A certain Harold M. Young served for many years in the government of Burma (since 2010 Myanmar) during the period when it was under British rule (mid-20th century), and had to work in the hinterland, surrounded by the Shan and Lahu tribes. It was from the highlanders that Yang first heard about the Tavas, and then saw them - these mountain werewolves terrorized the Lahu people living in the jungle on the border between the northern part of Thailand and Burma
When political unrest broke out in Burma, Young had to leave. Having collected a few belongings, but with a large baggage of unknown stories, Young went to Thailand, to the city of Chiang-mei, where, thanks to his reputation as a naturalist, he became the head of the local zoo.
Young claimed to know many of the strange stories of these hill tribes. And while all of his stories can be great material for children's fairy tales, Young insisted that it was all true.
“They have paranormal activities every day,” he said. “It seems to me that the further a person moves away from nature, leaving it behind the board of civilization, the more he loses the abilities that are natural for an“uncivilized”person."
By far, Young's eerie experiences are associated with the mystical Taw, whom he describes as a "local werewolf."
“Working among the Aboriginal people, I have heard about the Tawas for years,” Young told writer Ormand McGill. “They have been described as unknown nightmarish creatures with shaggy heads. On certain days of the month, the Tavas attacked the village, killing their victims or taking them with them."
Young strongly disagreed with those who considered these monsters to be the result of superstitions designed to justify the carelessness of the aborigines, because of which wild animals escaped the guards and penetrated into the village (the naturalist himself thought so until he really encountered this phenomenon).
In 1960, Young and a group of hunters got into a terrible story. The road took them to the lahu land, which lay high in the mountains - north of the Burmese-Thai-Land border. The passage was tiring, but the thought of a night hunt excited and strengthened. As the group approached the village, Young had no doubts that he would receive permission to fire at night: he used to always get along with the natives.
But that evening, the tribal leader raised his hand, which signified a rejection of Young's request. In his native language, the native said: - Not far from the village of Tav - now you cannot go hunting!
Before Harold Young could open his mouth to protest, there was an eerie scream. Immediately, the conditioned reflex of the hunter worked clearly: the hand itself drew the pistol, while the legs were already carrying Young to the thatched hut on the edge of the jungle, from where the cry was heard.
Young's nerves were on edge. He could not help but notice that the leader and the other natives were clearly in no hurry: the strong men who fearlessly walked the roaring tiger were not going to help now. Increasingly, Young heard the whispering word “Tav!”
As he neared the hut, Young prudently slowed down. An experienced man, he sensed danger in the atmosphere - in this now ominous silence of the hut. He tiptoed to the window and leaned against the wall to peer inside.
“Although there was a full moon that night,” Young recalled, “inside the hut I could only see a dark silhouette, which gradually became more distinct as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Then I saw a picture that I will not forget until my death - it literally made my hair stand on end”.
A nasty creature sat inside the hut and mumbled leisurely over the severed throat of a dying woman. There was only one name for this monster - half-man-half-beast: its body was covered with coarse hair; the muzzle was a disgusting bloody mess with a mouth, "from which drool flowed down its long fangs"; the eyes were small and red.
Young only by the appearance of the monster instantly guessed who it was. Almost automatically, he raised the pistol to the window and fired several shots - the distraught creature turned its head, then, with a wild roar, jumped to its feet and rushed out of the hut - past the crowded people. A second later, the monster disappeared into the night.
Young called out to the natives and rushed into the jungle in pursuit of the beast. They combed the wooded area behind the hut, next to a strip of land cleared for arable land. Young had to stop more than once to collect his thoughts: he was an experienced shooter, but obviously missed, although he shot at close range.
When the hunters returned to the village, they gathered around the fire. In their conversations, fear was felt, the mood was depressed. The night attack of the half-man-half-beast gave everyone a reason to reflect in silence, waiting for dawn.
In the morning, Young and Lahu resumed their search. In the light of day, a guiding thread was found - blood stains on the ground, which led to the nearest thicket.
Trembling with fear, the hunters followed their tracks: they surrounded the village and entered it from the opposite side. Young wondered: how could this monster sneak into the village unnoticed?
The trail of blood - now clearly visible - led to one of the huts. In an impulse, the men rushed to this hut and tore off the hide that covered the entrance. A man lay on the bed inside. The footprints led to a pool of blood: the man had a bullet wound in his side, just below the heart. So Young didn't miss after all.
“But it’s not… not the beast I saw ripping through a woman’s neck at night,” Young protested. - It's a man!
The tribal chief spat in the dead man's face.
- Tav! he said in disgust.
This was the only time that Harold Young actually saw the hated tawa. However, he had heard several stories about him.
Burmese tradition was to bury the dead in caves, leaving the corpses in a sitting position.
Two young hunters developed the habit of going out of the village to hunt, going into the jungle along a path past one of the burial caves. Every day one of them asked the other to walk a little alone, while he himself commemorated dead relatives. The friend, of course, agreed, and the respectful youth caught up with him later.
This went on for a while, but then the second hunter began to doubt his friend's sincerity. One day he pretended to go on as usual, and he himself returned to watch a friend. He saw him enter the cave, and he also carefully followed him. Inside, in the dim light, he saw a shaggy creature of terrible appearance, which sat, bending low over a corpse, and ate human remains.
Instinctively, the young tracker drew on the bowstring and fired an arrow at the monster's head. He fell on a half-eaten corpse.
Then the hunter came closer, pushed the monster with his foot and turned him over on his back. He was very frightened when he saw that his friend's eyes were staring at him. The young man's legs seemed to be rooted to the ground, and while he looked into those dead eyes, the whole appearance of the creature changed: the animal's face turned into the face of the young man he knew so well.
The hunter cried out, "Tav!" - once, loudly, and ran out of the cave.
Both of these stories seem to border on the supernatural and the incredible. Are they cases of lycanthropy1 in the mountains of Burma, or just fiction?
Despite the fact that these giant creatures of the forests and jungle are always described as half-human-half-beast, they somehow occupy a ghostly intermediate level between man and ape.
Could it be that these creatures were so similar to Homo sapiens that folklore lycanthropy was draped like a cloak over the shoulders of as yet undiscovered biological species?
The light in the burial cave was very weak, and the young hunter could kill his friend out of fear - before he saw him in the dark. That aborigine that Harold Young killed as a werewolf could have been shot without any guilt. Or maybe the naturalist considered all the options and came to the conclusion that what happened can only be explained by the fact that the tav is really a werewolf from the jungle.