Speaker 1: In December of nineteen sixty nine, my buddies and I
were walking back to the house after a day of hunting.
We were crossing a holler when a large animal came
out of the bush and began chasing us. Shocked and
fear and adrenaline hit us all at the same time,
and we turned and started running for our lives. Behind us,
we could hear the monster crashing through the woods on
what sounded like two feet We were a group of
twelve year old boys, scared out of our minds by
visions of that creature catching up with us and then
tearing us to pieces. We were moving as fast as
we could, but it was gaining on us. It was
fifteen yards behind us when one of my friends lost
his footing and fell, and he sliced his leg open
in the process. I had to do something. There was
no time to think or make a plan, so instinctively
I turned and fired my shotgun straight into it. That
was enough to knock it backwards, and then it turned
and ran away, and we managed to get my friend
on his feet and back to the house. We didn't
talk much about what happened, we were too shaken up.
It was the last time that any of my friends
would ever come to my house. It took a couple
of days, but my love of hunting overshadowed my fear
of monsters, and I went back out into the woods again.
When I got to the spot where I had shot
that animal, I found a blood trail, so I decided
to follow it. The thing had made it two hundred
yards and then it had died. It was lying their
face up on the ground, all seven feet of it.
I guess it weighed around five hundred pounds. It was
clearly a male, and it had a face that looked
more human than gorilla. I tried to turn it over,
but it was way too heavy, so I decided to
go back and get a camera so I could get
some pictures of it. But by the time I got there,
I thought it would be better if I didn't go
back alone, so I had to talk my brother into
going with me. That took two days, and by the
time we got back, that creature was gone. We spent
that winter tracking and trying to find more of them.
We thought there might have been a family of them
living in the area. We tracked them for nine miles,
but we never got close enough to gather any real evidence. Personally,
I think they ate the body of the dead one.
I think they always eat their dead, and that's why
we never find any bigfoot remains lying around. Growing up
in the nineteen seventies in the small town of Monroe, Louisiana,
you heard all kinds of stories about the history of
the town in that region of northeast Louisiana. For sleepy
little town nestled in the curves of the Wahtaw River,
bayous and swamps, you would never guess that it had
been a place of habitation for several cultures going back
nearly six thousand years. My grandfather and his uncles would
tell stories of things they encountered on hunting trips or
working around the family farm, or that other relatives had
experienced in the bayou and swamp country around Monroe. As
a kid, I enjoyed all their stories, even if I
didn't quite believe them, or I thought there might have
been a bit of leg pulling going on. Some of
the stories told to me growing up were from the
Spanish and later American settlers, and also from the earlier
Native American people. There were stories of giant, hairy manlike
creatures that lived in the deepest parts of the swamps
who did not tolerate trespassers, and they were beings who
could change their shapes to look like other animals. Other
stories were about people who would disappear out in those
swamps with never a trace to be found. Of course,
there were plenty of ghost stories around the Old Garden district,
and Monroe had more than its share of haunted houses.
I experienced a few things in some of those two
hundred year old homes that I can't explain, but those
stories are for another time. In late nineteen seventy five,
I had my own close encounter with a big foot
out along the Wachitaw River among those ancient Spanish moss
draped trees and waterways. My mom and I had gone
on one of the periodic camping trips that our Baptist
Church put together for our congregation in the late summer
of nineteen seventy five. This particular camping trip was to
Moon Lake, just north of Monroe. This area is adjacent
to the Black Vayou National Wildlife Refuge, and that area
has a long history of strange things happening and sightings
of strange creatures. Our church used to camp at the
lake for family weekend getaways and for some retreats. It
was an old camp but was well maintained, so the
main camp was clear and level, but surrounded by old
trees and bushes. Y'all, I'm sorry if my chickens are
being loud. I've got my door open and they're out
there raising sand I don't know. I guess they're enjoying
this warm weather. But let's carry on with the story.
On this weekend, families had starting arriving late Friday afternoon,
with the rest coming in early Saturday morning to set
up their tents and personal camp sites within the larger
camping area. As each family arrived, more of the kids
I knew would be running around and playing tiger chase
or hide and seek. As Saturday progressed, we moved to
exploring the area outside of the campgrounds, which included skipping
rocks across the slow moving river looking for arrowheads. We
didn't find anything, but we had a grand time poking
around in the soft soil, and we made a full
day of it. At dusk, everyone was called in for
dinner and visiting. While we were eating, we noticed the
dogs some families had brought for the weekend. Were tracking
around the campgrounds and occasionally whining. Since we were among
the trees more to the north and west, the setting
sun made long and broken shadows between the trunks and
hanging moss, which made it difficult to see what the
dogs were reacting to. It did not make much impression
at the time, and as soon as we finished eating,
we ran back into the woods for an evening of
hide and seek. As it got darker. After about an hour,
we went back and picked up some flashlights to continue
our game, knowing our parents would eventually call us in
for the night. And as we gathered back together and
were talking at the edge of the clearing, a small
stick was thrown into our group from the area just
outside the lantern light. We thought it was one of
the other kids, so we started trying to find them,
and we didn't see anyone, but every couple of minutes
another stick would be thrown from the trees. Eventually, we
started concentrating our flashlights in one beam and swinging them
back and forth, and we tried throwing sticks and small
rocks back into the trees to see if we could
flush whoever it was out, but we had no success.
After about ten minutes, we didn't see anything, and another
stick came flying out of the trees, but this time
it came from higher up, so we swung the flashlight
beams up about ten feet. At first we didn't see
anything but a curtain of Spanish moss hanging from a
branch close to the tree trunk, and then a face
pushed out of the moss. Our first thought was one
of the kids had climbed up the trunk, but as
we looked more close lee the face was not entirely human.
After a stunned few seconds, a body that was fully
ten to eleven feet tall and covered in shaggy brown
hair stepped out from the tree trunk and moss less
than twenty feet away. We started yelling and running back
to the camp, while whatever this was disappeared at a
loping run back to the north. The adults had come
running at our yelling, and after a hurried description, they
took off in pursuit. They caught a few glimpses as
the bigfoot ran through the undergrowth and then dove into
the river to make its escape, and when the adults
came back to camp, every family packed up and left
that night without another word being said about the events
of that night, and for several years after that event,
you would hear stories of strange happenings around Moon Lake area.
When I was pregnant with my second child, my husband
and I decided to buy a house. The lease came
up on our apartment before our new house was ready,
so rather than sign another lease, we decided to stay
with my husband's family until it was done. It was
December in Indiana and it was extremely cold. That cold
slipped into the basement of my in law's house at
night and made it very uncomfortable. One night, I decided
to turn on the oven in the little kitchen down
there to warm the place up. It didn't take long
to get it cozy, and pretty soon I was sound asleep.
Sometime in the night, I woke up to use the bathroom.
When I passed by the stairs leading up to the
main house, I looked up to see a little girl
sitting on the top step. Well, I thought that was
my sister in law, Carmen. She was about five at
that time, and she was cute as a bug. Carmen
had long brown hair and she was really soft spoken.
She was just sitting there, long light colored gown, looking forlorn.
I couldn't imagine how she'd come down to the basement
in the dark, so I told her to go back
to bed because her mother was going to be angry
with her. She looked at me and said, Mommy, please
turn off the oven or we will die. Well. I
was confused by her statement, so I guess I didn't
answer right away. She repeated herself, Mommy, please turn off
the oven, or we're gonna die. She was so soft
spoken and so gentle and very quiet, and she was
unbelievably cute sitting there, but she was really beginning to
freak me out. However, she was right, I needed to
turn off the oven. I thought it was time to
take her back to bed then, but when I went
back to the stairs, she was gone. And to be honest,
I wasn't sure what had just happened. The next morning,
I asked my mother in law why Carmen would have
come downstairs in the middle of the night like that. Well,
she gave me an odd look, and she assured me
that Carmen had never left her bed. When I asked
Carmen about it, she repeated what her mother said, and
then my mother in law told me that Carmen was
afraid of the dark and she would never come downstairs
at night. It was a month later and I gave
birth to a little girl who looks a lot like
her aunt Carmen. My mother in law is fond of
reminding me of my nocturnal visitor, so I have to ask,
did my little girl visit me while she was still
in the womb to save all of our lives? In
the late nineteen eighties, I was a single mother living
on three acres of wooded land in western Georgia with
my kids. It was a long four day weekend. I
think it was the fourth July, and my kids would
be spending it with their dad. I was off work
till Monday, so I loaded up on library books and
treats and I had at home. I kissed the kids
goodbye and curled up on the sofa to write mind
Gotta Get done Less, and then I fell asleep. I
guess I was exhausted, but it was nine o'clock when
I woke up. Well, I was starving, so I decided
to fix myself some supper before heading out to close
up the chickens for the night and check on the
dog's food and water. It wasn't long before I was
curled up in my antique bed with my books and
snacks and having a high old time. Around midnight, I
got up and made myself a cup of tea. Then
I went around and turned off all the lights and
headed back to bed. I had laid there an hour
and I heard my dog under the house give a
little growl, followed by a sort of a whimpering wine
and I paused and I listened for a minute, but
I didn't hear anything else, so I went back to reading.
Forty five minutes later, I was beginning to drift off
to sleep when a loud bang echoed through my bed
bed and shook that into the trailer. I jumped up
and looked out the front window toward the driveway, but
I didn't see anything. And then I looked out the
east side, toward the little wedge of trees that separated
my property from my neighbors. There was nothing there either,
and I grabbed a flashlight and my shotgun and I
headed outside to see what the heck had happened. I
wasn't seeing anything, but I did hear a shuffling in
that little stand of trees to the east. I looked
hard in that direction, but there just wasn't anything there
that I could see. I figured it was the Jones Boys,
a couple of neighborhood kids who liked scaring women and girls.
So I swung my shotgun in that direction and I yelled,
I ain't scared of y'all. You better get home before
you have some serious trouble coming down on your backsides.
And then I stomped back inside to wait out the
adrenaline rush so I could get some sleep. The next morning,
I went outside to have a look around. In the
light of day. There were no footprints or scuff marks
in thy hard packed Georgia clay, and I couldn't find
anything beyond some kicked up pine straw in the woods.
So I turned to head back inside, and that is
when I saw it. Being on a slight rise, the
woods gave me a bit of an elevated view of
the back corner of my trailer. At the topmost edge
of the metal overhang was a huge dent, and it
looked like someone had thrown a bowling ball up there.
I got a lighter and climbed up to get a
closer look. The dent was rounded on one side, with
a bit of a wedge on the right. I tried
hitting it with my fist. That wasn't a good idea,
and then I got a stick and tried hitting it,
but still nothing. The metal was hard and apparently had
a wooden frame under it well. I spoke with mister
Jones about his son terrorizing me and damaging my trailer,
and he said that they were both gone that weekend.
One was locked up in juvenile attention and the other
had gone to boot camp. My driveway was a deer
trail from the woods to the swamp area that was
on our side of a major county highway. Several hunters
came and asked permission to hunt my land because of that.
Always said no, but thanks for asking. There was plenty
of food and water there for deer, and they had
open access to run the swamp and wild lands on
my side of our road, with safe passage to pastures
on the south side. I didn't want to ruin that
for them. It wasn't until recently that it occurred to
me that the dog wasn't growling at deer running past
my bedroom window and down the driveway. It was always
at the same time of night. It might be different
weather conditions or moon faces or nights of the week,
but it was always the same time. I never heard
deer running by or on deer tracks, even in the mud.
I noticed that I wasn't getting as many eggs from
my hens as I should during certain times of the year,
and produce would sometimes go missing from the garden. Then
some of my chickens started going missing, and it finally
got to the point that I figured I'd be money
ahead if I got rid of the chickens and quit
planting a garden. Before I went that far, I talked
to the farmer down the road about my egg problem.
His response was to give me a strange look and
ask if I was missing produce from my garden too.
When I said that I was, he scratched his head
and he said, well, isn't that peculiar. In nineteen eighty nine,
my son came in one day with a deer skull.
He found it sitting on the corner of our porch.
It was an almost perfectly clean six point buck skull.
At the time, we thought our dog had gone out
and found a dead deer scavenge. But I ask you,
would a dog clean a skull and knot you the
bone to bits or the antlers? And why leave it
on the corner of the porch. A dog would have
left it in the middle of the yard or in
front of the door. Now I'm thinking I had some
wood boogers visiting my place, and that's why in the South,
when it gets dark out and the kids aren't inside,
grandparents will yell out the door. You better get in
here before those boogers get you. They weren't making idle
threats to scart kids. The boogers will come out of
the woods, and sometimes their visits aren't quite so peaceful.
I've never told anyone about any of this until about
a month ago, and I finally told my husband about
those long ago experiences, and thanks to you and everyone
who has shared their stories, he believes me. He even
encouraged me to share it with you through your channel
and to share some of my other experiences on my chain.
And like I said, this woman has her own YouTube channel,
and I've watched a couple of videos. I watched a
video of them burning a house. It was an old
house on their property, and instead of demolishing it, they
burn it to give the volunteer fire department some practice,
I guess on fighting a fire. But the next video
was the house was burned to the ground, so they
didn't put the fire out. So I'd have to watch
the videos closer to know what was going on there.
But she has a nice little channel and it will
be linked in the description, and I appreciate her sending
this story. This is all evidence that some people call
it anecdotal. It does make you wonder what's going on
with some of these things. Big dents in the side
of your house and deer skulls on your porch, and
neighbors and you having produce and eggs and hens going missing.
So that's you know, that's some evidence that could be
to do with Bigfoot. Who knows, But ma'am, thank you
for the for the story, and I really appreciate it.
Mm hmm