Whilst chewing the fat with my Mythology class today, I came to a realization. This god-forsaken edge of the prairie (that I really do love, really) doesn’t have any mythical creatures. Growing up near Flathead Lake in northwestern Montana, we had the aptly named Flathead Lake Monster. Hell, for that matter, we had Bigfoot and UFOs, too. And the woods seemed to attract all kinds of wierdos (like my seventh grade shop teacher) who almost qualified as mythical figures.
Fast forward twenty some years and I’m living near the point where North Dakota, South Dakota, and Minnesota all come together. And there ain’t no mythical creatures. No Chupacabra (my favorite legend–and one that even stretches as far north as Huron, South Dakota according to my sources). No big hairy ape-like dudes. No dragon-like sea serpents in the water.
Just stories about getting drunk and falling out of the car on the highway. Farm accidents. Stories about “it’s so frickin’ cold that my [insert anything here] froze.”
I guess the giant mythical beasts don’t have anywhere to hide on the prairie tundra we have been blessed with. The biggest myths are the stories about the ones that got away, whether they are fish or girls or opportunities.
Signing off from the cultural lowlands, I bid you good day. Be happy if you have local scary monster stories to tell your children. I will steal another culture’s myth and let my kids go to sleep thinking about El Chupacabra tonight.
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