This email is from Judy. This is really good, She writes, I've
been devouring your podcasts and videos since recently discovering you. I especially enjoy the
Steve Lily stories and I'm anxiously awaiting the next installment. As a native Northwest
Georgian, I'm also a fan of your accent, which could belong to any
one of my brother's nephews or other kins. And I lament the loss of
our regional accent and hearing it is a bomb to me. I don't think
people are losing their Southern accent. Maybe a little. I don't know.
I just talk like I talk, like it or not. I'm sixty five
years old and I grew up on a large farm in the corner of Northwest
Georgia, which is within spitting distance of Chattanooga. I can see Lookout Mountain
from my childhood bedroom, and I have two older brothers. One is thirteen
years my senior and the next one is seven years older than me. I
was very much a tomboy as a kid, running through the woods and fields
of our three hundred acre farm. Our nearest neighbor was a mile away.
Daddy raised beef, cattle, and pigs. And we grew tomatoes and beans
for sale at the farmers markets in Chattanoog in Atlanta. Every Sunday afternoon we'd
round up whichever cows we had pre selected to be taken to the sale the
following day. This was one of my favorite memories because it meant time in
the fields and woods, and it was searching for cows and calves, and
they always seemed to know that they were on the market list, and therefore
they would run away. I say all this just to give you a bit
of context to my Bigfoot story. Growing up in the late sixties and the
early seventies, I had never heard of bigfoot. I never heard anyone talk
of any wood buggers or the likes in the area. We had deer upcats,
and the occasional black bear and an escaped hog that had gone farrell,
but nothing more exotic than that. I had no fear at all of anything
in our expanse of pine and oak forest around the farm. Our house set
in a small clearing next to five cleared acres behind our house, and a
few more cleared for pig pins and pig barns and cattle bars and feed lots
just behind our house was a few acres of grazing, which was surrounded on
three sides by piney woods. The barns were two hundred yards from the house.
One night in late spring of nineteen sixty seven, we had several hogs
who were farrowing. It was always at night, it seems, so my
mom and dad and my brother were at the pig barn tending to the pigs.
My older brother was already away at college. Most of the time,
I'd be right in the midst of the pigs, because there's nothing cuter than
a newborn piglet, in my opinion. For whatever reason, on this night,
I'd been left asleep in my bedroom while the others were at the pig
barn. My room had one window which was fairly low to the ground and
it went nearly to the ceiling. It also had a door to the front
porch, which in warm weather I kept open along with the window to catch
whatever breeze I could. Of course, we didn't have air conditioning, But
on this night I was awakened by footsteps on the porch, and I looked
out through the screen door, expecting to see one or more of my family
coming back from the pig barns. But what I saw instead was a big
shadow. It was a huge black shadow standing on the porch five feet or
so from my screen door. It was facing me, but in the darkness,
I couldn't make out any features or details, just the outline of a
hulking body that was so tall it had to hunch over to fit on the
porch. The ceilings were eight foot tall. There it stood there, silent
and except for its loud, moist breathing, which reminded me of a horse
after a long run. I wasn't frightened. I was just confused. What
was this thing? Am I seeing it? Or am I still asleep and
dreaming. I could hear the squealing of pigs in the distance, so I
knew I was awake. Just as I considered getting up out of bed to
shut the lock on the wooden door, the shadow took a step off the
porch and I saw it pass by my open window and head around to the
back of the house well. I jumped up, and I shut and locked
the door, and I pulled down the glass panes of the window. I
thought about running to my parents, but what would I tell them? So
I stayed in my room until they finally returned, trying to make sense of
what I had seen. I never spoke to them about it, because it
would seem foolish in my family, which tolerated little foolishness, so I kept
the whole story to myself. The following summer, or maybe the summer after
that, my brother got a copy of a magazine called Field and Stream and
the Mail, and on the cover was a still photo of the Bigfoot from
the Paterson Gimblin film. Well. I was transfixed. There was the shadow
that I had seen on my porch that spring night. This was a real
thing, a true life monster, and my heart raced as I tried to
put the pieces together. Could this thing live in our own piney woods?
Surely not, I thought this Bigfoot lived way out west, not here in
Georgia. Over the next few weeks, I studied the dense pine forest just
behind our house, which stretched for hundreds of acres. My eyes were always
drawn to that tree line, wondering if I might catch a glimpse one day
of what I had seen on the porch. I never heard it's called,
I never smelled it, never had a rock thrown at me. I wasn't
afraid. I was intrigued. I wondered if it was lonely like I was.
Sometimes I even wondered if it had come looking for someone or something to
relieve some of that loneliness. I know that sounds crazy. Two cowboys in
California had just discovered a monster in the wilderness, and I was concerned it
might be lonely. Well, I never saw it again, but I did
become a psychologist, maybe out of that childhood connection to helping the lonely,
or maybe not. In any case, I've always been fascinated with other people's
experiences with Bigfoot, and I truly appreciate the form that you provide for them
to share their stories with the rest of us. Thank you for what you
do. Well, Judy, this is just really fun for me. So
she goes on to say, if you decide to share this, please use
my first name, which I did. I just do this for fun.
I think these stories are very intriguing, and this was really interesting, and
it's a great story, and the story itself is it's captivating. It's you
know, she saw it, she was intrigued by it. It's like so
many people. But I want to say, she went on to become a
professional a psychologist, a person that had to earn a degree, pass all
kind of tests to become licensed in what she does. And she's interested in
bigfoot, so it's not always the you know, bigfoot people who believe and
follow the bigfoot topic sometimes get cornered into this class of people that are kind
of crazy. But you know, these stories really are interesting and they're interesting
to a lot of different people, not just the crazies, although there are
some crazies in this topic. Don't do not make any mistake about that.
But I thought this was interesting that Judy is a total professional, very smart
person. You have to be that way to get through those schools. This
was a great story, so I really appreciate you sending it. Judy.
Hey, y'all, welcome to the Dixie Cryptid Podcast. I appreciate you joining
me. There are six stories of encounters with strange creatures about real people in
this podcast. I don't know how long it's going to be, but it's
a pretty good one. It's a pretty good one, so I hope you
guys enjoy it all. Right, here we go. Some emails I get
have a lot of personal notes to me or some preliminary background stuff that I
don't normally read, but in this email, I'm going to read it from
front to back because it's full of history, full of excitement, intriguing mysteries.
I think you guys are really gonna like this story. The writer's name
is Marianna. Oh Do I have a story for you. It's a true
story that happened to my grandmother in World War two, and I have a
feeling you're really gonna like it. The story has been around our family for
a long time, but it has never been shared publicly. I took my
time writing it, and right now, with all the alien stuff popping up,
it seems to be a good time to finally share it. Also had
one possible Bigfoot non visual story that happened to me, but since it took
place in Ohio, I sent it to Nance from Buck Eye Bigfoot and she
read it on the July fifteenth, twenty twenty two episode. You made a
good choice. Nance does these stories a lot of justice, and she's great
at this. My name is Marianna and I live in the United States now,
but I was born and raised in the beautiful town of Koshi, Okay.
These are some Slavic names of places, and I'm going to have trouble
with it. Ko koshike And was raised in the beautiful town of Koshik in
Slovakia, the former Czecho Slovakia in Central Europe. My grandmother came from a
small village near a Slovak town called Pravaska Bastreika, where she grew up and
lived as a young woman during the World War Two. I'm looking forward to
hearing you pronounce the town's names yet. And you had once already mentioned my
hometown of Koshike on your podcast a few years back when you were giving a
birthday shout out and they were from there, and you did a great job
pronouncing it correctly then, So I believe you'll do just fine with this one.
Well, I don't remember that, but I hope I got Koshike Koshi.
I think that's right. Koshik and asked, with a little V on
top of it, is I think is pronounced like a sh onto the story.
My grandmother's name was Maria, or my Grandma Marienka, as we affectionately
called her. She was a sweet, goodhearted, simple Christian woman who went
to church every Sunday, and she was as honest as they get. I've
never ever heard her lie or make anything up. It just wasn't in her
nature. She didn't even have that kind of imagination. No one in our
family ever doubted that this really happened. In fact, my dad remembers other
people from her village were calling it too. Back when I was a kid,
I was lucky to spend a lot of my time with my grandmother as
a child, and she would often babysit me and my sister after school while
my parents were still at work. She was truly the perfect grandma. I
asked my grandparents and sister of their recollection of her, retelling the story,
we ended up bringing up a lot of lovely memories of her. We were
all very fond of her, and decades later, I still miss her.
We all do. Although we heard this story from her on different occasions,
we all remember it the same. Her story never changed, and this is
how I remember it. One day, my parents were heading somewhere out and
Grandma came over to babysit us as usual. May have been nine years old
at the time. My Grandma and I sat in the living room trying to
decide what we were going to do for fun. When my father walked by
and said, hey, why don't you ask your grandma to tell you about
the time she saw an alien? Now that got my full attention. Tell
me, I begged my grandmother. Before we get to her story, let
me give you a very quick history on Czecho Slovakia during the World War two
is that's when the story took place. On September thirty, nineteen thirty eight,
Adolf Hitler and the British, French and Italian leaders signed the Munich packed
by which they basically handed Czecho Slovakia to Hitler. It was meant to keep
the peace, but we all know how that turned out. After Hitler invaded
Czecho Slovakia, he promised the Slovakia independence, and so on March fourteenth and
nineteen thirty nine, the first independent Slovakia was formed. This new very small
country with a week leadership, was then bullied by Germany into cooperation. It
was a while before Slovakia was able to organize resistance and build up forces,
and at last, on the twenty ninth of August nineteen forty four, the
Slovak National Uprising broke out in response to a German invasion of Slovakia. Sadly,
the Slovak National Uprising was crushed by the Germans in just a couple of
months, and as a retaliation for this resistance, nearly one hundred villages were
destroyed and thousands of people executed by the Nazis. What followed after that was
several months of very difficult times under German occupation. That was before the Russian
Army was able to push west and liberate Slovakia towards the end of the war.
It was in these turbulent times during the German occupation in the winner of
nineteen forty five that this story took place the town of Pavaska, but Striker
was little more than a village until the weapons factory was built in nineteen twenty
nine, and that brought a lot of jobs into the area. During World
War Two, jobs were scares and living was difficult, So my grandmother Maria,
who was at the time twenty two years old, considered herself lucky to
have a job at the weapons factory, and not just any job. She
held an important position of quality control of the manufactured bullets. The bullet manufacturing
division was housed in a hall that workers referred to as the tunnel for its
elongated shape and underground build The long haul was filled with rows of bullet manufacturing
machines which were partially automated, and when in operation, they required workers to
be constantly present to complete the process. Since all the able men were drafted,
these jobs were left to mostly women. In fact, the whole factory
employed only few men, and they were those too old or too unfit to
be drafted. The only other men around were the German guards who were guarding
the factory, for it was no doubt an important strategic object. Port of
Maria's job at the factory, she would come down to the bullet manufacturing hall
take bullet samples for a quality check. She would weigh them and make sure
that they had the correct amount of gunpowder in them. Her visits to the
hall were usually rather pleasant, as she had a lot of friends amongst the
women's working there, many of them from her village. However, on that
November day, as she walked towards the hall entrance, she had no idea
how very different this visit was going to be. At first approach, she
noticed a lot of unusual commotion. The door was open and a number of
women were running out screaming. Maria cautiously entered the hall against the stream of
panicked workers and quickly realized they were all running for the door. She tried
to talk to some of them to find out what was happening, but to
no avail. The women were frantic, and all she could understand from their
incoherent screams was something about a monster. She peeked down the long manufacturing hall,
but she couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, or nothing that could
possibly scare them like that. There was something else she noticed that terrified her
in a whole other way. The women running for the exit were in their
panic, leaving the machines on and running well. This could spell a huge
disaster. As the bullets and the machines were starting to pile up, her
sense of responsibility kicked in and she quickly sprang into action. She ran to
the first row of machines and started turning them off one by one. When
she was done with one row, she quickly moved to the next, next
one, and by now all the women had escaped, and soon Maria,
making her way through the rows of machines, was the only one left in
the entire hall, or so she thought. Focused on her tasks, she
rushed around the corner of another row of machines when she instantly froze in her
tracks. She found herself face to face with the thing. The thing or
judo meaning the weird thing, is how my grandmother referred to it. Well,
what did it look like? I asked her. She described it as
follows. It was short, It was a meter a bit over three feet
tall, with a big, hairless head. It was slender and smooth and
dark, and my grandmother's words, it was like froglike skin. It had
long and skinny fingers, and its face was dominated by large, pure black
eyes, pretty much no nose, and a tiny slit like lipless mouth.
There was no hair at all. There were no ears as far as she
could see. It sported some kind of sheet draped over its torso, and
it was slowly shuffling forward while mumbling something. But there were no recognizable words,
and it didn't even sound like a language. Well, what about its
head? What was it shape like? I asked. She thought about it
for a moment and searching for the right words to describe it, and then
she said, it looked like an egg. I have to admit that when
she said that, I was immediately disappointed. In my nine year old mind,
this creature could not have been an alien, because I knew exactly what
an alien's head was shapelike, because I had seen it in the movie Et.
What she described did not have a head like ET. Back then,
I never heard of a soul called gray alien. The only alien I knew
of was ET. Even any alien as I've seen in cartoons were different looking,
as those were usually green and they had antennas on their heads. So
just to confirm what she had said, I brought a pen in paper and
I had my grandmother draw the head. Well, what she drew was the
shape that I would later in my life see on the drawings of gray aliens,
a head very round on the top and pointy on the bottom. Even
though I had to work through the disappointment of it not being the Et from
the movie, I was still eager to hear the rest of her story.
So there she was, face to face with this thing, frozen in fear
as they stared at each other for a moment which felt to her like an
eternity, and then finally the panic hit her and she took off running.
If I recall correctly, she still had enough composure to turn off the last
few machines before running for the door, not daring to look back. She
was relieved to safely make it outside, where the crowd of terrified employees had
now gathered. Someone had already notified the German guards, who rushed over to
investigate, and the slowly moving creature eventually made its way to the door and
it walked out, where the curious crowd observed it from a safe distance.
One of the last details I remember my grandmother telling me about this encounter was
how one of the German guards was joking that they wanted to know if it
was a male or a female, and he used his bayonet to lift up
the sheet that the creature was wearing. Well, his joke made otherwise terrified
women giggle a bit, but the findings of this odd gender reveal were unknown
and were most likely and conclusive. The Germans then captured it. It was
easy and without any resistance, and they loaded it on a truck and took
it away. I asked my grandmother if she knew what happened to it.
Afterwards they told us they killed it. She answered, and that was that
with so much killing going on by the Nazis, absolutely no one questioned it
personally a highly doubt that Germans would kill it. They probably just said that
to give the people some closure. There are some theories out there about Nazis
collaborating with Aliens during World War Two? Could this be somehow part of it.
Either way, such a creature would be way too valuable just to kill.
Where it came from and how it got inside the underground factory hall will
forever be one of the mysteries. There were air shafts up to the ceiling,
and I remember my grandmother believing that it came through there. And what
this creature was or what really happened to it afterwards, also remains a big
unknown. The whole thing was quite quickly put out of the people's minds,
simply because there was so much happening at these difficult times. For example,
a couple of months later, the Allied forces made an air rate attempt at
this Nazi held weapon factory, but the bombs missed its target and instead of
the factory, they dropped near the village where my grandmother and her family lived.
A local school full of kids was hit, but luckily the bomb just
fell through the roof and did not explode. It was considered by locals a
miracle. And so the war went on and the weird creature encounter quickly became
just one of the crazy things that happened during those horrible times of war.
But sadly, my dear grandmother passed away in the late nineteen eighties, just
a couple of years after telling me this story, and I never got to
talk to her about it again. I wish I could turn back time and
sit down with her again. I would have so many more questions. But
when you're a kid, you don't realize how precious and limited the time with
your loved ones may be. And now I regret not have more conversations with
her about her story and her life. So to all of you listening right
now, I say, if you're lucky enough to still have your grandparents and
elders around, take a moment to sit down with them and listen to their
stories. You might just learn something incredible about their life. Oh and before
I forget, in any case, any of you pondered about what you would
do if you were working at a Nazi occupied bullet factory during World War Two.
Well, I'm happy to tell you that my grandmother Maria and her co
workers had conspired against the Nazis and were purposely putting two little gunpowder in the
bullets. I like to think about all the lives that they may have saved
by doing this. When the Nazis finally found out that there was something wrong
with the bullets, they called my grandmother into the office for questioning. She
thought she wasn't going to get out of there alive, but somehow she managed
and they let her walk out of there. If my calculations are correct.
At that time, she was already visibly pregnant with her first child, so
maybe that help. She immediately went into hiding and didn't go back to work
anymore, knowing they were getting close to finding out the truth. And luckily
for her and her co conspirators, the war was coming to an end and
the Nazis just didn't have any more time to go after them. They were
too busy losing the war and fleeing the Russian army that was closing in on
them. Had they found out about it earlier, though, I most likely
would have never been born. And she signs and she signs the email Marianna,
and she says you can use my name, and then there's a PostScript.
Feel free to contact me if you need help with some of the pronunciations.
I know the town's name is a tough one and I couldn't figure out
a good way to phonetically transcript that for you. I think it's important to
say the town's name, though, as it's a real place and a true
story. However weird it sounds. And by the way, I really like
when you sound your opinion on the stories that you read, and I'm looking
forward forward to hearing what you think about this one. Thank you for your
awesome podcast. Okay, first, this is one of the best stories that
I think I've ever done. I get to go on other people's podcasts.
I don't. I don't really like going on them because I don't have much
to say. I'm not a very interesting person, and I don't I don't
know why people invite me on their podcasts. I think some of them think
that My channel has one hundred and seventy five hundred and eighty thousand subscribers,
so you know, in the storytelling world, it's it's probably a medium sized
channel, and I think they think that if they had me on, people
will flock in and it will build their channel up. But it never does.
It doesn't. Those kind of things really don't help. I go I
go on these podcasts, and the question I always get, what's your favorite
story, What is your favorite story that you've ever done? In My answer
is good grief. I've done so many it's hard to pick any of them.
But I'll remember this. When Marianna's story about town in Czechoslovakia, Czecho
Slovakia, we have troubles even saying the name of the country, and it's
very it's set all the time around here. But anyway, so much history
and she anyway, I sent her an email saying this is so good.
I want you to know. I'm gonna put it in a podcast, and
she wrote me back, and I want you all to know that Marianna,
this is her English is her fourth or fifth language. She probably speaks her
native language, plus several other European languages, French, German, I don't
know what else. And she lives in the United States now, so she
had to learn English as a language. And people who can speak so many
different languages, they have a knack for it. And I'm leading all up
to this for English to be her fourth or fifth language down that she's learned
in what that usually means is that's the fifth language she's learned. She did
a remarkable job writing this. I see a few things in the letter.
I did not edit this. I didn't do anything with this letter. But
I see a few things in this where grammar is used differently in other languages.
But this was I did not edit this one bit. I read it
word for word from start to finish, and I just thought this was a
great story. So it was very interesting. I'm glad, Marianna you got
to hear those stories and be that close to your grandmother, and what a
interesting history your family has had. And I hope you're enjoying it here in
the United States. We're glad to have people here that you guys are heroes.
I mean, you guys went through you know that Nazi occupation and the
Russians. People think that the United States won the Second War. We would
have never won it without the Russians. The Russians did most of the heavy
lifting, and they took most of the casualties. I don't know that the
Russians would have won it without us. We kept the Nazis occupied for a
long time with our invasion of Europe, but the Russians were once they got
a foothold and started pushing the Germans back out of Russia. They just they
never did quit until they got to Berlin, and Russia liberated Slovakia, Czechoslovakia
and her towns. And I know they appreciate what they did. So I'm
just rambling on. I just thought this was a really great story and I
wanted to share it with you. I think the story happens in Alabama.
Let's let's see what the man says. My name is Bo and I have
two short stories that are true. I'm not a writer, so feel free
to rewrite them as needed by Whi'm not rewriting a word. Man, this
is pretty good. I'm gonna read it just like it shows here. My
mike's about to fall off. I tighten this thing up all right now.
It's in there. Story number one. Several years back, I was a
member of a motorcycle club. I was on the way to a cookout being
thrown by one of the chapters in a neighboring state three hours from my home.
I was riding solo through somewhere near Tifton, Georgia, and I passed
an old, well kept farmhouse. Beside the farmhouse was a shed and an
empty lot. At first glance, I thought I saw an eight foot tall
grizzly bear statue made from wood, you know, the ones you would expect
to see outside a fancy ski lives or something like that. But then I
noticed wasn't a bear. It was a big foot. Keep in mind,
I'm still thinking statue or yard art. Anyhow, I go to the cookout,
and as would be expected with bikers, alcohol was involved and I ended
up sleeping in a recliner. The next morning, I headed home and I
thought to myself, I'm going to stop check out that bigfoot statue. I
remembered the approximate area and the road it was on, so I kept an
eye closely on my route. When I got to what I was sure was
the house, there was no statue. Did I see a bigfoot? Did
someone move the statue overnight? Those two questions will always linger in my head.
Story Number two. I grew up in southeast Alabama, but I moved
to South Carolina at the age of forty one just to try somewhere new and
to start over. Soon after moving to South Carolina, I discovered the Congaree
National Park. If you didn't know, the Congaree is a mix of old
growth pine forest and cypress swamps. So I did a little Google searching and
I read a story about in the seventies where a kid was temper temporarily kidnapped
by juvenile bigfoot. The two ended up playing hide and seek until ma'ma Bigfoot
said it was time to go home, and she pointed a human child in
the direction of safety. Google it if you'd like to read the actual story.
Well, my story took place on December twenty four, twenty twenty two.
It was a Christmas Eve and I hadn't been living in South Carolina very
long, so I didn't know many people. I decided to camp out for
Christmas, and the Bluff Campground was completely empty for the holiday. It was
just me and my Chihuahua, Scrappy. Sometime in the night I started hearing
codis in the distance. I didn't think it was a big deal. I
grew up in Alabama and I've seen and heard codies all my life. But
then they kept getting closer, and I knew that they were on the hunt
because they were yapping and yapping like crazy. Unsent my tent to shine the
flash and before I could stop him, Scrappy shot out of the tent.
I shined the flashlight to locate him, and I saw the eyeshine of the
whole pack of codes one hundred yards away, and my dumbass six pounds Chihuahba
running right at them. I'm still scrambling to try to get out of the
tent to catch Scrappy, and I hear this god awful scream howl growl come
from somewhere in the woods to my right. I froze, and Scrappy froze,
and best of all, the codies went from yipping and yapping to yelping
and running the opposite direction. I got ahold of my dog and I hid
in my tenth the rest of the night. I knew my truck was a
mile hike in the dark away. I did hear something moving in the woods
that night. It sounded like it was making wide circles around the entire campsite.
Once again. Was that a bigfoot? I think it was, and
he or she was looking out for me and my dog Scrappy. I have
more stories about the sets of eyes and the dark, but I need to
talk to my friend who was with me at the time to ask what he
remembered seeing. Thanks for the great stories, you rock, and then he
signs off. Steve Lily for president. Hell. Yes, Steve Lily for
president. That's who we need. Bo, thank you for this story.
This was awesome. I'd like to talk to you about MC life. I
have some quale. I need to do some research for Hook Johnson in my
Steve Lily series. I might email you back, or maybe maybe Bo,
you could email me and give me your phone number or something and I'll I'll
give you a call. I have some questions about that. Uh. There's
another guy I talked to who was actually a Hell's Angel. He I think
he lives in I think he lives in Virginia. Now he's he's older,
and he's he's not active in the in the club anymore. But he gave
me a little information. One thing he told me, he said, if
you right in Hook as an MC member, which he is, don't copy
the name of any MC club in this whole country. Well, I don't
know all the names of the motorcycle clubs in the country. So what if
I get it wrong? But I I had no intent of call it saying
that he was a member of the Hell's Angels chapter or Mongols chapter, outlawst
chapter in Memphis. But I had no intention of doing that. But what
if I just get it wrong. Maybe I just won't even give the name
of the MC club that he's in. But anyway, bo, if you
get a chance, you may an email it. Assuming you hear this.
Thank you for the story. This was great. I appreciate you, buddy.
This person doesn't give me permission to use your name. But I'm a
reader story. I recently discovered your channel and I enjoy listing late at night.
I just turned fifty. I'm a woman, and I enjoy hunting and
fishing and camping and hiking. Mouncle, who lives in Washington State, is
an avid hunter and has had a few bigfoot encounters. I enjoy listening to
other encounters. I have never seen one, and I honestly hope I never
do. And I don't know if I'd be excited for hunting season anymore after
I did. And I couldn't imagine not spending time in the woods that I
was listening to one of your best of six episodes tonight. One story caught
my attention. A woman driving to see a friend and she saw a little
person. I too, have seen one. It was thirty years ago.
No one has ever taken me serious when I tell them about it. I
really don't care. I know what I saw. I was living in a
rural area twenty miles from Athens, Georgia, with my husband at the time
and his ten year old daughter. My brother, who was sixteen years old,
also lived with us. We lived in a small trailer park consisting of
four other trailers, and the neighbors next to us had gotten this dog.
I felt terrible for that dog. They didn't even take care of their kids
very well, much less the dog. The dog was a full grown chow
and they chained that poor thing to the outside post of their porch. There
was no doghouse, there was no shade. They only had it for a
few days when it snapped the chain and it ran around the area loose.
They tried to catch it, but they never had any luck. But after
a week I would set out food for him and slowly coached the dog to
trust me. I would come home from work and he'd be sitting on my
back steps waiting for me. The neighbors one day noticed me sitting on my
steps petting the dog, and the dad walked over with a leash. He
asked me to put it on the dog, and I said, no,
you put it on. As he took a step closer to the dog,
the dog growled and bared its teeth at the guy. The guy was scared
and he jumped back and he said, well, I guess you can have
him. I named him Muffassa to the lion King. Mufassa loved me,
but he didn't care for anyone else. Around this time, we were in
the process of moving to a bigger house way out in the country. We
didn't have neighbors for miles, next to a cow pasture on one side,
there were woods on the other. My husband at the time wouldn't let me
keep Mufassa in the house full time. Mufassa scared him because he'd growled him.
Sometimes. He built him a nice, big enclosure with a big dog
house, and when I wasn't at work, though that dog was always by
my side, I'd bring him in the house and I'd bathe him in our
garden tub and he'd hang out until bedtime. Mufossa was okay with everyone as
long as I was there, but he followed me into every room and he
didn't want anyone else touching him. One night, everyone was sitting in the
living room and would laugh because every time I'd get up, Mufossi would follow
me. From the living room, you could walk into the dining room,
which went to the kitchen, and from there you could walk into the den
area and back into the living room. It made a big circle. So
I got up and walked around the circle a few times, and everyone was
having a laugh because Mufassa was following me. Shortly after sitting back down,
I was facing the den when I clearly saw a figure dart across the den
into the kitchen. I gasped, and I asked everyone else if they had
seen it. Well, everyone said they had seen something moved, but they
weren't looking directly at it. I jumped up to go see what it was.
Mufassa had seen it too, and he was scared. He wouldn't go
into the den or the kitchen. He wouldn't move from a spot, and
he was distressed, and he whined loudly and whimpered when I got up to
investigate. Well, after looking around, I didn't find anything, but I
know what I saw. It was seven inches tall, It was a little
man. It had on clothes, hat, and honestly, it looks similar
to a garden gnome figurine. I've had hamsters and pet rats as a teenager,
but it wasn't an animal. It was a little person. Mufasa's reaction
confirmed that to me. He chases raccoons and possums, and once he even
got into a cow pasture and chased the cow until the bull chased him back.
He wasn't scared of anything, but that dog was terrified. He never
again would go into that dinner kitchen and I never saw it again, and
neither did anyone else. The strangest thing I've ever seen. I never heard
anyone else ever talk about something like this until I heard it on your channel
tonight. Thank you, and she signs her name. Well, that's interesting.
I don't get many little people's stories, but they are quite intriguing.
I would say that I wonder what they are. I don't know anybody have
any comments on that. Feel free to leave a comment. All right,
here's an email from a gentleman who does not give me his name, and
that's just dandy. Here's what he writes. On December sixteen of twenty twenty,
I was thirty foot up a pine tree hunting slap dab in the middle
of Leaf River, WMA. And it was a second day of dog hunting
season. And I'm not a dog hunter. I'm a steel hunter. So
you have to go to the WMA unless you have a private land or private
lease. But that year I was not in the least. I was using
public land to hunt, so that I was basically getting away from the dog
hunters. When I say dog hunters, I'm talking about people who drive dogs
to kill deer. I've done it before when I was younger. I was
not a huge fan of it. But each to his own. I'll stop
right here and say, I can't stand I can't stand that, you know.
I guess it's fun for some people, but I don't get the sport
in it. I've also done it when I was a kid. My father
did it, my uncle's did it, and even back then, when I
was ten or eleven years old, I thought it was kind of stupid to
spend all that money on dogs when you can just put up a stand and
wait for a deer to walk by and kill it. I get. I
don't get the terrorizing the deer with the dogs. I don't have anything against
killing deer. I killed two or three every year, but running them with
dogs makes no sent to me. Probably made a few enemies with that statement,
but I agree with this man. Back to the story. I was
hunting a power line adjacent to a huge ryegrass field. We're talking two hundred
yards wide and about a thousand yards long, and are used to set up
and hunt behind it. Before this encounter, I don't think I believe in
bigfoot. It definitely was not on my mind, or maybe if I thought
something like that could exist to be a problem in the northwest Canada or Northwest.
I do remember seeing the Paterson Gimblin Fell when I was a young boy,
like in the early eighties, and they would show it on late night
shows and stuff like that. It was kind of like a freak show.
My mother and dad always said that it wasn't real. It was somebody in
a suit something like that. Well, my encounter was very long, probably
best of twenty or twenty five minutes before this thing finally took off, but
I got to see everything. And when I first saw him, he was
one hundred and fifty yards to the north side of the power line, and
when he finally spotted me, he walked straight to me thirty yards away.
These things are not what people think they are. It's a type of people.
These things have emotions. You can see it on their face. It
did a lot of human looking stuff, but it wasn't a human, if
that makes sense. I would love to talk to you about it one day.
I'm not very good at writing and stuff like that, but I'm better
at word of mouth, so if you'd like to contact me, and he
gives me his phone number. I live in de Iraville, Mississippi, and
I'm probably a mile and a half from the Gulf coast. But where I
was hunting was two counties up in Perry County, Mississippi, where this happened.
And I had something else happened to me this year. No visual this
time, just got a few tree knocks and whistles. Thank you very much,
cam kindness regards, And right there he does give me his name,
and I'm not going to say it, because he doesn't say I can use
it. But you could tell I didn't edit this. It's a little bit
confusing, and I understand some people are better at talking about it than writing
about it. But still you got the information. I thought it was a
good story. He got to see this thing for twenty to twenty five minutes,
and he believes that they act human, but they're not human. Got
to see facial expressions, all kinds of stuff. This is a rare sighting.
This is a lot of people don't get to see this kind of stuff.
But he says he'd like talk to me about it. If I can
get the time to do some more interviews. I might give this guy a
call. But I appreciate the email. It was a great story. Thank
you very much. This gentleman wants to be anonymous, and of course that's
no problem. He writes. I want to apologize in advance if this story
isn't very clear. The signs of an encounter didn't register to me at first.
The realization only hit me recently. I'm now twenty eight years old,
but in the summer of two thousand and six, when I was fifteen,
it was the age when this encounter took place. I lived in Yazoo County,
Mississippi my entire life. I grew up hunting and fishing and exploring the
woods on my parents property and the neighboring land owned by family friends. My
buddy and I had come across what I now recall as tree structures, some
built like four post tps, while others had an a frame design. It
was an odd thing to see in the middle of the woods. On the
day of the encounter, we had spent the morning fishing at his grandfather's place.
The fish weren't biting, so we ditched the idea and decided to walk
down to a creek just to see how far it went. When we were
two miles into our walk, we came across a small waterfall that had an
opening to a cove where we could see a sparse bed of leaves and pine
straw. We took a minute to catch our breath and then continued down the
creek. Now after a mile, we stopped on a ridge just to enjoy
the scenery. I don't know why I noticed this, but at that particular
moment, the woods seemed to go completely silent, like the Good Lord had
hit the mute button. Seconds later, we heard a gunshot three hundred yards
away, and it was followed by a screen that sounded like a man,
but with much more power and volume that I'd ever heard outside of a rock
singer bellowing through a wall of loud speakers. Tree branches cracked as if a
bulldozer was rolling through the woods at full speed. Our instinct was to run
all the way back to my buddy's grandmother's place, like the two frightened teenagers
we were. These days, I like to watch the sun go down over
the woods from my back porch and wonder just what was on out there while
I'm asleep in bed. And that's the end of the story. So it's
I don't know what to say about that story. Man, that's pretty cool.
They heard a shot and something screamed and came running through the woods like
a bulldozer. What could that have been? In Yazoo County, Mississippi,
there are bears down there. Maybe it could have been a bear. I
don't know, though, I don't know that a bear would scream that loud.
You will have to decide what you think this guy encountered. Thank you
for the story, mister anonymous. I really appreciate it. All right.
I think that's gonna wind it up. Thank you all for joining me on
this podcast. My podcasts have been kind of further apart than they have been
historically over the last five years. I know that I've explained that in the
last two or three podcasts. I'm not going to talk about it again.
So the people who are hanging with me, man, I love you.
I appreciate you. Anytime that I have away from this death, I spend
outside doing work in my yard and stuff that I've neglected over the last five
years, spending time with my family. So I appreciate you. I know
you understand that most people that are listing go, heck cuss, That's exactly
what I would do. But then there's some people who are mad. I
got an email from a lady saying she was unsubscribing and she is tired of
my excuses and she's leaving the farm. And I thought, damn, lady,
I don't work for you. I'm not your employee. I can do
whatever I want to do with this podcast. This thing will get back on
track when the weather turns, and I don't know, it'll probably take a
little while, but I just want to let you know, thank you,
and let you know that I appreciate you hanging with me. I ain't going
nowhere. I've been doing this for five years. I'm working on audio books
for the podcast, not for Audible. I'm working on audiobooks for the podcast.
I got all kinds of stuff played, just taking a little time to
spend outside. I'd rather be out side then sitting behind this desk. Now,
it's a fact, all right. I know the lady who unsubscribers going.
I don't have more excuses, more excuses, but it's not I'm just
telling you what I'm doing so you can get glad in the same shoes you
got, mad and lady. All right, thank you all for listening,
and we'll see you on the next one. And I'll have another one up
this week. Love you all, see you say