I live in a small community of Clouds Creek and we have a lot of
Bigfoot activity. My friends and I go out and we squatch on any given
night, and we're never disappointed. There's a place that we call wood Haven,
and within it you can find a lot of signs of bigfoot tree markings,
ex structures, and tracks. Most who live in the area have experienced
or heard him holler. We know there are more than one unit living within
here, and yes, some have even ventured into our yards and on our
decks. One night, my friends and I all gathered at my house here
in Clouds Creek to head out and do some squatching. Before we left,
twenty people had joined us. We left two hours after we ate, and
I left my recorder going, hoping to get a good recording of him hollering.
We headed out to the pines, which is our starting point on most
excursions. We all stood outside of our vehicles waiting to hear him holler,
and it didn't take long before we heard something heavy walking in the woods close
by. The steps were quick and limbs snapped as the thing moved towards us.
The movement kept up for fifteen minutes and abruptly stopped and it was standing
just inside the trees. It was pretty spooky really. Leaves began rustling again,
and then it began knocking on a tree trunk. The sound was amazing
being so close. So what did we do? Of course, we moved
over to a tree close by and began knocking back. More wood knocks were
coming now from other locations, some we estimated as far as a mile away.
It was almost continuous for fifteen minutes, and now we were a few
yards away from our cars, and small rocks began landing in front of the
cars, and some went over our heads, and there was the telltale odor
we all hear so much about. We experienced bigfoot in this location with all
of our senses, with the exception of seeing one. But they were so
close. We agreed that we had been in this location long enough. We
didn't want to intrude any more than we already had, so we loaded up
and we left no need to anger the beast or get anyone hurt. We
moved to another area that we knew had activity. Now at the new location,
we all sat in our cars with the engines off, and we listened
with open windows. Coodes began calling all around us. I don't know how
close they were. A coyotes call can travel a long distance, but they
were pretty close. Among all the coyote chatter, we heard something imitating the
coyote calls, but with a much deeper voice. These were notes a coyote
could not mate. The calling stopped and we could clearly hear cheddar from the
squatches. You cannot mistake those noises. As I mentioned earlier that night,
before we left, I started a recording device on my back deck. I
do this sometimes when there's been activity around the house. Upon returning home,
I played the sounds from the recorder for everyone. Something big was clearly walking
up the stairs of the deck. Within a few seconds, the recorder picked
up this thing sniffing the audio recorder deep inhales as it got my scent from
the recorder and vocal exhales. The creature did this several times before the recorder
captured it walking back down the steps. A minute went by on the recording,
and then we caught the same animal. We think it was the same
animal, roar or howl not far away. It actually scared bared us,
knowing that we were sitting on the deck where a bigfoot had been in the
last three hours. These events happen often in our area. The word has
gotten out that bigfoot is here, and they're very vocal, so people come
into the area a lot to listen for them. On some nights, cars
will be parked along the road so their lights turned off and they just sit
there hoping to hear one sound off. Our area has become a bigfoot hotspot,
so I've hunted many places, but most of the time it's been on
family land, either in Louisiana or Mississippi. This incident took place in West
Feliciana Parish just outside of Saint Francisville, Louisiana, on property that has been
in my family for well over one hundred years. It is rich old growth
with major creeks and several dry branches running through it. Day in mid December,
I was hunting by myself, and I hit the woods just before daylight
so that I could walk in and set up before anything was aware of my
presence. I spent the entire morning without seeing so much as a squirrel,
which bothered me, but I really didn't think much of it, and I
thought that the weather system must be moving in so I decided to check the
forecast when I went in for lunch. I ate lunch and visited with my
grandmother for a while, and I decided to have one more go at it,
even though it was getting late in the afternoon. So when I went
back out there, I decided to set up downhill from a tall sweet gum
tree. It had always been a good spot for me to set up.
I didn't want to be close enough for the squirrels to alert the deer of
my presence, so I put myself against a black oak overlooking a branch of
a creek about fifty yards from that sweet gum tree. I thought that I
might catch a deer crossing the creek on their way back to bed down,
and the spot I chose was well known for this and for that very purpose.
I got into the woods and saw right away that it was different from
the morning. There was life everywhere, but not much wind, so I
could hear the birds and chirping, and the branches moving as the squirrels jumped
from limb to limb. After about thirty minutes, I heard something coming my
way from across the creek on the opposite side at a pretty good pace.
And I readied myself in case it was a good buck, so that I
wouldn't miss the opportunity. Seconds later, a buck came running down, and
when it jumped the water, it stumbled in the loose sand and gravel of
the creek bed, giving me just the time I needed to take a shot.
I hit him just as he was standing up, and he never took
another step. I was only about twenty yards away, so I watched him
to give him time and make sure that he had bled out and was dead.
A short time later, I jumped down into the creek bed and made
the short distance over to him. It was then that I noticed he had
broken one of his front legs when it sank into the sand on his jump.
I thought it a little strange that he didn't take the time to make
a careful jump, and I figured something must have been pushing him and he
was more interested in getting distance between him and it. I didn't hear dogs,
but we have seen big cats there before, and we do have coyotes,
bobcats, and the occasional bear, so I didn't give it much thought.
Just as I was going to drag him up on the bank to gut
him, there was a loud pop just over the hill next to me,
right around the bend of the creek. It was loud, but it didn't
sound like a tree or a branch falling. Definitely wood on wood, but
it sounded like it was a wooden box, if that makes any sense.
My first thought was someone in the woods with me and wanted me to know
they were there, because I obviously had a gun. But why wouldn't they
just call out to me because they were only a few hundred feet from me
just over the hill. The woods were now completely quiet, but soon after
I heard another loud pop, so I yelled out who is it? And
I got no answer. This land is only about fifteen miles from Angola Penitentiary
and twenty miles from Dixon Correctional in Jackson, Louisiana. Inmates escape and I
wondered if that was a possibility. We watch over our property, and so
I was going to find out who was on the land and make sure that
they weren't poaching. I walked straight over the hill, but nobody was there
and there were no signs of anyone. Then another loud pop about fifty yards
across the creek, where the deer had come from. This rattled me because
I got immediately a feeling that I was being drawn away, and I wasn't
going to have that. I decided to go get my deer and clean it
at my grandmother's house in safety and give the local game warden a call for
whoever was trashpassing on the property. I made it back over the hill,
but my deer was gone. No tracks of any kind but the ones I
made earlier. All that remained was a blood pool. I was mad as
heck, but then I realized something had just picked up and walked off with
my deer. Whoever or whatever it was, had to lean over and pick
up about one hundred and sixty pound deer four feet from the bank. No
signs or anything. Now I was going to find my deer, and I
found a blood trail a few feet up the bank on the dry leaves.
I followed it for seventy five yards and then allowed crack as before, about
fifty or sixty yards to my west, and then right away another crack on
about twenty yards to my east, and then another about one hundred yards to
my south. The woods in the ground cover were very thick, and I
couldn't see much of anything. That was enough. They could have my dear
and my pride. I was going to keep my behind, so I turned
myself towards my grandmother's house and I whistled myself out of the woods. I
wanted whatever or whomover to know that I was leaving. It was the shortest
mile walk of my life. I had to work very hard not to run.
I didn't want to look like fleeing prey. I stayed at my grandmother's
that night due to the close proximity of what had just happened. We called
around, asking neighbors if they had been hunting our land, but no one
knew of anyone in the woods. I kept the story to myself. This
is a small community, and I didn't want anyone talking about the crazy people
in my family. I can't say for sure what I encountered that day,
because I didn't see anything, not tracks, nor did I smell anything.
I just know that whatever picked up my deer had to be strong and tall
enough to reach down from the bank and walk off without a sign other than
that blood trail. My brother and a few others later talked about times they
felt like they were being watched while they were hunting in the woods. I
still kept my mouth shut because of the looks they were getting when they would
tell others. But to this day, almost thirty years later, I can
still remember everything, including the fear.