A Winnebago tale from Wisconsin:
This is how I remember it.

The family, a brave and his wife and their new baby securly tied to his cradle board, were walking through the trees and they decided to make their camp and eat. A fire was built, a fish caught and prepared. When they went to get the the baby they found all of the bindings broken and small footprints leading toward and into the lake. Where they emerged from the lake they seemed to be growing larger with almost every step. The ground under the footprints was cold and the leaves of grass were brittle and frozen solid. Thunder and lightning rolled through the sky and a huge lightning bolt cracked close to them. A short distance ahead a huge tree crashed to Earth. When they got to the place where the thing had fallen they found a shattered giant of solid ice in pieces all over the ground. In the middle of all the frozen debris, where the heart should've been, was their infant---dead. Then they realized the truth of it: Their baby had been a Windigo--one of that race of giant ice people/monsters.

Yes, Dwain Story wrote this song---in the early '60s. Every so often somebody takes to it, learns it and this modern song version of the many Windigo legends gets some new life. I think folks take to it for it's strangeness.

Dwain Story is a distant relative of Carl Story, an early bluegrass picker. He was a member of THE KNOBLICK UPPER TEN THOUSAND, a bluegrassy/folkie band of the 60s made up of Eric Jacobsom, Stu (Darsono) Ramsey, and Pete Childs. Dwain is quite ill now. I think I'll make some phone calls and check on him. Thanks to you all for reminding me that I've been negligent there.

Art Thieme