Wild Men of Italy

Dear readers, we are heading to the beautiful country of Italy, because the time has finally come to take a look at the local wild man, the uomo selvatico- uomo selvaggio. True to our approach, we will first gather elements of the immense folklore devoted to him, then contemporary testimonies.

Several characteristics distinguish the Italian wild man, first of all the dizzying number of stories, folk motifs, classical and popular references, painted and sculpted representations. What emerges from them is much more than stories of monsters, the rather moving feeling of being faced with a “wild humanity”, aptly nicknamed Homus Selvaticus . And there is his role as a teacher, because he is credited with transmitting agro-pastoral techniques essential to the survival of mountain populations.

 

a transalpine wodewose

The Italian Wild Man is an archetype of the European medieval wild man, described in Richard Bernheimer’s seminal work Wild Men in the Middle Ages (1953). We have already discussed this omnipresent figure in literature, art, and craftsmanship in this interview with a prominent historian. To summarize, the European wild man, in his golden age around the 15th century, represents a race of primitive subhumans covered in hair and shaggy hair, of immense strength, and living in forests. The males were generally depicted brandishing a branch, or even an entire tree, as a club, and sometimes crowned and girded with leaves. We are indeed talking here about mythical creatures, considered entirely imaginary, because their actual existence is not considered by historians.

 

 

As a preamble, we must introduce our sources, first of all the main expert on the Italian wild man. Massimo Centini is an anthropologist, specialist in popular traditions and themes related to spirituality at the Center for the Study of Popular Traditions of the Piedmontese Association of Turin. He is the author of numerous works , including several devoted to the Italian wild man. (And source articles here , here , here , and here .)

Another author of reference, the Fortean writer expert in fantastic creatures of Italian folklore, Umberto Cordier, through one of his books, published in 1986: Guide to dragons and monsters in Italy . Umberto Cordier hypothesized that all these stories could be based on a real being: “The mass of legends is so remarkable that it makes one think of the real existence of some wild hominid in remote times: the intense urbanization of Europe, earlier than in other parts of the world, must have gradually reduced the living space of these beings until causing their extinction.”

Of course, academic researchers favor another hypothesis to explain this “mass of legends”: imitation. For Rossana Sacchi of the University of Milan: “one can wonder if these are stories that were actually widespread in the region or if it is only a generic revival of Alpine folklore borrowed from other regions.”

 

 

The territory of the wild man is above all the north of Italy, the Alpine arc, but also the Apennines, the mountain range which crosses the entire peninsula from bottom to top, as far as Sicily.

 

The wild man is very present throughout Trentino Alto Adige. In the Alpine arc, he takes different names: Om Pelos in Trentino, Omo Salvadego in Valtellina, Ommo Sarvadzo in Valle d’Aosta, Om Salvadegh in Val Puster, Urciat in the Biella region…

 

For example, the Duomo, Milan’s cathedral, has several wild men sculpted on its facade. ( source )

 

 

A wise man

The wild man was considered a true “cultural hero,” as someone capable of bringing inventions to the Alpine populations, paradoxically coming to “civilize” them, he who lives in the woods. A symbol of nature, but also a bearer of culture, the Italian wild man is twofold.

He is a master of the art of cheesemaking and teaches men how to make butter and cheese. His teaching ends before a final secret of the trade is revealed, usually that of extracting wax from whey.

The people of Belvedere were rather pranksters, it is said that one day they invited the Wild Man to put his tongue into the crack of a large trunk, then causing the trunk to fall on the tongue and imprisoning the Wild Man, who in exchange for his release would teach the people of Belvedere how to make cheese from sheep’s milk, how to chop wood with stone axes and then with metal axes.

 

 

 

The Wild Man’s Lair is a cave (sinkhole) in the Apuan Alps, just above Vidiciatico. Legend has it that a wild man lived there and taught the locals how to make butter, cheese, and ricotta. The cave later served as a refuge for shepherds and travelers, who left inscriptions and dates on the walls from the 17th century onward. ( location )

 

The answer given by the wild man of the Fersina Valley is no different: “If you had asked me something else, I would have told you more.”

 

Aosta Valley

In Valle d’Aosta, the man Sarvadzo , after having taught how to produce the different types of cheese, wanted to explain how to make whey useful by using a flower, the nigritella. To the men this operation seemed absurd and, showing little gratitude and little refinement, they mocked the wild man who became angry, left and never revealed the secret he was about to reveal.

In the Biella region, what drove the wild man away, and with him his precious teachings, was a trick played on him by some young people who made the stone on which he usually sat boil or, according to another version, placed a glowing key on it.

It could have been worse for him. In Vinca (Massa), it is said that after learning how to make ricotta and butter, the wild man was even killed.

The wild man is also considered skilled at herding cattle.
Valsugana “owns a large herd of goats with abundant wool.” In some stories, he also teaches other useful knowledge, such as how to care for cattle, recognize medicinal herbs, and work iron.

 

 

 

These are typical activities of Man at the beginning of his history, when from nomadic hunter he became a sedentary breeder and it is thought that men needed to create a mythical being to “officialize” various discoveries in the cultural field.

 

 

When it was windy, the man of Sarvadzo , from the Aosta Valley, “hid and no one knew where he had gone to hide.” Even in the Piedmontese valleys where Massimo Centini collected the testimonies of local inhabitants, the wild man fears the wind and it is the same in Tuscany.

In Coreglia (Lucca) they say that the wild man laughs when the weather is bad because he knows that the weather will clear up later and vice versa he cries when the weather is good because the bad weather will come later.

The poet Matteo Maria Boiardo (1440-1494), in  Orlando innamorato   , writes about the wild man:

And they say he has such a nature,
That he always cries, when the sky is clear,
Because he is afraid of bad weather at that time,
And that the heat of the sun will diminish in him;
But when the rain and the wind strike the sky,
then be happy, because good weather awaits you.

 

 

Wild but not too wild

In most legends, the wild man is a peaceful being. In fact, he is sometimes the one who is mocked or made silly jokes about, but he simply reacts by walking away and never appearing again. He is usually a very serious character, but in some stories, he can be more cheerful.

The gigiat of Val Masino, for example, plays the flute, laughs, shouts and dances.
The Massaruò of Cadore likes to play the subiotto (wind instrument) to make young people dance and “is in a cheerful mood, sociable, plays naughty tricks on people”.

But even when he sets his mind to causing trouble, the savage appears rather pleasant, and perhaps even a little stupid, rather than evil.

According to an old man from Val Grana (Cuneo), the sarvanot , even if he “wasn’t mean, played tricks, especially on women.” For example, he threw clothes hanging on the clothesline or replaced salt with sugar. Or he would sneak into stables to play with the cows’ chains.

Even the salvanelli , or sanguinelli , of the high plateau of the Sette Comuni loved to play with the chains of the cows and took pleasure in hiding objects and frightening lovers. Another of their pranks was to lead travelers astray (but they could then change their minds and go and retrieve them)

 

 

 

 

Not so nice

The wild man is sometimes represented as a ferocious, even cannibalistic being.

“Evil and harmful” was the sarvanòt of Val Maira (Piedmont). In Melle, a peasant, tired of the pranks of a sarvanòt , walled him up alive in the cave where he was hiding.

The Salvanchi are bestial and gigantic, dedicated to theft and kidnapping of young girls, always determined to satisfy their animal appetite, so irrepressible that they do not even disdain human flesh.

 

 

 

Aurelio Garobbio focused on them and gives a very vivid description:

Gigantic men, the Salvanchi , lived on the impermeable limestone walls of Sassalbo, and dwelt in the numerous caves of this bare mountain, east of Poschiavo.

 

 

Hairy as goats and fiercer than wolves, they possessed the strength of an ox. If they had to climb the steep slopes of the mountain, they could effortlessly uproot a pine tree with all its roots and use it as a staff. But woe betide the men if they touched the plants: they screamed; and they could be heard from the other side of the valley. Because of their violence and cruelty, no one dared to confront them and one had to resign oneself to the continuous robberies, considering oneself lucky not to encounter them, since they attacked men.

 

 

The Salvanchi wandered through the resounding pine and larch forest at the foot of the Sassalbo, but they met almost everywhere in the surrounding area: below the Pizzo di Sena and the Fil della Veglia, in the Val di Campo and in the Val del Teo, in the Val Traversina and beyond the ridge, in the grassy valleys of Sprella and Guinzana that descend towards the Grosina. What they found became their possessions: a goat, a sheep, a sack of flour, a pot, a wheel of cheese; they seized everything with arrogance or cunning and took it into the sordid caves.

Some harsh winters, when deep snow covered the mountain and there was nothing left to plunder in the mountain pastures, the Salvanchi would launch swift night attacks on an isolated farm.

Although gigantic, they were very agile, and were sometimes seen on the precipices of Sassalbo jumping from one rock to another like ibexes. They walked barefoot and dressed in the coarse fleeces of marmots, or chamois, captured while chasing them or setting snares. They loved wild honey and fresh cream, but they also enjoyed human flesh. If a child disappeared from the cradle, there was no doubt. Where the earth was softer, in fact, the frightening imprint of an enormous foot was eventually discovered.
But in a story from Montìcolo (Trentino-Alto Adige), a wild man devours a peasant’s wife and nails part of her body to the door.

Even the bilmon of Val Fersina (Trentino) “accompanied by a procession of damned spirits nailed parts of the bodies of his victims to the doors of houses”.

 

A kidnapper

The wild man is usually depicted as a solitary being, but in some stories he tries, in a way that might not be very appreciated by men, to obtain companionship.

 

Illumination 1340 Toulouse France

It is said that in a cave near Andorno Micca, near Biella, lived an om salvei who kept himself isolated, but had a good and generous soul: wise and peaceful, he lived with his flock of sheep and goats. Here too, the savage was an expert in the art of cheese making and had willingly agreed to teach the women how to make butter and cheese. However, having fallen in love with a young girl, he had kidnapped her and this, obviously, had not pleased the locals who had gone to retrieve her by force. After this confrontation, the om salvei was never seen again.

In Regnano (Massa) there is talk of kidnappings of women by savage men.

 

A bishop of Trent is even said to have permanently removed from Faver, in the Val Cembra, a wild man who was harassing the inhabitants, especially the women.

 

A wild people

So far, the stories describe a singular “wild man”, sometimes, however, there are several.

A legend from the Poschiavo Valley tells of the arrival of a “band of savages” from Mount Sassalbo.

The Salvanchi traveled alone: solitude had become their mental habit, and perhaps even the exchange of a simple word was tiresome, but if they went down where civilized men were numerous, they united in groups.

According to an elderly man from Val Grande di Lanzo (Piedmont), “once there were many of them […]; they lived alone, but there were many of them.” Centini reports that almost all the people he interviewed in this valley and in Val Grona (in the province of Cuneo) agree that descendants of the Selvaggio still exist and identify them with those people, often deformed or deprived of language, who live in houses far from the inhabited center. Another elder interviewed reported that “the old people, like my uncle, said that he was black and that the savage existed,” and yet another said that he knew “that a savage still exists, he lives in the mountains with the goats.”

 

Wild women also appear in some stories.

From time to time, wild women descended from Giuribrutto and the Lastei of Predazzo. One of them asked a spinner to dance with her. Somewhat perplexed, the girl accepted the invitation, and they danced for three days straight, at the end of which the wild woman gave her three birch leaves. Although she felt like laughing, the girl restrained herself and accepted the gift. The leaves turned to gold.

According to legend, families of wild men lived in the Onies mountains (Trentino-Alto Adige) and their wives “raised their children with great love, as all mothers in the world do.”

It is said that the witch of Valsugana used to kidnap children and raise them with great love.

 

 

There is a very sad legend that a woman, envious of the charm a savage had over a young man, plotted against her. The savage was stoned to death.

At the Falzarego Pass, near Cortina d’Ampezzo, the story is told of a woodcutter who fell in love with a beautiful young girl who “was a Salvaria , that is, a woman of the woods, forced to live in caves, among the rocks, because men had driven them from their lands.” The savage woman agreed to marry him on the condition that the woodcutter never use her name. One day, however, the man learned his wife’s name from another savage and, impatient, called out to her. He would never see the woman in the woods again.

 

Sacco’s Wild Man

In Sacco, in Val Gerola (in the province of Sondrio), inside a building, in 1464, Battistino and Simone painted a wild man, covered in thick brown fur that left only his face, hands, and feet uncovered. In his hand, he holds a large, gnarled staff, and an inscription near his head reads:

” And I am by nature a wild man, whoever offends me pays the price. “

 

It has been speculated that Battistino and Simone came from the Baschenis family of painters from Averara. The Camera picta of Sacco, until recently used as a barn (and a popular rumor has it that it was once the refectory of a monastery), now houses the Museum of Homo Salvadego .

 

 

The Wild Man of Oneta

 

 

On a wall of the House of Harlequin in Oneta (in the municipality of San Giovanni Bianco, in the Brembana Valley) a wild man was painted with the usual staff and the inscription “He who is not a priest does not enter my house; if he comes to me with an armchair, I will give him with my staff.” The body up to the waist and part of the face have been lost. The original fresco, possibly dating from the mid-1400s, was removed in 1939-1940 and replaced by a copy.

 

We now leave the marked and reassuring path of folklore and history to take a much more winding and perilous path, that of contemporary observations linked to the Wild Man, more or less credible.

 

Testimonies in the 20th century

 

Surprisingly, two testimonies concern the south of the country, and the surroundings of Naples, and the same year, 1960.

-Italy, Pozzuoli area, Naples, early 1960s. This story was told to my father when he returned to Italy in the early 1960s to see one of the girl’s uncles, Immaculata. A recently married couple living on their family farm experienced an encounter with a Bigfoot they could not have imagined in their wildest dreams.

Immaculata pushed her vegetable cart through the streets of Fogratta, selling fava beans. It was on a summer evening like this two years ago that she first accompanied Gianni up the slopes of his family farm to watch them fire cannons into the misty night to make it rain. Her fiancé’s family believed it worked; who could prove it otherwise? She and Gianni watched as the cannons were filled with black nitrate powder and fired into the mist, which immediately produced a considerable downpour. It was magical, and they were in love. They married that June and welcomed a son who was born during harvest time. For generations, her family’s business provided daily hauls to the marshalling yard 5 miles north of the small port of Pozzuoli. The farm stretched from the crater’s lava pit all the way south up the slopes of the volcano, past the railway tunnel and then lower down to steeper cliffs overlooking the sea. After several close calls on both sides of the tracks one evening, while returning from hunting, Gianni noticed something large lying next to the tracks. A carcass of some kind had been hit by the train. Stepping forward with a shotgun, he cautiously approached. It was an arm, a hairy arm that must have been severed by the side rail of the monorail. Gianni was disgusted by the sight of the large, stinking arm, but still, he was intrigued and decided to take it home. So he tied it to his stick alongside the avian kills he had shot that afternoon. As he climbed the slope, his attention was diverted by the distant cries of an animal, guttural cries unlike anything he had ever heard before. After cleaning and plucking the birds, he left the severed arm lying in the farmyard. The next morning, after milking and feeding the cattle, Immaculata found a blood trail leading away from the barn. Gianni told her the story of the severed limb on the tracks. As they walked, they followed the large footprints that led to the caves. At the entrance to the main cave of Sorge, they found a giant animal writhing in pain, clutching the wound of the severed limb and desperately trying to breathe. Immaculata gasped and put her hand over her mouth as Jianni’s eyes opened wide. The beast turned its sad gaze toward the frightened couple. One could feel sorry for them, but it was a wild animal. What was it? An anthropoid ape? A bear? Some kind of person? It was a female and covered in reddish-brown fur. She turned her head toward them to show them her large, dark eyes. The creature moaned and trembled; its size was massive, and it must have been over 3 feet [91,4cm] wide across the shoulders. Its head was enormous and seemed to have no neck as the head was just one with its powerful trapezius muscles and shoulders. Its teeth were large, flat, and yellow. Its breath smelled bad, and its feet, well, they were wide, thick, and several times the size of Jianni’s shoes. The couple concluded that they couldn’t leave it like this, and Immaculata overcame her fright and tried to tend to the massive wound. Gianni covered it with burlap and filled a nearby trough with water. They felt no hostility from the creature. Immaculata wept and sat for hours beside the pitiful beast, praying. When dusk came, they lit a coal fire and some clay urns, and covered it with more burlap. They concluded that after all those hours spent with her, “No harm had come to us, so let’s do all we can.” They stoked the fire and tried to get her to drink, and after a while, Immaculata and Gianni huddled near the cave entrance and finally drifted off to sleep. Around dawn, the couple awoke only to find the animal had disappeared. After the morning’s chores, they discussed their night with their grandson. Together, they decided to look for their new friend. It was easy to follow her large, deep footprints in the soft earth. Below the olive grove, the trail began to disappear. As the afternoon turned to dusk, Immaculata made no vegetable deliveries that day. The family resumed their farming life. Crops of rounder broad beans increased thanks to the rains brought on by the cannon fire, which extended the vegetable delivery routes. The lemon trees’ yield exceeded expectations. Although Gianni’s family searched for them, the footprints never reappeared. Aside from the disappearance of a beehive and an olive press, the only other unusual event occurred on September 19.They lit a coal fire and clay urns and covered her with more burlap. They concluded that after all those hours spent with her, “No harm had come to us, so let’s do all we can.” They stoked the fire and tried to get her to drink, and after a while Immaculata and Gianni huddled near the cave entrance and finally drifted off to sleep. Around dawn, the couple awoke only to find that the animal had disappeared. After the morning’s chores, they discussed their night with their grandson. Together, they decided to look for their new friend. It was easy to follow her large, deep footprints in the soft earth. Below the olive grove, the trail began to disappear. As the afternoon turned to dusk, Immaculata made no vegetable deliveries that day. The family resumed their farming life. The rounder bean crops increased due to the rains caused by the cannon fire, which extended the vegetable delivery routes. The lemon tree yield exceeded expectations. Although Gianni’s family always looked for them, the footprints never reappeared. With the exception of the disappearance of a beehive and an olive press, the only other unusual event occurred on September 19.They lit a coal fire and clay urns and covered her with more burlap. They concluded that after all those hours spent with her, “No harm had come to us, so let’s do all we can.” They stoked the fire and tried to get her to drink, and after a while Immaculata and Gianni huddled near the cave entrance and finally drifted off to sleep. Around dawn, the couple awoke only to find that the animal had disappeared. After the morning’s chores, they discussed their night with their grandson. Together, they decided to look for their new friend. It was easy to follow her large, deep footprints in the soft earth. Below the olive grove, the trail began to disappear. As the afternoon turned to dusk, Immaculata made no vegetable deliveries that day. The family resumed their farming life. The rounder bean crops increased due to the rains caused by the cannon fire, which extended the vegetable delivery routes. The lemon tree yield exceeded expectations. Although Gianni’s family always looked for them, the footprints never reappeared. With the exception of the disappearance of a beehive and an olive press, the only other unusual event occurred on September 19.
That evening, as they watched the Il Rapido train whizz past with its shrill whistle, in the distance a strange, elongated animal sound could be faintly heard, echoing from the river delta.
With the Sirocco expected in an unexpected blue the following month, Gianni was bird hunting in the grove when he suddenly noticed three large figures moving among the vines hanging between the trees. Although the figures were quite close, the sounds of their footsteps were practically silent. Watching cautiously through the scope of his rifle, he was able to distinguish their old friend and two similar creatures. It was more hunched over and moving among the foliage, and then he realized indeed that the beast had only one arm. Although he held his breath in excitement, it must have made a noise. The creature stopped momentarily and stared in his direction for a long moment, and then there was nothing else; “Nice to meet your family, safe travels,” Gianni whispered, “I have to go home to see mine.”

 

 

 

The second Neapolitan testimony, still in 1960. Originally published on the now-defunct Blue Ridge Bigfoot website.

In June 1960, I was 25 years old and employed by an international copper company that had a project in a town in the Campania province of Italy, not far from Naples. It was my first time outside the United States, and I really wanted to experience living abroad. My parents were first-generation Italian immigrants, and I spoke Italian fluently. Now I could use the house effectively and learn more about the area and its history while I was there. It was a sight to behold; this tiny fishing port was all but destroyed by the Allied bombing raids of World War II. A few years later, however, it became home to a steel mill, a chemical plant, and an oil refinery. These new neighbors employed thousands of people, but their emissions and soot were at dangerous levels. Engineers were redesigning and installing precipitation units in the stacks in an attempt to control the choking pollution blanketing the region. Our company had done this successfully in my hometown of Pittsburgh. A typical workday consisted of hoisting construction cranes up the stacks and inspecting and implementing construction changes into master plans. I must admit, it was sometimes difficult to concentrate when you had incredible panoramic views from the crane in every direction, from the sea to the jagged, pointed peaks jutting out from the mainland with slopes plunging into the sea. Beaches with steaming geysers, hillsides with olive and lemon groves. Offshore riptides and whirlpools. On the horizon, a volcano that produced nighttime noises and lighting effects. None of this prepared me for the hidden, mysterious danger lurking just across the road. Adjacent to our industrial complex was an impenetrable swamp filled with shifting sands, molten sulfur pits emitting hot fumaroles that dotted the bog. Little was known about this semi-volcanic basin. There were rumors of deadly sulfur gas emissions and mysterious sounds coming from strange creatures. Even more ominous were the fears of still-active land mines that the Nazis had used during their 1943 retreat and possible unexploded American bombs as well. Taking shortcuts through the swamp was strongly discouraged, and the townspeople warned us, “Watch every step you take,” they said; they were superstitious. Many maps made by ancient Roman legionaries bear the inscription “Campi Flegrei.”The warriors who invaded the scorching land avoided it, although it seemed that natives had farmed, fished, lived, and died there normally, despite legends of giant, hairy humanoid creatures. “Manar” was the name known among the residents. They mentioned terrifying encounters with Manar. Despite my efforts, I could find no English translation. The factory’s seaside properties were separated from the mainland basin by a heavily traveled two-lane road. Chain-link fences surrounded the factory and were patrolled by stocky guard dogs, black mastiffs known to the area since Roman times. Every time we climbed to the top of the construction crane, I always found myself looking up to see or observe the hinterland and one particular day when I was looking across the hills and small farms, we saw a figure on two legs and quite large at the waist, even from the high top of the crane and it appeared to be dragging something, an ox perhaps. It was a dark color from head to toe. What I perceived was this, some kind of large ape. I didn’t believe Italy had monkeys and this thing again was enormous. It gave the impression of taking long strides and it appeared to be dragging the ox without much difficulty. My partner and I watched it until it went under the cover of brush. “What was that?” “I don’t know, a bear maybe,” said my partner. “Bears don’t drag things with their paws while walking on two legs. They can’t, you need a dumb thumb.” I did a fair bit of hunting with my dad after I got home. “It wasn’t a bear. OK, maybe you’re right. Let’s get back to work.” We let it go, but it was always in the back of my mind. We rode our bikes to the factory every day, took the bus sometimes, and even walked when we had enough time. When we rode our bikes, we took the road that was close to the swamp and parked our bikes off the road in the bushes. One day after work, I went to retrieve my bike to find it was crushed, twisted, and bent beyond repair. It reminded me of a pretzel. If someone had borrowed my bike and returned it in that condition, not likely, and I noticed my back tire was in the fork of a tree at least 12 feet up. The bike was ruined. I didn’t even bother to pick it up. I just stood there with a dumb, “What?” look on my face. I felt like I should be going to a hotel tonight, I thought. I smelled a strange odor, but as I walked along the road, my gait was slow, tired from the day’s work,I could hear something; I felt I was being followed. There were heavy footsteps from within the tree line, but it would stop when a car passed and start up again. I heard a deep rumbling. I picked up my pace all of a sudden, not that tired, just shaken. I ran the last mile and made it to the hotel and into the lobby. I was panting and a little flushed, but I managed to catch my breath and greeted some of my new local friends and told them about my experience. I listened to their stories. In the darkness, we were all sitting in an open gallery at the entrance to the hotel in the lobby when one of them called out to me and whispered, “Listen, listen, you hear, listen.” I didn’t hear anything at first, but after a moment I began to hear a whining noise. The sound was large, powerful, and came from the mountain range not far from us. The cries sometimes came from desperate, stressed animals caught and killed by the Manar. One longtime resident recalled hearing the angry rage of an unusual animal during air raids during the war. Fishermen returning from the river complained of large, humanoid apes stalking away, dragging nets full of the night’s catch behind them. A friend of mine told me about a drunk in a wine shop who spotted a man crossing the square at midnight during one of his late, staggering walks home. It seems the Manar are attracted by the aroma of loaves of bread baked by the bakers at night. He would then slip away with an armful of bread, loaves of bread. This happened on several occasions, from what they told me. A dockworkers’ strike forced the factories to close for a month. The silence was different and welcome. The city smoke that had pervaded for miles was gone, the road traffic was absent, and even the ships in the harbor were elsewhere. With no crane operators, the staff were left to work on plans. Around closing time one night, the guard dogs were howling and bounding along the fences. A colleague remarked to me that he heard the mastiffs growling several times, but he had never heard them bark before. They seemed to be fuming or fuming at something around the south fence. We watched for a while but could see nothing. When the dogs finally calmed down, the peace of evening returned. It was strange, though, to hear the natural sounds; I could even smell the gentle sea breeze. After a long wait at the bus stop, I finally got on, greeted the driver, and took a seat. I was the only passenger.At dusk, a cold mist began to roll in over the small fishing town, and I must have dozed off for a second because I was suddenly awakened, nearly falling out of my seat when the bus veered off the road. Half asleep, I thought we must have had an accident, but then the driver made a quick maneuver to steer the bus back onto the road and stop. “I almost hit someone. All of a sudden it was in my headlights,” he said. We got out and looked around, nothing. The town was completely silent, the fog was getting thicker, and a strong animal smell was wafting in. Nothing seemed unusual. We continued our journey toward town. I thought I saw something running alongside the bus. “I think someone needs to get in,” I shouted to the driver. He sped off; it was strange. “He’s not a customer,” he replied. “He’s a Manar,” he shouted. Then I heard loud thumps, a window shattered, and what sounded like metal being ripped from the side of the bus. He was ripping off the rearview mirror and trying to force his way in through the right side of the door. The bus driver yelled and put the car into gear. After a hurried drive back to the village, we stopped to examine the damage: Two windows shattered, a mirror missing, a door partially ripped off, and multiple large dents all over the right side of the bus. Was this really a monster that did this? I never saw that bus driver again. My staff would soon move on to another project. I stayed for another month and then returned to Pittsburgh and got married a year later. I still live in Pennsylvania. The memories of that hectic summer have seemed to fade with each passing year. Someone said they built a naval base on the reclaimed land nearby. One more thing as perhaps the most remarkable coincidence. I remember it well. I went to see an outdoor movie with my wife and kids in September 1972. It was a two-parter and I almost had a heart attack when I heard that Bigfoot howl. It took me back to that time and I finally had a name for the beast I had encountered all those years ago.The fog was getting thicker and a strong animal smell was spreading. Nothing seemed unusual. We continued our journey towards the town. I thought I saw something running alongside the bus. “I think someone needs to get on,” I shouted to the driver. He accelerated; it was strange. “It’s not a customer,” he replied. “It’s a Manar,” he shouted. Then I heard loud thuds, a window shattered, and I heard what sounded like metal being ripped from the side of the bus. He was ripping off the rearview mirror and trying to force his way in through the right side of the door. The bus driver screamed and put the car into gear. After a hasty return to the village, we stopped to examine the damage: Two windows shattered, a rearview mirror missing, a door partially torn off, and multiple large dents all over the right side of the bus. Was it really a monster that did this? I never saw that bus driver again. My staff would soon move on to another project. I stayed for another month and then returned to Pittsburgh and got married a year later. I still live in Pennsylvania. The memories of that hectic summer seemed to fade with each passing year. Someone stated that they built a naval base on the reclaimed land nearby. One more thing as perhaps the most remarkable coincidence. I remember it well. I went to see an outdoor movie with my wife and kids in September 1972. It was a two-parter and I almost had a heart attack when I heard that Bigfoot howl. It took me back to that time and I finally had a name for the beast I had encountered all those years ago.The fog was getting thicker and a strong animal smell was spreading. Nothing seemed unusual. We continued our journey towards the town. I thought I saw something running alongside the bus. “I think someone needs to get on,” I shouted to the driver. He accelerated; it was strange. “It’s not a customer,” he replied. “It’s a Manar,” he shouted. Then I heard loud thuds, a window shattered, and I heard what sounded like metal being ripped from the side of the bus. He was ripping off the rearview mirror and trying to force his way in through the right side of the door. The bus driver screamed and put the car into gear. After a hasty return to the village, we stopped to examine the damage: Two windows shattered, a rearview mirror missing, a door partially torn off, and multiple large dents all over the right side of the bus. Was it really a monster that did this? I never saw that bus driver again. My staff would soon move on to another project. I stayed for another month and then returned to Pittsburgh and got married a year later. I still live in Pennsylvania. The memories of that hectic summer seemed to fade with each passing year. Someone stated that they built a naval base on the reclaimed land nearby. One more thing as perhaps the most remarkable coincidence. I remember it well. I went to see an outdoor movie with my wife and kids in September 1972. It was a two-parter and I almost had a heart attack when I heard that Bigfoot howl. It took me back to that time and I finally had a name for the beast I had encountered all those years ago.The memories of that hectic summer seemed to fade with each passing year. Someone reported that they built a naval base on the reclaimed land nearby. One more thing as perhaps the most remarkable coincidence. I remember it well. I went to see an outdoor movie with my wife and kids in September 1972. It was a two-parter, and I nearly had a heart attack when I heard that Bigfoot howl. It took me back to that time, and I finally had a name for the beast I had encountered all those years ago.The memories of that hectic summer seemed to fade with each passing year. Someone reported that they built a naval base on the reclaimed land nearby. One more thing as perhaps the most remarkable coincidence. I remember it well. I went to see an outdoor movie with my wife and kids in September 1972. It was a two-parter, and I nearly had a heart attack when I heard that Bigfoot howl. It took me back to that time, and I finally had a name for the beast I had encountered all those years ago.

Yeti, the giant of the 20th century, 1977

 

Even further south, this very suspicious story, which has caused a lot of ink to flow. It has little connection with the uomo salvetico of the Alpine arc, but here it is all the same:

On October 11, 1970, a group of six hikers who had gone to the crater of Etna noticed and photographed seven footprints similar in shape to those of a man, but with the mark of only three toes, one and a half meters long and placed four meters apart from each other. The footprints sank six inches into the ground. After twenty days, the six, accompanied by others, returned to the site and took more photographs (  Exists…  1970).
There was talk at the time of a kind of Etna Yeti, according to an article published in “Il giornale dei mysteri”, the discoverers of the footprints reportedly informed a professor and some university assistants of the discovery, but curiously they “did not show the slightest interest”.

 

Observations in the 20th century

In the winter of 1974, in Ceppaloni, an elderly woman reported seeing “a being more animal than human” and in San Leucio, a boy spoke of “an animal with the appearance of a monkey”.

In the valley of the Sele River (Salerno), between the end of 1980 and the beginning of 1981, “a male hominid over two meters tall, with broad shoulders, a body covered with very long hair and a strange head with incandescent eyes” was observed on several occasions.

In Rosta (Susa Valley, province of Turin), in early 1982, “large footprints of ‘something’ were found that moved in an upright position and angrily bit and scratched the bark of trees, but it did not appear to be a bear. A villager was awakened in the middle of the night by the barking of dogs and saw a strange anthropomorphic figure disappear into the undergrowth.”

In Ripole (a hamlet of Montoggio, Genoa), in January 1983, a truck driver had a close encounter (four meters away) with a monster “large and covered in thick dark fur, with a disproportionately large head, in an upright position.” The creature reportedly set a hunting dog on him. A few months earlier (August 1982), in a hamlet of Genoa, a farmer had found “in his devastated vineyard very strange traces of claws and bites attributable to an animal unusual both in shape and size”).

In October 1997, the Imperia weekly newspaper “La Riviera” wrote that a police officer and a university student had reported seeing a few months earlier (the dates attributed to the alleged sightings are May 7 and July 27) a “monstrous creature with a human face but the body of a gorilla” in the middle of Grimaldi.
After the article was published, a Swiss music producer also reported seeing in the woods of Ventimiglia in December 1996 “a gigantic creature, more than two meters tall, moving among the bushes. It looked like a cross between a primitive man and a gorilla.” It had “long hair, the face of an old man, and a body covered in hair.”

 

Quora Forum User: Paolo Rosa (source)

I saw something strange, I don’t want to say that the Italian Bigfoot exists, but it’s something that left me perplexed and without precise answers. It was in August 1990, I was almost 30 years old. For decades my family had a house in Chiesa in Valmalenco, to be precise in the locality of Dosselli, halfway to the town of Primolo (Lombardy). The exact point on Google Maps is: 46.264725,9.840745 I was crossing the road to go from the house to my car when on the scree above the road, then with much less vegetation than in the photos on Google Maps, on the highest part of the scree I saw a kind of gorilla running on two legs along the scree from right to left. I was stuck and scared and immediately got into a car. I tried to give myself a rational explanation thinking of a bear, and it is the most likely explanation even if at that time there were no bears, now it is easier after their reintroduction in Trentino and, having dealt with bears after the sad story of Daniza, and having seen some, their movement is totally different from that of the object of my observation. Above this scree there is an abandoned quarry that may have served as a shelter. Then I went with friends, alone I would not have had the courage , to the quarry and on the scree but we found nothing.

 

And in the 21st century?

 

 

And there’s this rather blurry video in every sense of the word, posted in 2015, supposedly captured in Sicily.

The most interesting thing seems to be the only commentary that accompanies the video:

Translation: My grandfather was a police officer in Sicily, he told my mother a story about a big, hairy ape-man who lived in a railway tunnel. Sometimes this ape-man would throw stones at people, yell at them, and that’s when he was called. He said the creature was huge, covered in red hair. He insisted that if you left him alone, he wasn’t dangerous.

 

END.