The Hollow Never Sleeps.

A Night No One Wants to Remember!

The moon was high, heavy with haze, casting a silver veil over the dense forests of Shannon County. The air, thick with cicada songs, fell abruptly silent. John Mercer—a lifelong hunter and no stranger to the deep woods—froze mid-step as a sound split the stillness. It wasn’t a coyote. It wasn’t an owl. This was something else—an unnatural howl, long and low, that rose into a high-pitched wail like a dying scream. Then came the eyes—two burning red coals reflecting from a thicket just beyond the ridge. He saw the shape then: massive, black-furred, horned. It moved like it didn’t belong to this world, heavy and fast. John ran, never speaking of it again—until he heard the same howl months later, drifting across the river bottoms of the Eleven Point.

And with that, another chapter was added to the legend of the Ozark Howler.

From Campfire to Canon: Naming the Beast

Whispers of the Howler—sometimes called the Ozark Black Howler, Hoo-Hoo, or Nightshade Bear, or the mysterious Booger Cat—go back generations in the hills and hollers of the Ozark Plateau. Some say the name was born out of fear, others out of necessity. After all, you have to call it something when the dark woods scream back.

What we now recognize as the Ozark Howler likely drew its name from a combination of backwoods storytelling and folkloric preservation efforts in the early 20th century. As tales were passed down and recorded, the defining characteristic—its unmistakable, haunting cry—was central enough to christen it: a howler.

But while many told the stories, one woman made sure they would never be forgotten.

May Kennedy McCord: The First Lady of the Ozarks

If the Howler has a folkloric godmother, it’s May Kennedy McCord (1880–1979), a poet, writer, radio personality, and folk historian from Springfield, Missouri. May spent her life collecting the old songs, superstitions, ghost tales, and rural legends of the Ozark people—and she did so with affection and respect, never mockery.

From 1920 through the 1950s, she hosted her own show on KWTO radio, charming listeners across the Midwest with stories of Ozark life and its strange shadows. She interviewed locals, took down their accounts of “haints” and beasts, and archived the region’s oral traditions before they could be lost to time. Among the tales she gathered were numerous accounts of spectral black beasts seen in the woods, known for their eerie cries and sudden vanishings.

Though she may never have used the name “Ozark Howler” herself, her preservation of those raw, chilling accounts gave future folklorists and cryptid researchers the framework to tie them together under one terrifying banner.

In her writings, McCord once said, “The Ozarks are rich with tales older than roads and truer than the truth.” For many, that includes the Howler.

Researchers like Vance Randolph (1892–1980) collected and chronicled many regional myths, though specific coverage of the Ozark Howler is more limited in his known works. That said, many modern folklore writers and enthusiasts tie in the creature with a broader cultural tapestry—an elusive guardian, a spectral omen, or a deeply rooted cultural symbol.

In one thoughtful interpretation, folklorist in Garden & Gun Magazine  describes the Howler not as a vicious predator, but as a "guardian of the rugged Ozarkian landscape"—something to respect and fear, but not necessarily to harm humans.

Eyewitness Accounts

Folklore archives record varied accounts across decades:

The earliest legend of the Ozark Howler is of a meeting between Daniel Boone and the creature in Missouri in the early 1800s. Boone is purported to have fired his gun at the Ozark Howler in some versions of this story, although there is no evidence that the beast was killed and kept as a trophy.

1946, Red Oak, Oklahoma: Soldiers returning home heard unsettling howls and saw a tall, shaggy, bear-like creature with glowing red eyes.

1950s: Local reports describe a “black, goat-shaped creature” roaming Ozark forests.

1980: A truck driver reported a cat‑like, shaggy creature with a long tail, beard, and red eyes.

2004, near Fort Smith, Arkansas: Locals and a ranger reported sightings; wildlife officials downplayed them as potentially escaped pet panthers since no breeding population remains.

2011: The Ozark Howler was possibly sighted in Newton County, Arkansas in 2011. 

2014, Benton County, AR: An emergency call described a fast-running, bear-sized creature; Arkansas Game & Fish received the report but offered no further confirmation.

Most recently, in 2015, an area resident claimed to have photographed the Ozark Howler at Devil's Den State Park.

Other varied descriptions—7 feet long, 4 feet tall, long horns, eerie howls—arise in local testimonies across Arkansas.

Wildlife Officials' Stance

The Arkansas Game & Fish Commission has generally dismissed claims as hoaxes. In a 2015 incident, submitted photos were ruled fake 

Officials have attributed sightings to misidentified escaped pet panthers or big cats rather than any unknown cryptid.

Cultural Roots: The Celtic Connection

With deep roots in Irish and British folklore, stories of spectral black dogs like the Cù Sìth resonate strongly here—hairy, glowing-eyed guardians with ominous howls.

.As immigrants settled the Ozarks, they likely brought such legends, blending them into local lore—giving rise to the mythical Ozark Howler.

So, if you ever find yourself alone among the whispering pines, under a ghostly, moonlit sky—listen closely. If a howl, part elk’s bugle and part human wail, rips through the dark... you may just feel that same chill Claire did. Because out there, roaming the silent hills, the Ozark Howler—myth or monster—still lives in the shadows of folklore, daring you to believe.

Descriptions of the Ozark Howler vary, but most agree on a few unsettling traits:

Size: Larger than a mountain lion, with a thick, muscular build

Color: Coal-black or dark gray fur, often shaggy or coarse

Eyes: Glowing red or yellow, often seen before the body is

Head: Sometimes catlike, other times more canine or bear-like

Horns: Ram-like in shape—curling from the skull in unnatural arcs

Sound: A horrifying, unplaceable howl—somewhere between a wolf’s cry, an elk’s bugle, and a woman’s scream

It is most commonly encountered in the remote parts of southern Missouri and northern Arkansas, especially the Mark Twain National Forest, the Boston Mountains, and along the Current and Eleven Point Rivers.

Habits, Habitats & How to Hear It

The Howler is rarely seen, but often heard. The best-known sign of its presence is the sudden absence of sound—birdsong cuts off, insects go silent, and even frogs seem to hold their breath.

According to local stories, the creature is nocturnal, solitary, and deeply territorial. It’s said to favor deep hollows, abandoned logging roads, and misty valleys few venture into after dusk.

Some even claim the creature appears before natural disasters, or as an omen of death—a notion possibly inherited from Celtic and Native American traditions of black spectral dogs or "death howls."

Science vs. Sightings: Debunking or Denying?

Skeptics suggest the Howler is nothing more than misidentified wildlife:

Mountain lions, once declared extinct in the Ozarks, are occasionally spotted today. Their screams are eerie enough to terrify even seasoned outdoorsmen.

Black bears, with their growing population and occasional bipedal movement, could be mistaken in poor light.

Some even blame escaped exotic pets, or cryptid hysteria fueled by online hoaxes in the 1990s.

In fact, in the early 2000s, a series of suspicious Howler “sightings” were traced to fake emails sent to Arkansas news stations, reportedly orchestrated by a prankster trying to “create a modern myth.” But those who’ve heard the howl firsthand insist the phenomenon predates the internet—and they don’t need validation from wildlife agencies to know what they saw.

Rooted in the Ridge: The Howler and Ozark Identity

Whether real or imagined, the Ozark Howler isn’t just a beast—it’s a mirror. It reflects the isolation, mystery, and magic of life in the hills. Like the stories of witch lights, phantom miners, or haunted springs, the Howler helps define the cultural identity of the Ozarks as a place where the natural and supernatural are never far apart.

In a region shaped by hardship, resourcefulness, and oral tradition, the Howler serves not only as a cautionary tale, but as a badge of honor. To believe in it—or to have encountered it—is to be deeply embedded in the rhythm of the land.

As May Kennedy McCord might say: it’s part of the music.

One Final Howl

So next time you find yourself deep in the Ozark woods—maybe walking a forgotten trail under a harvest moon or casting a line into a foggy river bend—take a moment to listen. You might just hear something you can’t explain. A cry that doesn’t belong to any known animal. A shadow moving just out of reach. A feeling that you’re not alone.

Don’t be so quick to call it a trick of the light or a snapping twig. After all, most locals will tell you…

The Ozark Howler is real. You just haven’t met it yet.