The Pacific Northwest has Bigfoot. Scotland has the Loch Ness Monster. West Virginia has Mothman, and the town even throws him a festival.
Lincoln, Nebraska, has the Holmes Lake Fishman.
He has never been photographed, never been interviewed, and never once answered a polite hello. He is, in short, a perfect cryptid. Allow me to introduce him properly.
The scene of the sighting
Holmes Lake sits on Antelope Creek in southeast Lincoln. It covers about 112 acres, and a trail circles the shoreline and connects to the city’s larger trail system. By day, it is a very normal place. People fish from the pier and jetties, walk their dogs, run the loop, and feed opinions to the geese.
By night, apparently, it is something else entirely.
The first sighting
On June 8, 2018, a cyclist posted a report in r/lincoln, the city’s community on Reddit. The night before, at about 10:45, they had been riding the trail past the dog run on the east end of the lake. As they passed under 70th Street, right where Antelope Creek flows into the lake, something dove into the water with a big splash.
The witness was very clear about what it was not. It was not a mermaid. It was not half fish and half person in the tidy, storybook way. It was a true fish-human hybrid, built like a Sleestak from the old TV show Land of the Lost, only with fish scales instead of reptile scales and fins where the claws should be.
Faced with a creature from the deep, the witness did what any calm Nebraskan would do. To hide their surprise, they casually said, “Hey fishman.”
He did not reply. The witness generously assumed he was already underwater and couldn’t hear. I like to think he was just busy.
In the interest of fairness, the witness admitted it was late and the whole thing might not have been real. If it was someone in a fishman costume, they added, that person deserved real credit for committing to the bit and jumping in the creek.
The evidence, reviewed
As a public service, here is everything science currently knows about the Holmes Lake Fishman:
- Photographs: none
- Video: none
- Splashes: at least one, very big
- Greetings returned: zero
That is exactly the right amount of evidence for a legend. Any more and he’d just be a guy.
How the legend grew
Lincoln took the report seriously in the only way that counts: it started making jokes immediately.
In the first night’s comments, someone replied as the Fishman himself, apologizing for startling anyone during his late-night swim. Someone else replied as the creek, complaining that a fishman had jumped into it while a cyclist watched. Others announced that Holmes Lake also had fishwomen and fishchildren, which raised a lot of questions about the size of the community down there. About a week later, an artist posted a sketch of the city’s new fishman overlord. The legend had its first portrait.
Then the years rolled on, and the Fishman stuck around:
- 2019: When someone asked whether they could night fish at the lake past closing, the replies helpfully reminded them about the monster lurking there.
- 2020: A post simply asked, “What ever happened to fishman?” The theories were excellent. He was hibernating through the summer heat. He had signed a reality TV deal that was held up by a legal dispute with Bigfoot. One loyal runner reported saying hello to him every time they passed under 70th Street, which I consider a beautiful act of neighborliness.
- 2023: A second sighting, this time on the south shore. The new report described something tall and green, smelling strongly of fish, standing at the water’s edge. Lincoln’s response was swift and unanimous: the Fishman was back. By now he had a nickname, HLF, and was being called Lincoln’s very own cryptid.
- Since then: He has acquired a private flying saucer and a habit of spending winters on Mars. Honestly, given Nebraska winters, that is the most believable part of the story.
- 2025: When Lincoln residents built an “iceberg” of local lore, ranked from things everyone knows down to the deepest cuts, the Fishman landed near the bottom. That is where only true locals go, and frankly, where a fishman belongs.
A field guide to the Holmes Lake Fishman
For anyone hoping to spot him, here is what the lore tells us so far:
- Habitat: Holmes Lake, especially where Antelope Creek comes in under 70th Street
- Appearance: fish scales, fins, possibly tall and green, definitely not a mermaid
- Active hours: late evening, shortly before the park closes at 11 PM
- Communication: does not respond to “Hey fishman,” but you should still say it
- Known rivals: Bigfoot, in court
- Winter range: Mars, reportedly
Viewing etiquette: stay on the trail, leave by closing time, and please don’t go in after him. Swimming isn’t allowed at Holmes Lake, and the Fishman prefers his privacy anyway.
Why I made him
Here’s how I see it. We have a really cool cryptid. He’s sort of Lincoln’s own Bigfoot, and he came from our own lake, our own trail, and our own neighbors’ sense of humor. Other places put their legends on signs, mugs, and festival posters. Lincoln’s legend deserved to be celebrated too.
So I made him an official piece of Pixel Prairie Co. The Holmes Lake Fishman now appears on our pin-back buttons, so you can carry Lincoln’s most elusive resident with you on a backpack, a jacket, or a lanyard, without ever having to wait by the creek after dark.
The Lincoln Lore collection
Lincoln Lore is a collection of locally inspired goods built around Lincoln landmarks, history, and folklore, and the Fishman is the one who started it. He made his public debut at the Lancaster County Super Fair this summer, and that felt right. A local legend should be out among the people, even if he’d never admit to being there.
More Lincoln legends and curious local stories will continue to join the collection. If you know one that deserves a design, I’d love to hear it. And if you’re ever on the trail under 70th Street at dusk and hear a big splash, you know what to say.