Speaker 1: This encounter happened just a short time ago. I was
out in the National Forest. I was searching for a
good hunting spot for the upcoming deer season, and I
parked my truck in a small stone lot and proceeded
into the woods. I'm kind of a knucklehead because when
I'm hunting, I don't follow man made trails. By the way,
let me tell you this takes place in Alaska. I'll
cut through the bush until I find a game trail,
and then I'll try to follow it further away from civilization. Anyway,
this day was no different. I walked through the woods
and hit a promising looking trail, and I took off.
After two hours, I stopped for a break. My back
was starting to hurt because I spent most of that
time been overlooking for tracks. I picked a small boulder
to sit against. It was warm, and I was tired,
and I naturally fell asleep. I have no idea how
long I was out, but a loud thrashing in the
woods behind the boulder startled me awake. I've been in combat,
I've learned to wake up instantly and quietly. Whatever was
thrashing around behind me had to be big, and I
slowly started to peep over the rock, hoping to see
a huge buck tearing the crap out of a tree.
But just before my head cleared the boulder, everything stopped.
I froze, and everything got quiet, the kind of quiet
just before the chainsaw starts in a horror movie. Two
things happened. I heard a sneeze and instinctively said God,
bless you. As soon as the words left my mouth,
I regretted it, but there was an instantaneous rushing of
something large through the woods. I stood up quickly and
looked for the deer, and I'm sure I had spooked it.
I was surprised not to see one, but two hairy
creatures running away from me at a rapid clip. They
weren't at all muscular, but they were both six or
seven feet tall. They have the same hair color as
the male my daughter had seen earlier. They didn't stop,
and I soon lost sight of them. Going around the boulder,
I saw the ground torn up in an area twelve
feet across, and there were footprints that measured fifteen inches.
My guess is that after I fell asleep, two juveniles
had wandered into the area had decided to have themselves
a wrestling match. I regret that I did not take
my phone into the woods that day because pictures of
the prints in the area they tore up would at
least somewhat corroborate my story. I have contemplated writing you
for quite a while, but the more of your videos
I've listened to, the more I know. I didn't imagine
or dream the events that have happened to me over
the past fifty seven years, so I decided to go
and send them. It is difficult to understand why why me.
Northeastern Oklahoma is what the locals call green Country. It's
a rural and woodsy place that rolls into the Ozarks
of northwest Arkansas. It was here, when I was seven
that it all began. I was a bed wetter. Fear
of punishment for this made me somewhat restless at night.
On this particular night, I was dreaming that I was
on the toilet. Quickly and unconsciously, I told myself to
wake up. The thought of a fresh green sapling switch
on my rear end and legs jolted me into an
upright position. As soon as I sat up, I had
an odd feeling like I was being watched. The bed
that I shared with my little sister Nita sat against
the wall perpendicular to a large double window that looked
out onto a long cement porch that ran the entire
length of the front of our house. The moonlight coming
through the window lit up the room well enough that
I could see that Nita had rolled off the bed
and was pressed up against it in a deep sleep
on the floor. I looked down and slowly placed my
foot over her to get out of bed, and that's
when I heard a tapping sound at the window, which
was now behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder,
and I got the shock of my life. He was
looking right at me. The moon was shining behind him,
and it gave an almost halo effect to the head
and shoulders of this man. His dark eyes seemed to
sparkle as he smiled at me. It was more like
a grimace. He had a wide mouth with not much limp,
but it was enough to show his teeth. They were
like mine, but they were only larger. His hair was
long and silvery, mixed with some black and brown. Except
for the roots, they were almost white. His beard and
the hair on his shoulders shone silvery in the dim light.
I was confused. I had never seen such a hairy
man before. As far as I could tell, he wasn't
wearing a shirt. His nose was flat, and his head
was a little pointy. I thought that was weird, and
I rubbed my eyes, thinking I was still sleeping and
this was a dream. And then I felt Nita move
at my feet, and I looked down and I realized
this was no dream. I heard it grunt then, and
it sounded like the hogs my uncle kept down by
the barn. I looked back at the hairy man in
the window, and I thought how short he was. Until
he stood up, all I could see were legs. I
never moved so fast in my life. I left over
Nita and I hit the floor, crawling as fast as
I could to reach the doorway to the hall. We
didn't have an actual door yet, the house was still
on under construction, but I knew once I reached the
hallway the hairyman couldn't see me anymore. My heart was
beating in my ears, and I asked myself, was this
really happening. I sat there with my back pressed against
the wall and gathering my courage to peep back around
into the bedroom. The window was empty. He was gone.
I was on the fence about whether or not to
tell my aunt and uncle who I lived with, about
what I had seen. Having been somewhat of a victim
of child abuse, I decided not to wake them for
fear that I would receive a beating of my life. Unfortunately,
I had that kind of childhood. The next morning, I
went out to the porch to see where the hairy
man had first kneeled and then stood on the brick
ledge of the window sill. There were three rocks. I
thought nothing of it at the time, but now I
wonder if there were some kind of gift. I think
of this series of events in my life as the following,
so that's what I call it. It seems like that's
what happened. Whatever it is, it seems to have followed
me throughout my life. The encounter that was shared with
me is one that sticks with me, not only because
of the experience, but because of who told it to me.
I've not told this story very many times, but after
listening to several of your videos, I decided to try
and share it as best that I can remember it.
Back in the late eighties and early nineties, I became
very good friends with a Southern Baptist preacher. He led
me to the Lord during this time and we became
great friends. We're the same age, and we both shared
a love of outdoors. We cone hunted and we trapped,
and we fished together, as well as doing outreach for
the church where he was a pastor that I attended.
October evening, he called me after I got home from
work and asked me if I would drive him so
that he could finish preaching the last night of a
revival at a church about an hour and a half
to the west of the community where we lived. He'd
been fighting a fierce cold all week and had taken
some pretty strong medication. He didn't want to be a
hazard to himself or anyone else by trying to drive.
Of course I agreed to take him. We only lived
a few miles apart on some back roads, and he
felt he'd be okay to travel the short distance to
my house and we would leave from there. We traveled
to the church where he was preaching that night. I
think between getting a little something to eat on the
way over, the medicine he took and God giving him
the strength. He went on to preach one of the
best messages I'd ever heard him preach. After the service
had ended and we set our goodbyes, we proceeded to
travel back home. While traveling back home in my truck,
we talked about a little of everything, starting out, especially
about our excitement for the upcoming hunting and trapping season.
I've always had an interest in Bigfoot encryptid type story
since I was a kid, and to this day, I
love to hear accounts of local legends and happenings that
most every small community seemed to have. After a pause
in our conversation, I had a random thought about a
story that I heard as a kid. It's a well
known and documented story about the Infield horror. The story
made local and national news at the time it was
happening in the early seventies. I won't go into detail
about it here. There are plenty of stories online about this.
I wanted to ask my pastor friend about it because
he grew up not far from where all this occurred.
I brought it up in a half joking manner. He
laughed and said that it was a crazy time with
the stories of sightings of the monster. He also commented
that it was a dangerous time as well because of
the truckloads of monster hunters riding around with firearms. Still
half joking, I asked him if he believed that there
was anything to it, or was it on the overdone side.
My friend got real quiet and reflective for a moment.
He said, I don't know about all the sightings that
were going on in the early seventies, but I had
something happen to me one night while I was coon
hunting that still gives me the chills when I think
about it. I could tell by the look on his
face and the tone of his voice that he was
being dead serious. I knew this was coming from a
good man of God who'd always been leveled straight and
never lied to me. So this is the story that
he told me one night when he was a senior
in high school. He got home from a date about
eleven pm or so on a Friday night in mid November.
He said it was coon season, so he thought they
changed clothes and load the dogs up and go see
if he could tree a coon. Yet, that night, the
area that he was gonna hunt was on the backside
of a state park. Where his family had ground that
they farmed. Most parks and recreation areas have fire roads
through them. These roads allow access for emergency vehicles in
case of fires, and they are also used by farmers
for access to their fields for spring planting and fall harvesting.
It was here on this fire road my friend and
his two eager hounds began their late night coon hunt.
After parking the truck and turning the dogs loose, my
friend said that he walked about one hundred to one
hundred and twenty five yards down the fire road with
the dogs out in front of him. Aways with the
woods of the state park on his left and a
broken wide fence road that bordered the agricultural fields on
his right, he decided to stop and wait to listen
for his dogs, so he turned off his night light
and stood in the quiet, waiting for his hounds to
strike a trail. He had been waiting for about ten
minutes when he heard something running in the woods on
his left. He turned his headlamp on to see the
eyes of his dogs reflecting back at him as they
came running out of the woods and back on to
the fire road. They were running like their tails had
caught fire, and they skidded to a halt, almost tripping
him up in the process. He was annoyed at both
of them, but realized that they were both trembling with fear,
and they kept looking back where they'd run from while
seeking reassurance from him. After about fifteen seconds or so
after his dog's returned, he smelled the most putrid smell
he thought he'd ever smelled in his life. He described
it as rotting eggs with a stagnant, strong, musty, damp odor.
It made his gut wrench, he said. While trying to
calm his dogs down, he heard heavy footfall coming from
the broken fence row side of the fire road. Now
I'm an outdoorsman too, and I can relate to what
he said. Next, he said, those footsteps I heard were
not a deer or somebody's cow that was loose. They
were too loud to belong to a smaller, four legged animal.
Whatever was making that noise was big, and it was
on two legs of that, I have no doubt. He
was scared and yet a little angry because he thought
maybe somebody was sneaking up on him at night to
scare him as a joke. While he was hunting by himself.
He called out a couple of times for whoever this was,
to knock it off, and to remember that he was
carrying a firearm. He then said the firearm comment didn't
give him much confidence because he was only carrying a
twenty two rifle. There was no response, just to continued
heavy footfalls, which had closed to within about thirty yards
of his position, he said. He turned his headlamp onto
full bam and shine the fence row side of the road,
looking for whatever was making the sounds that he was hearing.
He said he saw nothing, but he noticed the footsteps
stopped after he started scanning his light. After not seeing anything,
the flight response took over and he just wanted to
get back to his truck and be away from whatever
was happening as fast as he could. By now he
was shaking with as much fear as the dogs were,
and from the looks they gave him as he was
snapping the leashes on their collars, it was like we're
ready to ski daddle too. He retreated towards the direction
of his truck at a fast walk, knowing they had
some one hundred and twenty five yards or so to cover.
He stopped dead still, and he listened to hear those
same heavy footsteps stop a couple of seconds after his
dead so he knew he was being sh from the
fence row side. On his trip back to the truck,
the futured smell increased and decreased, but was always present
on his retreat. Finally, when he and the dogs were
within about thirty yards of his truck, they broke into
a full run to cover the last distance. The dogs
were still trembling so bad he had to lift each
one of them to the tailgate so they could get
back in the dog box for the ride home. After
loading the dogs, he was still trembling so bad that
he dropped his keys once while trying to unlock the
truck door, but once he did, everything went flying to
the far side of the truck cab. In a rush
to go, he slung grass and dirt with the tires
until he hit the gravel road to head home. Pausing
for a minute after he finished his story, he said,
now take your fingers and touch my forearm. I gave
him a strange look. I didn't know what he was
talking about. Just do it, he said, I ran my
hand across his forearm, and I realized then why he
wanted me to do that. Goosebumps covered him from shoulder
to fingertip. That happens to me every time I tell
that story with this much detail. He said, my friend
did not actually see anything. He only heard and smelled it.
He doesn't know for sure what it was, but something
that was very scary happened to him on that coonut