Some say it’s an alien, others say a military experiment.

It’s also been called a dinosaur, a humanoid, a robot, and even the devil itself.

Earning its name from its favorite prey “the goatsucker”el chupacabras, stalks the countryside and cities alike.

Chupacabras are a popular folk legend but not everyone knows there are two different versions of the monster.

Reports of el chupacabras occur everywhere from Puerto Rico, where it actually originated, to Maine.

Whenever one is sighted or found dead, the international press latches on to the story with the same intensity as the bloodsucker itself.

Some believe it is a freak of nature.

Others are convinced it was a culmination of mass hysteria.

But it’s said to be a monster that doesn’t normally hunt humans.

So why are we so afraid of it?

The first reports of el chupacabras are actually relatively recent as monsters go.

It’s a modern monster, first appearing in 1995 in the Puerto Rican town of Canóvanas.

There were reports of the deaths of “dozens” of farm animals whose blood had apparently been sucked dry by small perforations in the neck and abdomen.

It caused immediate panic.

No animal was safe.

Ducks, rabbits, chickens, pigs, and yes goats, were all said to have been killed by a grotesque creature.

In Puerto Rico, chupacabras are said to be three to five feet tall with wings like a bat, fangs, a hunched back, large black or red eyes, and covered with either scales or quills.

Some reports include tiny arms and the ability to jump great distances.Others claim it has spikes along its back and a long tongue.

For the residents of Canóvanas in 1995 this terrifying monster was a real threat.

Their livestock were dying and people were so scared, that guards were positioned to protect what animals were left, children were escorted to school, and some families even abandoned their homes.

As local and national papers picked up the story, reports increased across the island.

By April 1996, more than 2,000 animals had fallen victim to el chupacabras.

At different times, Puerto Rico housed U.S. military personnel.

This includes Fort Buchanan located less than 40 minutes from Canóvanas.

Rumors swirled that el chupacabras was an escaped military experiment.

This is when things get more interesting.

Annddd political.

Mayor José Ramón “Chemo” Soto, who was up for reelection in 1996, decided to take matters into his own hands and protect the people and animals of his town with a safari.

In October 1995, Soto organized 200 people, including armed cops, and set out and catch the monster.

Dude literally dragged a goat around in a cage and carried a large crucifix.

The press dubbed him “Chemo Jones” Soto also loved to give interviews, and when the international, English-speaking press heard of el chupacabras in late 1995, his quotes appeared in The Washington Post, The New York Times, and this fun one.

Soto wasn’t the only politician to address el chupacabras.

The Puerto Rican government decided to step in.

They were not only concerned for the people and their livelihoods; they also recognized the negative impact the monster could have on tourism.

Biologists were brought in to find the scientific explanation for the attacks.

Theories ranged from bats driven by drought to seek new food sources, roving packs of wild dogs, to escaped rhesus monkeys that had been imported for scientific testing.

One zoologist believed the majority of the attacks were caused by a spike in the mongoose population.

Don’t let their cuteness fool you, those things are nuts.

Fun fact: Even though Puerto Ricans are citizens of the United States and must obey all of its laws, they don’t have the right to vote in the presidential election.

They’re asked to obey federal laws, but have little power to change them.

Technically, Puerto Rico is a commonwealth of the United States.

So Puerto Ricans — at least based on their lack of voting rights — are outsiders in their own country.

Which…just seems crazy to me.

What is this, Victorian England?

Despite all of this, or perhaps because of it, El Chupacabras became a pop culture phenomenon.

For some Puerto Ricans, the monster became an anti-hero, a monstrous symbol for their own otherness in relation to the United States.

By the end of 1995, thousands of shirts were printed with illustrations of chupacabras.

It inspired three songs, and a cocktail.

In the early 2000s, a different kind of chupacabra emerged.

Reports from Mexico and the southwestern United States described el chupacabras as a hairless, gaunt animal walking on four legs—a vast departure from the original Puerto Rican monster.

Unlike the Puerto Rican version, actual corpses have been found.

Upon examination, these canine-looking creatures always turn out to be coyotes, dogs, or raccoons with genetic abnormalities or victims of mange.

An animal infected with mange has severe itching and hair loss.

Some even have self-inflicted wounds from scratching and chewing.

In advanced cases, the skin of the animal will become thicker and darker in color, and their body may be emaciated.

All of these symptoms can explain the chupacabras appearance.

Because this “chupacabra” is based on real world animals, it carries less cultural significance than it’s Puerto Rican cousin.

The unique political status of Puerto Rico helped to shape the el chupacabras myth.

It became a symbol of cultural otherness, and the mystery surrounding its origin emphasized how those in power can control information.

One thing both myths have in common, is that real animals are actually dying.

For farmers and rural citizens, the threat to their livelihoods is a huge, very real problem.

Monster mythologies are typically thought of as ancient tales told long ago.

But el chupacabras shows us that these stories can arise today.

They highlight our fascination with trying to explain the unexplained, and allow us to tell our cultural histories by merging fact and fiction.