UFO'S of UAP'S, ASTRONOMIE, RUIMTEVAART, ARCHEOLOGIE, OUDHEIDKUNDE, SF-SNUFJES EN ANDERE ESOTERISCHE WETENSCHAPPEN

“Blame it on the Chupacabra” sounds like it could be the title of a country western song (note to self: dust off guitar and call agent) but it’s more likely to be the lament of farmers – particularly in Puerto Rico, Texas and Central and South America – who have lost goats, sheep and chickens under mysterious circumstances. However, cattle mutilations, at least in the U.S., are often attributed to aliens, especially if they occur in the 37th parallel latitude which is home to many UFO sightings. But not in Argentina, where a particularly brutal cow mutilation last week is being blamed on a Chupacabra. Unfortunately, this is eerily similar to another series of cattle mutilations in September 2018 in Argentina that were also blamed on Chupacabras. Are they connected? Is this story worthy of a song … or an investigation?

“The Chupacabras is back, in action , and with such inexplicable consequences that they never cease to surprise others and others. The precision of the cuts, the state of the animal that does not seem to decompose, the absence of scavengers, are some of the many curiosities that are in suspense to the town of La Paz, in Catamarca where the event occurred.”

Infocampo, an agricultural media source in Argentina, appears to be the first to report the incident on the farm owned by Ariel Sorribes in the northwestern province of Catamarca on the Chilean border. (Apologies to them for the poor Google translations.) After noticing the herd count down by one, a worker found the mutilated cow under a tree. Sorribes stated that the cow had been healthy and vaccinated. The site cautioned that the photos were horrific (see them here) and the report listed the missing organs (udder, vulva, anus, eyes, tongue, and maxillary muscle) and complimented the killer on the precise cuts made to remove them – cuts that in the U.S. would be blamed on aliens or a surgeon who dabbles as a weird rustler or a provider of organs to cults. But wait … there’s more:

“No one can make such a perfect cut with a scalpel, in addition all the wounds seem sealed. There are even rarer things, for example, no scavenger comes close to the body of the animal. Nothing eh, nothing at all. Not a carancho, not a vulture, nothing. Above, it seems that the meat does not decompose and is all intact.”

OK, now it’s getting strange … and beyond the powers of a normal Chupacabra. No decomposition, wounds sealed and no vultures. If only there were more pictures …

“In addition to all that, when the pawn wanted to take more pictures, his cell phone was turned off. He thought it was the battery that had run out, but no. Then came a teacher from a nearby school, because she wanted to film the cow, and neither did her cell phone … It is as if it were a magnetic field, or something that prevents taking pictures.”

Whoa! This is obviously the work of aliens, right? Farmer Ariel Sorribes asked for an answer and this is what he got from SENASA, the National Service of Agri-Food Health and Quality:

“For similar cases, SENASA has said that it is the work of the snout mouse.”

The what? Believe it or not, the Hocicudo is a long-snouted mouse that was blamed for the mutilations last year. Hocicudo are scavengers that like to dine on the soft parts of dead animals and there are plenty of dead animals in cattle country.

What about the dead phones? The precise cuts that seemed to heal themselves? The lack of vultures? The web site La Gran Epoca (The Epoch Times) says the ranchers are nervous because the unexplained mutilations have been going on for years. One explained the financial consequences:

“It’s not just in my field, it’s in the whole region. Behind the Cerrito killed five, in Malabrigo a while ago killed seven, a neighbor killed two, so they add up and when you get the count are 20 or 30 animals per month … and are 15,000 pesos (about 335 dollars) each heifer.”

Would you blame the Chupacabra? Aliens? If not those, then who … or what? What latitude is Catamarca? (28th south.) Does anyone dare follow it to search for more dead cattle?

In the meantime … what rhymes with Chupacabra besides macabre and candelabra?

I killed that Chupacabra
With my candelabra
It was real macabre

If there’s one thing, more than any other, that annoys me in the field of paranormal research, it’s an armchair researcher of the debunking kind. Time and time again I have heard the debunkers loudly assert (often in high-pitched, whiny voices, and with their arms firmly folded) that the chupacabra simply cannot, and does not, exist. How do they know? Well, actually, they don’t know. Have they personally visited Puerto Rico? For the most part, no, they have not. Have they sat down opposite a witness and actually spoken to them? Nope: Hardly more than the barest occasion. What they have done is to secure their data from that bastion of truth and reliability known as the Internet. Not a good sign, to say the least. As to why the debunkers piss me off so much, it’s not just as a result of their lazy approach and attitude. It’s because by not actually visiting the places in question, and speaking with the people on the ground, they are missing out on a wealth of untapped data that simply cannot be found by just opening Google and typing in the words “Puerto Rico + chupacabra.”

A perfect case in point: if the chupacabra is a real creature, ask the naysayers, then why did it suddenly surface out of nowhere in 1995? Well, actually, it didn’t. Yes, it did, they reply; the Internet says so. Well, yes, the Internet does say that. But try speaking to the locals. When you gain their confidence and trust you quickly find yourself immersed in a very different story. This was something that became abundantly clear to me just one day into my first expedition to Puerto Rico, in the summer of 2004. As well as a cameraman and director, our team was comprised of a sound guy and a couple of drivers, all of who were native to the island. On day two, we stopped for lunch at a road-side café and I got chatting with the guys. As I did so, something remarkable surfaced. All of them laughed and scoffed at the idea that the chupacabra was a modern day phenomenon. They pointed out that, yes, those emotive words – chupacabra and goat-sucker – were relatively new. No-one disputed that. They added, however, that blood-sucking monstrosities of vampire-like proportions had been reported across the island not just for years but for decades; at least since the 1970s. I could suggest that the saga of Frank Drake, and the vampire of Puerto Rico’s Arecibo Telescope, pushes the boundaries back to at least the 1960s.

Moca Plaza

What separated the earlier reports from those of the 1990s and the 2000s, I was told, was that they had largely been forgotten or overlooked. Plus, it was explained to me, the lack of the Internet in the 1970s meant that, just like Las Vegas, whatever happened on Puerto Rico largely stayed there. A perfect case in point, they said, was a beast that became known as the Moca Vampire. Noted for its fruit industry and cattle-farming, Moca is a cool place, filled with old and atmospheric buildings and surrounded by amazing forestland and green hills. The municipality was, back in the mid-1970s, home to something else, too: the Moca Vampire. It was a most apt title for a creature that caused brief havoc and mayhem in March 1975. Pigs, goats, chickens, geese, cattle, and even pets were found violently slaughtered, and specifically in the Barrio Rocha suburb of Moca. I know this, as not just the guys on the crew, but numerous locals in Moca itself too, were happy to reveal all during the course of my first excursion to the island.

Location of Moca

The bodies of the dead animals were quickly collected by the authorities and were subjected to necropsy, which was said to have demonstrated that at least some of them had been drained of notable amounts of blood. The people of the area, hardly surprisingly, were plunged into states of fear and anxiety. Children were kept indoors at night. Armed police patrolled the streets after sunset. Matters came to a horrific climax when the monster turned its attention away from animals and towards the human population. One of the most traumatic attacks occurred on March 25, when a woman was viciously clawed by what she described as a fearful-looking beast covered in feathers. Then another story surfaced. Utterly petrified by what occurred, the witness reported that late one night in March, a huge, winged monster landed on the zinc roof of her Moca home and let loose with an ear-splitting scream. She feared for her very life, as the mighty thing clanged around loudly in the darkness, only mere feet above her living room.

Just a couple of days later, a rancher in the area found more than thirty of his chickens dead, all slaughtered by a silent, stealthy killer. Overall, and across a two week period in March 1975, around ninety animals were killed and an untold number of Moca residents were living in downright terror. The monstrous affair was never resolved. Fortunately, however, the attacks stopped as mysteriously, and as quickly, as they had begun. It should be noted that, as I was told by the guys on the TV shoot, a theory did the rounds at the time that occultists, rather than a deadly monster, were the cause of the attacks; occultists whose activities revolved around sacrificial blood rites, for which the tale of the Moca Vampire offered convenient and ingenious cover. This was not the only time a story reached my ears to the effect that the assumed attacks of the blood-suckers of Puerto Rico were actually the creation of those that engaged in rite, ritual and sacrifice.