That story is cool, but I'm more intrigued by a lot of the other stuff you mentioned. Witchcraft? Child murders and albinos? Car bombings? What the heck do you do for a living? Sounds like you need a podcast or something.
I work as a federal agent with the Diplomatic Security Service which is part of the State Department so we spend a lot of our careers overseas doing criminal and terrorism investigations, fugitive recoveries, dignitary protection, and programs to keep the diplomats safe. As part of liaison working with the host country law enforcement and intel services, you end up seeing a lot of weird crap.
Dude that’s wild…judging by your story you got a lot of cool stories under your belt
Sounds just right....
Whoops wrong thread response. My bad
campusarch.msu.edu
My post above got me thinking about a couple of creepy stories related to the same property that I haven't thought about in some time. One is mine, and one is from a cousin. I have heard talk of other stories over the years, but I've yet to hear them in full detail.
I'll set the stage with a little bit of history about the property. Please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors.
The property sits on a large bend in the Grand River. The Grand starts in Hillsdale County in southern Michigan, not far from the Ohio border. It flows some 250 miles northwest through the state capitol in Lansing and continues on a twisting northwest path eventually emptying into Lake Michigan at the city of Grand Haven. Before white settlers and their dams, there used to be a mile long stretch of rapids that gave the city of Grand Rapids its name.
The natives called it Owashtanong, which in Ottawa translates to "Far-Flowing Water." As you can imagine, the river was a major travel route for the native Americans and early settlers.
The area is also along the route of Grand River Road, a road that was originally a native trail that followed various rivers, including the Red Cedar and Grand, from Detroit to Portland and eventually to Grand Rapids.
Following Grand River Avenue Through History
For East Lansing residents, Grand River Avenue is the place to turn to for almost anything, from bookstores to restaurants to college bars. Its sidewalks are almost always bustling with students wa…U.S. Route 16 in Michigan - Wikipedia
en.wikipedia.org
Back to the property-it is just shy of 200 acres and sits almost directly south of the city of Portland, MI, on the aforementioned bend of the Grand River. Portland is a city first settled in 1833. The first settlers built a trading post on Bogue Flats in the city and interacted extensively with the many natives in the area.
Among those natives was Chief Okemos, who has a city named after him on the Red Cedar River, a tributary of the Grand.
https://project.geo.msu.edu/geogmich/okemosgrave.html.
The Red Cedar is famous in these parts for being the river that runs through the campus of Michigan State University (Go Green!).
The property had at least one native village on it, with another larger one across the river called Shimnicon. It is here in Shimnicon that Chief Okemos is buried.
The property first came into my wife's family in the early 1900s. The house that her cousin now lives in on the north end of the property was originally a stagecoach stop. Stagecoaches forded the Grand River along the old path of the Grand River Road/Trail south of Portland. Many years ago Grand Rive Avenue was rerouted north to avoid this part of the river and the slight valley it sits in.
Over the years dams were built up and down river, so the water level is higher than it was in the time of the stagecoach. If you look closely in the dry months of summer when the river is low, you can still see where the banks and river bottom were reinforced with field stones to facilitate the passage of the stagecoaches. If you walk up the hill to the northwest, you can clearly see a well worn wagon path leading to the house.
Over the years family members have collected a large number of arrow and spear points along the river as well as in the yard surrounding the house. My wife's grandpa was fond of saying "the Indians were in the garden again" when he, his children, or grandchildren would find stone points while tilling and planting the vegetable patch.
I first met my wife some 22 years ago. Shortly thereafter I was warmly welcomed into the annual family deer camp - they must have seen the hook in my mouth that escaped me at the time because they were very guarded about access to the property and no one outside of the family hunted it with rare exception.
One of the first things her uncle proudly showed me was the family collection of stone points. I recall counting at least 75 distinct pieces, if not more. I am by no means an expert on the subject, but from the limited research I've done the collection represented a broad range of time from the Neolithic to the Woodland Indian period. I was of course curious why he would show me these points prior to my first opening day of deer season with my soon to be in-laws. The question was answered when he told me "I'm showing you this so you understand there are things you won't understand at times when you're out there."
I had no idea what this meant until one turkey season some 4 or 5 years later. Mind you, I had archery and gun hunted the property many times in those first few years with good success. I had never been truly scared when on stand before daylight or waiting for dark to climb down so I wouldn't scare the deer lingering in the fields. Sure, I was creeped out a few times due to my own imagination, but nothing like what I experienced that April dusk.
I had been out for a couple hours before dark, trying to pattern the birds and see where they were roosting. My plan was to find that out and come out the next morning ready to bust a nice gobbler right after fly down. Of course the birds ended up roosting on the far southwest corner of the property, about as far you could get from where my truck was parked on the north end near the old stagecoach ford area, just south of the house.
The sun had just set as I neared the ford area. I was maybe 200 yards from the ford when I saw what I thought was a light on a boat close to the opposite river bank. As I got closer, I heard splashing and saw the light bob back and forth. No big deal until I heard the distinct sound of horse leather and metal bits and pieces clinking and squeaking, along with a low voice alternately calling what sounded like "gee" and "haw." Before you ask how do I know that what that means and sounds like, I grew up on a farm and my father had a team of ponies that he used in pulling competitions. I also had two uncles that had Belgian draft horses they showed at county fairs and pulled wagons in what seemed like every small town's festival parade for 40 miles around. I can't tell you how many times growing up I saw pony pulling competitions or tossed candy out of a wagon in a parade.
Back to the lights and sounds - I didn't really process it at first... I kept thinking those are weird sounds to be coming from someone night fishing.
My truck was parked about 125 yards more or less due west from the ford on the two track that led up the hill and out to the road. As I got closer the light and sounds seemed as if they were crossing the river, heading toward the back area of the house/old stagecoach stop. The closer I got, the dimmer the light got and the quieter the splashing, voices, and creaking and clinking became. I don't know when the light went out or the sounds died away because at this point I had stopped walking and was running at a pace that would shame Forrest Gump. I made it to my truck in record time, started it up , and flew up the two track and out to the road quivering like a little girl.
Cousin's story:
There is a good sized field (give or take 60 acres) along the river just south of the old ford. This field is longer than wide running north to south. More than a few stone points have been found in this field over the years. The entire area to this day is full of deer and turkey, and was probably even more so before white men. Heck, I'm sure there were elk, deer, wolves, and bear in abundance in those times when it was all forest. It was for sure fertile hunting ground, and people have been there for thousands of years... to this point I have been remiss in pointing out the area across the river east of the property is a state game area.
My wife's cousin is a solid guy. Let's call him J. for these purposes. J. is a hard working family man, serious when he needs to be, and funny as hell in deer camp. I've never known him to exaggerate or stretch the truth.
He relates a story when he was in high school and he and another cousin were tasked with discing the big field along the river. They started on it one weeknight after dinner. It had been pretty dry and things were dusty. The way they went about it was he was on one tractor, slightly behind and to the side of the other cousin on his tractor going north and south. They did it this way so as to cover more ground and get it done quickly.
J. says they were about 1/3 of the way through the field when the sun began to set. It was then he started to see in the tractor's headlights what he thought were the outlines of figures swirling in the dust kicked up by the discs and the tractors.
His first thought was his mind was just playing trick on him, so he ignored it until the next pass when he got about mid-field and distinctly saw what appeared to be people with long hair dressed in what he described as native clothing. When he got to the end of the field, the other cousin had stopped his tractor and was climbing off.
J. stopped his tractor, got off, and went to see what the other cousin wanted. He said they both stood looking at each for a moment when they both said at the same time - "did you see anything weird in the dust," at which point they made a joint decision to haul ass out of the field and come back and finish the job during daylight on the weekend.
I'll see what other stories I can tease out at the next family gathering. With any luck I'll have something new to post.
You will hear lots of those types of stories where there were native villages long ago. Some people will see things-people but most will not and I have no idea why.My post above got me thinking about a couple of creepy stories related to the same property that I haven't thought about in some time. One is mine, and one is from a cousin. I have heard talk of other stories over the years, but I've yet to hear them in full detail.
I'll set the stage with a little bit of history about the property. Please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors.
The property sits on a large bend in the Grand River. The Grand starts in Hillsdale County in southern Michigan, not far from the Ohio border. It flows some 250 miles northwest through the state capitol in Lansing and continues on a twisting northwest path eventually emptying into Lake Michigan at the city of Grand Haven. Before white settlers and their dams, there used to be a mile long stretch of rapids that gave the city of Grand Rapids its name.
The natives called it Owashtanong, which in Ottawa translates to "Far-Flowing Water." As you can imagine, the river was a major travel route for the native Americans and early settlers.
The area is also along the route of Grand River Road, a road that was originally a native trail that followed various rivers, including the Red Cedar and Grand, from Detroit to Portland and eventually to Grand Rapids.
Following Grand River Avenue Through History
For East Lansing residents, Grand River Avenue is the place to turn to for almost anything, from bookstores to restaurants to college bars. Its sidewalks are almost always bustling with students wa…U.S. Route 16 in Michigan - Wikipedia
Back to the property-it is just shy of 200 acres and sits almost directly south of the city of Portland, MI, on the aforementioned bend of the Grand River. Portland is a city first settled in 1833. The first settlers built a trading post on Bogue Flats in the city and interacted extensively with the many natives in the area.
Among those natives was Chief Okemos, who has a city named after him on the Red Cedar River, a tributary of the Grand.
https://project.geo.msu.edu/geogmich/okemosgrave.html.
The Red Cedar is famous in these parts for being the river that runs through the campus of Michigan State University (Go Green!).
The property had at least one native village on it, with another larger one across the river called Shimnicon. It is here in Shimnicon that Chief Okemos is buried.
The property first came into my wife's family in the early 1900s. The house that her cousin now lives in on the north end of the property was originally a stagecoach stop. Stagecoaches forded the Grand River along the old path of the Grand River Road/Trail south of Portland. Many years ago Grand Rive Avenue was rerouted north to avoid this part of the river and the slight valley it sits in.
Over the years dams were built up and down river, so the water level is higher than it was in the time of the stagecoach. If you look closely in the dry months of summer when the river is low, you can still see where the banks and river bottom were reinforced with field stones to facilitate the passage of the stagecoaches. If you walk up the hill to the northwest, you can clearly see a well worn wagon path leading to the house.
Over the years family members have collected a large number of arrow and spear points along the river as well as in the yard surrounding the house. My wife's grandpa was fond of saying "the Indians were in the garden again" when he, his children, or grandchildren would find stone points while tilling and planting the vegetable patch.
I first met my wife some 22 years ago. Shortly thereafter I was warmly welcomed into the annual family deer camp - they must have seen the hook in my mouth that escaped me at the time because they were very guarded about access to the property and no one outside of the family hunted it with rare exception.
One of the first things her uncle proudly showed me was the family collection of stone points. I recall counting at least 75 distinct pieces, if not more. I am by no means an expert on the subject, but from the limited research I've done the collection represented a broad range of time from the Neolithic to the Woodland Indian period. I was of course curious why he would show me these points prior to my first opening day of deer season with my soon to be in-laws. The question was answered when he told me "I'm showing you this so you understand there are things you won't understand at times when you're out there."
I had no idea what this meant until one turkey season some 4 or 5 years later. Mind you, I had archery and gun hunted the property many times in those first few years with good success. I had never been truly scared when on stand before daylight or waiting for dark to climb down so I wouldn't scare the deer lingering in the fields. Sure, I was creeped out a few times due to my own imagination, but nothing like what I experienced that April dusk.
I had been out for a couple hours before dark, trying to pattern the birds and see where they were roosting. My plan was to find that out and come out the next morning ready to bust a nice gobbler right after fly down. Of course the birds ended up roosting on the far southwest corner of the property, about as far you could get from where my truck was parked on the north end near the old stagecoach ford area, just south of the house.
The sun had just set as I neared the ford area. I was maybe 200 yards from the ford when I saw what I thought was a light on a boat close to the opposite river bank. As I got closer, I heard splashing and saw the light bob back and forth. No big deal until I heard the distinct sound of horse leather and metal bits and pieces clinking and squeaking, along with a low voice alternately calling what sounded like "gee" and "haw." Before you ask how do I know that what that means and sounds like, I grew up on a farm and my father had a team of ponies that he used in pulling competitions. I also had two uncles that had Belgian draft horses they showed at county fairs and pulled wagons in what seemed like every small town's festival parade for 40 miles around. I can't tell you how many times growing up I saw pony pulling competitions or tossed candy out of a wagon in a parade.
Back to the lights and sounds - I didn't really process it at first... I kept thinking those are weird sounds to be coming from someone night fishing.
My truck was parked about 125 yards more or less due west from the ford on the two track that led up the hill and out to the road. As I got closer the light and sounds seemed as if they were crossing the river, heading toward the back area of the house/old stagecoach stop. The closer I got, the dimmer the light got and the quieter the splashing, voices, and creaking and clinking became. I don't know when the light went out or the sounds died away because at this point I had stopped walking and was running at a pace that would shame Forrest Gump. I made it to my truck in record time, started it up , and flew up the two track and out to the road quivering like a little girl.
Cousin's story:
There is a good sized field (give or take 60 acres) along the river just south of the old ford. This field is longer than wide running north to south. More than a few stone points have been found in this field over the years. The entire area to this day is full of deer and turkey, and was probably even more so before white men. Heck, I'm sure there were elk, deer, wolves, and bear in abundance in those times when it was all forest. It was for sure fertile hunting ground, and people have been there for thousands of years... to this point I have been remiss in pointing out the area across the river east of the property is a state game area.
My wife's cousin is a solid guy. Let's call him J. for these purposes. J. is a hard working family man, serious when he needs to be, and funny as hell in deer camp. I've never known him to exaggerate or stretch the truth.
He relates a story when he was in high school and he and another cousin were tasked with discing the big field along the river. They started on it one weeknight after dinner. It had been pretty dry and things were dusty. The way they went about it was he was on one tractor, slightly behind and to the side of the other cousin on his tractor going north and south. They did it this way so as to cover more ground and get it done quickly.
J. says they were about 1/3 of the way through the field when the sun began to set. It was then he started to see in the tractor's headlights what he thought were the outlines of figures swirling in the dust kicked up by the discs and the tractors.
His first thought was his mind was just playing trick on him, so he ignored it until the next pass when he got about mid-field and distinctly saw what appeared to be people with long hair dressed in what he described as native clothing. When he got to the end of the field, the other cousin had stopped his tractor and was climbing off.
J. stopped his tractor, got off, and went to see what the other cousin wanted. He said they both stood looking at each for a moment when they both said at the same time - "did you see anything weird in the dust," at which point they made a joint decision to haul ass out of the field and come back and finish the job during daylight on the weekend.
I'll see what other stories I can tease out at the next family gathering. With any luck I'll have something new to post.
