I work as a cryptozoologist. Independent researcher, mostly. I know how that sounds to some people, but it's legitimate work. I've spent the last fifteen years documenting unexplained animal sightings across Northern Europe. This happened in late November of 2003. I was in the Faroe Islands doing field research on reports of unusual livestock predation. The locals had been talking about sheep going missing, others found dead in ways that didn't match any known predator in the region. The Faroes don't have large predators. No wolves, no bears. So when farmers started finding sheep with strange injuries, I knew I needed to investigate. I flew into Vagar and made my way to Streymoy, the largest island. The weather was brutal that time of year. The sun barely rises in late November up there, just a few hours of dim twilight. Cold, wet, windy. Perfect conditions for something to move around unnoticed.
I'd been staying in a small guesthouse near Tórshavn for about a week, interviewing farmers and shepherds. One man, I'll call him Jóan, told me about a area on the eastern slopes where he'd lost three sheep in two weeks. He wouldn't go up there anymore. Said there was something wrong with the place. I decided to check it out myself. Packed light because the terrain is rough up there. Just my field notebook, some sample bags, basic camping gear. My Nikon camera was the only equipment I had with me for documentation. Battery life isn't great in the cold, so I was careful about when I used it. The hike took about two hours. Rocky, steep in places. The grass was slick from constant moisture. I could hear the ocean from every direction, that constant background roar. By the time I reached the area Jóan had described, the light was already starting to fade. Maybe 2 PM, but it felt like dusk.
I started finding signs pretty quickly. Tufts of wool caught on rocks. Disturbed ground. Then I saw the first carcass. It was a sheep, or what was left of one. But the thing is, it wasn't torn apart the way a predator would do it. The body was intact except for the abdominal area. And I mean surgically opened. Clean edges. The intestines were gone. Just gone. Not scattered around like a feeding. Just missing. I'd been doing this work long enough that I don't get squeamish easily, but something about it felt off. Wrong. I took some photos, made notes about the position and condition. The smell wasn't bad yet. Cold weather preserves things. Then I found the tracks.
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