When doing research for this blog, if I want to feature any kind of female monster I have to sift through a lot of moaning-ghost-who-lost-her-lover type of B.S. It’s almost as bad as your stereotypical “whoops we built [insert building] on an Indian burial ground.” Any legend that colors outside of those boxes is welcome.
La Lechuza colors outside of the box. She is probably one of the more recognizable monsters on this blog, at least to living along the border between the U.S. and Mexico. Spanish speakers will recognize that her name translates to “the owl;” a simple name that hints at her elegant horror.
Sobs in the dark
A long time ago, after some townsfolk discovered that their neighbor was doing black magic, they killed her. As one would expect, she returned to take revenge on every generation thereafter. But there was a twist: she came back partially owl.
Or maybe it was that La Lechuza was once just a normal woman, who in exchange for magical powers made a terrible deal with the devil.
Or maybe she is many women, vengeful ghosts whose husbands were faithless or remarried after their deaths (*sigh*…those tired tropes again).
Though they might not be certain where she comes from, those that know la Lechuza know that if they hear strange sounds outside their door, they had better lock it tight and plug their ears. The classic Lechuza move is to wait outside someone’s house in the dark and then, with increasing urgency, to make sounds that replicate the cries of a human baby. If the heartless (or smart) human does not take the bait, she might try human whistles or trills. She will keep it up until the victim’s curiosity (or annoyance) get the better of them and they come outside.
What they find could drive them mad. As I mentioned before, la Lechuza is a hideous cross between woman and owl. She is big enough to carry a grown man off with her talons, and has a human enough face so you can read her expression as she watches you with her big, flat eyes. Some tales give her a beak; in others she has a mouth so that she can speak to you in her deep voice and ask you, for example, to hand over your newborn. Presumably she is also able to spin her head around (I found no accounts of that, but sincerely hope that it is the case).
So once you leave the safety of your house, you’re basically dead. Most Lechuza victims are carried off as food, fated to end up in a giant owl pellet ready to be dissected in hell’s elementary school.
Death and dented cars
Even if you don’t end up eaten (or have your offspring eaten) by la Lechuza, her presence means nothing good. She has long been considered an omen of death, and often leaves thunderstorms and other misfortunes in her wake.
When not attacking people in their homes, she targets cars, especially along dark, deserted stretches of highway. Among her powers are the ability to neuter technology, so victims will suddenly find their battery dead as a giant owl runs them off the road.
An example: There was once a couple that thought la Lechuza was bunk. As they drove down a dry, empty road late one night, their windshield wipers abruptly squealed across the glass. The couple joked that it must be La Lechuza. Half a second later, something black loomed up ahead; they cursed and slammed on the brakes. It was a giant owl, perched on top of a phone pole, watching them. Hearts in their throats, the couple sped away, new Lechuza believers and lucky to be alive.
As if all of these offenses weren’t enough, La Lechuza is also known to carry out petty attacks. This includes pecking at people’s faces and tearing up their flesh (and clothes, I guess, but the flesh seems more important).
Basically, screw that meanie owl. Which brings me to my next point…
There are a a few ways that you can fight back against La Lechuza, but my favorite is to gustily cuss her out (though there are accounts of her killing you if you try). Apparently if you scream at her loudly and colorfully enough, she will leave you alone.
A second exciting way of defending yourself is to blast la Lechuza with a shotgun. This, too, has varying results…presumably you have to get the shot right the first time, because you won’t get a second chance. Stories of success include an old woman disappearing for several weeks after a Lechuza was shot; when she finally emerged, it was with a limp. A more gruesome tale recalls a man shooting the Lechuza out of the sky and then finding a woman’s corpse bent over a high tree branch the following morning. (It is easier, I suppose, to think that the woman might be the dead Lechuza, rather than the victim of some heinous, more mortal crime.)
Prayer, trying seven knots in a rope, or asking for help from a curandera are also defense options, as is good old-fashioned salt. Personally, I think that a mixture of two or more probably wouldn’t hurt.
Of course, some say that La Lechuza isn’t there to hurt you, but to warn you of something. But what fun is that?
Would calling la Lechuza a “flipping poopoo-head” be sufficient to save one’s life? Share your thoughts in the comments below.