News is a funny beast. There are big stories that get lost on the back pages of newspapers and those TV guys who get distracted by something else. There are seemingly absurd stories that explode into mushroom clouds of ink and they float across the country and the world. It's a strange, strange beast, is all I'm saying.

Some of the biggest stories are big for obvious reasons. The terrorist bombings of 911. The tsunami that wiped out entire villages on several continents. Hurricane Katrina and the weird sense of people stranded while the rest of the country fumbled in the rescue efforts. Death and suffering on large scales will always be news.

 Celebrities who act up criminally will always make the headlines and they will always be the subject of incessant chatter. OJ and his poorly fitting glove. Pee Wee Herman and his interrupted act of self love in a movie theater. Marv Albert and his penchant for biting. Robert Blake and that clumsily killing. 

Here in Maine, where we tend to live next door to kin and have acres of land between our homes, drama is slow to seep into the national press. The murder of a 4-year-old girl stuffed into an oven in Auburn in 1984. The disappearance of a high school football star in Lewiston in 1995. The beating deaths of two nuns at a Waterville convent in 1996. A mayor writes a letter asking for a halt to Somali immigration. Church poisonings in the northern tip of the state. A Bates College student stabbed to death during a brawl between the haves and the have-nots. 

For better or for worse, the Mystery Beast of 2006 carried from tiny Turner, Maine to the rest of the world like the spread of some super flu. The story got so big, it was like something you could pick up and carry around, but only if you had a couple sturdy friends along to help. It was fun, everyone was giddy and a good time was had by all. For days and days, it was like a creature party. 

Then the ugliness began. The woman who first reported the beast began to feel she was being poorly treated. Her photos were everywhere -- brother, I mean everywhere. From the AOL start up page to CNN. Very little capital from the photos made its way to the woman and yet hundreds of new media outlets, blogs and souvenir hunters gained possession of those photos every day.  

The state's wildlife experts came under fire for completely ignoring reports about the dead animal. They said "it's not our job," while the rest of the population insisted: "then why do we need you at all?" The game wardens got haughty about it, most of the common folk gave them a collective finger. 

There were earnest arguments about the decaying corpse of the dead beast. Samples of it were collected, but the head was gone. What began as a subtle debate over who would send off for DNA testing turned into a race over who could get it done first. I was glad to be rid of that stinky paw, and the responsibility for its care. 

There developed a strange rift between news people and those ardent fans of cryptozoology. The latter group accused the former of taking mere road kill and turning it into a media freakshow. They loudly accused me of sensationalizing a story and in doing so, cloudy more serious matters of cryptozoology. I have been scorned by a group or two in my day, but I never imagined drawing the wrath of passionate followers of Bigfoot and Nessie.

 I did four radio interviews at the peak of the beast story and it was fun as hell. I got to hunker down over the corpse and even that had a sort of rancid thrill. I still have a sort of smug satisfaction about being among the first to clap eyes on the creature and of being the one to formally introduce it to the world. 

But big stories have crushing weight. Michelle O'Donnell, discoverer of Maine's Mystery Mutant is left bitter and angry. Press outfits can't quite remember who gave whom the photos and how they ended up in the hands of the Associated Press and other wire services. O'Donnell's appearance on the Montel Williams show and other national programs is in doubt.

 When the DNA is back, I think we'll find that the mystery creature is no mystery at all. It will be something we all recognize and there will be a collective ahhhh. Not a big ahhhh, mind you. Because as intense as the attention got over the critter, I suspect this will not be a story to be remembered. Fascination with the mystery had intensity alright, but I doubt its staying power. It will fade the way a dream fades as the day progresses. Few people will think of it after a month. It will certainly not endure a year in the collective memory, though the press will revisit the creature when they do the perennial news round ups before New Year's Day.

 For me, it's all good. I'm ready for the next big thing, be it the crime of the century or a UFO sighting. News is as unpredictable as anything in the world. The next big thing will bury the last big thing like an avalanche of information. It's the way of the business. It's the nature of the beast.