👹 STORY OF THE WEEK: Rhinelander’s Famed Monster

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When most folks think of Rhinelander, they think of one thing - Hodags. *If you misread the headline and thought we were talking HOT DOGS, 1) we're terribly sorry and 2) you should be eating brats anyway.

The mysterious, mythical creature that roams old growth forests up nort' is embedded throughout Rhinelander's culture, from its public schools to its restaurants to literal statues throughout town.

But how did this legend come to be? And what the heck is a Hodag, anyway?

It all started in the late 1800's, when a lumberjack stumbled upon something lurking in the northwoods, changing the fate of the town of Rhinelander forever...

Anyone who read the October edition of the Near North newspaper in 1893 couldn't help but become entranced by Eugene Shepard's story.

While out exploring the woods north of the town of Rhinelander, the lumberjack stumbled upon a dark, creepy lair, surrounded with some pretty frightening evidence:

Great tuffs of fur. Claw marks seven feet high on pine trees. A smell of "skunk perfume and buzzard meat." Wait, this sounds a lot like our old roommate in college...

Thinking he'd need backup to face whatever beast dwelled within, Eugene rounded up a posse of lumberjacks, each armed with rifles and squirt guns of poison water.

When the monster finally emerged, they saw the Hodag's terrible features: long claws, grinning fangs, horns of a bull, spikes, green fur, and a long, speared tail.

A scuffle ensued with the dragon-like Hodag, and Eugene claimed to have killed it with dynamite - but not before it gobbled up one of the men's white bulldogs named Buddy.

Though rumors of this cunning creature had been circling the lumber camps for years, Eugene's story in the paper soon had everyone talking, and he began to see an even deeper purpose to his Hodag legend.

Eugene may have been one of the toughest lumberjacks around, but he also was a bit of a showman.

Around the same time his Hodag story circled town, nearly 23,000 men worked in 450 lumberjack camps in the northwoods.

Knowing that Rhinelander's lumber trade was running out faster than a keg at a Badger's tailgate, Eugene saw the Hodag as a potential solution for the dying northwoods' economy.

Thanks to modern tech and a growing network of national media, he would spin tails of the Hodag so grandiose that tourists would come from far and wide to see this too-good-to-be-true tale. Indeed, he was right.

Three years after his initial newspaper story, he wrote again - this time claiming to have caught a wild Hodag, which he took on tour throughout the state.

Amazed onlookers gazed upon Eugene's Hodag in the darkness of a tent, completely unaware that his son's were operating the fabricated Hodag of wood and leather.

News spread across the country and it seemed everything was going according to Eugene's plan - until the Smithsonian Institute in D.C. announced scientists would investigate, thus forcing him to admit the farce.

Though everyone is now "in" on Eugene's great machination, the Hodag still lives on in Rhinelander today.

The official Mascot of Rhinelander and its high school, Hodags also have ties to numerous businesses and organizations, such as the annual music festival, Hodag Country Festival.

Statues can be found all over town as well, like that of local artist Tracy Goberville, drawing in thousands of visitors each year.

The Wisconsin Speleological Society hosts an annual Hodag Hunt every year in the Cherney Maribel Caves.

But good luck finding a Hodag - these beasts are still just as cunning as Eugene claimed over 100 years ago. Local golfers attribute missing golf balls to Hodags, and anglers swear they've had fish stolen from lines by the beast. What a convenient excuse!

Now send this email to a friend and get out ‘der!