Speaker 1: Hey, good morning everybody. It's early in the morning of
Speaker 1: July the eighth. I don't have a lot of time.
Speaker 1: I've got a busy day, so I may just put
Speaker 1: one story in this podcast and throw an archive behind
Speaker 1: it to give it a little bit of length and
Speaker 1: give you another story that you can enjoy. But let's
Speaker 1: get started with the first one. It's a bigfoot story.
Speaker 1: I have known about Bigfoot since I could remember. It
Speaker 1: was fundamental learning for me, just the same as beware
Speaker 1: of strangers. Native Americans are like that. You once made
Speaker 1: a comment indicating your interest in how interactions with Bigfoot
Speaker 1: have a life changing effect on people, and I would
Speaker 1: like to shed some light on that for you and
Speaker 1: your listeners. When I was a high school senior, I
Speaker 1: had an encounter. I lived in the woods. Everyone in
Speaker 1: this area lives along the stretch of road that runs
Speaker 1: through it for about three miles on either side of
Speaker 1: the road. After that, it has opened wilderness and pine
Speaker 1: tree plantations for miles and miles. The brush is thick
Speaker 1: everywhere and it's not kept down. As late as the
Speaker 1: nineteen eighties, some of the natives still had living habits
Speaker 1: from the past. Grandpa used to burn the brush down
Speaker 1: about half an acre around us home, creating a visual perimeter.
Speaker 1: The old women used to cover their windows at night,
Speaker 1: and there was a leftover saying from earlier times for
Speaker 1: children who would not go to sleep and who were
Speaker 1: loud at night, be quiet, or something is going to
Speaker 1: mock you. Once upon a time, we natives had to
Speaker 1: implement practical strategies for living amongst our hairy neighbors, which
Speaker 1: mainly was not to instigate any reason for any interaction whatsoever.
Speaker 1: Move along, nothing to see here, that sort of thing.
Speaker 1: But even now, well, if a Native sees a bigfoot,
Speaker 1: they will look away and pretend that they didn't see it.
Speaker 1: We know that if we leave them alone, they will
Speaker 1: leave us alone. It is as if sometime in the
Speaker 1: past we achieve some kind of unspoken cohabitation agreement. Natives
Speaker 1: very rarely talk openly about bigfoot amongst other people. Personally,
Speaker 1: I suspect that a little vanity with natives in that
Speaker 1: they are knowing something most other people do not. Back
Speaker 1: in high school, I was comfortable walking home late at
Speaker 1: night in all weather. I knew the sounds that animals
Speaker 1: make at night, and I could tell the difference between
Speaker 1: each and every one of them moving through the brush.
Speaker 1: I knew the difference between a coyote and a cat.
Speaker 1: Cats are hard to hear, more like a breeze when
Speaker 1: there is no wind. Animals will pace you as you
Speaker 1: walk along the road at night, and I know how
Speaker 1: to hear them. One night, I became aware of bipedal
Speaker 1: steps pacing me off to the right about fifty feet.
Speaker 1: It had happened twice before with no consequences, but it
Speaker 1: was unnerving nonetheless, and the sooner it stopped, the better.
Speaker 1: I was walking on a paved road approaching a creek
Speaker 1: with a bridge crossing a quarter a mile away. The
Speaker 1: road was going to turn left and run alongside the creek.
Speaker 1: It sloped down, and it turned back to the right
Speaker 1: for the bridge crossing. On the first curve, there was
Speaker 1: a house that had a dog that always barked at
Speaker 1: me every time I walked by. Now this house area
Speaker 1: had lights, and I was looking forward to walking by,
Speaker 1: as I thought it might shake loose my stalker. As
Speaker 1: I walked by, I approached their garden and the steps
Speaker 1: became more pronounced. It was announcing its presence by walking louder.
Speaker 1: Up until that point, I had not let on that
Speaker 1: I knew it was there. It takes a certain amount
Speaker 1: of disasan to keep your walking pace casual and to
Speaker 1: appear oblivious to your surroundings while at the same time
Speaker 1: all of your senses are perking up and you are
Speaker 1: beginning to get an adrenaline trickle. But this was not
Speaker 1: my first rodeo. I began to scuff my feet a
Speaker 1: little on the loose rocks on the road, just to
Speaker 1: create more noise, a possible reason for me not hearing
Speaker 1: the steps. I heard a vehicle coming from the other
Speaker 1: side of the creek, about a half mile away. Then
Speaker 1: I considered my options. I could just keep walking along
Speaker 1: and hope everything would be okay. I could bolt over
Speaker 1: to the house and hope I didn't get shot or
Speaker 1: torn up by their dog. Or I could try to
Speaker 1: use the vehicle as an opportunity to make a break
Speaker 1: for it. But I had to be at the curve.
Speaker 1: Just as the vehicle came around, I chose to run
Speaker 1: for it. I quickened my walk and heard the car
Speaker 1: cross the bridge and make its left turn toward me.
Speaker 1: I still a quarter mile away. I was walking on
Speaker 1: the left side of the road, and we met right
Speaker 1: at the curve, and as soon as the headlights went past,
Speaker 1: I bolted. I sprinted that quarter of a mile down
Speaker 1: to the next curve and onto the bridge. Halfway across,
Speaker 1: I slowed to a fast walk to catch my breath.
Speaker 1: I wanted my body ready in case I still needed
Speaker 1: to run one hundred feet past the bridge. I thought
Speaker 1: about looking back to check my rear, but I was
Speaker 1: not brave enough to do that. If I saw something
Speaker 1: coming across that bridge after me, I don't think I
Speaker 1: could handle it. I walked a little ways more with
Speaker 1: thick brush on both sides of the road, and I
Speaker 1: didn't hear any crashing or tearing through the brush, so
Speaker 1: I gathered the courage to look behind me. I saw
Speaker 1: nothing but empty road. And then it happened. The moment
Speaker 1: I thought I might be in the clear, I heard
Speaker 1: a tree limb break off to my right. It was
Speaker 1: a loud, sharp crack, bigger than anything I could crack
Speaker 1: with both legs. It had gotten ahead of me and
Speaker 1: waited until I came into its position in the brush
Speaker 1: about fifty feet from me, and then it made its statement.
Speaker 1: We humans are energetic beings. We send out and receive
Speaker 1: energy to and from each other. For example, you could
Speaker 1: be in another room and if your mother or father
Speaker 1: or spouse come home, you could know what kind of
Speaker 1: mood they were in through your sense of perception before
Speaker 1: you ever spoke to them. Now, this is to say
Speaker 1: that you are receiving the energy that they are putting out,
Speaker 1: and you can identify what kind of energy they have. Also,
Speaker 1: you can look at a stranger and that stranger will
Speaker 1: sense that and look right at you, and they will
Speaker 1: know in what manner you were looking at them. Bigfoot
Speaker 1: does the same thing. When Bigfoot is looking at you,
Speaker 1: you can sense it, and you can sense in what
Speaker 1: manner the attention is given to you. Perception is a skill,
Speaker 1: and the more you consciously use it, the better you
Speaker 1: become at it. Now, we humans communicate with each other constantly,
Speaker 1: combining thoughts with actions. We can slam things around, letting
Speaker 1: everyone know to leave us alone right now. Or we
Speaker 1: can smile and radiate friendliness that will cause a stranger
Speaker 1: to nod and smile back. And Bigfoot does this too.
Speaker 1: When the tree limb was broken, it was a statement
Speaker 1: I was being informed that it was only by its
Speaker 1: grace that I was allowed to go freely on their turf.
Speaker 1: I was being told that within their element, they are
Speaker 1: superior to me in every way. I was being told
Speaker 1: that it would be the same as a worm fighting
Speaker 1: an eagle. Whenever I talk about Bigfoot to people, I
Speaker 1: use a gang turf analogy. Imagine that you were in
Speaker 1: the inner city gang zone and you have to walk
Speaker 1: through it. You may walk through just fine with no
Speaker 1: incidents at all, but it was not because they did
Speaker 1: not see you. Well, they saw you. They just decided
Speaker 1: not to mess with you that day. When you go
Speaker 1: into the woods, Bigfoot sees you. When you were on
Speaker 1: their turf. You may not see them, and you may
Speaker 1: not even know that they are there, but understand that
Speaker 1: they are choosing not to mess with you every single
Speaker 1: time you were within their territory. After the tree lamb break,
Speaker 1: I walked home without incident. I had to turn off
Speaker 1: the paved road onto the single lane dirt road which
Speaker 1: ran through the woods to the house with thick brush
Speaker 1: and trees on both sides and a dark canopy overhead.
Speaker 1: Bigfoot just wanted to make a point, that was all,
Speaker 1: and was probably smiling as I walked away. It was
Speaker 1: the most intimidating thing to ever happen to me. I
Speaker 1: remember an older Indian speaking out at a party about
Speaker 1: how in the those moments you would actually prefer to
Speaker 1: have an encounter with a bear or a wolf or
Speaker 1: a cat. That is absolutely the truth. At least that way,
Speaker 1: the odds are considerably better. I want to thank the
Speaker 1: native person who wrote this and sent it. I've had
Speaker 1: it for a long time. I don't shove these to
Speaker 1: the side for a long length of time on purpose.
Speaker 1: I get to them when I come to them. And
Speaker 1: a lot of these stories that I read that are old,
Speaker 1: I wonder if the people are still even listening and
Speaker 1: know that I read their story on the channel. But
Speaker 1: it's just the way things have turned out. I told
Speaker 1: you all the other day. I have over a thousand,
Speaker 1: probably closer to twelve fifteen hundred emails that I haven't
Speaker 1: even looked at yet. I got so many at one time.
Speaker 1: I've got enough material to do this for years, and
Speaker 1: so you don't think about that stuff when you announce, Hey,
Speaker 1: send me your story. I'll read your story on the podcast.
Speaker 1: I'm not really sure what I'm saying, but I think
Speaker 1: people think that I've forgotten them or not done their story.
Speaker 1: But I'm going to get to it. If it's legible
Speaker 1: at all, I'm going to get to your story. It's
Speaker 1: just that there's so many, so many hours in the day,
Speaker 1: so many stories to do, and I can only do
Speaker 1: one at a time, and I put two or three
Speaker 1: or four in a podcast, putting one in this podcast.
Speaker 1: But I just want to let you know that I've
Speaker 1: got them all. They're all in my inbox, they're safe,
Speaker 1: it's on it's a Gmail account, so those accounts just
Speaker 1: stay current. And I'm really lucky to have all this
Speaker 1: material to read to you guys. I'm thanking you, and
Speaker 1: I'm letting you know that I am getting to your
Speaker 1: story if I haven't gotten to it yet. So I
Speaker 1: appreciate you and hope you enjoy. Let's jump over to
Speaker 1: an older story I released probably four years ago. I
Speaker 1: think you guys will enjoy this. Thanks for joining me
Speaker 1: on this podcast. Now for an archive story. It was
Speaker 1: an early spring Saturday morning in Vicksburg, Mississippi, and I
Speaker 1: was living in the Pleasant Valley subdivision east of Highway
Speaker 1: sixty one south, roughly a mile from the Mississippi River.
Speaker 1: They have since built two schools west of the location
Speaker 1: of my first incident. This part of the state is
Speaker 1: mostly rolling hills hollows, and it's covered with many trees
Speaker 1: plus greenery as far as the eye can see. I
Speaker 1: was looking forward to taking each child out for a
Speaker 1: go kart ride that day because it was spring break
Speaker 1: for them. My two sons from my first marriage had
Speaker 1: come to live with us last summer, and I also
Speaker 1: have two step daughters that are also close to them
Speaker 1: in their ages, plus a newborn son. My plan was
Speaker 1: to start out with my oldest son, since he had
Speaker 1: missed out on a few years with me. On this day,
Speaker 1: instead of just going down to the end of the
Speaker 1: cul de sac like I would normally do, with them
Speaker 1: to the edge of the woods, where I would spend
Speaker 1: a few donuts in the dirt, and then let them
Speaker 1: drive back to the yard for the next driver, I
Speaker 1: decided to take my son out of the subdivision a
Speaker 1: few hundred yards back down the main road. I had
Speaker 1: seen a gated path overgrown with weeds and shrubbery leading
Speaker 1: into the thick forest, and I figured this would be
Speaker 1: a nice place to check it out with him, allowing
Speaker 1: us an extended ride together, and from there we could
Speaker 1: drive all the way back. I headed out on to
Speaker 1: Dana Road, driving west along the gravel shoulder to go
Speaker 1: around this locked gate giving us access to this closed road.
Speaker 1: I was swerving back and forth on the narrow path,
Speaker 1: all the while enjoying watching the excitement in my son's
Speaker 1: eyes as he was scanning the surrounding trees. We were
Speaker 1: heading deeper into the dense forest, and after several minutes
Speaker 1: I could see a clearing up ahead which looked like
Speaker 1: wide enough for me to do a doughnut, and this
Speaker 1: was where I could let him drive. As I performed
Speaker 1: a three sixty, the go cart stalled out, as it
Speaker 1: would do sometimes when I would turn too fast, causing
Speaker 1: the motor to flood. Once the sound of the cart
Speaker 1: engine stopped, I noticed in airy quiet stillness as the
Speaker 1: dust was settling in the slight breeze that was blowing
Speaker 1: into our faces. I didn't think much about quietness because
Speaker 1: we're all about a half mile southwest of my subdivision.
Speaker 1: I got off the cart, instructing my son to take
Speaker 1: the driver's seat while I prepared to start the engine
Speaker 1: back up and head home. The wind shifted and coming
Speaker 1: at us from the south. Oh my god, this wind
Speaker 1: is carrying an awful odor, funky wet dog smell that
Speaker 1: is mixed with a hog pen scent. I'm sorry, these smells,
Speaker 1: just the description of these smells just gets me. The
Speaker 1: wind shifted coming at us from the south. Oh my god,
Speaker 1: this wind is carrying an awful sour, funky wet dog
Speaker 1: smell that is mixed with a hog pens scent you
Speaker 1: will get on a human summer day, which will burn
Speaker 1: your nostrils. Do you smell that? I ask? I asked
Speaker 1: my son, while turning to see if he was getting
Speaker 1: into the driver's seat, But he was not moved, and
Speaker 1: his eyes were transfixed on something in the general direction
Speaker 1: of where the smell was coming from. He was looking
Speaker 1: at the thick tree line where it was hard to
Speaker 1: make out anything. Now shouted to him, do you smell that? Mess?
Speaker 1: I glanced in the direction of his gaze, but I
Speaker 1: saw nothing, And he turned to me, and I can
Speaker 1: see his eyes were glossed over and he has a
Speaker 1: look of fear, as if if he has seen a
Speaker 1: ghost or something. Yeah, I smell it, he said. Instantly,
Speaker 1: A chill overtook my body, making every single strand of
Speaker 1: hair stand on in I was feeling a real sense
Speaker 1: of dread. Now I don't know why. My heart started
Speaker 1: pounding uncontrollably fast, as if it was trying to escape
Speaker 1: the cavity walls of my chest. There was immediate fear
Speaker 1: upon us, both, with my concern being my son's safety.
Speaker 1: Yet my mind was racing, with many questions flashing through
Speaker 1: my head. Within a millisecond, it was as if I
Speaker 1: was frozen in a state of temporary shock. Why the
Speaker 1: hell did I bring him all the way back here
Speaker 1: in these damn woods, is what I was asking myself.
Speaker 1: And what in the world is causing this rotten smell?
Speaker 1: Are we in some type of danger? Do we need
Speaker 1: to get out of here now? My next thought was
Speaker 1: the same as my last, and I quickly pulled the
Speaker 1: string on the go cart so hard that I was
Speaker 1: surprised it didn't snap, but the engine luckily fired back
Speaker 1: to life. I jumped in the driver's seat without putting
Speaker 1: on my seat belt, and I jerked the steering wheel
Speaker 1: in the direction from which we had come. Before I
Speaker 1: knew it, I was throwing dirt grass behind the brigs
Speaker 1: and Stratton engine was blowing smoke, straining hard to move
Speaker 1: this cart. I never looked back. I was desperately hoping
Speaker 1: to see that yellow locked gate come back into my
Speaker 1: view so we could go back around it. I turned
Speaker 1: on to Pleasant Valley Drive and I pulled to the shoulder.
Speaker 1: I was still shaking, but my adrenaline was starting to subside,
Speaker 1: allowing me to feel a little safer by being back
Speaker 1: on the street near the houses of my neighborhood. I
Speaker 1: took this time to ask my son if he had
Speaker 1: seen anything, and his reply was, Dad, there were big, dark,
Speaker 1: scary looking eyes staring right at us from in the
Speaker 1: tree branches, but I couldn't see anything else but the eyes.
Speaker 1: I thought something had moved when I first started smelling that,
Speaker 1: so I was trying to see what it was, but
Speaker 1: only saw those eyes, and they just disappeared while I
Speaker 1: was looking at them. That's what scared me. My son
Speaker 1: assured me that the eyes just vanished into the shadows
Speaker 1: of the branches. I made sure he was calm, and
Speaker 1: then had him promised me that he would not tell
Speaker 1: my wife, nor his brother or sisters, because I knew
Speaker 1: I would not hear the end of it. I can't
Speaker 1: honestly say what was in the trees because I didn't
Speaker 1: really see anything. I did get a sense of imminent
Speaker 1: danger though, But my son, on the other hand, saw
Speaker 1: a set of eyes, and I had no reason not
Speaker 1: to believe him. The fear on his face was enough
Speaker 1: for me to know that we needed to get out
Speaker 1: of the woods. My second account was with an uncle,
Speaker 1: and it would happen late in the summer of the
Speaker 1: same year. We had decided to go pick berries. My
Speaker 1: uncle said they probably still grew wild everywhere out there
Speaker 1: near this Soul farm where we lived back in the sixties.
Speaker 1: I was all excited to hear this, knowing that it
Speaker 1: had been years since I set eyes on this place.
Speaker 1: The farm is in Yokina, Mississippi, and it's not far
Speaker 1: from the Big Black River, the exact location where Campbell
Speaker 1: Swamp Road runs into a dead end dirt road named
Speaker 1: Chirrard Drive. We made our way out to the property,
Speaker 1: arriving at nine am. It was deep in the backwoods
Speaker 1: of Warren County where there are neither street lights nor
Speaker 1: electricity lines. We arrived and I had to stop at
Speaker 1: the locked gate to look down on the property from
Speaker 1: the road, which dead ends at the bottom. The house
Speaker 1: was long gone, but I could clearly see the old
Speaker 1: chimney still standing in the middle of what is now
Speaker 1: a small lake formed by years of the Big Black
Speaker 1: River flooding. This road has a drainage ditch, and that
Speaker 1: led to our search in the area for musky dines.
Speaker 1: I could see from the car that this hollow was
Speaker 1: no more than fifty yards away, and I was noticing
Speaker 1: how the foliage was super thick, with these long vine
Speaker 1: straped and tangled over the oaks, dogwoods, and magnolia trees.
Speaker 1: After the nostalgia of admiring the beauty of my childhood's
Speaker 1: stomping grounds, we stepped toward the shallow ditch. I heard
Speaker 1: rustling of leaves in the forest floor, crickets chirping, plus
Speaker 1: this faint sound of a woodpecker knocking off in the distance.
Speaker 1: Once in the ditch, we saw a large cave dug
Speaker 1: deep into the ground of the embankment, and it caused
Speaker 1: me to pause. My uncle was joking with me, telling
Speaker 1: me that it was a big black bear's den, and
Speaker 1: he said, I hope you brought a pistol with you
Speaker 1: just in case we come across one out here, and
Speaker 1: he laughed at me. Of course, I wasn't finding this
Speaker 1: to be funny at all, but I did have a
Speaker 1: twenty five pistol in my pocket. Now I was scanning
Speaker 1: the ground for bear prints more than I was looking
Speaker 1: for musky dyes. My uncle was tickled pink, seeing me
Speaker 1: a little scared. I asked him to quit laughing at me,
Speaker 1: because he was laughing so loud it was getting me
Speaker 1: out of my comfort zone. But it would only be
Speaker 1: a few seconds later when he would become just as
Speaker 1: afraid as I was. I took a few more steps
Speaker 1: than there. It was some kind of huge animal track
Speaker 1: in the semi damp ground. Hey, check this track out.
Speaker 1: Look how big it is? And he stepped over to
Speaker 1: see with his own eyes, because he obviously was thinking
Speaker 1: I was pulling his leg. I put my size twelfth
Speaker 1: shoe next to the track to do a comparison. What
Speaker 1: the hell, he said, This ain't no damn bear boy.
Speaker 1: Look how wide across the toe that is. I don't
Speaker 1: see any claw marks either. Looks more like a barefoot
Speaker 1: man track. But that's impossible for a man's foot to
Speaker 1: be this big. Something ain't right here. This is no
Speaker 1: swamp cat either. This can't be real. Yeah, he was
Speaker 1: scared now. Not ten seconds after his loud reaction to
Speaker 1: seeing this weird track is when we both noticed the silence.
Speaker 1: There were no sounds at all, and then suddenly we
Speaker 1: heard it. I guess the best way to describe it
Speaker 1: was to say, a powerful, long roar. The sound resonated
Speaker 1: through my whole body, echoing twice throughout the valley. The
Speaker 1: feeling I got was similar to standing close to a
Speaker 1: train as a horn blows. Whatever made that noise seem
Speaker 1: to be coming towards us. The vines in the trees
Speaker 1: were now beginning to swing, and we could tell something
Speaker 1: was coming at us walking upright because these sounds of
Speaker 1: heavy footfalls were hitting the ground, one powerful boom after another,
Speaker 1: and it was coming fast. I didn't have time to
Speaker 1: say let's go. My uncle had already took the first
Speaker 1: frantic step back to my car before I could even
Speaker 1: think about it. By the time he reached the car,
Speaker 1: I was there, unlocking the passenger side so he could
Speaker 1: get in. I started the car and put it in
Speaker 1: gear and was trying to peel off, but the dirt
Speaker 1: had my car sliding side to side in slow motion.
Speaker 1: And at the same time I was looking over in
Speaker 1: the direction of a holler and there she was. Yes,
Speaker 1: I could see one of her breasts. The beast was
Speaker 1: partially hidden behind a large tree, just standing there watching us,
Speaker 1: with her top lip rolled back, and she was making
Speaker 1: a terrifyingly menacing frown, showing her large, dirty horse teeth,
Speaker 1: which were flanked by long canines. I noticed her skin
Speaker 1: had a look of smoke gray in color, at least
Speaker 1: the part I could see through the long, black, stringy
Speaker 1: looking hair which was circled around her face. Large fingers
Speaker 1: were visible as she gripped the tree. My head was
Speaker 1: hurting because of seeing this myth, a cool boogeyman that
Speaker 1: they had been telling me about years ago when I
Speaker 1: was a little boy. I had grown to believe that
Speaker 1: it was an old tale just to make the kids
Speaker 1: scared at night. Man, was I ever wrong. My tires
Speaker 1: caught traction, although the car was already fishtailing before I realized.
Speaker 1: My uncle was telling me to slow down. He didn't
Speaker 1: know how I knew it was a female anyway, he said, emphatically,
Speaker 1: how did you know that? He then let me a
Speaker 1: cigarette and told me to relax so I could tell
Speaker 1: him exactly what I saw. I started to settle down
Speaker 1: and was far enough from the area, and we began
Speaker 1: laughing about the experience. We both chained smoked all the
Speaker 1: way back to civilization, vowing to tell everyone what we
Speaker 1: went through. This would be a big mistake and a
Speaker 1: waste of our breaths. Our family members thought we had
Speaker 1: been getting stoned and then made the whole story up.
Speaker 1: They laughed in our faces. It was okay, though, because
Speaker 1: I don't think I would have believed it even if
Speaker 1: I had not seen it for myself. People can think
Speaker 1: these creatures aren't real if they want to, but I
Speaker 1: know what I saw. I will never feel alone in
Speaker 1: the deep woods ever again. Needless to say, our Musky
Speaker 1: dyne hunt lasted no more than five minutes total, and
Speaker 1: I have never been back out that way again. To Yokina, Mississippi.