Something fearsome stalks the woods near Glastonbury, Connecticut—at least, that’s what the legends say. Witnesses describe a monstrous creature nearly four feet tall, with the body of a feline and the head of a canine, its mouth bristling with long, vicious teeth. Though its eyes burn a terrible red in the night, it is said to be completely blind, relying on sonic vibrations and an acute sense of smell to hunt its prey. Its horrific screeching has been likened to the cries of a hyena, but perhaps its most terrifying attribute is its mesmerizing gaze. Those foolish enough to meet its haunted eyes are doomed to lose their memory and become hopelessly lost in the wilderness—if they aren’t torn apart by the bloodthirsty beast first.
What is this mysterious creature?
It’s known as the Glawakus, a name coined during a wave of unexplained attacks in the winter of 1939. Historians debate its exact origin, though most agree the name derives from “Gla” for Glastonbury, “wack” for wacky, and “us” as a proper Latin ending. However it came about, the name spread like wildfire, cementing the legend.
The Glawakus began its campaign of carnage in January 1939, terrorizing the small farms surrounding Glastonbury. Livestock became its primary victims, but many family pets also fell prey to the beast. New England farmers were no strangers to predators, yet something about these attacks defied explanation. The mutilated remains left in its wake suggested a large cat—possibly a mountain lion—but soon, eyewitness accounts began to surface.
Between January and March of 1939, more than 200 Glawakus sightings were reported. While some descriptions varied, most remained consistent: a lion-sized feline with a fearsome canine head. The sheer volume and credibility of these accounts attracted media attention, with newspapers like the Hartford Courant covering the unfolding mystery and local radio stations broadcasting updates.
As the story captured the region’s imagination, businesses seized the opportunity. Merchants offered Glawakus-themed services, including one clothing company that promised to craft a jacket or scarf from a Glawakus pelt—provided a customer could bring one in. A Hartford beauty salon advertised, “Don’t look like a Glawakus!” The Glastonbury Rifle Club built a life-sized mock-up of the creature for target practice, while a local butcher disturbingly offered to prepare Glawakus steaks if a carcass were ever found.
At the height of the frenzy, a full-fledged safari was launched to track the monster. The highly publicized hunt attracted dozens of armed men, accompanied by Ozark-trained bloodhounds. Yet despite their efforts, the Glawakus eluded them.
As winter gave way to spring, the sightings dwindled, and public interest waned. The story faded into local legend, resurfacing periodically—most notably during a wave of new sightings in the 1960s. Yet no definitive evidence of the creature has ever been found.
Skepticism is inevitable, but the fact remains: something was slaughtering the livestock of Glastonbury. Some speculate that a misidentified fisher cat—a tenacious member of the weasel family known for taking down porcupines—could be responsible. However, with an average length of just three feet, a fisher cat seems an unlikely match. Another theory suggests a rogue mountain lion, but this explanation is met with as much disbelief as the Glawakus itself, as mountain lions were supposedly eradicated from the region over a century ago. Nonetheless, sightings of these big cats persist in Connecticut, despite wildlife officials’ denials.
So, was the Glawakus real? A flesh-and-blood predator? A trick of mass hysteria? Or something far stranger? Until someone provides proof—or a Glawakus steak for the grill—the mystery remains unsolved.
Jason Roberts is a Seattle-based author noted for his acclaimed western horror series The Dead Wind Trilogy as well as other works of cosmic horror infused with historical fiction. His web-based series, Dark Distractions examines paranormal mysteries, unexplained phenomena, and all things strange.
