Then when what are your putting? I got a screen going on here something
just because my dog. Something killed your dog? My dog. We're flying
through the or over the trade. I don't know how it did it,
okay, damn, and I'm really confused. All as I saw was my
dog coming over the fence, and he was did when you hit the girl?
I didn't see any car And alls I saw was my dog coming over
the fence. Damn. Why what are you're putting? We got some wonder
or something crawling around out here? Did you see what it was? It
was standing up. I'm out here looking through the window now and I don't
see anything. I don't want to go outside. Jesus, point you by
hello, get the body out here. Foot on the out there. It's
thought of a bitch about six foot nine. I don't all easy and out
there yet. I'm walking right out. Oh. A report in Cryptozoology News
stated a woman in Ohio claims that a group of bigfoot visited her and her
family starting in nineteen sixty two, keeping her captive in a cave at the
age of twelve. The fifty five year old provided a full name, but
asked to remain anonymous and to not reveal the isolated location where the incidents occurred.
I prefer not to say where this took place. No one wants an
invasion of bigfoot hunters on private lands. Let people go to the public lands
of the Wayne National Forest to look for bigfoot. People down in the hills
love living where they live because it's quiet, there's fresh air, clean water,
great conditions for raising gardens and children, and being in the thick of
nature. To see the wild animals up close as something they all value very
much. I'd rather that people work harder on gathering the mountain of eyewitness reports
and experiences that's been hidden in the past decades in this state than to see
them destroying nature, she told Cryptozoology News. She says she worked in the
service industry for the past decade and that she was very active in volunteer work
at schools in the area. Reportedly, she wasn't the only one experiencing the
encounters. They were witnessed in part by my parents. People do need to
know that these things happened to me. It still pains me greatly, but
at least I can talk about it, though without anyone knowing who I am.
People are absolutely cruel. She also said that the incidents happened too many
times to keep counting them, and that some of the neighbors had similar experiences,
including some young boys fishing by the river. These events were allegedly reported
to the police. One time, she says, the huge one came back
to take her, and her dad shot it with a twelve gauge. The
big one that had always come to take me out of my bedroom at night
came this time during the daytime. Dad was about fifteen feet from it.
The shot was hitting this thing, and every time it hit he'd stop really
hard on the ground with one foot after the other. My brothers and I
ran up to my bedroom because the youngest said it was higher ground for a
better defense, and were more over in the farmer's drainage ditch across the road.
What do you do as a kid of say, fourteen, and you
see something like that good thing. My three brothers were there with me to
help protect me. I yelled to them to leave or they would be hurt.
My brothers wanted to go check on the neighbors to see if they were
okay or needed help. The ditch with the beasts were purportedly hiding was across
the road from the neighbor's front picture window. I can only imagine their horror
at seeing what they were seeing, wondering if they were going to die.
According to the witness, most of the neighbors children were hiding in the closet
while the parents were out in the living room keeping an eye on that ditch.
She claims the animals were of different sizes, male and female, but
that the biggest one was a fourteen foot tall male with the head the size
of irregulation basketball. His hair was long and about the same texture as mine,
as I recall, the hair on all of them was about the same
shade of brown, like the color of the decomposed wood layer in the forest.
I could see skin around his eyes that was tan looking, and where
there was facial hair, it was more sparse, with glimpses of skin showing
through that area as well. I couldn't make out a neck. His chin
was broad. His teeth were about the size of the nail on my middle
finger, but they were more flat, and he had a mouthful of them,
meaning the width of his bite was wide. His eyes were dark,
with some white around them, lesser than human eyes. They were kind with
crow's feet at the outer edge of them. His skin was withered, like
anyone who spent much time outside, like a farmer. His shoulders were very
broad, though I did see his collar bone on one side, which looked
thick compared to a humans. He was muscular and heavily built, but in
no way fat. There was an adult female and others who were almost as
big as the female, but didn't seem to be young or old. I
don't know if they were all related, but they seemed like a close knit
group. So there was the adult male and female who seemed to be a
couple, and the two others that seemed to have maturity and body mass suggestive
that they were what we'd consider forty something humans. Other than that, I
couldn't tell what age any of them were. Then the horrific kidnappings began.
Many of my memories of these creatures were so traumatic that my mind hid them
from me. I've no idea what else I've experienced with them in my childhood.
Yet you see, the memories are still popping up to the surface,
and I've got to tell you it's not a pleasant thing to know. You've
been taken innumerable times by these creatures across many hills far from your home.
I've no idea what transpired while I was with them, but each time they
took me, I was out all night long, she explains. Due to
the stress, the young girl tried to sleep during the days, but her
mother wasn't happy about this. I was being used in a tug of war,
and neither side was winning. Certain people at nearby churches were told what
was going on, so they'd take me aside and annoint me with oil and
lay hands on me, praying out loud, and all I wanted to do
was lay down and go to sleep. From that circus, I was confined
to the house for weeks, not being allowed to look out any windows.
Sometimes things were peaceful, but occasionally the creatures became violent. I was probably
around twelve when I woke up underground in a cave that was dripping water from
roots I could see stretching below the ground. You can't imagine the horror.
I was screaming my lungs out, and after a while I ran out of
force to make any sounds, but the air kept coming out of me.
I could see these creatures surrounding me as I lay there, unable to move
on this great side of rock. I wanted badly to scream some more,
but I was just too tired to do that anymore. When I relaxed,
they all started smiling and laughing. I thought, okay, they could have
killed me and eaten me, but they didn't. Evidently some of them are
kind. But then again, I've seen Cat's play with mice for hours before
they kill and eat them. Could have this been a product of her imagination?
She says no, she remembers everything clearly, and so there's her family.
These were clearly not childhood nightmares, as evidenced by the incident that took
place around the time I was twelve or thirteen. That Big Harry Mail was
in the field across the road from our house, about fifteen to twenty feet
in and Dad was standing in our front yard shooting at him. What got
my notice was this pounding like a pile driver used for drilling, but there
was no metal sound, so I yelled to anyone who was downstairs. I
asked, who the heck we knew that could hold a scream for that long.
I recognized the shooting and asked who was shooting too? Mom asked me
questions each time the big big foot came back to my window and took me
with him. He took me with him many many times. After talking to
me to get me to tell the big guy not to take me with him,
and that they told me to tell him no, I wasn't going,
and that not seeming to work, she pretty much gave up asking me anything.
She did talk to Dad about how to stop this from happening. That
she thought it was affecting my health and robbing us all of our sleep.
It was the concern that if they did the wrong thing, this creature could
kill everyone in the house. Mom often wept to my older sisters about this
big hairy thing that got into the chicken coop and how she needed their help
to convince Dad to do something to stop this before someone got her. She
told them not to go near me and told me not to go near them.
She was quite fearful, and in retrospect, I can't blame her Dad
for his part. Over the years, at times would ask me if I
thought my big hairy friend was around anywhere. Then the family decided to move
her bed downstairs, but this appeared to infuriate the beast even more. I
remember hearing him pecking at my window upstairs, but I was strictly forbidden from
leaving the area for any reason. He's banged on the side of the house
and Dad would yell at him to go away, that he wasn't going to
see me anymore, and that was that he made these loud grunts and stomping
on the ground to show his displeasure. I'd hear his thoughts in my head,
as if he was asking where I was. Another time, she and
her father were driving near the woods when they heard a strange screen. I
was nineteen. We were on his front stoop talking before I left, when
there was this very loud, deep scream like a man was getting murdered up
the road in the woods. Sam did carry, especially on cold nights,
but this has excessive volume to it, and no one human could have ever
held a full unscream that long. I thought someone was being hurt up there,
and he refused to call the Sheriff's office to report it. I thought
my dad had lost it, but she says she called the authorities as soon
as she got home. The things they said really made me wonder if they
were scared of the woods, why would they deputies. I asked if they
couldn't look for vehicle tracks or bootprints, and they finally said they'd go down
there the next day to check. They appreciated that I described the place and
it helped them feel more at ease. They kept saying the station policy was
not to go into the woods for any reason. The animals also appeared to
be able to communicate by using vocal sounds and telepathically. The sounds they made
were a deep bass, laughing, snickering, and sounds like someone who couldn't
pronounce words well. They communicated with these with each other and with their thoughts,
just as the male did with me. I had no interaction from the
younger ones, and the female adult only smiled or sighed heavily while looking at
me. She talked with the younger ones and the big male about me.
They used their hands to motion, much like when we play charades. The
neighbors and other kids at school also spoke of strange occurrences and the dangers of
being stigmatized for telling their stories. We weren't talking about our experiences with them.
There were no bigfoot or sasquatch, but they were called monsters, etc.
We listened to what other neighbors would tell us about them because they thought
no one was likely to believe kids that heard it and passed it on.
The neighbors next door never spoke about their experience after the day had happened.
The others were not home when it took place, except the old lady living
on the farm up next to the hill across the valley. So those who
had experiences were being judged and laughed at by some who did not. The
woman says that she decided to tell her story because she feels that it would
help others come forward. So many times I've read authors saying that they wish
those who knew would share what they know with the world. Well, that's
why I've shared this. Talking about these things has not been easy. For
the most part. The trauma associated with these things did cause what's called traumatic
childhood amnesia. I hope it brings awareness to the suffering of experiencers and witnesses
and allows them to speak openly about what has happened to them. Unless we
all speak the truth, the world won't know what's been hidden and still being
hidden from us. Do we want future generations to carry on living the same
line. Our world is richer and more interesting than most people could ever imagine.
These are not just creatures. They are quite intelligent and resourceful enough to
keep from being caught or killed. The following article was printed in The Evening
Sun and Hanover, Pennsylvania, on October thirty one, twenty eleven. The
stream gurgle fades with the waning afternoon light. As you press deeper into the
woods, a muddy shore gives way to thick grass heavy with rain. The
path narrows, branches grasp and pull. Something moves in. You turn with
a start. A squirrel bounds away through the brush. If it's march or
we're not having this conversation. You're not wide eyed and alone and half lost
in a maze of trees and undergrowth. But this is the season for ghouls,
and for legends. It's the time of year editors send reporters out to
the wild in search of fleeting phantoms. Thus the mothman creature that reportedly lurks
in the rural Adams County woods. So how did it come to this?
Here's the story. It's nineteen eighty eight and a man living in the Baltimore
area is set to meet an old friend from Adams County at a Boy Scout
conference. The old friend mentions to the man that Scout troops on overnight trips
at Camp can Weigo have recently been packing up their tents early, leaving the
grounds in a rush of spinning tires. They've been waking in the night to
the sound of shrill crying out among the trees. Strickler, who had some
experience and paranormal research, was intrigued if he agreed to accompany his friend and
another man to investigate for a night. The group met at the boy Scout
camp off Dick's Dam Road north of Cross Keys on a Friday night at around
seven pm. They walked from the empty cabins about five hundred yards into the
woods and then following the Comwego Creek another three hundred yards upstream, pitched their
tents there along the shore. The top was of sports and childhood camping trips,
and night passed without incident. There was little mention of the something they
thought could be out in the woods, but still, Strickler would say later
it felt as if he were being watched. The following morning, the three
men explored the area for most of the day, Arriving back at camp again
in the early evening. Conversation again covered football and food, the hours blurring
and fading with a crackling camp fire, then from somewhere in the shadows,
a screaming baby, an owl, a bobcat. But the three knew the
local woods and the animals, this was something different, So the group grabbed
stowed gear and crept away from the dying fire. Out into the night.
They searched for signs of tracks or disturbance, squinting to pick up movement among
the trees, scanning the shadows. Under slivered moon, water murmured in the
creek bed breath streamed out, and bursts of silence white against the night.
Strickler stopped. Standing in the creek was a large, dark figure. It
was tall as a man and stood upright and an eye blink. The creature
leapt from the creek with a dizzying burst of wind and water, melting away
into the sky. Its screen echoed over barren branches. That was more than
twenty years ago, Strickler said, recently, and he can still see those
eyes, and others have seen it in those woods. Stories of sightings have
come in from people. He's never met, and they still trickle in today.
It's become known as the Canwego Phantom. For all the build up and
the obvious ghost story selling points, few around the area had ever heard of
the beast. Trips down forgotten stone lanes yielded only empty stairs. So as
the late day sun melts to twilight, there's little left to do but find
that deserted boy scout camp. Behind an iron gate lays a wide empty field
with a slow hill running to a line of wooden cabins. The cabins huddle
close and backed by dense woods, are dark and boarded a long scratch and
a split board. There then movement at the top of the stone drive.
A blue pickup rolls into view. Inside a man with hat pulled low in
a wide, dark mustache. He kills the engine, but the woods are
somehow louder. Now bird's on dripping down from the trees. He jerks his
head, beckoning, I hear you're looking for Old Red Eye, the man
says, as you struggle your way across the loose stone. Kids at this
camp been talking about him for years. There's something they're afraid of out in
those woods. He stares off into the shadows, and while you can't see
up into the pickup, you notice the gun rack behind his head. You
notice it's empty, and your eye goes to the black tarp behind him,
and he turns back, catches you're looking, and a hungry smile forms under
that mustache. As he reaches down with his right hand. The grey sky
seems to sagg in on itself, and your skin goes cold. I imagine
that's all just kids stories. And he takes a drink of the soda in
his hand. The truck rumbles and lurches to life again, tires grinding into
the stone. But even those who don't believe those tree branch fingers clawing at
your window, that cold breath of wind creeping through the door. This month
we look twice over our shoulder. Russian Hominologist in Tennessee by Eagle Berts if
Bigfoot at the Carter Farm. We made acquaintance with these books and had correspondents
for two years with Mary Green and Janice Carter and other researchers concerning the Tennessee
experiences with the Bigfoot hominens. Finally, we decided to visit this country to
learn more about the conditions and the activities here to cooperate in this research and
to exchange the experiences. It was also very important to receive some additional materials
and preparing for a future book publication of these Tennessee experiences. That is why
I have come here from Moscow for four weeks. Later, the events pushed
me to prolong my visit up to five weeks. Three weeks of this visit,
I lived at the Carter's farm, which is reported to be inhabited by
family of Bigfoot, which consisted of a large male named Fox sixty years old
with some of his children and grandchildren. Fox supposedly still uses the basement of
the old farm house to shelter during bad weather and to sleep in. He
also takes food from buckets and bags prepared for him. I understood that it
was next necessary for the Bigfoot to have time to warm up to me.
It is known from experience when other people come to the farm, the Bigfoot
stopped their activities, but after several days they become used to their presence.
At first, it was about ten days when there were no signs of their
presence at the farm. I used this time to make acquaintance with those places
where meetings have appeared before during the three decades of Janice's experiences and her encounters
with these creatures. Janice has showed me the place where she had the first
such meeting with Fox. It happened when she was seven years old. The
places where Fox and his family were fed by her grandfather, Robert Carter,
who interacted with them even before Janice in other places. After I photographed the
places of the encounters and examined a blanket in the basement that contained hairs from
Fox. I also photographed twisted trees that had to be done by somebody with
tremendous strong hands. I also found structures called tree markers the big Foot have
made from tree limbs and saplings. I spoke to the neighbors and received confirmation
of their existence on and around the Carter farm. Some of the neighbors even
said that they participate in feeding them in general. I have confirmed with Baynard
that our previous opinion that this is a real story that was documented in the
book Fifty Years with Bigfoot, as well as in the letters written by jan
S and Mary during my visit. I have continued to hope to obtain new
evidence of their appearance at the Carter Farm at one thirty am September twelfth,
two thousand and four, the dogs were barking and we went to look around
and nothing was seen. But the next morning, the twelfth of September,
Janice's sister, who lives in a trailer situated some fifty meters away from the
farmhouse, came to us early and said that approximately the same time, somebody
had walked around her trailer, coughing several times and at one point knocked softly
on the wall of her trailer. Leela was sitting and reading a book while
her three children were sleeping at the time of this occurrence. On the thirteenth
of September. After visiting Mary Green that day, me and Janice came back
to the farm by car. About midnight. Again, Leela met us and
said that just now somebody walked around her trailer, and when we stopped the
car, whomever or whatever it had disappeared. On the fourteenth of September,
during the observation of the basement, Janice and I found that an armchair had
been moved about two feet from where it had been positioned in the days before.
It looked like a visitor wanted to broaden his place for having a rest.
Also, a necklace made from metal with a spider charm appeared on the
blanket that was on the back of the armchair. This necklace had not been
seen before by Janice, and previous absence of the necklace was undoubtedly confirmed with
the occasional photograph of the chair made before. Also during the same observations,
we noticed that the plastic bag of food hanging there on a metal water pipe
under the ceiling of the basement had been replaced along the pipe closer to the
wall. It was moved more than two feet along the pipe. Before leaving
the basement, we moved the bag of food back to the original placement.
On the sixteenth of September, something else occurred. It rained heavily for most
of the day, so Janie and I visited Janice's friends home to work on
her computer. Janice's phone and computer were both having issues, so we took
the opportunity to use her friends to do some research. We made it back
to the house around midnight and we're both pretty stressed out because Janis had to
drive many miles and the pouring rain without windshield wipers. They had stopped working
fairly early in the day. I asked Janis to go with me to the
basement to check to see if any of the creatures were there, but she
did not want to go with me because she was very tired and still stressed
after our long drive. The next morning, when I woke up, I
went straight to the basement. I found that the blanket was back on the
floor and the bag once again was moved down the wall the same distance as
before. It looked like he was playing with us. After these events,
it was apparent that somebody had visited the basement. I worked for the next
two days to soften the extremely hard and packed soil around the inside of the
basement. I wanted to create the ideal conditions to obtain possible footprints of anyone
entering the basement. Afterwards, I asked Janis's friend Tom to keep the soil
wet because if it dried, it would be next to impossible to collect any
impressions. I asked them to make plaster casts if any footprints appeared. Afterwards,
I left to make a pre planned trip to visit Mary in another county.
During my visit with Mary, from September nineteenth until the twenty third,
I went with several Tennessee researchers in Overton County, an area that was home
to many big foot sidings over the years. The place was called standing Stone
State Forest, and we visited a place where a calf had been found that
had been purportedly killed by a big foot. We did most of our research
late at night, and we heard many screams and whistles. It even appeared
at times that we could hear names coming from the dark woods around us.
I was astonished that the very first night we were having activity, we did
hear some answering screams when Sherry Mayland did some calls, and we did hear
Return Knox after Wayne Murphy used a club to hit some trees. The next
day, I photographed a footprint that the group had found in the area of
the previous weekend. Mary showed me the location where a calf was found dead.
There were several large human lake footprints near where the calf was found.
I also photographed some wooden structures that Mary called markers. I compared these markers
with those found in my home country in the Kirov region. The structures here
are very similar to those I have seen back home. I met with rangers
in that state forest, one named Sean Hughes, and I asked him who
could have made the wooden structures. He said that he had no idea.
I asked if people would do this, and he said no. After my
experiences over those several days and nights, I came to the conclusion that it
was highly probable that there were big foot in the area. I came back
to the Carter farm late in the evening of September twenty third. I made
my way to check the basement, but there was no sign that anyone or
anything had been there. The next morning, the television crew from the National
Geographic Channel, led by Noeldsteader, came to shoot an interview with me and
Janice. The interview took several days, and at one point during the filming,
Janice's sister Leela, went to check the basement and she claimed to see
footprints. The footprints were very specific, and I recognized them as the prints
of a young bigfoot that Janice called Squeaky. His right footprint was across the
direction of movement and there were two bulbs on the outer edge of the foot.
Janice had shared during her interview with the television crew the day before that
Squeaky had damaged his right leg. At some point, I called for the
crew and they filmed the footprints. When Janis arrived, she confirmed that the
footprints belonged to Squeaky. She told us that Squeaky is about five years old
and that he is the adopted son of Nicki, who was Fox's fifteen year
old daughter. Janis went on to say that Squeaky is only around five feet
tall, which explained why his foot is rather small, measuring around eleven inches
long. We did make a plaster cast from the best of the footprints.
The footprints showed up on the same day that I was scheduled to leave for
Washington, but given these new developments, there was no way I could leave
now, so I made arrangements to postpone my departure for one more week.
That next week proved to be eventful. In the days that followed the discovery
of the footprints in the basement, we also found what appeared to be a
three room shelter in the trees in a far corner of the farm land.
It was marked with a broken plant marker. We also found quite a bit
of what we believe maybe bigfoot hair in that shelter. It was stuck in
the broken twigs of a fir tree that seemed to be bent by the big
foot and placed along the ground. Later, Janis sorted those hairs into colors,
and she said that based on the color of the hair, she knew
that they belonged to the various individual bigfoot that she had interacted with over the
years. We also found another very interesting artifact. There was a clay ball
with a bunch of hair on it. Some of those hairs looked as though
they had been positioned to resemble the tail of some sort of animal. Although
it is pure speculation, I believe it may be some kind of a toy
for a baby Bigfoot. As far as the case of the Carter Farm,
I think that it should be investigated further, but with the assistance of the
state or scientific establishments. Equipment and financial assistance is necessary. I also believe
that it should be set up as a state wildlife reserve to protect the creatures
that still live there. It could become quite the scientific laboratory. After thirty
years, Janice became very knowledgeable about these creatures and has become an expert on
them. I believe it is necessary to somehow support her efforts of understanding these
creatures on that land. This is a unique case of the cooperation of the
bigfoot with humans. It's necessary not to lose this contact in this cooperation.
If the needed attention is not paid to this case, I believe that we
will lose a unique opportunity to make contact with these creatures and study them in
their natural conditions. I did not meet Fox or any of the other creatures
here, but I certainly felt their warm attitude towards me, and I feel
the warmth of their hearts. I have also felt the same from all of
the bigfoot researchers here to whom I've met. I will take this warmth with
me back to my country. I intend to come here again with more supplies
to continue the approach to Bigfoot. They say you don't gotta go home,
but you just say I don't want to. We're all out trying to try
and try everything. Call it by right, baby, my joy for me
joy, stay right, you call it right away yet come talbot, talbotsssssssssss.