, there wouldn’t be a mystery…
A researcher claimed that the chupacabra can be traced back to legends of the nightjar bird. I respectfully disagreed, which he then responded to, and which I then replied to. If you want to see two educated adults (one of them right and one of them wrong) kick each other’s intellectual and metaphorical shins like kids on a playground over folkloric details of a mythical monster’s naming and origin, here’s your chance!
Following up on my book Tracking the Chupacabra: The Vampire Beast in Fact, Fiction, and Folklore, I have occasionally written about varied speculativepseudohistories of the chupacabra, and indeed the subject is ripe for conjecture.
In a blog titled “The Secret Prehistory of the Chupacabra,” Jason Colavito writes that “the chupacabra name derives from 2,300 years of European and American traditions about nocturnal creatures that prey on livestock. And it all started with a small, completely harmless little bird.”
Colavito notes, correctly in my estimation, that “The first chupacabra was not a monster, nor was it a vampire. Originally, the goatsucker was so named not because the creature sucked blood like a vampire but because it sucked milk directly from the teat. The legend originates in a story told about the European nightjar (genus Caprimulgus), a smallish, nocturnal, and insectivorous bird that inexplicably developed a bad reputation, earning it the name ‘goatsucker.’ The first author to record this story is Aristotle, in his History of Animals, written around 350 BCE.”
So far so good; we agree that a small bird named chupacabra–like a great many birds around the world including owls, ravens, doves, etc.–had folkloric associations, in this case that it suckled goat milk. Where we part ways is in seeing clear links between the subject of my book and the bird of lore. I briefly discuss the goatsucker bird in the first chapter of my book (see page 4). The chupacabra monster is very specifically a vampire: it sucks blood from its victims. The “goat sucker” bird that shares its name instead sucks milk from goats, which is a different theme–there are few reports of surviving chupacabra victims, as the monster’s actions are typically said to be lethal. Also the word chupacabra (as specifically describing the subject of my book) was, from all indications referred specifically to rumors of goats being killed and drained of blood in rural Puerto Rico, not to the milk-drinking whippoorwill bird.
The best evidence is that the word chupacabra was first coined by San Juan-based radio deejay Silverio Pérez in late 1995 live while commenting on then-circulating rumors and tabloid stories about strange attacks on the island. I have been unable to find any pre-1995 references to a blood-sucking chupacabra in Puerto Rico or anywhere else–despite a standing $1,000 reward for any verifiable, published pre-1990s reference to a vampiric chupacabra–and Colavito offers none.
Colavito does an admirable job of tracing the linguistic lineage: “The name, in its now-obsolete Spanish form chotacabra, was in common use in Spanish America (including Puerto Rico) from at least the nineteenth century (and probably many centuries earlier), changing to chupacabra in the twentieth century when the older Spanish verb chotar (to suck) became obsolete and gave way to the newer synonym chupar… the nightjar is native to Puerto Rico, and I have been able to find printed references to the bird on the island as ‘chotacabra’ dating back to at least 1948….The change from the obsolete form chotacabra to the modern form chupacabra, reflecting changes in colloquial Spanish, masked the connection, leading to recent claims that the word did not exist prior to 1995.” Colavito does not account for (or glosses over) the notable absence of chupacabra (as referring to the now-familiar vampiric monster, not the bird) between the time that “chotar” became “chupar” and the eve of this century.
For those who missed it and are interested in spending an entertaining and informative–or at least minimally objectionable–75 minutes, may I suggest the most recent episode of The Folklore Podcast, in which we discuss folklore of the chupacabra…
Soon after my recent appearance discussing folklore of the chupacabra (the topic of my book Tracking the Chupacabra: The Vampire Beast in Fact, Fiction, and Folklore), I got the following e-mail from a listener named James:
“I thought your appearance on The Folklore Podcast was very interesting and informative. It inspired me to search about chupacabras. One thing I came up with was about ‘Goat suckers’ and chotacabras. Too bad that I only have the 1997 version of the 1985 book The Jealous Potter by Claude Lévi-Strauss, but it sounds like there were a lot of myths/folklore about goat suckers in the folklore. Is there a reason you did not reference this in your book?”
I replied, “Thanks for reaching out to me, it’s good to hear from you. I’m glad you liked the Folklore Podcast interview, it was fun! Your question is a good one. I actually do briefly discuss the goatsucker bird in the first chapter of my book Tracking the Chupacabra (see page 4).
The chupacabra monster is very specifically a vampire: it sucks blood from its victims. The “goat sucker” bird that shares its name instead sucks milk from goats, which is a very different theme (there are few if any reports of surviving chupacabra victims, as the monster’s actions are said to be lethal). Also the word chupacabra (as specifically describing the subject of my book) was, from all indications, coined in 1995 and referred specifically to rumors of goats being killed and drained of blood in rural Puerto Rico, not to the milk-drinking whippoorwill bird.
The main reason I didn’t go into much discussion about it is that as Levi-Strauss notes, stories about the bird are very diverse and difficult to classify (involving deities, marital jealousy, etc.). Other than one passing reference to a Tunuka Indian myth, there’s little or no vampiric aspect to it. As far as I know that’s the only reference to such blood sucking in The Jealous Potter, and in the quoted passage the attack is done by ghosts (souls of the dead), not the flesh-and-blood animal said to live on the island. Ghost folklore is interesting but not really relevant to the chupacabra I researched.
The coining of the word is, from my research, almost certainly a coincidence (chupacabra is an obvious coinage to describe anything said to prey on goats, regardless of its origin or nature). I suppose I could have added a few more sentences about the goat milk-drinking bird myths but since it wasn’t directly relevant to the chupacabra I was writing about (a supposedly real terrifying blood-sucking monster), I didn’t want to take the reader too far off track. I hope that answers your question, and I appreciate The Jealous Potter reference, which I missed!”
A new article on BBC-Earth discusses my five-year investigation into the mysterious vampire beast El Chupacabra; if you’re interested in how I solved one of the world’s best-known monster mysteries, check it out HERE!
You can find more on me and my work with a search for “Benjamin Radford” (not “Ben Radford”) on Vimeo.
I recently found my original idea for the cover art for my book “Tracking the Chupacabra: The Vampire Beast in Fact, Fiction, and Folklore.” I wanted something interesting and evocative, and my publisher UNM Press did a great job on it. Below is my original sketch, and the final cover:
You can find more on me and my work with a search for “Benjamin Radford” (not “Ben Radford”) on Vimeo.
A new article on Gizmodo about monsters references my chupacabra research: “Other descriptions peg it as looking like a wild dog with a pronounced spinal ridge. Skeptical investigator Benjamin Radford went in-depth into the legend of the chupacabra, and concluded that many sightings were actually dogs or coyotes with mange, which contributes to their strange appearance…” You can read it HERE!
You can find more on me and my work with a search for “Benjamin Radford” (not “Ben Radford”) on Vimeo.
There’s a YouTube video that’s been around since 2014 about my chupacabra research, though I only recently got around to watching it. It’s a little slow and amateurish, but a decent and concise summary; you can see it HERE. Of me he says, “I think [Ben Radford’s] done a great job and as far as I’m concerned he has solved the chupacabra mystery.”
I am quoted in a chapter on werewolves in a new book about horror writing and Stephen King! I haven’t seen it yet, but that’s what The Google is telling me! I’ll have to check it out soon!
Late last year I recorded about a dozen short (1-2 minute) segments for a NPR station on various skeptical subjects. Here are five of the audio segments now available on YouTube, on the subject of the chupacabra. You can find them HERE.
In reviewing my shelf of ghost hunting books for a book chapter I’m writing I noted that the author of two 2011 books on ghosts and ghost hunting writes that she “is new to the paranormal community, having entered field investigation in 2008.” Doing a bit of math and knowing the lead time it takes for a book to be edited and published, I realized that she could not have had more than three years of experience (and probably closer to two) before she felt like she knew enough about ghost hunting to proclaim herself an expert and write two books on the topic. I needed at least five years to become an expert on the chupacabra, which is a far narrower subject. Ghost hunting books are rife with self-proclaimed experts whose experience is watching TV and taking ghost tours…
I’ll be giving a presentation on my chupacabra investigation to the Albuquerque SciFi Society on October 9 at 7:30 PM; the origin of the chupacabra has interesting origins with H.R. Giger and the film “Species.” You can find out more HERE.
Had a great time speaking at this year’s Bubonicon as this years guest Science Speaker discussing my chupacabra research (which, if you’re familar with it, you know has an interesting link to H.R. Giger and a certain science fiction/horror film). A good turnout, interested and intelligent crowd, and good questions. Always fun!
I’ll be the guest science speaker tonight at Albuquerque’s Bubonicon science fiction/fantasy conference, speaking about solving the chupacabra mystery and its connection to sci-fi movies. Check it out HERE!
I’m finishing an interesting article on the pseudohistories of the chupacabra: The Hispanic vampire turns 20 this month and was created in large part by the 1995 film “Species.” However those who believe the monster exists have offered a wide variety of completely fictional “true” histories of the chupacabra… Look for it in an upcoming issue of Skeptical Inquirer magazine!
I was recently a guest on the ParaTruth Radio show discussing several of my investigations including my chupacabra research… you can find it HERE.
An audio recording of me reading the first chapter from my book “Tracking the Chupacabra” is available for free on my web site HERE. Did they edit out my profanity and overheated Shatner-esque delivery? Find out!