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Lair of the Beasts: The Island of Blood

Hunting the Chupacabras

By Nick Redfern February 06, 2010

Nick Redfern, 2009, with the skull of an alleged Chupacabras.
© Nick Redfern

Back in the latter part of 2005, I traveled to the island of Puerto Rico for a week with good friend and Canadian film-maker, Paul Kimball, of Halifax, Nova Scotia’s Red Star Films. Along with Paul’s crew – which was comprised of his brother Jim, John Rosborough and Findlay Muir – we were there to chase down that most legendary of all modern-day blood-sucking monsters, the deadly Chupacabras: a strange creature with a hairless, monkey-like body, vicious fangs and claws, and – according to some eye-witnesses, at least – a pair of glowing red eyes, a line of sharp spikes down its spine, and bat-like wings.

It was a strange and surreal week to say the absolute very least. Along with a local, paranormal expert, named Orlando Pla, and fueled on the finest Margaritas and not much else, we roamed and rampaged around the island chasing down just about every conceivable lead we could find, in an effort to try and determine what the beast is, where it came from, and the way in which it has become ingrained in the popular culture, mythology and legend of the people of Puerto Rico.

And, along the way, we uncovered some fascinating data – and some amusing material, too. For example, just after I was introduced to Orlando, he asked me: “Do you know what you should do if you see a Chupacabras?” I replied that: no, I did not know. To which, Orlando added: “Well, legend says that if you see the spikes go up on its back, you should sing it a song, a lullaby, which will calm it. And then you should run as fast as you can.” Paul said he would forget the lullaby and just run.

Then it was time for us to hit the road.

One of those many and varied islanders we interviewed was a man named Antonio, a pig-farmer, who told us how, on a morning in 2000, he had woken to find one of his pigs dead in its pen, with the only calling-card of the attack being several unusual puncture wounds on the neck. Not only that: a number of his rabbits had been killed in an identical fashion.

Of course, killing a few rabbits would not be too difficult a task; however, bringing down a fully-grown pig suggested a predator of some considerable size and strength was at work. Whatever the cunning animal was that unleashed the bloody attack, it remained elusive.

Then there was Pucho, who, in February 2005, had seen a large, winged monster loom out of the dense trees near the small village in which he lived, and which flew – hang-glider-style – across the dusk skies and towards a nearby farm, where, several days later, several animals were discovered viciously mutilated and killed.

Needless to say, everyone seemed to have a theory as to what the Chupacabras was: some suspected that it was a literal, real-life version of the hostile extra-terrestrial that was featured in the Predator movies. In other words, the beast was roaming the island, on a marauding killing spree, for sport and fun.

Others suggested that it might be the result of some dark and dubious “genetic experiment” that had been undertaken in a “secret laboratory” somewhere on the island, and that the beast had escaped into the wild and was now creating untold havoc and mayhem in the process.

Some eye-witnesses to the creature and its handiwork offered the notion that the Chupacabras was a paranormal entity, possibly one conjured up from some dark and nightmarish dimension – Hell, some said – by occultists attached to several of the witch-covens that certainly can be found on the island.

And, in a more down-to-earth fashion, there was a belief in some quarters that the Chupacabras was a giant-bat, possibly even prehistoric in nature.

And even at an official and professional level, the theories abounded. We spoke with a former employee of Puerto Rico’s Civil Defense unit, who was certain that the Chupacabras was no normal animal, but was indeed something truly monstrous. On the other hand, a veterinarian assured us that most of the attacks could be attributed to nothing stranger than packs of wild dogs.

In other words, everyone had a theory, but there were very few definitive answers.

But, whatever the actual nature of the beast, we left the island with a new appreciation for the phenomenon, and a realization that something very strange was afoot deep in Puerto Rico’s El Yunque rain-forest, and in the island’s little towns and villages.

And, now you, too, can learn all about what went on during the course of that monstrously-surreal week in Puerto Rico in late 2005. Paul Kimball has just released a three-part film that captures the more memorable moments from our expedition, and which he has given the highly-appropriate title of The Island of Blood.

Those who want to view the documentary for themselves can do so by going to Paul’s blog, which is http://redstarfilms.blogspot.com

Nick Redfern is the author of many books on the paranormal, including the forthcoming Monsters of Texas: Strange Creatures of the Lone Star State, co-written with fellow-monster-hunter, Ken Gerhard.