Hitty Sassy

Sunday, September 7^th The War Eagle Mill

Sunday was a wonderful day of rest for this traveling band, though travel we did. Rising late, we ventured northward along the winding roads in the beautiful forest of Northwest Arkansas. I was introduced to the War Eagle Mill, a place familiar to Granny Lavender, her kin and creator.

After sharing meal in the Bean Palace Restaurant, my hosts carefully showed me the working water wheel of the grist mill and the interior workings as well.

At the War Eagle Mill

(There was some concern for my safety in posing for photographs…wise heads prevailed.) They were grinding cornmeal that afternoon. Such a racket the mill made, my pegs shook from the vibrations!

I finally agreed to pose in the old mill stone outside to record the visit for the Bonsai Hittys.

My travel hosts were misty-eyed. The lovely Hitty Tottie sat in this same spot many years ago when she came first to dwell with them and the memory of that adoption made their hearts tender with remembrance.

Monday, September 8^th Towards Slither Acres

Acknowledging Hitty Nell as a bosom friend and champion explorer, I prepared, as my hosts did, for our soon-to-be leave-taking. I would miss my fellow cryptid-hunter and I would miss Granny Lavender as well – with her cozy cabin, its country comforts and intriguing guests. The siren song of the undiscovered played in my heart, however, the notes propelling me back onto the road.

Oddly, my travel hosts spoke in hushed tones, instead of with their usual exuberance. At the time, I took their apparent anxiousness for concern about another impending weather system poised to assault the good Hitty-folk along the Gulf. The words “water” and “waves” I often caught when they thought I was not listening. A good explorer is never inattentive, however.

The vehicle was packed, the Wiregrass Hitties, The Mad for the Farthing Crowd and visitors were seated in their traveling boxes, and we departed southwards toward the Delta and…Slither Acres.

The Berrygnash footprint cast turned out just as I hoped it would!! It was very heavy for a small wooden Hitty to handle, so my travel hosts graciously and carefully packed it up so it would survive the long journey home.  Here is a photo of it in my Cryptid Museum:

******************END of PART 5*****************************

The Haphazard Journal of My Journey to the Heart of Dixie and the “Natural State” in Search of Cryptids–

The Recovered Journal Entries by Hitty Sassy

Saturday, September 6th  The Search for the Berrygnash, continued.

The day’s excitement and perhaps the sun’s heat caused Nell and me to lay aside our watchfulness for a brief time; barely the time for a thought to breeze through our wooden heads.  When Nell slid down the rock to paddle her feet in the cool water, we hardly remarked on the dampness already present on the stone.  Foolish dollies!

Glancing once more at the saturation, my heart began to pound.  I splashed water on my face, to animate my flagging concentration.

Rapidly drying on the rock, the shape familiar even as it evaporated was again the footprint of a three-toed being!

Damp meant close!  The cryptid had passed this way and not too very long thence!

The discovery could well be within our grasp.  We abandoned our rest and Nell leapt from the rock into the brush.

Following closely and quietly, watching only the top of Nell’s dark curls bobbing above the grasses, I proceeded to the edge of the bluff.  I came up behind her and surmised by the set of her shoulders that she indeed had espied the fresh tracks of, could it be, Granny Lavender’s Berrygnash? Nell’s head disappeared from my view as she silently slid over the side of the rocks and down into the scrub; I hastened to follow.

The vegetation obscured all but the rocks and monstrous trees now looming above us. Turning my head from side to side in order to get my bearings, I briefly caught the scent of a smoky fire.  Fire is rarely a blessing to a wooden doll, but fear of fire could not replace the drama of this possible encounter with an unknown species. The fire of discovery coursed through me and propelled me forward, fairly toppling Nell as we emerged from the grass and onto a rocky terrace.

We stood at the entrance of a mossy grotto that wandered deeply into bluffs of the Denton Family Hold. The cool breath of the cave swept past me; even in the heat, I shivered.  The crackling of flames brought my head around.  There, at the entrance of the grotto, burned a fire built with brush and lichen.

The smoke waved in response to the exhalation from the depths.  Nell and I were transfixed.    No wooden doll would dare create such a torment! Was this fire then constructed by human hands? Or was this evidence of a sophisticated cryptid?

As our eyes became accustomed to the mellow darkness, they strayed further into the cave.  Walking into the lichen-hung chamber, we were again astonished to find what looked to be a dining table made of natural stone and set with delectable comestibles harvested from the forest.

I admit, at first I felt as though someone was pulling my peg, making me the butt of some joke.  But looking at Nell’s face, I could see she was as much mystified as I – she was not the perpetrator.

We gave our attention to the assembled foodstuffs.  A dainty dried mushroom lay near the table.

I had often heard my travel hosts praise the flavor of certain dried fungi – who could the occupant of the cave be, that also enjoyed this sort of fare?  Apparently, we had missed our quarry again, for the grotto appeared empty; hastily abandoned.

My spirits sank.  Perhaps I had not been as stealthy as I supposed and had frightened away the inhabitant; whoever that might be.

The fire had died back and the light of the afternoon began also to wane.  The sun would soon fall behind the western mountains and leave us to find our way home in darkness. I was confident in Nell’s ability to return us home safely, and I also was convinced that night in the Boston Mountains might provide for some intriguing cryptid hunting. We were weary, however; the long sigh that escaped from my lips must have been immense, for it caused the fire’s embers to flare, as well as the hanging lichen to sway.

Or so I thought.

The flame that had licked up, consuming my sigh, revealed an odd glow from deep within the cave.

The billowing lichen made the rich, vermillion glow wink in and out.  I felt, at first, rather than heard, a teasingly familiar rumble. My sap turned to water in my tissues…the mosses were not moving in response to my weary breath, but moving of their own accord!  It took merely a second to record in my mind the truth of Granny Lavender’s stories.

I was staring into the open heart of the Berrygnash! (click to enlarge!)

It was rather more than two exhausted wooden dolls could apprehend and, startled, we gave in to our fears. Nell, fleet of foot, ran from the creature as fast as her pegs could manage. I felt for a moment quite faint with the excitement and swayed on my wooden heels, falling back, back into the arms of the Berrygnash.

A Note from Editor Jane:

Should any of the readers of this journal suppose for a moment that Hitty Sassy and Hitty Nell displayed anything but the utmost courage in this instance, I would beg you to reconsider.  Hittys are without doubt the most courageous of dolls; Ancestor Hitty bears witness to this, as do the adventures of countless Hittys around the world. One can justifiably forgive them both for a momentary lapse in fortitude, indeed; one could argue that Sassy’s collapse was due to the remarkable discovery of the Berrygnash alone.

The heart of a Hitty belies her six and one-quarter inch height, for the heart of a Hitty contains all that is noble in Dollkind and those that love Dollkind.

********

I have no recollection of what occurred after succumbing.  I remember only the rumbling laugh of the Berrygnash echoing across the Boston Mountains as I awoke atop the bluff, Nell chaffing my pegs.  I had an odd sensation of peace and affirmation.  My urge towards discovery was unabated, but I felt no need to further trouble such an astounding, gracious creature.  My task was complete.

Our group made its way back to the comfort of the cabin and there was much animated discussion around the dinner table that evening, to be sure.  Mountain-folk may be given to embellishment, but I could hardly see need of “fish-stories” in this case.  The truth was, by itself, enough to excite the imagination of every Hitty assembled.  I trust that future readers of this journal will themselves in their hearts affirm the truth of these observations and recollections, treasuring the tales of Granny Lavender and the secret of the Berrygnash.

A note to future readers from myself, that is, Hitty Sassy:

Should you wander into the Ozarks and find yourself in the company of the redoubtable Lavender, I beg you – listen closely to her tales, for story-tellers, like the Berrygnash, are endangered beings. When Lavender closes her eyes at the Final Winter, Dollkind will have lost a great gift.  I urge Hittys everywhere, whatever path they have chosen in life, cryptid-hunter, seamstress, explorer, governess, aviatrix or housekeeper, to become a gift such as Lavender.  Live your lives boldly, craft your own tales and, most importantly, share your stories with Hitty-kind, Dollkind and persons that love them.

**************END of PART 4********************

I resume my journal here with the remainder of the afternoon’s adventures

Evening, the Same Day A Slight Kerfuffle

The arrival of guests, “The Cousins”, elevated Granny’s story-telling to new heights.  She spun such tales for our entertainment, that I began to doubt her veracity.  Ozark story-spinners, after all, are famous for their ability to pull one’s peg. Still, I duly noted each mote of folk lore and recorded it faithfully in my notes.  I became intrigued with her stories of “The Berrygnash”, a heretofore unheard of specie in my economy. Granny’s recounting of Doll-kind’s encounters with this cryptid was full of all the expected illustrations guaranteed to send young wooden children diving under their quilts at day’s end or keep even the most ardent explorer in the center of a lonesome path while passing through some unknown wood.  A giant of a beast, towering over small dolls?  Powerful claws for stripping Farkle-berry bushes and perhaps for the mangling of Hittys, Bitties and their kin? Covered in lichen; dripping with moss? The herbaceous heart of the Berrygnash exposed for every doll to see?  I could see that Granny’s tale was making the Cousins uncomfortable and poor Hyacinth Paw-Paw’s maple was turning an unsightly shade of green.

Alas, poor Yorick, even he paled and made his way into the comfort of Nell’s arms.

At that moment, Venerable Tottie’s young charge escaped from her ministrations and made his way downstairs.    She and Miss Hickory evidently had more than enough on their hands cleaning up after the bath to follow him and regain control of the unwelcome ablutions. Unclad and unashamed, the rascal scampered around the cabin, into everyone’s laps and hearts. 

He was a jolly little fellow and the glint in his eyes certainly affirmed his relationship to Granny Lavender.  The chip didn’t fall far from that blank!  As he ran naked around the room, his small foot found Nell’s sewing basket and the collision sent reels of cotton skittering across the floor.  We all leapt to recover the spools and seize the scissors before anyone harmed themselves.  I found myself chasing after one spool that had bounced, rolled and otherwise made its way into a darkened corner by the fireplace and under a window.

As I write this, I still wonder why, save for the danger of reels under one’s feet, or a young person playing with scissors, there was such a kerfuffle. 
[WHAT IS THAT OUTSIDE THE WINDOW??]
As I rose from capturing the run-away spool, I could see that Hitty Nell had subdued the scamp, but Granny, the Cousins and Hyacinth Paw-Paw were still much agitated and practically wordless! They gestured, waving their arms in my direction.  I calmly assured them that I had the thread in hand.

They did not respond in a rational fashion, but continued to point and squeal.  Granny Lavender’s countenance was a contradiction.  I could clearly perceive her consternation; however, I was also quite sure I could see the corners of her mouth curling into what almost looked like a grin.  What were these mountain-dolls about?  Perhaps it was a jest they played on newcomers?  I could hardly ascribe this behavior to such estimable Hittys.  I decided to ignore the hysteria and chalked it up to the change in the weather.  I did look about the room for a “little brown jug”, though.  I’d heard stories about moonshine manufactured in these hills.  I wouldn’t put it past Lavender to tip a little something extra in the afternoon tea.

It was time to take our leave of Granny Lavender, but as I stepped away from the window, I felt a strange stirring in my vascular tissue; the sap fairly froze in my pegs.  These tales of Granny’s were amusing, but were they to be believed? Could the last of the Berrygnash truly dwell in these hills?  Did the species even exist at all? Hyacinth Paw-Paw was at the door, ready to depart in haste. She believed!  The Cousins had long disappeared, hurrying home before the day closed. Hitty Nell and I had a last urgent conversation with Granny Lavender, and then thanked her for the afternoon’s entertainment. 
She pulled me close, gave me her blessing and spoke some final whispered words.

Once again, as I record my impressions, I am unsure what I heard from the interior of Granny’s cabin as we withdrew.  I am quite convinced I heard Granny’s melodious chuckle, but my ears also caught a deeper, richer rumble that I failed to identify.  It sounded like the falling of rocks in a faraway canyon, but brighter…was Granny entertaining another visitor?

I decided that her stories must being toying with my imagination. I hurried on.

We three made our way back to the comfort of our own cabin through the forest at dusk.  The wood seemed less welcoming than previously, when we had shared a small meal with a cricket and the sun had lit our path with a shower of golden lights.  Reaching home, Hyacinth Paw-Paw tucked herself quickly into bed with her sisters, pulling the covers over her head.  I, however, picked up my journal, and, as the dark crept over the mountains, recorded the day’s events and pondered the tale of the Berrygnash.

Saturday, September 6th  The Search for the Berrygnash

Preparations for our expedition proved overwhelming, so we were unable to embark on our search until the late afternoon.  Hyacinth Paw-Paw declined our invitation to accompany Nell and me.  She was still much in fear since taking in Granny Lavender’s yarns.  I packed the gear half-heartedly myself.  I did long to discover a cryptid and be so noted.  I did not wish to be disappointed and prayed that our search would not be in vain.  Pleasant as she was, could Granny be trusted?

Heeding the advice of my expedition leaders, I hired extra hands for the trek into the forest surrounding the abandoned town of Schaberg.  Nell and I, along with our carriers, traveled down the winding dirt road until we came to the borders of the Denton Family Hold.  Leaving the road, we hiked down to the bluffs surrounding the property.  A few of the hirelings expressed concern, not only about a possible encounter with a Berrygnash, but also about treading on an unwelcome varmint or viper.  As I reassured them, I also challenged them to consider who was encroaching on whom and who precisely would be unwelcome.  Hitty Nell and I then set about the business of conducting a thorough exploration.

We set up our site on the top of a large boulder, feeling that this was a secure base from which to operate.  I ventured down onto the flatland above the bluffs, making my way toward the moist sand.  Pushing aside the tall grasses as quietly as I could, I drew near what I suspected would be an excellent site for a cryptid to leave signs of its passing.  Nell stood watch from above.

It would be too much to expect that my quarry should conveniently leave tracks where first I looked, and, sadly true, I found nothing. I redoubled my efforts, skirting around the sand, examining the terrain closely.  The shadows across one patch of silt looked oddly unnatural.  I drew near, stepping gingerly, not wanting to disturb any evidence.

I was rewarded!  Here at last was something; but was it proof? Gigantic footprints, deep and three-toed traveled across this plot.

I signaled Nell to come and opine.

We concurred; here surely was evidence of an unknown cryptid.  The tracks were fairly fresh.  While I considered our next step, Nell made a plaster casting of the footprints.

Trained well by her mountains relations, Nell proved herself an admirable tracker and was able to discern with some ease the progress the cryptid had made through the undergrowth. 

We followed the signs to a small pond, where for a moment’s respite, we seated ourselves and admired the beautiful Ozarks.

[Sassy brought home the plaster cast that Nell made.  It is on exhibit in her Cryptid Museum.]

****************************END of PART 3**********************************

Will Sassy and Nell decide to pursue the creature??

Or will they return to the cabin, satisfied with the plaster cast??

Afternoon, the Same Day   We Learn of a Greater Threat and Opportunity

Granny Lavender was everything Nell had promised.

Gathered Around Granny Lavender

She was a charming, mature soul, full of folk savvy and tall-tales.  Her eyes twinkled as the stories poured from her lips.  When she laughed, which was often, her pegs appeared as lithe as a young willow in a Spring zephyr. Her home was a sweet hive of activity.  Venerable Tottie had found employment upstairs; she and Miss Hickory strived to bathe a reluctant, energetic young fellow.

Venerable Tottie and the Dirty Rascal

Hitty Hyacinth Paw-Paw warmed her pegs at the wood stove; Nell entertained Yorick*, who’d mysteriously managed to tag along, while seated on the floor of the cabin.

Two sprites enjoyed the attic with its many treasures.

Granny Lavender hugged a fractious infant close to her and began to speak. I sat on the very edge of my chair, drinking in all of Granny’s choice wisdom.

* Yorick is the chief thespian in the Wiregrass, and like most actors, is chronically under-employed and must scrape together what living he can.  He appears in the most unlikely places and has many admirers among the Wiregrass Hitties and the Mad for the Farthing Crowd.  His last major engagement was on the British stage, appearing as himself, in “Hittylet, Prince of Denmark.”

A Short Natural History of “The Berrygnash”, collected from my notes

Please note:  “The Berrygnash” refers not only to the species as a group,
but may also indicate the singular.

Driven westward from the Appalachians by encroaching Dollkind, the last of the Berrygnash, Farklepithacus, a peaceful, literate species, settled in the Ozark Mountains of northwest Arkansas and southwest Missouri.  The abundance of berries, particularly Farkle-berries, provided the greatest lure to the species; the Boston Mountains were awash with the tasty fruit. The Berrygnash had co-existed peacefully for hundreds of years with both the small and large dolls dwelling with families living in the East.  But, as more folks settled the East, less welcome were these creatures. Though Hittykind regarded them with a bit of skepticism, the Berrygnash had never been known to feast on anything other than berries.  However, Hittys, never being quite sure of their place on the food chain, maintained their distance from herbivores in general and since Rowan berries were the Berrygnash’s second favorite food, could not help but wonder if a Berrygnash with a particularly refined sense of taste might use a small wooden doll to cleanse its palette between courses. This distance allowed knowledge of the Berrygnash to fade from all but a few families.

Surprisingly, the Berrygnash, on the whole, were a literate species, storytelling and reading being their chief entertainment.  There is no proof that the Berrygnash employ their own alphabet, nor create their own literature, but there is ample evidence of the Berrygnash enjoying the writing also beloved by Dollkind and their people.  Hittys and their pegged cousins were often unaware that, as they gathered together to share tales of adventures and travels, the Berrygnash would lurk on the outer edges of the encampment, their ears bent forward to catch every detail.

As for reading, most of Berrygnash popular literature in the late 19th and early 20th century consisted of Sears or Montgomery Ward catalogs, given that the Berrygnash had discovered that Ozark Hittykind’s people built Half Moon Relieving Caves and Libraries similarly to their Eastern cousins.  It was the discovery of the Denton Family HMRC & L that elevated the literary sensibilities of Farklepithicus Ozarkus.  They learned to enjoy the classics, particularly those books and fables that spoke of Beast versus Man: Beowulf, St. George and the Dragon, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Moby Dick.  There is also a school of thought that suggests the Berrygnash appreciate Hitty, Her First Hundred Years by Rachel Field, though, to date, no evidence to support this theory exists and certainly, no copy of this volume has been found in any HMRC & L.

At this writing, scientists and cryptid hunter alike believe the Berrygnash may also have harnessed the power of fire.  Fire-pits, unexplained by any other reasoning, found in the bluffs on the Denton property almost exclusively, appear to suggest that the Berrygnash use fire to not only warm themselves during the colder weather, but to cook their farkle-berries.

At the present, there remains no clear documentation as to numbers of the
Berrygnash in the Boston Mountains.  As the modern world advances into the remaining wild places, HMRC & L’s are becoming things of mere memory, thereby depriving Farklepithacus Ozarkus of the mental stimulation vital to their survival.  It is sadly rumored that there may be but one Berrygnash roaming the hills around the old ghost town of Schaberg.

**********To Be Continued**********

[In late 2008 Jane and Edward hosted Hitty Sassy on a trip to the Ozark Mountains seeking cryptids.  Sassy kept a detailed journal and luckily for us, Jane transcribed it.  Sometimes Sassy's handwriting can be a bit "curious," and I thank Jane and Edward very much for the time spent on the Journal, as well as the time and effort they expended photographing the expedition!]

The Haphazard Journal of My Journey  to the Heart of Dixie and the Natural State in Search of Cryptids
by Hitty Sassy

Sunday, August 31  We Commence Traveling

The journey northwest was arduous but relaxing in the amiable company of the Wiregrass Hitties, and the Mad for the Farthing Crowd was a delight not to be missed.  We had hoped to escape the oncoming hurricane Gustav as we journeyed, and indeed, were blessed by pleasant weather, however, we did meet a number other souls not as fortunate – folks encumbered by bag and baggage, hurrying northward to parts unknown.

We whiled away hours en route by listening to a rather ghastly novel “The Crocodile in the Sandbank”, full of flowery prose and florid descriptions.  The heroine was inspiring however; Amelia Peabody – an intrepid explorer of ancient Egyptian ruins.  One can only take heart at the thought of what she endured for the sake of science.

Monday, September 1  Morning in the Ozarks (The Boston Mountains)

I awoke to the rhythmic whir of multitudes of crickets.  In the distance I could hear the baying of hounds – an incessant barking of clearly disturbed doggery. What had caused such uproar in the early morning?  Had they perhaps caught the scent of the very creature which I had come in search of – the elusive Ozark Prowler?  Were there perhaps other intriguing cryptids dwelling in and amongst the rocky outcroppings of the Boston Mountains?  Beasts that had escaped the notice of most of the bustling outside world? These were the dubious treasures which I sought.

I rose and greeted the sun rising over the mountains and into the mauve clouds.  It appeared to be a wonderful day in the making.

My expedition leaders took the Wiregrass Hitties and me out for a tour of the entire area to get a feel for the environment and to gauge what obstacles might need to be overcome in our search for the secrets of the Ozarks.

Tuesday, September 2  A Day of Gloomy Disappointment

The day dawned gray.  The leaves on the large oak outside of my cabin had begun the Dance of Approaching Storm.  After fleeing the Wiregrass to avoid a hurricane, here it was, in a thankfully reduced form, sliding its way into the Ozarks.  This could bode no good for tracking the Ozark Prowler.
If this creature existed–if the creature had left any tracks, the rain would soon wash the evidence away. I proposed consulting with my expedition leaders and the Wiregrass Hitties.  The consensus was that a day speaking with the local inhabitants in the comfy indoors might serve us well.  We gathered ourselves together and went to meet our soon-to-be-friends.

…and fast friends we became.  Such a gaggle of Grannies, Hitties, Totties and more!  Chips flew as quickly as the bright conversation around the table.  It was pleasure to be included in this company.

Wednesday, September 3  Rain, Rain – Go Away!

The storm had not abated upon awakening this morning – indeed; it had grown more ferocious; the rain pounding at the windows; the wind rushing between the cabins and over the rooftops.  The modern electric lights flickered with every gust.  I pondered resorting to the lantern supplied by the expedition leader.  In all this, I wondered once more if we would encounter the Ozark Prowler or if the remnants of the hurricane would drive something more sinister from these rocky hills and secluded valleys.

Our meeting the day before had proved profitable.  Cheerful and gracious Hittys live in these mountains and such a number of them!  One such little joy was Hitty Nell.  She promised to soon introduce me to Granny Lavender, the oldest inhabitant, and a wealth of knowledge regarding the legends of the Ozarks.  I spent the rainy day organizing my thoughts and updating my journal, but my desire to explore the territory began to plague me–I longed to be out-of-doors.

Thursday, September 4   More Than Monsters

Nary a trace nor whispered word of the Ozark Prowler.  I checked my notes on this cryptid once more.  Was it perhaps a large mountain lion?  This daunted me for some small moments – I being a little doll. Might I be forced to abandon the search?

The mists had risen in the overnight hours, forming phantoms that advanced and retreated with each puff of wind.  Daddy Long-Legs played possum on the doorstep of our cabin – springing into the air like pop-up tents before daintily scurrying into the room.  Strange persons took advantage of the murky vapors to cloak their nefarious activities. [Please refer to the diary of the expedition leaders for further information, or check my footnotes].

Friday Morning, September 5   We Travel to Granny’s Cabin

The morning revealed itself as a jewel and the anticipated visit with Granny Lavender only added to its luster.  Hitty Nell arrived to escort me, clad in her stout Hitty boots and she bade me don mine also.  The trek to the cabin was not perilous, she said, but best to protect one’s pegs and take sensible precautions. Nell suggested that Venerable Tottie be borne to Granny’s by a swifter mode of transportation, as Granny had a houseful of unruly young’ns and might need Tottie’s skills in corralling them. Hitty Hyacinth Paw-Paw begged to accompany us, so we agreed that she should be allowed.  I did worry about her ability to keep up, encumbered as she was with her long skirts. I, myself am so appreciative of my exploring togs, suitable for any adventure and certainly stylish.

Nell led through the forest and along the paths well-worn by the Dollkind of the Ozarks.  We scrambled over the beautiful rocks of the Boston Mountains and paused occasionally to enjoy the spectacular views.  Nell had thoughtfully prepared a small repast which we enjoyed while seated around a dainty mushroom.

We were not the only ones to enjoy the mushroom.

A cricket joined Nell as she set the table, and dined upon our table itself!

Hitty Nell Enjoys the Company of a CRICKET!

We had our picture made at the Throne in the Forest, a local scenic wonder where grows a single violet in the Spring, bursting from a bed of moss set high in a tree.

Traditional Throne in the Forest

As we journeyed, I noticed a wiry bush with green berries.  I inquired of Nell what they might be.  “Why, they are farkle-berries!” she exclaimed.  Farkle-berries – I took note of this.  Poor Hitty Hyacinth Paw-Paw lagged behind, her dress catching on the low scrub along the path.  She did not despair, however, and arrived at Granny Lavender’s cabin along with Nell and me, a trifle out-of-breath and sore of peg.

********************************To Be Continued*******************************

Hitty Sassy has been spending many hours working in the Cryptid Museum.  In Room #1 she hung several photos sent in by interested observers, and has two exhibits of  physical evidence.  One of these, the Sapphire Leopard skin, has already been documented and posted to this blog.  The Berrygnash Footprint cast is a new and wonderful exhibit sent in by Jane and Edward.  The full story of the cast, and Sassy’s diary from her trip to Arkansas will be published soon, along with fabulous photos taken by Jane and Edward with the cooperation of a certain well-known and highly-admired carver from that state!!

Click on any photo below to see a larger view of it.

Cryptid Museum Room #1

The photos were hung on the grasscloth with care, in hopes that dear readers soon would be looking at them with interest.

‘How do you like them?’ she wonders.

Godzilla and Lizard Man

Andrew T and Sevashteen had a close encounter with Godzilla in Tokyo.  Sevashteen seems to be her normal, natural, sweet, confident, fun-loving self, even though she is held tightly in the gnarly front paw of a huge monster in Japan.

Holly K sent Sassy a newspaper clipping of the Lizard Man of South Carolina, and is continuing to monitor the situation.  Sassy hopes for more information soon!

Ancient Hippocamp found in Texas

The ancient Hippocamp was discovered by Erin K in Texas in 2008.

Evil Purse Monkey and Taddy

The Evil Purse Monkey found by Michelle K has been fully documented in this blog.  It is a very interesting creature, but Sassy determined after much study, that it is now too common to be considered a cryptid.

Taddy is a very curious cryptid documented by TCV.  It is shown here with Will, an adventurer, inventor, and explorer who became friends with the Cadborosaurus in TCV’s Ellen and Pink stories.

The last exhibit in Room #1 is perhaps the most exciting of all.

Plaster cast of Berrygnash footprint

This is actual physical evidence of an ephemeral encounter in the wilds of Arkansas!  Sassy journeyed across the country to participate in the search for the Berrygnash.  Experienced researher that she is, she kept a detailed diary during her trip, where she met many new people, Hittys, and Hitty friends. Her trip will be posted here in the near future!

Hitty Sassy received the following letter at the Cryptid Hunters International  Headquarters:

Dear Hitty Sassy,
It’s not a Bigfoot, but I do have evidence of a previously unknown species of monkey–the Evil Purse Monkey.  We have captured one in a safety bubble.  They are relatively small and move about by cartwheeling.  If you are interested I can provide pictures.
When kept in a purse an EPM can make himself helpful as an anti-purse-snatching device…kind of like a Trunk Monkey, but more portable.
The name comes from back in the day when everything that was mischievous or unexplained was termed evil.  Of course, these little critters don’t start worn out & scared, but sometimes at the end of the day they get themselves in trouble and can’t get out of it.
The big thing to know about the Evil Purse Monkey is that he does not crawl, run, walk, or scamper–he cartwheels.  It’s believed to be an evolutionary survival tactic, since it’s very hard to catch a cartwheeling anything.  Oh, and he has no tail, which is very weird for a monkey.  Not much else is really known about him, but it is believed that his diet consists of purse lint & pennies.  The one we have is the only one known to be in captivity at this time, so there is still much to learn about him. MK   5/21/08

Dear MK,
I want to know more.  Please send photos!!
Hitty Sassy

MK wisely keeps the Evil Purse Monkey close to her purse when released.

See him cartwheeling!  He’s excited to be out of his plastic safety bubble for a while.  A little daily exercise is all he needs to stay healthy and happy.

And then back in he goes, so he will learn to stay out of trouble.

MK reports that recently Evil Purse Monkeys have been spotted for sale in certain retail establishments.  She hopes that the sellers have read the Evil Purse Monkey Care Sheet and will be sure to explain the rules of ownership to those eager to invite them to live in their homes.  And she hopes that the new owners will carefully read and abide by the rules listed in the Care Sheet.

The Evil Purse Monkey Care Sheet
Congratulations!
You have been selected as a caretaker for an Evil Purse Monkey.
Things you should know about the creature in your care:
1. Evil Purse Monkeys are not really evil, just naturally mischievous.
2. Evil Purse Monkeys should be kept contained in their safety bubble unless you are:
a. Exercising them in a secure facility
b. Feeding them something messy
c. Bathing them
3.  It is safe to transport your Evil Purse Monkey in your purse as long as he is kept contained in the safety bubble.
4.  Evil Purse Monkeys do not walk, run or jump…they cartwheel.  This makes them very difficult to capture in the event they manage to escape.
We hope you enjoy your Evil Purse Monkey!

(Remember it is never safe to keep more than one, because they will organize and take over your household. In the event that you cannot keep an Evil Purse Monkey in your purse at all times, they do enjoy living with Hitty Dolls.)  MK

THE SAFE WAY TO KEEP AN EVIL PURSE MONKEY IN THE HOUSEHOLD:

Itty Bitty Hitty Hattie keeps an EPM safely in his Plastic Bubble

A RESPONSIBLE OWNER WITH HER EPM–

Walking a Purse Monkey—Hitty figured out how to control her lone EPM

OH DEAR!  THIS OWNER HAS LET HER EPM ESCAPE FROM HIS BUBBLE!!

What will he teach the cat?

“The photos are mighty cute… but he doesn’t seem at all evil; just frightened and worn out. I wonder if the ‘evil’ part is nothing more than urban legend?”     AT

“When kept more than one per household they have actually been known to organize  and take over the household.  I know a guy, who knows a guy, who’s 2nd cousin’s household was taken over by Evil Purse Monkeys after they violated the Care Sheet instructions,”  MK warns.

Hitty Sassy thinks, ‘They certainly look like a handful.  What it would be like to have a whole family of them?  Surely they would encourage each other and cause all kinds of a ruckus!’
One new owner felt confident in her ability to handle a whole family of EPMs.  Early  on she made this claim:
“I rounded all of them up and laid the fly-swatter in plain view of their box. Not a peep outta them, they just silently stare at that swatter.  LOL!!”
Signed- Monkey Mommy Dearest

BUT JUST LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED WHEN SHE LEFT THE ROOM–(click to enlarge)

Ten Evil Purse Monkeys take over a Hitty kitchen.

MK still has the first EPM ever taken captive.  She asked him what he wanted to be called.  He chose to go by O-EPM for Original Evil Purse Monkey.  They can be vain little fellows!
“MK, how is life with O-EPM now that you have had him for a while?”
Oh, he is recovering/plotting right now.  He tends to be better behaved with my daughter, I don’t know why.  I had him at work the other day & he ran all over the office & half the ceiling before I caught him.  I have some specialty pens on my desk. One shoots little soft rubber darts…he had a heyday with that one before I got it away from him.  We have little race cars that he uses like skateboards. ..it was embarrassing not having any control of a monkey that small.   I should know better than anyone—the #1 item on the EPM care sheet tells that they are really just mischievous little guys. MK
Hitty Sassy has completed her study of the Evil Purse Monkey and concluded that there are now so many of them who have been captured and adopted by Hitty families, that they no longer qualify as Cryptids.  She wishes all the owners good luck and hopes they will all obey the rules of ownership.  And remember—they are really just mischievous little guys!

Coming up next:  MYSTERY OF THE BERRYGNASH

If any of you reading this have not already read Part 1, PLEASE scroll down to Part 1 before you look at the photos in Part 2 and ruin the surprise!

First, Sassy wants to explain the word CRYPTID.

Wikipedia tells us that Cryptid is a term used to refer to a creature whose existence has been suggested, but not scientifically confirmed, including purported unknown biological organisms and extinct species claimed to be living today, i.e. the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, Yeti, Coelacanth.

Cryptozoology is the study of and search for animals found in fossil records which are considered extinct; and animals for which anecdotal evidence exists in the form of myths, legends or undocumented sightings.

Let’s resume the story!

Sassy curiously asked the Yawla Redef residents what was in the carefully wrapped package, but they only repeated that she was not to open it until she returned to the laboratory.

With a sigh, she agreed to their terms.  She asked many more questions that DID have answers, finished writing down all the pertinent information that she knew the scientists would want, picked up the bag with the hairs and the wrapped package, and headed for home.  She wondered why it had been so important to the residents of Yawla Redef that they requested a Cryptid Hunter to personally pick up the photograph they had taken.  Usually people sent their evidence in to a lab and had it processed before the Hunters even found out about it.

As soon as she got home, she headed for the science lab.  She knew that M.S. Dort had been certified by C.H.I. to analyze cryptid evidence.

Both Sassy and M.S. Dort were surprised when they unwrapped it.

The carefully opened package contained a nearly complete Sapphire Leopard skin!!!  So this was the reason the residents of Yawla Redef had requested a personal visit from a Cryptid Hunter!  It was too important to risk shipping it to C.H.I. offices via ordinary routes.  This was BIG!!

A note from the residents told that they had found it in the forest, very near the spot where Sassy found the three blue hairs.  It had died of old age!  They thought it could be important to Cryptid Hunters, so they had sent an urgent message to the C.H.I. Hotline.

Sassy had scored her first coup for the Cryptid  Hotline.  And M.S. Dort was the lucky scientist who would first study this ultra-rare find.  There would be scientific papers to write!  And lectures to deliver!  They would be famous!!

It wasn’t enough for Sassy to have made a major scientific find and have her name prominently posted in all C.H.I. offices and be lauded in the press.  No.

She ordered some fabric made to resemble the pelt and had her seamstress make a dress from it.  She could just picture herself doing a lecture tour wearing her blue and black dress.  She would stand proudly at the podium and deliver a speech about the way she had saved the hairs and skin for science!

******THE END******

P.S.  Many of you guessed correctly that TC Vollum carved Hitty Sassy!!

The Hotline’s Red Phone was flashing insistently as the girl entered the office of CRYPTID HUNTERS INTERNATIONAL.  Their motto was “Did you see it?  Did you hear it?  We Investigate it!”

Could this be her first case?

CRYPTID HOTLINE

ALERT!!  ALERT!!  ALERT!!

Cryptid reported in Yawla Redef

Photo taken

Evidence collected

Request Cryptid Hunter ASAP

All available Hunters please acknowledge

It was a report from the isolated area known as Yawla Redef.  This is what she had been waiting and hoping for.  The residents reported sighting a Sapphire Leopard!  And someone had a photo!!  But they wouldn’t take the chance of mailing the photo.  They wanted a Cryptid Hunter to visit them in person and pick up the image.  Could someone come RIGHT AWAY?

Crypto Hitty Idaho Jones was known as Sassy.  That was short for Sasquatch, “a mysterious ape-like creature said to inhabit remote forests, mainly in the Pacific Northwest region of the United States and the Canadian province of British Columbia.”  Sasquatch, also known as Bigfoot, had been her first introduction to the cryptid world during her training.

Sassy felt she was born as a cryptid hunter.  Her carver infused her with a love for the mysterious, and as soon as her lips were finished, she began a conversation with her carver and the carver’s children.  Oh, the tales she was told!  Oh, the mysterious creatures she heard about from them.  She was only a few days old when she flew across a vast ocean to begin her training.

And now the Sapphire Leopard could be her first investigation as a licensed Cryptid Hunter!

She rushed to the office computer and replied to the Alert.  Would she be the first to respond? She held her breath until she learned that she had been approved to travel to Yawla Redef.  HOORAY!!

When Sassy arrived in Yawla Redef, she immediately went to the location given in the Hotline Report.  The residents were more than willing to give her the photograph they had taken, and she excitedly took it in her hands.

What?? This was NOT what she expected to see.  Here’s the photo:

What a letdown.  The blue skin of the Sapphire Leopard they said they had found was barely visible in the photo, and it was very blurry and out-of-focus.  Sassy’s spirits drooped.

But then she remembered her training, and asked if they would take her to the place where the photo was taken.  “Sure,” the said.  “It’s not too far from here.  Follow us.”

It was very wet in the rain forest.  Even the tree trunks were wet from the near-steady rain in the area.  The forest floor was soft and squishy with moss.

The trail was poorly marked.  It went up hills and it went down hills.  Sassy persevered, knowing that other Cryptid Hunters were depending on her to take home as much evidence as she could.  The Sapphire Leopard was new to science, was unverified, and any small proof (that blurry photo was not valid in her opinion) would be welcomed.

At last they reached the part of the forest where the residents had found what they said was further evidence of a passing Sapphire Leopard.  They pointed out the exact tree branch where they had found their evidence.

“Aha!”  Sassy found three blue hairs, the only trace that was left.

‘Well, this is better than nothing, and it’s a whole lot better than that blurry photo,’ she thought to herself.  To the residents she said “Thank you very much.  I’ll pick these up with tweezers, put them in a sterile bag and take them home to the scientists.  The hairs could provide very valuable DNA evidence.”

They they all trekked back to the village.

Sassy was extremely disappointed that her very first case was turning out to be nothing more than a wild goose chase.  The residents noticed her mood, and offered her a cup of hot tea.  While she was thus occupied, they excitedly sent a small boy to retrieve a wrapped package from its hiding place.

“Please miss, take this package back to the scientists.  But DO NOT OPEN IT UNTIL IT IS IN THEIR LABORATORY!”

End of Part 1———-Can you guess who carved Hitty Sassy??