A Place of Werewolves and Screaming Banchees
By Jay Stoeckl, MAT, OFS, May 1, 2026
Don't think this is fiction! The tale I am about to tell is absolutely true and it happened to me.
Traveling puppies has given me the opportunity to see every state in the lower 48 and so many interesting places. So many different experiences.
I delivered a puppy to a couple living on the sacred ground where Pocahontas had lived.
I visited colonial towns Jamestown and Williamsburg, Virginia and three Civil War battlefields (Fredricksburg, Vicksburg and Gettysburg).
I stayed in an air B&B (built in 1680) in Plymouth, Massachusetts.
But the most memorable of all of these occurred at “THE SECOND MOST HAUNTED CAMPGROUND” in the country.
During one of the first Puppy Express Trips four or five years ago, I had just delivered the last puppy to a congressman in South Carolina before visiting my cousin in Cummings, Georgia. The only task ahead of me was to drive all the way back home to the Northwest.
Back then, Jennifer and I carried no specific plans as to where to overnight. We just sort of winged it. Rest areas and Love’s Travel Centers later became the mainstays. But the first few trips required experimentation.
My route took me through the state of Tennessee and I called Jennifer as I so often did to seek out a camping spot for that evening. Jenn got online. And what she told me would have made a number of you pass on the idea straight away.
“OOOOH!” Jennifer exclaimed with audible energy. “Listen to this! There is a State Park listed just south of Nashville and has a reputation for being the “second most haunted campground in the country!”
Intrigued and not generally afraid of ghosts, I asked her to read further. What sort of paranormal history does this campground have? What’s the name of this state park?They mu
“Montgomery Bell State Park, Tennessee.”
She went on reading out loud about a circus train in the early 1900s derailing off the tracks losing several circus animals including…
…wait for it…
TWO LIVING WEREWOLVES.
They must have been part of their exhibits.
Legend has it, the animals that survived the crash were soon recovered, but not the werewolves. An old cemetery lies at the edge of the park with the werewolf name listed.
And there were warnings not to wander into the forests for historically, many who ventured in never came out.
And if you google Montgomery Bell State Park or list it on YouTube, you’ll hear tales of people who believe they encountered the werewolves to this day in some form… as I did.
AND Jennifer read on to tell about a screaming banchee that exists near the adjacent town of Burns. Werewolves to the north and banchees to the south!
Sounds like a Girl Scout campfire story.
For me, it wasn’t.
I arrived at the park as the sun was setting. There was no tent to pitch as I slept on a cot in the back of our red Pacifica. So, I found a spot and decided to explore the park a bit.
From the campground was a long asphalt pathway that curved around a large meadow. Cross a small stone bridge over a brook and you’ll reach an old church. And farther down in that same opening is an old replica of a historic cabin.
I returned and prepared dinner. I set up my bed and sleeping bag. I was all prepared for the night and had actually turned in. But I did not sleep.
I had this crazy idea. It was already late, after 11 p.m. Not believing much in paranormal out in the open, I wanted to see if this haunted campground thing bore any merit.
So, I went for a late night walk… alone.
I reached the edge of the campground where the single lane asphalt road lead to that same stone bridge over the same brook, the church, and the cabin.
I did not dare go quite that far.
I decided the bridge over the brook as far enough.
I never made it to the bridge.
I recall that memory so clearly, because it was the year in the deep south when the cicadas hatched and were out making their mating calls in the dead of night. It happens something like every seven years or so and this happened to be that year.
If you’ve never experienced it, it is deafening. A constant chattering. No peace or silence for the entire night.
Along the path, I crossed the open field. It was mowed and about the size of a standard football field. The path was straight until the far end of the meadow where it curved toward the right. Another fifty yards was the old bridge.
Around the perimeter of both the campground and this open meadow were woodlands. Thick, almost impenetrable forests, all deciduous. The cicadas were making their music throughout these wooded areas.
About three quarters of the way to the far end of the meadow, I stopped. And what I heard next sent shivers up and down my spine.
First I heard something far in the distance. It was barely audible because of the cicadas. It was howling. Wolf-type howling. I was sure of it. But I had no doubt this was not my imagination.
I decided just then that reaching the bridge over the brook was a terrible idea. Time to head back. And then…
Something else came to my ears. This time it was not so distant.
Out of the forest straight ahead of me was a voice. It sounded like an old woman with a raspy voice. It made no comprehensible wording, just made three syllables:
“Oh-WEE-yah!”
I decided just then it was time to get back to the campground… QUICK!
But I did not want to run. I did not want whatever was out there to make chase. It was a good seventy yards back to the boundary of the campground and another seventy to my campsite!
I dared not turn, but started walking backwards. Whatever that sound, whether some form of night bird or other creature, I did not dare turn.
“Oh-WEE-yah!”
came the sound again, louder than before. Whatever it was had closed half the distance of itself and me, but was still somewhere in that noisy forest.
I moved farther away without turning, but this time quickened my pace.
I wish there was more to tell than that.
No, I did not pee my pants. I was not quite THAT scared! But I felt the kind of fear one seldom feels and lives to tell the tale. Instead, I made it back to the campground, the campsite, and my car without further incident.
It was a relief.
Needless to say, I got in, rolled up all the windows, and locked the doors.
Eastern Daylight Time, I was able to call Jennifer without waking her up. It was midnight to me, but to her, only 9 p.m.
She loved hearing about my scary adventure in the second most haunted campground in the country.
If only I had my Yeti with me. My Angle Wolf would have kept all evil creatures at bay. Our dogs have a way of doing that.
For your own protective angel wolf, see our available dogs at: https://direwolfdogs.com/dogs-for-sale/
Oh and there are scarier things than werewolves and screaming banchees in my Jacob Lake Trilogy. I won’t give away whether they exist in real life or not. But it is a fun tale of a battle between good and evil. You’ll find it here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=gabriel+paulson+jacob+lake+trilogy&crid=E99R0573RBBX&sprefix=gabriel+paulson+jacob+lake+trilogy%2Caps%2C138&ref=nb_sb_noss
Jennifer Stoeckl is the co-founder of the Dire Wolf Project, founder of the DireWolf Guardians American Dirus Dog Training Program, and owner/operator of DireWolf Dogs of Vallecito. She lives in the beautiful inland northwest among the Ponderosa pine forests with her pack of American Dirus dogs.