Speaker 1: I was in the Marine Corps for eight years, and
Speaker 1: I spent my professional career in law enforcement. I had
Speaker 1: my first encounter with sasquatch when I was twelve. I
Speaker 1: didn't know anything about sasquatch. Then. I came from a
Speaker 1: family of outdoorsmen and hunters and loggers, but no one
Speaker 1: ever talked about bigfoot. It was February of nineteen eighty one,
Speaker 1: and I had been running traplines and hunting the Canyon
Speaker 1: Creek area for muskrats, red foxes, bobcats, and the like.
Speaker 1: In the winters, I would make upward of one thousand dollars.
Speaker 1: That was great money for a kid my age, but
Speaker 1: it did take a lot of work. When my friends
Speaker 1: were playing U sports and watching cartoons and going to movies,
Speaker 1: I was building up for the grueling cold and heading
Speaker 1: out to run my line. It gets brutally cold in Montana,
Speaker 1: twenty to thirty degrees below zero without the wind chill.
Speaker 1: But every morning, while the rest of the kids I
Speaker 1: knew were still fast asleep, I would start the coffee
Speaker 1: on the stove and pack my bag full of food,
Speaker 1: and I would insulate my entire body layer over layer
Speaker 1: until I looked like the Staypuff marshmallow Man, and that
Speaker 1: was before I even put the parka on. When I
Speaker 1: was all geared up, I tied my dad's Coleman lantern
Speaker 1: around my wrist with a length of rope in case
Speaker 1: it fell in the creek, and then I'd grab my gun.
Speaker 1: The creek was only a few miles away. It was
Speaker 1: so cold, and the air sparkle with the frost, and
Speaker 1: the moon light bounced off the snow, providing relatively good
Speaker 1: lighting for old dark thirty in the morning. I used
Speaker 1: my knotted rope that I tied to the bridge, and
Speaker 1: I started the thirty foot climb down to the bottom
Speaker 1: of the draw through the knee deep snow. Down the
Speaker 1: steep slope, let go of the rope, fired up the lantern,
Speaker 1: and trudged my first trap two hundred feet downstream from
Speaker 1: the bridge. The creek was frozen a good twelve inches
Speaker 1: stick except for where I set my muskrat traps. I
Speaker 1: ran my land traps in a zigzag pattern with no
Speaker 1: set spacing each trap about five hundred feet from the next.
Speaker 1: I finally made my way to my first trap, only
Speaker 1: to find it had been ripped out of the ground
Speaker 1: and torn to pieces. It was pure steel, and all
Speaker 1: of it bent and pulled apart like tinfoil. It had
Speaker 1: been set off to the side of the game trail
Speaker 1: midway up the draw. It wasn't a large trap, but
Speaker 1: it was strong enough to hold a large bobcat or
Speaker 1: a coyote. For something to tear it apart was impressive
Speaker 1: and disturbing unless they used a sledge hammer. I was
Speaker 1: stumped about the whole thing, and I was angry. Those
Speaker 1: traps were expensive, especially for a kid. I threw the
Speaker 1: trap in my bag and hoisted it over my shoulder,
Speaker 1: and I headed to the second trap, and I noticed
Speaker 1: immediately how the snow had been trampled around it and
Speaker 1: packed so hard it was impossible to tell what the
Speaker 1: tracks were. It wasn't normal. Not only that my trap
Speaker 1: was gone. All that was left was a hole in
Speaker 1: the frozen dirt scattered around where my two foot long
Speaker 1: rebar steak had been ripped from deep out of the ground.
Speaker 1: I was more than pissed someone had been messing with
Speaker 1: my traps. I knew it wasn't an animal, It couldn't
Speaker 1: have been an animal, and now I was on a mission.
Speaker 1: I headed to my next trap, this time following the
Speaker 1: trail that had been plowed through the snow. Like the
Speaker 1: last two, it had been ripped out of the ground.
Speaker 1: I kept going my pace, picking up and dreading what
Speaker 1: I'd find at the fourth trap, one that i'd sit
Speaker 1: in the ice. That's when my life changed forever. At
Speaker 1: the sight, I saw bigfoot prints with long strides freezing
Speaker 1: over in the ice and heading toward and leading away
Speaker 1: from my trap hole. The trap was trashed, and the
Speaker 1: hole it had been set in and was broken around
Speaker 1: the edges. Something didn't sit right with me. As I
Speaker 1: looked around, the ice was four inches thick. It would
Speaker 1: have taken brute force or something enormous to bust through it.
Speaker 1: I knew a black bear couldn't do that. They weren't
Speaker 1: heavy enough to break through the ice that thick. I
Speaker 1: had seen cattle walk across thinner ice than this, and
Speaker 1: they weighed a lot more. We didn't have grizzly bear
Speaker 1: or moose in the area, and I started wrecking my
Speaker 1: brain trying to understand it. It was still an hour
Speaker 1: or so from dawn. Something had torn up my traps.
Speaker 1: My skin was crawling, and I knew something was very wrong.
Speaker 1: I turned off the lantern so my eyes could adjust
Speaker 1: to the darkness. I wrapped my scarf around me mouth
Speaker 1: so that the steaming air wouldn't block my vision. I
Speaker 1: started to turn in a slow circle, trying to catch
Speaker 1: any movement, listening for sounds that didn't belong. After a
Speaker 1: few minutes, I heard it, the distinct sound of ice
Speaker 1: breaking and something dunking into the water. It was coming
Speaker 1: down the creek toward my next trap. I heard it again,
Speaker 1: ice cracking and water splashing, and over and over. Something
Speaker 1: was walking over the ice, breaking through with each step,
Speaker 1: and it was getting louder. It was getting closer. That's
Speaker 1: when the smell hit me. Smell like rotten flesh and
Speaker 1: moldy onion and curdled milk and trap bait. The foulest
Speaker 1: thing I had ever smelled, and it was so intense
Speaker 1: I vomited, loud and unbridled. When I recovered, the crashing stopped,
Speaker 1: I looked down the creek and I saw a shadow,
Speaker 1: lit by the moonlight, moving from around a bit and
Speaker 1: in the creek and disappearing into the sand cherry bushes.
Speaker 1: It was taller than anything around it. It had the
Speaker 1: outline of a human, but it couldn't be It was
Speaker 1: the biggest damn thing I'd ever seen, standing at least
Speaker 1: two feet over those six foot tall bushes. I knew
Speaker 1: it wasn't a bear, and unless Andre the Giant had
Speaker 1: been hanging around my town and stealing my traps, I
Speaker 1: knew that I was in trouble. I heard it huffing
Speaker 1: heavy and deep from its diaphragm as it glided around
Speaker 1: the bushes and kept coming toward me. I was stunned
Speaker 1: by its movements, feline and graceful despite its impossible size.
Speaker 1: I dropped the lantern and dropped my gun into my hands.
Speaker 1: I couldn't make out what it was other than it
Speaker 1: had two legs and two arms and shaggy hair covering
Speaker 1: all over it. There was no way I would get
Speaker 1: up the steep side of the draw through all of
Speaker 1: that snow. I was a mile and a half from
Speaker 1: the bridge and my rope. I needed to do something,
Speaker 1: so I yelled at it, Hey stop right there, hey,
Speaker 1: hey stop. To my surprise, it stopped. It didn't growl
Speaker 1: or below, it just stopped. It probably didn't know what
Speaker 1: to make of me. Here was a kid wrapped in
Speaker 1: eighteen layers of clothes standing in the middle of the
Speaker 1: creek making a fuss. I was a fearless kid raised
Speaker 1: by hardened men. It made perfect sense to me to
Speaker 1: stand my ground and make myself big and try to
Speaker 1: scare the thread away, just like I'd been taught. So
Speaker 1: that's what I did. Hey, go on and get get now.
Speaker 1: But it just kept coming. But it wasn't quick, not cautiously.
Speaker 1: It was just interested. When it maneuvered within charging range,
Speaker 1: I pointed my gun in the air above its head,
Speaker 1: and I pulled the trigger. I have done brighter things
Speaker 1: in my life, and pulling the trigger wasn't one of them. First,
Speaker 1: the shots sort of had the desired effect. The monster
Speaker 1: man let out a screen that really angry people make
Speaker 1: when they're startled. I could handle that until the scream
Speaker 1: mixed with a murderous roar that vibrated through my bones.
Speaker 1: Some people say that when they had an encounter, they
Speaker 1: were frozen in time. Well that's not what happened to me.
Speaker 1: Everything I had been taught by the proud men in
Speaker 1: my family went right out the window. Baby with the bathwater.
Speaker 1: I knew at the moment that I had screwed up
Speaker 1: very bad. I dropped the rifle and took off as
Speaker 1: fast as my tightly packed legs could run. I flew
Speaker 1: over that icy creek. Certain the devil and all this
Speaker 1: hell hounds were on my tail. My lungs were on
Speaker 1: fire and my legs were numb. But I could not stop,
Speaker 1: because if I did, I would have been the monster's breakfast.
Speaker 1: The sun was breaking the horizon. I could see glints
Speaker 1: of pink light glowing on the silver painted iron bridge
Speaker 1: ahead of me. Blood pounded in my ears, and my
Speaker 1: head felt like it was splitting, and the coppery taste
Speaker 1: of blood came with each breath, my lungs aching like
Speaker 1: I'd torn something. Never ran so fast in my life.
Speaker 1: I was almost there. I was almost safe. I hit
Speaker 1: that rope and I flew up the draw and I
Speaker 1: scrambled over the edge and I collapsed on the road.
Speaker 1: There was nothing left in me. If the monster man
Speaker 1: thing was behind me, I was done. Every breath was agonizing.
Speaker 1: I was coughing and sobbing and throwing up, and I
Speaker 1: lay there and waited to be murdered. I was sure
Speaker 1: I wouldn't see my parents again. I was sure I'd
Speaker 1: be the next kid on the side of a milk carton.
Speaker 1: But I don't know why of the sasquatch didn't tear
Speaker 1: me into pieces. It easily could have. Maybe it followed
Speaker 1: me for a bit long enough to laugh at the
Speaker 1: puny little human marshmallow chugging up the creek, slipping over
Speaker 1: the ice and arms and legs felling screaming bloody murder,
Speaker 1: with the stupid lantern bouncing all over the place behind me.
Speaker 1: If I were that sasquatch, I would have been in
Speaker 1: tears laughing. I like to think that that's what happened,
Speaker 1: but in reality, it probably wasn't remotely interested in me
Speaker 1: after it realized the minuscule threat I posed. I never
Speaker 1: went back down that draw again. I never picked up
Speaker 1: my traps. I didn't go back from my rifle or
Speaker 1: my bag. I got in trouble for losing my rifle,
Speaker 1: but I didn't care. Dad told me that we were
Speaker 1: going back to get it, but I refused. He couldn't
Speaker 1: drag me down there if he wanted to. I would
Speaker 1: have fought him tooth and nail. And I never ran
Speaker 1: a trap line again either. Instead of being the kid
Speaker 1: who woke up hours before daylight, bumbling up for the
Speaker 1: grilling cold and heading out to run my lines. I
Speaker 1: became the one who played you sports and watch cartoons
Speaker 1: in the morning, and I went to the movies, and
Speaker 1: I became a normal teenage boy, A normal teenage boy
Speaker 1: with a crippling fear of the dark. It's a shame, really,
Speaker 1: that a wholesome, hard working kid had his life turned
Speaker 1: inside out like that. The Montana I grew up in
Speaker 1: has changed so much that I no longer recognize it.
Speaker 1: The fields I used to hunter now housing subdivisions. The
Speaker 1: creek I used to run my trap lines on now
Speaker 1: runs through ten miles of drain culverts. Evidence of my
Speaker 1: childhood was slowly paved over for the sake of progress,
Speaker 1: not unlike the fear I carried from that life changing morning,
Speaker 1: a terrible memory paving over my innocence. Over forty years
Speaker 1: have passed since my encounter, Yet still I find myself
Speaker 1: half tensing when I drive past a familiar bend in
Speaker 1: the road from my youth, afraid of what I saw,
Speaker 1: afraid of what may be out there. Sometimes I get
Speaker 1: up in the middle of the night to close the
Speaker 1: curtains over and the windows that look out into the
Speaker 1: woods behind our house. I know there are monsters out there.
Speaker 1: Lurking in the shadows. They're watching us, and they're waiting. Hey.
Speaker 1: Before we get into this next story, I wanted to
Speaker 1: tell you about a book i'm reading. I think it
Speaker 1: came out a year or two ago. It's called hal Mary.
Speaker 1: It's written by Andy Weir. It's a science fiction story.
Speaker 1: I think they made a movie about it that should
Speaker 1: be coming out this March or April or May, or
Speaker 1: maybe this summer. I'm not sure. You know, I don't
Speaker 1: often recommend books, but I've read the book, and my
Speaker 1: son has listened to the audio books several times. He
Speaker 1: says he never listens to audio books more than once,
Speaker 1: but he said it is so good that he's listened
Speaker 1: to it like three times. Driving to work and back
Speaker 1: is a forty five minute drive to working back, So
Speaker 1: I want to recommend that to y'all. My son said,
Speaker 1: the audiobook is great. I haven't got the audiobook, but
Speaker 1: I read the print book. It is exceptional. It moves
Speaker 1: really fast. If you're not a committed reader, and you know,
Speaker 1: like reading one thing after another kind of sort of
Speaker 1: like I do. I don't read that much. My wife does,
Speaker 1: but I don't. I probably read one book a month
Speaker 1: that is a book to get. You cannot put it down,
Speaker 1: even someone who doesn't read much. You will really enjoy
Speaker 1: this book. So get it on Kendall or order the paperback,
Speaker 1: or go to your local bookstore and pick it up.
Speaker 1: It's called Hail Mary by Andy Weir. I think you'll
Speaker 1: really love it. Okay, let's go to another Bigfoot story.
Speaker 1: Years ago, in nineteen sixty four, my family went to
Speaker 1: visit a friend of my father's. He had two kids
Speaker 1: my age, and the three of us quickly set out
Speaker 1: into the woods to check out a treehouse that they'd built.
Speaker 1: We ran all over those woods, checking out the treehouse
Speaker 1: and playing chase, and before I knew it, we became lost.
Speaker 1: We couldn't find our tracks in and couldn't distinguish one
Speaker 1: identical tree from the next, and brush mirrored itself everywhere.
Speaker 1: We had no idea where to go. We started walking slowly,
Speaker 1: packed tightly together, eyes alert, trying to stay calm as
Speaker 1: we worked our way out. Somewhere in the trees, we
Speaker 1: heard a grunt and then a long, slow exhale. We
Speaker 1: didn't make a sound, we couldn't move. Something was out
Speaker 1: there checking us out, but we couldn't see it. The
Speaker 1: sound of it felt completely out of place. It was
Speaker 1: deep and big and deliberate. We looked at each other,
Speaker 1: all of us hoping the other had an idea. What
Speaker 1: the hell this was? It was just out of you.
Speaker 1: And then that rancid smell was all over us. We
Speaker 1: couldn't get away from it. We were even more confused
Speaker 1: than before. We were on the verge of gagging. And
Speaker 1: then the trees erupted into noise. Branches were swinging and
Speaker 1: leaves were rustling like a storm was passing through. Our
Speaker 1: backs were pressed together. One of the other kids had
Speaker 1: the courage to call out hello. The trees went still.
Speaker 1: There was no answer. We stared at each other again,
Speaker 1: baffled into silence and disoriented, and that stench was unrelenting.
Speaker 1: And then the noise erupted again. Trees were rustling as
Speaker 1: if something were shaking their bases. Limbs were nearly breaking off.
Speaker 1: We backed away slowly until the noise shifted, and then
Speaker 1: we backed the other direction, and it got closer, and
Speaker 1: we backed up some more. That creature hurted us right
Speaker 1: back to the trail where we entered the woods, and
Speaker 1: not once were we able to lay eyes on this thing.
Speaker 1: We made it back to the house in one piece,
Speaker 1: more confused than we were, afraid something out there was
Speaker 1: helping us, and miraculously my parents believed. To me, I
Speaker 1: think the confusion on our faces must have said it all. Oh,
Speaker 1: that's a good story. That's a good Bigfoot story. Where
Speaker 1: you go in the woods, kids go in the woods,
Speaker 1: they get lost. Apparently the Bigfoot doesn't want you in there,
Speaker 1: and he kind of herds you back, and he actually
Speaker 1: saved them from getting lost. Those kids could have been
Speaker 1: out there wandering around for days with search parties and
Speaker 1: all the things that go along with that. That was
Speaker 1: a great story. I know that this person who wrote
Speaker 1: this must have been terrified, but I really appreciate them
Speaker 1: sharing it with us because it's kind of a lighter
Speaker 1: side of Bigfoot. Sometimes they help you, sometimes they just
Speaker 1: run you off. Great story. Thank you for to the writer.
Speaker 1: I grew up in Australia's island state of Tasmania, east
Speaker 1: of the capital city Hobart. I'm descended from Scottish free
Speaker 1: settlers and Irish and English convicts who were transported to
Speaker 1: what was then called Van Diamond's Island for petty crimes
Speaker 1: in the eighteen thirties. Tasmania still has remnants of many
Speaker 1: convict built historical buildings and other structures. An old friend
Speaker 1: of mine from school had a holiday house on the
Speaker 1: Tasman Peninsula, about ten miles as the crow flies from
Speaker 1: the infamous penal station of Port Arthur. The station was
Speaker 1: operational from the eighteen thirties to the eighteen eighties. Convicts
Speaker 1: relegated to places like Port Arthur and the Tasman Peninsula
Speaker 1: were repeat offenders or had committed worse crimes. In the
Speaker 1: peninsula is hard to escape from due to the surrounding
Speaker 1: shark and fested waters. My friend's holiday homes in the
Speaker 1: former convict hospital at Saltwater River, which wound down around
Speaker 1: eighteen eighty and then was sold off. In its heyday,
Speaker 1: it would have primarily served the convicts who worked the
Speaker 1: nearby infamous coal mines, but also harvested big timber from
Speaker 1: the native forests or quarried sandstone by hand. Conditions for
Speaker 1: the convicts at places like the Tasman Peninsula were harsh
Speaker 1: and terrible accidents were not uncommon, so the convict hospital
Speaker 1: at Saltwater River probably saw a lot of action back
Speaker 1: in the day. In the early nineteen nineties, a year
Speaker 1: or two after we had all finished school, my friend
Speaker 1: held a party at her holiday house. A heap of
Speaker 1: us friends attended, each of us either at the university
Speaker 1: or starting out in the workforce as young adults. We
Speaker 1: drove down for the weekend and camped out on the
Speaker 1: floors and beds of the old convict hospital. We had
Speaker 1: set a fire in the backyard in the ruins of
Speaker 1: what had once been a large wooded firebrick oven. The
Speaker 1: bricks made by the convicts and coveted by collectors even today,
Speaker 1: since they bare the single thumbprint from the convict who
Speaker 1: pressed the wet clay into the brick mold. At one
Speaker 1: point on that Saturday evening, I found myself alone out
Speaker 1: in the backyard. I was enjoying the warmth of the
Speaker 1: fire with a cigarette, leaning on one of the high
Speaker 1: tables set in a fan shape in front of it.
Speaker 1: It was a cool night. The fire was big. I
Speaker 1: was just close enough to feel the warmth. There was
Speaker 1: probably three or four beers in and I was feeling
Speaker 1: fine as I stared at the bush TV, which is
Speaker 1: what we called a campfire in Australia. I watched the
Speaker 1: flames climb the inside of the old chimney walls and
Speaker 1: the occasional shoot into the dark night. I noticed what
Speaker 1: looked like a person sitting at a table to my right.
Speaker 1: I turned my head, thinking it was one of my friends,
Speaker 1: but then the shape disappeared. As soon as I look
Speaker 1: back at the fire, the person came back. By keeping
Speaker 1: my head straight ahead, I realized I could use my
Speaker 1: peripheral vision and the figure would stay in place. After
Speaker 1: a while, I could make out the person's features, and
Speaker 1: soon it was clear she was an older lady, maybe
Speaker 1: in her late fifties or early sixties. She had long, flowing, curly,
Speaker 1: sandy colored hair, and she was wearing a long, formal
Speaker 1: summer dress. She was leaning forward on her elbows and
Speaker 1: had her hands cupped under her chin supporting her head
Speaker 1: as she smiled at the fire. She looked really happy
Speaker 1: and content. Somehow I managed not to freak out, so
Speaker 1: I didn't feel threatened in any way. I was more
Speaker 1: fascinated than anything. But after several minutes of observation, I
Speaker 1: realized we weren't alone. At my ten o'clock just to
Speaker 1: the left of the fire was another visitor. This time
Speaker 1: it was a taller man standing in the shadow of
Speaker 1: the chimney. I instinctively turned my head and he disappeared.
Speaker 1: I turned to the woman's table and she was gone too,
Speaker 1: And when I turned back to the fire, they both
Speaker 1: materialized in the same positions as before. The man looked angry,
Speaker 1: and he wasn't looking at the fire either. He appeared
Speaker 1: to be glaring at the woman. She was still happily
Speaker 1: watching the fire, oblivious to him and his terrible stare.
Speaker 1: The man had dark set eyes and dark hair with
Speaker 1: big Neil Young style lamb chops. He wore a flannel
Speaker 1: at work shirt. After several more minutes, I decided to
Speaker 1: make my move. This guy was looking pretty cranky and
Speaker 1: his presence was starting to unsettle me. I got myself
Speaker 1: up and went back inside the shack, where everyone was
Speaker 1: having a good time. I eventually found my friend in
Speaker 1: the hallway and I blurted out that I had just
Speaker 1: seen two ghosts. She didn't instantly dismiss me as I'd
Speaker 1: half expected, and asked me what had happened. I explained
Speaker 1: the two people I had seen in as much detail
Speaker 1: as I could remember. The more I described each of them,
Speaker 1: the more interested and then concerned she grew, and when
Speaker 1: I was finished, I asked if she'd ever seen a
Speaker 1: ghost there. She paused and she said no, and then
Speaker 1: she told me who she thought they were. Nearly a
Speaker 1: decade earlier, a woman who lived in a nearby cottage
Speaker 1: decided to return to her home in England to visit family. Unfortunately,
Speaker 1: she passed away while she was there. My friend's description
Speaker 1: of her was exactly the woman I'd seen watching the
Speaker 1: fire and around I'm the same time of her passing,
Speaker 1: another neighbor had sadly committed suicide. He had lived in
Speaker 1: a small house one hundred yards away, which my family
Speaker 1: friends had purchased from his estate. The way she described
Speaker 1: him was exactly the man I saw. We decided not
Speaker 1: to tell anyone about this. Years later, my friend and
Speaker 1: I would occasionally talk about that night. Her family sold
Speaker 1: the hospital house twenty years ago, but they kept the
Speaker 1: small house next door, and she and her new family
Speaker 1: still holiday there. That's it for now, cam Convict Heritage
Speaker 1: and Convict Hospital, a bit of a convict history and
Speaker 1: some contemporary ghost I've got another story to write and
Speaker 1: send you one day about a UFO I experienced in
Speaker 1: the Northern Territory desert in nineteen ninety six, and there
Speaker 1: were zero bears consumed when I saw it. Keep up
Speaker 1: the good work and all the best of you and
Speaker 1: your listeners, parom mate aka see you later in Australia,
Speaker 1: and he signs off. Tim. What a nice guy, What
Speaker 1: a nice letter. What a great story about ghosts in Tasmania. Oh,
Speaker 1: that was very intriguing. I'm not sure what to make
Speaker 1: of these ghosts and these apparitions people see. I have
Speaker 1: my opinions on what they are, but I could be wrong.
Speaker 1: I could be terribly wrong, but I don't think I am,
Speaker 1: but I don't know for sure. You know, until you
Speaker 1: just know for sure, you have to say this is
Speaker 1: what I think they are. But I don't really know.
Speaker 1: So you got to say that. That would be the
Speaker 1: same as Bigfoot. But many people don't do that. They're
Speaker 1: pretty sure about everything about Bigfoot, the ghosts, or something else,
Speaker 1: UFOs or something else. That's kind of why I like
Speaker 1: him anyway, Tim, thanks for the email. It's a very
Speaker 1: very well written story and I certainly do appreciate it.
Speaker 1: Thank you. In I ninety nine, job had moved me
Speaker 1: to Denver, Colorado, where my brother lived. I hadn't seen
Speaker 1: him in seven years, so when I surprised him one
Speaker 1: day at his door, we were both over the moon.
Speaker 1: My brother suggested that we took a cruise up and
Speaker 1: down berth Of paths so we could talk and catch up.
Speaker 1: We were driving and laughing and having a good time
Speaker 1: and enjoying the incredible mountains. As we came around to Ben,
Speaker 1: I slowed down so I wouldn't slide over the edge.
Speaker 1: I slowed down enough to notice something in my rear
Speaker 1: view mirror. It was a big, black, furry thing. I
Speaker 1: pointed it out to my brother, who said it was
Speaker 1: just a bear. I pulled over twenty yards from the animal,
Speaker 1: and I grabbed a bag of apples that we bought
Speaker 1: before the drive. I tossed one at it, and I
Speaker 1: accidentally hit it on the side of the head. It
Speaker 1: stopped what it was doing and it looked at the apple,
Speaker 1: and then my fight or flight kicked in. I watched
Speaker 1: it reach out and grab that apple with the biggest
Speaker 1: hand I'd ever seen. Heard my brother behind me whisper,
Speaker 1: that's not a bear, it's a bigfoot. My brother and
Speaker 1: I are Navajo. We grew up hearing stories about bigfoot
Speaker 1: and we were told what to do and what not
Speaker 1: to do if we were confronted by one. Well, I
Speaker 1: stood my ground and I watched him stand up, and
Speaker 1: he studied me, and I swear my soul tried to
Speaker 1: leave my body. He was nine feet tall, his head
Speaker 1: was massive, but he had no neck. His thick eyes
Speaker 1: were alert, knowing and watching every move that I made.
Speaker 1: And his chest looked like two fifty gallon drums stuck together,
Speaker 1: and his skin was like hard leather. I turned to
Speaker 1: my brother behind me. He started to shake his head,
Speaker 1: eyes pleading, knowing full well what I was about to do.
Speaker 1: I was gonna hand this thing the bag of apples.
Speaker 1: He's going to kill you, My brother his you're crazy.
Speaker 1: I told him to go sit in the car and
Speaker 1: wait for me if something did happen. I wanted him
Speaker 1: to be able to tell our family. Now. I know
Speaker 1: the decision was reckless, but I couldn't pass up the
Speaker 1: chance of a life altering interaction with a creature of
Speaker 1: this type of lore. I wanted to show up my respect,
Speaker 1: even if it meant risking my life. I finally got
Speaker 1: the nerve to walk up to it, calmly and slowly,
Speaker 1: as confidently as I could. When I was only several
Speaker 1: feet away, I could smell him. It was so intense
Speaker 1: that my eyes watered and my skin began to itch.
Speaker 1: The smell must have been a defense mechanism, because he
Speaker 1: lifted his arms and it intensified who To show him,
Speaker 1: I meant no harm. I dropped on one knee and
Speaker 1: I set the bag of apples in front of me,
Speaker 1: and then I put my head down to show him
Speaker 1: the back of my neck. I was staring at his big,
Speaker 1: hairy toes, and I felt his hand to grab my neck.
Speaker 1: I can still feel the oil from his palm. At
Speaker 1: that point, I was sure my brother would watch my
Speaker 1: head get popped off like a grape. And then suddenly
Speaker 1: he let me go, and he took the apples and
Speaker 1: he left. I stayed there, kneeling for longer than I
Speaker 1: can remember. I was shocked and scared, but mostly honored
Speaker 1: the sound of my brother backing up and stopping the
Speaker 1: car beside me broke my days. I got in a
Speaker 1: changed man and we drove off. Thank you for reading this,
Speaker 1: and many blessings from my family to yours, and he
Speaker 1: signs off night Wolf. I love getting these stories from
Speaker 1: Native people. They seem to have a calmness. And I'm
Speaker 1: reluctant to say connection, but for lack of a better term,
Speaker 1: they seem to have some kind of connection with these
Speaker 1: animals or with these creatures, and it really huminates my mind,
Speaker 1: if that makes sense. It makes me think at a
Speaker 1: higher level, speaking of having a connection with animals like
Speaker 1: the Navajos, I wish I had a connection with animals.
Speaker 1: You know, we have chickens around here. We've had probably
Speaker 1: two hundred chickens. They we get them as chicks, we
Speaker 1: raise them up, they die off, predators get them. We
Speaker 1: keep about twenty or thirty on hand all the time.
Speaker 1: We love the eggs, but mainly I just like having
Speaker 1: them around the yard. I like watching them, and they're
Speaker 1: just they're easy to keep. And anyway, all that time,
Speaker 1: I've only had one hen, and that was our first
Speaker 1: batch of hens, and it was a big orpington, one
Speaker 1: of these big blonde or I think they call them
Speaker 1: buff orpingtons. When I would sit out my wife would
Speaker 1: sit out in the yard in a long chair, would
Speaker 1: jump up on our legs and just sit there, let
Speaker 1: us pet them and all that. Since then, two hundred
Speaker 1: chickens later, not a single chick, and we'll let me
Speaker 1: touch them. Now. They won't run off when I walk
Speaker 1: up because they know I'm a source for food. Usually
Speaker 1: they follow me around. I love dogs. I have away
Speaker 1: with dogs. I know how to pet dogs and approach dogs.
Speaker 1: I think I do. I've never been torn up by
Speaker 1: a dog, even mean dogs. I just don't have. You know,
Speaker 1: you see all these videos on YouTube and TikTok and
Speaker 1: Instagram of these people who find a little fallen deer
Speaker 1: and they raise it up and it lives in the
Speaker 1: house with them. There's one I think it's a TikTok
Speaker 1: I've been following, where this deer lives in the house
Speaker 1: with the dogs and the people. It sleeps on the
Speaker 1: dog beds with the dogs. It'll snuggle up with the dogs.
Speaker 1: I've always wanted to have an interaction with a creature
Speaker 1: like that, but I just never have. I never have.
Speaker 1: I have found fahons where dose will leave them in
Speaker 1: the grass in the summertime, and matter of fact, my
Speaker 1: grandson ran over one. I don't think it was hurt.
Speaker 1: We picked it up, it off to the woods. But
Speaker 1: the I think the dose will get them to get
Speaker 1: real low in the grass and they'll go to the
Speaker 1: woods and just leave them there, and then they'll come
Speaker 1: back and get them whenever the danger's gone. But I'm
Speaker 1: hoping that that mama found that deer. But I just
Speaker 1: can never develop that kind of relationship with an animal
Speaker 1: other than a dog. We've had cats before that they're
Speaker 1: kind of cool, but cats are independent. But anyway, so
Speaker 1: we throw out corn right in front of our house.
Speaker 1: The deer will come in the yard every two or
Speaker 1: three days, late in the evening right now, you know,
Speaker 1: maybe an hour or two before dark, and we'll my
Speaker 1: wife and I all sit in the living room. We've
Speaker 1: got a big window that looks out front, and we'll
Speaker 1: just watch those deer and they're really close. They're, you know,
Speaker 1: twenty or thirty forty feet away in our front yard
Speaker 1: and they're just munching on corn. Well, the other day
Speaker 1: I felt like I had a connection with an animal.
Speaker 1: Now I didn't touch it, it didn't come up to
Speaker 1: me or anything like that. But normally when those deer
Speaker 1: out there, like I'll be in my office sometimes my
Speaker 1: office is detached from my house. I'll look out and
Speaker 1: I'll see those deer and I'll stay in here just
Speaker 1: so I don't disturb them because I know my wife
Speaker 1: is watching them. More than likely, I'll wait till it
Speaker 1: gets a little darker and then I'll walk in. But
Speaker 1: generally every time I walk out, they run off. But
Speaker 1: this time there were four deer out there, two small
Speaker 1: ones and two full adult does. And one of the
Speaker 1: yearlings was munching on my wife's azalea, and one of
Speaker 1: the does, the bigger deer, came over beside her and was,
Speaker 1: I don't know, just kind of standing there beside her,
Speaker 1: like maybe keeping watch over. Probably not. I don't know
Speaker 1: the psychology of deer. But the other two when I
Speaker 1: walked outside, they ran off in the woods like they
Speaker 1: normally do, but this young deer would he just sat
Speaker 1: there and she was about forty feet from me, and
Speaker 1: I walked a little closer to it, to the edge
Speaker 1: of the driveway and stood behind my truck, and both
Speaker 1: of those deer just stood there and looked at me,
Speaker 1: and I thought maybe I had a connection with a
Speaker 1: wild animal. And those deers just stood there, and I
Speaker 1: wasn't going to go any closer because I didn't want
Speaker 1: to run them off, and I eventually just turned around,
Speaker 1: walked in the back door, and went in the house.
Speaker 1: And when I got the house, they were gone, so
Speaker 1: they must have run off not long after I turned
Speaker 1: around and headed out. But that's my animal connection story.
Speaker 1: One of those young deer. If the deer are in
Speaker 1: the front yard during the day, and again this is
Speaker 1: maybe twice a week that we see them out there,
Speaker 1: the dogs will see them and the dogs will go crazy.
Speaker 1: I let the dogs out and they run them off,
Speaker 1: just to let the dogs do what they do. And
Speaker 1: I think it's the one that was munching on that asaille. Yeah,
Speaker 1: Arnessalia is toxic to animals. I don't know. I could
Speaker 1: be wrong about that. I saw that and I thought, man,
Speaker 1: they must be hungry if they're munching on azalias. But
Speaker 1: I could be totally wrong anyway. That one deer, and
Speaker 1: I think it's this one deer, this one small one.
Speaker 1: She will and I'm saying it's a she. I don't
Speaker 1: know for sure, but all three or four of them
Speaker 1: will run off in the woods, but that one will
Speaker 1: stop and watch my dogs. Now, my dogs won't run
Speaker 1: right up to the deer. They're small dogs. They're just
Speaker 1: barking and carrying on, and it's almost like that little
Speaker 1: deer wants to maybe and I'm imagining this in my head,
Speaker 1: but it's almost like she wants to play with the dogs.
Speaker 1: I get that sense. Anyway, it's like that little deer.
Speaker 1: I have some kind of mild connection with it, and
Speaker 1: it's probably just in my head, but I love it.
Speaker 1: I love watching that little deer. That's my favorite deer
Speaker 1: in our area. And I hope she comes around some
Speaker 1: more way. That's my deer connection story. I'm not a Navajo.
Speaker 1: I'm not a Native person. I'm a pure Scots Irish
Speaker 1: European of European descent. I have no native blood running
Speaker 1: in me at all. Never had my DNA test that
Speaker 1: I might, so I'm not comparing myself to a Navajo.
Speaker 1: But maybe I don't know. Maybe I had a connection
Speaker 1: with a deer. Anyway, boring story. Just thought i'd tell
Speaker 1: you all that. Thanks again to the writer. I appreciate
Speaker 1: the Navajo man sending me that story. It was wonderful. Thanks. Okay,
Speaker 1: after this, I'm gonna put an archive story behind this.
Speaker 1: This story was written by my friend Randy. He lives
Speaker 1: in eastern Kentucky. I've seen him at the Bigfoot conferences before.
Speaker 1: He's one of these strong men, you know, the guys
Speaker 1: that rip phone books in half, and they've been big
Speaker 1: pieces of rebar and stuff. He's a very devout Christian
Speaker 1: and a hard worker. This guy's a hard worker. I
Speaker 1: think he still works his farm like a madman. But
Speaker 1: I always loved these stories from him, and I thought
Speaker 1: i'd shared again. It was posted probably three or four
Speaker 1: years ago, and I hope you guys enjoy it. My
Speaker 1: name is Randy Ritchie. I'm fifty eight years old. I'm
Speaker 1: an ordained minister and had been ministering for twenty four years.
Speaker 1: I'm a logger, farmer, and I'm a strong man, you
Speaker 1: know the kind that tears phone books into flips cars
Speaker 1: by hand and ben's steel bars, etc. While preaching the
Speaker 1: gospel along with it. I have lived on the same
Speaker 1: farm all my life, and what I'm about to tell
Speaker 1: you is the God's honest truth. I live in south
Speaker 1: central Kentucky, and all of these encounters except two were
Speaker 1: within three miles of each other. My first encounter was
Speaker 1: in nineteen seventy two when I was ten years old.
Speaker 1: My parents and I were coming home one night. We
Speaker 1: lived on a large farm, as I have all my life,
Speaker 1: we were driving down the little country gravel road that
Speaker 1: goes through our farm. I was in the back seat
Speaker 1: and my parents were up front in our car. My
Speaker 1: mother called out to my dad, you didn't see that
Speaker 1: big black thing step across the road. She said. It
Speaker 1: cleared the road in two steps. My father turned around
Speaker 1: at our shop and drove back, but it was already gone.
Speaker 1: He told my mother that she was crazy. Some years later,
Speaker 1: she told me that my grandmother had told her for
Speaker 1: years that they had seen something. From time to time.
Speaker 1: She referred to it as the old Man. Several years
Speaker 1: went by, and I grew into a teenager and then
Speaker 1: a young man. But years before that there was more
Speaker 1: to tell. My second encounter, a mile and a half
Speaker 1: behind our farm, was in an abandoned old rock quarry
Speaker 1: from the nineteen forties. My friend Mark and I one
Speaker 1: day hiked down to the old quarry with daisy bebie
Speaker 1: guns in hand. The old quarry was grown up with
Speaker 1: trees and bushes, pretty much what we would called the
Speaker 1: thicket here in south central Kentucky. The old quarry was
Speaker 1: one hundred and twenty five feet long, seventy to eighty
Speaker 1: feet wide, and sixty five feet deep. My friend and
Speaker 1: I were on the left side, about a third of
Speaker 1: the way down from the top, admiring the beauty of
Speaker 1: the wilderness, and then it happened. We heard the most
Speaker 1: god awfullest roar, which turned into a blood curdling yell
Speaker 1: that would stand the hair up on your head. And
Speaker 1: Mark said, what was that? I don't know, I replied,
Speaker 1: And then whatever made that awful sound did so again.
Speaker 1: Let's get out of here, Mark exclaimed. I wanted to
Speaker 1: see what it was. Me, being a twelve year old boy,
Speaker 1: said we can shoot it in the eye with our
Speaker 1: bb guns. Well, how stupid was that? And then it
Speaker 1: yelled again and started throwing rocks from the bottom of
Speaker 1: the old quarry. It hit the side that we were
Speaker 1: on from some distance away with rocks the size of
Speaker 1: soft balls or larger. It roared one more time, and
Speaker 1: my friend said to hell with this and took off
Speaker 1: in a flash down the side of the hill back
Speaker 1: to the holler. I took off right behind him, and
Speaker 1: we ran for three quarters of a mile before we
Speaker 1: just collapsed in a pasture field. But a large bull
Speaker 1: came down off the grassy hill right for us, so
Speaker 1: we pulled ourselves up and climbed a large tree, wondering
Speaker 1: if that would get us past the bull and the
Speaker 1: thing that ran us off from the old quarry. We
Speaker 1: finally got down and got home. No one would believe us,
Speaker 1: except my mother because she'd seen something a few years prior.
Speaker 1: We went to school the next week and told our
Speaker 1: close friend about our encounter. He would be the man
Speaker 1: who would later be the best man in my wedding,
Speaker 1: and his name was Wendell. I said, I wanted to
Speaker 1: go back down to see if I could see what
Speaker 1: it was, but I wanted someone to stay with me.
Speaker 1: Wendell said if I'd let him go, he would take
Speaker 1: his twenty gage shotgun and that he would not run. Well.
Speaker 1: Of course, I agreed. Wendell and I took a hike
Speaker 1: down the old quarry, and I decided that we would
Speaker 1: go in towards the top of the old quarry, this
Speaker 1: time about thirty feet above the opening. As we were
Speaker 1: hiking towards it, we were stopped in our tracks by
Speaker 1: the same roar that again turned into a blood curdling
Speaker 1: scream that you could feel hit you in the chest
Speaker 1: like a brick. I turned back to see Wendall's reaction
Speaker 1: he with a shotgun, was now in a crowd's position,
Speaker 1: and he was trembling. I turned back towards the sound,
Speaker 1: and here it came again. I turned back to see
Speaker 1: Wendell tearing through the briers with a shotgun in hand,
Speaker 1: obviously not wanting anything to do with whatever was roaring.
Speaker 1: And so there I was alone with my rifle in
Speaker 1: my hand, and I took out right behind him. And
Speaker 1: when we got home, he said, what in the world
Speaker 1: was that. All I could say was I don't know.
Speaker 1: So we told our neighbors. They were some of our
Speaker 1: running buddies, one Scotty, who was like a little older,
Speaker 1: and then there was me and one a little younger, Tracy.
Speaker 1: Scotty was bold and said, by God, I'll stay as
Speaker 1: long as I have a gun. So he was all
Speaker 1: in for us to take the hike back down, and
Speaker 1: my fourth encounter was about to begin. Two weeks after
Speaker 1: Wendell and I had gone in, with all three of
Speaker 1: us having guns in hand, we went back and I
Speaker 1: took the lead. I took the same path that Wendell
Speaker 1: and I took. As we closed in on the top,
Speaker 1: I was standing less than two feet from where I
Speaker 1: was standing the previous the same roar, yell, scream all
Speaker 1: over again, and I turned to see Tracy and Scottie
Speaker 1: and they were already retreating fast. In less than six
Speaker 1: weeks time, I had personally experienced something life changing. I
Speaker 1: didn't go back for years, but what I experienced in
Speaker 1: those weeks is why there is a Smith and Western
Speaker 1: forty four magnum pistol in my bedside nightstand to this day.
Speaker 1: Tyler and Justin's stories. Tyler said his brother Justin had
Speaker 1: an encounter. As he was taking the garbage to the
Speaker 1: end of the road on a dark night, something very
Speaker 1: large spooked him. He caught a glimpse across the road
Speaker 1: of something very large standing between two ponds. As he
Speaker 1: got back in the vehicle to turn the headlights on,
Speaker 1: it stood up and ran. It left the fence in
Speaker 1: two steps, and it was in the road and then
Speaker 1: it left the fence on the other side. It startled
Speaker 1: him pretty good, so he retreated back to the house
Speaker 1: very quickly. In another encounter, Justin and another man were
Speaker 1: out scouting for deer because the season would open soon.
Speaker 1: They were at the end of a hollow in a
Speaker 1: vast thicket when they came across a deer hanging from
Speaker 1: its hindquarters in the middle of nowhere. If that wasn't
Speaker 1: strange enough, its hindquarters were up to about twelve feet
Speaker 1: in a tree, putting the deer's neck at six feet
Speaker 1: above ground level, and that was too high for a
Speaker 1: coyote or most dogs to reach. The deer's neck had
Speaker 1: a large bite taken out of it. Justin and Tyler
Speaker 1: also described another encounter involving their cousin, James. So he
Speaker 1: walked to his deer stand before daylight. This is the
Speaker 1: same holler that separated our two farms. The hollow runs
Speaker 1: by the springs from the old quarry. James had just
Speaker 1: climbed into his deer stand and heard the blood curdling roar, yell, scream.
Speaker 1: He was so terrified that he didn't move for about
Speaker 1: seven or eight hours. Tyler and Justin had heard it also.
Speaker 1: Around that same time, my good friend and neighbor and
Speaker 1: god son, Cody, found a structure made of cedar trees
Speaker 1: that had been bent and broken to keep the wind
Speaker 1: and rain off of whatever had been using it. Cody
Speaker 1: had also had an encounter while frog gigging and just
Speaker 1: up from the lake one night in the holler that
Speaker 1: parallels the old quarry. Large rocks were thrown at them
Speaker 1: as they made their way up the holler. Cody's wife
Speaker 1: also had her encounter around the same time, as she
Speaker 1: was driving one night. Her sightings were very close to
Speaker 1: where my mother had her sighting some forty years earlier.
Speaker 1: The location is less than two hundred feet apart. Caitlin
Speaker 1: recalls what she saw as very large and tall. It
Speaker 1: stepped over a fence in front of her and crossed
Speaker 1: the road. It turned to look at her in the headlights,
Speaker 1: It's eyes reflecting red as it stepped across the other fence.
Speaker 1: She never took that road home again. My fifth encounter,
Speaker 1: My next episode was a few years later, when I
Speaker 1: was fourteen or fifteen. I was with a friend of mine, Donovan,
Speaker 1: who had lost his mother some years earlier and would
Speaker 1: come and stay with us for a couple of weeks
Speaker 1: at a time. He would later become our city's assistant
Speaker 1: chief of police. We were on the backside of the
Speaker 1: farm where there was a very steep hill in our woods.
Speaker 1: I was climbing the hill in my Yamaha dirt bike.
Speaker 1: Like a lot of us here in Kentucky do Donovan
Speaker 1: was standing at the top of the hill watching me
Speaker 1: climb over it, and as I pulled up to start
Speaker 1: my third ascent of the day, Donovan came running down
Speaker 1: the steep hill. As he got to me, I saw
Speaker 1: that his eyes were wide open and he was as
Speaker 1: white as a ghost. We jumped on the back of
Speaker 1: the motorcycle and he says to me, go, go go oh.
Speaker 1: I said, what is it? He said, please just go?
Speaker 1: So I tore out and when we got within sight
Speaker 1: of the house, I slowed down and stopped. He said
Speaker 1: what are you doing and encouraged me to keep going
Speaker 1: and I said, no, what is it? He said, I
Speaker 1: saw it? You saw what I said? He said it
Speaker 1: had to be what we had heard a few years earlier,
Speaker 1: so we had my attention and I said, well, what
Speaker 1: did it look like? He said it was big and
Speaker 1: black and it cleared the border fence in just one step.
Speaker 1: Fast forward a few years when we were nineteen years old,
Speaker 1: myself and my friends Mark and Robin went back with
Speaker 1: a solid agreement between all three of us that no
Speaker 1: one would run. We all had high powered rifles in hand.
Speaker 1: This was the first time that Mark had returned to
Speaker 1: the old quarry. We took the hike down and braved
Speaker 1: our way all the way to the inside of the
Speaker 1: old quarry and poised ourselves for a standoff that we
Speaker 1: might encounter. We stood our ground for four hours from
Speaker 1: two to six pm. When we retreated at dark, we
Speaker 1: had seen or heard nothing, and was the legend gone.
Speaker 1: It would cross my mind from time to time, but
Speaker 1: I saw and heard nothing for about thirty years until
Speaker 1: I was in my late forties. My neighbor, Tyler, who
Speaker 1: had lived on the next farm over, had at one
Speaker 1: point given me the honor of performing his wedding ceremony.
Speaker 1: He was over helping me unload the firewood one day
Speaker 1: when he mentioned doing some deer hunting with his family.
Speaker 1: I casually said to him, well, don't go down by
Speaker 1: the old Rock quarry without a gun. And he looked
Speaker 1: at me with a funny look on his face and said, Randy,
Speaker 1: why would you say that? While look back and said,
Speaker 1: why would you ask like that? He said, I didn't
Speaker 1: think anybody else knew. This encounter is from one of
Speaker 1: my neighbors and Christian's Strength team members. This young man
Speaker 1: is almost as big as a bigfoot He's six feet
Speaker 1: seven inches tall, weighs three hundred and eighty pounds, and
Speaker 1: wears a size sixteen shoe. Paul was walking to his
Speaker 1: favorite fishing hole one day when he heard a large
Speaker 1: stick break off to his right. He glanced over to
Speaker 1: see what he had made the noise and couldn't believe what
Speaker 1: he was seeing. He was looking at a dark figure
Speaker 1: that was crouched down, and he recalled its facial features,
Speaker 1: including heavy eyebrows and dark eyes, and it was huge.
Speaker 1: Paul kept walking, but sped up his pace to get
Speaker 1: out of the area fast. Coming back from his fishing hole,
Speaker 1: he stumbled upon a very large footprint in the wet ground.
Speaker 1: It was filled with water from the night before, but
Speaker 1: he said it was huge. It made his size sixteen
Speaker 1: look small. Paul wasted no time on his route to
Speaker 1: get back home. When I was forty nine, I was
Speaker 1: coming home one night from the gym about ten thirty.
Speaker 1: As my boxer dog, Turbo and I walked up towards
Speaker 1: the house. In the distance, I heard a distinctive, very
Speaker 1: familiar sound. I got turbos still and leaned up against
Speaker 1: my home and again heard the roar, yell scream that
Speaker 1: I'd heard so many years ago into my childhood. The
Speaker 1: hair on the back of my neck stood up, and
Speaker 1: I said to myself, it's back. I told two of
Speaker 1: my neighbors and my wife Carolyn what I heard. We
Speaker 1: all dismissed it. But the next year I turned fifty
Speaker 1: and I was diagnosed with a leaking aortic heart valve
Speaker 1: that could only be taken care of by God or
Speaker 1: a heart surgeon. So I was in my backyard, in
Speaker 1: my hammock. We live in a remote place, just a
Speaker 1: few farmhouses around. It was on Tuesday night, around eleven pm.
Speaker 1: Carolyn was already in bed. I was pouring my heart
Speaker 1: out in prayer, trying to reach the throne room of Heaven.
Speaker 1: I'm praying herd out loud, and as I'm wailing through
Speaker 1: the trees, I hear something repeatedly using something to strike
Speaker 1: a tree. I cried to remove it from my thoughts
Speaker 1: and my hearing, and I kept praying. The louder and
Speaker 1: harder I prayed, the louder and faster the wood knocking got.
Speaker 1: When I would stop, it would stop. So I said
Speaker 1: to myself, who in the world would be down in
Speaker 1: my holler next to my house? At this time of
Speaker 1: night and on a Tuesday in the middle of July.
Speaker 1: So I started putting it all together. The yelling, the
Speaker 1: rock throwing, and now the wood knocking. It can only
Speaker 1: be one thing, a si squatch of Bigfoot or whatever
Speaker 1: you call it. I still don't know what I and
Speaker 1: my friends and my neighbors have experienced, but there's something
Speaker 1: out there now. I personally have never seen it, but
Speaker 1: I know what I heard. It's big and it's real.
Speaker 1: I don't think it means us any harm, but I
Speaker 1: would not want to corner it or provoke it. Clay
Speaker 1: Story is in Halfway, Kentucky, which is in Allen County.
Speaker 1: Clay is also one of the original team members of
Speaker 1: my Christian Strongman Team. Clay is a big man. He's
Speaker 1: six foot five and he weighs two hundred and sixty pounds.
Speaker 1: He's no sissy or coward. Clay's an avid deer hunter
Speaker 1: travels all over the United States hunting big game. I
Speaker 1: would call him a professional big game hunter, and he
Speaker 1: has all the trophies to prove it. He's been hunting
Speaker 1: on one of the largest farms in Allen County. His
Speaker 1: first encounter was a vocal while he was in his
Speaker 1: deer stand overlooking a large bluff. The roar yell scream
Speaker 1: was very loud and robust. Clay says the roar was
Speaker 1: so loud that he said whatever made that sound was
Speaker 1: really large. He was startled by the intense sound, and
Speaker 1: he said to himself, what in the world is that? Clay,
Speaker 1: being the sportsman he is, went back the next year
Speaker 1: to hunt for the big trophy buck. While in his
Speaker 1: stand with a bow and an arrow in hand, he
Speaker 1: heard animals scurrying out of the large woods below the
Speaker 1: bluff he's hunting, and then the same thing he witnessed
Speaker 1: the year before, the roar, yell scream happened again. The
Speaker 1: deer came running out first, they were followed by livestock,
Speaker 1: and then birds flew out. At this time, Big Clay
Speaker 1: decided it was time to get his happy hind end
Speaker 1: down and out of the tree stand. He hurried very
Speaker 1: quickly to his truck and retreated. And Clay said, he
Speaker 1: didn't see it, but it had to be very big
Speaker 1: to make chest shaking sounds like that that he heard.
Speaker 1: Clay said, Wow, what else could it be other than
Speaker 1: a bigfoot? One day, David was out on the farm
Speaker 1: doing his farm work, and he heard a sound that
Speaker 1: was not familiar with anything he had heard before, and
Speaker 1: he had been on this farm forty plus years. Whatever
Speaker 1: it was, David said, it was very loud and had
Speaker 1: to be coming from something really big. Sess said to
Speaker 1: his dad, what in the world is that? He said,
Speaker 1: I don't know, but we're going to the house. Seth
Speaker 1: lives on a farm in Halifax, Kentucky, which is in
Speaker 1: Allen County. His farm has been in his family for
Speaker 1: three generation. The farm backs up to an even larger farm,
Speaker 1: which is three hundred acres of wilderness. While deer hunting
Speaker 1: one evening, Seth was sitting on the ground leaning against
Speaker 1: the log when he heard something take a step to
Speaker 1: his right. Seth looked over and raised his deer rifle
Speaker 1: up and looked through the scope. He saw something that
Speaker 1: was around seven feet tall. It had long arms, and
Speaker 1: it was all brown in color. While looking through his
Speaker 1: rifle scope, Seth whistled and it looked right dead at
Speaker 1: him for a few seconds, and then it just kept
Speaker 1: walking away from him. Seth said he was proud he
Speaker 1: kept walking because he didn't think his deer rifle would
Speaker 1: have taken it down. Seth and Cooper were out one
Speaker 1: night coyote hunting, trying to call up some coyotes. Now,
Speaker 1: after a while the calling, they laid down. Seth heard
Speaker 1: something coming through the woods and it was crashing through
Speaker 1: the woods and breaking down small trees and limbs. As
Speaker 1: it was coming closer and closer, they were beginning to
Speaker 1: wonder what it was. It was definitely not coyotes. It
Speaker 1: started getting closer and then it was right on top
Speaker 1: of them. Cooper said, shoot it, Seth. While laying down,
Speaker 1: Seth spun over and pulled the trigger of his twelve
Speaker 1: gay shotgun right at the sound, which was less than
Speaker 1: twenty feet away. The minute Seth shot, Cooper flicked the
Speaker 1: big light on and there was nothing there. They both said,
Speaker 1: where did it go? It was just right there. It
Speaker 1: was a very intense moment for both of them. This
Speaker 1: story comes from my neighbor that lives about a mile
Speaker 1: down the road from me, but as the crow flies
Speaker 1: less than a mile from my farm. He's lived on
Speaker 1: the farm all of his life. This is his encounter.
Speaker 1: When I was young, me and my brother and a
Speaker 1: friend that was staying the night got bored and went
Speaker 1: to the pond, as we did many times. We would
Speaker 1: gather rocks and try to sneak up on the frogs
Speaker 1: that line the banks of the pond. As anybody that
Speaker 1: grew up with a pond knows, the frogs would all
Speaker 1: jump in as soon as they knew a predator was near.
Speaker 1: The goal was to sneak up on the frogs and
Speaker 1: see if we could hit one before they all jumped in.
Speaker 1: After I'd thrown my stones, I heard something in the woods.
Speaker 1: I turned to see a hairy beast running on two
Speaker 1: legs through the forest, tearing saplings away side to side
Speaker 1: to make its way through. The breath was taken from me,
Speaker 1: and it's like everything else stood still when it was gone.
Speaker 1: I yelled that I had seen something running through the woods.
Speaker 1: No one saw it, no one believed me. I just
Speaker 1: remember dark hair. I had nightmares of werewolves for years
Speaker 1: after that. I had not been exposed to bigfoot at
Speaker 1: that time. I was, however, exposed to the monster movies
Speaker 1: of werewolves. To my young eyes and mine, that's what
Speaker 1: it was. Let me just break in and say, that
Speaker 1: could have been a dog man. If you're thinking werewolf subconsciously,
Speaker 1: maybe that's what you saw Derek. I don't know. I'm
Speaker 1: sorry to interrupt Randy's stories here. Let's go to the
Speaker 1: last story, and it is called Matt Pettigo's experience. I'm
Speaker 1: the editor and publisher of our local newspaper in Randy's
Speaker 1: hometown in Kentucky. Randy is a good friend. He's a
Speaker 1: fine man and as truthful a person as you will
Speaker 1: ever know. I'm originally from northern California, and I still
Speaker 1: have relatives in California and Oregon. In the summer of
Speaker 1: two thousand and nine, I was visiting my now late
Speaker 1: grandfather in Bend, Oregon, when I took a ride up
Speaker 1: into the nearby Cascade Mountains. At an elevation of fifty
Speaker 1: four hundred feet above sea level, between two peaks high
Speaker 1: enough to host snow year round lies Scenic Sparks Lake.
Speaker 1: It is a lake of snow melt between the peaks
Speaker 1: and it fluctuates in size. Looking for that perfect postcard
Speaker 1: landscape shot with my camera, I ventured far out onto
Speaker 1: the dry lake bed until it began to get marshy.
Speaker 1: I leapt over a small stream of clear, cold snow
Speaker 1: water draining into the main body of the lake, and
Speaker 1: I landed on a small island and into something unexpected.
Speaker 1: I weighed two hundred and sixty pounds, and I estimate,
Speaker 1: landing from a jump, that I hit the packed sandy
Speaker 1: volcanic soil with the impact of over three hundred pounds.
Speaker 1: My hiking boots sank in about an inch into the
Speaker 1: dense soil, paling in comparison to the footprint I was
Speaker 1: now seen for scale. I laid my six inch wide
Speaker 1: Panama Jack sunglasses beside it, and I snapped this photo.
Speaker 1: The print was two inches deep, at one point fourteen
Speaker 1: inches long, and more than six inches wide. Based on
Speaker 1: the soil condition and my jump, you can see my
Speaker 1: print on the left side of the tuft of grass.
Speaker 1: Whatever made this print had to weigh over five hundred pounds.
Speaker 1: What's more, whatever made the print had dug its front
Speaker 1: toes into the soil as it walked, ripping frontal soil
Speaker 1: upward and scrunching the other soil towards the center of
Speaker 1: the print as it pulled its foot upward. Thus, whatever
Speaker 1: made the print seems to have had a hinged foot,
Speaker 1: a trait often seen in gray apes. At the upper
Speaker 1: left of the print is the impression of a very
Speaker 1: large big toe. It doesn't show well in the photo,
Speaker 1: but it had dermal ridges, the mark of natural skin.
Speaker 1: I saw nothing else and I heard nothing strange, but
Speaker 1: there it was a good reason for me to head
Speaker 1: back to the car. I never knew what to make
Speaker 1: of the bigfoot mystery. Is it fact or fiction? I
Speaker 1: can say with certainty that something large, heavy, and barefoot
Speaker 1: made this track in the wiles of central Oregon. Randy
Speaker 1: and his family, friends and neighbors, and thousands of other
Speaker 1: people around the world and through the ages are seeing, hearing,
Speaker 1: and experiencing something that science can't always explain, And as
Speaker 1: Randy said in his conclusion, something is out there. Okay,
Speaker 1: just two stories in that podcast. I thought they were
Speaker 1: both fantastic, and I really appreciate the writers and thank
Speaker 1: you for listening. I really appreciate you, and we will
Speaker 1: see you guys on the next podcast. Thanks