Is The Skunk Ape Man or Myth? I Went to the Florida Everglades to Find Out.

Deep in the southernmost section of Florida, where land meets water, the Everglades is a real-life Garden of Eden; a place teeming with flora and fauna in a way that feels much bigger than the world -- and certainly the imagination. Crocodiles and alligators bask side-by-side here -- the only place on the planet where these reptiles commingle -- and spoonbills and egrets traipse through freshwater sloughs, sawgrass marshes, hardwood hammocks, pinelands, cypress swamps, coastal prairies, mangrove forests, and marine ecosystems.

The Florida Everglades are vast (1.5 million acres and three counties). Within this national park, there's an eerie, almost uncanny feeling one gets here; despite its size, you certainly don't feel alone.

And you're not alone.

Welcome to Rumor Has It, an editor-led series investigating some of the most compelling lore and legend across the US. Marrying investigative journalism with first-person narrative, Rumor Has It invites readers to dig deeper, ask questions, and be curious. Because when we travel, we have the opportunity to unlock a world of wonder with our adventures -- and when you actively, curiously explore, your experiences of a place become all the richer and more meaningful.

I recently spent a weekend in the Everglades with my 10 year old and we certainly made the most of our time. We entered through the Ernest F. Coe Visitor Center and were greeted by a variety of "animal crossing" signs. On the Pinelands Trail we encountered two baby alligators and while hiking the Gumbo Limbo Trail, two snakes appeared, seemingly from the earth, stopping us in our tracks. Our senses alert, we reassessed our surroundings and looked up to discover not one, not two, but at least half a dozen large iguanas in the dense forest canopy above our heads.

The next part of our adventure brought us deeper into the Everglades; we headed north for an airboat tour a la the Miami Everglades Connection. We were the only folks on the tour, aside from Captain Jack. The airboat ride was smooth and peaceful; the flora was stunning, and the landscape truly felt endless.

Once we'd ventured deep -- deep -- into the marshes, Captain Jack cut the motor and everything became still; it was the quietest "sound" I'd ever experienced. This serenity was interrupted by gentle, rippling waters that revealed one, and then another, 9+ feet long alligators.

The gators didn't scare me -- they are quite beautiful. What did give me pause, however, was the tale Captain Jack proceeded to tell: the story of the Florida Skunk Ape.

According to legend, the Skunk Ape is Florida's very own Bigfoot. He's a larger-than-life beast said to wander the state's swamps, standing (slouching?) over seven feet tall and moving with long, lumbering slides. (By "legend," I mean true legend: the indigenous peoples of Southern Florida saw -- and feared -- the Esti Capcaki, "Furry Tall Man" or "Hairy Giant." This creature wasn't just physically big; he had a foul stench that lingered far after disappearing back into the marshes -- a calling card of sorts.)

Modern records place the mythical beast in Apalachicola, Florida, in 1818. Local newspapers reported sightings of a "man-sized monkey" raiding food stores and stalking fishermen along the shore, leaving his signature sour scent behind.

In 1929, another sighting occurred at the Perky Bat Tower at the Florida Keys. Witnesses reported seeing an ape-like creature lumbering around the construction site. Sightings continued in the 1950s-1970s as construction boomed in South Florida, driving this beast further into the Everglades and reaching fever pitch in the '70s to the point where, in 1977, a bill was proposed to the Florida Legislature to make it illegal to "take, possess, harm or molest anthropoids or humanoid animals." It didn't pass.

Then in 1997, something happened that would bring the Skunk Ape back into the cultural zeitgeist. Floridian Dave Shealy found footprints.

The footprints were located near wildlife bait stands that had been... ransacked. When Captain Jack described the scene, it looked as though a bear had raided a campground. And then there was that smell. Curiosity piqued, Shealy baited several nearby locations, each of which resulted in multiple witnesses coming forward with tales of their own Skunk Ape sightings.

This wasn't Shealy's first sighting; he first encountered the cryptid in the early '70s when he was just a kid. He'd been deer hunting with his brother, Jack, in the Big Cypress National Preserve. Movement in the mangroves caught Jack's attention, and he caught a glimpse of... a creature. The tall grass obfuscated Dave's view, so his brother picked him up to get a closer look. The two stared, dumfounded, until the skies unleashed, startling the creature back into the woods.

Curiouser and curiouser.

After the '90s Shealy couldn't let it go; setting out on a path that would lead to establishing the Official Skunk Ape Research Headquarters on his property. The first cryptozoologist to dedicate his career to the Florida Skunk Ape; today, Dave Shealy is considered the leading expert on this unique man-beast.

Today, Shealy organizes tours of the Skunk Ape's habitat and offers camping at the Skunk Ape Headquarters in Ochopee, Florida. He says there are seven to nine of the creatures inhabiting the Everglades -- and he believes he can prove it, Captain Jack told me.

In 2023, the Mid Florida Bigfoot Research Team released their The David Shealy Skunk Ape Sighting Research Study, a documentary about the infamous Skunk Ape sighting Shealy filmed on July 8, 2000, in the Everglades at the Big Cypress National Preserve. It's convincing -- especially as someone who recently spend time in the Everglades.

Captain Jack, a man who says his allegiance is to "the Everglades over everything" and knows the mangroves, mashes, and sloughs like the back of his hand, admits he's never seen a Skunk Ape himself. But there have been nights when he and his friends found themselves deep in the South Florida landscapes, and he hasn't felt alone.

While sightings have continued into the 21st century, many discount Shealy's research as myth -- but who are we to say, really? Faith is, after all, belief based on apprehension rather than truth.

"I just don't know what to believe. It's a very compelling story, though, especially when you look back - the Indians actually talk about it - the Seminoles and Miccosukees talk about it... makes you wonder."

Indeed it does.