WEBVTT 1 00:00:00.040 --> 00:00:01.600 Today, I want to tell you about a journey that 2 00:00:01.600 --> 00:00:03.879 I've been on for most of my life. Ever since 3 00:00:03.919 --> 00:00:05.799 I was a kid, I've heard tales of bigfoot and 4 00:00:05.839 --> 00:00:08.320 wild men while spending time with my friends and family. 5 00:00:09.039 --> 00:00:11.439 As I grew older and read more about the paranormal, 6 00:00:11.599 --> 00:00:14.679 my interest in encryptids and other things strange only deepened. 7 00:00:15.240 --> 00:00:17.160 That's why I'm so excited to share with you what 8 00:00:17.199 --> 00:00:21.640 I've personally become involved with the Untold Radio Network. The 9 00:00:21.719 --> 00:00:25.280 Untold Radio Network is a live streaming podcast network that 10 00:00:25.359 --> 00:00:29.359 airs a new show every day across all podcast platforms, YouTube, 11 00:00:29.359 --> 00:00:32.119 and more. They have eight different shows on all sorts 12 00:00:32.159 --> 00:00:36.119 of exciting topics such as bigfoot, cryptids, UFOs, aliens, and 13 00:00:36.200 --> 00:00:39.479 much more. I even have my own show called Weird Encounters, 14 00:00:39.479 --> 00:00:42.439 where I talk about all things strange. This is more 15 00:00:42.479 --> 00:00:45.280 than just a podcast network. It's a community that allows 16 00:00:45.320 --> 00:00:47.759 me to meet so many amazing people who share their 17 00:00:47.799 --> 00:00:51.520 stories and experiences with strange. If you're interested in hearing 18 00:00:51.560 --> 00:00:53.880 more of these stories and learning more about the paranormal 19 00:00:53.960 --> 00:00:56.679 and encryptids, make sure you check out the Untold Radio 20 00:00:56.759 --> 00:01:00.600 Network for all kinds of exciting shows. It's free to subscribe. 21 00:01:00.679 --> 00:01:04.400 So what are you waiting for visit www dot untold 22 00:01:04.519 --> 00:01:06.560 radionetwork dot com today. 23 00:01:06.760 --> 00:01:09.680 Now, what are your reporting? I got a screen going 24 00:01:09.719 --> 00:01:12.120 on here. Something just kid with my dog, something to 25 00:01:12.200 --> 00:01:15.280 kill your dog? My dog. We're flying through there, over 26 00:01:15.319 --> 00:01:20.079 the tree. I don't know how it did it? Okay, Damn, 27 00:01:20.159 --> 00:01:22.640 I'm really confused. All I saw was my dog coming 28 00:01:22.680 --> 00:01:24.480 over the fence, and name was dead once you hit 29 00:01:24.519 --> 00:01:26.560 the grill. I didn't see any cars. All I saw 30 00:01:26.680 --> 00:01:45.120 was my dog coming over the fence. Sat, what are 31 00:01:45.120 --> 00:01:49.959 you reporting? We got some wonder or something crawling around 32 00:01:50.040 --> 00:01:58.640 out here? Did you see what it was? It was 33 00:01:59.359 --> 00:02:01.359 enough out here. Look, I'm new to one down now 34 00:02:01.400 --> 00:02:03.439 and I don't need anything. I don't want to go outside. 35 00:02:05.120 --> 00:02:11.439 Its fight. Hello, hit the boddy out here? 36 00:02:11.759 --> 00:02:12.199 What quin? 37 00:02:12.240 --> 00:02:15.120 I'm out there? It's thought of a ventures about text nine. 38 00:02:15.199 --> 00:02:17.719 I don't know easy an out there? Yeah, I'm walking 39 00:02:17.800 --> 00:02:18.199 right heady. 40 00:02:19.319 --> 00:02:21.039 First off, I just want to say how much I 41 00:02:21.240 --> 00:02:24.080 enjoy your show. It's a place where the mysterious and 42 00:02:24.159 --> 00:02:27.159 the unbelievable find a home, and that's why I feel 43 00:02:27.240 --> 00:02:30.639 safe sharing this story. It's one my family has kept 44 00:02:30.680 --> 00:02:33.680 to ourselves for decades. I grew up on a three 45 00:02:33.759 --> 00:02:37.000 hundred acre farm in the hills of South Carolina, surrounded 46 00:02:37.039 --> 00:02:40.520 by dense forests, winding creeks, and a sense of quiet 47 00:02:40.599 --> 00:02:44.120 that only the countryside can bring. Life was simple then 48 00:02:44.560 --> 00:02:48.360 hard work, family meals, and the occasional thrill of exploring 49 00:02:48.400 --> 00:02:52.319 the woods. My parents, salt of the earth people, taught 50 00:02:52.360 --> 00:02:55.039 me early on that the land didn't belong to us alone. 51 00:02:55.800 --> 00:02:59.960 It was shared in ways we didn't fully understand. For year, 52 00:03:00.240 --> 00:03:04.479 we'd heard stories from neighbors about strange happenings, livestock vanishing, 53 00:03:04.960 --> 00:03:07.560 eerie howls that made the hairs on your neck stand 54 00:03:07.639 --> 00:03:11.759 on end, and enormous footprints in the mud after a rainstorm. 55 00:03:12.759 --> 00:03:16.280 Our nearest neighbor, old Man Brown, was convinced that boogers, 56 00:03:16.319 --> 00:03:19.199 as he called them, were to blame. He'd chewed at 57 00:03:19.240 --> 00:03:23.159 anything he couldn't explain, claiming they'd taken his chickens, hogs, 58 00:03:23.199 --> 00:03:26.800 and even a cow or two over the years. My parents, however, 59 00:03:26.879 --> 00:03:29.960 approached the idea differently. They believed in what we now 60 00:03:30.080 --> 00:03:33.439 call sasquatch, not as monsters, but as part of the 61 00:03:33.520 --> 00:03:37.759 wilderness itself. They'd heard the howls too, seen the prints, 62 00:03:38.080 --> 00:03:41.400 and even spotted fleeting silhouettes at the tree line. But 63 00:03:41.520 --> 00:03:43.759 nothing could have prepared us for the summer, when those 64 00:03:43.840 --> 00:03:47.360 beliefs turned into something far more personal. I was ten 65 00:03:47.479 --> 00:03:50.719 years old, wandering down by the creek one humid afternoon. 66 00:03:51.560 --> 00:03:54.560 The sun was high, the cicadas were singing, and the 67 00:03:54.639 --> 00:03:58.719 world felt alive. That's when I saw it, a shape 68 00:03:58.840 --> 00:04:01.960 lying crumpled on the creek bank. At first, I thought 69 00:04:02.000 --> 00:04:04.439 it was a bear, but as I crept closer, I 70 00:04:04.560 --> 00:04:07.080 realized it wasn't a bear at all. It was a 71 00:04:07.199 --> 00:04:11.319 young sasquatch, maybe five feet tall, its reddish brown hair 72 00:04:11.479 --> 00:04:14.919 matted with dirt and blood. It was clutching its arm 73 00:04:15.360 --> 00:04:20.120 where an ugly wound oozed crimson. The creature's breaths were shallow, 74 00:04:20.519 --> 00:04:24.560 its eyes fluttering open and closed. My first instinct should 75 00:04:24.600 --> 00:04:27.120 have been fear, but all I felt was an overwhelming 76 00:04:27.279 --> 00:04:30.360 urge to help. I bolted back to the house, my 77 00:04:30.480 --> 00:04:35.360 heart pounding. Mama, Daddy, there's a sasquatch down by the creek. 78 00:04:35.879 --> 00:04:38.839 It's hurt bad, I shouted as I burst through the door. 79 00:04:39.759 --> 00:04:42.000 At first they stared at me like I'd lost my mind, 80 00:04:42.560 --> 00:04:46.319 but something in my voice must have convinced them. Without hesitation. 81 00:04:46.639 --> 00:04:48.720 My mom grabbed a first aid kit while my dad 82 00:04:48.800 --> 00:04:52.199 grabbed an old blanket. Together we hurried to the creek. 83 00:04:53.079 --> 00:04:55.800 When my parents saw the creature, they exchanged a look 84 00:04:55.839 --> 00:05:00.680 I'll never forget, part awe, part worry. My mom knelt 85 00:05:00.720 --> 00:05:04.040 down and began speaking softly, her voice calm and steady. 86 00:05:04.839 --> 00:05:07.600 The sasquatch flinched but didn't fight as she cleaned the 87 00:05:07.680 --> 00:05:10.920 wound and wrapped it with strips of clean cloth. My 88 00:05:11.040 --> 00:05:13.639 dad helped me gather water from the creek, and together 89 00:05:14.000 --> 00:05:17.879 we fashioned a makeshift stretcher from the blanket. With great care, 90 00:05:18.199 --> 00:05:21.079 we lifted the young sasquatch onto it, and that's when 91 00:05:21.120 --> 00:05:24.879 the woods around us came alive. It started as a low, 92 00:05:25.120 --> 00:05:29.480 mournful sound, a deep guttural wail that made my chest vibrate. 93 00:05:30.279 --> 00:05:35.000 Then came the crashing trees, snapped, underbrush rustled violently, and 94 00:05:35.120 --> 00:05:38.959 heavy footfalls echoed all around us. My mom's hand trembled 95 00:05:39.000 --> 00:05:42.120 as she tightened the bandage on the sasquatch's arm. My 96 00:05:42.240 --> 00:05:46.120 dad scanned the woods, his jaw set, his grip tightening 97 00:05:46.160 --> 00:05:50.040 on the stretcher's edge. They're close, he muttered, and they're 98 00:05:50.120 --> 00:05:53.480 not happy. What do we do, my mom asked, her 99 00:05:53.560 --> 00:05:58.000 voice shaking. We move fast, my dad said firmly. If 100 00:05:58.040 --> 00:06:00.600 they think we're hurting him, we won't stand a chance. 101 00:06:01.680 --> 00:06:03.920 As we hoisted the stretcher and began the trek back 102 00:06:03.959 --> 00:06:08.240 to the house, the vocalizations grew louder. They weren't just angry, 103 00:06:08.759 --> 00:06:11.720 they were desperate, filled with an emotion I didn't fully 104 00:06:11.800 --> 00:06:14.959 understand at the time. I glanced back and thought I 105 00:06:15.040 --> 00:06:18.519 saw movement, a flash of dark hair weaving through the trees. 106 00:06:19.279 --> 00:06:23.720 My mom's face was pale, her eyes wide with fear. Joe, 107 00:06:23.879 --> 00:06:27.680 she said, her voice sharp, Stay close, don't wander off, 108 00:06:27.759 --> 00:06:31.079 no matter what. My dad led the way, his steps 109 00:06:31.160 --> 00:06:34.120 quick and deliberate. They've got to know we're helping him, 110 00:06:34.240 --> 00:06:37.680 he said, more to himself than to us. They've got 111 00:06:37.759 --> 00:06:41.480 to see that. We stumbled through the woods, the stretcher 112 00:06:41.560 --> 00:06:46.040 bouncing unevenly with every step. The young sasquatch moaned softly, 113 00:06:46.480 --> 00:06:49.399 its head lolling to one side. I could see the 114 00:06:49.439 --> 00:06:52.759 blood seeping through the bandages, leaving a trail of crimson 115 00:06:52.879 --> 00:06:56.279 droplets behind us. The thought of the creatures following that 116 00:06:56.399 --> 00:06:59.959 trail made my stomach twist. The woods around us felt 117 00:07:00.120 --> 00:07:03.800 alive with tension. Branches cracked in the distance, and the 118 00:07:03.920 --> 00:07:08.519 howls turned into sharp barks and rhythmic whooping calls. It 119 00:07:08.639 --> 00:07:12.240 sounded like a warning, a command to stay back, but 120 00:07:12.319 --> 00:07:14.560 whether the command was meant for us or each other, 121 00:07:14.959 --> 00:07:17.879 we didn't know. We were nearly to the edge of 122 00:07:17.879 --> 00:07:21.439 the woods when the crashing stopped for a moment. Everything 123 00:07:21.560 --> 00:07:24.439 was deathly silent, the kind of quiet that makes your 124 00:07:24.480 --> 00:07:28.680 ears ring. Then came a deep, resonant sound, like the 125 00:07:28.800 --> 00:07:31.720 mournful groan of a massive tree bending in the wind. 126 00:07:32.720 --> 00:07:35.360 It was a voice, rich and heavy, and though I 127 00:07:35.360 --> 00:07:38.600 couldn't understand the words, I knew it was speaking to us. 128 00:07:39.680 --> 00:07:43.319 My dad paused, setting the stretcher down gently. He raised 129 00:07:43.319 --> 00:07:46.759 his hands, palms open, and called out, we're helping him. 130 00:07:47.199 --> 00:07:51.079 He's hurt. We're trying to save him. The woods remained silent, 131 00:07:51.439 --> 00:07:54.720 but I felt eyes on us, dozens of them. My 132 00:07:54.839 --> 00:07:58.519 mom clutched my arm, whispering, they have to know, they 133 00:07:58.600 --> 00:08:02.519 have to understand. We waited for what felt like an eternity. 134 00:08:03.199 --> 00:08:07.519 Then another sound, a low, rumbling groan, softer this time. 135 00:08:08.319 --> 00:08:11.160 It was closer, as if the speaker had drawn nearer 136 00:08:11.240 --> 00:08:14.399 to us. My dad looked over at my mom, then 137 00:08:14.480 --> 00:08:19.360 at me, and nodded, let's go, he said quietly. We 138 00:08:19.480 --> 00:08:21.800 made it back to the barn without incident, but none 139 00:08:21.839 --> 00:08:24.079 of us felt safe until we had the doors closed 140 00:08:24.319 --> 00:08:28.079 and barred behind us. My dad knelt by the young sasquatch, 141 00:08:28.439 --> 00:08:32.120 checking its wound again. If they're watching, he said, we 142 00:08:32.240 --> 00:08:34.759 have to make sure they see we're doing everything we can. 143 00:08:36.279 --> 00:08:39.039 That night, as we worked to clean the sasquatches wound 144 00:08:39.120 --> 00:08:41.679 and make it comfortable, we heard soft knocks on the 145 00:08:41.759 --> 00:08:46.639 barn walls. Three knocks, then silence. My dad looked up 146 00:08:46.679 --> 00:08:50.159 and muttered, they're here. They have to know we're helping. 147 00:08:50.399 --> 00:08:54.759 My mom whispered again, and somehow, deep down, I believe 148 00:08:54.840 --> 00:08:58.559 they did. Over the next few weeks, our lives revolved 149 00:08:58.600 --> 00:09:00.960 around the barn and the young sadquatch we'd come to 150 00:09:01.080 --> 00:09:04.840 call Buddy. The name started as a soft nickname I 151 00:09:04.960 --> 00:09:07.840 used when sitting by his side, but soon my parents 152 00:09:07.879 --> 00:09:10.360 adopted it too, as if giving him a name made 153 00:09:10.399 --> 00:09:13.399 him feel less like a strange, wild creature and more 154 00:09:13.519 --> 00:09:17.440 like one of us. At first, Buddy was terrified. Any 155 00:09:17.559 --> 00:09:21.039 movement near him made him flinch, his wide amber eyes 156 00:09:21.159 --> 00:09:24.559 darting around the stall in fear. He would emit low, 157 00:09:24.720 --> 00:09:28.919 trembling sounds, like a nervous hump that vibrated in his chest. 158 00:09:29.960 --> 00:09:33.039 My mom was the first to gain his trust. Her voice, 159 00:09:33.320 --> 00:09:36.600 calm and steady, seemed to soothe them. She'd sit just 160 00:09:36.679 --> 00:09:40.519 outside the stall, singing hymns or softly talking about the farm, 161 00:09:41.159 --> 00:09:44.879 letting Buddy grow used to her presence. Slowly he began 162 00:09:44.960 --> 00:09:48.320 to relax, though his trust was fragile and hard won. 163 00:09:49.200 --> 00:09:52.039 The wound on his arm was nasty. The bullet had 164 00:09:52.080 --> 00:09:55.399 torn through muscle, leaving a jagged hole that was already 165 00:09:55.480 --> 00:09:58.799 swollen and infected when we found him. My mom, who 166 00:09:58.840 --> 00:10:02.200 knew her way around herber remedies, boiled water with yarrow 167 00:10:02.279 --> 00:10:05.200 and comfrey, using the mixture to clean the wound. Every 168 00:10:05.279 --> 00:10:08.679 morning and evening. Buddy would WinCE and rumble in pain, 169 00:10:09.120 --> 00:10:12.759 but he never lashed out. Sometimes his large hand would 170 00:10:12.759 --> 00:10:15.159 grip the wooden beam of the stall so tightly that 171 00:10:15.279 --> 00:10:19.039 the wood groaned under the pressure. My dad, a practical man, 172 00:10:19.120 --> 00:10:22.879 spent his time reinforcing the barn. If his family decides 173 00:10:22.960 --> 00:10:25.639 to come looking, we need to make sure this place holds, 174 00:10:25.720 --> 00:10:29.480 he said. He worked long hours, hammering extra planks onto 175 00:10:29.519 --> 00:10:33.039 the walls, double bolting the doors, and setting up lanterns 176 00:10:33.080 --> 00:10:36.759 around the perimeter. Light keeps most things at bay, he said, 177 00:10:37.320 --> 00:10:39.480 though we weren't entirely sure what we were trying to 178 00:10:39.600 --> 00:10:42.919 keep out. Despite his caution, my dad was the one 179 00:10:42.960 --> 00:10:46.440 who brought Buddy fresh straw every day, carefully arranging it 180 00:10:46.559 --> 00:10:49.120 so the young Sasquatch had a comfortable place to rest. 181 00:10:50.120 --> 00:10:53.519 I spent hours sitting with Buddy, often in complete silence. 182 00:10:54.120 --> 00:10:56.320 As a kid, I wasn't great at saying the right thing, 183 00:10:56.759 --> 00:10:58.879 so I talked to him about whatever came to mind, 184 00:10:59.399 --> 00:11:01.840 the names of our animals, the chores I had to do, 185 00:11:02.639 --> 00:11:05.960 the way the creek looked in the afternoon light. At first, 186 00:11:06.000 --> 00:11:08.600 I wasn't sure he understood me, but his eyes would 187 00:11:08.639 --> 00:11:11.519 follow me as I spoke, and sometimes he'd make soft, 188 00:11:11.799 --> 00:11:16.399 rumbling noises, as if responding in his own way. One evening, 189 00:11:16.639 --> 00:11:19.399 after a particularly long day of cleaning and dressing his wound, 190 00:11:20.039 --> 00:11:22.720 but he did something that made my heart stop. He 191 00:11:22.840 --> 00:11:26.480 reached out his massive hand, trembling and placed it gently 192 00:11:26.559 --> 00:11:30.200 on my arm. His touch was warm and surprisingly soft, 193 00:11:30.720 --> 00:11:33.320 the rough pads of his fingers brushing against my skin. 194 00:11:34.240 --> 00:11:37.399 It wasn't a gesture of fear or desperation. It felt 195 00:11:37.480 --> 00:11:41.399 like trust. That night, my mom made a decision. We 196 00:11:41.519 --> 00:11:43.879 need to feed him more than just scraps, she said, 197 00:11:44.279 --> 00:11:47.279 as we sat around the kitchen table. He's growing weaker 198 00:11:47.679 --> 00:11:50.639 and he needs real nourishment. What are you thinking, my 199 00:11:50.759 --> 00:11:54.600 dad asked, I'll make a stew, she replied, as if 200 00:11:54.639 --> 00:11:58.879 it were the most obvious thing in the world. Meat, vegetables, broth, 201 00:11:59.320 --> 00:12:03.240 something hard. He needs it. The next day, she brought 202 00:12:03.240 --> 00:12:05.759 a steaming pot to the barn, the smell of beef 203 00:12:05.799 --> 00:12:08.639 and onions filling the air, but he sniffed at the 204 00:12:08.639 --> 00:12:12.039 bowl suspiciously when we offered it. But once he tasted it, 205 00:12:12.440 --> 00:12:15.240 there was no turning back. He ate with a hunger 206 00:12:15.279 --> 00:12:17.279 that made me wonder how long it had been since 207 00:12:17.320 --> 00:12:20.720 he'd had a proper meal. From that point on, feeding 208 00:12:20.759 --> 00:12:24.279 Buddy became part of our daily routine. My mom cooked 209 00:12:24.360 --> 00:12:27.480 extra portions of whatever we were having, always leaving a 210 00:12:27.559 --> 00:12:29.919 pot of stew or a plate of roasted vegetables in 211 00:12:30.000 --> 00:12:33.960 his stall. As the days turned into weeks, Buddy's strength 212 00:12:34.039 --> 00:12:37.840 began to return, his hair regained its luster, his eyes 213 00:12:37.879 --> 00:12:41.120 grew brighter, and he started moving around the stall more freely. 214 00:12:41.960 --> 00:12:44.200 We even caught him watching us from the barn window 215 00:12:44.240 --> 00:12:47.559 one evening, his curious face peering out at the fields. 216 00:12:48.519 --> 00:12:50.159 The first time he stood on his own was a 217 00:12:50.200 --> 00:12:53.519 moment of quiet celebration. My mom and I were sitting 218 00:12:53.600 --> 00:12:57.159 nearby when he slowly rose, using the stall wall for support. 219 00:12:58.120 --> 00:13:00.600 His knees wobbled, but he managed to stand for a 220 00:13:00.679 --> 00:13:04.279 few moments before sinking back down onto the straw. He's 221 00:13:04.320 --> 00:13:08.559 getting stronger, my mom whispered. As he grew stronger, Buddy's 222 00:13:08.559 --> 00:13:12.080 behavior became more interactive. One morning, I brought him a 223 00:13:12.159 --> 00:13:15.720 basket of apples from our orchard. Instead of simply eating them, 224 00:13:16.000 --> 00:13:19.039 he picked one up, studied it carefully, and handed it 225 00:13:19.159 --> 00:13:22.600 back to me, as if asking for reassurance. I laughed 226 00:13:22.639 --> 00:13:25.720 and took a bite, showing him it was safe. After that, 227 00:13:26.159 --> 00:13:30.000 he devoured the rest of the apples with gusto. Another time, 228 00:13:30.320 --> 00:13:32.879 I brought him one of my dad's old blankets, thinking 229 00:13:32.960 --> 00:13:36.480 he might like the extra comfort. To my surprise, he 230 00:13:36.600 --> 00:13:40.440 examined it, then began tearing strips from the edges, twisting 231 00:13:40.519 --> 00:13:44.000 them into a strange knotted pattern. When he was done, 232 00:13:44.080 --> 00:13:46.919 he handed it back to me a clumsy but intricate 233 00:13:47.039 --> 00:13:50.159 design that looked almost like a braid. I didn't know 234 00:13:50.240 --> 00:13:54.039 what it meant, but I kept it. Despite Buddy's progress, 235 00:13:54.360 --> 00:13:57.759 the woods around our farm remained tense. Every few nights 236 00:13:57.799 --> 00:14:01.159 we'd hear tree knocks echoing in the distance, followed by low, 237 00:14:01.360 --> 00:14:04.720 mournful howls. My dad would sit on the porch his 238 00:14:04.879 --> 00:14:08.240 rifle across his lap, not out of malice, but as 239 00:14:08.279 --> 00:14:12.279 a precaution. They're watching, he said. They won him back. 240 00:14:13.480 --> 00:14:15.919 One night, we found a pile of leaves and branches 241 00:14:16.000 --> 00:14:19.639 carefully arranged outside the barn door, almost like a nest. 242 00:14:20.360 --> 00:14:22.480 It was as if his family was trying to create 243 00:14:22.559 --> 00:14:26.440 a space for him to return. My mom, always sensitive 244 00:14:26.480 --> 00:14:29.200 to these gestures, placed a bowl of stew near the pile, 245 00:14:29.639 --> 00:14:32.879 along with a small blanket. The next morning, the stew 246 00:14:33.039 --> 00:14:35.919 was gone and the blanket had been folded into a strange, 247 00:14:36.039 --> 00:14:39.440 tight bundle. The moment that marked the true turning point 248 00:14:39.559 --> 00:14:42.480 came about three weeks after we found Buddy. He was 249 00:14:42.519 --> 00:14:47.000 stronger now, his wound healing nicely and his posture more upright. 250 00:14:47.960 --> 00:14:50.480 One evening, as we sat in the barn, I heard 251 00:14:50.519 --> 00:14:53.600 a sound that sent chills down my spine, a deep, 252 00:14:53.840 --> 00:14:57.159 resonant call from the woods. It was followed by another 253 00:14:57.480 --> 00:15:00.399 closer this time, but Hey perked up a meat mediately, 254 00:15:00.840 --> 00:15:03.879 his head snapping toward the sound. He made a soft 255 00:15:04.120 --> 00:15:07.960 cooing noise and response, his whole body vibrating with excitement. 256 00:15:08.639 --> 00:15:11.440 They're here, my mom whispered, her voice a mix of 257 00:15:11.559 --> 00:15:16.039 relief and fear. And stay tuned for more sasquatchy ott 258 00:15:16.039 --> 00:15:22.240 to see, we'll be right back. After these messages, we 259 00:15:22.360 --> 00:15:25.159 all exchanged a look, knowing what had to come next. 260 00:15:25.879 --> 00:15:28.759 It was time for Buddy to go home. About a 261 00:15:28.799 --> 00:15:31.200 month after we first found Buddy, the signs of his 262 00:15:31.320 --> 00:15:35.559 family became impossible to ignore. We'd hear their calls every evening, 263 00:15:36.000 --> 00:15:38.960 deep and resonant, echoing through the hills like a chorus 264 00:15:39.000 --> 00:15:42.960 of ancient voices. The tree knocks became more frequent, and 265 00:15:43.080 --> 00:15:46.639 on several occasions we'd wait to find enormous footprints circling 266 00:15:46.679 --> 00:15:49.399 the barn, sometimes so close to the walls that it 267 00:15:49.480 --> 00:15:53.200 made my dad nervous. They're coming closer, my mom said 268 00:15:53.240 --> 00:15:55.759 one evening, as we stood on the porch watching the 269 00:15:55.840 --> 00:15:59.679 tree line. It won't be long now. Sure enough, they 270 00:15:59.799 --> 00:16:03.279 arrived two nights later, It was just after sundown, the 271 00:16:03.399 --> 00:16:06.759 last of the day's light fading from the sky. Buddy, 272 00:16:06.759 --> 00:16:09.240 who had been growing more restless with each passing day, 273 00:16:09.679 --> 00:16:13.960 was pacing the barn. He'd been making soft, almost melodic noises, 274 00:16:14.480 --> 00:16:19.799 as if trying to communicate with something or someone far away. Then, 275 00:16:20.320 --> 00:16:24.600 without warning, he stopped. His head tilted and he let 276 00:16:24.639 --> 00:16:28.159 out a low moan. From the woods. Came a response. 277 00:16:28.679 --> 00:16:31.799 It was louder, more powerful, and filled with a mix 278 00:16:31.919 --> 00:16:35.320 of urgency and relief. My dad, who had been fixing 279 00:16:35.360 --> 00:16:39.720 a lantern outside the barn, froze. They're here, he said quietly. 280 00:16:40.799 --> 00:16:43.240 We gathered in the barn, my mom clutching my arm 281 00:16:43.279 --> 00:16:46.360 as we listened to the sounds growing closer. The first 282 00:16:46.399 --> 00:16:49.720 to appear was a massive figure, easily eight feet tall, 283 00:16:50.120 --> 00:16:52.519 stepping out of the shadows at the edge of the woods. 284 00:16:53.240 --> 00:16:56.159 Its hair was a dark, glossy brown, and its eyes 285 00:16:56.240 --> 00:17:00.840 glowed faintly in the lantern light. Behind it, another figure emerged, 286 00:17:01.240 --> 00:17:05.240 slightly smaller, but no less imposing. Their movements were slow 287 00:17:05.319 --> 00:17:08.400 and deliberate, their heads swiveling as they scanned the area. 288 00:17:09.000 --> 00:17:11.400 I realized, with a mix of awe and fear, that 289 00:17:11.480 --> 00:17:14.799 they were Buddy's parents. Buddy, who had been lying on 290 00:17:14.880 --> 00:17:17.480 the straw, shot to his feet. He made a series 291 00:17:17.519 --> 00:17:21.599 of urgent, excited noises, his arms outstretched toward the figures. 292 00:17:22.279 --> 00:17:24.920 His mother, or at least we assumed it was his mother, 293 00:17:25.519 --> 00:17:28.440 let out a high pitched trill, almost like a whistle 294 00:17:28.480 --> 00:17:31.920 as she rushed forward. Buddy limped toward her, and the 295 00:17:32.000 --> 00:17:35.880 two collided in a moment of pure, unfiltered emotion. She 296 00:17:36.000 --> 00:17:38.839 wrapped her long arms around him, pulling him close as 297 00:17:38.880 --> 00:17:43.160 she inspected his wound with careful, gentle hands. The larger figure, 298 00:17:43.359 --> 00:17:46.880 Buddy's father, stood back, watching us with an expression I 299 00:17:46.920 --> 00:17:50.359 could only describe as wary. His deep set eyes locked 300 00:17:50.400 --> 00:17:53.440 onto my dad, who had stepped forward with his hands raised, 301 00:17:53.839 --> 00:17:57.480 palms open. We mean no harm, my dad said softly, 302 00:17:58.079 --> 00:18:01.039 We only wanted to help him. For a moment, the 303 00:18:01.119 --> 00:18:04.160 massive creature didn't move. Then he let out a sound, 304 00:18:04.759 --> 00:18:08.759 low and guttural, almost like a growl. My dad stood 305 00:18:08.839 --> 00:18:12.839 his ground, his voice steady. Look at him. He's alive 306 00:18:12.960 --> 00:18:16.319 because we took care of him. Buddy's father tilted his 307 00:18:16.400 --> 00:18:20.279 head slightly, as if considering my dad's words. Then he 308 00:18:20.319 --> 00:18:24.839 stepped forward. Each movement deliberate, his massive frame, dwarfing my 309 00:18:24.960 --> 00:18:28.640 dad's six foot height. My mom let out a small gasp, 310 00:18:29.000 --> 00:18:32.920 gripping my arm tighter, but my dad didn't flinch. The 311 00:18:33.000 --> 00:18:35.599 giant stopped a few feet away and lowered his head slightly, 312 00:18:36.160 --> 00:18:41.319 a gesture that felt almost respectful. My dad nodded in return, 313 00:18:41.759 --> 00:18:43.759 and for a brief moment, the tension in the air 314 00:18:43.839 --> 00:18:47.759 seemed to lift. Buddy's mother, still holding her son close, 315 00:18:48.119 --> 00:18:51.279 turned toward us and made a sound, a soft, almost 316 00:18:51.440 --> 00:18:55.400 questioning hum. She looked at my mom, her gaze intense 317 00:18:55.480 --> 00:18:59.680 but not threatening. My mom, ever brave, took a cautious 318 00:18:59.680 --> 00:19:02.960 step forward. In her hands, she held a bundle of 319 00:19:03.000 --> 00:19:07.799 herbs and cloth supplies we'd use to treat Buddy's wound. Slowly, 320 00:19:07.880 --> 00:19:10.039 she knelt down and placed the bundle on the ground, 321 00:19:10.519 --> 00:19:14.920 then backed away. The mother approached it cautiously, sniffing the air. 322 00:19:15.720 --> 00:19:18.640 She picked up the bundle and examined it closely, making 323 00:19:18.680 --> 00:19:22.279 a series of soft clicking sounds. Then she did something 324 00:19:22.319 --> 00:19:25.160 that took my breath away. She turned and handed it 325 00:19:25.240 --> 00:19:27.960 to Buddy. He looked at it for a moment, then 326 00:19:28.039 --> 00:19:31.400 back at us, before letting out a low, rumbling purr 327 00:19:31.720 --> 00:19:36.839 that sounded almost like gratitude. Buddy's father stepped forward again, 328 00:19:37.480 --> 00:19:40.799 his towering form casting a long shadow in the lantern light. 329 00:19:41.519 --> 00:19:43.559 He reached down and picked up a small branch from 330 00:19:43.599 --> 00:19:46.519 the ground, breaking it in two with a sharp crack. 331 00:19:47.400 --> 00:19:50.599 Then he handed one half to my dad. My dad hesitated, 332 00:19:50.960 --> 00:19:55.160 then took it, nodding slowly. It felt like a symbolic gesture, 333 00:19:55.640 --> 00:19:58.839 though none of us could fully understand its meaning. The 334 00:19:58.920 --> 00:20:01.880 reunion was bitter wheat. As much as we wanted Buddy 335 00:20:01.960 --> 00:20:04.440 to stay, we knew his place was with his family. 336 00:20:05.240 --> 00:20:08.359 His mother wrapped one arm around his shoulders, steadying him 337 00:20:08.440 --> 00:20:11.079 as he leaned against her. He looked back at us 338 00:20:11.119 --> 00:20:14.039 as they began to retreat toward the woods, his eyes 339 00:20:14.079 --> 00:20:17.880 filled with something I couldn't quite name. But then, just 340 00:20:17.960 --> 00:20:21.359 as they reached the tree line, but he stopped. He 341 00:20:21.480 --> 00:20:25.240 turned and hobbled back toward me, his movement slow but determined. 342 00:20:26.160 --> 00:20:29.000 In his hand he held something, a piece of the 343 00:20:29.039 --> 00:20:32.119 blanket I'd given him weeks ago, now twisted into a 344 00:20:32.160 --> 00:20:35.480 braided ring. He held it out to me, his amber 345 00:20:35.599 --> 00:20:39.519 eyes locking onto mine. I took it, my hands trembling, 346 00:20:39.920 --> 00:20:42.200 and he let out a soft rumble before turning back 347 00:20:42.240 --> 00:20:45.759 to his family. The three of them disappeared into the woods, 348 00:20:46.200 --> 00:20:50.160 their massive forms melting into the shadows. The sounds of 349 00:20:50.200 --> 00:20:53.880 their footsteps faded, replaced by the familiar chirps of crickets 350 00:20:54.119 --> 00:20:57.680 and the rustle of leaves in the wind. The next morning, 351 00:20:57.759 --> 00:20:59.559 we found something waiting for us at the edge of 352 00:20:59.599 --> 00:21:04.000 the wood, a small pile of gifts. There were polished stones, 353 00:21:04.400 --> 00:21:08.440 colorful feathers, and a beautifully woven wreath of twigs and vines. 354 00:21:09.160 --> 00:21:12.000 It felt like a thank you, a gesture of acknowledgment 355 00:21:12.079 --> 00:21:15.680 for what we had done. Over the years, the gifts continued. 356 00:21:16.319 --> 00:21:19.480 Occasionally we'd find firewood stacked neatly by the barn, or 357 00:21:19.559 --> 00:21:23.319 baskets of wild berries left on our porch, and sometimes 358 00:21:23.400 --> 00:21:26.240 in the quiet moments of dawn or dusk, we'd catch 359 00:21:26.279 --> 00:21:28.960 glimpses of them at the edge of the woods, watching, 360 00:21:29.519 --> 00:21:33.799 always watching. While our relationship with the Sasquatch family grew, 361 00:21:34.319 --> 00:21:38.079 it wasn't always without challenges. Old Man Brown, who had 362 00:21:38.079 --> 00:21:40.599 always been quick to pull the trigger, saw one of 363 00:21:40.640 --> 00:21:44.000 them near his property and fired a warning shot. That night, 364 00:21:44.079 --> 00:21:47.319 his chicken coop was smashed, and his prize rooster was gone. 365 00:21:48.160 --> 00:21:51.440 He didn't shoot at them again. Another time, a group 366 00:21:51.480 --> 00:21:54.119 of hikers wandered onto our land and stumbled across what 367 00:21:54.240 --> 00:21:58.680 looked like a sasquatch nest. They left, terrified, spreading rumors 368 00:21:58.720 --> 00:22:02.319 of monsters in the woods. My dad spent weeks patrolling 369 00:22:02.359 --> 00:22:05.279 the property, worried someone might come back looking for trouble. 370 00:22:05.920 --> 00:22:10.079 But through it all, the connection remained. Buddy's family and 371 00:22:10.200 --> 00:22:13.440 perhaps others like them, seemed to understand that we were different, 372 00:22:14.039 --> 00:22:16.519 that we had cared for one of their own, and 373 00:22:16.680 --> 00:22:19.480 in return, they watched over us in ways we couldn't 374 00:22:19.480 --> 00:22:23.240 always see, but deeply felt. In the years following Buddy's 375 00:22:23.279 --> 00:22:26.240 reunion with his family, life on the farm changed in 376 00:22:26.359 --> 00:22:30.640 ways we never could have imagined. The sasquatch once figures 377 00:22:30.640 --> 00:22:33.960 of mystery and fear, became an unspoken but ever present 378 00:22:34.039 --> 00:22:37.319 part of our lives. It wasn't a relationship defined by 379 00:22:37.400 --> 00:22:40.480 words or direct communication, at least not in the way 380 00:22:40.559 --> 00:22:45.440 humans communicate, but through actions, gestures, and a shared understanding. 381 00:22:46.359 --> 00:22:51.480 The gifts started small polished stones, intricately woven wreaths, and 382 00:22:51.599 --> 00:22:53.799 bundles of wild herbs left at the edge of the 383 00:22:53.880 --> 00:22:58.000 woods or beside the barn. My mom, ever gracious, began 384 00:22:58.160 --> 00:23:02.039 leaving her own offerings in return, baskets of fruit, jars 385 00:23:02.079 --> 00:23:05.519 of honey, and fresh baked bread wrapped in cloth. The 386 00:23:05.599 --> 00:23:10.279 exchanges felt almost ceremonial, a quiet acknowledgment of mutual respect. 387 00:23:11.240 --> 00:23:14.640 One summer morning, we found something truly remarkable, a wooden 388 00:23:14.720 --> 00:23:17.839 carving of a deer. It's details so intricate that it 389 00:23:17.920 --> 00:23:21.359 looked almost alive. My dad held it in his hands, 390 00:23:21.759 --> 00:23:25.599 marveling at the craftsmanship. This isn't just a gift, he said, 391 00:23:26.319 --> 00:23:29.880 This is a message they're telling us, they're watching, that 392 00:23:30.000 --> 00:23:33.599 they know us. Over time, we began to notice their 393 00:23:33.640 --> 00:23:37.640 presence in more tangible ways. During storms, when the wind 394 00:23:37.759 --> 00:23:41.160 howled and the trees bent dangerously low, we'd wake to 395 00:23:41.240 --> 00:23:44.400 find our livestock herded into safer areas of the pasture, 396 00:23:44.920 --> 00:23:48.319 despite no one in our family having moved them. Once, 397 00:23:48.400 --> 00:23:51.200 after a flash flood swept through the lower fields, we 398 00:23:51.319 --> 00:23:54.720 discovered a makeshift dam of branches and rocks built along 399 00:23:54.799 --> 00:23:57.920 the creek to redirect the water. My dad swore it 400 00:23:58.000 --> 00:24:00.640 hadn't been there the day before. There were nights when 401 00:24:00.680 --> 00:24:03.319