Tales and hysteria about the "blood-sucker" monster have captivated news audiences in Mexico, Puerto Rico, and now the United States. The legend of the chupacabras is closely linked to religious mysticism, reports of UFOs, aliens, and apocalypse

Even Joe Friday would find the facts about the chupacabras elusive and ambiguous, and as with other reports of paranormal or mystical events, there is the profound chasm between truth and anticipation. Believers in the chupacabras say that the beast is a hybrid creature, in appearance something which resembles a cross between a giant dog and a lizard. It is said to walk upright on two feet, is capable of flight, and sinks its fangs into victims and kills them by drinking their blood. News reports of chupacabras sightings come from mostly rural areas; and while the mysterious creature seems to prefer farm animals like sheep, goats, and chickens, it has been alleged to attack humans. 

"Myth or reality?" mused CNN during a blitz of reports about the antics of the blood-sucker. For medical experts, the puncture wounds found on some dead animals weren't the work of a cryptic life form that Darwin and his successors happened to overlook while back-tracking along the evolutionary highway. Many suggest that the monster is really a wolf or coyote, fairly common in many of the areas which appear to have spawned chupacabras reports. And for some, the tale about this elusive monster has many similarities to the "cattle-mutilation scare" of the late 1970s and 1980s. 

Those reports also came from rural areas, mostly in the United States, and involved claims that cattle were being killed and surgically dissected. Often, it was reported that the animals had been drained of all blood -- some thing similar to the condition of the chupacabras' victims. There was a variety of theories to explain this bizarre phenomenon, but critics were quick to point out that nothing unusual was taking place, save for the persistent interest of news media, and some outrageous, inaccurate, and unverified claims. The "dissected" cattle had simply been attacked by natural predators whose sharp claws, beaks, and teeth usually left precise-cut-like tears in the prey. Some of the "mutilated" cattle had been dead for long periods, and often a thorough autopsy on the remains was difficult, or not done. Any epidemic of attacks could be caused by natural predators reacting to changes in their own food sources; a decline in the numbers of naturally available prey, such as deer or other animals, could send predators roaming out of their usual terrain into farm and ranching areas. 

The cattle-mutilation phenomenon often existed as a media event. News organizations paid considerable attention to reports at first, but then failed to follow-up on the less glamorous results of official investigations, autopsies (when possible), and other probes. 

A Number of scenarios were conjured to explain the "mysterious" mutilations. Originally, they were seen as evidence of a mysterious government operation which required organs, tissue, and blood for bizarre biological experiments. But there was a disturbing problem. Often, reports noted that there were no tire tracks, footprints, or other traces of human activity around the animal carcasses. Mutilation enthusiasts then proposed that whoever had embarked on a career of night-time animal abuse was using helicopters, or extended-lift "cherry picker" vehicles in order to not leave tracks. 

By the 1980s, the legend about cattle mutilation had evolved to even more sophisticated and fantastic heights. The killings were blamed on secret, satanic cults which used the body parts in devil-worship rituals. Indeed, it was claimed that the removal of specific parts from the animals, such as the eyes, lips, ear, and anus were "proof" of this. Critics noted that these organs were generally softer and more accessible to natural predators. And why would a cult or government agency (presumable one wealthy enough to afford helicopters or enormous utility vehicles) go to such lengths? Why didn't the devil-worshipping, mutant-making crazies just purchase a cattle ranch? 

Who might find it difficult to walk into the local land office and pay cash for a tidy spread of ranch land? Aliens. Soon, the cattle mutilations were being associated with mysterious lights in the sky -- UFOs. Were blood and organs necessary for a strange alien experiment? Was Elsie the Cow sufficient excuse for an advanced race of space-faring beings to expend huge resources crossing interstellar space? Perhaps those pointy-headed scientists who directed giant radio telescopes at distant stars should have been broadcasting "Old McDonald Had a Farm" instead of mathematical codes. 

Tales of animal-abusing aliens developed on the fringes of American culture and then spread to other countries, including Japan, through the subculture of flying-saucer believers. Bizarre accounts of alien abduction, sexual experimentation, and genetic manipulation began to emerge, and not just on the afternoon talk-show circuit. These stories attracted the interest of certain psychologists who had already thoroughly tapped the market in "ritual child abuse." If a patient's emotional problems weren't the result of sexual abuse at the hands of a pedophile ring or satanic cult (often with mom and dad participating), perhaps aliens were to blame. Currently about 2% of Americans believe that they may be victims of alien abductions; they report experiences of being transported out of their bedrooms at night into a strange setting (presumably an alien craft) and subjected to horrifying medical procedures. There are stories of sexual encounters, anal rape, and hybrid births. 

In the talk shows and television specials which have transmitted legends about satanic cults, mutilated cattle, and over-sexed aliens, skeptics and other critics rarely have had an opportunity to ask questions about these claims, or to suggest more prosaic and realistic explanations as to what might really be taking place. Talk-show guests continue to insist that they have been impregnated by spacemen, abused by cults as "satanic baby breeders," or implanted with strange, alien devices. Millions are still tuning in and believing. 

Fears about such horrors, though, are often exhibited in a wider context of social anxiety and uncertainty about the future. The claims about mutilated cattle often originated in economically depressed regions. Fears of satanic cults on the loose and seeking to abduct young, virginal children often thrive in smaller communities, and frequently hint at generational conflicts or the anxieties of religious groups prone to apocalyptic scenarios. Social scientists have observed that, like cattle-mutilation reports, the "satanic panic" of the 70s and 80s was essentially a kind of urban legend which has received an electronic-media steroid boost. In many cases, the reports were fueled by uncritical and ratings-hungry news organizations which found that Satan and aliens attracted new viewers. 

Reports of unusual beasts which appear to defy known anatomical descriptions are not unusual. From Egyptian hieroglyphs to the apocalyptic literature of the bible, a blending of animal characteristics -- sometimes with human features -- is often seen. Centaurs, mermaids, Middle-Eastern deities, Central American gods -- all depict a mythological bestiary which is laden with symbolism. Mariners at one time described incredible creatures, and the legend "Here be Monsters!" was simply a cartographical description of uncharted waters. 

Folk literature occasionally involves such hybrid beasts, as in the case of the "Jersey Devil." In the mid 1800s, reports throughout New Jersey and later even Pennsylvania, told of a demon creature which attacked people, chickens, goats, and other farm animals. In their book The Jersey Devil, James McGloy and Ray Miller note that the beast 
 

is said to prowl the lonely sand trails and mist-shrouded marshes of Pine Barrens, and emerge periodically to rampage through the towns and cities... In its wake it has left many communities in near hysteria. Schools, factories, and theaters have closed, armed men have "ridden shotgun" on public transportation, and innumerable posses have been formed to track the monster.

Its head resembled that of a ram, with curled horns, and its long thick neck was thrust forward in flight. It had long thin wings and short legs, the front legs shorter than the hind. Again it uttered its mournful and awful call -- a combination of a squawk and a whistle, the beginning very high and piercing and ending very low and hoarse...

For the next few decades, the Jersey Devil is said to have appeared throughout different parts of the state. Around the time of World War I, report McGloy and Miller, "some type of a strange animal, reputedly the Jersey Devil, was killed and put on exhibition in Patterson." In 1925, The Woodbury Daily Times reported that a man in Gloucester County encountered a large beast consuming his chickens, chased the creature for about half-a-mile, shot it and exhibited the remains to hundreds of curious visitors. It was 

as big as a grown Airedale with black fur resembling Astrakhan; having a kangaroo-fashioned hop; forequarters higher than its rear, which were always crouched; and hind feet of four webbed toes ... Its crushers in the lower jaws each have four prongs into which the upper teeth fit perfectly.

Into the 1950s, fears of the Jersey Devil were prompting authorities to try to calm down excitied school children and post signs along highways which assured the public that "The Jersey Devil is a Hoax." During the following decade, reports about strange tracks led to renewed interest in the creature, and state game officials set out traps and ambushes to calm the local residents. Even today, ravaged animals at a poultry farm or horrendous cries in the night keep the legend of the Jersey Devil alive and thriving. 

Like the Jersey Devil or other folk-creatures, the chupacabras is a Frankenstein animal. It "jumps like a kangaroo" and "smells like sulfur." It is "four or five feet tall ... huge elongated red eyes." One witness claimed "A pointy, long tongue came in and out of his mouth. It was gray but his back changed colors ... it was a monster!" 

The legend of "el chupacabras" does not come originally from Mexico, though, but can be traced back to Puerto Rico. There, the "goat sucker" was often portrayed as a kind of half-man, half-beast vampire. There also were tales about other blood-drinking creatures, including the "vampire of Moca," reported during the 1970s -- about the time the cattle-mutilation fears were starting in the United States. 

According to The New York Times, fears about the chupacabras have "both alarmed and amused this US commonwealth of 3.7 million people, inspiring theories, satire, and T-shirts." One account says that the blood-sucker is really an alien attracted to Puerto Rico by the giant Arecibo Observatory, site of the world's largest single-dish radio telescope. Others insist that "people involved in bloody rituals" -- a phrase which evokes images of satanic cults -- are responsible for the animal mutilations, and that the chupacabras is only a ruse. 

The chupacabras has attracted the interest of parts of the international UFO community including a man named Jorge Martin, the editor of Evidencia, a paranormal-flying saucer interest publication. He claims that "thousands of animals have been killed" and "communities now live in fear." In addition, says Martin, "luminous oval and pyramidal shaped UFOs have been seen in the vicinty where animals have been mutilated and found to be without blood." Despite this alleged extraterrestrial connection, though, he adds that "it is quite possible that the chupacabras or ABEs ("Anomalous Biological Entities") could have been developed by humans." 

The chupacabras made it to America through Miami, specifically with the help of one of the most popular Spanish-language television shows, Cristina. In March of 1996 the program featured an hour-long report on the legend, including an interview with Jose "Chemo" Soto, the colorful mayor of Canovanas, Puerto Rico, who made the astounding statement that the chupacabras had claimed more than 100 victims. Soto was running for reelection, and had personally organized and led posses of worried citizens hunting the beast -- which seems to have been sighted anywhere search parties happened to have been. Displaying a swashbuckling persona to local residents, he has been dubbed "Chemo (Indiana) Jones." During his combination tour, search, and destroy missions, Soto always carried a large crucifix and supply of garlic, in case the extraterrestrial turned out to be a conventional vampire. "Whatever it is," warned Soto, "It's highly intelligent. Today it is attacking animals, but tomorrow it may attack people." 

According to the St. Petersburg Times [March 21, 1996], "Critics say the hysteria (about the beast) has been whipped up by sensationalist media that are eager to promote the legend as part of a sales or rating drive." It added that: 

Puerto Rico is a fertile market for such bizarre tales, due to widespread Afro-Carribean cultural and religious beliefs that involve animal sacrifices and blood rituals. Officials say folk monster tales are hard to combat with rational explanations.

Following the Christina show, reports of animal mutilation began appearing in South Florida. The chupacabras legend then received national exposure in mid-May of 1996, when CNN picked up the story. "Is it a mutant vampire? Is it an extra-terrestrial? Or is it simply a figment of someone's overactive imagination?" asked correspondent Lucia Newman from Mexico City. 

The legend had all ready made the rounds of fringe-culture groups and publications such as Fate magazine, and was even publicized at sites on the World-Wide Web. By late June, fears about the chupacabras had reached as far as the hispanic community on Long Island, New York. A story in the Long Island publication Newsday [June 28, 1996] reported that a local family had found its nine rabbits and one chicken dead and allegedly bloodless. An investigator with the SPCA "said an autopsy revealed that the animals were crushed to death, and their blood and organs remaind inside." That finding, however, was doing little to stop rumors. 

Newsday quoted the SPCA officer as saying that the deaths were probably "a prank by humans. I told them it was human-related and it did not convince them." A woman told the paper: "I believe in the chupacabras ... I believe he's an alien animal of some sort. There's a lot of experimenting." Another ruminated that "The Bible says you're going to see a lot of mysterious things in the future. It's a mystery." 

For now, the chupacabras is reputed to be everything from a blood-thirsty monster to an elusive alien. There are T-shirts, posters, even a chupacabras song "popular on Spanish-language radio stations," according to Newsday. Hundreds of people at a recent Hispanic Day festival wore chupacabras shirts. One depicted 

the creature as a muscled reptilian-looking thing holding a lifeless and bleeding goat, and another (portrayed) the blood sucker as an almost human shaped alien dressed in oversidzed clothes and pinkie ring.

Many of the themes voiced by chupacabras believers resonate with the Angst and uncertainty which characterize this premillennium count-down period. They include a distrust of established institutions (a cover-up? CIA experimentation run amok?), a lack of understanding of science, a belief in the paranormal phenomena such as UFOs and malevolent aliens, and a folklorish religious mysticism dwelling on the "strange things" prophesied in the Bible. The legend also testifies to the immunity which such claims appear to possess against reasoned, logcal investigation. The will to believe in the chupacabras definitely makes this elusive hybrid a party-animal for the 1999 New Year's Eve extravaganza. 

Conrad Goeringer is an antiquarian bookseller and free lance writer who lives on the cape of New Jersey. A frequent speaker at American Atheists national conventions, he is director of American Atheists On-Line Services and a contributing editor of American Atheist.