The Breadloaf Covent and Ostremar
Selections from Vermont Obscura: Forgotten Folklore and Occult History of the Green Mountain State, 2nd Edition (1937)
Excerpt from Chapter II: “Things That Go Bump In The Night”
In the remote and largely inaccessible region of Addison County, near the border of what was once indigenous Algonquin territory, historical records and oral traditions suggest the presence of a fringe religious sect known as the Breadloaf Covenant. Active from the late 18th century through to the early 20th, this isolated community is believed to have practiced an esoteric form of ritual worship centered on a figure they called Ostremar—a hare-like entity described in surviving texts as “a great burrowing god with antlers of ash and a maw lined in shadow.” Early anthropological surveys, though sparse, note peculiar springtime gatherings marked by animal sacrifice, the distribution of dyed eggs filled with hair and teeth, and unsettling children's rhymes about a "Thumping One" who comes "from the roots beneath to reap the soft and slow."
While mainstream historians initially dismissed the cult as an offshoot of Christian syncretism or a colonial-era fertility rite distorted by isolation, more recent examinations suggest possible ties to pre-colonial cryptid legends—specifically, Algonquin stories of a “white shadow hare” said to haunt thawing forest edges. Curiously, several 19th-century disappearances in the region remain officially unsolved, and local folklore continues to caution travelers against walking in the woods near Bramblehook during the weeks surrounding the vernal equinox. To this day, residents of nearby towns report strange nocturnal sounds: rhythmic thumping in the underbrush, and on occasion, egg-shaped objects found near doorsteps, still warm and inexplicably pulsing.
When melt doth stir the forest floor,
And sap runs red from maple’s core,
Take heed, ye child, stay hearthside kept,
Lest thumping feet disturb thy slept.
— The Hollow Hare, Author Unknown
Excerpt from Chapter IV: “The Hidden Orders: Sectarian Practices in the Green Mountains”
The Breadloaf Covenant, perhaps the most elusive and deliberately obscured sect in Vermont’s occult history, is believed to have operated for over a century within what is now the Breadloaf Wilderness near Ripton. Official records are nearly nonexistent, owing to the group’s isolation and apparent distrust of outside governance. What little is known comes from scattered 19th-century forestry reports, a handful of missionary journals, and the whispered recollections of Ripton’s oldest families—many of whom refuse to speak the name Breadloaf aloud.
Founded sometime between 1785 and 1792 by a disillusioned itinerant preacher named Elias Varnum, the Covenant blended Christian apocalypticism with a bizarre animistic mythology centered on the figure of Ostremar, a hare-like “soil god” they believed to inhabit the under-earth. Varnum’s surviving writings—collected posthumously under the title The Gospel of the Hollow Root—reveal a theology of cyclical sacrifice and rebirth, wherein spring marked not resurrection, but reaping. The Breadloaf congregation is said to have practiced seasonal rites involving symbolic (and possibly literal) offerings to appease the creature and ensure protection for the coming year.
By 1911, references to the group vanish entirely from regional correspondence. Local legend attributes their disappearance to a failed rite during an unusually late thaw, though more rational accounts suggest a combination of internal collapse, disease, or forced abandonment due to increased federal land surveys. Hikers in the Breadloaf Wilderness still report finding crude cairns, bone-laced effigies, and strange sigils carved into birch trees. Though largely dismissed as local vandalism, one particularly well-preserved artifact—dubbed the “Ripton Paten”—features an engraving nearly identical to known depictions of Ostremar, with script resembling early Covenant sigils. It remains in storage at the Middlebury Historical Society under restricted access.
Additional mentions of Ostremar
From the Journal of Silas Greeley, Surveyor’s Assistant
Dated April 3rd, 1889. Found among belongings recovered near Middlebury Gap.
"This morning we passed through a swale of birch and pine just west of the upper ravine—cold air hanging heavy despite the sun. Around noon, I became separated from the main party whilst mapping a stream that forks into the hollow. It was there I observed signs of habitation—though none marked on our charts. Crude wooden figures hung from the branches, each shaped like a man with the head of a hare. The wood was old, soaked through, but bound at the joints with braided hair. I called out, thinking perhaps some trapper still dwelled in these woods, but was met only with silence. Then, a sound I shall not soon forget: a slow, deliberate thump, like a bootfall in wet soil, repeating at irregular intervals. No wind stirred, but the trees seemed to bend nonetheless.
I made haste back to camp, but my sense of time seemed muddled. Mr. Kitteridge claimed I had been gone only an hour, though I would have sworn it was closer to three. That night, we found a painted egg near our fire pit—no color but red, and warm to the touch. Kitteridge thought it a prank from the college boys in Middlebury. I met otherwise, and I did not sleep."
From the roots beneath
Comes the Thumping One;
Ostremar's dread tred
Reaps the soft and slow.
— Ostremar Tread, Author Unknown
Rhyme from Children’s Game Called “Skip Hop Hare”
Skip once for the thumpin’ feet,
Skip twice for the sugar-sweet,
Skip thrice and don’t you peek—
The Hollow Hare don’t like the weak.
He knocks at dusk, he knocks at three,
He’s lookin’ for the likes of thee.
He’s tall as trees and thin as air,
With twiggy horns and patchy hair.
“Come out, come out,” the bunny hums,
“I’ve brought a gift with sugared drums!”
But if you take the treat he brings—
You’ll never dance or skip or sing.
So skip your rope and shut the blind,
And leave no footprints he can find.
For Ostremar knows every name,
And children’s bones all burn the same.
Modern Depictions of Ostremar
The Thumping One
Written by Shel Silverstien
Thump-thump, he comes at night,
Through root and rot and fading light.
Ears like sails and teeth like bone,
He hunts the ones who walk alone.
Eggs of red and shells of gray,
Mark the house where children play.
From the roots beneath he rose—
To reap the soft and slow he goes.
Don't you run and don't you cry,
Hide your eyes and hush your sigh.
For if you hear the thumping drum,
It's far too late-he's surely come.
The Vizzerdrix from Magic: The Gathering