Speaker 1: After sixty eight years of running through the hills, hunting
and hiking and exploring the back roads of Oregon with
my dad, I was skeptical about the existence of bigfoot.
Then in July twenty and nineteen, I had my first encounter,
and it was not exactly a friendly one. When I
graduated from high school, I enlisted. I ended up spending
a total of twenty seven years in the Navy, the Army,
and the Army Reserves. What After getting back home and
a brief break, I returned to my civilian job as
a licensed practical nurse working for our local VA medical center.
Once I settled back down, I resumed my explorations of
the back country up until two thousand and seven, and
then I had a stroke. The things we were those
two overseas had started to get the better of me.
With my background in the outdoors, you could say that
I know just about every big animal that roams our
forests and hills and mountains fairly well. That was true
until the summer of two thousand and nineteen, when something
happened to me that changed my life. In two thousand
and nineteen, my big timecat became ill and passed away
as it had been our practice since the nineteen sixties.
I took him to be buried in the place where
we buried the rest of our pets over the years.
The pet cemetery is located on the shores of a
spring fed fire helipad, a place that firefighting choppers can
fill their water buckets. The hill overlooking the pond is
covered with beautiful trees and a mixed understory of brush.
After a stop at the quarry to pick up some
large rocks to cover a new grave, I drove up
to the pond and pulled on to the trees where
I had been burying my cats as they aged and
passed away. Our tomcat was named Thomas Chatting Yeager or
Thomas the shadow Hunter in the English. Thomas got extremely sick,
and no matter what we tried to do for him,
he just kept getting worse. It was as if his
body was eating him alive. I finally could not handle
watching him get sicker by the day, and at the
ripe old age of five, I had the vet put
him to sleep while I cradled him in my arms.
I took him home, where I fixed him a box
for a coffin and wrapped him in his favorite little towel,
and then I drove him up to lay him to
rest next to his friends, Tiger Too and Shadow. It
took a while for me to dig the small grave.
It was hot and it was dry, and I was
having difficulty breathing that day, we were having the driest
year for some time. I was finishing up burying Thomas
when I heard small branches breaking, as if something big
and heavy had stepped on them. About that time, the
breeze changed direction and I caught a musky scent. I
thought maybe a bear was circling behind me, so I
drew my pistol and I chambered around, and when I did,
all hades broke loose. There was a loud huff, and
something took off stomping through the brush. A bear can't stomp,
neither can a big cat. As the creature began stomping
and crashing through the brush behind me, it stayed just
out of sight. When it was across the pond, it
pushed a twenty foot tall snag tree over. Whatever this
thing was. It continued grunting and huffing and stomping its feet,
and the sound resonated like it was hitting a drum.
I finished up and I was gathering my tools when
whatever this thing was through a big rock across the pond.
I didn't see where it came from, but I got
wet from the water and the mud that it splashed
near the bank. This rock was the size of a watermelon.
And I threw my tools into my pickup and I
got in and started to drive out of there. As
I made it to the road, an eight foot long
and nearly four inch thick branch landed in the bed
of my pickup truck. Now I really wanted to get
out of there. I had two more intersections to make
before I was on the main road out. I made
that first turn without anything else being thrown at me,
and I was approaching a tight spot where the brush
was thick and the road was marshy. When I got
to the type spot, a large rock gouged into the
hood of my car, came crashing through the windshield, and
finally landed on the front passenger seat. This rock was
later weighed in at eighty pounds. I managed to get
out of there and home without any further contact. The
branch showed that it had been work by hand. One
end looked to have been sharpened by rubbing against an
abrasive rock. When I got home, I went to see
my insurance agent about getting my windshield and hood replaced
or repaired, and I had to share what happened with him. Well,
they replaced both the windshield and the hood, and the
adjuster rolled it up as if I had hit a
large animal. Well, I went back up there to check
on the graves of my pets and to plant some
wildflower seeds nearby, and when I got there, I found
a large flat piece of river washed rock sitting on
top of Thomas's grave. The nearest place to find such
rocks is nearly five miles away as the crow flies. Well.
I went ahead and planted the seeds and the bulbs,
using the water from the pond to moisten the ground,
and then I headed back out. I reached that same
tight spot in the road going out, and another rock
hit my windshield. This time it took a two inch
divot from the windshield on the passenger side. I have
not been back up there since, nor have I heard
any stories coming from the many hunters and loggers who
hunt that area. I can't say that I'm a complete
believer but at least I now believe that there are
some very big and strong creatures living somewhere in those hills.
Or maybe they were just passing through. I'm not sure.
Maybe they were angry because I was near the only
water source in the area. There are many what ifs
on this subject. I never saw the creature during this encounter.
I did smell him, I did hear him, and I
was on the receiving end of its anger. I don't
believe these creatures are all that friendly, and I think
they can be extremely dangerous. After my stroke, I have
had some mobility issues. When I'm up in those hills
indulging in my hobby of nature photography, I go fully loaded.
I may be in my seventies now, but I will
not be run out of the mountains I grew up
running around in with my dad by man or beast.
I will be making a trip up there this winter
to check on things, maybe plant a few more bulbs
and wildflower seeds. Take care and be safe and stay healthy.
As for those who do not believe what I have
related here, all I have to say is I was
there and you were not. This is signed Shelley of
the Pacific Northwest Shelley. That's a great story. I really
appreciate it. Spend a lot of time in the military,
got out, had a stroke, and then you deal with
a bigfoot while you're burying a pet. Oh man. Terrible luck,
terrible luck. But I hope things are going good now.
And I love your attitude at seventy when you say
you ain't being run out of those woods, no way.
I agree with you. Appreciate you sending the story. Thanks, Hey,
thanks for clicking on the video or the podcast and
whatever app you're using. I really appreciate it. Two quick announcements. One,
I've got a friend of mine whose father passed away recently.
The man was I believe in his late seventies, maybe
early eighties. He had two Border colligues, two female Border
colleagues that are about four years old. His widow, his
wife who he left behind after death, she can't keep
up with these dogs. He was able to keep up
with them, and he loved Border colleagues, and these are
good dogs. I'm gonna try to put a picture of
them in the video here so you can get an
idea of what they look like. But he's wanting to
find a good home for these border collies. So if
you are interested in a couple of free border collies,
send me an email, and I don't know, put put free,
put border collies or colleagues in the subject line, so
it'll catch my eye and I'll put you in touch
with the owner's son, who is trying to find a
new home to get the responsibility of these dogs off
of his mother. So that's the first thing I wanted
to announce. Second is Today is July twenty four, twenty
twenty five. Tomorrow night, I'm going to Gatlinburg Saturday, the
twenty six, I will be at the Smoky Mountain Bigfoot
Conference in Gatlinburg. I'll have a little booth there and
I'm supposed to speak at one o'clock, not really speak,
but kind a host of storytelling hour for people to
stand up and give their own experiences. And I talk
to the organizers. They don't I don't know if they
have anybody lined up or I probably don't, so we'll
ask for hands and if they're no hands, go up,
which is likely to happen. I'm going to tell a
couple of stories. I guess. I don't know. I'm not
a real good public speaker at all, so I'll give
it a whirl. I ain't scared to do it, but
I'm just telling you ahead of time. I'm not very
good at it. So if I stumble on my words
or half of what I say makes no sense, just
forgive me. Give me some grace on that. So, if
you can make it out to the Smoky Mountain Bigfoot
Conference in Gatlinburg this Saturday, July twenty six, I think
it goes from nine nine in the morning until six
in the evening, come on out, love to see you,
and my oldest son's coming with me. I don't have
hardly anything to sell. I've got some really good books.
I've got about twenty books that a friend had written
and sent to me. Matter of fact, if I have
to talk take up time in my hour on stage,
I may read a couple of stories from his book,
and I got stickers to give away. I think I've
got some key chains left from the last time we
went there. Anyway, the point of me going to start
to sell you stuff and make money, but the YETI
brother sent me some soap to sell because I know
people enjoy the soap. Anyway, I'm just rambling on. I
want to let you know I'm going to be there,
and if you can be there, come on by. I'll
tell you a story. It's we used We used to
goose hunt up in western Kentucky and southern Illinois, and
I goose hunted one year with the UH, a former
governor of the state. I can't remember his name, but
I knew I know he was a governor. I didn't
live in Kentucky at the time, so I didn't know
who the governor was, but I met him, hunted with him.
Went back to Western Kentucky four years later, walked in
the clubhouse way before daylight, and that governor was there,
and he walked right up to me and said, cam,
how you doing. My friend? Now, it's a politician. He
didn't know me from Adam, but he remembered my name
from four years ago. I'm sitting in a duck bline
with him for about eight or ten hours one day.
That's amazing. You could tell me your name right now
and fifteen seconds later, I forget it. I don't have
that ability. I probably should develop it, but it's sixty
three years old. I'm probably it's getting kind of hopeless
that I'm going to develop that ability. So anyway, the
point is, if I've met you before and I don't
remember your name, don't take offense to it. Just remind me.
It'll jog my memory. But I'd love to see y'all
out at the Smoky Mountain Bigfoot Conference this Saturday, July
twenty six. Pretty sure you can buy tickets online. Gatlinburg
is a great place to go, So come for the
weekend or come for just the day, doesn't matter. All right,
let's move on with the podcast. Thanks for indulging all
those announcements. All right, here we go. In the year
two thousand and one, my boys played on the same
little league team with the girl who lived next door.
They played for the Pirates. The coach of the Pirates
was a wonderful man, along with his wife who always
provided snacks to the kids after the game. His dad
was also involved with the team. He kept the score
and kept the kids in line in the dugout. The
mother of the little girl next door and I would
always sit together on the bottom row of the bleachers.
This particular may day started out as usual. I got
the kids off the bus, did their homework, and I
met my neighbor at the bleachers for the game. We
got ourselves situated in the stands when we noticed the
coach's dad walking our way. He had his green windbreaker
and his pirates had on, with his clipboard in his hand,
looking like he was ready to get the game underway. Hello,
mister Inn, how are you, I greeted him, but mister
N walked by without even making eye contact. I kind
of shrugged it off, and my neighbor said, he looks
like he's in a mood today. He probably didn't hear you.
A few minutes later, the coach went to the dugout
and got the kid's attention. He told them to sit
down and that he had a very important announcement. He
turned to the bleachers with tears in his eyes. I'd
like you all to know that my dad passed away
in his sleep last night. This game is for mister N.
Let's win this, he said to the kids, riling them up.
My neighbor and I stared at each other, both of
us puzzled. We did just see him, didn't we, I
asked her. She sat there with her eyes wide and
her mouth hanging open, and when she could finally speak,
she said, yes, we just saw him. Clear as day. Okay,
well that was a h That was a little ambiguous, sir.
That's not the word. Hard to figure out whatever the
word is for that, but I think I get it.
It's a ghost story. It's one of those stories that
just kind of makes you think very good. Thanks to
the writer for sending it. My husband and I have
had many dogs over the years, and we have loved
all of them. In twenty sixteen, we got a husky
German shepherd puppy that was thirty three percent wolf. She
was a wonderful puppy from the very first day. She
was easy to housebreak, and she was smart. She never
met a person she didn't like. Her name was Luna.
She would take walks up our road with my husband Roger,
and people would stop and talk to her and pet her.
Roger taught her to get out of the road when
a car was passing. She loved kids, and she loved
riding in a car, and sometimes we would take her
to McDonald's to get her a hamburger. We would go
outside each night she and our other dog, Gypsy. They'd
get out of the yard and run the hills from
time to time. Eventually we put a shot collar on
them to keep them in the yard. They didn't get
out much, but when they did it was because the
fence was down or their collar batteries needed changing. We
were watching them one day and I saw Luna go
through the fence. Gypsy couldn't figure out how to get through,
so Luna reached through and grabbed her collar in her
mouth and she pulled her through. One day, my husband
and I got food poisoning and we didn't know the
fence was down. And when I was feeling a little better,
I checked outside for our dogs and saw they had
gotten out. We knew if Luna heard our vehicle, she
would come running for a ride, so I drove around
and searched, but I couldn't find her anywhere. After three days,
Gypsy came running through the gate and ran under the porch,
scared to death. We knew something bad that happened to
them because she hid under the porch for three days.
We kept waiting on Luna, but she never showed up.
I put up signs and all the stores around us
showing her picture and where she was lost. I posted
her on ten or more sites on the internet too,
and had several leads that unfortunately led nowhere. She was
in heat when she disappeared. We were going to breed
her one time before having her fixed, but we never
got to. My husband thinks someone may have shot her.
I think someone took her and dropped her far enough
away that she couldn't find her way home. It's been
four years now and I still post once in a
while and I look everywhere on the off chance that
I see her. It's terrible not knowing. I hope that
if someone has her there, good to her. She was
such a loving dog and we still miss her. We
were her pack, and we knew that she loved us too.
You can use my name if you want. Who knows.
Maybe someone will hear and respond and we will finally know.
And she signs Debbie Hankins. Uh, I'm trying to find
If she says where they live, No, I don't see it.
If you guys heard it in the story, then you know.
But this is a tough, tough, tough thing to go through.
Our dogs kind of run wild out in this area,
but they stay close. We only have little dogs left.
We used to have big dogs. Well, we have one
big dog left, but my other two big dogs they
stuck around. There was really no other place for them
to go to eat, so they just kind of stuck around.
But man, if my lab or my little pit bull
that had passed on now had gotten out and run away,
I don't know. Anyway, I don't want to tell stories
about me. I'm just kind of comparing the way I
would feel to her. Let's go talking about my dogs
and concentrating on her dog. This is a horrible thing
to go through, and you spend the rest of your
life wondering where that dog went, what happened to it,
And you know, sometimes we never know. Maybe she'll show up.
Stranger things have happened with dogs. I hope they do.
There's a good story, is a good true story. No
reason to doubt this, like some of the Bigfoot stories.
But thank you Debbie for sending this. I really appreciate it,
and I hope you find your dog. I have always
believed in Bigfoot, but I also believe that it lived
far away from me. Recent incidents have led me to
think differently. I have a hunting camp four hours north
of Toronto now. I've been going there for forty years now,
and I've been hunting there for twenty five. I've seen
everything that the bush has to offer for game and tracks,
or so I thought. Last fall, while moose hunting, my
brothers and I were sitting on a large beaver pond
close to our camp. We were hanging out watching the
sun go down and we were just having a talk.
When it was almost sundown, we heard a loud, screaming roar.
It lasted ten seconds. Thirty seconds later it repeated. This
happened for a full ten minutes. We talked about what
it could be, but none of us could explain it. Later,
I found a scream online that sounded like it. It
was a recording from northern Ontario in Sue Lookout in
the spring of twenty twenty. There's a trail in our
camp that does a fun four mile loop. It was
mostly muddy and swampy and full of tree litter from
a long winter. There are no year round homes in
this area, only cabins and hunt camps. To ride this trail,
we had to winch many trees off of it and
sometimes cut them to do so. At the halfway point,
we came across two sets of bipedal tracks that went
for fifteen yards in the melting snow. I joked and
said there were bigfoot tracks, but I couldn't get them
out of my mind all day. By that night I
was obsessed. Why were there giant bi beetle tracks that
far back in the bush. Who would have climbed over
all those trees in snow shoes? It ate me up
all night, and by morning I had to go back
and see for myself. When my family and I found
them the next day, I measured them against my own
foot and found that they were nearly an inch longer
than my size eleven hunting boots. The strides were unusually
long too. I was able to mimic the step, but
only very awkwardly. At three point thirty am, strange things
started happening. There was no wind and the sky was cloudy,
making for a dark, moonless night. To access the barbecue
on our porch, you have to either scale the half
wall five feet off the ground or come through the
screen door. The barbecue moved, waking all of us up
from a deep sleep. As we sat there listening, we
heard it move again. We kept listening, and then everything
went quiet. A couple of minutes later, it moved again.
In the past, i've experienced when a bear miss us
with our barbecue and it will clumsily knock it over.
We didn't have any guns with us this time of
the year, but there was an led night lamp on
the table for nighttime emergencies, so I turned it on,
but from my bed it caused a reflection on the
window and I couldn't see through. We were all freaked
out from talking about Bigfoot before bed, and none of
us was brave enough to leave our bunks to check
it out. But we settled into the stillness again, and
to my horror, my young son said that he saw
a large man looking in the window. He said he
must have a black hoodie on, because all he could
see was the large outline of its shape and the
lighter color of its face. My son said he looked
inside the cabin for a minute and then he walked
out of view. Well, that couldn't be. There was no
one for miles. A few minutes later, we heard scratching
noises under the cabin. If I had to describe it,
it sounded like fingernails scratching on a floor joist. Well.
This happened about every three or four minutes for the
next hour and a half and finally at four point
thirty am, it all stopped. By daylight, we all had
to pee, and thankfully the sun had come up. We
were all scared to leave the camp at first. After
opening the door, I immediately saw a strange track in
the driveway. It was right behind my pickup. My dog
went straight to it and I pushed him away to investigate.
It was a large, barefoot track. I could see the
five imprinted toes, and when I looked closer, I could
see it was actually three different footprints, all crossing each other,
one large, one medium, and one small. Well, this seemed
like a sign, as these tracks were right outside the door.
We went to where my son had seen the man standing,
and sure enough we saw tow prints there too. I
asked my son to go to his bunk and tell
me what the height of it was. Using my dog's
ball throwing a launcher, I held it above my head
to try to figure out the height of whatever this
was at the window at full extension. My son said stop,
that was where he could see the black eyes. This
put the creature at nine feet tall. Twenty four hours before,
my wife was a non believer, but that night changed
her mind the barbecue had indeed been moved. For me
to reach the barbecue over the half wall was nearly impossible.
I would have had to be another two feet taller
to be able to grab on to it. Well, we
stayed away from that trail that day in hopes that
we wouldn't get another visit. Luckily, the next night was
without incident. Oh man, that's a scary night. The scariest
part is that thing crawling under your cabin and you
can hear it under their clawing at the floor joist
probably moving around grabbing floor joyce and pulling itself along.
Whoo man. And you can't run because if you run,
it's dark outside. You can't see anything. If there's something
aggressive out there, it's gonna catch you. So you just
have to sit there and wait it out. It's like
the classic cabin in the woods story. I love this story,
and I'm glad everything's okay. Appreciate the writer for sending it.
Thank you very much. All right, here's another dog story.
Hope you guys like this. This is a pretty encouraging story.
The writer says, I was eighteen years old. I was
naive and inexperienced in the ways of the world. I
had just graduated high school and left home to move
in with my boyfriend in the south side of San Jose, California.
I had a nineteen seventies model Toyota Silica that was
very worn out but still road worthy, and I had
bought it for six hundred and fifty dollars that I
earned at my after school job. And I loved that car,
and I was very proud of my new wheels. After
I drove it for a few weeks, my ignition switch
went out, but my greaser boyfriend had an old one
laying around, so he wired it up and it dangled
down below the steering wheel. It worked, and my car
was on the road again. My passenger side window was
broken and it didn't roll up, but it was summer,
so I didn't care well. One Friday night, my boyfriend
and our group of friends were partying in our studio apartment.
Every one had gotten pretty drunk, but me. I wasn't
much of a drinker even then, and that night I
was fairly sober. I think it was around one am.
The group decided that someone needed to go to the
seven eleven for some munchies, so I volunteered because I
was the only sober one in the group and I
could drive, so off all went. I got into my
car and I was fumbling with my awkward ignition switch
to start the car went. To my surprise, a black,
fluffy chiwd dog jumped into my car through my open
passenger side window. I had never seen this dog before
in the neighborhood, but it was friendly and it let
me pet it. I decided I wanted to get it
out of my car because I was certainly not gonna
kidnap my neighbor's dog at one am, so I got
out of the car and opened the door and tried
to get it to exit. This dog refused, so I
went so far as to grab it by its fluffy
fur that had no collar and pull it out. This
dog held its ground, digging in so hard that I
finally gave up and decided that it was going to
ride with me to the store. I went to the store,
and I went in and bought some snacks that my
people had asked for. Everything was uneventful, and I left
the store when a beat up old car with four
men in it pulled up next to me. The rough
and dangerous looking men got out of the car. As
I was getting into mind, two of them pulled out
pistols and went into the store, and the other two
came toward me, one on either side of my car.
I realized that I was in terrible danger and frantically
fumbling with my dangling ignition switch to get my car
started so I could get out of there. The black
child dog on my passenger seat transformed into a savage
beast in an instant. He jumped from side to side
of my front seat, barking and growling so fiercely that
the men leapt away from my open windows. I was
able to get the car started, and I peeled out
of there as fast as I could. I was shaking
when I got home, but I hugged that dog because
I knew it really was an angel that had just
saved me. I ran inside and I grabbed it some
meat scraps, and I gave him a meal. And he
still refused to leave my car, so I just let
him stay in there. I thought he would jump out
the open window when he was ready. In the morning,
he was gone. I looked for him in the neighborhood,
but I never saw that dog again. I didn't own
a dog at that time, but one showed up just
in time to protect me anyway from a horrible fate.
God works in mysterious ways, and it's no mistake that
that dog and God are the same words, spelled differently.
I'm now fifty one years old and I have four dogs,
and I have lots of other stories about the importance
of dogs. I love your podcast, and I have seen
it bigfoot, so I am a knower. My encounter was
not very dramatic, so I haven't bothered to share it.
But I did see a bigfoot in broad daylight picking
berries in the woods. I thought it was a hippie
because I live in Humboldt County, but I soon realized
it was way too hairy even for most unkempt hippies.
Thanks for telling our stories. I really enjoy your channel.
Oh that was a great dog story and a little
bigfoot encounter thrown in for good measure. But dogs will
do that first. I would say that was an angel dog.
When those dogs come along and they just help you
out of the middle of nowhere, then they just vanish.
I have no doubt God sends those dogs to help
us every once in a while, and sometimes they just
stick around. Sometimes they stay, but sometimes he sends them
to other places and other people to help. That's what
I think. Who knows what the truth is, but this
was a great dog story. I love these dog stories.
If you guys have it an I've got several. I've
got I'm looking at about six here in my list.
One of them is a fictional story, but the writer
told me it's based on a true story. I'm gonna
do that in a week or two. But I'm gonna
drop these dog stories in here and there. I asked
for them. I love them, and I've got enough to
have a little bit of a series going. So we're
gonna start doing those and dropping those in podcasts. So
thank you to this writer, both writers in this podcast
for the dog stories. And we've got more coming, so
thank you guys. Okay, listen in the regular part of
this podcast, up with a Bigfoot story, and then we're
gonna have some archives after this. So this is a
pretty good one. This is in North Alabama story that
I think you guys are gonna like. It was December
of nineteen ninety six in northwest Alabama, and I had
gotten off work early, as I often did. I decided
to go deer hunting on some family property before dark.
I had a tree stand set up that I left
for the season, as there was now for anyone else
out in my spot but me. I parked the truck
at my uncle's house and began to walk in and
I went down the hill, crossed a small creek, and
made my way to an old logging road that hadn't
been used for several years. This road was on the
side of the hill that followed the creek all the
way to my stand. The creek was to my right,
with the ridge to my left. At my stand, the
land flattened out in a bottom, almost like a bowl,
and there was always something moving in there. I made
it to my stand, pulled my rifle up, and I
settled in. It was unusually warm and very comfortable. After
a while, I noticed the woods had gone totally quiet,
and still nothing was moving and there were no sounds
at all. It was dead silent. Well. This kind of
concerned me for reasons I didn't quite understand, and I
began feeling creeped out and uneasy. It got to the
point that I decided to I'm down and make my
way out. I hadn't walked more than a few yards
on the old logging road when I heard something on
top of the ridge. It was somebody or something walking
with heavy footsteps, but much louder than mine. When I
stopped to see what it was, it stopped too. I
couldn't see it, so I kept walking slower than before.
I made sure to make as little noise as possible.
Still looking at the ridge, once again, I heard the footsteps.
I could plainly tell that this thing was walking on
two feet, and it wasn't trying to be quiet about it.
It was trying to match my steps. There were a
few trees and hardly any brush or bushes on the
hillside on the ridge, and I should have been able
to see something, but it was empty. It was just
me and the trees. I walked, and I stopped again
and again, and each time the creature stopped when I stopped,
and walked when I walked. I have been in the
woods all my life, and I knew nothing that would
do this. I wasn't scared yet, but it was more
than strange. I began to notice that the steps were
slowly coming off the ridge toward me, and by the
time I got to where I could see my uncle's
house through the woods. This thing felt like it was
no more than fifteen yards away, but I still couldn't
see it. Once again, I stopped, but this time I
heard something else down the hill to my left, splashing
as it crossed the creek, and it came toward me
as well. Now I was scared. I had something coming
at me from two directions, so I raised my two
seventy and I pointed at the noise. Out of nowhere,
my uncle's dog jumped out onto the road in front
of me, wagging his tail. He had come out to
meet me, as he often did. When he got closer
to me, he froze, his ears went up, and his
hair bristled. He gave one small growl, and then turned
and ran like crazy back to the house. Before I
had time to register what had just happened, whatever had
paced me out of the woods began to scream. And
when I say scream, I mean it was the loudest,
most ungodly scream I had ever heard. I could feel
it vibrating in my chest, almost to the point that
it made me sick, and I couldn't move. I was
staring at the spot where it seemed to be coming from,
still unable to see anything but the trees, and the
scream went on and on longer than should have been possible.
After what seemed to be an eternity, I finally got
my feet moving one foot and then the next, still
looking at where this thing should have been, and scared
to the point that I had never been, and I
started walking, wanting nothing more than to be out of there.
I finally made it to the creek and I crossed it,
with this thing scream at me all the way. When
I got to the other side of the water, everything stopped.
I got home and I called one of my buddies
and I told him what had happened. But he just laughed,
and he said that I had been followed out by
a coyote. The other person I told laughed at me too.
I know what happened, though, and I know that whatever
it was, I should have been able to see it.
I should have been able to see something, at least
some kind of movement. I've heard other people say that
they wished they could see a sysquatch or a dog man.
I'm here to tell you to be careful what you
wish for whatever it was. I'm glad I didn't see it,
and going by what I heard and felt, I know
it was something that I didn't want to get a
look at. I had hunted those woods for years before
this happened, and never had anything out of the ordinary
happened to me. It used to be my favorite place
to hunt. Most of the time. While out there, I
would just sit there and watch deer and squirrels and
occasionally a turkey or a bobcat. I wasn't really there
to take anything, just to watch it in some way,
just be a part of nature. It was my escape.
But after that warm December day, I never went back
out there alone. I don't tell my story to get
people to believe me. Believe it or not doesn't matter
to me. I know what happened. I know what happened
to me. That's one of the best stories I've read
in a long time. This guy had a real experience.
People don't make these kind of stories up. That's a
If he'd have made it up, he'd have said he
saw it, you know, But he never saw anything, and
it was just like it was right there. Eh. It
just blows my mind some of the things these bigfoots
can do to people, but it was a great story.
Thanks to my neighbor from Alabama for sending it to me.
I really appreciate it. I did b