Places have a thing for using flora and fauna to represent what they stand for.
The United States, for example, has the eagle, one of the most well-known symbols associated with the country; Pennsylvania has the white-tailed deer. Some states (looking at you, California) even have their own dinosaurs.
But how many places can say they have an official monster?
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Stories that ‘took on a life of their own’
Clinton County is nestled in the northern part of Pennsylvania, one of several that encompass what’s known as The Pennsylvania Wilds.
This is a land, as the county’s website proclaims, “where rivers and valleys meet mountains and sunsets,” a place where tourists rave on Google Reviews about its beauty, “enthralling” nature, and — in a few cases — remoteness.
It’s also where the Giwoggle supposedly roams.
Local historian and author Lou Bernard — who’s to thank for the Giwoggle’s 2011 designation as Clinton County’s official monster (“Not that there was a lot of competition.”) — explains how the Giwoggle has deep roots in the area’s history and is believed to have stemmed from the days of the Underground Railroad.
“Keating Township was a safe haven for escaped slaves coming north, and many of them settled in the area because it was so remote,” Bernard tells PennLive. “They brought their own folklore and stories, which over time grew, and took on a life of their own.”
A monster created by witches
According to Bernard, the Giwoggle was first extensively written about by one George Rhone in a 1963 edition of “Keystone Folklore Quarterly.”
It was his grandmother, Rhone writes, who told him all about the strange creature “way back in the year 1900,” a creature with the body of a wolf, the hooves of a horse (which it stands on as opposed to getting on all fours), and the fierce talons of a bird.
Now you could be thinking to yourself, “Well, apart from the hooves and talons, that pretty much just sounds like a werewolf.” And Rhone is way ahead of you, pointing out the one key difference between the two: Werewolves are humans that turn into monsters, usually through the tragedy of a curse. Giwoggles, on the other hand, are animals wholly created by witches to do their dirty work.
“The way the story was told to me, the witch that creates the Giwoggle must, before they can bewitch, or place a spell on anyone, obtain some article that belongs to the intended victim, or the family of the intended victim,” writes Rhone (but don’t be getting ideas, reader).
There was one incident, according to Rhone, when a Giwoggle tormented people in the area, leading to the death of multiple babies. Suspicions, like they always do, soon fell on a “wierd [sic] old woman” known as Jerry’s Sarah, although she was later found to be innocent.
Locals eventually enlisted the help of Loop Hill Ike, who Bernard describes as a “sort of a paranormal bounty hunter” that appears in many folktales as the hero. Ike eventually revealed two other women to be the culprits using a little magic himself, leading to the pair’s painful death-by-burning. The Giwoggle killings, at long last, ceased.
“Loop Hill Ike was a real guy, Isaac Gaines, a descendant of one of the fugitive slaves [that escaped to the area],” says Bernard. “He is buried in a cemetery near the western county line, where there have been reports of ‘bipedal wolves.’
“This could easily be interpreted to be Giwoggles, staying near the grave of their old adversary.”
Indeed, Isaac ‘Loop Hill Ike’ Gaines lies buried in McGonigal Cemetery in Clearfield County, and his name is featured in many folk tales involving other legendary Pennsylvania creatures from the Swamp Angel to the Potato People. His antics even got their own book in 2018: “The Legend of Loop Hill Ike” by Bees O’Brien. But whether he did actually battle all these creatures — and whether they still keep watch over his grave — is anyone’s guess.
Despite Ike’s best efforts, Giwoggles were rumored to continue to wreak havoc throughout the area; an article written by Bernard for the Lock Haven Express tells of newspaper reports of Giwoggle sightings in 1909.
“In the winter of that year, a Giwoggle apparently came down from the north end of the county,” Bernard wrote. “They weren’t kept up there exclusively, evidently.
“A man was on his way to work very early in the morning, and claimed to have seen a Giwoggle running around on a roof downtown.”
Who the poor soul was that a witch set this Giwoggle on remains unknown.
‘We have this monster legend that’s all ours’
Although there (thankfully) hasn’t been any sightings recorded in the last century, the Giwoggle remains an important part of Clinton County’s identity for people like Bernard, so much so the creature may get the Albatwitch treatment with its own festival.
“[The legend] has really taken off around here, along with fun ‘sightings’ around town to promote our annual ‘Best of Clinton County Festival and Parade,’” says Christopher Miller, columnist for The Record and another researcher of Giwoggle lore.
Bernard adds that even if the Giwoggle doesn’t ever reach as much widespread publicity as other cryptids such as Bigfoot, locals can forever remain proud that the creature is completely theirs and theirs alone.
“Largely, I find it fascinating we have this monster legend that’s all ours,” says Bernard. “A monster that’s just within the borders of Clinton County.”
But whether or not there truly is a wolf-like creature still out there in the remote woods of the Pennsylvania Wilds, again, at the end of the day — how many other people can say their county has its own official monster?
Editor’s note: Welcome to the world of “Paranormal PA,” a PennLive series that delves into Pennsylvania-grown stories of spirits (like the ghost of a murdered girl whose cries can be heard in one of Penn State’s libraries); cryptids (the squonk); oddities and legends (Pennsylvania’s very own witch trials); and the unexplained (was this thing that flew over Kecksburg a meteor or a UFO?). Sign up here to get our Paranormal PA newsletter delivered to your inbox.
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