This is an email from Betty. Miss Betty, this is quite unusual.
I've never read a story like this. I think you'll enjoy it. Miss
Betty writes, I spent most of February twenty eighteen in the hospital in central
Louisiana. The Red River runs behind that hospital. I was on the fourth
floor, and with the floor to ceiling windows in my room, I had
the perfect view of the flooding that was occurring at that time. Every day
I watched the river rise a little more. It left its bank and flooded
a small park, leaving just the tops of the tree sticking out of the
water, and then it flooded the parking lot and the road that went to
the park. I sat there for hours watching the river traffic until it was
shut down due to high water. And then I watched as all sorts of
debris floated down the river. There were pieces of buildings and trees of all
sizes. I even saw a car float by close to the bank, or
what was supposed to be the bank was a whirlpool. It must have been
eight feet across, and it spun round and around, sucking in anything that
got close to it. And I often wonder where that stuff went once it
got pulled under. One day, my husband was there and we were watching
the river as usual. Since I was bedbound, there really wasn't anything else
to do, and as we watched, we saw a huge pile of debris
coming down the river. It floated over toward our side, and by the
time it reached us, it was hitting the tops of the trees and the
park and it started breaking up. First I saw a big tree break off
from the pile and moved toward the whirlpool. And then something else broke off.
As it started moving in the same direction as the tree, it turned
in slow circles. I saw the end of it and then the side,
and I could tell what it was, but the part that was sticking up
out of the water looking like long red hair. The part in the water
was moving with the floe and was darker in color. And then it turned
to the other end, and this end was bobbing up and down in the
water, and when the top broke the surface, it looked kind of pointed.
This thing was long and big. I would say it was nine feet
long. And that's when it hit me what this thing could be. My
husband thought maybe it was a cow, and then he suggested that it could
be a horse, and I pointed out how it looked like it was on
its belly with its arms and legs stretched out. He said he knew it
was big and it had long hair, but he just wasn't sure what it
was. But I was sure. As the tree was being sucked into the
whirlpool, this thing stopped circling and it turned. It started down the river,
and at that moment the nurse came in and drew our attention away long
enough that we barely turned back in time as it floated away. My husband
will only say that it was very big, and Harry, he won't commit
himself to say one way or another what it was. But as for me,
I was in the hospital and I was on painkillers. But I know
what I saw and nothing will change my mind. And that's the end of
her email. And she tells this whole story, but she never says the
word. She never says that she thought it was a bigfoot. I can
only assume that that's what she thought. It was. Red hair swirling in
the water, nine feet tall. Something pointy kind of rises out of the
water. Maybe it's a conical shaped head who knows, but this is very
interesting. I've never read anything like this. And you never hear stories about
dead bigfoots ever. Ever, you'll never hear a story about a dead bigfoot.
I'm not talking about a kill to bigfoot. I'm talking about just a
dead bigfoot someone finds and she saw one floating down the river from her hospital
room. I thought that was really interesting. I hope you guys enjoyed it.
I know I did. In the late nineteen sixties and continuing through most
of the seventies, there was a great influx of Haitian people into the Miami
area. A youth pastor was working missions in those community. His name was
Bob. The Haitian immigrants practiced a mixture of Catholicism and traditional Voodoo, so
the Baptist Church in South Miami sent missionaries into that community to evangelize. A
close bond formed between the groups. A young man in the Haitian neighborhood who
was involved in the outreach program had passed away. Bob went to the funeral
along with two others in their group. The service was unusual, with burning
incense and other rituals. Bob spoke the French creole language, but the people
were speaking too fast for him to keep up and fully understand. There was
a woman there who was dressed in white a funeral clothes. Bob knew her
as the boy's mother. She was inconsolable, crying and mourning the loss of
her son. There were men who tried to restrain her. Maybe they were
her brothers or even a husband, but they did no good in calming the
woman. The service was coming to an end, and the pastor walked back
to the casket to close the lid. The boy's mother, still wailing uncontrollably,
broke free from the men who surrounded her, and she rushed the casket,
screaming the boy's name. The crowd all stood up, and the pastor
and her family rushed in behind the mother and tried their best to pull her
away, but she could not let go of her son. Climbed onto the
casket and began screaming to her son, wake up, Wake up. The
men held on to her and tried to pull her from the platform, but
her grip on the casket was too firm. She began kicking and screaming at
those trying to help her, all the while asking her son to wake up.
In the scuffle, the casket fell from the platform, and down came
the mother, the casket and her son on the floor lay her and her
son halfway laying out of the box, which was now laying on its side.
The scene got very quiet, and everyone took a few steps back.
When the boy woke and reached for his mother's hand and spoke these words in
Creole, It's okay, Mama, I'm home now. The body of the
young man slacking then back into death. The mother fainted and went slack on
the floor. The crowd suddenly all ran from the building. The church was
empty except for Bob, the pastor, and a couple of male family members.
Bob and the other men turned the casket upright and reposition the corpse.
Bob then held the boy's wrist in check for a pulse, but the boy
was dead, cold dead. Bob left before the coffin was moved to the
grave site. No one could explain the event. Bob later told me that
these are just some of the things that we see in this line of work
with third world cultures. Here's another story Dave sent me last week, and
I thought this one was great. He says, this is about a resident
at a hospital where I worked. Mister Greene was a schizophrenic, and he
was medicated because of his condition. He was a harmless old man, and
most of the time he went about his life in a happy stupor. But
every now and then he would request paper and pencil, and he would write
pages of algebraic expressions or diagrams of some device so sophisticated that I had no
idea what they were. When he was finished, he would turn the papers
back into us, telling us to call the boys. We had to monitor
the paper closely. If we gave him five sheets, he had to return
all five sheets and the pencil. We were then to take those sheets without
reading them, and place them in a Manila folder and write mister Green on
the outside, and then put them in a lockbox. We were then to
call a phone number on his chart, instructing them that mister green had something
for them. Soon after the call, two men would show up and barter
with mister green for the package. The price was usually a trifle, a
box of Kfcat chicken, a milkshake, or a box of snack cakes.
When an agreement was reached and the transactions had been made. We opened the
lot box and gave them in the envelope and they were on their way.
These guys were all business, very serious operators. The question that would end
their time with us was always have you given us everything he wrote? I
once jokingly asked what did he draw this time with the cold look? Their
response was that is classified. Mister Green's health began to fail and we had
to transfer him to a geriatric unit, one that was more suited to his
needs. Now that mister Green was moving, we had to call the number
to inform whoever these men were about the move. That day, they arrived
and searched mister Green's room, looking for scraps of paper he might have picked
up or left behind. I guess they found something because they were not happy
when they left. I had a chance to look over mister Green's chart before
we transferred it over to the new ward. I found that when he was
first admitted, which was long before I went to work there, some of
the notes on expressed delusions stated that the patient believes the Department of Defense is
out to kill him. The patient believes he worked for lockeed Martin. The
patient believes he worked on UFOs. The list was quite extensive. We had
guys on that ward that believed they were Jesus Christ, some thought they were
the Devil, and everything in between. So mister Green's delusions were dismissed as
just that delusions, and pretty tame ones at that. But looking back now,
I have to wonder were they really delusions at all. I have a
buddy that I grew up with in my neighborhood. I moved to a neighborhood
when I was seven or eight. Of course, you meet all the kids
in the neighborhood and you play ball together, and you ride bikes all the
time. You stay out out till the street lights come on, or in
the summer you got to stay out till like ten o'clock. And I remember
when I first saw the Patterson Gimblin footage. We were at the Bristol Theater
on Summer Avenue in Memphis, Tennessee. I can't remember the movie we were
there to see. It may have been The Boggy Creek Monster, whatever the
name of that movie was, but the prequel to that, or the Teaser
or you know. They used to play cartoons in front of movies at the
drive in and they would play a cartoon or some little bit of footage before
the feature film. Before the movie started. There was a segment on the
Patterson Gimblin Patty, the Patty footage that didn't even get me necessarily interested in
Bigfoot, but I remember it, and you know, as kids, we
were ten or twelve years old, and that was that was the big talk
around the neighborhood all summer. You know how big hey man, he's real.
This friend of mine, I was talking to him about a month ago
and he said, I want to share with you a story that my grandmother
shared with me. I had no idea. We never talked about this.
Here we are pushing sixty and he reveals to me he knows a little bit
about Bigfoot, and he's given me permission to share this on the channel,
and I want to share it with you now. It's really a cool little
story. He writes. The other night, when after we talked, it
made me reminisce about stories I heard in my youth from my grandmother, who
was half Cherokee Indian. Her mother, my great grandmother, was full blooded
Cherokee, we think born in or around eighteen forty two. On the Tennessee
and North Carolina border and the area known as the Great Smoky Mountains. My
great grandmother married a white French trapper who had stumbled into the area in his
trapping adventures. I guess so I we'll get on with the story which has
been passed down from my youth but now has pretty much been set aside and
forgotten. In my great grandmother's youth, it was told that what we now
know and call as Bigfoot was another inhabitant of the wilderness of the Appalachian Mountain
area. According to my grandmother. Her mother said, the Native Cherokees call
them suel kaloo giesa ney live he roughly translated as the sloping giant brother.
It was told that these creatures stood almost twice as tall as humans, covered
in brownish coarse hair, with large shoulders, long bodies, large dark eyes,
and a sloping, almost conical head. It is said that these Bigfoot
lived and in ways associated with the indigenous Native Cherokee people of the Appalachian region.
The story told down from my great grandmother was that one evening, as
the fires were burning down, a soft moaning noise was heard from an area
not far from the tribal settlement. It was coming from near a large creek,
and several of the elder males took torches and began walking down a trail
towards the creek where the moaning noise was coming from. Supposedly a couple of
the women followed behind by several paces. Upon coming to the creek, everyone
stopped to listen for the noise again. After a few minutes, the moaning
was heard, and as the men walked up on the location, it was
then they realized the source of the moaning. It was an almost grown human
sized creature, but obviously a young, juvenile bigfoot. It had obviously been
separated from its mother, which to them was highly unusual, as with any
human or animal with young The Cherokee elders looked on holding their torches up,
lighting the area, as a couple of the women made their way down to
the men. It was said that the women instinctively knew something wasn't right about
the situation and convinced the men to allow them to bring the young bigfoot back
to their encampment. It was said the young bigfoot was obviously scared and lost,
almost like a human child lost from its mother. And the dark.
The women stayed up all night with the young bigfoot, giving it food and
drink. The story was that it stayed mostly in a coward posture and moaning
almost like the form of crying, most of the night, obviously wanting its
mother. The fires of the camp seemed to frighten the young creature, but
the women of the encampment did their best to comfort him during the night.
By morning, the young creature had fallen asleep for a short time and awoke
scared being surrounded by humans. The women again stepped into comfort the young creature,
which seemed to work. I'm guessing the nurturing of a mother transcends all
boundaries and species. Later in the day, after the cooking fires had been
lit, some young Cherokee children came running into the camp, saying that a
bigger creature like the young one, was following them from the creek. It
was then on the outside of the encampment a loud roaring was heard. It
was said that the verbalization of this larger creature sent shivers through every animal and
human in the near area. The larger creature entered into the outer brush surrounding
the camp, making its verbalizations The young creature began whimpering and stood to its
feet and ran into the brush to the larger one. They were seen by
all in the camp to embrace, similarly to human mother and child. Then
in the background, another even larger creature was seen, not making a sound,
but watching over the apparent mother and child and protecting them. A few
of the elders up and walked towards the creatures as men and hunters would,
but there are no signs of aggression displayed by either the creatures or the eldermen
of the tribe. There was nothing but silence as both the creatures and humans
looked upon each other. The creatures, as an apparent family group, turned
and walked back into the dense forest, and then silence covered the mountains.
After that time, there were numerous times that contact was made between the tribespeople
and these creatures throughout the mountain forests. Each time all passed as though friends,
would pass without having to say a word, but each knew that each
had the back of the other. This was supposedly how the creatures gained the
name Seouel Calloo se Guy knee live Heat the sloping giant brother. As I
said, I do not know if this story is true, but it was
handed down through my great grandmother to my grandmother and eventually to me. I
did do some research. In the name of these creatures has spoken by the
Cherokee Indians in the story, does actually translate the same as in the story
of my great grandmother. I give you permission to tell my great grandmother's story
because too many stories of yesterday year get lost in time, and I feel,
whether true or not, it is part of all of our history.
I guess thanks and God bless Signed Martin again, this is a good friend
of mine. I really appreciate him taking the time to actually write some memories
down from his grandmother. I don't know who the writer is of this email.
In other words, he doesn't give me his name, but that doesn't
matter because this is really, really a cool story, he writes. I
grew up hunting, fishing, and running tripelines, so it was only natural
that I get a job working for the California Fishing Game while I was in
college. Later, I spent two decades working for the US Forest Service.
One morning in September nineteen ninety three, while I was working for the Forestry
Service, I arrived at a small clear cut located in the middle fork of
Feather River at eleven thirty am. It was a wild and scenic spot above
the town of Oraville, California, and very remote. It had taken me
two hours to get there. It was the last of three small clear cuts
done on that ridge just before it dropped down to the scenic river. We
call those cuts Mountain Lion cuts, after a lion that had been seen there
several times. The last cut was nine acres that headed east up the slope.
At the bottom was a twenty foot circle of brush that had no trees
worth harvesting, so it had been spared. I crawled into the brush with
my lunch and decided to be quiet and hidden as I ate, so that
maybe I could see the lion come through. After twenty five minutes, nothing
had come by, and I was finished with lunch. As I was packing
up, I heard a large limb or a small tree snap a couple of
hundred yards across the clear cut. I thought it must be a range cow,
so I didn't even bother looking up. The clear cut had been replanted
in the spring. My job that day was to take twenty four foot plots
and count how many trees survived in every third plot. I walked out a
few yards into the clearing and poked my tape measure into the ground, pulled
out twelve feet and started making a circle, counting each tree within the circumference
as I did so. When I was done, I walked one hundred and
twenty paces maybe one hundred and ten yards to the lower section and completed the
second plot. And then I looked across and decided I could fit one more
plot along the bottom, so I took off, counting one hundred and twenty
paces. I was thirty yards from the brush on the opposite side when I
heard another large limb being snapped off a tree. This time it was done
close enough that it startled me, and I snapped my head up and looked
through the manzanita through a three foot hole in the brush. I saw a
leg, or a back of a leg anyway from the knee down. It
was forty yards away, the sun was shining on it. The sunlight lit
up the two inch long red hair that covered the leg. It was close
to the color of an orangutang's hair. The calf muscle was large and lean,
and I stared at it, thought to myself, how well this thing
was built. It took a couple of steps up the hill and I saw
the muscle flexing up and down in its leg. I stopped. Until that
moment, I hadn't thought much about whether or not they were real, but
just then I was thinking they do exist. I started walking up the hill
in a calm, no rushed manner that gave me time to observe it,
and at eighty yards away, I could see all the way up the left
leg, I could see the butt about halfway down the right leg. The
hair was all the same light colored red, and its butt was pronounced and
muscular. Seeing it from the waist down, I thought it was built very
much like a professional football player, larger and taller, but not by much.
At a hundred yards away, I got my first glimpse of the entire
backside of the creature, from the neck down. From the waist up,
it was massive. The shoulders were seven feet off the ground and five feet
across. Ahead of it was a dense, dark patch of tan oaks,
and it stepped into the trees and it was gone. I stood there,
fascinated by what had just happened. I did not take a step during this
entire encounter. I just stood there in amazement. Above this dark patch of
tan oaks stood a single tree that was six inches in circumference. It was
cut off and bent one hundred and eighty degrees at six feet off the ground.
The creature stepped out of the oak patch and put its left arm on
that tree, and as it leaned in, the tree dropped seven more inches.
It turned its head and it looked at me. Now I could see
the left part of the body in a little bit of its head. The
only feature I could see was that it was not covered in long red hair
like the rest of the body. It was too far away now to make
much else out, and I noticed there was no hair at the elbow of
the left arm either. It looked as if it had been scraped or worn
off, and the skin was dark black. I don't know how long this
lasted, It was long enough that I wondered how the creature was such red
hair could have such dark skin. We stood there, staring at each each
other for a bit, and then it straightened up and turned and took two
steps before it was gone. I did not see it or hear it again.
In fact, I never heard it except for the two times it broke
large limbs or small trees. I never felt fear or anxiety. It was
never aggressive toward me, nor seemed threatening in any way. I didn't smell
any odor, and sadly, I never got to see the front of the
creature or its entire head. I don't know its sex or anything about its
facial features except for the lack of hair, but I do know it was
very curious. It wanted to observe me as much as I wanted to observe
it. I no longer work for the Forestry Service, but I wish I
could have another encounter, and as an employee of the US Forestry Service,
I did not share this story with anyone other than a few family members until
two thousand and twelve, when I finally went online to the f R and
submitted my first report. Since then, I've done some of my own research
and watched what I could. I've met a few others willing to speak about
their encounters, and I'm more than happy to meet and speak with anyone who
has had an encounter. I believe there was more than one that day.
As I sat hidden in that brush putting my lunch away, it broke a
large lamb or tree. I was over two hundred and forty yards away.
I don't believe it was just telling me that it was there. I think
it was also telling the others that I was there. Fantastic story to the
writer. Again, I don't know the man's name. I think I know
because of his email address, but I'm not going to share it because he
didn't really say anything about it. But this is these guys in the Forestry
Service or in a position and in locations to see these things, not just
these things, but all the things that go on in the forest, and
they're used to it. They know it. They're very absurd. They know
what's out of place, they know what's in place, they know what's usual,
they know what's odd. If you spend any time in the woods,
even you don't have to be a forestry Service employee to learn these things.
Just go in the woods and be quiet. Like I know, this is
probably a little too much commentary, but there are a lot of images out
on social media Facebook and Twitter and Instagram of blurry things in the background of
a forest. And have you ever sat in the woods for just sit there
for three hours and don't move, just sit there and relax and kind of
focus in on one area of the woods. And if you do that,
you'll notice that the light has a lot to do with what you see,
and the earth is spinning and the sun is shining light at different angles,
and every ten or fifteen minute, it's that spot you're looking at will look
totally different, and your mind can make out shapes and all kinds of things
in that background as light penetrates through the forest and shines on things that are
that are behind what you're looking at. And these guys know these things.
I mean, I began to notice that deer hunting many years ago. I'm
not a big deer hunter. A matter of fact, I don't really even
go to kill. I don't really like killing deer. I have killed several,
but not many, and I've never glad. I did kill one buck,
anyway, it's another big deal. I'm just not that interested in killing
deer. But I love to be in the woods and just watch and look
at all the wildlife, and the deer is just icing on the cake.
It's great meat. It's good clean nutrition for me and my family and my
friends. And but The big thrill is to sit there and just watch what
goes on. And you're seeing what happens in the woods when you're not there,
because if you're quiet, you don't make any noise, and you just,
you know, just minimize your presence in the woods. It goes right
back to normal within about fifteen or twenty minutes, and you get to see
what happens when you're not there. It's an amazing thing. Listen and look
and smell, and you get to see all the things that ninety nine percent
of the people on this planet do not get to see. So I don't
know why I got off in that, but it kind of I know some
of these forestry guys and these timber cruisers and people that work for timber companies,
and they know the woods. They know what's natural, they know what's
not. They're very observant, and they can tell you right away that's kind
of weird over there, and this is what happened here, and this is
what happened here. Anyway, it's just an interesting it's an interesting topic.
I've always thought was fascinating. But me, I'm a people watcher, and
I notice what people say and do and why they say and do what they
do, and it's always been really interesting to me. Thank you to the
writer for sending this. I really appreciate it, and I believe the story
one hundred percent believe this story.