Speaker 1: Here's a Bigfoot story. I went to visit my friend
Travis in the little town of Rosefield in Catahula Parish, Louisiana.
It was nineteen seventy, the summer before our senior year
in high school. Travis's family used wood burning stoves and
had an outdoor pit toilet, and there were no other
houses anywhere near their property. There wasn't much to this
little town. You can find it on Google Maps, and
it seems to me much like it was back fifty
years ago, mostly pine forests, and it will probably look
the same in another fifty years. There were no jobs,
but some old geezer down the road would pay five
dollars for raccoon pelts. One day on my visit, we
decided to give it a try and harvest a raccoon.
Travis and I each had a single shot twenty two
rifle and probably no more than a handful of bullets
between us. At four o'clock that afternoon, we loaded up
and walked across the big field beside the house. The
other side of the field was bordered by a heavy
pine forest. Many years before it had been logged, so
there was an old hall road that we followed deeper
into the woods. We had a small fis dog with us,
not much more than an oversized chihuahua, and it wasn't
long before the dog treed a raccoon. Travis killed it
without any problem. It was a big one, and we
took turns carrying it. It was so heavy that we
decided to hang it on the fork of a small
sapling and then pick it up on our way back.
We walked another half an hour or so deeper into
the woods, but it was getting too dark to see much,
so we decided to go back home. We only had
one flashlight and it was taped to the barrel of
my rifle with electrical tape. My rifle had a small
scope on it, but it was almost worthless as it
was getting too dark to see anything through the eyepiece.
About that time we got back to the sapling and
the dog started acting strange, and it circled around us,
and it was looking back, and it was howling. I
shined the light around and I saw two red eyes
high off the ground, but only for a second before
they vanished. There had always been stories about panthers in Louisiana,
but Travis said the eyes were much too high off
the ground, and there weren't any thick enough trees nearby
for a panther to have been perched over us, Plus
a panther's eyes shine would have been green, not red.
We continued walking and occasionally shine the light behind us.
The dog went nuts the whole time, howling and looking
back into the darkness. The eyes were not always visible,
but we could feel that we were being fallen, and
at one point we were so scared that Travis dropped
a cartridge into his rifle, But in his haste, he
tried to slam the bolt shut before the cartridge was
properly aligned, and it mangled the cartridge, and it's a
miracle that it didn't explode. After we left the woods
and walked into the field, we could see the lights
of the house ahead. We checked our rifles to make
sure that we both had a cartridge ready to fire,
and then we looked back at the trees, expecting to
finally see what had been following us. We could tell
it was there, but it wouldn't come out of the woods,
stayed just inside the tree line. We even saw its
eyes a couple of times. We decided to drop the
raccoon after about one hundred yards, and then continued walking
a short distance, and we waited, thinking that it would
come after it, But still it wouldn't leave the woods,
and when the light of Travis's mom's car turned into
the driveway, we left the raccoon in the field and
we ran back to the house. The next morning, we
went back for the raccoon, but it was gone, and
so was our five dollars. I have told this story
a few times when people have asked me if I
thought it might have been a bigfoot in nineteen seventy
I had never heard the term bigfoot. I don't remember
hearing anything or smelling anything. I've heard people say they
often hear knocks and screams or bad smells, but none
of that happened to us. Still, the presence of this
thing was uncanny. We didn't have to see it to
know that it was there with us. Travis and I
drifted apart after that, and I never did figure out
what was in the woods that night. Baby Travis is
a Dixie Cryptid fan too, and will remember the good
times that we had and that night that those red
eyes followed us all the way through the woods. Okay,
that is the perfect To me, that's the perfect Bigfoot story.
It's almost like, you know how they say girls these
days dressed too revealing and they don't leave anything to
the imagination. That's what this story is. It's a story
that's not showing us too much, but it's making us
wonder what in the world followed these guys out of
the woods. And there's some drama to it. I know
that sounds corny, but there's some drama to it. As
I was reading it, I kept I think ahead while
I'm reading. Sometimes I'm not even thinking about what I'm reading.
I'm thinking what's going to happen next, What's going to
happen next? And I kept thinking that in this story,
and it wasn't resolved in the end, which is almost
great because we get to figure, we get to imagine
what in the world was following this guys. Now, I
know people who follow the Bigfoot topic and all that
stuff are going to say, well, hell, that was a bigfoot.
Why would you think it was anything else? But it
could have been something else. It could have been it
could have been a mountain lion, it could have been
I don't know what has red eyes, Does anything have
red eyes in the woods. People always have an opinion
on that. Anyway, The point is it was a great story.
I really appreciate it. And I hope Travis is a
Dixie Cryptid fan and he hears this, and you two
guys can connect again. Wouldn't that be cool? So Travis,
send me an email if you want to reconnect with
your buddy, and I'll pass the email address on to him,
and you guys can reconnect. Talk about old times and
talk about that time that thing followed, y'all, raccoon hunting
all the way out of the woods down in Louisiana.
Lose Aarner as my grandparents, you say, down to lose Arner.
All right, let's go to another story. Thanks brother. Okay,
here's Rebecca says. This is a bigfoot and a grizzly
bear story. You know, I never talk about Rebecca Weston,
the woman who actually cleans up every single e I
don't even read them anymore. I just go through my list,
I copy them and paste them in a word file,
and I'll send her anywhere from ten to thirty at
a time. And she's always so fast, and she says
she loves doing this. I'm going to have her on
a live stream pretty soon. I would have done it
by now, but I have a computer. My computer used
to do live streams, but now I can't get it
to do anything. It's a computer I've had for about
six or seven years. I have a brand new computer,
but I haven't. I've got all my work software on
this one right here, and I kind of hate as
long as it's working. I hate to change it, you know,
because then I have to go through two days of
loading up software and blah blah blah. But as soon
as I get my new computer installed this spring, we're
gonna She's agreed to come on for a live you know.
Rebecca is an author. She's written a great book called
No Good Man. If you want to read it, do
a cir on Amazon for No good Man by Rebecca
Lee Wesson. I actually read the first chapter of that
book as a promo several months ago. And she's written
a couple of She's written one really good short story
for this channel called The hat Man. I thought it
was a great story. But I think she's a really
talented writer and man, she can smoke out these edits
for these emails like you wouldn't believe. And I really
appreciate her so much, so I never say much about Rebecca.
If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be able to
do hardly any of these stories because it takes forever
to kind of weed through them and make sure they're
written right, or at least make sure that they're written
so that I can just jump in and read them.
And that's the whole point of it. So, Rebecca, if
you're listening to this podcast, I appreciate you. I love you,
love your family, and I hope you guys are doing good.
All right, let's get on with this Bigfoot and Grizzly
Bear story. I am a seventy one year old female
born in Scott County, Arkansas. We lived in the backsticks.
Our farm bordered and was isolated by the Watchtaw National
Forest to the north and the foul lethe River to
the south. My two sisters and I had to be
up and out of bed at four thirty am. We
had to walk out of the river bottoms and cross
the river in an old wooden boat and then walked
two miles to catch the school bus. And if we
hadn't left the house by five thirty am, we would
miss the bus. I was nine years old and my
sister was twelve. Mama usually milked the cows, but this
morning she was sick, so my dad sent me and
my sister to do it instead. I was holding a
lnern so my sister could see, and we were almost
finished with the chore when something began to push on
the back of the barn. We thought it was our
old horse that had run outside. I held up the
lantern so I could see what was going on, and boy,
did we get the scare of our lives. There was
a giant, hairy man at least six feet tall at
the armpit, reaching and swatting at the thin air, trying
to grab onto something. From where it reached its arm end,
the creature would have been over seven feet tall, and
if it had pushed any harder on that door, it
would have been in the barn with us. We ran
back to the house and got ready and walked our
way to the bus stop. That thing must have followed us,
because a giant, barefoot track was freshly made in some
mud in the middle of the road. It was so
fresh that the water was still running into the track.
The track looked like a large man's foot track. But
this was in the middle of the winter, so no
one goes barefoot in the winter in Arkansas. Not even then. Then,
in the summer of twenty twenty, my husband and I
would often go down to the general area to fish
and just get out of the house. It was a
good escape from people. Exciting times with our cryptid friends
over the course of about four weeks. The first time
was quite exciting because the river was full and had
been flooded frequently, and finding bigfoots in the area really
took me by surprise. We had been fishing and we
were waiting for darkness, hoping that we could catch a
fish or two. I had seen some movement in the
wooded area across the river from us, and just as
it was getting dark, we heard a whooping yell. It
came loud and clear, just fifty yards straight across the
river from us, and not a moment later, a second
one did the same thing. Now this was the sound
that no human could have imitated. The second one came
fifty yards from us to our left. Altogether there were
about eight different whoops done within two minutes. Now, these
whoops sounded female to me, and there was a group
of whoops about one hundred yards that sounded really young.
I let out a whoop as loud and clear as
I could, and that's when all hell broke out. The
adult sounding critters got really excited and the young one
started screaming. I think my husband got scared, because he said,
let's get out of here. On another night, we went
back to the same spot the same exact time, and
the creature started whooping again, only this time they began
trying to yelp like coyotes, and they weren't doing a
very good job of it. We got our stuff and
got out of there. I have multiple scle Excuse me,
I can't pronounce that I have multiple sclerosis, and I
can't move very fast. Anyway, A week later we went back.
This time there was a handprint on the edge of
the river bank and there was a track next to
my chair. I looked at the handprint and the footprint
and determined they were not human. That footprint was tend
to fifteen inches long, and the handprint was what I
assumed a gorilla would have made. That evening, we didn't
try to disturb the sasquatches. After fishing for a while,
we called it today and we went home, and then
a week later we went back again. We always kept
a baseball bat in the truck to make woodknocks with,
so this time we decided to make some knocks before
we left. My husband sounded off with three loud knocks,
and we got a surprise when just five seconds later,
woodknocks began sounding off on the other side of the river.
I counted nine separate individuals knocking. That was the last
time we heard from them. After all that, I won't
be happy until I get to see a sasquatch out
in the open. Once when I was living in Wyoming,
my husband and I, along with some friends, decided to
go on a high altitude fishing trip in the wind
River Mountains. The highest mountain in this area was thirty
teen thousand feet. We were going to hike into some
of the lakes and fish for brook trout and rainbows
and grayling and anything else that would bite. We made
camp on the first evening and we ate our supper.
It was getting late and we were standing around the
campfire when out of nowhere came a bull moose. Now
that moose was running as if the devil himself was
after him. It just about ran over the campfire and
down the road about one hundred yards, and then he
wheeled around, and here he came again. We couldn't see
anything that could have spooked him so bad. My husband
and I cautioned everybody to be sure and to put
all their food away before turning in, so it was
not to attract unwanted visitors. Thinking nothing more of it,
we crawled in our tent and at five am, our
labradoodle let out a blood curdling growl that woke us up,
thinking codies were messing with her. I grabbed my flashlight
and my pistol and an unzip the tent. I shined
the light and I saw blonde hair on some kind
of animal. I told my husband to shoot up in
the air to scare it off. He shot twice, and
when that thing stuck its head around the tree, we
got the scare of our lives. It was a grizzly bear.
It stood flat footed, a head taller than I was.
I told my husband that that thing could have bitten
my head off, and it was a wonder that it didn't.
My husband shot up into the air twice, more like
a bolt of lightning. The bear was gone. It was
only a blur and it happened really fast. But knowing
the bear was in the area, we gathered all our
stuff and we got out of there. That was the
last time we ever slept on the ground. We went
the next weekend and got ourselves a topper for our truck.
That bear was and still was the most frightening thing
that has ever happened to me. But then again, I
have yet to see a sasquatch in the open, and
if that happens, I may stay and corrected. I hope
you enjoyed my short story. Yes, we enjoyed your short story.
That was wonderful. Wow. She's had encounters with bigfoot since
she was a kid, and then it just stopped. She's
not seeing them everywhere or hearing them everywhere anymore. It
just stopped, which is unusual for someone who has experiences
with bigfoot because they normally have bigfoot experiences all their lives.
And then so the bigfoot, the sysquatch experiences stop. And
then came the grizzly bear experience, which I think would
scare me more than anything. I don't know why, but
being out west in the mountains and even seeing a
grizzly bear that's close enough to run me down. It
puts such a fear in me. It's hard to describe.
And I'm reluctant to go out there and just do
like solo hiking or even group hiking because of the bears.
I've just heard too many stories. But it's almost like,
you know, people tell bigfoot stories and so other people
won't go in the woods, but I know bears that
killed people, they'll eat you. And if they have cubs around.
It's a female with cubs around, you're almost sure to
get that bear's attention and that full attention on you.
I don't know, it's hard to describe it. It's a
scary thing for me. And now we have black bears
in Mississippi. And I ran up on a track not
too long ago. That was the biggest track I've ever
seen of some kind of critters back here behind my house,
on my neighbor's property, and it's up on a levee
where it's muddy, and it was a clear track. I
couldn't tell exactly what it was. I took a picture
of it, and I started, not right away, but a
few days later I started looking for wildlife in this
area and what kind of tracks they made, And I
found out it was a beaver track. A beaver has
the strangest track you've ever seen. But I thought for
a minute it might be a bear. There's more to
that story, but I'm not going to bore you with
it anyway. I'm just rambling. This was a great story
about Bigfoot and her encounter with a grizzly bear. I
love this story. Seventy one years old. I think I
got this story back in twenty twenty or twenty twenty one,
so this is an old one. I'm still reaching back
that far to get stories, so I've still got thousands
to do. So I appreciate the woman for sending it,
and it makes me wonder if she's ever seen Sosquat
since that time out in the open, if she still
thinks the grizzly bear thing is the scariest thing she's
ever seen. I don't know. Let's go on to another story.
Thank you, ma'am. This is a dog story. A few
months ago I asked people if they had dog stories
they'd like to share with the audience to send them in,
and I got probably a dozen of those. I think
I've done four or five of them, and so I've
got several to do and I'll drop them in podcast
as we go along. But here's one that I thought
was pretty good. We have a dog named Dipstick, but
we didn't name him that because he's stupid. Our daughter
named him after one of the pups and the one
hundred and one Dalmatians show, her favorite movie. We got
him and his brother, Domino, in February of twenty sixteen.
They were half Great Pyrenees and half Blue Healer. We
lost Domino when he was four due to a mass
in his abdomen. I held him all the way home
after the bat put him down, and my husband buried
him in the back of our property. He was sweet
and loving and brave too, and always standing between me
and any stranger who might have passed by our home.
He never heard anyone, but I have no doubt he
would have if someone had tried to harm me. We
had a strange neighbor at the time who would often
come to the fence and talk to me while I
worked in the garden. Domino would stand by the fence
and growl, low his eyes on him the entire time. Dipstick, meanwhile,
would hide behind me. Is comforting to know that Domino
picked up on my and Dipstick's discomfort around this person.
Dipstick is still around and has matured into a good watchdog.
He howls the most mournful howl you've ever heard anytime
he hears a siren. He's also an unrelenting chicken killer,
so we do keep an eye on him. Once, when
our two dwarf Nigerian goats escaped their pen and got
into the yard with Dipstick, we were amazed that he
didn't hurt them. Instead, the three of them took up
like buddies, and since that day they frolic around our
property together. They're the best of friends. A stray dog
recently climbed the fence and entered our yard, intent on
reaching the goats. They ran away and climbed up on
their table, while good old Dipstick stood in front of
the intruding dog, barking and keeping him away. As soon
as my husband got there, the stray took off, but
I swear Dipsticks took his chest out and strutted around
the proud protector. It makes me smile just thinking about it.
I think the small female goat. Buttercup has been love
struck ever since. Oh that's a great story. You know,
dogs have different demeanors. Every dog I've had has got
a drastically different personality than all the rest of the
dogs I've never I've had one dog, my dog Roxy.
She's dead now, but she's in some of my old videos.
She's the brown brindled dog. And she was like our
She's the smartest dog we ever had, and she was
like Domino. If the grandkids were here and they were
out wandering around in the woods or were around this property,
she stayed right with them the whole way. She never
let them out of her sight, and she would only
see them maybe once every two months, but she remembered them,
and she knew them, and she knew that they needed
to have someone with them in the woods. And I'm
sure if they got turned around, she'd have got them home.
She's like Domino. She was kind of the pack leader.
And then I have plenty of dogs. I've had plenty
of dogs like Dipstick. They're kind of the followers, you know,
they're part of the pack, but they're not a leader.
And they'll do a lot of barking. They'll stand behind
Ji in bark, but they won't really do anything serious.
So anyway I could relate to this story exactly. I
could see all my dogs' personalities in these in Domino
and Dipstick. I thought it was great. If you've got
dog stories and you'd like to hear it on this podcast,
email it to me. I'm not promising i'll get to
it next week or even next month, but I will
get to them. I will do them all. They're so good.
I love to read about dogs, and I appreciate this
person sending the story because I loved it. Thank you, ma'am.
The story took place near the East Tennessee, North Carolina border,
right in the Cherokee National Forest many years ago. When
I was in college and had fewer responsibilities, a few
friends and I used to drive around the back roads,
listening to music and talking. We usually went at night,
well after we'd gotten off work, and since we worked
a restaurant and fast food jobs, that could be pretty
late in the evening. One summer night, there was going
to be a meteor shower, and I convinced my friend
John to drive out and see it, so we took
his car and another friend Jim tagged along. The road
we were on was residential, but rural enough to only
have houses every few hundred feet or so. And then
suddenly the road took somewhat of a sharp turn. On
the left hand side there was a bank about five
feet high with the manicured bushes on top. I saw
gray furry legs from the ankles to the hips, step
twice up the bank and disappear into the bushes. Did
you see that? Show? Got it? Neither of my friends
had noticed it, but of course they took the opportunity
to make fun of me. I was sure it had
been by a pedal and large. I didn't think it
was a bigfoot immediately. My first thought was that it
had been the mythical wampus cat of the Cherokee, especially
since what I saw reminded me of my sister's cat
with silver, gray white tips that made it look like
it was constantly covered in dust. But it was only
later that I knew what I had seen. Twenty minutes
after I saw these legs, we got to our destination,
the man made dam of a Tva lake, right on
the edge of the National Forest. It was a good
spot to see the stars, because there were no lights
around to interfere with a meteor shower. There was a
gate that closed its sundown to prevent people from driving
out onto the dam after dark, but there was a
parking lot close by with a grass median in the middle.
John drove around the median so that we'd be facing
the exit once we got back to the car, and
parked across several spots, since we were already the only
ones crazy enough to come out to the middle of
Nowhere to look at the stars. At one am in
the morning, John hadn't even turned the key to shut
off the car when there was a loud banging on
the roof that startled and scared us. Four raccoons had
jumped from their tree and landed on the roof of
the car, and they were running as fast as they
could down the windshield and across the hood. It scared us,
to say the least. Jim gave a quick laugh, but
I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
There was something else out there. From the back seat,
I caught a quick glance at John's expression in the
rear view mirror. He was staring at something behind the vehicle.
I've never seen fear that in anyone's eyes. Sense I
turned and looked out the rear window at what he
was seeing. It was at least ten feet tall, and
it had a cone shaped head, had broad shoulders and
long arms. I could only see the silhouette of this
creature against the night sky. I couldn't see any color
than black. I couldn't see a face, and no fur
or any other details. It was barely ten feet behind us,
and its legs were so long it could have reached
us in two steps if it wanted. Before I could
gasp or scream, John gunned the gas. One of the
back tires hit the curb on our way out of
the parking lot, but he never slowed down. I put
my head down and I tried not to think about
what would be scarier, wrecking and flipping the car on
one of these scary curves, or having Bigfoot catch up
to us. Jim kept yelling what are you doing? Where
you going? But John never answered. He just drove back
to the city lights as fast as he could. I
don't remember most of the trip back home. I'm sure
I was in shock. It wasn't until months later that
I realized the first sighting I had that night was
probably also a bigfoot. Based on the lay of the land.
It's entirely possible that it was the same one, as
it could have climbed the mountain much quicker than we
did driving slowly along a curvy mountain road with only
our headlights. Whether it was one or two of them
that I saw that night, I'll never know. We all
drifted apart. In college, we never told Jim what we'd seen,
though based on John's reaction, Jim knew something frightening had happened.
He never asked why we didn't get out of the
car and see the meteor shower. Now. I've told this
story maybe twice since then, always to other believers. It's
not as exciting or in up as many of your
other stories, but it was pretty scary at the time.
A few years after college, I went back up to
the dam during the daylight hours and with a family
member to go fishing. I noticed that the gates were
brand new, but the older ones nearby hadn't been removed.
A ranger happened to be nearby, and he'd said that
they'd been damaged by a car crashing into them, but
the cagy way that he said it and the way
that they had been twisted out of shape told me
that he knew that wasn't what had happened. I just
nodded and made a mental note to be gone long
before sunset? Man, what are you talking about? That? This
is not an in depth exciting story like the others
that I read. This is just this is just exactly
or more exciting than any of them. This is a
typical Bigfoot encounter, at least the ones that I get.
I thought it was too terribly exciting. And this podcast
seems to be full of people recounting older episodes in
their lives where they either see or hear. This one
was an actual visual, but they see or hear or
smell something that they just know they know what it was.
I thought this was fantastic. I wish I could say
more about it, because I'm just plumped after reading it.
But that's about all I can say. What a great story.
And he's revisited the place and the gates are all
twisted up, and he knows what twisted those gates up.
That's what's kind of creepy. Anyway, Thanks for the story.
We loved it. Thank you so much. To you and
all the writers who send me stories. This was fantastic.
Listening to the stories you tell has brought back a
lot of good memories. I grew up hunting and fishing
and pulling gen seeing and exploring God's beautiful Appalachian Mountains.
I had more exposure to Bigfoot than most people would
have or even want. We lived beside a clan that was,
for the most part, relatively passive. Not to say they
didn't get an attitude every now and then, but we
learned to deal with them. I remember the first time
I ever saw one up close. Grandma used to bake
pies in the late afternoon for dessert or for breakfast
the next day. She had just finished putting one pecan
and one apple pie on the shelf next to the
window over the sink to cool well. I was finishing
lunch at the table when I heard my Grandma start yelling.
She came through the door of the living room with
a switch in her hand and headed straight for the
window where the pies were. There. In the window, I
saw a furry hand grab a hold of the pie.
Grandma wielded that hickory like a ninja sword, smacking that
hairy hand on the knuckles. As it and the pie
went out the window. I ran over to see who
had done it, and what I saw would be the
first of many times that I saw him and his family.
This creature was six feet tall, and he was running
with a pie in his hand, faster than any animal
I'd ever seen. He made a beeline straight for the woods,
making a grunting and laughing sound the whole way. A
Grandma was hollering at it, as any good Christian woman
would have done to any pie thief. Grandpa came running
through the living room door just in time to see
it disappear into the darkness of the tree line. He
started to chuckle because of Grandma, but he clambed up
real quick. With one look from her and her country's sword,
he wiped that smile right off his face, and his
hand fell on my shoulder. Said he needed my help,
and I followed him out to the front porch, and
he sat down in his rocking chair, and he bit
off a chew at tobacco and offered me some. We
sat there for a quiet minute until he said, I
bet you want to know what that furry creator was,
don't you? At twelve years old. I'd been exposed to
a lot of things on the farm. I had killed
and plucked chickens. I had prepped hogs and cattle for slaughter.
I had hunted and skinned deer, squirrels, and about anything
else that ran or crawled but failed to get away
from us. I was shocked by what I had seen,
but more curious than anything else. Grandpa told me that
this was a bugger, at least that's what us folks
in the hills call them. He explained that there was
a family of them that lived several miles over the ridge.
Last he counted, there were six of them. But what
I saw was a young male about my age. He
said it wasn't the first time Grandma had had to
get on that one. He never did any harm, but
like Grandma's cooking, couldn't get mad at that. Everybody loved
Grandma's cooking. He went on to tell me that the
klan had lived in the area most of his life.
Every now and then they would come in for a visit,
but they never got real close. Only the younger male
had the courage to test the speed of Grandma's hickory switch.
They sometimes came around at night, but usually just to
pass through or take a peek through the windows. He
went on to say that they'd run into them in
the woods on occasion, though you'd never get a clear
view of them unless they wanted to be seen. The key,
he said, was that if you feel like someone's got
eyes on you, they probably do. And he warned me
to never approach them, and if I did happen upon
one accidentally, it was gunned down, hands up, big smile,
and back away real slow. He said, they might growl
or make a weird noise at me, but that would
probably be the end of it. Well, sure's rain. I
was blessed to have many encounters with them, and not
all of them were pleasant. There were a few times
when I was caught face to face with one, but
I remembered what Grandpa taught me, gun down, hands up,
big smile. I never had a problem. If I have time,
I might write down some of my experiences and send
them in to you. I think your audience would enjoy it.
I'm fifty seven years old now and I don't really
care what people think. Am I crazy? Well, hell, yes,
I'm crazy, but delusional, not at all. I'm like you, Cam.
I don't live to prove their existence or disprove their existence.
I know they exist from my own experiences, and make
no mistake. They can hurt you, but they will also
live with you if you let them. You have to
treat them as you would any other of God's predators.
Give them respect, give them room, and everybody most of
the time will get along. By the way, that young
fellow who took grandma's pie, she found six fresh apples
on her window seal the next morning. Oh man, hey, first,
let me say I'm gonna apologize about that chicken outside
my door. It keeps yapping. Listen to her, Listen to her.
You know what, I think I got my side by
side out there. I think she's just laid an egg
in the seat. That's what they do when they they
celebrate after they lay an egg. I bet I find
an egg in the seat. Anyway, this story was great.
I really appreciate it. I think bigfoot in Appalachia is
quite common. And these people that claim that they live
with them, I have no reason at all to doubt
these people. They are so matter of fact about it,
like this man was in his story. He's just a
matter of fact about it. Well, there, we live with them.
They steal my grandma's pies, they love her cooking. They're shy.
Only one of them's brave. Everything he said in this
really makes a lot of sense to me. So I
appreciate the story. Thank you for taking the time to
write it. I know the audience loved it. And if
you do have time, I'd love to read some of
your other experiences, so please send them in. Thank you
for the story. Okay, that was a great set of stories.
You know, I just randomly run my cursor through the
folder and I just pick out random stories four or five,
and I slide them over into this podcast file and
I just start reading them. I'm just getting lucky and
getting some really good ones. So with that, we'll go
ahead and wind this one up. Thank you all for listening.
I really appreciate you, and we'll see you on the
next week. Thank you.