The Unexplained: Who was the Blue Man of the mountains?
October 24, 2020
A huge man was high on the mountain, almost bare except for a breechcloth made of animal skins and homemade moccasins.
When I moved back to the rural Ozarks in the early Eighties, I decided to have a small platform built over the roof of the back porch—a crow’s nest to view the beautiful scenery. A crude stairway served to get me there, to drink gallons of coffee and gaze all about.
Early mornings, there is often a thick haze over the land until it burns off at about ten a. m., sun cooperating. On one of the many mornings when I was glugging the black liquid, I found myself muttering, “It’s a two-mountain day.” That stuck in my head.
If you looked off into the ESE distance, you could see two mountains rearing up. Were these the fabled Twin Mountains of Douglas County—a wild county to the east? I reckoned that they were.
When there is a good haze, early, only one mountain is visible through the mist. On really hazy days, you can see nary a one.
Since I was a tot, I have always known Douglas County as Booger County. As I mentioned before, it is wild—and woolly. The area always seemed to have an eerieness about it. There were surely many creatures within that are frightening to children—boogers.
The most frightening inhabitant of Booger County was undoubtedly The Blue Man of the Ozarks. The Blue Man was first observed in 1865 by a rifleman and a tracker, Blue Sol Collins. Collins first came upon his tracks in the snow.
Blue Sol had been tracking a bear and at first he thought he was looking at bear tracks. Closer examination revealed that they weren’t bear tracks at all. They were too large for bear tracks and a different shape altogether.
Collins did not let fear deter him. He tracked the mystery creature up one of the Twin Mountains. He detected some movement from above—then a boulder started rolling toward him. That did not stop him, even when another boulder rolled by.
Then he saw him! A huge man was high on the mountain. He was almost bare except for a breechcloth made of animal skins and some homemade moccasins on his feet. The thongs on the moccasins were what had made the strange marks in the snow alongside the tracks, confusing Collins.
The scary boulder roller had been carrying an eight-foot-long club until he set it down to roll the boulders. Even armed with a rifle and knives, Collins was too spooked to stick around much longer, so he fled.
Blue Sol Collins did some careful checking around. Other people had indeed noticed some strange activity in the very sparsely settled county. Livestock had been disappearing at regular intervals for a spell. Often bones and hide were left behind. What was stealing and eating their animals? A few finally admitted that they had caught glimpses of the huge man but were wary to mention it. Efforts to capture the menace were not successful. The Blue Man seemed to have been scared off, and moved on, anyway.
He returned in 1874 and was seen by at least twenty people. He was tracked by many, but again could not be captured. By this time he had become known as The Blue Man of Spring Creek. He was not actually blue in color. How did he come by that name? Most think he was called that for the first man who had laid eyes on him, Blue Sol Collins.
No one knows his origins. It is conjectured that he is a French descendant from the peoples who once settled in Missouri. Others guessing further suspect he is half French and half Indian.
Unless he is immortal, he would be long gone by now, but that does not mean that livestock does not still mysteriously disappear. Does the Blue Man have descendants up in the unexplored wilderness of the Twin Mountains?
A descendant of Blue Sol Collins relayed that Solomon Collins was his great, great, grandpa who lived in Dora, Missouri. He was known as a great hunter, and he loved
his seven hunting dogs which he called the Sons of Thunder.
My heart was broken when I had to have the platform removed to repair the roof.. I really miss it. There is, however, the remaining staircase, with a 4′ x 4′ landing and it has a safety railing around it. It is large enough to have a picnic on or hold the tripod for a telescope.
Today it is a Two-Mountain Day.
Sara Marie Hogg is the author of Curious Indeed, a collection of true stories about the mysterious and unexplained. Please click HERE to find the book on Amazon.