Entries Tagged 'Weird Stuff' ↓

Councilman Samuel Bell, a horse importer of Wooster, O., has a Minorca pullet that takes as much delight in catching rats and mice as a rat dog. The hen was raised with a litter of fox terriers, and from being associated constantly with the dogs has acquired their hatred for rodents. She will tackle the largest kind, and while she has never killed a large one, will keep them at bay until the dogs come to her relief. She has killed many half-grown ones. She seems to know that the big rats are too much for her. It is in dispatching mice that she is at home, and two to four picks from her bill always lay the mouse out. A funny part of the hen’s accomplishment is that she will stand for hours on watch for mice, and when one appears, pounce on it with the fury of a cat.

[tags]Ann Arbor Register, August, 1895[/tags]

The Bucyrus, O., Journal says: Our readers are aware that a large portion of the cranberry marshes were burned over last fall, and that portions remained burning for many weeks if not months. The owners have been digging and ditching, draining and fencing, at all seasonable opportunities, during the winter. Last week, while some workmen were digging upon a knoll that had been burned over, for the foundation of a barn, they found the earth still warm as they penetrated deeper, and a hollow sound induced the belief of a cavity, and cause them to prosecute their researches. Suddenly one of the spades struck through, and out squirmed a large rattle snake. This made them cautious, and further search revealed a hole four feet by three, and three deep, in which were 17 huge rattlesnakes, and divers smaller fry, besides one or two large frogs. Inspection revealed the further fact that there must have been other large frogs, and smaller snakes that had served as food, for the survivors through the long winter. The snakes had evidently been used to this retreat for winter quarters. The fire had driven them and other reptiles, in there, early in the season, and while the warmth had prevented them from their usual torpor, the small fry had kept them all alive and kicking.

[tags]Peninsular Courier and Family Visitant, April, 1868[/tags]

A correspondent of a Coldwater paper gives the following particulars concerning the strange disappearance of Ottawa Lake, in Bedford township, Monroe county.

For some days past Ottawa Lake has presented a very exciting scene. The occasion was this: Those living near the lake observed for some days previous that the ice on the lake was falling. Soon they discovered that the fish were crowding to the holes in the ice where they watered their cattle. They increased in numbers, large and small, the former having their mouths wide open, and so exhausted that the people caught them with their hands.

As many teams daily visited the lake, hauling stones from the shores for building purposes, the news soon spread to a distance all around. The work of quarrying and hauling stones was soon abandoned, and in a short time scores of teams and hundreds of men might be scene on an about the lake. The men with hand-spikes, crow-bars and axes, were busily engaged in cutting and raising huge pieces of ice, and then stooping down and lifting the fish, some of which were dead, some alive, and some frozen fast in the ice, for the water having departed from the lake by some subterranean passage, the vast sheet of ice lay on the bottom.

For three days immense quantities of fish were carried away, principally pickerel and bass, while vast quantities of white fish were left to rot on the ice and in the mud–for mud and ice is all that is left of Ottawa Lake, numerous pieces of ice being left standing on edge, like so many grave stones. The lake, or rather its bed or grave-yard, presents a novel scene. Some say the water will soon return by the same source by which it departed, bringing a fresh supply of fish with it, for Lake Erie is supposed to be its headquarters. It will be well if it does, otherwise sickness may be feared in the burying ground of Ottawa Lake. In the meantime the farmers will greatly feel the loss of the departed waters.

About seven years ago, I am told, this lake departed in the same way, and old men say it departs and returns periodically.

[tags]Peninsular Courier and Family Visitant, March, 1868[/tags]

A case of insanity of a curious sort is just now exciting considerable interest among the medial fraternity of London, says an exchange. A negro was found the other day in a gentleman’s house at Willesden and could give no account of himself because of severe fits of laughter which convulsed his frame. He was taken to the nearest workhouse and ever since has done nothing but laugh.

He has not uttered a word in the interval, and what is his name or where he came from is unknown. He laughs continuously from morning till night and at meal times he swallows his food like lightning in order, apparently, that he may continue his fit of mirth with as little interruption as possible. When he goes to sleep his sides shake with laughter, and in the morning the moment he opens his eyes his capacious mouth opens, too, with a loud guffaw.

At first it was thought he had adopted this means to escape from being tried on the charge of attempted burglary, but the physicians who have examined him unite in pronouncing him insane, and say that his cure is doubtful. The chances are, it seems, that he will literally laugh himself to death.

This form of insanity, though rare, is not unknown to medial science, though the mania is generally of a transitory nature. There are several cases on record of grave personages, who had rarely been seen to smile, suddenly breaking into a habit of uncontrollable and contagious laughter. Dr. Clouston tells of a solid, prudent business man who one day startled his family by a fit of laughter which lasted so long and was so hilarious that every one in the room had to join in.

From time to time after that he would be seized in the church, in the train or in the streets, and whenever he started all who heard him would have to follow. It was the first symptoms of mania. Very soon delusions and the most outrageous conduct supervened and then–the asylum.

[tags]Ann Arbor Register, March, 1896[/tags]

The red men of the west have many curious legends concerning the rivers, lakes and mountains of that region, none more weird than that which is told concerning Rock Lake, Washington. Since time out of memory the Indian tribes of that vicinity have believed the lake to be inhabited by a sea monster, which never grows old, and whose chief diet is Indian flesh. According to the legend, no Indian ever entered its waters and returned therefrom alive, no matter whether the rash act was committed by approaching its margin for a drink, for a plunge and a swim, or for a canoe ride upon its placid bosom. All of the Indians of the northwest know of the terrors of Rock Lake, and each and every one would prefer death than to touch its waters. The last Rock Lake horror, according to the legend, was in 1858, when a whole band of noble red men were sent to the happy hunting grounds by the monster.–St. Louis Republic.

[tags]Ann Arbor Register, September, 1895[/tags]

A French archaeologist, traveling among the Andes in search of knowledge and specimens, had a great desire to explore some of the caves in the sides of the precipices. They were doubtless ancient tombs and would probably yield him a treasure. He selected a favorable spot therefore, rigged a sort of chair or seat between two leather cords, and engaged two Indians to let him down from the brow of the precipice. “A descent of 300 feet made in this way,” he tells us, “is extraordinarily long.” However, he reached the cave in safety, and on forcing a passage into it was rewarded by finding two skulls and a mummy–”thoroughly dry,” he says, “and pretty solid.” He passed a string through the eyeholes of the skulls and attached them to his belt. Then he took the mummy in his arms and signaled to the Indians to draw him up. With his heels he defended himself against the jutting rocks and in a few minutes was almost on a level with the top. The Indians knew nothing about his load. Just then the yellow skull of one of their ancestors appeared before their eyes and the idiots gave a start of surprise. The Frenchman thought they must have let go the cord.

“It was the affair of a second,” he writes. “What passes in the brain of a man at such an instant is indescribable. I did not drop a yard, but I experienced all the horror of a man in rapidly falling through space. My hands let go the mummy, and while covered with a cold sweat, I was helped over the edge of the cliff by the Indians the mummy bounded from rock to rock and landed in bits at the bottom of the chasm.”

He overwhelmed the Indians with invectives, but to no purpose. Such dead men, they assured him, if disturbed in their sepulchers, had the habit of kissing the Indians, who perished infallibly under their deadly breath. One of the two declared that his own father had died in that way. The other assured the Frenchman that at the moment when the head of the mummy showed above the edge of the rocks it opened its mouth. If it had not luckily fallen into the abyss it would have cursed them forever.

[tags]Ann Arbor Register, July, 1895[/tags]

Second Engineer Wilson De Hart, of the fated steamer Longfellow, lives with his wife and children at 126 West Eighth street, and was among the saved, says Louisville Courier-Journal. His wife dreamed Wednesday night that the boat was lost with all on board and it preyed so on her mind all day Thursday that she tried to persuade her husband not to make the trip. After bidding him good-by on the boat she told the chief engineer, Dan Halley, of her dream, and with tears in her eyes, begged that he endeavor to influence her husband to remain at home, as she knew the boat would be lost. On learning of the accident she ran almost all the way to Promley in her endeavor to keep pace with the floating wreck, and was almost wild with grief before the news of her husband’s rescue reached her, and she then refused to be convinced until he was brought to her.

[tags]Ann Arbor Register, April, 1895[/tags]

Over 25 head of cattle were killed by lightning in a most remarkable way in Finnis county, Kan. A herd of 800 were being moved to another pasture and for a part of the distance were driven through a narrow lane hedged in by a wire fence. While in this narrow passage a thunderstorm overtook them and a bolt of lightning descended and struck a fence post, felling the wire for 200 yards. Every head of cattle that was crowded against the wire was killed.

[tags]Ann Arbor Register, August, 1895[/tags]