Episode one begins with investigator Dr. Travis Taylor being shuttled by private helicopter from Salt Lake City to a small ranch in Eastern Utah. Before landing, the pilot invokes what those of us who grew up in the faith will immediately recognize as a Mormon prayer; i.e., “Heavenly father, we’re grateful for the opportunity to do some exploring and research. We ask for safety today. Protect us as we come into this ranch. We say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.” I’ve heard the words so many times; it’s pretty much the same prayer offered up prior to tipoff at church basketball games, following which I’d be pummeled with elbows and slammed forcefully to the hardwood floor.
The difference this time is that Dr. Tayor is actually looking for trouble and fully expecting to find it, having been briefed that Skinwalker Ranch is a hotbed of paranormal activity. As it turns out, however, the scariest thing on the spread is resident security guard Bryant Arnold, code named “Dragon,” who is never seen without a scowl on his face and 12-gauge scatter gun in hand.
Dragon is clearly a local, as is ranch manager Thomas Winterton, who wears a black leather hat and perpetual expression of befuddlement. We are told that Winterton has previously done hospital time due to a curious bump on the back of his head that recurs whenever anyone turns even one shovelful of soil on the ranch. If no bump, at least a splitting headache—think of those lunar explorers upon unearthing a mysterious monolith in the film 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY. And indeed, there does appear to be a large foreign object of some kind buried beneath the surface of the ranch—according to a scan by ground-penetrating radar.
A local drilling company crew is called upon to take a soil sample; however, the project grinds to a halt after either the drilling rig or the camera begins to shake, while Winterton’s head begins to hurt. Subsequent X-rays of Winterton’s skull are inconclusive, as no medical doctors in the vicinity are willing to risk their reputations on a diagnosis. However, in a later episode a local veterinarian consents to conduct an autopsy on a dead cow, one of 41 cattle on the ranch, along with two alpacas, which basically function as lab rats.
Was this a case of cattle mutilation? Evidently not, though we do see various file photos of mutilated cows while ranch caretaker Kandus Linde recoils in horror as the vet eviscerates the carcass. In search of answers, the investigators fly in Linda Moulton Howe, the world’s foremost expert on the subject, who confirms that the cow in question is clearly dead, and—thanks to the local vet—mutilated. Cutaway to multiple puzzled onlookers, plus one frowny face.
Based on surveillance footage, it is suggested that the unfortunate beast had succumbed to stress, perhaps caused by a small black object hovering overhead that might be either an alien spacecraft or one of the production crew’s aerial drones, which devices are evidently impervious to the sort of electrical malfunctions that bedevil the cell phones, battery packs, microwave detectors, and radiation dosimeters of cast members.
In one episode, the investigative crew gets wind of possible paranormal activity at the main ranch house. Sound-activated sensitive microphones are installed throughout the building; then, after said microphones pick up no unusual noises, the resident caretakers are advised to start stomping their feet and slamming doors. Aha! Bumps in the night!
In another episode, multiple trial balloons are launched, along with Estes model rockets—which, like all Estes model rockets ever launched, experience multiple unanticipated malfunctions. In still another episode, the team invites a tribal elder from the nearby Ute Nation onto the property. Larry Cesspooch offers up a prayer and sprinkles tobacco leaves, but no matter, weird things continue to happen, because this is, after all, a television series.
In the final episode of season one, Utah’s attorney general Sean Reyes is invited to sit in on a briefing, which he does—taking a break from his usual duties of campaigning against Liz Cheney in Wyoming and trying to dig up bogus votes for Trump in Nevada. Takeaway from the high level meeting is that Skinwalker Ranch merits further looking into. Or, as ranch owner Brandon Fugal puts it:
“If this ranch can help us better understand the nature of the universe, this will indeed be the greatest science project and endeavor of all time.”
So, I suppose I’ll continue watching. If nothing else, I’m hoping that somewhere the road, Doctor Taylor can figure out whether the noun “phenomena” is singular or plural.