Birdy Magazine, October 2020 issue

Nestled in the Coloradan mountains, just a stone’s throw southwest of Telluride, is Lizard Head mountain, home to the only native cetacean of Colorado, the Slide-Rock Bolter. The deadly land-locked leviathan bolts down the mountainside and takes what is harming its’ home without a second thought. This Deadly mountain whale has been devouring tourists, lumberjacks, and miners alike while sweeping through the trees and all other natural life in its’ path for over 100 years, that we know of.

Waiting dormant atop Lizard Head, near the San Juan Mountains, the whale watches the land with his careful beady eyes for anyone to wander through the forested area. His split, clawed tail hangs him facing down Lizard Head. By simply lifting his malign fluke, the Bolter can slide down. If at once the monster notices something encroaching on his territory he bolts down the mountainside and spares no lives of the passers-by. It is simply foolish to meander even remotely near the Lizard Head area, according to the tale. In no way is it in one’s best interest to meet the gargantuan creature with its jaw full of razor sharp teeth and staunch dedication to keeping humans clear of the area.

The origin of the story is rumored to come from lumberjacks in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Gathering at the end of their work days they’d share horror stories late into the night, one person trying to out-scare the next. Each of their stories held a grain truth to what was happening in their daily lives From the mining in the mountainous area the environment deteriorated and many men lost their lives through their work. In conjunction with the horrors of mining, lumberjacks played their own part in the story of destruction of the region by deforesting the expansive forest.

Though the stories of the Bolter differ one to the next about its’ origin and meaning, the monster’s mission remains the same — to make humans extinct from the forest. More than 100 years ago everyone was aware of the chilling tale in the Colorado mountain regions because of the booming mining and milling that had to be done in the forested areas. The creature, said to be the reason for many of the mining or lumberjack work-related deaths, had to be dealt with so that life and work could go on, uninterrupted without any fear.

In the early 20th century it is said that a park ranger stuffed a dummy human with explosives to lure the creature from the mountaintop. With the Bolter to think the explosive mannequin was a real human, the ranger thought he was easily tricking the Rocky Mountain Whale to meet his death and nevermore harm anyone passing through or working in the forest. Instead, the flourishing mining and mill town, Rico, home to about 5000 at the time, was nearly demolished and the Bolter lived on.

Further spreading the talk of the creature was William T. Cox, writer, conservationist, and Minnesota’s first State Forester. In 1910, the year before becoming the State Forester, he published the story of the Slide-Rock Bolter to a popular Minnesota newspaper, birthing more fear in people of the leviathan.

Though the Slide-Rock Bolter was at the forefront of most people’s minds when it came to viscous forest creatures, Cox actually authored an entire book, Fearsome Creatures of the Lumberwoods, filled with similar deadly beings that lurk in forests, ready to snatch the lives of whoever is near and creates a ruckus. The fantastical encyclopedic book outlines all of the creatures in such great detail that no one after reading the story would ever want to step foot near a wooded area.

The entire book can still be found today and is well worth reading if you want to be scared to your wit’s end. Within it, Cox writes, “In the mountains of Colorado, where in summer the woods are becoming infested with tourists, much uneasiness has been caused by the presence of the slide-rock bolter. This frightful animal lives only in the steepest mountain country where the slopes are greater than 45 degrees. It has an immense head, with small eyes, and a mouth somewhat on the order of a sculpin, running back beyond its ears. The tail consists of a divided flipper, with enormous grab-hooks, which it fastens over the crest of the mountain or ridge, often remaining there motionless for days at a time, watching the gulch for tourists or any other hapless creature that may enter it. At the right moment, after sighting a tourist, it will lift its tail, thus loosening its hold on the mountain, and with its small eyes riveted on the poor unfortunate, and drooling thin skid grease from the corners of its mouth, which greatly accelerates its speed, the bolter comes down like a toboggan, scooping in its victim as it goes, its own impetus carrying it up the next slope, where it again slaps its tail over the ridge and waits. Whole parties of tourists are reported to have been gulped at one scoop by taking parties far back into the hills. The animal is a menace not only to tourists but to the woods as well. Many a draw through spruce-covered slopes has been laid low, the trees being knocked out by the roots or mowed off as by a scythe where the bolter has crashed down through from the peaks above.”

Cox had a history of being critical in his work as the State Forester. He always harshly commented on the amount of deforestation in forests and did not hold his tongue when it came to his assessments of forest grounds. In addition to routine classifications of soil in various areas, giving recommendations to councils and pricing potential lumber, he urged the state to reduce their presence in timber trade. He did not agree with what was being done to the natural land.

Eventually, in 1924, the board had enough of his advanced environmental ‘foolishness’ and Cox was let go from his position. But, he didn’t finish his forest escapades and rather charged deeper into conservation. He spent a great deal of time in Brazil studying the Amazon Rainforest after vacating his role and over time he helped the country strategize a more environmentally sound plan to participate in the timber trading economy. Upon returning to the United States Cox became a founding member of the Department of Conservation, known today as the Division of Forestry.

Meanwhile, the town near the home of the Slide-Rock Bolter, Rico, became a part of the Pioneer Mining District of Colorado to mine silver, copper, and gold just outside of the town, in addition to already being a large lumber hub of the Western United States. At the tail end of the 19th century, in 1891, the Rio Grande Southern Railroad arrived, stretching the bandwidth of the town’s riches even farther, across Colorado to Durango, motivating more mining and chopping, thus consequently more harm to the environment. Today, less than 300 people live in Rico, presumedly not because of the Bolter himself being angry over the activity, but because of the lack of land made available to mine. What was a territory of the Ute tribe was being illegally mined by money-hungry Coloradans. The abrupt drop in mining and milling consequently has the same timeline of the end of most of the Slide-Rock Bolter sightings.

Though the Slide-Rock Bolter may just be a creation of lumberjacks and to ward off tourists, a man with a mission to stop deforestation, or a group of early environmentalists scared of what mining was doing to people in the area, the tale lives to warn everyone of their individual actions when in the natural environment. With or without veracity, the story of the Coloradan creature gobbling up the human lives of those disrupting the environment is enough of a reminder to be cognizant of what is at stake. Cox may have created Macrostoma saxiperrumptus, the scientific yet fantastical name of the Slide-Rock Bolter, in rage against mass deforestation but through all the terror he caused, it is he who we have to thank, in part, for advocating for the trees long before it was mainstream.