On March 15, 2026, I had the chance to be part of something that felt less like an event and more like stepping straight into a living piece of true crime and film history involving the infamous Phantom Killer of Texarkana.
Hosted by On Set Cinema and Myers House NC organized the screening of The Town That Dreaded Sundown in Texarkana was one of those rare experiences where atmosphere, storytelling, and fandom all collide.
From the moment check-in began at Silvermoon on Broad, you could feel the energy. Fans of the film, true crime enthusiasts, and curious newcomers gathered with a shared sense of anticipation. And then—there he was.
The “Andy guy” everyone was talking about: Andy Abele, fully suited up in the Phantom Killer costume, casually posing for photos like he had just stepped off the set. Knowing he portrayed the Phantom in the meta sequel made those photo ops even cooler—it was like the legend had stepped right out of the screen and into the streets of Texarkana.
He was super engaging with fans which made the event extra special attendees.
Walking Through the Legend
The evening wasn’t just about watching a movie. It was about walking into the story. The guided tour leading up to the screening added a whole new dimension, grounding the film in the real-life terror of the Texarkana Moonlight Murders. By the time the movie started the line between fiction and reality had already begun to blur.
A tour of Texarkana filming locations was lots of fun.
As someone who has long been a fan of the original 1976 film, seeing it presented this way was something special. That gritty, semi-documentary style that made it so unsettling decades ago still holds up today.
And I’ll say this—I’m also a big fan of the meta sequel, which took a bold approach by folding the original film into its own narrative. Seeing both interpretations come together in spirit at this event made the experience even richer.
Dark Outdoors & The Real Story Behind the Phantom
A big part of why this event resonated so deeply with me is tied to the my Dark Outdoors® podcast—especially the episode I created focused on the Phantom Killer case.
How the Phantom Killer operated—and what those methods reveal about similar predators today
A rare eyewitness account of a white-masked figure seen during the original attacks
Insights from John Tennison, a clinical psychiatrist and first cousin once removed of one of the top Phantom Killer suspects
Behind-the-scenes stories from Pamula Pierce Barcelou
And even a personal brush with danger that underscores why awareness still matters
It’s one of the most intense investigations I’ve done—blending true crime, history, film, and real-world outdoor safety.
A Book in the Works… and Fouke Monster Festival
Experiencing this event firsthand has only fueled my own creative fire. I’m currently writing a book centered around this very subject—the Phantom Killer, the cultural impact of the film, and the ongoing fascination with this case.
I’m excited to share that the book is planned for release at the upcoming Fouke Monster Festival in Fouke, Arkansas, happening April 24–25, 2026—and I’ll also be there speaking about this case, the research behind it, and the connections between true crime, film, and outdoor awareness.
If you’re into cryptids, folklore, Southern mysteries—or legends like the Fouke Monster made famous in The Legend of Boggy Creek—this festival is absolutely worth the trip.
Final Thoughts: Don’t Miss These Events
What On Set Cinema and Myers House NC are doing with these screenings is something truly unique. It’s not just about watching a movie—it’s about experiencing it. The attention to detail, the atmosphere, the guest appearances—it all comes together in a way that feels authentic and memorable.
I highly recommend attending any event they put together. Whether you’re a horror fan, a true crime buff, or just someone looking for something different, these events deliver.
Texarkana will always carry the shadow of the Phantom—but for one night, we got to step into that shadow, face it, and appreciate the stories it continues to inspire.
Chester Moore
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Quicksand is one of those outdoor dangers people tend to dismiss as Hollywood nonsense. It brings to mind old movies and exaggerated survival tales, not something you’d expect to encounter on a normal hike, hunt, or fishing trip. That assumption has proven deadly.
Quicksand is real, and people still die because of it.
In the outdoors, quicksand most often forms when sand, silt, or clay becomes saturated with water and loses its ability to support weight. Riverbanks, marshes, tidal flats, floodplains, desert washes, and even urban creeks are common places for it to develop. The danger isn’t that it “swallows” people whole—that part is largely myth. The real threat is becoming trapped.
Once stuck, victims can succumb to exhaustion, hypothermia, dehydration, or drowning, especially if water levels rise or temperatures drop.
There are modern, well-documented cases. In 2016, a man walking across tidal flats in the United Kingdom became trapped in mud that behaved like quicksand. He was unable to free himself before the tide came in and drowned. Similar incidents have occurred in Alaska’s mudflats, where the sediment is so unstable that even heavy equipment has been pulled under.
Closer to home, a case in San Antonio a few years back highlights an important and often misunderstood factor—high water conditions. A man became trapped in thick mud along a creek bed during elevated water levels and was unable to escape despite rescue efforts.
That scenario makes complete sense.
High or recently high water dramatically increases the risk of quicksand-like conditions. When creeks and rivers rise, fast-moving water saturates fine sediments like sand, silt, and clay. As water slows, pools, or begins to recede, that moisture becomes trapped beneath the surface. Pressure from below causes the sediment to lose strength and behave like a liquid. In some cases, a thin crust forms on top, making the ground appear solid when it is anything but.
Urban creeks are especially dangerous after storms. Floodwaters deposit layers of soft sediment, and drainage systems can create upward water pressure. Someone stepping onto what looks like firm ground can suddenly break through and sink rapidly, often to knee or waist depth. Once that suction sets in, escape becomes extremely difficult without help.
Quicksand often looks deceptively normal. It may appear smoother, darker, or shinier than surrounding ground. In marshes, it can hide beneath grass or algae. On riverbanks, it often forms where water seeps upward through sand. Areas where animals avoid walking can be a subtle warning sign.
If you do step into quicksand or deep mud, panic will make things worse. Jerking your leg upward increases suction. Instead, stop and stay calm. Slowly lean back to spread your weight, gently wiggle your foot side to side to allow water in, and reduce suction. If possible, remove heavy packs. Lying flat and rolling away can sometimes be the safest escape.
Avoidance is the best defense. Be cautious after heavy rain or flooding. Don’t walk alone in marshes, tidal flats, or unfamiliar creek beds. Check tide charts in coastal areas. Use a stick to probe ground ahead of you.
Quicksand doesn’t announce itself. It works quietly, often in places people least expect. In the outdoors—and sometimes even close to home—what’s under your feet can be just as dangerous as anything with teeth or claws.
Chester Moore
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A dire wolf has been brought back through modern genetic science — and I sat down with the company executive overseeing the project to understand exactly how it happened.
In this in-depth interview, we discuss dire wolf cloning, de-extinction science, CRISPR gene editing, ancient DNA recovery, conservation biotechnology, and what this breakthrough could mean for endangered species, ecosystem restoration, and the future of wildlife management.
Is this true de-extinction?
Could extinct animals like the woolly mammoth or saber-toothed cat be next?
What are the ethical concerns around cloning predators?
It’s a fascinating conversation and this is just the beginning.
Part two will come next week as we dive into how this technology might have an impact on the highly endangered red wolf breeding program.
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I could almost hear “Ki Ki Ki Ma Ma Ma” echoing in the forest.
Excitement at the opportunity to be in the woods alone, early in the morning in a remote tract had now turned to…well…fright.
Just ahead of me on a lonely creek bottom was a structure cobbled together with boards, pipes and tarps. It looked eerily familiar to the home of slasher Jason Voorhees on Friday the 13th Pt. 2.
I was not just in the woods but the super deep woods about as far from people as you can get in the eastern third of Texas.
The more likely answer is this was someone’s meth lab-something I have always hoped I would never find.
Had I stumbled upon the living quarters o some deranged person out there? There are instances of people in this region living off the land and never coming out in the region so maybe it was just a hermit.
I did not stick around to investigate.
I was considering turning in what I found but a few days later it became a moot point.
Hurricane Harvey’s epic rains hit Southeast Texas and the nearest homes to the location had 6-8 feet of water in them. This spot would’ve been deeper than that so if Jason did live in there, he had to make a new home.
I haven’t returned to ask him how it turned out.
Chad Meadows encountered something similar when he was a young teen.
“One day me and my cousin got bored so,we grabbed the machete and our bb guns and went off exploring,” he said.
“This was on a levee in Deweyville, TX. We went down by the river and came across some trees that were clearly cut down with an axe and formed into a 10×10 half walled fort. We found the jackpot or so we thought.”
“During our firefight with the enemy, we saw another fort a couple hundred feet away, but covered in a dingy white canvas tarp. We needed a fallback position so we checked out this new, smaller fort. We thought we had stumbled on a hunter’s camp. The second place had a bunch of barrels and pots and copper tubing. We didn’t know what it was but it was hidden so we decided to get out of there,” Meadows said.
So, off the duo went.
When they got a few feet away a “wildman” with what he described as a ZZ Top beard came running and yelling and waving a shotgun.
“We took off. I remember him firing the gun and I could hear the pellets peppering the trees around us. We weren’t hit but we were scared. We didn’t tell our parents because my uncle would have gone after the man. A few days later, their dog came up missing, only to be found dead just in the woods near where we set off on our adventure,” Meadow said.
The moral of the story? If you find rickety structures in the forest get out. Quickly.
Chance are its someone hiding out or hiding something in the remoteness of the forest.
However my imagination and the amount of times I viewed the second Friday the 13th as a kid won’t rule out a slasher with a white sack over his head.
Plus there is the time I was driving down a remote road not too far from this location and saw a guy in overalls rocking on a porch with a sack over his head. When I came back through a couple of hours later he was still there.
I hope I never encounter him in the forest
I know Jason is a fictional character but this guys outfit was too close of a match to the iconic movie slasher for my comfort and this was in July, not on Halloween.
Creepy, huh?
Chester Moore
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Spoken somberly from a National Forest Service game warden, those words got my attention.
As we conversed at the National Wild Turkey Federation convention in Nashville, he told me he had worked Humboldt County, Ca.
And as I related a personal experience from there nearly 20 years ago, he recommended the six-part Netflix series.
“There are missing people, murders, and drug trafficking. You were lucky to get out,” he said.
After studying a map, I was probably 10 miles or so from the actual Murder Mountain documented in the series but deep in a county with many missing people, murders, and mayhem.
In 2002 me and my father set out on a mission to explore the Pacific Northwest after my great white shark cage dive adventure in San Francisco. I had heard a bit about pot growers in the area but nothing that seemed worse than where I live in East Texas.
Boy was I wrong.
One night on our trip we set out to try out our new night vision goggles and to record night wildlife sounds in the stunningly beautiful mountains in the Trinity Alps. When I tell you this was in the middle of nowhere it might be hard for you to imagine just how far unless you’ve been to that part of the world.
We pulled up a few minutes after the sunset and planned to stay through the night.
As Dad started taking out the equipment, I walked over to a good viewing spot to look down into the valley with the night vision goggles.
The moon was full, so visibility was high.
If anything came into the clearings below, we should get a glimpse, I thought.
Then I saw it.
A beam of light shot up toward our position.
“Dad, did you see that?” I asked as I pulled off the goggles.
“What?”
“A light beam just shone toward us,” I replied.
“I didn’t see it,’ he said.
Neither did I now that the goggles were off.
I put them back on, and a few seconds later I could see the light beam moving up toward us. I took them off and couldn’t see the light.
Immediately I knew that someone was below, traveling with night vision and using an infrared light only visible with night vision technology.
The drug activity warning hit me, and I readied to retreat. I knew whoever was down there was not listening for bugling elk like we were.
Just as I shouted for Dad to throw the gear back in the SUV, headlights of a vehicle came on about 3/4 mile ahead of us.
We were on one side of a logging road that cut across a mountain.
This was on the other side of the mountain road. Someone had been signaled.
We shoved our gear into the SUV and sped out of there, but by the time we hit the road so did the truck from the other side. They were headed straight for us. At one point I was going 80 down the mountain, and they were just a few feet away—literally an arm’s length from hitting us.
I knew that was their goal.
After what seemed like forever, we got to the base of the mountain on one of the main roads going toward Willow Creek. As soon as we turned back toward that little city, they turned back up the mountain.
Over the years I have learned a few things about staying safe in the woods from people with bad intentions. Please share this with others.
It could save their lives.
#Bad Vibes: If you feel bad about going into an area don’t go. I believe sometimes this is the Lord telling me to stay away. You may not believe that, but just call it a “gut feeling” and go with it.
#Never Alone: As much as I love to be in the distant forest alone with my camera—don’t you do it. Always bring someone along. Preferably someone who is experienced in the woods. You are far more likely to get hurt by evil people if you are alone.
#Pack Heat: If it’s legal where you are then use your Second Amendment right and carry a firearm. Make sure you are trained in its use and be prepared to do what is necessary.
Better you defend yourself against a maniac than become a statistic. Also, carry a large knife with you. In close quarters it could save your life.
#Study the Area: The Internet is a great tool for studying areas. If you find out an area is a high drug trafficker area for, for example, avoid it like the plague.
Stay away!
I have several areas I no longer frequent because of this issue.
#Stay Calm: If you do encounter people in the woods who seem uneasy or a bit shifty, stay calm. Getting angry or showing fear is a good way to trigger someone who has violent tendencies.
#Travel Plan: Leave your spouse or close friends a travel plan and let them know the points you plan to explore. Give them a time frame. Let them know to call for help if you have not returned by a certain time or day.
#Strategic Parking: Always park your vehicle facing out of the area as you check out. In a tight spot, you don’t want to have to back up and turn around during a retreat. Also park in a spot in a clear area that you can see from a distance. If someone is waiting on you or has moved into the spot, it will give you a chance to assess the situation and prepare.
#Don’t Try to be a Hero: If you see strangers poaching in the woods at night for example, don’t be a hero and try to stop them. They are armed and probably will use their weapons on you if you try to stop them. Call and report activity to local game wardens and get out as quickly as possible.
#Buy And Carry a Beacon: I carry a Spot-X beacon that will alert all rescue personnel at the touch of a button. Don’t rely just on a cell phone. Get a beacon of some kind too.
#Talk To Locals: Not all information is on social media. Talking to locals in a gun shop or sporting goods store can give you good intel on the local region.
Seeking wildlife is one of the most exciting things a person can do, but it has its share of dangers. Keep these tips in mind and you should be available to avoid any serious trouble.
Chester Moore
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Thick white fur. A heavy, rounded body. A shape that doesn’t belong in Southern pine woods. In a single trail camera frame, it looks less like a feral hog and more like something out of place, almost unreal.
Raul Alcocer sent me this photo and I showed it to a hog hunter-trapper and he called it a “polar bear hog.”
But behind the humor is a more uncomfortable truth. This animal is real, and its existence points back to human decisions that continue to reshape the wild in unpredictable ways.
The photo shows a massive white, woolly hog moving through a forest clearing. It doesn’t resemble the lean, dark feral hogs most hunters know. The coat is thick. The body is heavy. The overall look is startling enough that experienced outdoorsmen questioned what they were seeing.
As the image circulated, similar stories followed. Reports of giant white hogs, unusually thick-coated pigs, and animals that didn’t match modern expectations of wild hogs at all began coming in from across the South.
This isn’t a mystery species. It’s the long shadow of escaped and released domestic animals.
For generations, pigs were imported, bred, traded, abandoned, and sometimes intentionally released. Some were heritage breeds with thick coats and heavy builds. Others escaped farms or were turned loose when they became difficult to manage. Once those animals entered the wild, there was no undoing it.
Their genetics didn’t disappear. They spread.
Over time, those traits mixed into feral populations, resurfacing decades later in animals like this one. The result can be hogs that look nothing like what people expect, even though they are entirely real.
Feral hogs are already one of the most destructive invasive species in North America. They damage crops, destroy habitat, spread disease, and alter ecosystems. Adding unpredictable genetics into the mix only compounds the problem.
Large, heavy-bodied hogs with thick coats may survive colder conditions better, range farther, and compete more aggressively with native wildlife. What began as a domestic decision, a release, an escape, or a failure to contain, becomes a long-term ecological problem.
This isn’t ancient history. It’s still happening.
The “polar bear hog” isn’t a myth or a monster. It’s a reminder. The outdoors carries the consequences of human actions long after people walk away. Animals released into the wild don’t disappear. They adapt, survive, and sometimes come back in forms no one expects.
What looks strange on a trail camera today can become a serious problem tomorrow.
I break down the image, the genetics behind woolly feral hogs, and how escaped and released animals continue to shape the wild in the full video investigation below.
If you’ve encountered unusually large, white, or thick-coated feral hogs, or have firsthand experience with animals escaping or being released, those observations matter. The outdoors is keeping score, whether we acknowledge it or not.
The first time my friend and filmmaker Paul Fuzinski and I went into the Everglades and Big Cypress Swamp to investigate reports linked to the Skunk Ape, we approached it as a field problem, not a folklore story.
Florida’s Bigfoot phenomenon has persisted for decades, and we wanted to understand whether some of its core elements — particularly vocalizations and behavior — could point toward feral primates or another biological explanation rooted in the landscape itself.
We went to listen.
South Florida at night is a different world. During the day, the swamps are alive with birds, insects, and human noise bleeding in from roads and towns. After dark, that noise collapses into something more focused. Sound carries farther. Depth becomes difficult to judge. You begin to hear layers instead of individual animals.
It was creepy but cool in The Everglades searching for feral monkeys and apes.
We were working a location that had produced repeated reports of people hearing what they described as “howler monkey–like vocalizations.” These weren’t internet stories or secondhand rumors. They were firsthand accounts from people who knew the woods well enough to recognize when something didn’t belong.
Here’s the Wild Man of the Woods episode from the trip.
After sunset, we shut down the lights and let the swamp settle. Later, we played primate calls in the forest. It was response testing. If something was there, we wanted to know how it behaved.
That night didn’t provide answers.
But it raised better questions.
Why the Southern Bigfoot Narrative Doesn’t Fit Cleanly
Most Bigfoot discussions default to the Pacific Northwest: massive forests, low human density, and distances measured in days of walking. The South doesn’t work like that. Our wild places are fragmented, wet, and biologically dense. They hide animals differently.
Howler monkey.
In the American South — and especially in Florida — the issue isn’t how something avoids being seen. It’s how something avoids being identified.
Swamps distort sound. Vegetation absorbs light. Heat, humidity, and rainfall erase tracks quickly. And unlike the Pacific Northwest, the South has a long, documented history of escaped and released exotic animals, including primates.
That single fact alone demands a different conversation.
Feral Primates Are Not Hypothetical
Florida has hosted non-native primates for decades. Escaped monkeys have survived longer than expected. Small populations have persisted. Primates are intelligent, adaptable, and highly capable of learning how to avoid people.
If even a small number of larger primates — whether escaped, released, or illegally imported — found refuge in deep, inaccessible habitat, their behavior would not resemble zoo animals.
They would behave like wild apes.
This possibility becomes especially relevant when you examine southern Bigfoot reports that don’t line up neatly with the classic Pacific Northwest model.
Some vocalizations reported in the South, particularly those described as long, rolling, guttural calls, align far more closely with howler monkeys than with bears, cats, or known North American wildlife.
That observation is not theoretical. It is based on direct comparison.
During my work investigating reports in Texas and Louisiana, I encountered vocalizations that didn’t match any North American species I knew. I’ve heard cougars, black bears, feral hogs, bobcats, owls, and even jaguars in captivity. None of them produced the sounds I heard in the field.
The closest comparison came years earlier during an excursion into the rainforests of Venezuela, where I encountered howler monkeys. The tone, the power, and the rolling nature of the calls were strikingly similar, though the sounds reported in the South were often more aggressive and varied.
In Texas near the town of Dilley is a feral population of Japanese macaques that have been there since the 1970s.
They are linked to the Born Free Sanctuary and are descendants of animals brought into the United States from their native Japan in the 1970s. There is without question free-ranging monkeys all around that area and I have received numerous photos from hunters in the area over the years.
A Japanese macaque photographed at a deer feeder near Dilley, TX.
How many have escaped the sanctuary over the years or are living in the wild is debatable but their presence in the area is not. And it’s intriguing that these monkeys, sometimes called ‘snow monkeys” due to famous photos showing them near Mount Fuji in the winter have adapted quite well to south Texas hot, dusty habitat.
Florida is also home to thriving communities of non-native monkeys that have captured the imagination of locals and tourists alike.
The story of Florida’s feral monkeys begins decades ago, with the importation of exotic wildlife for the amusement of tourists. In the early 20th century, the Silver Springs attraction in Ocala imported rhesus macaques from Asia, initially as a novelty for their jungle boat tours. These monkeys, however, managed to escape and establish themselves in the surrounding forests.
Florida is currently home to two main species of feral monkeys – rhesus macaques and vervet monkeys. Rhesus macaques are known for their distinctive red faces, while vervets are characterized by their striking blue scrotums (in males) and greenish-gray fur. Both species have adapted remarkably well to their new environment.
Rhesus monkeys in Florida.
Feral monkey populations in Florida are found primarily in three areas:
Silver Springs State Park, Ocala: This is where it all began. The rhesus macaque population here has thrived for decades. They are often seen near the park’s waters, providing visitors with an unexpected wildlife encounter.
Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park: Located along Florida’s Gulf Coast, this park is home to a population of rhesus macaques. They share the habitat with manatees and other native wildlife, creating a unique ecosystem.
Dania Beach and Fort Lauderdale: In the southern part of the state, vervet monkeys have established a presence.
The presence of feral monkeys in Florida has sparked debates about their ecological impact. Concerns include competition with native species for resources and the potential transmission of diseases. Research is ongoing to assess the extent of their impact on local ecosystems.
These feral monkey populations have become a tourist attraction of their own. Visitors flock to Silver Springs State Park and Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park to catch a glimpse of these charismatic primates. Local businesses have also capitalized on the vervet monkeys in the Dania Beach and Fort Lauderdale areas, offering monkey-watching tours.
tions in Florida presents unique challenges. Their adaptability and reproductive rates make it difficult to control their numbers. Efforts have been made to sterilize some individuals to slow population growth, but this approach remains controversial.
A story in The Guardian details an interesting note about one of these populations.
“Researchers at Florida Atlantic University (FAU) say they have traced the colony’s origins to the Dania Chimpanzee Farm. The South Florida Sun Sentinel reported on Wednesday there was a monkey escape from the farm in 1948, with most of the monkeys recaptured. But not all of them. The rest disappeared into a mangrove swamp, where their descendants live today. The FAU team said the colony currently numbers about 41.”
The facility had numerous chimpanzees and was not the only facility with apes in Florida.
According to Roadside America, Mae Noell’s Chimp Farm was a resilient gulf coast retirement home for gorillas, orangutans, and chimps. It was closed in 2007.
Cryptozoologists have pondered if reports of skunk apes that look more orangutan-like than standard bigfoot repots could be the result of surviving and perhaps breeding populations of escaped apes.
One of the more interesting cryptozoological reports tied to skunk apes of the last 25 years involves the case of Florida’s mysterious Myakka Ape.
The Myakka Ape photo. Looks like an orangutan, doesn’t it?
Loren Coleman reported on this orangutan-like creature that allegedly was taking fruit off of a woman’s porch near the Myakka River in Florida. Photos were mailed to local law enforcement. It looks very much like an orangutan, but no one has been able to prove exactly what the creature is.
There are numerous reports of primates in the South that do not fit the normal bigfoot profile. Could these be the results of feral monkey or ape sightings?
Loren Coleman and Patrick Huyghe weigh in on this topic in their book The Field Guide to Bigfoot and Other Mysterious Primates.
They identify a classification called “Giant Monkeys”.
“Some of the mystery primates around the world describe what appear to be enormous monkeys.”
They talk specifically about the “devil monkey”, a strange giant monkey that apparently has an attitude. This isn’t the place to dive deep on these reports, but I thought feral primates and strange cryptid monkeys deserved a mention in the discussion of Bigfoot South.
The most interesting report of all is linked to East Texas conservation giant, the man credited with conserving the Big Thicket Lance Rosier. It is covered in Pete Gunter’s A Challenge For Conservation.
“It seems that one day someone found the remains of what was described as a baboon alongside a Hardin County highway. The story goes that a passing one ring circus had a passing in its meager menagerie and simply dumped the remains.”
It was reportedly brought to Rosier for identification.
He said, “From the look on its face and its stooped neck, and the callouses on the seat of its britches, I’d say it’s a retired East Texas domino player.”
Sounds like a baboon to me.
Feral apes would not explain all or even most of the reports in Florida but they could explain some of them.
And I personally would love to have a camera in hand coming face to face with a feral orangutan in the deep Everglades.
It would be scary but also quite awesome!
(If you have encountered a feral primate, heard strange vocalizations or seen something unusual in the woods email your report to chester@chestermoore.com.
Chester Moore
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For decades, people across Texas and the Southwest have reported strange hairless creatures attacking livestock — animals many claimed were the legendary Chupacabra.
But the real explanation is just a strange and we have it on my latest YouTube video.
In this Dark Outdoors® video episode and wildlife investigatio cross-over I break down the true wildlife science behind “Chupacabra” sightings and shows how coyotes, foxes, raccoons — and even bears — suffering from severe mange can transform into nightmarish creatures.
You’ll see:
What coyotes with mange REALLY look like
Why mange causes extreme hair loss, blackened skin, and deformities
How predators change behavior when sick, making them seem “mysterious” or “unnatural”
The difference between myth, hoax, and legitimate wildlife cases
This was an interesting topic to tackle and it’s one that will probably generate some controversy because I do believe there is a pretty simple solution to a very strange legend.
Chester Moore
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Residents in the Texas Hill Country have reported a troubling pattern: individuals going door-to-door claiming to be wildlife researchers and asking for permission to shoot deer on private land. Authorities are concerned it is a poacher scam.
The men say they are studying deer diseases, including Chronic Wasting Disease, and they present themselves as being affiliated with Texas A&M University.
After multiple calls from concerned homeowners, the City of Kerrville Police Department confirmed that the claims are false and that there is no legitimate program sending researchers door-to-door for deer harvesting.
According to police and wildlife officials, legitimate biologists do not show up unannounced, do not pressure landowners for immediate access, and do not request permission to shoot deer on the spot.
Both Texas A&M and Texas Parks and Wildlife have stated publicly that they are not involved in any operation resembling what these men are describing. That means whoever is knocking on doors is doing so under false pretenses and for reasons authorities believe could involve poaching.
Using CWD concerns to gain access to poach is a new ploy. CWD is a fatal disease for whitetails.
This scam works because it sounds believable. With rising concerns about CWD and increased surveillance in parts of the state, a person claiming to be a researcher may initially sound credible. But real wildlife disease sampling is highly structured. It runs through scheduled landowner partnerships, designated research teams, or official collection stations, not strangers appearing unexpectedly with rifles and a story.
What makes this situation genuinely dangerous is not just the poaching angle. Allowing an unknown person with a firearm onto your property carries risks far beyond the fate of a deer. There are issues of safety, liability, potential property crime, and the possibility that these individuals are using the “researcher” cover to access land they otherwise couldn’t reach or perhaps they have even worse intentions.
This also damages public trust in legitimate wildlife science. Biologists and conservationists often rely on cooperation from landowners, and scams like this make residents more wary of genuine research programs. It’s an erosion of goodwill that takes years to rebuild.
Texas landowners are being urged to verify the identity of anyone claiming to be a biologist or agency representative. Ask for credentials, call the agency directly using a publicly listed number, and never feel pressured into granting immediate access. If anything feels off about the situation, law enforcement recommends turning the individuals away and reporting the encounter.
The outdoors can be unpredictable. We expect the challenges that come from wildlife, weather, and rugged terrain. But sometimes the most unsettling dangers are human — and they come not from the deep woods, but from a knock at the front door.
Dark Outdoors® will continue to monitor this situation and provide updates as more information becomes available.
Remember before heading outdoors – Pray. Prepare. And pack heat.
Chester Moore
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A father and son, out for a night of bull red fishing at High Island, Texas, watched in disbelief as a white van crept across the moonlit sand. The man behind the wheel stepped out, dragging what looked like a body wrapped in a tarp into the dunes.
“Son, we’ve got to get out of here. Something’s wrong,” the father whispered.
That quiet, panicked retreat would become a memory that haunted the boy for decades — because just months later, bodies began to surface at High Island.
They weren’t the only ones to notice something sinister that night. What they had witnessed was the evil handiwork of Dean Corll, one of America’s most horrifying serial killers — a name few recognize today, even though his crimes rivaled the worst of Ted Bundy and John Wayne Gacy.
The Candyman’s Secret Burial Grounds
Dean Corll, later dubbed “The Candyman,” murdered at least 27 boys and young men between 1970 and 1973, many with the help of two teenage accomplices — Elmer Wayne Henley and David Brooks.
Henley was only 15 when he began luring victims to Corll’s Pasadena home under the guise of parties and money. The result was a horror story so grim that even police veterans wept when they unearthed the boys’ remains from shallow graves in Houston’s Heights, at Sam Rayburn Reservoir, and beneath the dunes of High Island
Dean Corll
One caller to the Texas radio show I hosted for yeras-decades later recounted that night on the beach with his dad. The story gave birth to the kind of cautionary tales that inspired Dark Outdoors: real experiences in wild places where danger isn’t always an animal in the brush… sometimes it’s human.
From the Dunes to the Headlines: Henley Denied Parole Again
Now, more than 50 years later, the darkness of that night has reemerged in the news.
As reported by KHOU this week, Elmer Wayne Henley has once again been denied parole, marking yet another reminder of how the evil born in the Texas wilds still echoes through our time.
“Henley, who was 17 when he helped lure victims to Dean Corll, has been behind bars for more than five decades,” KHOU reported. “He was denied parole for the 14th time.”
“Families of the victims still live with the pain,” the article notes, “as the man who helped bury their sons in the sand seeks freedom.”
Henley, now in his mid-60s, has spent his life claiming that he, too, was a victim of Corll — that he only participated out of fear. But those who lost loved ones haven’t forgotten that he helped lead investigators to the bodies, including the very ones buried in the High Island dunes.
Dark Outdoors: Evil in Unexpected Places
What makes the High Island encounter so haunting isn’t just its proximity to evil — it’s how ordinary outdoor adventures can cross paths with the unimaginable.
Fishing trips, hunting excursions, hiking trails — these are places where we seek solitude and connection with nature. Yet, as the Candyman murders remind us, the outdoors can sometimes conceal the darkest chapters of human nature.
“We go outdoors to enjoy ourselves,” the storyteller reflects, “but we need to be aware of what’s going on. Monsters are real — and they might want to bury a body in the dunes where you’re fishing at night.”High Island Encounter with Seri…
Legacy of the Lost Boys
They called them the Lost Boys — the young victims who vanished from Houston’s neighborhoods, never to return. The name would later echo in pop culture, but its origins were rooted in tragedy.
Those boys’ stories remind us that awareness, vigilance, and gut instinct can save lives. Sometimes, when your father says “Something’s wrong”, he’s right.
Never forget the victims.
At Dark Outdoors, we tell these stories not just to chill you — but to make you think, prepare, and stay aware, whether you’re deep in the woods or standing on a lonely beach beneath a full Texas moon.
Pray. Prepare. And pack heat.
Chester Moore
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