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We live, you and I, in a spectacular world. There's no shortage of biological marvels to behold: Translucent fish with organs visible from the outside. Furry little mammals that climb the skies on long, webbed fingers. A fungus that spans nearly four square miles and weighs many thousands of tons. The blue whale, the largest animal to have ever lived, which feeds on tiny crustaceans that swarm in oceanic clouds. This is to name but a select few.
What say we to such wonders?
NOT ENOUGH!
Cryptozoology is the human endeavor to improve on God’s works by adding height and horns to creatures we consider deficient in such things. Bigfoot, crypto-z’s poster boy, for example, answers the pressing question: What if an ape was bigger, and somewhere it probably shouldn’t be? This concept, considered a strong one in homo sapien culture, has inspired fan clubs, merchandise, literature, untold hours of video content, and, in some cases, severe mental illness.
An alien observer of humanity might ask: “What’s so special about Bigfoot? Just yesterday, I saw a reptile that can change the color of its skin on a whim, wielding its tongue like a grappling hook. The day before that, I saw a massive gray beast that uses its nose like an arm. Yet you dream of a discolored American gorilla. Why?”
Our response to that alien would be to kill it, preserve it in formaldehyde, and arrange a press conference. Call it species bias on my end, but I do wager that we’re the strangest critters on earth. We’re at least the only ones to have harnessed the power of abstract thought to generate such institutions as France, escrow services, and the Miami Sound Machine. This makes me feel sort of proud and patriotic, in the “species” sense. Who’s doing it like us?
With that said, I aim today to celebrate cryptids, those inventions of my whimsical race, those folk heroes that battle so bravely against that most vile of human foes: Reason. I also want, in the grand human tradition, to force them to compete until there’s a winner. But how might I judge such creatures? Not on believability alone, that’s for sure. It’s a factor, but a cryptid is more than “what’s plausible.” A cryptid gets the imagination going, inspires curiosity and even fear. A cryptid takes us to the peripheries of our knowledge, asks us to stand perfectly still, to watch, to listen, to believe. A good cryptid is a bit like a good story. It hooks you.
But I need a working criteria, or else I open the floodgates to all sorts of fantastical creatures of ridiculous and unserious origins, like Slenderman (an internet forum), or the Argentina Gnome (Argentina). So let’s say the following: To qualify as a cryptid, there must be “evidence” of some kind. Sightings, we call them in the community. Broad fantasy elements, like “dragons,” will be discounted, unless they have, say, a US state’s name in front of them. “Unicorn,” in other words, wouldn’t feature, but “the Nebraska Unicorn” would be more than welcome.
My evaluations will be taking all of the following into account: Anatomy, available photographs, design, lore, voting history, charisma, sex appeal, X-factor, contributions to hyper-local and underrepresented communities, and my mood today. Let’s begin.
Bottom-Tier / Hunt it for Sport, See if I Care
Spring-Heeled Jack
I looked forward to excluding Spring-Heeled Jack. He’s clearly some unwell Victorian man, more of a Who than a What. But Spring-Heeled Jack boasts an unusual number of sightings, and comes up semi-regularly in cryptid conversations. There were apparently people who believed in him, and he’s sometimes depicted in a more creaturely way, sans boots and cape. His deal is that he’s able to bound from building to building in a single leap, and delights in spooking people. I’d like to catch Spring-Heeled Jack in a glue trap and dispose of him. “British guy in my periphery that slightly unnerves me” is actually how I feel about several evidence-based entities in the UK, so he’s kind of mundane.
Batsquatch
I do like the Batsquatch origin story. Sightings began in Washington State following the eruption of Mt. Saint Helens in the 80s. I’m a sucker for a “natural disaster + weird creature” pairing! But the name “Batsquatch” does it no favors. It feels like putting a hat on a hat, or a bat on a squatch. The novelty reminds me of, like, Cocaine Bear or Sharknado. I would struggle to take Batsquatch deathly seriously in the mixed company of a Batsquatch enthusiast meeting, and that’s a significant hurdle for me, thus the low ranking.
Montauk Monster
In 2008, in Montauk, New York, a strange creature washed ashore. It was discovered by one Jenna Hewitt, who snapped a photo of the thing. This photo became the basis of a brief media sensation that resulted in the Montauk Monster. The Montauk Monster makes me sad. It’s obviously a bloated, decomposed raccoon carcass or something. Even if it were a monster, it wouldn’t be one that inspired awe. I feel I could deliver a powerful kick to its ribs if it threatened me, and then go back to my cucumber sandwiches or whatever on the beach.
Not Deer
Horror story: What if you thought you were looking at a deer, but it turned out to be not a deer? The Not Deer is a recently-invented cryptid, a creature of TikTok, and a chilling reminder that we’re forgetting how to read and write. A Not Deer might have sharp teeth or front-facing eyes like a predator, or even human hands. I can’t say I’m overly impressed. That said, there is something I like about the Not Deer. I like when something we consider to be harmless and mundane is, upon closer inspection, revealed to be dangerous. That’s what I think about TikTok!
Cactus Cat
Cactus Cat falls into the “sure, why not” category of cat-related cryptids. It’s a cat that looks like a cactus. I think some kid wanted to make a Pokémon, but things shook out a bit differently. I would endorse naming one (1) coffee shop in Arizona “Cactus Cat” with a faux-taxidermied version of the creature sitting on the counter or something. I think that would be nice and I would probably sit in such a coffee shop and use their wifi for several hours. Anything beyond that feels like too much time and effort spent on Cactus Cat.