FULTON HILLS GAZETTE
“Local Man Claims Threatening Encounter with Hauntahk in Rocker’s Woods”

From the archives. Contributor: Spence Hutchins, Curator of the Fulton Hills Historical Society.

August 12, 1971

WEST FULTON— Late Monday night, Sammy “Lucky” Calhoun stumbled into the Rusty Jug Pub with a tale that’s set tongues wagging across West Fulton. Known as much for his colorful stories as for his fondness for drink, Calhoun claims he had a terrifying run-in with the legendary Hauntahk while wandering through Rocker’s Woods.

What he was doing in the woods at that hour remains a mystery. “I had my reasons,” was all Calhoun would say, brushing off further questions.

Calhoun described the creature as massive, its fur rough and uneven, like it had grown wild with debris clinging to it. “It looked like something been in the woods forever,” he said. “Like it was part of the place.”

What sets Calhoun’s story apart from most of the previous Hauntahk sightings is the creature’s alleged aggression. He claimed it carried a hefty piece of deadfall—a large, broken branch or chunk of wood—and wielded it with unmistakable intent.

“It didn’t just stand there looking mean!” Calhoun insisted. “It lifted that piece of wood… like it was testing the weight. Then started making these awful, low, deep noises. Not really growling, but I ain’t know whatever else to call ‘em.  I could feel it here,” he said, beating his chest.  “Then bam! It swings at me! Missed by a hair, but I’m telling you, it weren’t bluffing.”

Shaken but unharmed, Calhoun fled the woods and has refused to return.

The incident has drawn mixed reactions. Sheriff Dale Marks dismissed the story outright, calling it “another one of Lucky’s nighttime adventures.” However, not everyone is so quick to scoff.

“Rocker’s Woods has a reputation for weird stuff,” said an officer who declined to be identified for the article. “While our good ole friend Lucky’s story is a fair bit dramatic, the details about the Hauntahk’s behavior align with some old legends and campfire stories of it being territorial. The use of a weapon, though? That’s new to me.”

As for Calhoun, he remains steadfast in his account. “Believe me or not, I don’t care,” he said. “But you won’t catch me in them woods again.”

Whether a drunken fabrication or a chilling encounter with something unknown, Calhoun’s story has added yet another chapter to the growing lore of the Hauntahk—and another reason for locals to steer clear of Rocker’s Woods after dark.

—By Edith Marell, Staff Reporter