There Be Giants

 

There Be Giants…

When you dive into the world of monsters and cryptids, it’s like peeling back layers of the unknown—tales of beasts, ancient lore, and modern sightings flood in from every corner of the internet. Today, I received a message that piqued my curiosity: “What do you know about giants? Specifically, those linked to Lovelock Cave in Nevada.”

Well, this wasn’t my first time wandering down this rabbit hole. In fact, one of my scripts referenced a hidden underground crypt that once held an ancient giant city with giant mummies and even a real giant overlord. And let me tell you, once you start looking into giant lore, you realize you’ve stumbled into a labyrinth of legend, folklore, and tantalizing, if not dubious, evidence. Go ahead—type “sites of giant graves” into a search engine and prepare to be inundated with tales that straddle the line between myth and reality.

Of course, the internet is awash with AI-generated images of colossal skulls and towering skeletons—visual fodder for the imagination. But were there ever real giants? Did anyone truly find evidence of these titanic beings?

Let’s dig deeper. The belief in giants stretches back to ancient texts and religious doctrines. The Old Testament mentions the Nephilim, a mysterious race of giants, and the legendary Goliath, slain by the shepherd David. Ancient Greek and Roman writers spoke of enormous skeletons, and during the Middle Ages, churches sometimes displayed these colossal bones as sacred relics, fueling the belief that giants once walked among us. Often, large bones—likely belonging to prehistoric animals—were mistakenly hailed as proof of these myths. The reports were rarely verified, and more often than not, the size of the remains exaggerated.

And then there’s the infamous Cardiff Giant of 1869, a ten-foot-tall petrified “man” that turned out to be an elaborate hoax. But the thirst for giants was already deeply rooted, and it wouldn’t be quenched by mere facts. By the late 19th and early 20th centuries, scientists began to scrutinize these claims. As paleontology and archaeology advanced, the focus shifted from mythical giants to an understanding of prehistoric life—fossil evidence that told a far different story than those old campfire tales.

The Smithsonian Institution became a key player in this hunt for truth, collecting and studying the remains to separate fact from fiction. But who were the gatekeepers of this knowledge? Who decided which bones told the true story of our past? Ales Hrdlicka, a prominent anthropologist at the Smithsonian, was relentless in his pursuit of scientific accuracy. Hrdlicka was often the first to call out “giant” discoveries as misidentified animal remains or outright hoaxes. He represented a new wave of emerging scientific standards, prioritizing verifiable evidence over folklore and myth.

But Hrdlicka wasn’t alone. Othniel Charles Marsh, though not officially tied to the Smithsonian, was one of the most influential paleontologists of his time, famously locked in a fierce rivalry with Edward Drinker Cope. Together, they cataloged iconic dinosaurs like Triceratops, Stegosaurus, and Brontosaurus—creatures whose size may have sparked the imagination but had no link to ancient human giants. Other notable figures, like Joseph Leidy, Spencer Fullerton Baird, and John Bell Hatcher, were also deeply involved in the study and collection of fossils during this pivotal era.

Imagine these learned men, surrounded by bones, discussing the implications of their finds. What if, just once, they held in their hands the proof of a human giant? What impact would such a discovery have had on the scientific and religious doctrines of their time?

The legend of Lovelock Cave only adds fuel to the fire. According to the Paiute tribe, the cave was once home to the Si-Te-Cah, a race of red-haired giants who were hostile and cannibalistic. Eventually, they were driven into the cave and perished when fires were set at the entrance, cutting off their oxygen. When the cave was later excavated, miners and archaeologists found numerous artifacts, bones, and enormous woven sandals. While some bones were initially thought to be evidence of giants, subsequent investigations determined that they belonged to large humans or prehistoric animals. Naturally, many of these remains were sent to the Smithsonian for further study.

Or were they?

Calls to local museums and visitor centers around Lovelock Cave yield little more than shrugs. My mind wanders back to countless graves labeled as “giant” around the world. Could there still be Nephilim lurking near Mount Shasta? What about reports of giants in remote caves of Afghanistan, or grainy footage from Mongolia at the turn of the century? The stories are endless, and something about them doesn’t quite add up.

Centuries ago, when the average man was much shorter, seeing someone over six feet tall might have seemed extraordinary enough to birth legends. But then you look at ancient structures like the pyramids and art depicting towering human-like figures, double the size of those around them. Were these depictions mere symbols of power, or do they hint at something more?

I want giants to be real. Don’t you? The stories, the bones, the unanswered questions—they all beckon us to believe in a world where myth and reality are far more intertwined than we dare to admit.