Speaker 1: I came from an area in upstate New York where
there are a lot of different cryptids and anomalies. Most
people hear New York and they think the city. But
my part of New York is the Adirondack area. The
city folks scoff at us and they call us Hicks.
Because of that, I can sympathize with many Southerners who
get the same tag from the same people. I don't
know why that makes me laugh, because, you know what,
I've never had anybody you can hear my accent. You
can tell where I'm from. I've never had any I've
had people laugh at my accent. I have customers in
California and they like to They'll I'll call them and
be talking to a project manager about an issue. Sometimes
they'll all get in his office and put me on
a speakerphone to hear me talk. They don't know I
do a podcast, and I want to tell them, Hey,
all you got to do is click on my YouTube channel.
You could hear me talk all day anyway. I just
thought that was funny. So hit rednecks or rednecks anywhere.
Back to the story. The Mohawk Valley where I grew
up is best known for the Native American tribes in
the general Herkimer h e r k I E R
I don't know what that word is. Back in nineteen
eighty two, when I was a typical teenager of about fourteen,
it became known for something else, entirely at least for me.
My mother and I were making our normal weekend trip
to visit my grandparents, who lived half an hour away.
The drive took us through farmland with lots of hills
and wooded areas. Like any teen I was sitting in
the front seat with my head pressed against the passenger window,
and I was staring out at the passing countryside while
listening to the radio. We were only about halfway there
when Mom slowed down and said, look at that, Sue.
Mom was not the excitable tighte and if she raised
her voice or sounded alarmed, something had to be terribly wrong.
She was pointing up to the sky at the largest
bird I had ever seen. It was like something out
of the Land of the Lost TV show that I
used to watch as a kid. It wasn't flapping its wings,
but rather gliding across the sky. It was black with
bat like wings and had a crook in its neck,
and it reminded me of an atom's apple, And there
was something sticking out of the back of its head
that came to a point. It wasn't covered in black
feathers like a thunderbird. It was well like a bat.
It's hard to say how high up this thing was,
but I guess it must have been one hundred feet.
Its wingspan was a lot wider than that of a
Cessna airplane. I clearly remember my mom saying it looks
like a pterodactyl. We watched it for a bit and
then went about our travels. For the life of me,
I can't believe she did not sit there longer or
try to follow it. As a teenager, I was more
interested in music and roller skating and boys, and it
wasn't until later that I began to think back on
it and really question what the heck did I see. Recently,
I raised the topic with a friend of mine who
lives in the area. Her husband is a hunter, and
he and his friends have often commented that there are
some unusually large birds in this area. He even claimed
to know where some of the nests used to be.
I plan on looking into this further If I had
seen this today, I would have dismissed it as some
electronic device like a drone. But back in nineteen eighty
two that would not have been an obvious option. The
military had drones at that time, but civilians didn't have
access for another twenty years or more. Therefore, I have
no answer that bizarre creature. Within a year of that sighting,
my mom and I had another strange experience five miles
from where we saw that ungodly bird. There've always been
stories surrounding the Mohawk Jordanville area about strange lights and
objects in the sky, but this time we were headed
home from my grandparents. It was a Sunday night and
already quite dark out. Again. Teenage me had my head
pressed against the window, watching the scenery pass and waiting
to get home. Oh my god, Sue, look at that,
Mom said, in that same slightly elevated tone that indicated
she meant business. She pulled over onto the side of
the road and put the car in part. Sitting in
the sky above us was a large round object. The
top was barely visible, but tiny lights were blinking around
the edge of it. There was a circle in the
middle that had an orange hue to it, and the
bottom was bright and therefore easier to see. It was
making absolutely no noise at all. It was at least
one hundred feet up and a couple of football fields
in length. Mom said that she needed to call Griffith's
Air Force Base, which was located half an hour away
in Rome, New York at the time, and we sat
there for a little longer as she opened and closed
a glove box looking for a camera she knew was
not there. It was obvious that Mom was shook up
by what she was seeing. The next thing I knew,
she threw the car in drive and floored it out
of there. Do not tell your friends about this, she said,
they'll think you're crazy. Ten minutes later, we were home
and I was doing exactly what she told me not
to do. After Mom hung up from the Air Force base,
I called my best friend and I told her the
whole story, and then I listened while she related it
to her brothers. She's crazy. She didn't see anything. They
told her. Mom was right. I decided not to tell
anyone else about it after that. Still, I couldn't help
but wonder why Mom didn't grab her camera and head
back up there. She probably thought it would be gone
by then. After we both made our phone calls, Mom
reminded me of something that happened eight years earlier when
we were in Palatin, New York. I would have been
around four or five at the time. We were on
our way to pick up my stepfather from work at midnight.
I brought my blanket and pillow, and I was curled
up in the back seat sleeping when I awoke to
the sound of voices. There were vehicles around us in
both lanes, and they were at a standstill. Mom was
talking to a man through the window about something up
in the sky. I naturally looked up to see what
they were talking about, and there in the sky was
a round, disk shaped object with flashing lights around it.
It wasn't as large as the one Mom and I saw,
but I remember it having the same orange circle. I
don't remember much beyond that, except for hearing Mom explaining
to my stepdad why we were late. Years later, crop
circles were found in the general area on Vickerman Hill,
which is also Route twenty eight in Mohawk. I went
to see them, like a lot of others did. Even
got a taste of an elixir made from the down
crops in the circles. They were giving people drops of
it at a local fair. I have other stories, but
I think this is enough for now. Thanks for reading
my story. I can't stay silent for another day. I
have the right amount of booze in me to relive
this one more time, but not so much that I'm
in coherent. It was a summer of nineteen ninety two,
and I had decided to live the best summer of
my life before becoming a productive member of society. I
fished and camped and hiked throughout my entire youth, but
that was all about to come to an end with
two simple words, I do. I left my parents' house
early that morning with my pistol on my hip. I
had a rifle. The park I was headed to was
a couple of hours away and not often visited by anyone.
I had heard all the wild stories about it, and
I was anxious to see it for myself. At first glance,
I was not disappointed. Off in the distance, I could
see the open patches high up on the hills and
bordered by clusters of trees. To the left of the
road was a dry river bed, that would make an
easy trail for me toime stood still in this place,
old moss covered rock fences were the only evidence that
human hands had ever been there. I was thrilled as
I took my first step, wondering what lay before me,
if only I had known. After a couple of hours
and a few stops, I came to a spot where
the creek narrowed with a three foot bank. A cluster
of trees sat to the left, and to the right
was an open field of wildflowers. The wind that I
had heard whistling through the trees all day was gone,
and I was suddenly aware of something dark. It was
a gut twisting feeling that came out of nowhere. I stopped,
and I held my breath, afraid even to exhale, though
I had no idea why. And then I saw it.
Up ahead one hundred yards to my right was something dark.
It was as if that feeling had taken physical form.
There was no movement or sound, yet I felt it
demanded my attention, so slowly I reached for my binoculars,
and immediately I was hit with a blast of don't
do that. I stopped dead for a single moment before
continuing to lift them to my eyes. Why didn't I
listen into that inner voice? There up ahead in the bushes,
it was a thing, a massive, black, hairy thing. I
tried to tell myself it was a bear, but I
couldn't lie that well. It was a little afternoon and
the sun was high in the sky. The downward shadow
it cast made the thing's face darker. Its eyes were
cloaked under its massive brow, But somehow I knew it
was glaring at me. I could see its fangs, Yes,
it had fangs. It was contrasted against its black face.
There was no definition to its chest, but it was
incredibly wide. I felt sick. My knees buckled, and my
head began to swim. Now I reached for the riverbank
to steady myself, and I saw the creature vanish somewhere
inside me. I felt a bit of relief, thinking it
had left, and within seconds it popped its head up again.
Now it was seventy yards away, and it stared its dark,
evil intent at me through black, vacant eye sockets. It
seemed to be saying, in my mind, if only you
hadn't looked. It stretched up and over as if it
was getting a better look, and then it vanished again.
I stumbled backwards, fighting the urge to turn and run,
and my mind raced. And some will tell you that
they think of their loved ones, or they might save
the idea becoming a part of a missing four one
one phenomenon uncrossed their minds. Well, that wasn't the case
for me. I thought about how this thing might attack me,
and how bad it would hurt, and how long it
would take to die. And I wondered if it would
rip me apart or eat me while I still struggled
to get away. Every thought was a horror, worse than
the last. Now I heard it making noise, as if
it wanted me to be scared. I had heard that
blood was sweeter when a dren one was dumped into it,
so I wondered if this was what the thing was doing.
It stomped and broke branches and huffed as it moved
through the brush, and again it raised its head, only
forty yards away. Its details were now more defined. It
was more disgusting than I imagine, its face glistening in
the sun. A patch on its chest also shimmered as
silvery strings ran from the corners of its mouth. That
mouth slid its face in two. It was wide and
slightly parted, giving it an almost grinning effect. Its head
and body were all one. If it had a neck,
it was surrounded by pure muscle. If I were describe
it honestly, I would only be able to say that
it was big, it was black, and it was horrific.
Again it vanished, and each time it did, it moved
so fast that it blurred out of sight. It seemed
unnatural in its movement. This sick game of peekaboo was
more than my mind could take in. And I struggled,
and part of me was resigned to death, while another part,
a more primal part, wanted to run. Still, another part
of me said I need to fight. These emotions combined
to create a mind of warping, stomach churning mess. I
slowly began to back up, afraid to look behind me
or even turn ahead. And the noises were getting louder
and closer, and I began to say the Lord's prayer.
It popped his head up again from twenty feet away.
It was emboldened, and it stood erect, craning to see me.
It rose well above the bushes that I guessed were
probably six feet tall. It was running out of brush
and soon it would be in the clearing across from me,
and I began to cry. I knew this was the end.
There was nothing I could do to avoid it, and
I snapped out of myself pity as the thing disappeared
once again to the foliage. Then it stepped out of
the brust, slightly bent at the waist, its arms hanging
at its sides. They were tipped with claws that I
couldn't stop staring at. Its body. Heaved with each breath
that grew increasingly faster as it seemed to be working
itself into a frenzy, and it wheezed when it inhaled
faster and faster it huffed in and out. Then it
went silent in slow motion. I watched it as it
bent its knees and leaned forward and threw its arms back,
ready to jump, and I was falling backwards when all
help broke loose. The silence was shattered by something exploding
to my left, and it showered the creek bed with shrapnel.
I felt a gust of wind as a reddish brown
blur flew out of the chaos and hit the creature's
square on only an empty space loomed before me. Now
then I was hit by a sound wave that came
from the other side of the brush, and it vibrated
me to my core. It was followed by deep thumps
that shook the ground and rattled my teeth. I rolled
and tried to force my body to move, but I couldn't.
I could only lie there, feeling and hearing what sounded
like a freight train and bombs bursting all around me.
I'm not sure how long it was before I could
move again, to my horror. When I finally did, I
was moving toward the source of the noise, almost transl like.
I inched to the edge of the creek and peered
over the side. Thirty feet away. Two monsters were fighting
that were biting and clawing and clubbing and tearing at
each other. It was a dog fight. Each was twisting
and turning to get the upper hand, and jaws snapped
and heads bobbed and weaved. It was primal and it
was vicious, and I clamped my hands over my ears
to block out the screaming that was emitting from each bite.
Finally I realized what had saved me. It was a sasquatch.
I had watched all the shows and seen all the
trail cam footage. As I was beginning to understand, it
became distracted for a moment, which allowed the other creature
to get its feet up against the bigfoot's chest, and
with a massive push, it flipped the sasquatch onto its
back and leapt on him, biting down on his upper thigh.
The scream of pain was so much louder than the
other sounds I had heard, and once again I fell
to the ground and I covered my ears. The tables
had turned. The young sasquatch was now in trouble. He
was the one fending off the clubbing blows. He was losing.
I knew I had to do something, but I didn't
know what. If that creature won, I would be dinner again.
Then I remembered my gun. I knew I couldn't kill it,
but maybe I could distract that thing long enough to
give the sasquatch a chance. And I took a deep
breath and I raised my rifle. The monsters was moving
too fast to get a clean shot. Most of its
body was moving too fast, and then with an almost
perverse pleasure. I realized the only part of it that
wasn't moving too fast was its backside. Almost snickered at
the thought of shooting it there. I started to pull
the trigger, and a massive scream, louder than anything I
had heard so far, burst through the air from my
far right, and spinning around, I saw an even larger
beast break through the tree line and rush headlong into
the fray. The monster straightened up and braced for the attack,
but it was too late. The larger squatch had already
reached it, hitting it in its back so hard that
the top of its head snapped back and bounced off
its massive back with a resounding crack, and it crumpled
forward to its face. Seconds passed like hours as the
two watched, waiting for a movement that never came, and
a kick to the side confirmed that the monster would
never move again. The victor raised his head and sniffed
the air and screamed a victory roar before grabbing the
monster's ankle, dragging it off into the trees. The first
bigfoot now turned its focus on me as it stood up.
The sight of its nine foot frames and a shudder
through me. It was studying me as it cautiously inched forward,
and when I realized that I was pointing my rifle
at it with my finger on the trigger, I lowered
my rifle and that appeared to give it some relief. However,
it began to move faster toward me. Maybe it was fear,
and maybe it was the crash after such an adrenaline rush.
I couldn't say. All I know is that the edges
of my vision began to darken in the earth was
beginning to spin, and the last thing I saw was
the ground flying up to meet my face. When I awoke,
my head was pounding and I felt ill. I rested
my head between my knees and then hailed through my
mind and exhaled through my mouth, fighting the urge to
go up the cool night air. And then I looked around.
I was propped up against my truck with my rifle
at my side. Had this been a nightmare? Had I
never left my parking spot? Had I nodded off instead
and had a bad dream. I began to question myself mentally,
replaying the events that led up to this moment. It
had to have been a dream. I convinced myself that
I had never left my truck, and I got myself
off the ground and turned to get in, wanting nothing
more than to get home. That was when I saw
the huge handprint on the hood of my truck, placed
exactly where someone would have placed their hand to steady
themselves while setting something on the ground. My froze and
suddenly aware the cold wet spot in my pants where
I had soiled myself, had to face the truth. I
have never moved so fast in my life. I never
looked back, nor have I ever told this story to anyone.
For years, that thing stalked my dreams. Sometimes it caught me.
On those occasions, I would wake up screaming and flailing
my arms. Those dreams dropped a year ago, so I
figured it was time to share my story, only hope
that telling it doesn't invite that creature to make a
nocturnal comeback. I had recently relocated back to New Mexico
from the East Coast in twenty and fifteen after thirty
years of being away. Reconnecting with old friends and chatting
over high school memories was great. I noticed in our
time together that everyone seemed to discuss what I deemed
conspiracy theories. I was never one to judge, but I
would listen. On the inside. I would find humor in
what was being said. That was how I approached things
back then. Not one to go too far on being real,
I entertained it with my wit. I was not one
who did the sci fi thing either, or watch Star
Trek type shows. We all know what New Mexico is
known for, but that was not my thing. Then four
months of settling back into desert life, and I was
outside at night and I saw these two lights off
in the sky moving around each other, almost like the
two were playing. Is how I took it. I watched
for a few minutes and decided to grab some pictures
in a video so I could show my conspiracy theory
friends as I chuckled, but I wanted the inclusion to
be honest. I went inside to see what I had
captured on film, and the two dots in the sky
far off weren't worthy of sharing, and in trying to edit,
I must have turned on my flash accidentally. I wanted
to try again, so I headed back out to get
more evidence. Luckily they were still out there and still
well what I called playing, moving around each other and
chasing each other, but it was apparent two lights separated
from each were moving. I pointed my phone at the
sky and I went to snap a photo and my
flash went off pointing at these lights, and then they stopped.
I was busted and I ran inside, laughing to myself
that I had been caught. But really, in my mind,
I guess I didn't think anything more than just a
coincidence that they had stopped. It wasn't more than a
few minutes, and I mustard up the nerve to go
back out and try again. After turning off the flash
on my phone's camera and I walked outside and under
the street light, I saw something strange. It looked like
there were five baseball size shining objects under the light.
I rubbed my eyes, thinking that I was just seeing
starburst of metal, and I quickly dismissed that idea so
I could get more pictures. I no longer saw the
objects in the sky, and as I was looking, I
used my phone zoom option with the video recording on,
and proceeded to search the sky, hoping to find the
two objects again. I was recording for five seconds when
a gold, metallic baseball sized orb thing popped up from
underneath and was directly in front of my phone. It
scared me so bad I jumped and I ran into
the door, stopping to see clearly five of the same
gold orbs that were floating under my street light. Those
were the lights I had spotted earlier, and blew off
with a laugh. I was inside within seconds, praying the
blood of Jesus over my home. It was no longer
a funny joke, but very real, and I felt like
my heart was going to explode from beating so fast.
My life changed in an instant that night. My awareness
and following your podcast should tell you that I have
since changed my entire mindset on what is really going
on in the world, and I no longer make jokes
and take these things lightly. I have that five second
video storage somewhere and I will afford it to you
once I locate it. But since that night, I have
seen and documented more things in the sky than I
can count. And I experienced a lot of strangeness for
the next year following my first sighting, and it was
a difficult time in my life. I must admit that
my phone was my only proof I had so as
not to appear crazy or on some mind altering drug,
and I guess I had to prove it to myself
as well. I learned later that I could not tell
those closest to me about this event because forty years
of solid, well respected and sound minded friendship became distance
and a doubting of credibility took its place. I learned
it was best to keep silent. That night changed me,
and my life has never been the same. Things settled
down after that year, and I committed myself to learning
all I could regarding these things that we have been
told that do not exist. I learned that the military
base in my areas where Eisenhower was reported to have
had secret meetings with aliens and made a trade agreement
with them in nineteen fifty four, it's easy to find
if you do a search. Witnesses are available. The point
of it all is to let people know not to
doubt or make light of what you think doesn't exist,
because the wake up call is not anything you could
ever be prepared for.