Speaker 1: I thought I would tell you about my bigfoot encounter
that happened in the winter of nineteen seventy six when
I was seventeen years old. The thing that is so
unusual is where it happened. I grew up in a
small farming community in southwest Kansas. The land in this
area is flat and almost has no trees. It is
a place that you can see for miles in every direction.
The only landscape that was different in the area was
near the Cimarron River. Down by the river, there were
a lot of cottonwood trees and a lot of shrubs
and thick undergrowth. One day, I decided to call my
cousin and see if he wanted to go out hunting
or shoot some targets for fun. It was on a
Sunday afternoon that we went out. We didn't have much
luck hunting rabbits, so we decided to go tar get
shooting instead. At the time, we were close to the river,
and I remembered seeing an old abandoned junkyard on the
banks of the river, close to the bridge that went
over the river. I couldn't park very close to the
junkyard because I was so close to the end of
the bridge, and it wasn't safe to park there, so
we decided to park on the other side of the
river and walk across to the junkyard. Now I have
to explain that the river most of the time was dry.
The only time it would run is if there was
a big flood further upstream from us. Once we got
to the other side, I parked my dad's pickup truck
and we got ready to go shoot some bottles and cans.
And there was an old washing machine that had to
have been thrown away and we wanted to shoot it
it too. I got out of the pickup truck and
started to load my twenty two pump rifle. All of
a sudden I heard something I had never heard before.
I heard something walking on two feet like a man,
but it was a lot bigger and heavier. The thing
that amazed me about this sound it was coming from
downstream from us and on the other side of the river.
It must have been close to a half mile away,
but I could hear it walking from that far. Every
time it took a step, it sounded like it was
crushing things under its weight. Whatever it was, it was
really big and powerful, and when I heard it. I
looked over to the other side of the pickup and
I asked my cousin, did you hear that. He said,
he heard something, but it was probably somebody's bull that
got loose, and it was looking for some cows in
the woods. Well, I thought to myself, well, maybe he's right.
So I shrugged it off and I kept loading my rifle.
By the time I got finished loading, the walking sound
had stopped. I didn't hear any more sound, so my
cousin and I started walking across the dry river bed.
When we got about halfway across the river, my cousin
saw a few beer cans someone had thrown out of
their car, and at this time we were almost directly
under the bridge. My cousin said, Hey, there's some cans
over there. Let's stop and shoot them for a minute,
and so we did. Then my cousin was shooting at
the cans, and all of a sudden he stopped and
looked at the other side of the river. Well, I
was watching the cans as he shot, so I didn't
see what he saw. I asked him what he saw,
and he told me that he saw something really big
and dark colored looking at us from behind. Some tall bushes. Well,
this kind of scared me, and I said maybe we
should go back to the pickup truck and go home.
But my cousin was determined to get to that junkyard
so that we could start to walk toward the other
side of the river. The brush on the other side
of the river was very thick and tall, and you
couldn't see more than twenty feet ahead of you. We
were getting close to the river bank when all of
a sudden, a giant branch out of a tree came
crashing down. Well, this scared my cousin and I half
to death. The branch was so big the only thing
that could have torn it down was a piece of
heavy equipment like a tractor with a big chain. It
was really unbelievable. My cousin and I slowly backed away.
He wanted to shoot in there blindly, but I stopped him,
and I said that our twenty two rifle would just
make it mad if we shot at it, and it
might come out and kill us. So we backed off
as quickly as we could, and when we had backed
up about fifty yards, the bigfoot or whatever it was,
started running away from us through the thick trees and
a heavy brush. Well, I was happy it ran away
from us, but I was amazed by the speed and power,
because it sounded like a bulldozer going through the brush.
It was knocking branches out of the trees and crushing
anything in its way. Not only was it powerful, but
it was unbelievably fast. It was running through the brush
as fast as a race horse. And when my cousin
and I heard that, we turned and ran back across
the river, got in my dad's pickup, and we tore
out of there. Cam This scared me so bad that
I stayed away from that river for twenty years, and
to this day, I will only drive by it, but
I never get out. Thank you for letting me write
my encounter. I'm sorry I'm not a better writer. I
hope you can make sense out of what I wrote.
Thank you for being a good Christian and a fellow
brother in Christ. You can use my name. It's Nolan.
And then he got thank you, Nolan. And then he
followed up with another email and he wrote this, I
wrote a little bit earlier, and if I got to
mention a few things about my encounter. Number one, I
did not smell anything that smelled bad. Maybe the wind
was in the wrong direction to catch the scent. I
think catching the scent would have let us know that
something was wrong. Number two, I don't remember hearing anything
before the branch was wrapped out of the tree. I
think when Bigfoot wants to, he can be very quiet
when he's sneaking up on someone or on a deer
or rabbits or whatever. That's what makes him real scary
to me, also a great hunter. Well that's about all
I had to add to my story. Thanks Nolan, Well, Nolan,
thanks for the story. This was back in let's see,
nineteen seventy six. That's a long time ago. That's when
kids would really ride around in trucks. They'd be thirteen
or fourteen years old, ride around in trucks and shooting
cans and snakes and turtles with twenty twos. Of course,
I don't recommend shooting wildlife with twenty twos, but that's
what kids did. They just rode around and shot rifles
off of bridges and stuff. Heck, I like doing that
as an adult. So the story was a little nostalgic
to me, but it's a great encounter story. Olan. Thank
you for sending it. I know we all enjoyed it.
And it happened in southwest Kansas, of all places. Can
you believe that? Thank you, Nolan. Here's a pretty good
story from South Mississippi. I think you guys will appreciate
this one. My story begins when I was eight years old.
I'm forty now, and I grew up in deep southern Mississippi.
And that's all I'm really willing to say about the location.
My mom, dad, and two sisters and I lived on
my grandparents' property where my grandfather had cattle. We lived
towards the front of the property, and my grandparents lived
a way in the back. The road dead ended at
their brick house, where my grandmother had at least one
hundred azalea bushes out front. I don't recall the exact year,
but I do recall it with spring because the azaleas
were in full bloom. It was a beautiful sight to
come around the bend in the road to see my
grandmother's azaleas and all their My grandparents had several businesses,
so they were always gone. Living in the country and
thirty miles from the nearest store, my mother would often
find it easier to send me down to their house
to raid the cupboards for a missing items she might
need than to drive into town. It was a walk
I made a thousand times, and one I loved, especially
in the spring. Sadly, that day my opinion would change forever.
I don't remember the item my mother had sent me
to retrieve, but I was eager to get out of
the house. I couldn't wait to see all those azalea bushes,
so I took off down the road, completely unaware of
what was in store. When I got to the first straightaway,
I caught movement to my right, just inside the woods.
I was no stranger to those woods. I knew them
like the back of my hand. I got to know
the woods through one hundred imaginary deer hunts and squirrel
hunts with my Daisy pellet rifle. So even though the
movement stopped me dead in my tracks, I wasn't afraid.
I thought it was one of my grandfather's cows that
had gone out of its pasture. It had its back
to me, so all I really saw was something big
and red, reddish brown in color. Just as I began
to resign myself to the thought of having to wrangle
the wayward cow. It stood up on two legs. It
stepped over a five strand barbed wire fence like it
was nothing. My mind was screaming that it was a bear.
Even the thought of being a bear was enough to
scare me to death. And I just stood there in
shock or amazement or fear. I can't say now. I
just know I stood there for what felt like minutes,
but I'm certain was only seconds. At some point I
snapped out of it and turned to run as fast
as I could back to my house. There was no
way I was coming back through these woods with that
big thing out there. Even as I turned to run,
my curiosity got the best of me, and I couldn't
resist looking back. The monstrous thing was staring at me,
and it was huge. It was a huge figure with
its hands resting on the top strand of the barbed wire.
I didn't want to see its face, so I made
tracks for home. I got back to the house, where
I'm sure Mom was expecting me to have whatever items
she needed from Grandma's kitchen. I didn't give her time
to ask. Out of breath and hands on my knees
and gasping for air, all I could say was, there's
a bear down there. Mom. Mom said that I must
have been imagining things. She insisted that I get back
down there and get what she needed. We do not
have bears in these woods, she said. I couldn't bring
myself to tell her or anyone else that what I
saw really wasn't a bear, and I didn't want to
be laughed at. Now I was pretty darn sure my
mom was right. There weren't any bears in those woods.
I refused to walk back to Grandma's house, so Mom
finally agreed to drive me. I showed her where I
saw it, but of course it was gone. I never
told anyone except my mom because I was certain i'd
be laughed at. As time went on, though, I think
Mom began to believe that I saw something that day.
Before that day, I was never one to stay inside.
Suddenly I was perfectly fine with being indoors, and she
would ask me to describe it to her. So I did.
And back then I didn't know anything about bigfoot. The
old timers would talk about buggers, but I never really
put all that together until recently. Years passed and I
got into my thirties, and by then I had decided
that one incident wasn't going to keep me out of
the woods. I had gained permission to hunt a prime
track of woods that were perfect for getting a good buck.
I took my younger brother and stepbrother along with me,
and I sent them to a good box stand where
they could hunt together while I took off with my
climber for the deep woods. There was a spot where
I knew the big ones would be. I was walking
to this perfect spot and the deeper end of the woods,
I got the more of a creepy feeling I got
about the place. It was like I was being watched.
I started hearing noises in the bush when I walked,
but it stopped when I stopped. Now, I told myself
it was just me being rattled by being so deep
in the woods, until I started climbing up the perfect
pine tree and my old man climber and started getting
rocks thrown at me. I yelled out that whoever was
throwing the rocks was on private property, but dead silence
was my only answer at first, and then the god
awfless scream I've ever heard in my life came belting
out of the woods. It felt like it vibrated the
true and it shook me to my core. I'm really
not gonna lie about it. I climbed down out of
that tree and got back to my truck as fast
as I could, leaving my old man climber right where
I'm sure it still hangs today. I threw open the
truck door, jumped inside, and cranked her up, and I
was about to tear out of there when I remembered
my brother and step brother. Oh well, I thought it'll
be dark soon enough and they'll come out. And it
wasn't long before I heard footsteps coming up to the
side of the truck. I was looking at my phone
and I assumed it was my two brothers, and I
never bothered looking up. One of them jumped into the
back of the truck, and I thought, yep, that's got
to be my step brother. He's six foot four tall
and easily weighs three hundred pounds. I couldn't imagine anything
else that could rock the truck like that. After a bit,
when there was no noise, no truck shaking, and only
pure silence, I opened the door to see what was
going on, and that's when I salt their flashlight coming
up the road. What did you guys forget? I called, Well,
they looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, huh.
I told them that they'd come to the truck and
put something in the back, and now they were walking
up the road, so I figured they must have forgotten
something and gone back to get it. They said no,
that they were just now coming out of the woods.
For the first time, I could tell that they were
telling the truth, and I kept hoping they'd burst out
laughing at any moment, but they never did. They got
in the truck and we left. I have not been
back to those woods, and I've spent a lot of
time mulling over these events. What did I see in
the woods that day on my way to my grandmother's
And what in this world could have screened at me
in the woods or made my truck rock like that.
I'm content to believe that whatever it was did not
want me there for whatever reason, and I'm happy to oblige.
Oh dude, that's a good story. South missus Sippy gets
a lot of these stories. Really, the whole state does,
and I don't Mississippi Alabama. Here's the point. These things
apparently are everywhere. There's some form of these creatures all
over the United States. The only place I haven't heard
of encounters like this, and I'm just thinking off the
top of my head is the Great Plains States, you know,
the middle of the United States where the Great Grass
Plains are, think a little big horn that type of area,
because there's no cover, there's no place for them to go,
and those you know, those are just just grasslands, is
what they are. So I don't recall having a story
from there, but in any place that's wooded, especially in
the southeast or the East, or the Pacific Northwest, not
necessarily the desert, although Arizona has a few with the
mogion thing. Anyway, I'm just I'm just talking out loud.
I don't know what I'm talking about, but all these
thoughts come to my head and just I don't know,
they've just come out of my mouth. But I'm just
thinking about when was the last time that I got
a story from those Great Plains or like the deserts
of southern California, for example. But anyway, this is a
great story, and I really appreciate the man riding in.
I've had it for a long time and i've been
anxious to get it out, so there you go.