There is, perhaps, no other entity in horror literature that has been so deeply enshrined
in the rich, flowing tapestry of a culture and a people--than that of the Wendigo.
You see, whether it’s depiction differs from source to source, be it in early-17th
century literature, or more recently in television, graphic literature and visual media--the exact
transformation of this deeply complex and important creature can be traced through time
like the rings of an ancient redwood.
The thing is though--as this lore has more recently established itself firmly in horror
fiction as a whole--the legend of the Wendigo is as ancient and ever changing still.
But to understand it--we first have to peel back the layers of history in an attempt to
search for its roots.
So, let’s see what we can dig up.
Hello horror fans, what’s going on, and once again welcome back to the scariest channel
on YouTube--Top 5 Scary Videos.
As per usual, I’ll be your horror host Jack Finch--as today, we return to the Lore Explored--and
take a look--at the Wendigo.
Roll the clip.
Ehh.
Sorry there pal--but it’s not a Loon.
For the curious amongst you, that clip was from 2019’s Pet Sematary--based upon Stephen
King’s 1983 novel of the same name.
Which, for those of you that have read it--will know that it’s one of King’s most despairing
of tales--and also, that movie got quite a bit of stick--but hey, I thought it was pretty
good.
Also, interestingly enough--King’s adaptation decided to flesh out the age old tale of the
ancient burial ground of legend--by pairing it with the spirit of the Wendigo.
Which, is telling to modern fiction’s interpretation of the wendigo myth--but, as we’re about
to find out--there is far more to it than an antler bound revenant of the dead.
To first understand a creature or a concept--perhaps our first port of call should be the etymology
behind it.
The definition of the term Wendigo is a key part of the Oral Traditions of the Indigenous
People of North America.
And, well--that’s where we find our first problem--because as we will quickly find,
there are many different ways to portray the word Wendigo.
In the Ojibwe language--it is the Wiindigoo.
In the language of the Algonquin People--it is Widjigo.
In the Cree--it is the Wihtikow.
And in the Proto-Algonquian of the Algic--it is Wi-Nteko-Wa--which most likely translated
to Owl in their original language.
And this is where it is difficult to pinpoint the exact origin of the concept--or whether
there even *was* an origin point--and the Wendigo instead emerged into the psyche of
the Indigenous people of North America through a shared sense of moral obligation--or even
stranger still--the same shared experience.
That though, is pure speculation--but interestingly enough, there is a similar word--The Wechuge--that
depicts a similar being that appears in the legends of the Athabaskan People of the Northwest
Pacific Coast.
You see, much like the Wendigo, the Wechuge is a man-eating creature that devours flesh
as a curse and eternal punishment, but interestingly--the Wechuge of legend is instead inexplicably
tied to the creation mythos of a specific group of Athabaskan people.
The Dane-zaa--which roughly translates to Those Who Live Among The Beaver--who believe
that in their mythology, The Wechuge was a person who had become possessed or overwhelmed
by the power of one of the ancient giant spirit animals that formed the basis of their oral
tradition.
In most instances, the Wechuge is depicted as a creature formed of ice--and can only
be killed by being thrown into a campfire and kept their overnight until it has melted.
In some instances, however, this creature is even depicted as having wings--a rare occurrence
in the traditions of Native American legend--and a symbol of great importance.
Whichever depiction of the Wendigo Myth we take--one thing is for certain.
In the traditional belief systems of the Ojibwe, the Saulteaux, the Cree--the Naskapi, the
Innu--and many other Algonquin-speaking peoples of North America--The Wendigo is far more
than just a cautionary tale told to children over a campfire.
It is an integral part of their belief system--and in most cases--it served as a taboo reinforcement--both
a reminder and a warning of the hardships faced through winter.
No matter which depiction of the myth we pull apart, in each of them--the Wendigo is seen
as the embodiment of gluttony and greed--particularly in relation to the unbreakable taboo of cannibalism.
It is a cultural cornerstone--a warning sign of excess in consumption--and the creature
that would later form these warning signs would become the embodiment of that.
Now, that isn’t to say that the depiction of the Wendigo was always the same.
In some cases, particularly in regard to Ojibwe and Cree Lore--the Wendigo was often described
as a giant creature--many, many times larger than a human--a differing characteristic that
was absent from other Wendigo Myths of Algonquian Culture.
In these legends--whenever a wendigo would consume another person--it would grow larger,
in proportion to the meal it had just eaten--preventing it from ever sating it’s own hunger.
It always wanted more--never sated or content with it’s quarry.
That’s an important lesson--for all of us to learn, I think.
But still--this lead to the garish and oftentimes terrifying description of this creature--that
would later become the driving force behind it’s evolution from the 20th century onwards,
particularly when we analyse it’s depiction in modern horror fiction.
As Basil H. Johnston, an Ojibwe Teacher and Scholar from Ontario described in his 1995
book The Manitous--The Spirit World of the Ojibway:
The Wendigo was gaunt to the point of emaciation--its desiccated skin pulled tightly over its bones.
With its bones pushing out against its skin, its complexion the ash-gray of death, and
it’s eyes pushed back deep into their sockets--The Wendigo looked like a gaunt skeleton recently
disinterred from the grave.
What lips it had were tattered and blood--Unclean and suffering from suppuration of the flesh.
The Wendigo gave off a strange and eerie odor of decay and decomposition.
Of death--and corruption.
And this is where the modern depiction of the Wendigo gained traction as an entity of
horror fiction.
The Wendigo *is* terrifying.
A humanoid, supernatural creature--that exemplified an eternal hunger--and as European Settlers
made their way through North American, and the colonial period of the continent began
to tighten its grip around this ancient culture--the modern interpretation of the Wendigo was born.
And not only that--but as science and psychology came face to face with ancient oral traditions--the
exact concept of the Wendigo’s cultural purpose became something else entirely.
Wendigo Psychosis--a historical phenomena that is perhaps the reason with the Wendigo
Myth was so successful in later North American literature.
In 1661--as a chronicler and missionary for the Jesuit Relations made their way through
North America, they came across the first documented account of Wendigo Psychosis--as
a result of a reported case of desperation and cannibalism.
As he explained, the men that he came across were--
afflicted with neither lunacy, hypochondria, nor frenzy--but have a combination of all
these species of disease, which affects their imaginations and cause them a more than canine
hunger.
This makes them so ravenous for human flesh that they pounce upon women, children--and
even upon men--like veritable werewolves, and devour them voraciously--without being
able to appease or glut their appetite--ever seeking fresh prey, and the more greedily
the more they eat.
Whatever the interpretation of this report--it was an important moment in the later cultural
significance of the Wendigo--particularly with its relation as a genuine concern for
the rough and often inhospitable periods in Colonial North American history.
Now, The Wendigo, was far more than just a creature in a far off land--but instead, a
very real hardship faced in Winter--as the inexperienced fur trappers and settlers pushed
further into the New World--hearing tales from the Indigenous People of the land who
had grew to fear it over generations.
However, one of the more famous cases of Wendigo Psychosis came several hundred years later,
with the tale of a Plains Cree Trapper named Swift Runner.
During the harsh winter of 1878--Swift Runner and his family were stranded and starving
in the wilderness of Saskatchewan.
Soon--despite being twenty-five miles away from an emergency food cache of the Hudson’s
Bay Company--Swift Runner’s eldest son perished--and shortly afterward--Swift Runner allegedly
butchered and ate his wife and five remaining children.
The case was both strange and shocking--and given that the Plains Cree trapper resorted
to cannibalism in such close proximity to the emergency cache--it was later revealed
that Swift Runner’s actions were not the case of pure cannibalism as a dark and last
resort to starvation--but rather of a man afflicted by Wendigo Psychosis.
And here was the inspiration for the first--and very important fictional interpretation of
the Wendigo Myth--with a short story written by Algernon Blackwood.
A tale, written in the year 1910--simply titled, The Wendigo--the first mainstream horror depiction
of its kind.
In the story, Blackwood tells the tale of two Scotsmen on a moose-hunting trip in the
wilderness of Rat Portage, in Northwest Ontario.
They are joined on their trip by two guides--a man named Hank Davis--and the French Canuck,
Joseph Defago--alongside their Native Cook, Punk.
Although this tale is a very tame brush with the Wendigo Myth of legend compared to most
modern incarnations--it instead employed the first depiction of the Wendigo not just as
a grotesque entity--but as a doppelganger, which could take on the guise of a human being.
Perhaps the most important convention of this story though--is with the wisdom of the Native
Character--Punk, who recognises all of the signs of the Wendigo, and immediately gets
the hell out of camp.
Whatever it’s importance to the mainstream horror depiction of the Wendigo--Algernon
Blackwood’s story planted the seed of an idea in many other horror writers of the time.
It would influence authors such as Howard Phillips Lovecraft and Grace Isabel Colbron--and
most importantly, August Derleth--who would use the concept of the Wendigo in his story,
The Thing That Walked on the Wind--and later, with his Cthulhu Mythos entity--Ithaqua--which
some of you may be familiar with.
Hint: it’s a giant wendigo-looking ice revenant that roams the Arctic Waste.
Sound familiar?
Yeah.
It would also go on to inspire an early short story of Thomas Pynchon’s, titled Mortality
and Mercy in Vienna, first published in 1959.
Here, it focused on a character developing Wendigo Psychosis and his development into
a psychotic serial killer.
That, in itself--would later inspire several movies--such as 1999’s Ravenous--as well
as several T.V series--such as Charmed, and more recently, Hannibal.
Perhaps the most iconic of the modern Wendigo entities though--is with Stephen King’s
version of the entity.
As we briefly explained in our opening clip, it would inspire a key character in King’s
1983 novel Pet Sematary--where the personification of evil in an Ancient Burial ground of the
Mi'kmaq people--was an ugly, grinning creature with yellow-grey eyes--its ears replaced by
rams horns--and it’s tongue pointed, decaying, and yellow.
Although not as profound as it is now--at the time--King’s interpretation of the Wendigo,
which in turn was an interpretation of the 19th century colonial legends coming from
North America--set the template for the Wendigo’s later portrayal in popular horror culture--where,
for the most part, it completely replaced the Native American lore that had long formed
the importance of the Wendigo.
In 2012 though, Chippewa author Louise Erdrich had a thing or two to say about that, with
her novel The Round House--setting the precedent for a new re-interpretation of the Wendigo
Myth.
And here is where our path splits--because the Wendigo, in many ways, explains the transformation
of one land to the other.
For thousands of years--the Wendigo served as a cultural barometer for the Algonquian
People--an ever adapting tale that formed the importance of cooperation--of restraint--of
sustainability--and the dangers that came with forsaking those virtues.
It painted the monster that we all ran the risk of becoming if we indulged too much in
the act of greed.
You see, as colonial North America expanded into these ancient territories, and these
settlers shifted away from the many European Folktales that had formed the basis of their
society--new ones were forged--fragments of a culture that had long existed before them
as they clambered to produce an identity.
Whilst this identity has been interpreted in many ways--perhaps in most cases to their
detriment--the essence behind the myth of the Wendigo has always remained the same.
Be it man--or monster--we all choose which side we fall on.
Well, there we have it horror fans--our dive into the rich mythos of the Wendigo Myth--and
believe me, there is far, far more to this incredibly important cultural concept than
just what I’ve attempted to explain--so, if it’s piqued your interest in any way--make
sure to enjoy the legend for yourself.
And there we have it--our fourth episode of the Lore Explored!
And you know what, I’m absolutely loving this series so far--but why don’t you let
us know what you’re thinking down in the comment section below, and let us know if
you have any suggestions for future videos.
On that note, unfortunately, that’s all we’ve got time for in todays video--cheers
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As per usual, I’ve been your horror host Jack Finch--you’ve been watching Top 5 Scary
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