Well, those flags. Shirt has taken a beaten, hasn't it. Almost
wonder if this thing should be hung upside down right now of what's going on
in my country, I felt. I fished all day. I got up
to five, and I literally fished non stop until I got up five,
got fuel, droving over an hour and back to bed. Went to one
spot kind of sucked. I went up another spot where the falls are kind
a couple of shoat how to steel head on, didn't stop once, didn't
sit I once. I'm feeling pretty done. It's three thirty and I was
I would have stopped and got some shares up, but I spent basically my
whole day at the waterfalls there, and they're just way too loud for the
camera. So I'm here, I'm stopping. I'm just starting to leave,
but I'm I don't know about sixty five clowns from home. I knows a
hurt elk down there behind me somewhere, so it we'll see if they come
up. What else did I do? It's funny. Notice every time I
go out in the woods, you always come across for somebody chopped firewood,
and they never take it all. I used to say to myself, why
haven't you going looked for firewood? I could just freaking drive round and toss
the leftovers incase somebody left three four four mature bone dry for rounds on the
ground right over there. It was all I could do. I used to
go out reckon split my draining half. I think getting these suckers in the
chocolate show you a big there. I got him in. I wasn't leave
without me. I've on a couple of bonus cedar rounds too. These things
were freaking heavy. Watch that one. But I put one of the smaller
ones on the ground and I flipped that one on top of the first,
and then I started building up the bottom, putting bark underneath, rocking back
and forth and building high and high until I get the edge on the box.
I lift it up and threw it in. It doesn't look like it,
but all that's a pile of deadly firewood. Could live score. Yeah,
I guess voice is heard from right here with my broken flag. It's
a broken country. Huh. Quick message to all you law enforcement military out
there that falls chiel. I know there's a bunch of you. You've emailed
me in the past. I understand the majority of you or terrified losing a
paycheck. I'll tell you what. Can you imagine what the grandparents you're thinking
right now? After the display yesterday in Canada, in the past couple of
weeks, can you imagine many many police officers were voicing it support, reminding
the country that they took an oath to our whipholder. I'll polled our Charter
of rights, which they didn't majority of them didn't. Failed. Is that
brutal? They failed? They failed. They took an oath and they failed.
As basically makes you the poster person of a loser. I guess you
gotta be in a fight to be a winner. Loser though, right,
gott to be in the fight. It's pretty pretty nasty it's going on.
Man, this is pretty It's a pretty sad state of affairs. I'm wonder,
I wonder how many of you in law enforcement have seen you know,
you see the goons squads in the past regimes in third world countries, North
Korea, Nazi Germany, wherever, and I'll bet not one of you ever
dreamt you would be in the position of one of those goons in your lifetime,
and you took that oath, whether you're Canadian or American, or Australian
or from New Zealand, all your law enforcement officers, you military people that
took those or those oaths, I couldn't only imagine how how frustrating that must
be to know that you are one of those third world goons being used as
a political weapon against your own people, even if you think what you're doing
is wrong, and you still do it. I couldn't imagine what that's like.
Go home and looking at your kids. Are your parents, your grandparents,
people who grew up with Pepa, played hockey with, people you went
and hung out with, the party with, and had fun with, and
grew up with and went to school with. Imagine imagine what that must feel
like. I couldn't imagine. I've been out, I haven't been on the
liner in service all day long. Who knows what went down today? I
would imagine by the time I get home, I will have found out that
the dictatorship goon squad put the fences up around the people. The people.
We were standing up for the freedom and the rights, the Charter rights,
Kane, Charter rights, and I will bet you did all those men and
women who used to be Canadian kids. I'll bet you they went in there
and arrested all those innocent, hard working, honest people today. That's my
guess. Never give up, never give up. We just regrouped. Old
Dave my brain doing circles all day long. I went out no matter.
It wasn't too easy to get up this morning. It's big with bugging me.
But I'll tell you what, when you're out here, you don't even
know what you're sick. So let's see what do we got. Well,
it's titled Steve in caps Lock. This is gonna be a long email.
My name is Craig Richardson. You can feel free to use it. A
man. Let's get into it. Some deals with a sighting by myself,
my brother and our friend John. I lived in the suburb of Manassas,
Virginia. The year was nineteen seventy three and I was sixteen years old.
One day I decided to ride my bike about six miles from my home in
the bull Run trailer to a creek named Little Rock and Run. To get
there, I traveled four miles on paved roads, two miles on old Route
twenty eight to the intersection of the main Route twenty eight and headed north about
a mile to where a major power line cross, and then the road onto
the power line to the east until I reached the creek. Never been there.
I was exploring. Found a long, smooth run about one hundred yards
into the woods on the left north of the power line. Water was crystal
clear. You could see the fish everywhere caused small milk bass, small rainbow
trout, large sunfish, some big red eyes rock bass. Went home and
showed my brother and friend well. We all aged to go back the next
day, probably eight. To go back the next day we did. However,
upon arrival to the aforementioned smooth run, there was not a fish to
be seen. The woods were silent and felt weird. We started a fish
anyway. While we were beating up, a rock the size of a softball
came whizzing by so fast you could hear it coming. It hit the water
with such force that water sprayed for twenty yards in all directions. We could
hear something in the thick brush behind us. We all got spooked and ran
to where we left our bikes. We had to cross the stream to get
to them, and the hill we had to ascend was way too steep.
To ride up, so we had to run while pushing the bikes. About
a half mile up. We were all winded stopped. That's when John said,
look, and we all looked back down to the creek. They're on
the edge of the woods where we had been fishing. Was what I would
describe as a tall, hairy man, dark brown hair covering the entire body.
Please note that we were at least three hundred yards away, so no
real details except he looked at us for maybe ten seconds, and then he
just walked across the powerline two hundred yards wide, so we all got a
good look. When we were safe and back at the highway Route twenty eight,
we all agreed to not say anything to anyone about what happened. That's
always the unfortunate part of the stories for me. We arrived back at home.
When into John's house, his mom was in the kitchen. As soon
as she saw us, she said, what happened? We said nothing?
Why? She said, bullshit, you're all white as a ghost. We
never did tell anyone. Part two. I'm now living in some point West
Virginia. My brother Read had come home after school and walk in the house.
Our mother is sitting in her spot on the couch as usual, but
she is white as a ghost. We say hey, Mom, and there's
no response. I tell my brother to call the rescue squad, announce,
and then tell him no way. She's alive, but I'm responsive. She
can move her eyes, but it seems to be full of fear. After
about fifteen minutes, she starts to battle. Another fifteen minutes and she can
talk coherently. She tells us I was sitting here watch the TV. In
the front door opened and something walked in invisible. He'd come up to her
and asked where the oil was She set up and I've been eating peanuts.
She said that she could not move or fight, and that the thing probed
every orifice of her body, including her personal regions. Now about an hour's
gone by, and she says, Craig, it sounded like they ransacked your
bedroom. You should go check it out. I did. The only thing
I found was my bank book sitting on my table by my window, and
it was missing a hundred dollar bill that I had tucked inside it. Well,
my window was covered by paper curtains that were hard to keep shut,
so I always pinned them. Shot with Scottie Doll Bank, Scottie Doll Bank.
There must have been a piggy anyway, it was full of coins.
However, for the last few days, the curtains would be wide open.
When I woke up, I could not make any sense of it. I
told my brother that I felt like I was being called to go into the
apple orchard across the street. I just went. It really got weird.
I went back out to the living room, where my mother and brother were
still talking, and told them about the bank book and missing money. My
mother said, look, boys, whatever it is, it did not harm
me. She gave it a name. I forget the name. My brother
said, I don't care if it apps with me, I will kill it,
And right then the entire trailer started to shake, and the most evil
sounding roar, slash scream you've ever heard enveloped the entire house. My mother
begged my brother to shut up, and he did. Part three. It's
now dove seasoned me. My buddy, Donny, don't mention his name.
He's a blah blah blah blah Blakkay. He'll never admit to what he and
I witnessed. Left my house with our shotguns to go shoot some doves in
the apple or across the road from my house. He's walking on my right.
As we walked down between the rows of apple trees, and as we
were walking, I know it's a big opening in the tree. To my
left, it looked like the lowest branch, four feet off the ground,
was under a lot of pressure. I told my friend to stop, showed
it to him. He said it was just the weight of the apples.
I said no, My sixth sense was on point, no fear, but
I knew something was wrong. I pointed my gun at the opening, and
all of a sudden, the branch flew up as something leaped off of it
and hit the ground running. You could see the footsteps in the fallen leaves.
This does not adequately account for everything that happened that fall at apples flying
off the trees at me like they were thrown from a baseball pitcher that fast,
but not everyone hit me. Then one night, all the dogs are
barking and growling with that fear growl. I went out of the spotlight shotguns,
shine the light on the dog pans. We raised beagles and trained it
for sale, and all the dogs were up on the fence wire and looking
up into the sky. I looked up and saw a round craft with dimly
lit windows, only four I think, and I shined my light on it.
The dim light behind the windows went out, and it slowly moved away
over the woods. The dogs calmed down and I went back inside. I
told my brother and my mom that the dogs were barking out a couple of
raccoons. Please note this all happened long before the Predator movie. This followed
me for twenty years and did shit just to app with me. Example,
I packed my lunch to work every day. I put my brown paper lunch
bag under my favorite hat down on the pasture side floor board of the car,
out of the direct sun. Come out to get my lunch, and
two sandwiches, chips or whatever snack would balanced vertically on top of the other,
with hat balanced on top of them. Impossible. You'd think that even
it could be done. You would think that, even if it could be
done, that it would fall fall down when you open the car door.
Not so as soon as you touch any of it, it would all fall
down. It's a crazy, freaking email, man. I know it's a
lot to take in, but there is more they have I think came through
the trees just a glimmer in nineteen eighty and sat down beside megeing on a
very large dead log I was sitting on while bull hunting. I had my
bow on the tops of my thighs it sat down on my right side.
I had a tennis buck knife on my left hip, and I thought,
grab it with my right hand and just cross stab it to my right,
stabbing the belly or whatever. As soon as I had the thought, it
said to me in English, don't even think about it. I could have
killed you anytime I wanted. You're no challenge, and it left. I
help this, help someone else. Not be afraid. I'm still hunting fish
anywhere I want. That's when I held an email, and I would imagine
there's gonna be people shaking her head, going yeah, right right, I
know I'm right. But how many people have seen the shimmering light? How
many people have pre heard something writing, seeing the footprints, seeing the bush
moving? You haven't seen anything? How many seen that glimmering thing chasing elk?
How many people seeing crazy shit in the sky? Thousands, right,
thousands? One thing I can tell you that I wasn't there and I'll bet
you if somebody else says something that happens similar, they're gonna email in now,
or they're gonna share it or say something in the comment section. Blow
this video, somebody's going to add to this you wait. Thank you for
selling that in man, I don't envy you with those experiences. I'll tell
you what experience at Granted Creek, California and answers and questions just Stevie channel
is now part of my daily routine and an excellent source for many. Thank
you for that. After the landscape, wisdom and experiences of others that you
share, absolutely top notch experience. First ye as today in your broadcast,
what brings people to your channel? It would be that it is a center
or truth tellers, and you're easy going and open attitude attracts many of the
same kind. A line from the film Field of Dreams strikes me. Build
it and they will come. That is what you've done. I applaud you
and the contributions of the other members of this family. They participate in the
broadening of our horizons. It is in itself the center, but don't ask
me to divine that. It is just annoing my experience with the unseen occurred,
and I was sixteen years old when I left, ambitious enough to hike
into Granite Canyon, a well kept secret to a few in the area just
south of Carmel, California. I followed a cow trail over the ridge of
wild flowers in April one year alone, dropping down into a redwood forest.
It had freshwater creek. Had a freshwater creek that I hiked too with others,
but never alone before. The rumor was that it was haunted. My
father had hiked through it throughout the Las Padre Forest as a team himself that
we rarely spoke as if of his experiences that would have been back in the
thirties for him in the seventies for me. After crossing the ridge and finding
myself on a grassy bank alongside a stream, sat down to eat my lunch
a French baguette and a round of lopping cow cheese. I laid out on
a checker table cloth to add to the ambiance. Laggers are driving home near
inside of the valley, but I keep hearing something in the timber on my
left. There's a big timber behind the camera, big mountain. Anyway,
I hate it when when something catches my attention, it screws me up or
reading. No sooner than the moment my lunch was out and I sat back
in the sun, everything around me spoke in a silent whisper, not a
scream. To leave immediately. Fear doesn't begin to describe it. Yes,
danger was the feeling and imminent danger. If it had been verbal, it
would have been to the words go now, odd because there was nothing about
the day to be afraid of. But it felt like I was being watched,
not by one, but by many, and the watchers seemed to be
in the trees, up the stream, and almost in the air, just
in every aspect of the experience. First, I laughed it off because I
was a girl in my teens feeling indestructible at being out of my own But
within seconds it was no longer a joke or a paranoid moment, but an
immediate concern. I left within minutes after packing up my lunch, and I
never went back. Something was there that did not want me to be there,
and it wasn't a human being who was in the air and knowing.
I can't describe it any better than that. It was shared knowledge between me
and something else, not a person. This message was that it was not
my space and I should leave immediately. A few years later, my friends
and I went hiking in the same region, this time starting from Polo,
Colorado for a demanding hike up the pine Red Trail from the boy Scout camp
but Boocher's Gap. We arrived on the ridge, set up camp, and
had a small fire to cook on before going to bed in our sleeping bags
out under the stars. The fire was put out appropriately. Around midnight or
so, a dense fog took over the ridge and I awoke with an imminent
fear of a forest fire. The fog I saw morphed into a forest fire,
though there was no reason for it, no real fire, but an
awareness that the entire ridge would be taken over by fire. The feeling was
trapped. And remember this wasn't the current day. This is almost fifty years
ago, when fires weren't started like they are today. Like so many others
have said, and like I have felt before in the wild of Granite Canyon,
the message was to leave immediately. No one else in our group mentioned
it. We hiked out the next day and I never went back. The
feeling was much the same as the first experience in Granite Creek, which isn't
far from Pine Ridge, as the crow flies water at it, steep cliffs,
dense redwood forests, not public land but state slash national forest. In
retrospect, I didn't see anything, but the sensation was much more intuitive than
physical. I'm not a fearful person. I'm a forester's daughter as well,
the granddaughter of a forester, my dad's father, who worked as a forester
for the state back in nearly nineteen hundreds, always in charge of land in
northern California, from Shasta to King City and to the west. They were
firefighters, fire spotters as well as land management back in the day. They
certainly weren't talkers, and if one tried to ask about these experiences, it
would have been met with a keen eye, sharp expression, and zero disclosure
As to unexplainable things. They might have known, but they never would have
told the beings of the forest are real. Even if you can't see them,
they are there. They use methods to communicate to people who can receive.
We hear them, even if we don't understand what we are hearing and
feeling. I'd like to toss a question out to all the people who will
listen to your broadcasts and have been exposed to these experiences, and see if
they agree or not with the theory that I have. Perhaps they might contribute
additional theories of their own from the belief that the people who have had near
death experiences in their lives are more receptive to the physical energy of these beings.
An interesting study for those who have seen them or experienced them would be
to ask have you had a near death experience? Somehow I have an inkling
that if one has had a near death, they have an enhanced radar.
I can explain that more in depth, and I would be glad to But
I know you have a new property to tend to, lovely wife waiting,
cute outfits for the animals, by the way, and other people who are
equally as glad as I am for all of you do read this on your
broadcast. Let me just say, the channel and this experience is one of
the finer things in life. And I can speak for all of us who
say to you, how thankful we are for doing you do all the best
of all things wonderful coming your way. And the same to others that listen
to your broadcast and and a very merry Christmas to everyone. Thank you,
Randa, thank you. It's our a n Da Randa or Randa, I'm
guess it's Randa appreciated Randa. You remember of the club without a doubt.
And this channel isn't ending without people like you and all the people contribute and
all the people that come here to learn. So many freaking emails. I'm
trying to get back to the bottom, and I stop it and see it.
Okay, I don't know what's this one, So let's gonna start getting
wet here pretty quick. Definitely a storm rolling in from the ocean. It's
not here yet. It's gonna keep going this. This is titled Another Strange
Encounter, and I'm just marked this red pull again, Steve. My name
is Jerry. I shared my first encounter about when I was seven years old
in nineteen sixty four northwest Illinois. A couple of weeks ago, around nineteen
seventy three or so, again in northwest Illinois, a friend of mine and
I were doing what small time teams do in a small town back then,
back road beer drinking. We were on a very remote road, of course,
after drinking a couple of beers. Good to take a whizzer whatever.
So my friend who was driving, pulled over when we got out and started
peeing on his side of the car. The scrub brush started shaking and thrashing
about violently, and a deep guttural growl started. This is going on only
about fifteen yards or so from us. I zipped up and yelled at him
to get in the uping car. He was freaking up, but he couldn't
stop peeing. Kind of funny maybe now, but not then. He finally
jumped in the car, through it and drive and we took off and all
of a sudden something hit the back of the car with a loud thud.
Saw a shadow of something very large. My buddy said he saw a flash
of white. I didn't see white, but it happened freaking fast. We
then went back to his house in town and looked at the back room,
left under and trunk, and there were claw marks on the car. No
dance. Of course, people accus just to being drunk and making up a
story after them. I know what I saw. And to those out there
that say it was a bear, there's no bears in Illinois, and had
no bears in Illinois had ever been reported at that plus I know it wasn't
a bear. Thanks again for all you do for those who threaten you.
You're right they are epin pussy's excuse my language. At sixty five, I
still would kick their ass, and I believe you by the way. I
watch your wife's video making moose rib rawl. Oh my god, that looks
amazing. Still trying to find her a link, but definitely want to see
more recipes. Have a great day. Thanks again. All right, Man
Gerald, thanks for that share Man Cook and Eat It on YouTube is a
isser channel. I've been busy lately, haven't been able to put the time
in that she wants on it, but it'll pick up speed. We're gonna
do another version of the rib rowl here pretty quick too. All right,
when we got here, Mark, this is red. I've not seen what
you talk about, but I believe my stories. In the nineteen eighties,
I would go a white till hunting in Middle Georgia my aunt and uncle's place.
I'd parked on their front yard, then grabbed my gear and walk to
my stand. I've not loaded my rifle towels in my stand and put my
safety strap on. I hunt through lunch into the time for the afternoon hunt.
I would stay until shooting light was going on. This day I started
was going. I would stay until shooting light was going on. This day,
I started out while I was still had light. As I got about
twenty five yards from my stand, there was an itch in the middle of
my back and hair started standing up. When I would look back, I
saw nothing. I walked around some curves in the trail I was on.
As I cleared the curves, the itching hair standing up came back. Never
saw anything behind me or heard anything, just been thinking about it. Well,
I was short. Who knows about that? Was Donald. I think
we've all had our hair stand up on end when we're in the woods.
That's where we're sure. Okay, Mark, this is Red big Foot's title.
This one. Steve names John of military law enforcement background without being said.
When it came to the night of my seeing Bigfoot, I've developed a
no nonsense policy about the subject. My story happened in the summer twenty eighteen.
I was working for a food service company that delivers well into the night.
We have about a four mile radius from our store for a delivery we
are in a rural area of Virginia. This delivery was made down a country
road in Rockbridge County. I had to cross a parallene clearing together to my
customer's house. It was about ten pm at night. After making my delivery,
I again cross over the parallene clearing. I saw this creature first with
its eyeshine close to the ground like a deer. The next second I see
these eyes start to rise up and keep rising up to the height of about
ten feet. I knew this is no deer. I hit the high beam
lights in the Sioux brew out back. That's when I saw its massive black
body. It was far too large to be a bear. I wasn't afraid
of it. However, I didn't stay around long enough to become frightened.
After I got back to the store, I told the owner and fell the
drivers that night at what I saw parfa chorus with this subject. I was
the brunt of the jokes, being six foot five and over three hundred pounds
and over forty naturally, I shut those domasses up point blank, told the
unbelievers, you'ru wasn't there, and truth be told, you had to shit
yourselves if you were there. The one thing I didn't tell anyone is had
to carry a nine mill pistol and an R fifteen in my vehicle to protect
myself because dealing with money. But I firmly believe I had used them on
that creature, I would only have pissed it off. Although I've traveled through
that every since then, I've not seen the creature again. Sincerely, John,
there's another one. Another member in the Claubineau returned. They're just coming
and right in the door, one after the other, right, one after
the other. There's another one short one Mark. This is Red Wisconsin's surprise.
In August twenty eleven, my husband and I were dropped on the Pine
Slash Poplar River in Florence, Wisconsin to do a three hour canoe trip.
The river was low. We walked our canoe a lot of the way.
There's a sunny, beautiful day. We winked a lot of wildlife. When
we came around a bend, we saw us something about fifty feet in front
of us run across the river. There was a typical bigfoot looking creature.
It was brown, hairy and large and had a splash across the river,
which was very very low that only something that weighed as much as it did
could do. I turned round and looked at my husband and we both said,
what was that. There are no campgrounds or cabins in this area of
the river. We thought maybe it was sumbating in a Gillie suit, but
it was August that no one was hunting. Then we thought maybe it was
a person that was growing marijuana that was trying to scare us away. So
I called the DNR later and I asked if they were in any reports in
the area marijuana growing, and he said no. We continued to paddle past
this point where we saw this creature, and we're very scared because it disappeared
when it hit the river bank and made no sound at all, so we
thought it was hiding and waiting for us. We had no weapons and no
phone service. It was the most eerie feeling having to have to paddle past
where we saw it cross, and it was so quiet that if it would
have ran in the woods, we would have heard it would no problem,
but there was no sound and no sign of him after that. I've never
paddled so fast in my life, and I was visibly shaking when we finally
got picked up at our drop point. To this day, we don't know
what we saw and people think we're crazy. Why don't we tell them the
story? But I know what I saw it. It wasn't a bear and
it wasn't a man. So my only conclusion is so it was a sasquatch.
After an investigation, I learned that there is a big foot group in
Florence, Wisconsin. Thanks for the time. I love your channel and more
people enter the club and no return right storm's coming. I'm gonna keep going.
I'm not done yet, but little gotta get home. Excuse me,
Mark. This is Red Oregon El Hunt, Wolves and Knocks. I was
El Kunta in the early November twenty twenty one in eastern Oregon, about fifty
miles southeast of John Day, Oregon. Buddy and I had drawn hair tags
for the unit and were optimistic of a successful hunt. Okay, hair tags
that was a type of must have been bull tags. We had the same
unit for the first time. Excuse me. We had the same unit for
the first time in twenty nineteen with no luck because we really didn't have any
time scout the area. We got lucky drawn a tag in twenty twenty one,
since it's high demand hunted with loss of applicants in the tag draw.
Anyway, I should backtrack a bit more to say that I have an older
work buddy, Ken that has hunted this same unit of the past, and
I asked him for some tips of where to be concentrating my energy. He
did, along with some stories. Yeah, those kinds of stories he was
hunting around there are twenty fifteen with another workmate, rich they were in a
wall tent in the middle of a small clearing slash prairie in the middle of
the night. They were a wolf by loud banging as in tree knocking on
the edge of the clearing. He said. It went on for several minutes
as they stood outside the tent shining lights across the field to the trees and
saw nothing. I later asked Richard about it. He said, I don't
know. I don't want to talk about it. He said, okay.
I just went on with my day people at work, just listening accounts stories
without a lot of its sincerity. Ken also had stories of the graze.
So back to twenty twenty one hunt, My buddy John and I left camp
of the late on the third day of the season the try New area,
which drove three miles west of Camp on the paved Forest Service Road to an
old logging road. Heading north, it went up about a thousand feet to
the four thousand footmark before a dead ending at the gate. Beyond the gate
to the north was an area that was logged maybe forty or so years ago.
The road behind the gate was now impassable. The fence that went to
the east and the west of the gate is a three strand barbed wire.
John crossed the gate to the north. I walked the fence to the east.
It was cold, the ground was frozen and crunchy. I walked the
quiet the fence as quietly as I could for about a quarter a mile,
slowly going uphill on the spine of a long butte, with the fence twenty
foot fir trees to my left and older big trees to my right. As
I got about two thirds up the hill, it all turned back into old
grove, then off to the northwest. I heard a wolf. Powell mind
New Organ Game Commission says there are none in this area. Then a second,
and then a third. I believe I heard up to five wolves howling
from my northwest all around to the east, I estimate a half mile away.
Anyway, I realized I was being surrounded. Decided to backtrack. A
radio John and I said, I'm getting out of here. He agreed.
About one hundred yards later, the sling of my rifle broke. I managed
to catch it just before it hit the ground. A good one. I've
done that before. Crap, and now I have to pack this fifteen pound
ramatick in my hands. I set my rifle against knoll down tree and was
tying up some paracord as a temp fix. As I tie the last knot,
I see motion on my right. Something big, black and four legged
running at me fourty yards away. I thought there which I also had a
tag four. I stood up, raised my rifle to see one hundred and
fifty plus black wolf pound one hundred and fifty plus black wolf running straight at
me. Safety off that it must have saw me and peeled off to my
right, heading southwest. Now here's the fun part. As of following this
rifle wolf with my rifle bam directly behind me and on the other side of
the fence no more than a hundred feet I hear a loud crack of wood
on wood I can only describe as a ten foot long baseball bat hitting a
six inch diameter a large pole and didn't the ending, not a sound,
a motion, nothing. All I was thinking it was what the f was
that? And where did that wolf go? Heels to say, made sure
my rifle and my forty five of my leg were good to go, and
I steadily walked back to the truck with the rifle button to my shoulder.
Got back to the truck about ten minutes before John. All I could do
is watch the trees with that nervous weariness of is there something out there?
To this day, I don't know if the wolf was sniffing me out or
just ran man away and got spooked when a camel thing stood up and pointed
at him. I also wonder if some of those howls I heard were the
wolves and the knock was at warning to not mess with my buddy. I've
ever heard of wolves coexisting with the big furry guy. I'm curious to know
without finding out for myself. Oh and by the way, we didn't see
an elk the entire season, which is not a common Thanks for reading and
enjoy the hell Oed Channel. Chris oh Salem, Oregon. Hey Chris,
thanks for that. Man. No, I haven't seen them protecting wolves or
running with the wolves myself. I've heard people have mentioned them running with dogs,
heard once maybe about them being a wolves. But the truth of the
matter is, man, I've trapped wolves where these beings frequent a lot.
I've had my hands on a lot of wolves, and nobody just tried to
stop me. Now, just messed with any of my assets. Now,
except that one time I could hear tree knocks while I was setting in that
huge cedar swamp, the same trees that I showed you guys the spring when
it hung the meat. And then I got the grizzly bear on the wind
or grizzlebear on the trailer camera on hundred fifty pound wolf. You got to
have your hands on a lot of wolves to be able to or it's got
to have your hands on a lot of whatevers and weigh them to be able
to accurately guess the weight. Lots of people look at a wolf, is
it, oh my god, thinks a twohndred pounds hundredfty pounds. And to
be honest, the largest wolf I have ever trapped in my life was only
one hundred and twenty seven pounds, and that was a huge breaking wolf.
And that's after a lot of bloody wolves too. I mean, there are
hundred fifty pounders out there, but they're they're very, very very not common
at all. Right, unless of people always ask me how much you think
that grizzle bear wighed, I don't know. I would say I don't know
because I've never weighed one. I've never weighed a mountain grizzy bear, so
I would not be able to tell you how much it was, right,
It's just my feelings when people have try to have a solid guest to how
much Sutin ways, you have to have way to handful of them first to
be able to have an accurate guess. Wolves are typically very very tall,
they're right up to here, but they're very lean, right, the very
lean animals are on the run non stop. Anyway, Sorry, man,
I got off track there, but no, I've never heard of wolves and
sasquatch going hand in hand in my life. All right, here's another one.
Mark this is red has titled the Club of No Return. Well,
Steve, my name is also Steve, and I'm sure so many others appreciate
what you have done and continue to do for us, the people. I
follow your channel for what I guess about two years now, but just recently
subscribe. Yeah, I'm one of those. Sorry I took me along.
I don't worry YouTube will un subscribe, yet they always do anyway. Here's
my story. September twenty eighteen, my son and I went to a boy
Scout camp about an hour away from my home in northeast Tennessee. It is
a well known place, but I'll leave it there to protect their anonymity.
So by the time I arrived at a late start, everyone else had their
tents all set up like so many tepees, away from the perimeter structural cabins
in one section of the camp. I had set mine up next, two
in between two of the cabins, away from from most everyone, except ironically
enough, the Scout leader who was staying in the cabin. Night fell quickly
and I struggled to get us set up. We played hide and seek during
the dusk hour, and some of the adults were chatting in and around the
picnic carrea that served as a center point to this cul de sac in the
woods hadn't been dark more than twenty minutes. While we stood there chatting with
out of nowhere, this stone bounces off in one of the cabins and scuttled
across the wood deck, slashed steps of the cabin, straight and to the
right of me. Everyone just stopped at once. Acorns were falling, and
it was September, but this wasn't an acorn. It sounded like it hit
the side, not the roof. Hit the side, not the roof.
Not long after that we hear a distinct knock in the distance. I'm no
outdoorsm and and admitted. But it doesn't take Davy Crockett to figure out that
it was close enough to here, but far enough to not get a pinpoint
or gauge exactly how far it was. I merely went into spotty sinse.
Sorry i'd use that reference, but that's what I imagine. It would feel
like. My hair stood up, my pulse rose, and my breathing increased.
Everyone else just carried on and maybe made a comment or two about it,
but I was glad it was dark so they couldn't really see the fear
that had to be screaming across my face. But I also started writing off
the stone as nothing too, until I heard the knock. Then there was
another one to our six and just left. It was closer, but still
a ways off. I struggled to believe what was happening, and everyone else
didn't even seem to notice. That's when I realized they had no clue was
going on. I'm sure they heard it too, but they just didn't know,
so I tried to ignore it until yet a third knock resonated through the
campground just before I got to my tent. Three knocks wire triangulated positions of
our camp. I'm laying in my tent trying to get my then seven year
old son to sleep, Acorns falling off on the tent with no wind and
humid air. I've never wanted to leave a place so bad in my life.
I should have left, maybe, but I stuck it out. A
couple of Scout leaders walked around the camp of flashlights until midnight or so.
I'm laying dead still with this ridiculous four inch lock blade in my hand and
across my chest. Knocks every twenty minutes or so, and always an answer
from the other directions. Then this crashing sound came like someone threw a Volkswagen
beetle into the pile, into a pile of branches. I'm sitting there thanking
the stars. My son did wake up. He was on the side of
the tent that based a tree, and I felt it was the safest place
I could give him. At the time. I wish now, I just
packed our ship and got in the cabin. But last I lay there all
night hearing noises and crashes, and there's guttural but tangible speaking about fifty yards
away. It only happened once. It was around three am or so.
I had my phone. It was peaking. I had my phone and was
peaking every so often for time. It sounded like no joking here the Tasmanian
Double from the Looney Tunes. But it was deeper and fast, like a
speed talk around a car commercial. That's when I thought seriously about getting out
of dodge. I just prayed to God to spare my son from these things.
He lost his mom the next year to cancer. It's been tough,
but he was spared that nightmare of knights because he can sleep through a nuclear
bomb. Apparently. I heard something heavy with padded footstones walk away from my
tent after I dozed off around I am. I was exhausted from work and
all the tussle. It was just loud enough to wake me and immediately went
into fight or flight. I would have died, but the bastard was getting
all French as a lock blade up his ass as my death wish, I
swear it, but no. It just walked away and then the glorious sun
came up about fifteen minutes later. That was the longest fifteen minutes of my
life. At dawn, I finally got the nerb decks at my vinyl sanctuary.
It was still fairly dark because the sun was behind the horizon. I
had my flashlight out and scanned the perimeter in all directions twenty yards away or
so. At just the end of the last cabin, I catch eyeshine.
I freezed the beam and my breath broke. Now it was grumpy, tired
and fed up with this whole thing. So I walked straight toward the eyes,
saying I see you in whispered tones, I see you. Then another
eye shine appears and I stopped for a second. I forgot about my son
and the tent for one split second, and it gave me pause because it
didn't want to get too far away. I raised the lamp up to get
a better view, and standing just inside the camp perimeter or two white tailed
deer. Relieved in somewhat humiliated, I went back to wake my son.
We had Why had dear entered so close to humans? I thought maybe they
had no fear because people can't hunt there, or maybe they knew sanctuary next
to us was the better alternative to those beings out there. The worst part
of it all is that no one mentioned it all that morning. Sorry,
the worst part of it all is that no one mentioned it it all that
morning. It left me thinking it was my own imagination. I tried to
say something to one woman about all the noises that night at breakfast, and
she just deflected the conversation with something else. I think she heard it too,
but didn't want to know what it was, so it was awkward.
I could see discomfort in her eyes, but no fear. I was completely
drained that day and had to trudge through all the day's activities, so I
didn't bring it up again. Forward six months or so, I run to
the Scout leader out of grub and pub. By chance, I brought it
up. He tells me he thinks I was being haunted. He said he
heard some weird sounds, but no crashing sounds. Maybe, he said mentor
type, he thinks you were being hunted. He said he heard some weird
sounds, but no crashing sounds. I don't know. See people are crazy,
but I didn't I know, I didn't imagine myself into that miserable state
of mind norder. I wish to be exhausted the next day. I have
some of that joy stolen from me, my son, and the last person
I would go looking for these things. If sounds could kill, they shot
me in the face. I can't imagine what carnage they could bring, should
they choose. I would really like some answers, but our society day has
been watered down with lie after lie, as they had ever, It's just
more entertaining for most just to just point and laugh than to listen to think.
Next Again, for this opportunity, I help. My input brings souls
to another, then doesn't get lost in the archives. Peace to you and
yours. Thanks for that email, Steve, appreciate it. I can't imagine
having that vulnerable feeling with a small child and a tend with me. Nothing
to protect us i'd be frustrating. Oh man, I'm done. Still second
tired, now done. Oh I gotta get going. Time to get going.
Funny, you can see something dark beside a tree. Sure what I
was just looking at, So you can see why I was doing the double
take. I always do double takes. It's just out of having right m
just a stump. But once you're seeing something, those sort of shapes stand
out no matter what for the rest of your life, no matter where you
are, when you're in the woods, you always have to look to be
certain I'll be back. H