Speaker 1: My encounter isn't a bigfoot story. It's a dog man's story.
Speaker 1: It happened here in my hometown of San Angelo, Texas.
Speaker 1: It was about twenty four or twenty five years ago,
Speaker 1: and my oldest daughter was about a year old at
Speaker 1: the time. Her dad and I weren't together, and on
Speaker 1: Sunday afternoons he'd come pick her up. A friend of
Speaker 1: mine and I would usually hang out and go to movies, swimming,
Speaker 1: and sometimes we'd go to a nature path outside of town.
Speaker 1: On this Sunday, we decided to go to the nature path.
Speaker 1: It was a really nice day. It was sunny but
Speaker 1: not too hot. The path would go straight through a
Speaker 1: clearing from the parking area towards some big bushes and
Speaker 1: trees on either side. It would go up and incline slightly,
Speaker 1: and then through a clearing again. Then it would head
Speaker 1: into the woods for quite a while. On warm days,
Speaker 1: when the bushes and wildflowers were bloomed out, there would
Speaker 1: be tons of butterflies everywhere. It was a beautiful place
Speaker 1: to relax and enjoy nature. It was all so very
Speaker 1: quiet and peaceful. We rarely saw other people when we
Speaker 1: were there. When you walk down the path, it would
Speaker 1: go for about twenty or so minutes through the trees.
Speaker 1: To the left would be another path that went over
Speaker 1: a small bridge and a dried up river bed. We
Speaker 1: always went over the bridge and would hang out there
Speaker 1: for a while in the shade of the trees. We'd
Speaker 1: usually see some animals, rabbits, maybe a skunk, a deer,
Speaker 1: and I think one time we even saw a mountain
Speaker 1: lion in the distance. This particular day, we were standing
Speaker 1: on the bridge, my friend towards the middle and me
Speaker 1: by the opposite side from the path. The bridge wasn't big,
Speaker 1: about twenty or so feet. We were standing there, talking
Speaker 1: and enjoying the day, and I started to hear what
Speaker 1: sounded like someone walking through the trees. I could hear
Speaker 1: the leaves and twigs on the ground crunching under something's
Speaker 1: feet as they walked towards where we were. I looked
Speaker 1: over and saw what looked like a very large person
Speaker 1: wearing all black, just a short distance from us. I
Speaker 1: said to my friend, do you see that. She glanced
Speaker 1: over and said, yeah, I see them. They just stood
Speaker 1: there for a while, and I started to think maybe
Speaker 1: it was a crazy person or a murderer coming for us.
Speaker 1: Then suddenly the head turned towards us, and I saw
Speaker 1: what looked like long hair on the head and body
Speaker 1: blowing in the wind, and a long dog looking snout
Speaker 1: turn our way with pointed ears, similar to a German shepherd.
Speaker 1: I saw what looked like bright yellow eyes staring towards us.
Speaker 1: I honestly thought I was losing my marbles. I'd never
Speaker 1: heard of a dog man at the time. My first
Speaker 1: thought was a werewolf, and I thought that didn't exist
Speaker 1: except in movies. Suddenly it turned its head the opposite
Speaker 1: direction again to look the other way. I grabbed the
Speaker 1: back of my friend's shirt and duck down behind her.
Speaker 1: My friend is over six feet tall and around three
Speaker 1: hundred pounds at the time. I then saw its head
Speaker 1: swing towards us again as it looked at us another time.
Speaker 1: I just kept thinking that this cannot be real. Those
Speaker 1: things don't exist. I started to cry, and I thought
Speaker 1: I'm going to die right here and never see my
Speaker 1: daughter again. Will anyone even find our bodies? It then
Speaker 1: swung its head the other way to look over its
Speaker 1: other shoulder. It was standing kind of sundays towards us,
Speaker 1: and it looked from side to side over and over.
Speaker 1: It kept doing that for what seemed like an eternity.
Speaker 1: After looking the opposite way again and then back at us,
Speaker 1: it walked back the way it came. We could hear
Speaker 1: the same crunching sound again, and it slowly faded, and
Speaker 1: then we didn't hear it. I really didn't know what
Speaker 1: to do. My friend suggested we go, but I was
Speaker 1: afraid to move, like it might be waiting for us
Speaker 1: to do some We stood there for a little while
Speaker 1: longer and slowly made our way off the bridge down
Speaker 1: the path towards the car. As we got to the
Speaker 1: part of the path with the big bushes on either side,
Speaker 1: I was afraid to go by them because you can't
Speaker 1: see the other side of the bushes. We slowly went
Speaker 1: to them and then quickly around, and we're relieved that
Speaker 1: there was nothing there. After that, we hurried to my car.
Speaker 1: Somewhere along the way, I picked up a really long
Speaker 1: tree branch. She made me drop it. I got the
Speaker 1: car keys out of my pocket, unlocked the doors, and
Speaker 1: we jumped in and tore off out of there. I
Speaker 1: don't think I ever drove so fast in my life,
Speaker 1: and we never went back to that place again. I
Speaker 1: considered us lucky to get away because something else must
Speaker 1: have been on the other side that was more interesting
Speaker 1: that led it away from us. I never told anyone
Speaker 1: until just a few years ago when I heard of
Speaker 1: the dog Man, and I thought that that must be
Speaker 1: what I saw that day. Thank you for letting me
Speaker 1: share my story. It actually feels good to get it
Speaker 1: out there and not have it on my mind so much.
Speaker 1: My story is from nineteen fifty eight, when I was
Speaker 1: a farm kid in central Illinois. My grandfather was a
Speaker 1: large acreage farmer. He and his brother farmed over three
Speaker 1: thousand acres around Warrensburg, ill which had been in the
Speaker 1: family from the seventeen hundreds. My grandfather was a larger
Speaker 1: than life man, president of the Farm Bureau and Lions Club.
Speaker 1: He was Illinois skeet shooting champion, a pilot, with his
Speaker 1: own plane, boats, and all the newest farm equipment. He
Speaker 1: bought a new pink Cadillac every two years. I think
Speaker 1: he liked being larger than life. I was his oldest
Speaker 1: grandson and he took me everywhere with him. When we
Speaker 1: crash landed his Cessna in a field rolling into a creek,
Speaker 1: he made me swear I would never tell my grandmother,
Speaker 1: and I never did. To say he was a serious,
Speaker 1: no nonsense man would be understating his nature. Warrensburg, Illinois,
Speaker 1: in nineteen fifty eight was a small farm town, the
Speaker 1: center of a farming area, Like so many Midwest farm towns,
Speaker 1: tractor suppliers, farm supply lies, a general store, and school
Speaker 1: or two. With a population of fifty nine, it lays
Speaker 1: twenty nine miles northeast of Blue Mound, Illinois, with its
Speaker 1: history of curses and mysterious doom that permeated the area
Speaker 1: for hundreds of miles around over hundreds of years. Today,
Speaker 1: I looked it up on the Internet to find not
Speaker 1: a mention of that past other than the storied up
Speaker 1: crop failures that ruined farmers for over one hundred years
Speaker 1: in Blue Mound. Blue Mound is an ancient American Indian
Speaker 1: burial ground. My maternal grandmother was a full blood Cherokee Indian.
Speaker 1: She wouldn't go near Blue Mound. We were told the
Speaker 1: Indians buried not their dead, but the bodies of their
Speaker 1: wicked enemies, the giants they warred with for many years.
Speaker 1: There's an oddly high ground in the middle of the
Speaker 1: flat plains where no one was allowed to form or
Speaker 1: excavate by law for nearly one hundred years. The ill
Speaker 1: fated stories of those who dared to dig in Blue
Speaker 1: Mound are many. Legend has it due to a curse
Speaker 1: by the Indian medicine man placed on the dead buried there.
Speaker 1: I can tell you my one trip through there as
Speaker 1: a child, even before I knew the legends, was unsettling,
Speaker 1: to say the least. One sunny fall day, my grandfather,
Speaker 1: my uncle, and I were out in a field by
Speaker 1: our creek bird hunting. I was a kid with my
Speaker 1: eye in the sky most of the time. I loved birds, planes,
Speaker 1: and all things that flew. I still do. It's no
Speaker 1: wonder I ended up a private pilot. As I was
Speaker 1: watching the crows fight and fly in and out of
Speaker 1: the large elm tree by the creek, I noticed a
Speaker 1: plane in the distance. I began watching it as it
Speaker 1: approached on a path that would take it directly overhead.
Speaker 1: It would be a video image burned in my brain
Speaker 1: for all my life. When it was about a mile away,
Speaker 1: judging by its proximity to the north hundred acres fence line,
Speaker 1: I thought I was seeing things. This plane flapped its
Speaker 1: wings like a bird. I yelled at my grandad, look
Speaker 1: at the plane. It's flapping its wings. As he turned
Speaker 1: and said, planes don't flap their wings, son, you know
Speaker 1: that with you know that fading in volume as he
Speaker 1: saw the plane flap its wings. Suddenly it dawned on
Speaker 1: me that this was a bird. It was a huge bird.
Speaker 1: It was probably at around five hundred feet altitude, I
Speaker 1: realized today, Having been a pilot. My grandfather had a
Speaker 1: Cessna and flew over the farm regularly at about the
Speaker 1: same altitude. The wingspan of this bird was at least
Speaker 1: double that of his cesna. The body was twice as
Speaker 1: long and three times as wide as the cessna's fuselage.
Speaker 1: The sun was at the perfect angle to see it
Speaker 1: was feathered with a huge beak, almost appearing as a
Speaker 1: huge eagle. We stood in awe as it approached, rapidly,
Speaker 1: flapping its huge wings every now and then. Suddenly, my
Speaker 1: dim wet uncle, known for his poor Honting etiquette, aims
Speaker 1: his shotgun at this huge bird. My grandfather grabs his barrel,
Speaker 1: shoving it into the dirt as it fires. My grandfather
Speaker 1: was in a rage, I think partially because of uncle
Speaker 1: dim went and partly from fear, because he was a
Speaker 1: man that didn't scare. I had never seen a look
Speaker 1: of fear on his face until that moment. I knew
Speaker 1: well his look of anger, as he had a short
Speaker 1: temper and little tolerance for stupidity. He yanked me under
Speaker 1: his arm and fell to the ground, telling my uncle
Speaker 1: to get down. The bird gave a head turn, noticed
Speaker 1: to the gun fire, and then continued on. When the
Speaker 1: bird had gone about a mile past, my grandfather let
Speaker 1: me up and lit into my uncle's Are you out
Speaker 1: of your effing mind? Do you know what that is?
Speaker 1: I still have one hundred head of cattle and pigs
Speaker 1: and sheep and your wife's horses. My uncle was wisely silent,
Speaker 1: as he well knew setting off my granddad and earned
Speaker 1: him more than one punch in the face. Grandpa's rage
Speaker 1: was different than this. He was really upset over my
Speaker 1: uncle's attempt to shoot this bird. Upset and scared. To
Speaker 1: this day, I think he knew far more about the
Speaker 1: giant bird and its actions than he ever told me.
Speaker 1: He was truly worried about his livestock. We never discussed
Speaker 1: it after that day. Sadly, my hero died of cancer.
Speaker 1: Four years after this incident, just before my twelfth birthday.
Speaker 1: But on this day, as he cooled, I waited for
Speaker 1: a minute, and then I asked, what was that, Grandpa.
Speaker 1: He turned and helped me my shoulders, looking me in
Speaker 1: the eye. You can't ever tell anyone what I'm about
Speaker 1: to tell you because they will think you're crazy. Promise
Speaker 1: me that you want and I agreed. He began, You
Speaker 1: know that bird was flying toward Blue Mound, right, Yes,
Speaker 1: I replied. We have forever heard the tales of the
Speaker 1: giant bird the Indians called the thunderbird. I thought it
Speaker 1: was just a story about the eagle the Indians worship.
Speaker 1: He said, today, I know the thunderbird is real. I
Speaker 1: didn't tell him, but my maternal Jerokee grandmother had told
Speaker 1: me about the thunderbird. According to legend, thunderbird would fly
Speaker 1: over Blue Mound to see if someone had disturbed it.
Speaker 1: True or not, I don't know. What I do know
Speaker 1: is at the time Blue Mound and its lore were
Speaker 1: much respected. I spent years looking into the sky to
Speaker 1: hopefully see the thunderbird again, but I never did. Later,
Speaker 1: I would read about the thunderbird and have no doubt
Speaker 1: I have been very fortunate in life to see it.
Speaker 1: I love the encounters about dog man and bigfoot that
Speaker 1: you share, which I firmly believe in, as my father, uncle,
Speaker 1: and grandfather who hunted the southern State suddenly and mysteriously
Speaker 1: stopped going to those places after their last trip. My
Speaker 1: dad told me stories of the big cats that would
Speaker 1: scream and sound just like a woman, and he warned
Speaker 1: me to never go to help out if I was
Speaker 1: in the woods and heard those sounds, because the people
Speaker 1: that went in to help seldom returned. He, like my grandfather,
Speaker 1: wasn't afraid of anything, but he warned me to stay
Speaker 1: out of the forest and run if I was ever
Speaker 1: in them and heard the big cat screaming like a woman.
Speaker 1: I decided long ago that he knew it wasn't big cats,
Speaker 1: but didn't want to freak out his six year old son.
Speaker 1: As a footnote, the only person besides my wife I
Speaker 1: ever told his story to was my friend Watuka rock Igola,
Speaker 1: a full blooded Navajo Indian. He mentioned Thunderbird one day
Speaker 1: and I was just floored. He not only believed me,
Speaker 1: he said my grandfather was a wise man to heed
Speaker 1: the warnings that he had heard. Thank you so much
Speaker 1: for your show, and I'd rather not be identified if
Speaker 1: you don't mind.
Speaker 2: This bigfoot story comes from a gentleman refers to remain anonymous,
Speaker 2: and who says it's true. I would like to share
Speaker 2: with you and your audience a citing I had on
Speaker 2: the Appalachian Trail a few years back. I'm fifty years
Speaker 2: old now, but I was thirty nine when this event unfolded.
Speaker 2: My friend and I had made plans to walk the
Speaker 2: Appalachian Trail during summer vacation. We planned to do a
Speaker 2: different section each vacation until we completed it. We decided
Speaker 2: to start at Springer Mountain in Georgia. We were outfitted
Speaker 2: with all new packs, sleeping bags, and all the things
Speaker 2: we needed to complete our hike. We both loved the outdoors,
Speaker 2: so we were excited about the upcoming two weeks. The
Speaker 2: first day, we hiked five hours and not knowing if
Speaker 2: we would have time to make it to the next one,
Speaker 2: decided to stop at the sleeping shelter we came to
Speaker 2: at around three that afternoon. We hung around and took
Speaker 2: in the beauty of the place. Being outdoors in the
Speaker 2: smoky mountains with my friend was wonderful. We talked with
Speaker 2: other hikers and sat around and prepared our evening meal.
Speaker 2: Everyone there was exhausted, so we all turned in for
Speaker 2: the night. My friend and I slept like rocks that night.
Speaker 2: The next morning, we were sore from the first day,
Speaker 2: so we took our time packing up and getting started.
Speaker 2: As we were going along and enjoying the sights, we
Speaker 2: passed a couple of ladies who seemed like they were
Speaker 2: in a hurry. It was if they were speed walking
Speaker 2: and not interested in conversation. Later, we stopped so my
Speaker 2: friend could use the restroom. There was a game trail
Speaker 2: about five yards downhill from us, so we stepped down
Speaker 2: to it so she could do her business. It was
Speaker 2: quite a steep incline to come back up, and I
Speaker 2: noticed the game trail ran parallel to the main trail,
Speaker 2: so I suggested we follow it for a while and
Speaker 2: maybe we'd find an easier place to get back up
Speaker 2: to the main trail further down. As we walked down
Speaker 2: the game trail, I kept hearing voices and laughing. I
Speaker 2: thought a big group must be coming down the trail.
Speaker 2: My friend, who was leaning abruptly stopped and I knew
Speaker 2: she'd seen something. I asked what it was, but she
Speaker 2: didn't say a word. She only pointed. I followed her
Speaker 2: finger to the source and was shaken by what I saw.
Speaker 2: I pulled her back and we both squatted down as
Speaker 2: I whispered, is that real? Did we just see that?
Speaker 2: She nodded her eyes wide with shock. I pulled my
Speaker 2: binoculars from my pack and eased forward, looking around the
Speaker 2: bush we'd duck behind. Sitting thirty yards from us and
Speaker 2: maybe fifteen or so yards downhill was a juvenile booger, skunkate, bigfoot,
Speaker 2: whatever you want to call it. It was intent on
Speaker 2: watching something, so I followed its gaze and found the
Speaker 2: source of the laughter. A group of about six young people,
Speaker 2: two young men and four young ladies had found a
Speaker 2: waterfall and were having fun cooling themselves off. I leaned
Speaker 2: back and handed the binoculars off to my friend, who
Speaker 2: then took her turn. After a minute, she leaned back
Speaker 2: quickly and flashed a puzzled half grin. I mouthed the
Speaker 2: words what is it? But she just shook her head
Speaker 2: and handed me the binoculars. I looked down the hill
Speaker 2: at the swimmers first, then back to where the creature
Speaker 2: was sitting. I thought it was just sitting there. Then
Speaker 2: I realized what she'd seen. It looked like it was massing.
Speaker 2: I lean back and tried not to laugh. We sat
Speaker 2: there for a minute more before I suggested we backtrack,
Speaker 2: but my friend thought we should let the young people
Speaker 2: know they were being watched, So we went to a
Speaker 2: spot about forty yards back down the trail where we
Speaker 2: could easily climb down to where they were. The place
Speaker 2: was a sort of a wash out that afforded us
Speaker 2: some cover for quite a way before we risked being
Speaker 2: exposed to the creature. As we were climbing down, we
Speaker 2: heard a high pitched whistle from somewhere above us. The
Speaker 2: juvenile jumped up and looked around, just as my friend's
Speaker 2: foot dislodged a rock, sending it tumbling down the hill. Run,
Speaker 2: I said, and she did. I looked over and realized
Speaker 2: the juvenile was also running. He was heading at an
Speaker 2: angle that was going to intersect my friend's path. Without
Speaker 2: a second thought, I took two steps up onto a
Speaker 2: rock and catapulted myself across the wash, which put me
Speaker 2: on a trajectory straight for the juvenile. I thought at
Speaker 2: that moment, I was probably a dead man, but I
Speaker 2: was trying to give my friend a chance. This thing
Speaker 2: stopped in midstride and stared with a mix of disbelief
Speaker 2: and hatred at the crazy flying human. It was about
Speaker 2: six feet tall, and from the look on its face,
Speaker 2: there was no doubt it was going to kill me.
Speaker 2: I'm six foot four and I weigh two hundred and
Speaker 2: twenty five pounds, but this thing was easily three hundred
Speaker 2: and fifty pounds of pure muscle and anger. I never stopped.
Speaker 2: I doubt I could have, and his expression changed from
Speaker 2: one of surprise to one of fear. At least that's
Speaker 2: what I was telling myself. As I was barreling at
Speaker 2: him from out of nowhere. I felt a sudden, sharp
Speaker 2: blow to my back, and now I was tumbling down
Speaker 2: the hill, trying to get my breath and stop my fall.
Speaker 2: When I finally came to rest, I saw the creature
Speaker 2: jump up and down, whooping and pounding the ground. Then
Speaker 2: I heard a scream and chattering that sounded almost like
Speaker 2: some kind of language. The juvenile creature looked down defeated.
Speaker 2: It dropped all fours and bolted up the mountain at
Speaker 2: an unbelievable speed. I watched as it disappeared up the
Speaker 2: mountain before my eye was drawn to another sight. Not
Speaker 2: thirty feet behind me was a massive eight foot taller
Speaker 2: better seven to eight hundred pound female. She looked right
Speaker 2: at me, and I swear I saw empathy in her eyes.
Speaker 2: She seemed to communicate with me. In my head. It
Speaker 2: was so strange, but I clearly heard her say she
Speaker 2: was sorry that she hit me with the rock, and
Speaker 2: that her child was chasing after us. She said that
Speaker 2: he was getting too unruly and would be dealt with.
Speaker 2: Then she turned and dashed up the hill with more
Speaker 2: grace and speed than the juvenile. I knew then what
Speaker 2: had made him afraid. It wasn't me, it was mama.
Speaker 2: A minute later, the two young men from the waterfall
Speaker 2: were asking me if I was okay. I said I was,
Speaker 2: and they helped me down to the pool of water,
Speaker 2: where I sat for what seemed like hours in total disbelief.
Speaker 2: My friends sat with me, answering their questions. The rocks
Speaker 2: she dislodged had alerted them, and they'd all looked up
Speaker 2: the hill in time to see the entire event. Apparently,
Speaker 2: my friend had screamed when I said run, but I
Speaker 2: hadn't heard anything but silence. It felt like I was
Speaker 2: in a time warp, with everything slowed down and out
Speaker 2: of proportion. What seemed like hours had taken place in
Speaker 2: a matter of seconds. The young people were students at
Speaker 2: a nearby college who often came to this spot to
Speaker 2: swim and hang out. They were nice and couldn't believe
Speaker 2: what they'd seen. They kept talking about how brave I was.
Speaker 2: The truth is I was stupid to them and my
Speaker 2: friend though I was a hero. Now we left with
Speaker 2: them and they gave us a ride to where our
Speaker 2: car was parked. That ended our hiking for good. Now,
Speaker 2: if I'm hiking, it's with a large group armed with
Speaker 2: automatic weapons. Well that's our story, and we don't care
Speaker 2: if anyone believes it or not. We know the truth.
Speaker 2: Thanks very much for allowing us to share and keep
Speaker 2: the stories coming