Speaker 1: In nineteen fifty eight, we moved into a house southwest
of Densville, South Carolina. It wasn't long after moving in
that we noticed someone was picking in our windows. My
friend across the street said someone had been messing around
in his garden too. I went over to the house
and I noticed large barefoot prints in the soil. But
at the time we didn't know anything about bigfoot, so
it didn't cross our mind. It wasn't until after I
enlisted in the Air Force that I learned about Bigfoot
from the Patterson film. In nineteen sixty seven, I came
home on leave. I spent most of my younger years
hunting and planned to do a little when I was home.
I went down the street from our house and into
the woods. There was a long, swampy length of area
that had a going through it, which was covered in
a mass of thorn bushes. In the center was a
tunnel like structure. I went inside and looked around and
found some giant barefoot tracks in the mud. I wasn't
in the tunnel long when I heard something coming toward
me from the other end. I rushed back to where
I entered and hid, just in time to see a
big black thing coming in my direction. I quietly cocked
my gun and waited for it to get closer so
I could see better through the thorn bushes. I could
see it was a black bigfoot. Luckily he didn't see me.
I knew better than to shooting him. I'm afraid I
would have been killed if I tried. I told my
friend to cross the street about my encounter, and I
left it at that. All these years later, I found
a bigfoot track in my yard here in Hillsville, Virginia.
Seeing it brought back memories of my encounter when I
was young, and I will never forget it. In the
summer of nineteen seventy six, I was five years old.
My brother and I were on a two week camping
trip with my grandparents in North Idaho, and visiting them
in the summer became a regular thing when I was
a kid. My grandfather was an avid out doorsman, and
he had all the gear you could want. Had a
truck and a camper and a couple of Honda ninety
trail bikes. We were camped in my grandparents' favorite spot
on a creek near the Saint Joe River. There was
another party camping nearby, and they stopped to let us
know that a cougar had been seen early that morning
walking down the middle of the gravel road. They wanted
us to be aware that it could still be around,
and my grandpa thanked them and let them know that
he would tell them if he saw it. And my
grandpa took me fishing while my brother and my grandmother
worked on collecting firewood for the fire pit. There was
a part of the creek that my grandpa could walk
in without getting too wet and fish a good area
on the other side. I followed a little bit into
the creek, and then I lost interest and I started
looking for rocks. My grandpa wasn't very far away, maybe
thirty feet or so. When his line got a hit
from a big trout. He yelled for me to get
the net that he had forgotten on the camp side
of the creek. Well. I ran and got it, and
when I started heading back through the water to give
it to him, I tripped and I fell. I got
up and I looked at my grandpa's direction. Stay there,
he yelled. I saw movement on the bank of the
creek in front of my grandpa. It was a gigantic
cougar reaching down into the water and grabbing fish off
of his fishing line. It happened so fast that I
didn't even know what to do. My grandpa started swearing
and yelling at the cougar and waving his arms in
the air, but instead of running off, the cougar dropped
the fish and headed into the water toward him. Lie froze,
thinking we were both cougar bait, when behind it, on
the bank of the creek, a large black figure walking
on two legs crashed through the trees. It frightened the cougar,
who ran away from the sound, right into my grandpa,
knocking him down and making him drop his fishing pole.
My grandpa left his fishing pole and grabbed me by
the neck of my shirt, and he picked me up
out of the water, and we headed quickly toward our
camp without saying a word. We ran the entire way there.
When my grandpa finally put me down, he told me
to be quiet and catch my breath while he talked
to my grandmother that damn sasquatch is back again. I
heard him say. I could tell he was flustered, but
he didn't sound afraid. My grandmother just laughed, Well, tell him,
we're not leaving, I heard her say. I wasn't sure
what to think. I was more curious than I was scared.
And that night we had a camp fire. I had
almost forgotten what had happened earlier in the day. The
air was warm, and a cool breeze came up from
the creek. We heard a couple of strange noises in
the bushes, but my grandparents distracted us with some moors
and we didn't pay any attention to it. The next morning,
my grandpa got up early and would to see if
he could find his fishing pole, but he didn't have
any luck. Later in the morning, my brother, who had
been running in and out of the bushes pretending to
shoot the invisible enemies with a cool stick he found,
called my grandpa over to look at something well. I
tagged along, and I found my brother pointing at my
grandpa's fishing pole leaning against the trunk of a big
cedar tree. It was almost like someone placed it there
for safe keeping. The line was broken and the metal
loopop on the tip was a little bent, but my
grandfather said it was almost as good as new. The
rest of that day was uneventful, but that night I'll
never forget it. We were all sitting around the campfire
listening to music on a radio tape player when my
grandpa got lost in his thoughts and he stared off
in the woods. The boys are back in town. I
heard him mumble to my grandma. We heard a loud
whoop coming from the creek area where we had seen
that sidequatch. Two more whoops came from the opposite direction,
over by the gravel road. The sounds continued for a
few minutes until I felt like they were right next
to us. My grandpa told my grandmother to take us
boys to the camper and get the beds ready, and
as we walked, he heard a huge crash come out
of the bushes. Two large black figures came out of
the bushes, wrestling on the ground and making deep growling sounds.
They looked like they were rough housing more than they
were fighting, like the way dogs play, And if they
knew we were right there looking at them, they couldn't
have cared less. My grandfather was calm as he could be,
but my grandmother cursed and pushed my brother and me
into the camper. I looked back at the two figures,
and I saw them stand up and walk toward the creek,
and then I heard them crashing through the water, and
then there was silence. After that, there was no sound
except for the creek flowing. My grandfather just laughed and
headed to the cooler for a beer, and then he
sat back down at the campfire and he enjoyed the night.
I didn't feel scared at all, maybe because my grandparents
were so calm and easy going about the whole thing.
My grandmother went to bed, but my brother and I
went back outside and we sat with Grandpa late into
the night and we listened to the radio. We didn't
hear or see the sasquatch for two days. My brother
acted like he had forgotten what had happened, but I
thought about it the whole time. When I asked my
grandpa about it, he told me that the sasquatch were
the keepers of the forest and they protected all things
that were good. He died when I was sixteen. I
remember talking with my grandmother about the sisquatch scaring the
cougar and driving it right into my grandpa, and to
my delight, she even verified the story by reading me
a part of the diary she wrote from that camping trip.
She kept clear and detailed notes, especially when the sasquatch
came to visit. There were several entries about sasquatch. My
mom ended up buying my grandparents' house, and when she
passed away, my brother and I sold it. I kept
all of my grandma's diaries and well, one day right
about the incredible experiences she and my grandfather had since
that camping trip. I've been lucky to have other strange experiences,
and I will write you about those two soon. Oh man,
I hope you do send it. That would be wonderful.
That is an exceptional, exceptional experience with a sasquatch. Very
impressed who did a great job, right, And thanks for
sending it, sir. Okay, this is another Bigfoot story, and
this one may ruffle some feathers. It's a little bit
provocative to the big orthodox Bigfoot people. But I hope
you guys will listen to the whole thing because it's
really interesting and it's a lot of fun. My grandfather, Calvin,
was born in Jefferson County, Florida, in eighteen eighty six.
He grew up in the Kody area, hunting and fishing,
and roaming the local woods. When he was a teenage boy,
he began working in logging camps deep in the woods,
accessible only by railroad laid to access the timber. He
was an excellent woodman, a hunter, and an expert with firearms.
In nineteen twenty nine, after the stock market crashed and
his employer went broke, he became a sharecropping farmer and
eventually bought his own farm A few months after he
died in nineteen fifty one. I went to live with
my grandmother until I graduated from high school and joined
the Army. When I was growing up, one of the
family stories I heard from my grandmother was about an
encounter my grandfather had one night during the years that
he was sharecropping in Lafayette County. This was during the
Great Depression and the family was struggling to survive. Their
only means of transportation was a mule and a wagon,
or they walked. One night, my granddaddy was walking home.
It was after dark, but it was clear night, and
there was enough light from the moon and stars for
him to be able to see the road for a
little way ahead. He was walking along the dirt road
in a wooded area that was sparsely populated, with no
houses nearby. When he approached an intersection, he saw what
appeared to be a large man standing upright, silent and unmoving.
Being a lifelong woodsman and hunter, he was well aware
of all the wild animals living in their area, including
black bears. He was also aware of all the domestic animals,
which at that time were allowed to roam free on
the open range. He knew most, if not all, of
the men who lived in the area, but didn't know
anyone as large as the one standing in front of him.
He couldn't pass through the intersection without walking past him.
At twenty yards, he could tell this was no normal man,
but some type of creature. It was far too tall
and far too wide. It looked too human to be
an animal, but too animal to be a human. He
was apprehensive about approaching the strange being under those circumstances,
so he stopped short of the intersection and challenged the
giant to identify himself. He got no response. After challenging
the creature several more times to identify itself, he threatened
to shoot it, and when he still received no response,
he fired two shots from a Smith and Wesson thirty
eight special into its chest. Considering his expertise with the
revolver and the close range, it is not likely he
missed as mark. After he shot, the giant creature moved
off into the woods, walking upright on two legs like
a man, and it never made a sound. If it
had been wounded, if it had been in pain, it
didn't show it. After a few minutes, standing there, alarmed
and ready to fire again, my grandfather continued on his
way home. The next morning, he and some neighbors, all
of them armed, went back to the intersection in the
daylight to find the creature, or at least find its
tracks to determine what it was. They didn't find anything.
There was no sign at all. No man or animal
was ever reported as having been shot or seen at
the time in location, and the mystery was never solved.
I was born in nineteen thirty seven, and I grew
up on farms. I was allowed to start hunting squirrels
by myself when I was ten. I grew to love
turkey and woodduck hunting and did so for around sixty
four years. After high school, I joined the army, and
then I was sworn in as a police officer in Tallahassee.
In my years of hunting, I heard sounds in the
woods that I could not identify or explain. Most of
the places I hunted had a haul in the woods,
and I always attributed those sounds to them nosing around.
I was a long time hunter, and I never believed
the so called bigfoot hunters had any knowledge whatsoever of hunting,
and in the woods they couldn't seem to find their
rear end with both hands. They would go out at
night where a bigfoot was reportedly sighted twenty years ago
and beat on trees, making human like yells. One so
called researcher claimed he constantly saw bigfoot scat piles in
the woods, but scoffed at the suggestion that he collect
the sample and belittle the person who would make the suggestion. Now,
I'm somewhat familiar with bear dogs and know that they
have more grit than the average dog. I've always thought
that they would trail a bigfoot if it existed. If
the bigfoot hunters were really serious, they would use a
large pack of bear dogs, preferably plot hounds, to track one.
From a current sighting. I've heard people say that a
gun shot is not enough to stop a bigfoot. With
some guns, I don't doubt that to be true. But
an elephant rifle, a cape buffalo rifle, a thirty six,
and many other high powered hunting rifles would kill any
mammal on the planet. A brain shot would kill anything,
and a spine shot would paralyze it, if not kill
a bigfoot. Almost all people who claim to have had
a bigfoo experience report feeling a sense of being watched,
followed by the sighting of the creature, an object, or
some form of movement. In my opinion, the feeling of
being watched is not caused by actually being watched. It
is caused internally by fear. Now, when I hear that statement,
I assumed that they were, for some reason afraid of
the circumstances in which they found themselves. In addition, bigfoot
encounter reports are subject to hoaxes. There are also numerous
ways in which the different shapes of footprints and faces
are reported cave man faces, ape like faces, human like faces,
dog like faces, wolf like faces, human like teeth and
canine like teeth, and benevolent, aggressive, indifferent, etc. Is there
that much variation in the appearance in shape of that
same type of creature. Are there many different types of
huge creatures? I don't think so. To me, these variances
diminish the overall credibility of bigfoot encounter reports. Yet here
I am a skeptic, reminiscing on my grandfather's encounter all
those years ago, and I think to myself, what did
he have to gain by telling that tall tale? What
benefit it would bring to him an honest man to
tell a lie so fantastic as that at a time
when a man's character was joe udge by his mental hardness,
at a time when a negative notch in a man's
reputation could cost him his livelihood and mean the difference
between putting food on his family's table or not. Yet,
this man, hardened by the times and hardened by experience,
risk it all by telling his neighbors what he saw,
and to his credit, they must have believed him, or
they would not have joined in on the search. The
only conclusion that I can come to is that my
grandfather was telling the truth. There was a giant creature
standing on two legs in that road, and it was
so powerful that it did not react to the bullets,
and it was so enormous and out of this world
that my grandfather, a seasoned hunter, couldnot begin to identify
it as a man or animal. Now, I may be
a healthy skeptic, and the concept of the creature is
more than my mind can accept without actually seeing one myself.
Seeing is believing, as the saying goes. But with all
that said, if Bigfoot is truly out there, I don't
want to see one. I'm sorry. I'm almost sorry. It
took so long to get to this email. I don't
even know when I got it. It could have been
in the last two or three years. But this is
exactly how I feel about he is a healthy skeptic.
I was talking to some people in an RV resort.
We drove down to the coast this past weekend to
get in one last couple of days at the beach
before it's before the weather got too cold. So I
was wearing shorts and sandals yesterday morning, and when I
got home last night I had to bottle up. It
was like thirty degrees outside. I think it's still thirty
degrees it's about noon the next day. Anyway, the topic
of I don't tell people I do this channel. People
don't recognize me. You might think they would, but they
don't know. Nobody's ever recognized me out in a Walmart
or anything like that, and I don't, So I didn't
initiate the conversation, is what I'm saying. But the topic
of bigfit came up, and people were people were given there,
some people were laughing, and some people were saying, well,
I like, I think it could be true. And then
there was a couple of people that's go, oh, I
know it's true. I know it's true. My cousin or
my ann or my buddy, or I've got some you know,
they have stories they've heard that make them believe. But
there is a degree of healthy skepticism that goes with
this topic. And he just named several of the reasons.
Why do we get so many reports of so many
different behaviors, so many reports of different appearances, hair color,
Some are aggressive, some are benevolent, some are kind of agnostic.
They don't really engage at all, They just stand there.
Some of them run away. Now, people that this is
my opinion, People who don't know, they'll just make up something. Well,
there's a certain type of bigfoot. This this way, then
there's a certain type of big you don't know that
there's nobody knows that. And so this is what causes
the skepticism in the bigfoot community, is because there are
so many different stories that nobody can really get a
beeline on what these things are or what they do
or what their behavior is. The only explanation I can
ever come up with is that these things are maybe supernatural.
But I don't even know that. And I always go
back to the thought that and I've said this one
hundred times in this podcast. I don't care if bigfoot
is real or not. I really don't care because it
just has no impact on my life. If I saw
one out behind my house, that might change my life.
So I'm not discounting people who have claimed to have
had a traumatic encounters. But to me, bigfoot's proven real,
I'm happy for that. If it's never proved real, it
makes no difference to me. It doesn't matter to me
at all. But I do have a level of healthy skepticism,
and I'm glad he described it that way because I
would have never come up with that those words healthy skepticism.
And it's okay if people are skeptics it's okay, you
know the real statch of bigfoot people. You don't have
to get mad at people who are skeptics. You don't
even have to get mad at people who think it's
just a big lie. I mean, it really doesn't matter
what someone else believes to your life, to your life anyway.
I don't ever comment on these stories hardly anymore, because
I think some people get and I know the comments
are going to be, oh, we love to hear you talking. Well,
there's a little bit of talking, but for the most part,
and in the spirit of storytelling, it's probably best if
I don't run my mouth. But I did on this one.
It's just my opinion. I don't know. I probably made
some people mad. Don't get mad at me. Show me
your proof, Show me your proof if you've got it,
show me your proof, not a blurry picture. Don't want
any blurry pictures. I have seen some things online that
has been uploaded by people who I know personally that
I've gotten to know through this storytelling experience that really
really look very convincing tracks. That's probably the biggest one.
None of the videos that I see that people claim
or bigfoot are convincing to me. The Patterson Gimblin film
is very convincing to me, but I can't I can't
figure out what that thing is. Nobody knows what that
thing is in the in the video. Now, some of
y'all are so deep into this subject, you've got it
all figured out there. There are not enough facts for
me to really delve deeper in it. It's all subjective.
We don't have any firm proof. We don't have a
we don't have a specimen. They're dead or alive. It'd
be cool if we could ever get one and put
it in a zoo. People could go see it. That's
my opinion. But anyway, I'll shut up. We'll go to
another story. Thank you very much to the writer who
sent this. He didn't say whether to give his name
or not. But Rebecca, my editor, she did a good
job on this one. She even put me a warning
in the front, highlighted that says, the story goes from
a neat recounting to something that happened to his grandfather,
and then he talks about his own doubts. And I
think she was like, do you really want to read
this skeptic? He kyah, Yeah, I love these I like
every facet. If you don't believe in Bigfoot, send me
an email, give me your opinion on it. I'll read
it on here. I like a good discussion and people
need to be challenged on one side or the other.
But I'll tell you this, the people who believe in Bigfoot,
you're gonna have to come up with a lot more proof.
And you can't just say, how could all these people
be lying? If you want the general and I'm not
talking about me, if you want the general public to
be aware of this creature and believe it exists, you're
gonna have to show them some proof, a specimen or
a live or dead, or a corpse or a skeleton
or something. It's going to take something. So anyway, all right,
I said ten minutes ago, I was going to shut up.
Now I really am going to shut up. Let's go
to another story. Okay, here's a little short email, but
this is really good, really good. On December tenth, nineteen
sixty nine, the Patterson Gimlin film was playing at the
local theater. I really wanted to go, but I didn't
want to go by myself. I was a nineteen year
old single woman and I was shy. Now, I asked
my mom if she thought it was okay to ask
a guy friend to go with me. She said sure,
he was nice and to go ahead. He and I
had been friends for a couple of years. Well, I
gave him a call. I was embarrassed to be asking him,
so I offered to pay for both of us. He
laughed and said that he wanted to see it too,
and he would be paying. It was a date. After
the movie, we went for coffee and we spent hours
just talking. He asked me to marry him that night.
We got married on December thirty one, nineteen sixty nine. Yes,
just twenty one days later. When my husband was working
on his master's degree in anthropology at the University of Idaho,
he was asked to become a bigfoot hunter as an
idea for his master's thesis. We would be living in
the woods for who knows how long. We talked about it,
but decided not to. I'm happy with our decision, but
it was fun to think about what we might have
experienced had my husband said yes. On New Year's Eve,
this year, we will have been married for fifty years.
Oh my gosh, that would mean I got this in
twenty nineteen or twenty twenty, so that's like four years ago.
Must have just got locked off somewhere in my inbox.
But this was such a sweet little story. I had
to read it to y'all. She got up enough nerve
to ask a friend of hers to go see the
Patterson Gimlin film at the local theater in nineteen sixty nine,
and he asked her to marry her that night. That
is so cool. I'm so glad I finally found this
and got it got it up on the podcast because
I really love these happy stories. Thank you to the
writer for sending it. Okay, two or three months ago,
I asked for some dog stories, and I've got three
left to do. I'm going to do one right here.
That'll leave me too to go. If you've got dog stories,
send them to me. Heartwarming fun. If you just love
your dog, send me a story about it. I'd love
to read it. But let's let's do this dog story.
My name is Joshua, and I used to live in Toledo, Ohio.
I lived in a middle class neighborhood with my parents,
my younger brother, and a pure bred colliage named Sonny.
I love that dog more than life itself. We were
one year apart in age, and I grew up with
him by my side until I was sixteen. We had
some woods at the end of our dead end street
that I love to explore no matter the season. Sonny
and I would go down there when I would let
him off his lease, to run and play and explore.
There was a creek that ran through those woods that
was twenty or so feet across. There was a path
that had been worn along the creek over the decades
by people walking and exploring, just like we were doing.
On an early summer day when I was ten years old.
I had just been sprayed from head to toe with
a mosquito repellent by my mom, and Sunday and I
went exploring in those woods like we had done dozens
of times before. We strolled down the path from the
end of my street to the creek which connected with
the creekside path. Panting with anticipation, I let my dog
off the leash and off he went. Lucky for me,
Sonny was very protective and never stayed too far away
from me. I took a left on the path along
the creek and I found a large branch that made
a great walking stick, and I started my walk. In
some areas there were small trees and brush, but nothing
too thick. As I got close to a bend in
the creek, I noticed some rustling and some brush twenty
or so feet in front of me. I thought it
was a squirrel or a bird, or some other small
animal I had seen a thousand times before, and I
took a couple of steps closer. Out from behind the
bush came a German shepherd, black and brown, who quickly
decided I was some sort of threat, and in two steps,
he ran and started to leap at me, teeth bared
and ready to pounce. Everything around me seemed to slow down.
As the shepherd leaped, I saw a brown blur out
of the corner of my eye. It was Sonny, with
his teeth, beard, and angrier than I had ever seen him.
In one ferocious, elegant move, he caught the shepherd by
the neck, spun around, and tossed it into the banks
of the creek, a good seven or eight feet away.
Sonny whirled around in protective posture, and the shepherd slowly
got up and backed away down the edge of the creek.
My dog was starling and baring its teeth and staring
this shepherd down as it backed away. The shepherd turned tail,
ran along the stream and back into the woods, realizing
the fight probably he was not worth it. When he
was sure the German shepherd was long gone, Sonny turned
around with those Collie eyes this tail wagging, making sure
I was okay. I gave that dog the biggest hug
I had ever given him, and he walked by my
side until we made our way out of the woods
and back home. He got hugs and treats for me
the rest of that day. The colleagues can be the
sweetest dogs I would know. I've had four other colleague
or colleague mixes since Sonny in my lifetime. They're great
around kids, and they love to play, and they're endlessly
curious and or quick to learn. They are also fearless
and ferocious protectors of their families. Thanks for the stories, Cam.
If you decide to read mine, I know you'll do it.
Justice love the podcast in the YouTube channel. They helped
me get through some long days while working from home.
Oh man, what a great dog story. I don't know
if it's a big colleague. Some of those colleagues are
big and some are kind of small, like the border colleagues. Anyway,
I got a friend of mine, I think I announced
it in a podcast in the last couple of months,
that his father had died had always had colleagues and
had a pair of females, and we were trying to
find a new home for those dogs. A couple of
people emailed me and then they just vanished. I don't
know what the point of that was, but anyway, the
widow of this man who died decided to keep the dogs.
So if y'all are remember that she's keeping them. She
loves the dogs. They're really well behaved, so I'm kind
of glad it worked out that way. So that's my
experience with colleagues. That's all I know about colleagues. I
think I've been around them. They're not there are so
full of energy, and it would seem to me like
you'd need a big place for them to run. And
they're kind of hurting dogs, you know, like to herd
and nippers. What are those dogs healers. Healers are kind
of nippers and herders, and it almost feels like they're
kind of in that family. I'm not a dog expert.
I just like dogs. But anyway, this was just a wonderful,
wonderful story, and Sonny saved this boy's life from a
German shepherd. I thought that was awesome, What a great story.
All right, here's another Bigfoot story. I think it's gonna
be pretty good. Looks like it's going to be pretty good.
Back in nineteen ninety five, my buddy and I were
both eighteen years old and we loved taking his dog
coon hunting. Like most teenagers, we were night owls, and
it was one type of hunting that allowed us to
still talk without having to be extra quiet. The place
we normally went was called five Woods because it was
five separate plots of woods surrounded by cornfields. Each block
of woods was roughly thirty acres in size, and it
was located one hundred yards or more away from the others.
The first set of woods, where we normally parked, was
grown over and difficult to traverse, so we never hunted there.
From the edge of the road to where the first
woods started was fifty yards. There was a single path
through the middle of the trees and brush leading to
the other side, so we kept the dog on her
leash until we made it out and closer to the
next set of woods. I always felt uneasy walking through there,
and I usually had my can light up a little
brighter because it made me feel a little safer. For
those who don't know what a can light is, just
picture old miners with the light on their helmets and
a big battery pack on their belt. You keep your
can light dim when walking around, and then when your
dog trees a coon, you crank up the light so
that you can get ey shine back from the coon
in the tree. Well, one night, my buddy's dad decide
to go with us. He was an old farmer who
was no stranger to Honting, and from what I gathered,
he used to go out and investigate bigfoot sightings. After
a night of hunting, we decided to head back to
the trucks and go home. I don't know why, but
having as dead with us made me feel not so
uneasy walking through the last set of woods. Just before
we got back to the trucks, as soon as we
hit the road and we're about to turn off our lights,
we heard a massive bellow coming from the woods. Thirty
seconds later it happened again. We stood next to each
other on the edge of the road and fired up
all three can lights as bright as they would go,
and we panned back and forth through the trees, trying
to get some eyes shine from whatever this thing was.
We never saw eyes or any kind of movement, but
every thirty seconds or so we would hear that same
loud bellow come from just inside the woods. Now, I've
been around all types of animals, and I'd never heard
anything like that. The closest thing I could think of
with that lung capacity in our area would be a cow.
But I can assure you there could not have been
a cow in those woods. It was hard enough for
us to walk through there, and there wasn't a pasture
anywhere near. After a few minutes of this, his dad
nonchalantly said, I'll tell you what it sounds like to me,
to which my buddy said, bigfoot. His dad half grinned,
he nodded yes and said, well, boys, I'm heading to
the house. Don't stay out too late. Then he got
in this truck and he left. My buddy and I
looked at each other, and we looked at our little
twenty two rifles, and we decided to get the hell
out of there too. Once we got back to their house,
his dad got out the old original VHS copy of
the Legend of Boggy Creek. I'm not going to say
it was definitely Bigfoot, but it wasn't anything like I'd
ever heard before or since, and that night sparked my
curiosity about this subject. Since then, I've spent a lot
of time in the woods of Tennessee and West Virginia,
off roading and trail riding four wheelers now my side
by side, stopping at night on the trail with all
the lights off for long periods of time just to
hang out with friends and listen for strange noises. Unfortunately,
I've not heard anything since that night.