The fact that these witch lights are associated with railroad tracks or beds makes us wonder if there might not be some geological or geomagnetic component to their appearances. But why would anything psychic favor these broad straight channels through the landscape? It almost makes us wonder if it’s hard for a post-colonial shaman to see when disguised as a light. Maybe these artificial paths make for easy navigating.
THE HILL OF DEAD WITCHES
One of New York’s folkloric hotspots is a piece of territory on the side of a hill in Allegany State Park. To the Seneca this is Ga’hai Hill, a region of magic and mystery where anything otherworldly is likely. It’s an “X-zone,” in other words, an area whose magic affects many who come here. From a distance, witch lights can be seen at night on this hill. The northern Alleghenies are part of a region that has long been a major zone for UFO reports. Ga’hai Hill is one upstate site like the English ones noted by Paul Devereux, in which earthly lights and celestial ones—the classic UFO—may be linked. There may be more to it than that.
In 2007, we interviewed a woman of Onondaga ancestry who reported that she was the descendant of a woman who had been considered a witch. Possibly during the hard-to-date Onondaga witch scare, this woman fled to Seneca territory near Salamanca, where either her practice or the accusations caught up to her. Eventually she was executed and buried on a hill in Cold Spring—Ga’hai Hill where other witches may have been laid to rest.
Few of the Salamanca Seneca admit knowing of this association to the hill, but there was witch trouble in this area before, as we’ve seen during the time of Cornplanter. And reports of the lights are still around. Residents of Cold Spring, Steamburg, and Salamanca persistently see them on Ga’hai Hill. Many Salamanca motorists are terrified of breaking down anywhere near that hill, even in the section of I-86 that arcs the base.
The Gold of Ga’hai Hill
Allegany Seneca storyteller George Heron (1919–2011) heard most of his tales from an uncle who was born before the Civil War. The interchange included many legends about the ga’hai on Bay State Hill across the river from Cold Spring, about four miles southeast of Red House Lake. The ones Heron’s uncle described floated about as high as a human knee, “like a car headlight but with no explanation.”
Heron’s uncle told a tale about three Union deserters en route to Canada carrying bags of money through the Allegany Reservation. They recruited three young Seneca to round up food and civilian clothing and get them directions to Lake Erie. In payment, the soldiers offered each Seneca a full grab into a bag of gold coins, a fistful that would have been the sum of a lifetime. “But don’t go spending it right away,” they warned as they left. “It’s hot money.”
The joy of the three Seneca was mixed. Their first worry was losing their treasure. Their second was being caught with it. The oldest had a plan: He’d bury it on Ga’hai Hill. He’d fill his pipe at the bottom of the trail, start smoking, and walk with the gold to the top. When the tobacco ran out he’d bury it, and that would be the way to find it again. The three would wait a few years to start spending it. Thismade sense. “Nobody will poke around for it up there,” they reasoned, because of the dread of the witch lights.
The oldest Seneca did as he had planned, found a tree special enough to remember, and dug. Over the winter he caught an illness and died before he could show his friends to the spot. All anyone knew was that the gold was somewhere on the trail up Ga’hai Hill, about as far as a single pipeful would last.
For years, the two surviving friends prowled Ga’hai Hill, their thirst for gold evidently greater than their fear of witches or lights. After their deaths, one of the men’s sons took up the search. Storyteller Duce Bowen told me this is thought to be a true tale in Salamanca. Even today, when the witch lights are out on the hill, people wonder if the souls of the treasure hunters might be among them, still looking for their gold.
The Boys Who Hooked a Witch Light
One summer evening in the 1930s, two young men from Cold Spring trolled lines from their little boat on the Allegheny River. By dusk, they had some fish to show for their efforts, including a couple of the suckers that were such a delicacy to the family cats. One of them spotted a mysterious light along the nearby railroad tracks. At first, it was a bright sphere moving slowly at ground level. He called to the other to look, and it sped up.
The light hopped to the treetops, came back to the earth, and bounced up again. It made long, majestic arcs, bounding like a luminous ball tossed by a giant along the railroad tracks. It disappeared when it landed on the riverbank. A small fire soon started on the spot. The boys were alarmed to see a shadowy human form in the glow. It could only be a witch. “Let’s get out of here,” one whispered. They paddled as quietly as they could, with occasional backward glances.
The fire on the shore faded into a white light. It came down the bank, entered the water, and came at them under the dark water like a glowing torpedo, making one small wave. It overtook
