Speaker 1: I have a story to tell of a Bigfoot non encounter,
Speaker 1: more like a sensory evidence event than anything else. It
Speaker 1: is both unusual and entertaining in that it took place
Speaker 1: before I knew of the reality of Bigfoot. There I
Speaker 1: was in the woods, confronted with the evidence of that
Speaker 1: exact reality, and was utterly unable to process it. It
Speaker 1: was a summer of nineteen seventy five in the northeastern
Speaker 1: United States. I was hiking the Northville Lake Placid Trail
Speaker 1: in New York's Adirondack State Park. Just for scale, I'll
Speaker 1: tell you that the Adirondack State Park is a bit
Speaker 1: larger than the entire state of New Jersey, where I
Speaker 1: was living then. I was hiking alone for a few days,
Speaker 1: letting my pioneer spirit have its way. I was on
Speaker 1: my first day. I was in good physical shape and
Speaker 1: the miles melted under me. The hike was fantastic, and
Speaker 1: the trail was in very good repair. I felt as
Speaker 1: though I was bounding along. Nature was all around me,
Speaker 1: and thankfully the black flies had not yet appeared. As
Speaker 1: long as I kept moving, the sweat I produced evaporated
Speaker 1: nicely with the occasional forest to breeze. So far, I
Speaker 1: had met no one, My pack didn't feel too heavy,
Speaker 1: and I was really enjoying myself. I had arrived on
Speaker 1: the trail around one PM after the drive up from
Speaker 1: New Jersey, and I walked the afternoon until near dusk,
Speaker 1: and then I set up camp. I didn't build a fire,
Speaker 1: so I was able to watch and see the forest
Speaker 1: around me without the glare of the fire's bright wall
Speaker 1: holding back the night. No need for a tent fly.
Speaker 1: The weather was perfect, the stars were everywhere. So far,
Speaker 1: what a trip to evade some persistent mosquitoes, I went
Speaker 1: into the tent and zipped the mess shut. I settled
Speaker 1: on top of a sleeping bag, and I took out
Speaker 1: my map and pen like for a once over of
Speaker 1: tomorrow's trek. Reading the contour lines, I saw that there
Speaker 1: were some interesting looking spaces along the way, a little
Speaker 1: over three miles off the trail. I really don't know
Speaker 1: the reason I chose to go there. It just looked interesting,
Speaker 1: that's all. Looking back, I like to feel that I
Speaker 1: was drawn there for some reason. I don't know. I
Speaker 1: loved orienteering and I just needed somewhere to go. Perhaps subconsciously,
Speaker 1: I hoped I would find something later. After I cooked
Speaker 1: my supper on a white gas stove inside the vestibule
Speaker 1: of the tent, I removed my compass from its leather case,
Speaker 1: and I began to develop bearings away from the trail
Speaker 1: for the next day's height. When I'm alone, I like
Speaker 1: to do things to break up the monotony, and for
Speaker 1: tomorrow this would be it. I settled back into a
Speaker 1: happy sleep and awaited the dawn, anticipating the map adventure
Speaker 1: to come. I awoke alert and rested, and I felt
Speaker 1: as though I had been sleeping on a cloud. It
Speaker 1: was more of a recollection of a night than a feeling.
Speaker 1: If you can imagine that, it's something you strive to
Speaker 1: get again. Usually there's a noisy dawn chorus of birds
Speaker 1: to start the day, but all I heard that morning
Speaker 1: were crows. I ate a fast breakfast of coffee, cold
Speaker 1: hard bulled egg, washed up, packed up, and I was
Speaker 1: eager to get on the bushwhack, as we called it
Speaker 1: back then, when one leaves the trail and goes off
Speaker 1: into the woods, fading into the tree line. I hiked
Speaker 1: on down to a stream which showed up on the
Speaker 1: map as crossing the trail, and I filled up my
Speaker 1: gray water bottle for boiling later. I had enough water
Speaker 1: for the trip off trail and back. I turned right,
Speaker 1: walked a few steps, turned around, and took a back
Speaker 1: bearing on the trail, using it as my baseline for
Speaker 1: the return. I had everything well mapped out on paper,
Speaker 1: but there's nothing like being really sure of things when
Speaker 1: you're alone. So I ducked my head and left the trail,
Speaker 1: taking a bearing on a large oak, and I started
Speaker 1: walking towards it. That's what you do when you're hiking
Speaker 1: off trail. You go via object bearing, object bearing, object
Speaker 1: bearing until you can see further. Then it's still the same,
Speaker 1: only the objects such as a tree, a large rock,
Speaker 1: or some other feature on the landscape stands out. The
Speaker 1: course wasn't exactly a straight line. I had planned it
Speaker 1: that way to add a little more of a challenge
Speaker 1: to it, so I had to pace off a few
Speaker 1: out of view objects until I was back in line
Speaker 1: and back on course to the terminus of my bushwhack.
Speaker 1: I was playing soldier and I was really enjoying myself.
Speaker 1: After I left the trail, I started hearing the birds again,
Speaker 1: also scurrying squirrels, who hated the stranger that was in
Speaker 1: their world. Now, when you're off trail, you can tell
Speaker 1: a whole lot better what kind of woods you're in.
Speaker 1: The briars and berry bushes get culled from the trail
Speaker 1: during routine trail maintenance. Sometimes that sort of gives the
Speaker 1: trail a generic park kind of look. I don't like that,
Speaker 1: but the walking is easier. I guess we humans liked
Speaker 1: to make parks, but parks in the woods seem out
Speaker 1: of place. The trees were fairly dense, and vines were about,
Speaker 1: and the leaf litter was pretty noisy. As I walked.
Speaker 1: There were humid areas in some of the darker, more
Speaker 1: sheltered gullies, but as long as I moved along, it
Speaker 1: wasn't too much of a discomfort. I stopped often to
Speaker 1: admire and investigate the flora and the fauna along the way.
Speaker 1: There were flowers, there were vultures up high, birds, bugs
Speaker 1: and rodents, and they all worth a look. By now,
Speaker 1: I was about an hour and a half into the
Speaker 1: trip and was a bit tired from all the stooping
Speaker 1: I had been doing with the now heavy pack. I'm
Speaker 1: six foot six, and in some places I had a
Speaker 1: lot of bending to do. I needed to drink and
Speaker 1: took off my pack to sit down. I was a
Speaker 1: little more winded than I thought I was, and wasn't
Speaker 1: really paying attention too much. I just wanted a little
Speaker 1: rest in a drink of cool water. I flopped down
Speaker 1: on a high rock and excelled in relief. I raised
Speaker 1: my water bottle to drink, and as the cool, clean
Speaker 1: water went down my parched throat, I saw a dark
Speaker 1: shape up in the air, just a little off to
Speaker 1: my right. Gradually, as I began to get rested and
Speaker 1: gather my humidified wits about me again, I could see
Speaker 1: that I was just on the edge of, and a
Speaker 1: little above, what could be described as a clearing in
Speaker 1: the loosest of terms. Actually, it looked like someone had
Speaker 1: tried to build a fort or something, but they just
Speaker 1: couldn't get it right. There were tree trunks which looked
Speaker 1: like they were deliberately placed, but not in the right
Speaker 1: way to make them into something definite. Wait a minute,
Speaker 1: I was looking off to the left now and was
Speaker 1: really a bit amazed at the same time and disturbed
Speaker 1: by what I saw. There was a tree about a
Speaker 1: foot and a half or so across which had its
Speaker 1: bark scraped off. I think it was an oak, but
Speaker 1: it could have been something else. I was looking at
Speaker 1: the scraped part. It was lighter than the rest of
Speaker 1: the tree, which went from about four feet off the
Speaker 1: ground to about a foot path where I could reach,
Speaker 1: making it ten or eleven feet up, no problem, except
Speaker 1: there were claw marks on it, four claws together at
Speaker 1: nearly right angles to the trunk all the way up.
Speaker 1: I was astounded when I saw that. My hackles immediately
Speaker 1: went up, as I thought it may have been a
Speaker 1: grizzly or a large brown bear. I started looking around
Speaker 1: in real earnest. It had gotten very very quiet. Those
Speaker 1: claw marks were at least I would say, a minimum
Speaker 1: of a quarter inch wide, sometimes a little more into
Speaker 1: the wood. The tree was green, it was not rotted
Speaker 1: in the least. I couldn't make those marks easily with
Speaker 1: a saw and an axe if I had to. What
Speaker 1: was I looking at? What made those marks? I never
Speaker 1: found out. Today I would have taken pictures with my
Speaker 1: cell phone, but back then we didn't have cell phones.
Speaker 1: I've never seen anything like that again, and I had
Speaker 1: never seen it before that. At that point, I needed
Speaker 1: to look at this thing closer. I had successfully gotten
Speaker 1: my jaw back into place from looking at the tree
Speaker 1: trunk when it fell open again, this time by virtue
Speaker 1: of what I saw up in the crutch of a tree.
Speaker 1: There again, ten or eleven feet up in the air
Speaker 1: was a very big heavy tree stump dirt, and all
Speaker 1: that thing weighed three hundred pounds if it weighed an ounce.
Speaker 1: I had done some logging as a teenager, and I
Speaker 1: knew my wood weights. They could kill you if you
Speaker 1: misjudged them. You can rely on it that I got
Speaker 1: the stumps weight right. It was a biggin. I look
Speaker 1: for more stumps in the air, but there were none.
Speaker 1: By now you can imagine how all was feeling, not
Speaker 1: quite flight or fight yet, but approaching something close to it.
Speaker 1: None of the large, close to one foot or more
Speaker 1: diameter logs which were stuck up in trees or crisscross
Speaker 1: standing on the ground had been sawn. They had been
Speaker 1: broken off and placed there. I couldn't find the sockets
Speaker 1: that they belonged in either back when I was logging.
Speaker 1: If we were to have done such a thing, it
Speaker 1: would have taken a log skiter and many feet of
Speaker 1: cable and chain to get the logs up there. I
Speaker 1: took my time. I walked about the area and I
Speaker 1: looked for signs. I really had no idea what to
Speaker 1: look for, and I poked and I searched. Then I
Speaker 1: sniffed the air, and I did all the chemo sabby
Speaker 1: stuff and came up just as clueless as when I started.
Speaker 1: I kept telling myself that there has to be something,
Speaker 1: but I never found it. The crime scene was clean,
Speaker 1: the bodies were there, but there was no sign of
Speaker 1: a weapon. It looked like the perpetrator got away. Remember
Speaker 1: this was nineteen seventy five and there was no internet.
Speaker 1: There were no cell phones, no way to snap a picture.
Speaker 1: I had no idea what I was observing. I just
Speaker 1: knew it was darned odd. So I sat down on
Speaker 1: that rock and surmised and contemplated, and I guessed and
Speaker 1: formulated and worried at what I was seeing. At that time.
Speaker 1: In those years, everything was supposed to have a logical, scientific,
Speaker 1: exit explanation, so I sat down to make one. And
Speaker 1: my theory was that it was a micro tornado. Yeah,
Speaker 1: that was the ticket. But wait, there was too much
Speaker 1: mass thrown about in too little of an area, with
Speaker 1: too little damage to the surrounding trees, so it couldn't
Speaker 1: be that. After sitting there and pondering and wondering for
Speaker 1: most of the afternoon, I had to return to the
Speaker 1: trail and I needed to get going. I burned my
Speaker 1: brain for days after trying to come up with something
Speaker 1: to explain it, but I couldn't. Everyone I explained it
Speaker 1: to couldn't grasp the scale of the scene, so no
Speaker 1: new offerings or explanations arose. Today, I would almost immediately
Speaker 1: say it was definitely a bigfoot. Time is a funny thing.
Speaker 1: I hope your audience can understand the land of Oz
Speaker 1: I found myself in so suddenly on that day. Even
Speaker 1: back then, it was obvious that something big had happened there,
Speaker 1: and whatever did it could just as easily do it again.
Speaker 1: And no, I definitely do not have an explanation for
Speaker 1: the scratches either. Over the years, I have noticed that
Speaker 1: possibly the only thing that could have made the marks
Speaker 1: like that was a giant tree sloth. But why, I'd
Speaker 1: like to apologize and say that I cannot give this
Speaker 1: story a more cogent ending like seeing a bigfoot, But
Speaker 1: I like to think that maybe he or she was
Speaker 1: there somewhere watching and laughing at me the whole time.
Speaker 1: My name is Joe, and I live in East Texas.
Speaker 1: We have a small farm where we keep cattle, goats,
Speaker 1: and a few horses and other small animals. And we
Speaker 1: grow of vegetables for our family and ourselves, and a
Speaker 1: couple of big fields of millet or corn to help
Speaker 1: feed our stock. I'm not a big farmer or rancher.
Speaker 1: I just love this life. I grew up this way
Speaker 1: on a larger farm my grandfather runs to this day.
Speaker 1: I bought a few acres from him when I was
Speaker 1: in my twenties and just carried on with what I
Speaker 1: grew up doing. All that said, I don't make a
Speaker 1: living off this like my family does. I travel and
Speaker 1: I work pipelines. I'm a welder. Sometimes I'm gone for
Speaker 1: a month or more, traveling to wherever the money is
Speaker 1: at the time. My wife is able to take care
Speaker 1: of things at home with my two sons and my
Speaker 1: father's help. I have one neighbor about a mile down
Speaker 1: the road. I tried to get to know the guy,
Speaker 1: but he is one of these homesteadter types, you know,
Speaker 1: the people who never worked the land or animals in
Speaker 1: their life. They buy ten acres in the country and
Speaker 1: set up a house, and they try to go back
Speaker 1: to the early nineteen hundreds or eighteen hundreds by working
Speaker 1: the land with a hoe, yes, I know the type.
Speaker 1: They buy a few chickens and goats, and then they
Speaker 1: tell you how hard they were and how much they
Speaker 1: know about everything agricultural. Don't get me wrong, I'm all
Speaker 1: for folks going back to the land and living that way.
Speaker 1: But a lot of these homesteaders are real goofball know
Speaker 1: it alls, and they annoy me. There are probably a
Speaker 1: few good ones. I have asked him to be available
Speaker 1: to help my wife with things she might need if
Speaker 1: she gets in a buying I mean we are neighbors.
Speaker 1: He says he will, But when she called him once
Speaker 1: to help her catch one of our horses that had
Speaker 1: gotten out, he refused because he said he was down
Speaker 1: in his back. That is all it took from my
Speaker 1: wife to nix that idea. But he sure has no
Speaker 1: problems asking me to use one of my tractors to
Speaker 1: do a job the very next weekend. Then he does
Speaker 1: a YouTube video showing everyone how hard his life was
Speaker 1: getting that hundred by hundred foot field ready to plant.
Speaker 1: I watched the video, and his back seemed fine to me.
Speaker 1: It may sound like I'm going off on a tangent
Speaker 1: here with these homesteaders, but I'll get back to him
Speaker 1: in a minute. Here's the thing. We have wild pigs
Speaker 1: in our county. We have a lot of them. On
Speaker 1: winter nights, my sons and I like to scope out
Speaker 1: a field with our night vision scopes and shoot them.
Speaker 1: We try to kill as many as we can. First,
Speaker 1: it's a lot of fun. Second, they are a very
Speaker 1: destructive animal around here and all over Texas. Really, last,
Speaker 1: who wouldn't like shooting feral pigs at night with an
Speaker 1: effing night vision scope? Last January, around New Year's I
Speaker 1: had taken off a few weeks to spend with my
Speaker 1: family over the holidays. My two teenage boys were getting
Speaker 1: rowdy and wanting to go to some party one of
Speaker 1: their buddies was throwing a few miles away. I didn't
Speaker 1: like the idea. They had gone to several parties in
Speaker 1: the past, but for some reason, my wife and I
Speaker 1: both didn't feel good about this one and told them
Speaker 1: I was going to shoot up a field that night
Speaker 1: and they were welcome to come along. Look, these boys
Speaker 1: are seventeen year old twins by the way, and they
Speaker 1: lived to hunt, and they canceled their party plans right there.
Speaker 1: I knew they would, and my wife smiled at me
Speaker 1: when she saw their response. Boy, do I know how
Speaker 1: to work those teenagers. We got to one of my
Speaker 1: grandfather's fields around ten pm and set up under an
Speaker 1: irrigation system. The field has a slightly downhill slope with
Speaker 1: a line of sight all the way to the woods
Speaker 1: that line the bottom land about three hundred yards away. Oh,
Speaker 1: and we had piled up corn in that field for bait.
Speaker 1: That always guarantees a good shoot. We threw out some
Speaker 1: square haybells for rifle rest, and we set up. There
Speaker 1: had been pigs there when we drove in, and it
Speaker 1: took an hour or so for them to all come back.
Speaker 1: After the distraction we caused driving in and setting up,
Speaker 1: the first half dozen trotted back to the corn pile.
Speaker 1: It was not long before there were a third thirty
Speaker 1: or forty pigs chowing down on the bait. I let
Speaker 1: my boys start shooting, and they knocked down four or
Speaker 1: maybe six pigs. We could clearly see our targets with
Speaker 1: these scopes. Most of the pigs left and we waited.
Speaker 1: We knew they would be back soon and we would
Speaker 1: start the process all over again. The boys were drinking
Speaker 1: cokes in the interim, and I was sipping on coffee
Speaker 1: from a thermous and we were all eating some of
Speaker 1: my wife's world famous pecan pie. It was a good night.
Speaker 1: I loved doing these things with my boys, and life
Speaker 1: was really good that night. One of the boys leaned
Speaker 1: back over the bail and scope the field. I just
Speaker 1: happened to look over at him, and he lowered his
Speaker 1: rifle to the bail and looked into the field intently.
Speaker 1: Are they back for more? I asked him. He didn't answer.
Speaker 1: I just watched him move his head back into position
Speaker 1: to look through his scope. Everything got really quiet. We
Speaker 1: figured it was shooting time again, and we headed back
Speaker 1: to the bells. Then my son raised his head again
Speaker 1: in the darkness, and he said, Dad, there's something in
Speaker 1: that field, but it's not a pig. I looked through
Speaker 1: my scope and illuminated in white was a large figure
Speaker 1: close to the ground. These scopes do not show images
Speaker 1: that are not there. There was something crawling on the
Speaker 1: ground in the mud, towards the pigs we had killed
Speaker 1: thirty minutes before. Everything about it was strange, but mostly
Speaker 1: the way it moved. It acted like it was sneaking
Speaker 1: up on the dead pigs. It was hard to make
Speaker 1: out exactly what this thing was, and none of us
Speaker 1: even thought about taking a shot at it, just our
Speaker 1: luck it would be some sort of endangered predator and
Speaker 1: we would go to jail for killing it. But it
Speaker 1: was the way it moved it was hard to explain.
Speaker 1: The only way I can convey it to you is
Speaker 1: to refer back to some horror movies I've seen, were
Speaker 1: these ghosts and people move in a real jerky type
Speaker 1: stop motion. It would creep slowly on all fours and
Speaker 1: then speed up, then slow down, and it looked like
Speaker 1: it would turn its head and body back towards the
Speaker 1: tree line, as if it was looking at something behind it. Well,
Speaker 1: needless to say, the pigs that were there all scattered.
Speaker 1: It soon made it to the dead pigs, which were
Speaker 1: also illuminated in our scopes. They were still warm on
Speaker 1: this cold night. It reached out and grabbed a pig
Speaker 1: and started back to the woods. We just watched it,
Speaker 1: and then it stopped fifty or sixty yards from the
Speaker 1: tree line. It stood straight up and through the pig
Speaker 1: by the leg. The whole distance back to the trees.
Speaker 1: We could see the pig lofted in the air, flipping
Speaker 1: end over end, and I could actually hear it break
Speaker 1: through the limbs and hit the ground. Then this thing
Speaker 1: stood up and was standing on two legs like a man.
Speaker 1: It stood fully erect and through the pig like it
Speaker 1: was a softball, with a long, arcing side arm motion.
Speaker 1: I don't know how tall it was, but it was big.
Speaker 1: I moved my rifle a few inches to the right,
Speaker 1: and I could see several more of these things inside
Speaker 1: the thick woods, rushing towards the pig that had just
Speaker 1: landed in the mud. They were all standing straight up,
Speaker 1: they weren't crawling like this one. There were maybe four
Speaker 1: or five of them, And the boys saw all of
Speaker 1: this too, and never said a word. This thing then
Speaker 1: turned back on all fours. It began making its way
Speaker 1: back to the dead pig still laying in the field,
Speaker 1: moving at a greater rate of speed than before, in
Speaker 1: that freaky, jerking sort of way. It looked like it
Speaker 1: was a crab. Actually, what the hell is that thing? Dad,
Speaker 1: one of the boys to ask, I don't know, just
Speaker 1: be quiet. Let's see what this thing does. We watched
Speaker 1: as the thing went through the whole process of reving
Speaker 1: pigs one at a time and returning to throw it
Speaker 1: into the woods for its buddies. I could see one
Speaker 1: last pig in the field, and the creature was moving
Speaker 1: towards it. One of the boys must have moved because
Speaker 1: a coke can fell off the bail and landed on
Speaker 1: an AMMO box laying on the ground, making a clanking sound.
Speaker 1: I looked over at my son and he was looking
Speaker 1: down at the ground. No big deal, I thought, No
Speaker 1: way this thing heard that as far away as we were.
Speaker 1: When I leaned over to get my eye back in
Speaker 1: the scope, I saw the creature standing beside the last pig.
Speaker 1: But he was standing upright, and he was looking straight
Speaker 1: at us. None of us said a word, but we
Speaker 1: all knew we had been made. It dropped to all
Speaker 1: fours and started moving at a very fast rate of
Speaker 1: speed right at us. It was running on four limbs
Speaker 1: like a gorilla does, sometimes skipping one arm or the other,
Speaker 1: like it was run on three legs instead of four. Boys.
Speaker 1: Get in the truck and get it started, I said.
Speaker 1: I never took my eye out of that scope. The
Speaker 1: boys didn't need encouragement. I could hear them moving quickly
Speaker 1: to the truck a few yards behind us. Then I
Speaker 1: heard the truck start, and I began a backwards creep
Speaker 1: while keeping my eye in the scope. I didn't want
Speaker 1: to lose sight of this thing. I was going to
Speaker 1: have to take a shot to stop it. It was
Speaker 1: moving too fast for me to make it to the
Speaker 1: truck in time. I lowered the mill dot to a
Speaker 1: few feet in front of the charging animal and squeezed
Speaker 1: off three rounds, kicking up mud into the oncoming beast.
Speaker 1: It stopped its charged about thirty yards in front of
Speaker 1: the bales. By this time I was even with the
Speaker 1: lowered tailgate, and I rolled over into the bed of
Speaker 1: the truck and slammed my hand on the sidewalls. My
Speaker 1: son punched the gas pedal, and off we shot down
Speaker 1: the gravel road. I finally got myself upright in the
Speaker 1: bed of the moving truck and tried to look through
Speaker 1: the darkness and my scope, but there was no way
Speaker 1: to get a good field of view. As my son
Speaker 1: tore down the gravel road, the back window opened and
Speaker 1: one of the boys asked if I was okay. I
Speaker 1: yelled for them to stop the truck, and we came
Speaker 1: to a slow stop. I looked back into the field
Speaker 1: at what I thought was a safe distance, and acquired
Speaker 1: the beast again. As it walked slowly back to the woods,
Speaker 1: it picked up the last dead pig by its rear
Speaker 1: leg and continued to walk in a confident manner all
Speaker 1: the way back to the woods, where, illuminated and white
Speaker 1: again were four more of the same shapes now standing
Speaker 1: in the open field. They all had a pig in
Speaker 1: their grip. I heard a loud moan over the sound
Speaker 1: of the truck engine rumbling in that cold air. I
Speaker 1: saw the one who did it. He tilted his head
Speaker 1: back and he stuck his chest out, and then howled
Speaker 1: like a wolf, but with a much deeper tone. And
Speaker 1: they all walked back into the woods and disappeared. We
Speaker 1: got the heck out of there and went home to
Speaker 1: a warm and safe house. Two weeks later, I was
Speaker 1: driving past my homesteader neighbor's house. He and his wife, who,
Speaker 1: by the way, never spoke to my wife or I.
Speaker 1: She was religious or something and thought it was sinful
Speaker 1: to talk to people not in her religion were loading
Speaker 1: their truck with furniture. I stopped and asked what was
Speaker 1: going on with a weird, ghostly look on his face.
Speaker 1: The man told me that they were going back to
Speaker 1: their other house in Dallas, something about a family member
Speaker 1: needed care, and they probably wouldn't be back. He offered
Speaker 1: to sell his place to me right there on the spot,
Speaker 1: which surprised me. Of course, I declined I didn't need
Speaker 1: that old swampy land they had bought. Not too long
Speaker 1: after that, I ran into the sheriff and he asked
Speaker 1: me about those people, where the heck they were, etc.
Speaker 1: I told him that they had moved. He laughed and
Speaker 1: told me about a call his office had gotten from
Speaker 1: them the night that we saw the creatures in the field.
Speaker 1: Apparently they had been terrorized that night by a pack
Speaker 1: of monsters. He made a big joke out of the thing,
Speaker 1: and I laughed with him, all the while knowing that
Speaker 1: the story was true. I went on my way and
Speaker 1: felt a little bad about my homestead er friend who
Speaker 1: were run off their land by a pack of bigfoots.
Speaker 1: But honestly, I don't think I'm gonna miss them too much.
Speaker 1: So yes, we have bigfoot in our area. I had
Speaker 1: heard about them a few times, but had never run
Speaker 1: into them until that night. We just don't talk about
Speaker 1: it in general conversation with anyone. I mean, really, who
Speaker 1: would believe us?