Speaker 1: My bigfoot encounter happened in the summer of my eighth year.
Speaker 1: We lived on the outskirts of Bates Full, Arkansas, on
Speaker 1: a farm. At this age, I spent every minute that
Speaker 1: I could outside. On a hot day in July, I
Speaker 1: was making my rounds around our place. I spent a
Speaker 1: lot of time looking for critters around a big pond
Speaker 1: on the northwest corner of our land. Catching frogs and
Speaker 1: turtles and snakes was one of my favorite things to do.
Speaker 1: It was an ordinary day, really. Birds were chirping and
Speaker 1: insects were singing. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until
Speaker 1: all the noise from the nearby wildlife stopped. I noticed
Speaker 1: it right away. At that moment, I was ankled deep
Speaker 1: in the water and mud. I stopped looking for animals,
Speaker 1: and I tried to take it all in. It was
Speaker 1: like the moon of that place went dark and time
Speaker 1: slowed down. But I couldn't figure out why. My dog
Speaker 1: moved around in front of me, looking at a huge
Speaker 1: oak tree across the fence. We both stared at it
Speaker 1: for a minute. Maybe he knew what was there, but
Speaker 1: I couldn't see anything. When you look at something long enough,
Speaker 1: shapes began to form, and I saw what looked like
Speaker 1: a man hiding behind the tree, maybe the outline of
Speaker 1: his shoulder and a leg. My dog began to growl.
Speaker 1: Something was there. I caught a whiff of a strange
Speaker 1: odor that I mistook for the mud I was standing
Speaker 1: in walk around in a muddy pond, and all sorts
Speaker 1: of smells boil up, but this odor was different. I
Speaker 1: walked towards the tree to sea better. At this point,
Speaker 1: I was only fifteen or twenty yards away from the tree,
Speaker 1: I saw a hand wrap around a branch that was
Speaker 1: six feet above the ground. I've never seen anything like
Speaker 1: It looked like an FX effect from a horror movie.
Speaker 1: I expected to see its face peak around the trunk
Speaker 1: because the way it was moving was like it wanted
Speaker 1: to look at me, but it never did. I just
Speaker 1: stared at that hand. I couldn't take my eyes off
Speaker 1: of it. The skin was dark gray, with dark brown,
Speaker 1: almost black hair covering all but the fingers. The nails
Speaker 1: were long and black. They actually looked perfectly groomed from
Speaker 1: that distance, but I'm sure they weren't. The nails looked
Speaker 1: like a woman's nails after she has had a manicure.
Speaker 1: They were long and symmetrical, and the knuckles were oversized
Speaker 1: and obvious. But one thing I knew for sure, I
Speaker 1: did not want those hands on me. Its hands were giant,
Speaker 1: and it could have completely covered my eight year old head.
Speaker 1: Something cracked in the brush grown up around the tree,
Speaker 1: and my dog left me sprinting straight to the house
Speaker 1: a quarter mile away. I was right behind him, running
Speaker 1: hard and barefoot through that field. I made it home
Speaker 1: in record time. I never told my folks what I saw.
Speaker 1: I probably should have. I was eight years old and
Speaker 1: I didn't know what to do. Later in years, I
Speaker 1: told one of my friends, and he believes me. He
Speaker 1: has had an encounter himself. I also confided in my wife.
Speaker 1: She thinks I'm crazy. I know what I saw. I'm
Speaker 1: now twenty two years old, and I've had one more
Speaker 1: encounter since then. I'll send that at another time. Thanks
Speaker 1: for telling my story. I know I can't spell worth
Speaker 1: the crap. Dyslexia is my enemy. Oh man, uh No,
Speaker 1: I can't spell worth the crap either. I mean sometimes
Speaker 1: I even put marquees on these videos and I spell
Speaker 1: the word wrong. I should do a spell check, I guess,
Speaker 1: but I don't know. I get a little impatient, and
Speaker 1: it looks good to me, so I'll let it fly
Speaker 1: in dyslexia. Dude, you wrote a good story. I fixed
Speaker 1: it up for you. That was a couple of things
Speaker 1: I didn't understand, but I got it straight. So it's
Speaker 1: a good story. And uh, I know Batesville. I've got
Speaker 1: my family has a place over there, close to Grier's
Speaker 1: Ferry go through Braatesville every time we go over there.
Speaker 1: Love that racetrack over there in Batesville. I've never been
Speaker 1: to a racetrack, but I like driving by it, and
Speaker 1: every time I drive by it, I think I'm gonna
Speaker 1: go to the races here one summer, but I never
Speaker 1: have been able to. But anyways, a great story. And dude,
Speaker 1: if you get a minute to write that other encounter,
Speaker 1: make sure and send it to me. All right, I
Speaker 1: appreciate it. Let's go to the next one. Okay, this
Speaker 1: story is a paranormal story. I don't know if it's true.
Speaker 1: I think it's probably not, but it's a damn good story.
Speaker 1: So you know the drill, put that chin strap on
Speaker 1: your twope, glue your dentures in because this is a
Speaker 1: good one. All right, Let's get going with it. In
Speaker 1: nineteen eighty five, I was traveling in the northwest part
Speaker 1: of Utah. I was dozing off behind the wheel, so
Speaker 1: I opted to pull into a hotel motel for the night.
Speaker 1: After I flipped the mattress over for a quick bedbug
Speaker 1: check and search the fixtures for video cameras. You never
Speaker 1: know about these out of the way places. I flopped
Speaker 1: down on the bed. For whatever reason, I couldn't get
Speaker 1: the television to work, so I gave up and thumbed
Speaker 1: through a small stack of magazines on the nightstand. An
Speaker 1: article caught my eye about an old silver mining town.
Speaker 1: It stated that a theater company was willing to pay
Speaker 1: for new hires to serve as re enactors portraying characters
Speaker 1: from the Old West for tourists. With visions of the
Speaker 1: movie westwarld in my head. I tore out the article
Speaker 1: and shoved it in my duffel bag. What did I care?
Speaker 1: I thought might be fun to step out of my
Speaker 1: boring life for a while to pretend to be someone else.
Speaker 1: After several weeks of phone calls and background checks, I
Speaker 1: was offered to job as a saloon of pharaoh dealer.
Speaker 1: When I arrived, I noted how exact a replica of
Speaker 1: the place was of an old West town. It was
Speaker 1: overrun with tourists, but you could easily tell who the
Speaker 1: workers were by their old fashioned dress. All I was
Speaker 1: dressed for my part, looking like Hugh O'Brien's character in
Speaker 1: the John Wayne movie The Shootest. I tried to copy
Speaker 1: Hugh O'Brien's cocky arrogance, but thankfully I never had to
Speaker 1: defend myself against any soret of losers that lost at
Speaker 1: my pharaoh table. The tourists thought my act was a hoop,
Speaker 1: and it was all in good fun. Once we closed,
Speaker 1: my other duties involved making the rounds and securing the
Speaker 1: place for the night. Late one evening, I decided to
Speaker 1: stay and enjoy the solitude of the mountains in the
Speaker 1: background and the starry skies above. I found myself back
Speaker 1: at the saloon with nothing to do, so I sat
Speaker 1: at my table and began to practice some new card moves.
Speaker 1: There was no smoking loud on the premises, but the
Speaker 1: air began to fill with the smell of burning tobacco.
Speaker 1: Now I thought my coworkers were pulling a joke, or
Speaker 1: that a couple of stray tourists had trespassed onto the
Speaker 1: place after hours. There was a distinct sound of boot shuffling,
Speaker 1: as if a crowd of invisible line dancers had suddenly
Speaker 1: taken the floor. Well. My heart jumped into my mouth
Speaker 1: when a player piano roared into life and began pumping
Speaker 1: out a saloon worthy rendition of Camptown Ladies. I found
Speaker 1: myself face to face with a trio of reenactors, one
Speaker 1: portraying a cowboy and two playing miners. They pulled out
Speaker 1: chairs at my table and they sat down. Why didn't
Speaker 1: recognize them? What did you guys start working here? I asked,
Speaker 1: Are you going to deal the cards? Just sit there?
Speaker 1: One of the miners demanded, someone is having a big
Speaker 1: laugh at my expense, I thought, so I played along
Speaker 1: and off the first hand. The three bellowed for drinks.
Speaker 1: An actress playing a pretty saloon girl who I didn't recognize,
Speaker 1: brought over a tray and set it off to the side.
Speaker 1: The three men down their booze in one gulp and
Speaker 1: turned their attention back to the game. By then the
Speaker 1: bar was filled and every patron was dressed in period clothing,
Speaker 1: as was I all night long. The cowboy had been
Speaker 1: losing badly. He made a derogatory remark about my Faroh
Speaker 1: dealing skills. Thinking this was all play acting, I summoned
Speaker 1: my inner Hugh Bryan, and I told him, you have
Speaker 1: two ways of leaving this establishment, my friend immediately or dead.
Speaker 1: Like Hugh Brian's character. I love watching a beaten man
Speaker 1: leave the room. The cowboy shuffled dejectedly across the bar
Speaker 1: and made his exit through the swinging doors look out.
Speaker 1: Someone yelled A few seconds later as the entire place
Speaker 1: dove for cover. The cowboy reappeared in the doorway brandishing
Speaker 1: a gun. I heard his blank cartridge whizz by me
Speaker 1: as I instinctively raised my own gun and took him
Speaker 1: down with one shot to the heart. The cheer went
Speaker 1: up throughout the bar as a couple of patrons dragged
Speaker 1: the cowboy's body out the exit. I holistered my pistol
Speaker 1: and continued the game, And in that moment I really
Speaker 1: was Hugh Bryan, and all the characters in the saloon
Speaker 1: feared and respected me. I told the two actors playing
Speaker 1: the miners that I was shutting down the Faroh table
Speaker 1: for the night. They chose not to complain and passively
Speaker 1: made their way out the exit. I assumed the other
Speaker 1: staff in the bar, detracted by their partying, would close up,
Speaker 1: so I made my way out, and as my boots
Speaker 1: kicked up the dirt, I thought I saw someone sleeping
Speaker 1: on a bench in front of the General's store. It
Speaker 1: was the cowboy I had pretended to shoot. Wake up,
Speaker 1: I said, as I nudged him, Except he wasn't asleep.
Speaker 1: I noted the dry blood across his chest. I turned
Speaker 1: and ran back to the saloon to summon help. I
Speaker 1: could hear the player piano, but as I entered I
Speaker 1: saw the place was deserted. The gravity of the situation
Speaker 1: was dawning on me that I had just shot and
Speaker 1: killed a man in front of a saloon full of
Speaker 1: eye witnesses who had suddenly vanished. I rushed back to
Speaker 1: the general store, thinking I could still help the cowboy
Speaker 1: if it wasn't too late. But he had gone missing, too,
Speaker 1: had my fellow re enactors removed the body. I checked
Speaker 1: the blanks in my colt and counted five still in
Speaker 1: the cylinder. There were two unaccounted for mine and his.
Speaker 1: I searched every inch of that saloon and couldntfideen neither
Speaker 1: had someone found the spent cartridges and taken those two
Speaker 1: somewhere in panic had occurred to me that I was
Speaker 1: being prank. You can't kill people across the room firing
Speaker 1: only blanks, and dead bodies don't go missing, and large
Speaker 1: groups of rowdy bar patrons don't disappear without a trace.
Speaker 1: The next day, I took my coworkers to task, congratulating
Speaker 1: them on pulling off such an elaborate hoax. No one
Speaker 1: seemed to know what I was talking about. A few
Speaker 1: humored be enough to listen as I recounted the events
Speaker 1: from the night before. You say you heard music coming
Speaker 1: from this piano, asked one of them. He swept his
Speaker 1: hand down the keyboard, but the instrument produced no sound.
Speaker 1: This piano doesn't have hammers, he continued. It's a prop. Well,
Speaker 1: I shook my head. I'm starting to feel somewhere between
Speaker 1: foolish and possibly insane. You know your characters based on
Speaker 1: a real guy, he added, I had assumed there was
Speaker 1: no history behind any of the people that we were
Speaker 1: supposed to be portraying. Some cowboy drifter didn't like his cards,
Speaker 1: so he and the pharaoh dealer got into it. Continued
Speaker 1: the co worker the Pharaoh Dealer shot him dead. The
Speaker 1: next night, a gang of cowboys rode into town and
Speaker 1: took care of the Pharaoh Dealer. You want to hang
Speaker 1: around and see what happens to your character tonight? They
Speaker 1: all started laughing at my so called ghost story, real
Speaker 1: or imagine? I knew I was know Hugh O'Brien. It
Speaker 1: was boring old me that removed my gun belt and
Speaker 1: bid my farewells and got the hell out of dodge.
Speaker 1: I live in a small town in north Mississippi, right
Speaker 1: below the Tennessee state line in Benton County. This person
Speaker 1: is my neighbor, one county over. In two thousand and nine,
Speaker 1: I was going through a nasty divorce and a custody battle.
Speaker 1: My one year old daughter and I had to move
Speaker 1: in with my parents. They own thirty eight and after
Speaker 1: all of us kids moved out, they converted the barn
Speaker 1: into a two bedroom cabin. Growing up, I always had
Speaker 1: a weird feeling that I couldn't explain when I would
Speaker 1: be in the barn alone feeding or messing with the horses,
Speaker 1: even though I never had any paranormal experiences. My daughter
Speaker 1: slept in a pack and play because I was unable
Speaker 1: to bring her crip with us when we had to
Speaker 1: leave our former home. Around three thirty am on this
Speaker 1: particular night, I was in that state where you're asleep
Speaker 1: but still kind of aware of what's going on around you,
Speaker 1: and I heard a voice say, she's waking up. Opened
Speaker 1: my eyes and I saw two little twin girl ghosts
Speaker 1: who looked to be around eight years old. They wore
Speaker 1: antique dresses and their hair was fixed in ringlet curls,
Speaker 1: just like a pair of Victorian porcelain dolls. Both of
Speaker 1: them were sitting in front of the pack and play
Speaker 1: with their legs crossed, looking at my daughter. They must
Speaker 1: have realized they were being watched by me as they
Speaker 1: took flight and exited the room. It felt like all
Speaker 1: the energy left with them. My daughter slept through the
Speaker 1: hole encounter, but I was so scared that I just
Speaker 1: laid there wide away. I never believed in ghosts until
Speaker 1: that night. I don't think they had any ill intent.
Speaker 1: I got the feeling that they were behaving like normal
Speaker 1: girls around that age, fascinated by the baby. My parents
Speaker 1: still continued to experience paranormal activity in the house, though
Speaker 1: none of the spirits appeared to be menacing or threatening.
Speaker 1: My mother witnessed the ghost of a little boy dressed
Speaker 1: in Civil War era clothing and swore as she detected
Speaker 1: the scent of a woman's perfume in the hallway. And
Speaker 1: my sister once saw the figure of a man dressed
Speaker 1: in cowboy clothing. She said he seemed more interested in
Speaker 1: tending to his chores than bothering with her. There's a
Speaker 1: dark history to the place. It was once burnt to
Speaker 1: the ground during the Civil War and rebuilt on the
Speaker 1: same site. There were rumors of a family with three
Speaker 1: small children buried nearby and on mark graves. It was
Speaker 1: assumed that they were bystanders caught in the bloodshed. It's
Speaker 1: all kind of tragic when you think about it. A
Speaker 1: farm family innocently going about their business until the war
Speaker 1: ended up at their front door. And that's the end
Speaker 1: of that story. But you know, during the Civil War
Speaker 1: where I live, when the Union forces came through here,
Speaker 1: they burned in everything, courthouses, churches. You can look at
Speaker 1: the historical markers on almost every courthouse in every county
Speaker 1: in at least north of Mississippi, I'm guessing North Alabama
Speaker 1: and Georgia. It'll say that This courthouse was burned down
Speaker 1: during the Civil War and rebuilt in eighteen eighty nine
Speaker 1: or eighteen seventy six during the Reconstruction period. But none
Speaker 1: of it was pleasant for people in the Southern States.
Speaker 1: And nothing about the war was easy. It wasn't just hard,
Speaker 1: it was. It was much harder on the soldiers, but
Speaker 1: nothing was easy for the whole population down here. And
Speaker 1: some people may say, well, they deserved it, blah blah blah.
Speaker 1: I'm not saying whether they deserved it or not. I'm
Speaker 1: just saying that's a fact. It just wasn't easy living
Speaker 1: for people. And a lot of our customs and a
Speaker 1: lot of our food and a lot of our language
Speaker 1: and the things that the way we live in the
Speaker 1: Southern States are marked by that era. And I don't know,
Speaker 1: it just came to mind with this story. I've read
Speaker 1: a lot about the Reconstruction era, and from customs to
Speaker 1: food to in the post slave culture and everything. It's
Speaker 1: real interesting stuff. And you kind of find out why
Speaker 1: people like I found out why my grandparents ate like
Speaker 1: they did that. I'll just tell you a little story.
Speaker 1: I remember my grandmother and this is probably from the
Speaker 1: reconstruction area posts Civil war and from living through the
Speaker 1: Great Depression. But she would cook a batch of biscuits,
Speaker 1: and those biscuits would sit on her stove out in
Speaker 1: the open for a week until they were all gone.
Speaker 1: Now today, if we cook a dozen biscuits and you
Speaker 1: eat six, you just throw the rest of them away,
Speaker 1: or you give the rest to the dogs, or you
Speaker 1: throw we throw them out to the chickens. But they
Speaker 1: came up in an era where you did not waste
Speaker 1: an ounce of food. You just didn't waste it. You
Speaker 1: kept it and you would eat on it all week.
Speaker 1: And if you threw throwing something out that was edible
Speaker 1: was just absolutely unheard of. And my grandparents wound up
Speaker 1: in real good shape later in their life. But they
Speaker 1: were born and raised and came up through the Great
Speaker 1: Depression by people who were raising families during that time,
Speaker 1: and that's how they came about those customs, and they
Speaker 1: never let go of them. I just think that's so
Speaker 1: fascinating to me. I'm running this story kind of long.
Speaker 1: I'm going off on a tangent like I do sometimes
Speaker 1: when I get talking. But it's interesting stuff, and I
Speaker 1: don't take any particular pride in it. I don't take
Speaker 1: I don't look down on it, even though I'm Southern
Speaker 1: born and I've lived here all my life. These are
Speaker 1: just interesting facts about humanity that really consume me. I
Speaker 1: love reading about why we do what we do. It's
Speaker 1: interesting stuff. Okay, let's go to another story. I moved
Speaker 1: to Parker County, Texas two years ago with my wife
Speaker 1: and our three dogs. The property that we purchased and
Speaker 1: currently live on is five acres and it's located outside
Speaker 1: of Springtown. The property is surrounded by others similar sized properties,
Speaker 1: but there are large wooded sections. The back three acres
Speaker 1: is open to the neighbor that borders me to the west,
Speaker 1: and they have a thick scrub brush on the back
Speaker 1: side of their property. The metal barn that was here
Speaker 1: when we bought the place sits twenty feet from the
Speaker 1: property line and eighty feet from our back door. Now,
Speaker 1: I tell you all of this so that you can
Speaker 1: get a mental image of how everything is positioned on
Speaker 1: the property. When we first moved in during the summer
Speaker 1: of twenty twenty one, we were excited to start some
Speaker 1: projects and make our place our own. After picking up
Speaker 1: one thousand pounds of scrap metal and giving the pasture
Speaker 1: a good bush hogging. The back acreage was looking a
Speaker 1: lot better than it had when we first moved in.
Speaker 1: We made a plan to move my wife's horse from
Speaker 1: her grandmother's property to ours once I fixed the fence
Speaker 1: that ran down the western property line. One June evening,
Speaker 1: after it all cooled down, I started making the necessary
Speaker 1: repair to the fence when I heard something moving around
Speaker 1: in the brush fifteen yards in front of me. Now
Speaker 1: it sounded like a large animal trying to be quiet
Speaker 1: but failing miserably. I wasn't concerned, since this part of
Speaker 1: Texas has deer and hogs and other wild game, and
Speaker 1: that's what could have been making the noises. Thirty minutes
Speaker 1: into this episode, with on and off breaking of sticks
Speaker 1: and crunching leaves, I started to feel uneasy, like something
Speaker 1: was looking right at me or through me. I'm a
Speaker 1: big man six foot four and three hundred and twenty
Speaker 1: five pounds, and having hunted the woods and swamps of
Speaker 1: Mississippi all my life, there's not much that has raised
Speaker 1: the hair on the back of my neck. But even so,
Speaker 1: something had my nerves on edge. So I quickly finished
Speaker 1: the work and walked back to the house. At a
Speaker 1: fast pace. After getting into the house and shaking off
Speaker 1: the feeling of being watched, I turned on the baseball
Speaker 1: game and I was able to rely. Later on, my
Speaker 1: wife reminded me that she had to go out of
Speaker 1: town for the next few days for work, and she
Speaker 1: asked about the fence, and I told her that I
Speaker 1: would have it completed, but I didn't mention the incident
Speaker 1: that made me nervous. She asked me if I could
Speaker 1: clean out the barn while she was gone as well. Well. Naturally,
Speaker 1: I waited until the last day before my wife came
Speaker 1: home to start this work. There was no electricity running
Speaker 1: to the barn, just a floodlight on a pole pointing
Speaker 1: toward the south entrance, so I had to get everything
Speaker 1: cleaned out during the day while filling my truck bed
Speaker 1: up with old water hoses and boxes of bucks and newspapers.
Speaker 1: From no telling how long, I worked my way toward
Speaker 1: the northwest corner of the barn. That's when I started
Speaker 1: to notice a rancid smell. The closer I got to
Speaker 1: that corner. After finally getting the wall of boxes cleared out,
Speaker 1: I found the source of the smell. There were old
Speaker 1: horse blankets covered in gore in what looked to be
Speaker 1: an old deer carcass. Well. I thought it was strange,
Speaker 1: but stray dogs in codies are opportunistic, and if no
Speaker 1: one is bothering them, I guessed that they would take
Speaker 1: up shelter in the barn. Well. I gagged a few
Speaker 1: times at the smell, and I managed to get all
Speaker 1: the terrible smelling horse blankets in the bed of my
Speaker 1: truck and on the way to the county dump. And
Speaker 1: when I got back home that evening, I got cleaned
Speaker 1: up and I let the dogs out to use the
Speaker 1: bathroom and get some exercise. It was about thirty minutes
Speaker 1: before dusk, and that uneasy feeling that I had of
Speaker 1: being watched hit me again. I wasn't the only one
Speaker 1: that had an immediate feeling of eyes peering at me
Speaker 1: from somewhere. All of my dogs were on alert. They
Speaker 1: were looking over toward the barn. The biggest of these
Speaker 1: dogs is one hundred and twenty pound Great Pyrenees Retriever mix.
Speaker 1: He was a real protective dog, but he was frozen
Speaker 1: in that spot, rowling, and his hackles were raised. I
Speaker 1: gathered myself and got the dogs back inside, and I
Speaker 1: still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something glaring
Speaker 1: at me through the windows. The thought crossed my mind
Speaker 1: that there might be a big cat in the area,
Speaker 1: even though the game warns will tell you that there aren't.
Speaker 1: But I hadn't seen any tracks or signs. So after
Speaker 1: closing all the blinds, I felt a little better. But
Speaker 1: that was until about nine thirty when I heard my
Speaker 1: neighbor's dog raising hell. Against my better judgment, I went
Speaker 1: to the gun safe and got out my three hundred
Speaker 1: blackout AR fifteen, and I racked around in the chamber
Speaker 1: and I flipped on the weapon mounted light and I
Speaker 1: stepped out the back door. The instant that I pointed
Speaker 1: the light toward the barn, there was an ear piercing
Speaker 1: howl or growl that vibrated in my chest. Now I'm
Speaker 1: not a believer in encryptids or that UFO stuff, So
Speaker 1: I started walking toward the barn with my muscle trained
Speaker 1: on the entrance. I had only made it ten steps
Speaker 1: before this, well, it was this thing. It jumped into
Speaker 1: the beam of my light just inside the barn doors.
Speaker 1: So I froze in my tracks out of sheer disbelief.
Speaker 1: This beast was standing on its hind legs with its
Speaker 1: front arms hanging down just above its knees, and it
Speaker 1: was black. It's blacker and dark. The next thing I
Speaker 1: noticed was the claws on the end of the raccoon
Speaker 1: like hands that glistened in my light. They looked long
Speaker 1: and dangerous. I slowly raised my rifle, working that light
Speaker 1: up the creature, and I saw the ugliest canine face
Speaker 1: that I've ever seen in my life, thick, vicious drool
Speaker 1: that hung from its yellow, jagged teeth, and suddenly it
Speaker 1: looked like the edges of its mouth had turned up
Speaker 1: in some sort of a twisted grin. Its eyes reflected
Speaker 1: green from the light. I had no idea what I
Speaker 1: was looking at, but I knew that thirty rounds of
Speaker 1: three hundred blackout probably wasn't enough to take it down
Speaker 1: Before it got to me. I got lucky, and it
Speaker 1: turned and with one fluid motion, it jumped over the
Speaker 1: backset of barn doors and started running into the night.
Speaker 1: From the time the creature jumped into the light, from
Speaker 1: the time it suddenly turned away and bounded over the
Speaker 1: back barn doors and ran off, crashing through the brush,
Speaker 1: may have been a total of thirty seconds. I got
Speaker 1: a good enough look at it to know that I
Speaker 1: was keeping my gun loaded, in lights on, and my
Speaker 1: doors locked that night. The next morning, I went out
Speaker 1: and measured where I thought the height of the beast was.
Speaker 1: My best guess was that it was seven foot tall,
Speaker 1: and the barn doors that cleared without effort were even
Speaker 1: with my chin. Now I found large canine style prints
Speaker 1: all over the dirt floor of the barn. My wife
Speaker 1: came home later that day, and I chose not to
Speaker 1: tell her about any of the events that happened the
Speaker 1: night before. It has been almost two years since that night,
Speaker 1: and I haven't seen her or felt the presence of
Speaker 1: anything on or around our property since. My best guess
Speaker 1: is that the thing had been staying in the barn
Speaker 1: while the previous owners had been gone, and I disturbed
Speaker 1: it by cleaning everything up. Hopefully I never have another
Speaker 1: encounter with anything like this again. Oh man, Hopefully you don't.
Speaker 1: And you're going to catch some flight from the audience
Speaker 1: for not telling your wife. And there's a lot of
Speaker 1: stories that guys will say that they'll say, oh, I
Speaker 1: saw this monster, but I never told my wife about it.
Speaker 1: It was on our property it was close to the house,
Speaker 1: but I never told my wife about it. You know, honestly,
Speaker 1: I might not tell my wife because I know that
Speaker 1: it would scare her to death. She probably wouldn't want
Speaker 1: to live here. So I get it, and I almost
Speaker 1: support what you're doing. If you hadn't had any problem,
Speaker 1: that's a good deal. But you're going to catch some flight,
Speaker 1: So don't read the comments. How about that? Don't read
Speaker 1: the comments. To the man who wrote this, I think
Speaker 1: was his name, I appreciate the story, man, this was great.
Speaker 1: You think you saw a dog man or a werewolf?
Speaker 1: What's the difference in a dog man a werewolf? Some
Speaker 1: people say, well, the werewolf's change and the dog man don't.
Speaker 1: But how do you know when you see a dog
Speaker 1: man if it didn't change like an hour before? So
Speaker 1: how do you know? How do we know all these things?
Speaker 1: I don't know? All right, buddy, thanks for the story.