Speaker 1: Now one of your pudding. I got a string going
Speaker 1: on here, something just because my dog. Something killed your dog?
Speaker 1: My dog. We're flying through the air over the tree.
Speaker 1: I don't know.
Speaker 2: How it did it, Okay, Damn, I'm really confused.
Speaker 1: All I saw was my dog coming over the fence
Speaker 1: and he was dead.
Speaker 2: And once you hit the ground like, I didn't see
Speaker 2: any cars.
Speaker 1: All I saw was my dog coming over the fence. Sat,
Speaker 1: what are you putting? We got some wonder or something
Speaker 1: crawling around out here? Did you see what it was?
Speaker 1: Or was it was? Standing enough?
Speaker 2: I'm out here looking through the window now and I
Speaker 2: don't see anything. I don't want to go outside, Jesus quice.
Speaker 1: You bick Hello, get the Boddy out here?
Speaker 2: What quent on out there? I thought of a bench
Speaker 2: about tech forty nine?
Speaker 1: I don't know. Easy ann out there? Yeah, I'm walking
Speaker 1: right head.
Speaker 2: You're about to hear something different. These aren't your typical
Speaker 2: campfire tales. These are first hand accounts from law enforcement
Speaker 2: officers across America, men and women who took an oath
Speaker 2: to serve and protect. Officers trained to observe, document, and
Speaker 2: report facts. What you'll hear in these accounts challenges everything
Speaker 2: these officers thought they knew about the world. Each story
Speaker 2: comes from a different corner of our country, from the
Speaker 2: rain soaked forests of the Pacific Northwest to the frozen
Speaker 2: tundra of Alaska, from the ancient mountains of Appalachia to
Speaker 2: the deep swamps of Texas. These officers didn't seek out
Speaker 2: these encounters. They were just doing their jobs, responding to calls,
Speaker 2: investigating complaints, searching for missing persons. But what they found
Speaker 2: in the darkness beyond their headlights and flashlight beams changed
Speaker 2: them forever. They filed their reports, they documented the evidence,
Speaker 2: but the official records tell a different story. Bear sightings,
Speaker 2: equipment malfunctions, wandering hikers suffering from exposure. The truth got
Speaker 2: buried in bureaucracy and disbelief. Tonight they're breaking their silence.
Speaker 2: No last names, no badge numbers, just the truth about
Speaker 2: what lurks in the forgotten corners of America, About what
Speaker 2: watches from the tree line, About why some officers refuse
Speaker 2: to patrol certain areas after dark. Our first account takes
Speaker 2: us to the Pacific Northwest October twenty nineteen. Deputy Sheriff
Speaker 2: Marcus tells his story from Clallam County, Washington. I'd been
Speaker 2: with the Clallam County Sheriff's Department for twelve years when
Speaker 2: the call came in about the property on the logging
Speaker 2: road October twenty nineteen. The dispatcher said it was another
Speaker 2: wildlife complaint, third one in that week from the same family.
Speaker 2: Tom and Beth lived forty minutes outside Port Angelus, down
Speaker 2: a logging road that hadn't seen commercial traffic in two decades.
Speaker 2: Their nearest neighbor was eight miles away. The previous complaints
Speaker 2: had been vague, something large moving through their property at night,
Speaker 2: dogs going crazy, their chicken coop destroyed, not just damaged,
Speaker 2: but torn apart. The two by fours snapped like matchsticks.
Speaker 2: I'd written it up as a bear, told them to
Speaker 2: secure their garbage, and figured that would be the end
Speaker 2: of it. This time was different. Tom met me at
Speaker 2: the end of their driveway, and I'd never seen him
Speaker 2: like that. The man was a logger for thirty years,
Speaker 2: built like a refrigerator, and his hands were shaking, not trembling,
Speaker 2: actually shaking. He walked me around to the back of
Speaker 2: their property without saying much, just pointing at things. The
Speaker 2: smell hit me first, like a wet dog rolled in
Speaker 2: something dead but stronger. Made my eyes water. Their shed
Speaker 2: door was ripped off, not pride open or broken, ripped
Speaker 2: clean off and thrown twenty feet into the woods. The
Speaker 2: metal hinges were twisted like someone had used pliers on them,
Speaker 2: except the force required would have been enormous. Inside the shed,
Speaker 2: Tom's ATV was flipped upside down. That's a seven hundred
Speaker 2: pound machine. I started taking photos measurements, standard procedure, even
Speaker 2: though I had no idea what I was documenting. That's
Speaker 2: when Beth came out of the house and asked if
Speaker 2: I wanted to see the handprints. I thought she meant
Speaker 2: fingerprints evidence of human vandalism. She led me to their
Speaker 2: back porch, where they had a chest freezer. On the
Speaker 2: white metal lid were two handprints and what looked like
Speaker 2: mud and grease. The span from thumb to pinky was
Speaker 2: sixteen inches, the palm was twice the width of mine.
Speaker 2: But what shocked me were the dermal ridges, clear as day,
Speaker 2: like any print I'd ever lifted, but the proportions were
Speaker 2: all off. I called it in, requested someone from Fishing Wildlife.
Speaker 2: All waiting, Tom finally started talking two weeks ago, their daughter, Sarah,
Speaker 2: home from college, had been sitting on the back deck
Speaker 2: around sunset.
Speaker 1: She saw what she thought.
Speaker 2: Was a person at the tree line, about one hundred
Speaker 2: yards out, tall, covered in dark hair, just standing there
Speaker 2: watching the house. When she called out, it turned and
Speaker 2: walked into the forest, walked, not ran upright on two
Speaker 2: legs with arms swinging at its sides. Since then, they'd
Speaker 2: been finding tracks. Tom showed me three sets he'd preserved
Speaker 2: by putting buckets over them. Eighteen inches long, five toes clear,
Speaker 2: mid tarsl break. The stride length was almost six feet.
Speaker 2: I'd investigated hundreds of wildlife incidents, tracked bears, cougars, even
Speaker 2: a few escaped exotic animals from private collections. These prints
Speaker 2: didn't match anything I knew. My backup arrived around seven
Speaker 2: that evening. Deputy Jim took one look at the prince
Speaker 2: and the shed and radioed for additional units. We decided
Speaker 2: to do a perimeter search before dark. Jim took the
Speaker 2: north side of the property. I took the south, standard
Speaker 2: search pattern, staying within side of the house. About three
Speaker 2: hundred yards into the woods, I found a deer carcass,
Speaker 2: fresh kill maybe two days old.
Speaker 1: What struck me was.
Speaker 2: How it was positioned, laid out neat, almost respectful, with
Speaker 2: the choice portions removed, with what looked like clean tears,
Speaker 2: not the ragged marks of claws or teeth. The bones
Speaker 2: weren't gnawed, they were cracked open for marrow. Something with
Speaker 2: hands had done this. I marked the location and continued.
Speaker 2: The forest was too quiet. Anyone who spends time in
Speaker 2: the woods knows that silence when all the birds and
Speaker 2: insects stop at once. I'd felt it before when predators
Speaker 2: were near, but this was heavier. Somehow I found myself
Speaker 2: checking over my shoulder every few steps. Near a creek bed,
Speaker 2: I discovered what looked like a shelter. Branches woven together
Speaker 2: against a massive cedar, creating a lean to about eight
Speaker 2: feet tall and twelve feet wide. Inside were matted ferns
Speaker 2: like bedding. The smell was overwhelming, that same wet dog
Speaker 2: and death stench. I photographed everything, my hands steady now
Speaker 2: from pure adrenaline. That's when I heard it. A whistle,
Speaker 2: long and low, coming from uphill. Not a bird. I've
Speaker 2: hunted these woods since I was a kid, and I
Speaker 2: know every bird call in the Pacific Northwest. This was different,
Speaker 2: had a quality to it, almost like language. Then another
Speaker 2: whistle answered from the opposite ridge. They were communicating. I
Speaker 2: backed out of the shelter and started toward the house,
Speaker 2: not running, but moving with purpose. The whistles continued, at
Speaker 2: least three distinct sources, now triangulating around my position. About
Speaker 2: halfway back, a rock landed ten feet in front of me,
Speaker 2: baseball sized, thrown from somewhere uphill. Then another closer, not random, deliberate.
Speaker 1: They were hurting me.
Speaker 2: I made it back to the house as darkness fell.
Speaker 2: Jim was already there with two State patrol officers who'd
Speaker 2: responded to our call for assistance. We compared notes. Jim
Speaker 2: had found similar tracks, another shelter and what appeared to
Speaker 2: be a cache of salmon heads near the creek fresh
Speaker 2: Salmon in October, fifteen miles from the nearest run. We
Speaker 2: stationed ourselves around the house that night, four officers each
Speaker 2: taking a corner. The family stayed inside, lights on. Around midnight,
Speaker 2: the activity started knocking sounds, wood on wood, rhythmic from
Speaker 2: multiple directions. Then the screams, I've heard mountain lions, foxes, owls,
Speaker 2: all the animals that make sounds that can raise the
Speaker 2: hair on your neck. This wasn't any of them. It
Speaker 2: was primate like, but deeper, longer, with a volume that
Speaker 2: seemed impossible for lungs to produce. At two in the morning,
Speaker 2: Jim's thermal scope picked up movement three heat signatures at
Speaker 2: the tree line, standing upright at least seven feet tall.
Speaker 2: They stayed there for twenty minutes, just outside the range
Speaker 2: of the house lights, swaying slightly. Then they turned and
Speaker 2: walked back into the forest. Walked like Tom had said, upright, deliberate, unhurried.
Speaker 2: We filed our reports. Fish and Wildlife sent a biologist
Speaker 2: who took plaster casts.
Speaker 1: And hair samples.
Speaker 2: The hair came back as unknown primate. The investigation was
Speaker 2: quietly closed, labeled as bear activity. The family moved two
Speaker 2: months later. I still patrol that area. The logging road
Speaker 2: is overgrown now and the house stands empty. Sometimes I
Speaker 2: stop at the old driveway, engine idling and listen. Once,
Speaker 2: just once, I heard that whistle again, distant but unmistakable.
Speaker 2: I drove away and didn't look back. I know what
Speaker 2: I saw, what we all saw. The evidence was clear, documented, photographed.
Speaker 2: But some things don't fit into incident reports. Some things
Speaker 2: challenge everything you thought you knew.
Speaker 1: About the world.
Speaker 2: So you file it away, mark it as resolved, and
Speaker 2: try not to think about those heat signatures swaying at
Speaker 2: the tree line, or wonder what was watching us watch them?
Speaker 2: That was Deputy Marcus from Washington State. Our next account
Speaker 2: takes us three thousand miles across the country to the
Speaker 2: mountains of eastern Kentucky. State Trooper Daniel shares what happened
Speaker 2: on a foggy November night in twenty eighteen on Highway
Speaker 2: twenty three. Three years on highway patrol in eastern Kentucky
Speaker 2: teaches you to expect certain things. Drunk drivers, meth labs,
Speaker 2: the occasional marijuana grow hidden in the hollers. You don't
Speaker 2: expect to question your sanity. At two forty seven am
Speaker 2: on a Tuesday in November, I was running radar on
Speaker 2: Highway twenty three near the Virginia border, parked in a
Speaker 2: cutout overlooking a long straightaway. The road wind through the
Speaker 2: mountains there, following the old coal seams, mostly empty at
Speaker 2: night except for long haul truckers. Light fog was settling
Speaker 2: in the valleys, but visibility was still decent. The first
Speaker 2: odd thing was the smell. My window was cracked, and
Speaker 2: suddenly this stench rolled in, like a barn that hadn't
Speaker 2: been mucked in months, mixed with rotting meat. I rolled
Speaker 2: the window up, figuring a trucker had hit a deer
Speaker 2: somewhere upwind, but the smell got stronger even with the
Speaker 2: windows sealed. Then my radar went haywire. The display started
Speaker 2: jumping forty five miles per hour, one hundred, twenty miles
Speaker 2: per hour, eight miles.
Speaker 1: Per hour all over the place.
Speaker 2: I'd seen interference before from power lines or weather, but
Speaker 2: nothing like this. The unit was less than a year old,
Speaker 2: state of the art equipment. I turned it off and
Speaker 2: back on, same problem. My radio started crackling with static,
Speaker 2: not normal static, rhythmic, almost pulsing. I tried calling dispatch
Speaker 2: to report the equipment malfunction, but couldn't get through. The
Speaker 2: static had a pattern to it, like breathing, deep, slow breathing.
Speaker 2: That's when I saw the eye shine in my side mirror.
Speaker 2: Two amber points of light about eight feet off the
Speaker 2: ground at the woodline behind my cruiser. Too high for
Speaker 2: a deer, wrong color for a bear. They didn't move,
Speaker 2: just stayed fixed on my vehicle. I turned on my
Speaker 2: spotlight and swiveled it toward the trees. Nothing there but
Speaker 2: the underbrush was moving, branches swaying like something large had
Speaker 2: just passed through. I stepped out of the cruiser, hand
Speaker 2: on my duty weapon and walked toward the tree line
Speaker 2: with my flashlight. The smell was overwhelming, now making my
Speaker 2: eyes water. About ten feet into the woods, I found
Speaker 2: a footprint massive. My size thirteen boot looked small next
Speaker 2: to it, five toes, clear as day, with what looked
Speaker 2: like a mid tarsl break. The woods around me were
Speaker 2: dead island, no insects, no birds, nothing, just my breathing
Speaker 2: and heartbeat. A branch snapped somewhere to my left, then
Speaker 2: another to my right. I was being flanked. Twenty years
Speaker 2: of tactical training kicked in and I backed toward my cruiser,
Speaker 2: flashlight sweeping side to side. That's when I saw it
Speaker 2: clearly for the first time. It stepped out from behind
Speaker 2: a massive oak, maybe thirty yards away, at least eight
Speaker 2: feet tall, covered in reddish brown hair, walking on two
Speaker 2: legs like a man, but with a gait that was
Speaker 2: somehow different, longer arms, broader shoulders, head that seemed to
Speaker 2: sit directly on its shoulders without much of a neck.
Speaker 2: It looked at me, not past me or through me,
Speaker 2: but directly at me, with intelligence in its eyes. We
Speaker 2: stood there for maybe five seconds, though it felt like
Speaker 2: an hour. Then it turned its head slightly, like it
Speaker 2: was listening to something, and took three enormous strides across
Speaker 2: the clearing and disappeared into the darkness. The way it
Speaker 2: moved was fluid, powerful, completely silent despite its size. I
Speaker 2: got back to my cruiser and locked the doors. My
Speaker 2: hands were shaking so bad I could barely hold the
Speaker 2: radio mic. The static had cleared and I called dispatch,
Speaker 2: reported a large animal crossing near my position. They acknowledged,
Speaker 2: asked if I needed animal control.
Speaker 1: I said no.
Speaker 2: For the next hour, I sat there, engine running, every
Speaker 2: light on my vehicle activated. Around four am, rock started
Speaker 2: hitting my cruiser, not thrown hard enough to damage anything,
Speaker 2: but deliberate pebbles at first, then larger stones. They came
Speaker 2: from different directions. Whoever or whatever was throwing them was
Speaker 2: moving around my position. Then came the howl started low,
Speaker 2: rose to a pitch that made my teeth ache. Held
Speaker 2: for maybe twenty seconds before trailing off. It was answered
Speaker 2: by another howl from across the highway, then another from
Speaker 2: up the mountain, at least three of them communicating, and
Speaker 2: stay tuned for more sasquatch Ota see, We'll be right back.
Speaker 2: After these messages, a semi truck came around the bend,
Speaker 2: air horn blaring. The driver later reported to dispatch that
Speaker 2: he'd nearly hit something crossing the road. Said it looked
Speaker 2: like a huge man in a gilly suit, but moving
Speaker 2: too fast, taking strides that were impossible. Dawn came slowly
Speaker 2: as the sky lightened, the activity stopped. No more rocks,
Speaker 2: no more howls, the smell faded. I finally worked up
Speaker 2: the courage to get out and look around. Found dozens
Speaker 2: of prints, some clear enough to cast. Found where something
Speaker 2: had been watching me from various positions. The grass matted down,
Speaker 2: branches broken at the eight foot level. I took photos
Speaker 2: of everything, wrote a detailed report. My sergeant read it,
Speaker 2: looked at the photos, and told me to file it
Speaker 2: as a bear. When I protested, he took me aside
Speaker 2: and said three other troopers had reported similar encounters in
Speaker 2: the past five years, all filed as bears. He said
Speaker 2: some things were better left alone, and if I wanted
Speaker 2: to keep working these mountains. I'd learn when to look
Speaker 2: the other way, but I couldn't.
Speaker 1: Let it go.
Speaker 2: I researched old reports, newspaper archives, found dozens of sightings
Speaker 2: going back to the eighteen hundreds, coal miners refusing to
Speaker 2: work certain shafts because of the wild men in the tunnels,
Speaker 2: Cherokee stories about the nun Yanui, the giant hairy beings
Speaker 2: that lived in the mountains before humans came. I still
Speaker 2: work Highway twenty three, still see things sometimes, shadows crossing
Speaker 2: the road, too fast to be human, too upright to
Speaker 2: be bear eye shine at the wrong height, prince after
Speaker 2: rain that I don't investigate anymore. Other troopers know too,
Speaker 2: we just don't talk about it. There's an unspoken understanding
Speaker 2: that some things in these mountains are beyond our jurisdiction.
Speaker 2: Last month, a rookie reported a suspicious person near the
Speaker 2: same spot where I'd had my encounter. I was first
Speaker 2: to respond. Found him, white faced, sitting in his cruiser
Speaker 2: with the doors locked. He'd seen it too. I told
Speaker 2: him it was a bear, helped him write the report
Speaker 2: that way. He transferred to Lexington three weeks later. The
Speaker 2: mountains keep their secrets. We keep ours too. From State
Speaker 2: Trooper Daniel's encounter in Kentucky, we move west to northern California.
Speaker 2: August twenty twenty one, Park Ranger Deputy Sarah tells us
Speaker 2: about a search and rescue operation in the Shasta Trinity
Speaker 2: National Forest that revealed more than just missing hikers. Search
Speaker 2: and rescue operations in the Shasta Trinity Wilderness are never routine,
Speaker 2: but the one in August twenty twenty one changed how
Speaker 2: I view these forests forever. A family of four had
Speaker 2: gone missing near Lost River Trail. Parents and two teenage
Speaker 2: kids experienced hikers. According to their permit APPT application, they
Speaker 2: were three days overdue. I'd been a law enforcement ranger
Speaker 2: for six years, worked dozens of SAAR operations. This one
Speaker 2: felt different from the start. Their car was at the trailhead, undisturbed,
Speaker 2: no signs of struggle, equipment failure, or medical emergency. They
Speaker 2: just vanished somewhere along twelve miles of well marked trail.
Speaker 2: We deployed two ground teams and a helicopter. I led
Speaker 2: Alpha team along the main trail while Bravo team searched
Speaker 2: the connecting spurs. The first day, we found their camp
Speaker 2: about four miles in tents still standing, sleeping bags, laid
Speaker 2: out food in the bear canister. Their packs were there,
Speaker 2: water bottles full. It looked like they'd stepped away for
Speaker 2: a moment and never came back. The strange part was
Speaker 2: the condition of the camp. No animal disturbance at all.
Speaker 2: In thirty years of wilderness work, I'd never seen predators
Speaker 2: ignore an abandoned camp with food. Even the granola bars
Speaker 2: and the tent pockets were untouched. But around the perimeter
Speaker 2: we found odd impressions in the pine duff, huge barefoot prints,
Speaker 2: some overlapping, like something had circled the camp repeatedly. Radio
Speaker 2: communication was spotty, which isn't unusual in these canyons, but
Speaker 2: the static had a quality i'd never heard, almost vocalized
Speaker 2: like whispers, just below the range of understanding. Our GPS
Speaker 2: units kept losing satellite lock, spinning uselessly. On day two,
Speaker 2: we found the father's cell phone near a creek, screen
Speaker 2: shattered but still functional. The last video on it was ominous,
Speaker 2: to say the least, shaky footage of the forest at dusk,
Speaker 2: the kid's voice saying, Mom, there's something out there, then
Speaker 2: a dark shape passing between trees.
Speaker 1: In the background.
Speaker 2: The shape was upright, massive, moving with purpose. The video
Speaker 2: cut off abruptly. We expanded the search zone. I took
Speaker 2: two volunteers and pushed deeper into the drainage system where
Speaker 2: the phone was found. The forest changed there, old growth,
Speaker 2: trees so large that three people couldn't wrap their arms
Speaker 2: around them. The canopy was so thick it felt like
Speaker 2: twilight at noon, and quiet, that oppressive quiet that makes
Speaker 2: you whisper without knowing why. We found the first sign
Speaker 2: of the family near a rock out cropping. The mother's
Speaker 2: jacket neatly folded and placed on a boulder, no tears,
Speaker 2: no blood, just carefully set down, like she decided she
Speaker 2: didn't need it anymore. Fifty yards away, we found one
Speaker 2: of the teenager's boots, just one, standing upright in the
Speaker 2: middle of the trail. That's when we started finding the structures.
Speaker 2: Branches woven together in complex patterns, forming corridors and shelters,
Speaker 2: not random deadfall, deliberate construction that would have taken tremendous
Speaker 2: strength to bend and weave those thick limbs. Inside one shelter,
Speaker 2: we found the family's water bottles arranged in a perfect circle.
Speaker 2: The volunteers were getting spooked hell. I was spooked, but
Speaker 2: we had a job to do. We followed what looked
Speaker 2: like a game trail deeper into the canyon. The smell
Speaker 2: started there, musky, overwhelming, like a zoo exhibit, but wilder.
Speaker 2: Fresh scat along the trail, massive piles that didn't match
Speaker 2: any animal. I knew the lab would later classify it
Speaker 2: as unknown primate. We heard them before we saw them,
Speaker 2: not the family, something else. Wood knocks echoing through the canyon,
Speaker 2: clear patterns like Morse code. Then movement in our peripheral vision,
Speaker 2: always just out of clear sight, something paralleling us through
Speaker 2: the trees, staying about fifty yards out, matching our pace perfectly.
Speaker 2: I made the call to return to base camp. As
Speaker 2: we turned back, we heard a child crying somewhere uphill.
Speaker 2: We called out, identified ourselves, but the crying stopped immediately.
Speaker 2: Then it started again from a completely different direction. The
Speaker 2: sound was off. It was almost too perfect, like a recording,
Speaker 2: like something mimicking a child's cry. That night at base camp,
Speaker 2: things got worse. Rocks pelted our tents from the darkness,
Speaker 2: not violently, but consistently methodically. Our motion sensors kept triggering,
Speaker 2: but the thermal imaging showed nothing. At three am, something
Speaker 2: walked through camp, bipedal, heavy enough to shake the ground
Speaker 2: slightly with each step. It stopped at each tent, and
Speaker 2: I could hear breathing, deep, measured breathing just outside the
Speaker 2: nylon wall. Nobody moved, nobody spoke. It circled the camp
Speaker 2: three times before disappearing. Day three, the helicopter pilot reported
Speaker 2: seeing the family. They were walking single file along a
Speaker 2: ridge two valleys over, moving steadily, but when we reached
Speaker 2: the coordinates nothing. The pilot swore he'd seen them clearly,
Speaker 2: said they looked dazed but uninjured, following something large and
Speaker 2: dark that stayed just inside the tree line. We finally
Speaker 2: found them on day four. They were sitting in a
Speaker 2: clearing five miles from their original camp, arranged in a circle,
Speaker 2: holding hands, alive, unharmed but completely unresponsive. Their eyes were
Speaker 2: open but unfocused. They didn't react to their names, to touch,
Speaker 2: to light in their eyes. They were completely catatonic. The
Speaker 2: medical evacuation was surreal. As we loaded them into the helicopter,
Speaker 2: the forest erupted with wood knocks and howls from every direction.
Speaker 2: The pilot later said he saw dozens of heat signatures.
Speaker 2: On thermal standing at the tree line watching us leave.
Speaker 2: The family recovered physically within days, but they had no
Speaker 2: memory of the missing four days. The youngest, a fourteen
Speaker 2: year old boy, eventually started having dreams. He'd wake screaming
Speaker 2: about the tall people who took them to show them
Speaker 2: something important, something about the forest, dying, about humans not listening.
Speaker 2: His parents insisted it was alma induced hallucination. I went
Speaker 2: back once alone, against regulations, left my radio, my GPS,
Speaker 2: my weapon, just walked into that same drainage with a
Speaker 2: digital recorder and an open mind. They were there watching,
Speaker 2: I could feel them. I sat on a log and waited.
Speaker 2: After an hour, one emerged from the trees about forty
Speaker 2: yards away. Female, I think based on the body shape,
Speaker 2: seven feet tall, covered in auburn hair, with eyes that
Speaker 2: held more intelligence than any animal I've ever encountered. She
Speaker 2: looked at me for a long moment, then turned and
Speaker 2: walked away. I filed my report Search and rescue, successful
Speaker 2: recovery victims suffering from exposure induced delirium. Case closed. But
Speaker 2: I know what I saw, what we all saw. They're
Speaker 2: out there, have been out there longer than us, and
Speaker 2: sometimes for reasons we don't understand they interact with our world.
Speaker 1: I still work the the forests.
Speaker 2: But now I know we're not alone out here, and
Speaker 2: I know they're watching, always watching, keeping their own council
Speaker 2: in the deep places where humans rarely go. I leave
Speaker 2: them alone, They leave me alone. It's an understanding. Some
Speaker 2: mysteries are meant to stay mysterious. That was Ranger Sarah
Speaker 2: from California. Our next encounter takes us to the frozen
Speaker 2: north Michigan's Upper Peninsula. November twenty twenty. Deputy Marcus shares
Speaker 2: his experience with abandoned copper minds and what still lives
Speaker 2: in the darkness below. November in Michigan's Upper Peninsula is brutal,
Speaker 2: the kind of cold that makes your lungs hurt, Snow
Speaker 2: that comes sideways off Lake Superior. I've been dealing with
Speaker 2: a string of vandalism reports near the old copper mining
Speaker 2: sites outside Calumet. Abandoned buildings, damaged, heavy equipment, moved, trail cameras, destroyed.
Speaker 2: The mining company wanted answers. It was my seventh year
Speaker 2: as a deputy in Houghton County. Thought I'd seen everything
Speaker 2: the up could throw at me. Meth labs and hunting camps,
Speaker 2: copper thieves and the old mines, even a few sovereign
Speaker 2: citizens holding up in the woods.
Speaker 1: This was different.
Speaker 2: The first scene was at the Quincy Mines abandoned shaft house.
Speaker 2: The steel door, thick as my fist and secured with
Speaker 2: industrial padlocks, was bent outward like something had pushed from
Speaker 2: the inside. The padlocks were snapped, not cut inside. Hundred
Speaker 2: pounds ore carts were stacked like toys. The mind company's
Speaker 2: security estimated it would take a crew with heavy equipment
Speaker 2: hours to move those carts. This was done overnight in silence.
Speaker 2: Trail cameras in the area were destroyed, but one partially
Speaker 2: damaged unit still had a memory card. The footage showed
Speaker 2: a dark mass approaching at two fifteen am. The figure
Speaker 2: was enormous, walking upright. The camera was mounted eight feet
Speaker 2: high and this thing looked directly into it at eye
Speaker 2: level before the feed cut out out. The last frame
Speaker 2: showed a hand reaching for the camera, massive covered in
Speaker 2: dark hair with opposable thumbs. Local Jibue elders weren't surprised
Speaker 2: when I asked around. They had stories about the wind
Speaker 2: to go, but also about something else. The old people
Speaker 2: of the woods who were here before anyone. They said
Speaker 2: the abandoned mines had disturbed things better left alone, opened
Speaker 2: passages that should have stayed closed. I started patrolling the
Speaker 2: mining sites at night. The company had pulled their security
Speaker 2: after two guards quit without explanation, just me and my
Speaker 2: cruiser driving the forest roads between shaft houses and processing
Speaker 2: plants that had been dead for fifty years. Two weeks
Speaker 2: into the investigation, I got a call about someone inside
Speaker 2: the Champion mine buildings. Arrived to find the chain link
Speaker 2: fence peeled back like aluminum foil. Inside the main building,
Speaker 2: I found tracks in the dust, barefoot human like, but
Speaker 2: much larger than any foot I'd ever seen, with thee
Speaker 2: that covered eight feet. I followed the tracks through the building,
Speaker 2: passed rusted machinery and collapsed conveyors. They led to an
Speaker 2: old ventilation shaft that connected to the mine proper. The
Speaker 2: grate covering it was torn away. Fresh scratches on the
Speaker 2: walls showed something large had gone down. I called for
Speaker 2: backup and waited an hour. No response. Radio dead, cell
Speaker 2: phone showed no signal, though I'd had three bars when
Speaker 2: I arrived. The temperature was dropping fast, maybe ten below already,
Speaker 2: but I kept sweating feeling. Watched a sound from the shaft,
Speaker 2: rocks falling, echoing up from deep underground, then breathing, deep
Speaker 2: rhythmic breathing that seemed to come from the earth itself.
Speaker 2: I backed away from the shaft, and that's when I
Speaker 2: saw it standing in the doorway i'd entered through. Nine
Speaker 2: feet tall, easy, covered in dark brown hair except for
Speaker 2: its face, which was almost human but not quite. The
Speaker 2: brow ridge was pronounced, the jaw massive. Its eyes reflected
Speaker 2: my flashlight beam like a nocturnal animal's. We stared at
Speaker 2: each other for a few short seconds. It made a sound,
Speaker 2: not quite speech, not quite animal, a low rumble that
Speaker 2: I felt in my chest. Then it turned sideways to
Speaker 2: fit through the doorway and disappeared into the night. The
Speaker 2: ease with which it moved, the casual display of size
Speaker 2: and power, made me realize how vulnerable I was. I
Speaker 2: ran to my cruiser. As I started the engine, something
Speaker 2: hit the roof hard enough to dent it a rock
Speaker 2: the size of a bowling ball.
Speaker 1: Then another hit the hood.
Speaker 2: I drove out of there without looking back, rocks pelting
Speaker 2: the vehicle until I reached the main road. The next morning,
Speaker 2: I returned with another unit. We found my tire tracks,
Speaker 2: the damage fence, the footprints in the building. We expanded
Speaker 2: the investigation found seventeen different sites with similar damage over
Speaker 2: a forty mile rati always the same pattern. Incredible displays
Speaker 2: of strength, intelligence in how things were moved or manipulated,
Speaker 2: and those massive footprints. Stay tuned for more sasquatch ott
Speaker 2: to see, We'll be right back. After these messages, hair
Speaker 2: samples came back as contaminated or inconclusive. Plaster casts of
Speaker 2: the prints were lost in transit to the state lab.
Speaker 2: I started researching on my own time. Found reports going
Speaker 2: back to the eighteen hundreds, miners refusing to work certain
Speaker 2: shafts because of the wild men underground. A nineteen thirteen
Speaker 2: newspaper article about a giant hairy man seen near the
Speaker 2: Calumet and Hecla mines, a nineteen sixty seven state police
Speaker 2: report about unknown individuals living in the abandoned mine systems.
Speaker 2: Then I met Tom, a retired miner in his eighties.
Speaker 2: After a few beers, he told me about the summer
Speaker 2: of nineteen seventy one. He and five other minds were
Speaker 2: working a deep shaft when they broke through into a
Speaker 2: natural cavern. Inside they found things tools made from copper
Speaker 2: and stone, pictographs on the walls, and fresh footprints. Management
Speaker 2: sealed the cavern immediately threatened the miners with their jobs
Speaker 2: if they talked. Tom believed there was a whole network
Speaker 2: of natural caves connected to the mines, and something had
Speaker 2: been living in them long before humans started digging. He
Speaker 2: thought the mining operations had forced them to the surface,
Speaker 2: into our world. The vandalism stopped that winter abruptly, no explanation.
Speaker 2: The mining company quietly increased security and installed motion activated
Speaker 2: lights everywhere.
Speaker 1: They also sealed.
Speaker 2: Every shaft entrance with reinforced concrete way beyond what was
Speaker 2: needed for safety. But I still get calls hunters seeing
Speaker 2: something walking upright through the deep woods, snowmobilers finding tracks
Speaker 2: crossing trails where no human could walk without snowshoes, strange
Speaker 2: howls echoing off the cliffs along Superior. Last spring, I
Speaker 2: was fishing a remote stream near the old cliff mine.
Speaker 2: Found a shelter built from trees woven together with incredible skill.
Speaker 2: Inside were bones, deer, rabbit fish, arranged almost ceremonially, and
Speaker 2: on a flat rock, a piece of native copper hammered
Speaker 2: into a rough tool shape, fresh work, the hammer marks
Speaker 2: still bright. I left it there, didn't report it. Some
Speaker 2: things the modern world doesn't need to know. The forest
Speaker 2: keeps its secrets, the mines hold their mysteries, and we
Speaker 2: pretend we're alone out here in the north Woods. But
Speaker 2: on cold nights, when the aurora dances and the wolves
Speaker 2: are silent, I know better. They're out there, have always
Speaker 2: been out there, living in the spaces between our world
Speaker 2: and something older. For our next story, we traveled to
Speaker 2: one of the most remote places in North America, the
Speaker 2: Dalton Highway in northern Alaska. February twenty nineteen. State Trooper
Speaker 2: Robert shares his encounter in a place where the Arctic
Speaker 2: holds ancient secrets. The Dalton Highway in February is about
Speaker 2: as remote as you can get and still be in America,
Speaker 2: five hundred miles of ice and wind between Fairbanks and
Speaker 2: dead Horse. Mostly truckers hauling equipment.
Speaker 1: To the oil fields.
Speaker 2: I'd been stationed in Coldfoot for three years, one of
Speaker 2: a handful of troopers covering an area of the size
Speaker 2: of several states. The call came in at one am
Speaker 2: from a trucker named Carl. He was pulled over at
Speaker 2: mile two thirty five. Said he'd hit something but couldn't
Speaker 2: find a body. Said it was large, walked on two
Speaker 2: legs and disappeared into the storm. Temperature was forty below,
Speaker 2: winds gusting to fifty. Nothing could survive exposed out there
Speaker 2: for long. I found Karl's rig two hours later, hazards
Speaker 2: still flashing. The front bumper was damaged, headlights shattered. Blood
Speaker 2: on the grill, but not much. Carl was shaken, kept
Speaker 2: saying it stood up after he hit it and walked away.
Speaker 2: I figured he'd clipped a cariboo and the weather was
Speaker 2: playing tricks on him. Then I saw the handprint on
Speaker 2: his hood, blood partially frozen, but clearly a hand, five fingers,
Speaker 2: a posable thumb, but massive. The span was incredible, and
Speaker 2: in the blood visible dermal ridges. Fingerprints essentially, but from
Speaker 2: something that wasn't quite human. I followed the blood trail
Speaker 2: off the road. The wind was brutal, but I could
Speaker 2: see impressions in the snow, bipedal long stride heading into
Speaker 2: the tundra. After fifty yards, the trail disappeared, not covered
Speaker 2: by snow, just stopped, like whatever was bleeding had simply vanished.
Speaker 2: Back at Carl's truck, I took photos, scraped blood samples.
Speaker 2: The trucker's dash cam had caught something through the blowing snow,
Speaker 2: A dark figure crossing the road upright, at least seven
Speaker 2: feet tall, moving with purpose. The impact was at maybe
Speaker 2: fifteen miles per hour, enough to knock it down but
Speaker 2: not kill anything that size. The figure got up immediately
Speaker 2: and strode off. I called it in as a vehicle
Speaker 2: wildlife collision, but kept investigating. The blood samples went to
Speaker 2: a friend at the University of Alaska. Came back as
Speaker 2: unknown primate, closest match to human, but with significant genetic variations.
Speaker 2: Two weeks later, pipeline workers reported someone vandalizing equipment near
Speaker 2: pump Station five. Security footage showed a figure approaching at night,
Speaker 2: examining the machinery, then bending a steel maintenance ladder like
Speaker 2: it was aluminum. The company wanted answers. I drove out
Speaker 2: during a break in the weather. Found tracks everywhere in
Speaker 2: the snow, around the buildings on the frozen river nearby.
Speaker 2: Cast one in dental stone eighteen inches long. Clear tow
Speaker 2: impressions found where something had been watching the station from
Speaker 2: a hill overlooking the complex. The snow was compressed in
Speaker 2: a body shape, like it had been lying pro observing.
Speaker 2: The workers were nervous. They'd been hearing things at night,
Speaker 2: wood knocks, which shouldn't exist because there are no trees
Speaker 2: for miles, rocks hitting the buildings. One welder swore he
Speaker 2: saw a face at his window on the second floor.
Speaker 2: Another found the station's emergency generator, weighing eight hundred pounds,
Speaker 2: moved ten feet from its pad. I started interviewing indigenous
Speaker 2: elders in the area. The Inupiate had stories about the Tornarsuk,
Speaker 2: powerful beings that lived in the mountains in tundra. They
Speaker 2: weren't quite spirits, weren't quite flesh, but something between. The
Speaker 2: elders weren't surprised by my questions. One said, these beings
Speaker 2: had always been here, were the true inhabitants.
Speaker 1: Of the Arctic. We were just visitors they tolerated.
Speaker 2: In March, I had my own encounter, responding to a
Speaker 2: jackknifed semi middle of the night blizzard conditions. As I
Speaker 2: set up flares, I felt watched that primitive feeling that
Speaker 2: makes your hair stand up. I turned and saw eyes
Speaker 2: shine about thirty yards away. Too high to be a
Speaker 2: wolf or bear. I hit it with my spotlight. The
Speaker 2: figure didn't run. It stood there, massive, covered in what
Speaker 2: looked like white or light gray hair. The face was
Speaker 2: almost human, but elongated, with deep set eyes that didn't
Speaker 2: flinch from the light. We looked at each other across
Speaker 2: that frozen distance for maybe ten seconds. Then it turned
Speaker 2: and walked into the storm. The way it moved was fluid, powerful,
Speaker 2: completely at home in conditions that would kill a human
Speaker 2: in minutes. The tracks it left were clear until the
Speaker 2: wind took them. I followed for one hundred yards before
Speaker 2: common sense kicked in. Whatever this thing was, it was
Speaker 2: adapted to this environment in ways humans weren't. Following it
Speaker 2: into a blizzard would be suicide. More reports came in
Speaker 2: that spring, truckers seeing figures crossing the road, pipeline workers
Speaker 2: finding massive footprints, hunters reporting strange howls echoing off the
Speaker 2: Brooks Range. A National Geographic photographer claimed he got within
Speaker 2: fifty yards of one before it noticed him and disappeared
Speaker 2: up a cliff face no human could climb. I compiled everything, photos, videos,
Speaker 2: blood samples, hair samples, plaster casts, sent it to a
Speaker 2: contact at the FBI who dealt with unusual cases, got
Speaker 2: a call two days later. They had similar reports from
Speaker 2: all along the Alaskan and Canadian Arctic. Had been tracking
Speaker 2: these things for decades. Officially they didn't exist. Unofficially, field
Speaker 2: agents were told to document but not engage. The most
Speaker 2: interesting case was from nineteen seventy nine. An oil exploration
Speaker 2: team found a body in the permafrost near prude Hoe Bay,
Speaker 2: seven and a half feet tall, covered in hair, partially mummified.
Speaker 2: The company flew it out immediately. Officially it was a
Speaker 2: prehistoric bear. The workers who found it said otherwise. One
Speaker 2: took photos before the body was removed. The skeletal structure
Speaker 2: was humanoid. The skull was all wrong for a bear.
Speaker 2: I'm still stationed on the Dalton, still get reports, but
Speaker 2: now I know what to look for. They avoid the
Speaker 2: pipeline and the Hall Road mostly, but sometimes our worlds intersect.
Speaker 2: In the long Arctic twilight, you might see them moving
Speaker 2: across the tundra, dark shapes against the snow, walking upright,
Speaker 2: impossibly large. The truckers know, the pipeline workers know. The
Speaker 2: indigenous peoples have always known. There's something else out here
Speaker 2: in the Arctic wilderness, something that was here first, and
Speaker 2: we'll be here long after the oil stops flowing and
Speaker 2: the road crumbles back to tundra. Our final account brings
Speaker 2: us to the swamps and forests of East Texas. October
Speaker 2: twenty twenty. The Big Thicket National Preserve Sheriff's Deputy James
Speaker 2: tells us about a missing person case that became something
Speaker 2: else entirely October twenty twenty, we had a miss person
Speaker 2: case that evolved into something that I'll never forget. Robert
Speaker 2: sixty seven years old, disappeared while hiking in the Big
Speaker 2: Thicket National Preserve. Experienced outdoorsmen knew the area like his backyard.
Speaker 2: His truck was at the Kirby Nature Trail Parking Area.
Speaker 2: Keys under the mat like always. The Big Thicket is
Speaker 2: different from what most people imagine Texas to be. It's dense, swampy,
Speaker 2: a biological crossroads where eastern hardwood forests, Gulf coastal plains
Speaker 2: and pine forests converge. Locals call it impenetrable for a reason.
Speaker 2: It's easy to get lost in there, easier to stay lost.
Speaker 2: We started the search immediately, dogs helicopters, volunteer groups. The
Speaker 2: dogs acted strange from the start, refused to track, kept
Speaker 2: circling back to the handlers with their tails between their legs.
Speaker 2: The best tracking dog in East Texas, a bloodhound named Duke,
Speaker 2: sat down at the trailhead and howled. Wouldn't budge no
Speaker 2: matter what his hand did. I'd been with hardin County
Speaker 2: Sheriff's office for eight years, worked plenty of searches in
Speaker 2: the thicket. This felt wrong from the beginning. Robert's trail
Speaker 2: went cold about a mile in, just stopped, not like
Speaker 2: he doubled back or gone off trail. The scent just ended,
Speaker 2: according to the dogs. Day two, we found his backpack
Speaker 2: hanging from a tree branch twenty feet up, not thrown
Speaker 2: or caught, deliberately placed, his water, food GPS, all still inside.
Speaker 2: No way Robert, with his bad knee, climbed that tree.
Speaker 2: The bark showed no scuff marks from climbing. That's when
Speaker 2: we started finding the prints in the mud near Village Creek.
Speaker 2: Clear as day, human like, but massive, with a mid
Speaker 2: tarsl break that no human foot has sixteen inches long
Speaker 2: stride length that suggested something over seven feet tall. The
Speaker 2: game warden said, black bear. But I've seen bear prints.
Speaker 2: These had five toess clear heel strikes and that distinctive
Speaker 2: push off pattern of bipedal movement. The search zone expanded.
Speaker 2: I was working with two volunteers searching along the Turkey
Speaker 2: Creek trail. The smell hit us first, like a wet
Speaker 2: dog rolled in swamp. Gas and rotten eggs made your
Speaker 2: eyes water throat close up. The volunteers wanted to turn back,
Speaker 2: but we pushed through. Found a shelter built from pine
Speaker 2: trees that had been bent and woven together while still alive.
Speaker 2: Inside were beds of Spanish moss and pine needles. The
Speaker 2: ceiling was eight feet high. On the ground, more prints
Speaker 2: and what looked like a collection of objects smooth river rocks,
Speaker 2: pieces of colored glass, and Robert's compass from his missing pack.
Speaker 2: We called in the find, but by the time the
Speaker 2: main search party arrived, the shelter was gone, not destroyed, gone.
Speaker 2: The trees were standing straight like they'd never been bent.
Speaker 2: Only thing left was disturbed ground and that lingering smell.
Speaker 2: That night, we set up base camp at the Pitcher
Speaker 2: Plant Trail parking area. Around midnight, the howls started long, mournful,
Speaker 2: but with a quality that was almost human, like someone
Speaker 2: screaming in grief, but deeper, more resonant than wood knocks,
Speaker 2: clear patterns from multiple directions. The search and rescue coordinator,
Speaker 2: a thirty year veteran, packed up and left, said he'd
Speaker 2: seen enough. Day three brought the closest encounter. I was
Speaker 2: searching solo along Cypress Slough when I heard footsteps paralleling
Speaker 2: me through the water, heavy deliberate splashing. I stopped, they stopped.
Speaker 2: I moved, they moved. Finally called out, identified myself as
Speaker 2: law enforcement. The footsteps stopped. Then Robert walked out of
Speaker 2: the palmetto thicket alive, uninjured but different. His clothes were intact,
Speaker 2: but covered in mud. He didn't respond to questions, just
Speaker 2: walked past me toward the trail. I followed, calling for backup.
Speaker 2: When we got him to the ambulance, his vitals normal,
Speaker 2: no injuries, but completely unresponsive. At the hospital they found
Speaker 2: something odd his feet. The souls were clean, soft, no
Speaker 2: cuts or bruises, despite supposedly walking barefoot through the thicket
Speaker 2: for three days. His boots were never found. Robert came
Speaker 2: around after a week, said he remembered following something that
Speaker 2: walked upright but wasn't human. Said it led him to
Speaker 2: a place where others like it lived, families, he insisted
Speaker 2: with young ones. They didn't hurt him, just watched him,
Speaker 2: brought him food.
Speaker 1: Nuts, berries, fish.
Speaker 2: He said they were trying to communicate something about the land,
Speaker 2: about changes coming, but he couldn't understand. The psychologist diagnosed
Speaker 2: it as stress induced hallucination, but Robert drew pictures, detailed
Speaker 2: sketches of faces that were almost human, but not quite.
Speaker 2: Stay tuned for more sasquatch otta see, We'll be right
Speaker 2: back after these messages pronounced brow ridges, wide noses, hair
Speaker 2: covering everything but the palms, souls and face. I went
Speaker 2: back alone a month later found the spot where Robert
Speaker 2: had emerged. The ground was covered in footprints, dozens of them,
Speaker 2: different sizes, including small ones that suggested juveniles. In the
Speaker 2: center was a pattern made from arranged stones and sticks.
Speaker 2: Took photos, then left everything undisturbed. Started researching the Alabama
Speaker 2: Kushata and Cato tribes had stories about the shadow people
Speaker 2: of the thicket. Early settlers reported wild men stealing from camps.
Speaker 2: In nineteen sixty nine, three hunters disappeared for a week,
Speaker 2: found later with similar stories to Roberts, led away by
Speaker 2: tall hair covered beings who lived in the deep Thicket.
Speaker 2: The state biologist I consulted off the record wasn't surprised,
Speaker 2: said the Big Thicket was one of the most biodiverse
Speaker 2: areas in North America, with species found nowhere else. If
Speaker 2: something like this existed anywhere in Texas, it would be there.
Speaker 2: He showed me castings from tracks found in nineteen seventy six,
Speaker 2: hair samples that came back as unknown primate in nineteen
Speaker 2: eighty three, and a game camera photo from twenty eighteen
Speaker 2: showing a tall, dark figure walking upright through the trees.
Speaker 2: But nothing official. Never anything official. The reports get filed
Speaker 2: as bears, feral humans, or hoaxes. The evidence disappears or
Speaker 2: gets reclassified, the witnesses are discouraged from talking. I still
Speaker 2: patrol the edges of the thicket, sometimes find prints after
Speaker 2: heavy rains. Once found a deer carcass field dressed with
Speaker 2: obvious hand manipulation, no tool marks. Another time a pyramid
Speaker 2: of turtle shells stacked by a creek, each one cleaned perfectly.
Speaker 2: Last spring, During another search for a missing hiker found
Speaker 2: safe two days later, I saw one clearly dawn heavy
Speaker 2: fog about forty yards away across a slough. Female I
Speaker 2: think based on the build, maybe seven feet tall, covered
Speaker 2: in reddish brown hair. She was picking something from the water,
Speaker 2: crawfish maybe, and eating them. She knew I was there,
Speaker 2: looked right at me, then continued what she was doing.
Speaker 2: No fear, no aggression, just acknowledgment. After a few minutes,
Speaker 2: she stood, made a sound like a whistle crossed with
Speaker 2: a hum, and three smaller figures emerged from the palmettos juveniles.
Speaker 2: They all walked deeper into the thicket, unhurried, the young ones,
Speaker 2: playing as they went. I never reported it, what would
Speaker 2: be the point, But I know they're there, a whole population,
Speaker 2: maybe living in the most impenetrable parts of the thicket,
Speaker 2: avoiding us mostly, but sometimes our worlds overlap. Sometimes someone
Speaker 2: like Robert crosses that boundary and comes back changed. These
Speaker 2: accounts were shared by six law enforcement officers from across America,
Speaker 2: from the rainforests of Washington to the frozen tundra of Alaska,
Speaker 2: from the ancient mountains of Kentucky to the deep swamps
Speaker 2: of Texas. Each officer continues their work, carrying the knowledge
Speaker 2: of what they've seen, maintaining the thin blue line between
Speaker 2: the known world and something far older, far stranger, that
Speaker 2: shares our forests and wilderness. They serve and protect, but
Speaker 2: they also keep secrets because some truths the public isn't
Speaker 2: ready for, and some mysteries are better left unsolved. These
Speaker 2: officers didn't ask for these encounters. They were simply doing
Speaker 2: their jobs when they crossed paths with something that shouldn't.
Speaker 1: Exist but does.
Speaker 2: The evidence is there, photographs, footprint casts, hair samples, blood analysis,
Speaker 2: all carefully documented, then quietly filed away or reclassified. The
Speaker 2: official reports tell one story, bare sightings, equipment malfunctions, wilderness hallucinations.
Speaker 2: But the officers who live these experiences.
Speaker 1: Know the truth.
Speaker 2: Out there, in the forgotten corners of America, in places
Speaker 2: where cell phones don't work and satellites can't see through
Speaker 2: the canopy, something else lives. Something that walks upright, that
Speaker 2: watches from the shadows, that has learned to avoid us
Speaker 2: as we've spread across the continent. They were here first,
Speaker 2: they'll be here after we're gone. The next time you're
Speaker 2: driving a lonely road at night and see eyeshine at
Speaker 2: the wrong height, or hiking a trail and find a
Speaker 2: footprint too large to explain, or camping in the wilderness
Speaker 2: and hear a sound that doesn't belong to any known animal.
Speaker 2: Remember these stories. Remember that there are those who wear
Speaker 2: badges and carried guns, who have seen things that challenge
Speaker 2: everything we think we know.
Speaker 1: About the world.
Speaker 2: And remember that sometimes, just sometimes, the old stories are true,
Speaker 2: The legends have substance, and the things that go bump
Speaker 2: in the night are more re than we ever imagined.
Speaker 2: This has been Backwood's Bigfoot stories, real encounters from real
Speaker 2: law enforcement officers, because the truth, as they say, is
Speaker 2: stranger than fiction and infinitely more terrifying. Stay safe out there,
Speaker 2: and whatever you do, stay out of the woods after dark.
Speaker 1: They say, you.
Speaker 2: Don't gotta go home, but you can't stay.
Speaker 1: I don't want to feel.
Speaker 2: We're out the.
Speaker 1: Job, this job, that chid everything.
Speaker 2: You call it right looking back, joy for me, joy,
Speaker 2: staying right, you call it run away step still, stay, stay,
Speaker 2: stay still fast stay passes states, basingst usssess