Speaker 1: Back in twenty and seventeen, I purchased ten acres in
northern Michigan, a few miles away from Huron National Forest.
I bought the property to use as a weekend getaway
from my mother and myself. The area is set up
for RV camping, close to the road frontage and adjacent
to a garage. The rest of the property consists of
unused wooded areas and a long narrow drive lined with
thick trees and scrub, and there's also a shared pond
all the way in the back. During my first overnight stay,
I was awakened by a loud whoop from something close
to the bedroom window. It caught me off guard. I
almost fell out of bed. Well. I grabbed my flashlight
off the nightstand and I walked to the front of
the RV where Mom was. She was sound asleep. I
was sure the sound would have awakened her, even though
she cannot hear thunder without her hearing aids. On another visit,
I took the garden wagon loaded with tools to get
some work done back by the pond. I was standing
fifteen feet across from a thick tree line, clipping branches
to widen the drive path enough not to scratch the vehicles.
The trees and the bushes are so heavy that it
looked dark there even during the day. As I was
busy clipping away, I heard a loud grunting directly opposite
me from the thick trees. I was so startled that
my skin was crawling and my hands felt like they
were moving in slow motion as I grabbed the wagon
handle and pulled it along, walking out as fast as
I could. After that, I never went past the culvert
by the pond without carrying a weapon. Every time I
mowed past that point, I had the strong gut feeling
that I was being watch At times, I'd get so
creeped out that i'd keep my weapon trained on the
tree line as I moved near the trees, not that
a nine millimeter would do much good with the size
of whatever this was. Lady, if you can do that,
I bet you're not driving a zero turn lawnmower. I
have a zero turn, and if I even let go
of one handle, I just start going in circles. So
I always I just can't see myself holding a pistol
and steering a zero turn with one hand. But I
don't know that just hit me. I thought I'd talk
about it. Let's get back to the story. After about
a year, I thought it would be nice to put
a small shed down by the pond to use for
a more private getaway place further from the road. I
had an area cleared, the shed delivered, My father and
I spent the day up there mowing and trimming weeds.
When we reached the covert at the start of the pond,
we saw an enormous pile of gap. We got out
of the truck and tried to figure out what could
have made such a large pile. It didn't look like
bear droppings. When we gave up on trying to identify it,
I realized that one of the large logs I hadn't
split yet was floating in the middle of the pond.
It had been taken from a stack I had under
a lean to at the road. Now, how on earth
did it get all the way to the pond. Well.
My dad was puzzled just like I was, and he
quietly mumbled under his breath that it looked intentional. It
wasn't until later that I got the impression that something
was upset that I had invaded their space so I
stopped using the property as an overnight getaway. I only
went up for the day to mow and hang out
in nature until the early evening, when I would drive
home well. I fixed the shed with a small front
porch and placed a small metal table on it. It
had a raw iron base and an umbrella tightly secured
in the center. I drove my mother down with refreshments
and she sat in the chair next to the table
under the umbrella, with a nice view of the pond.
I started trimming trees, and after a few minutes I
looked down to check on my mom. She was standing
behind her chair, looking into the woods and trying to
get my attention. When I got back to her, she
said she heard a loud grunting across from where she
was sitting. This time, I brought a long gun. I
went to the vehicle and grabbed the rifle, and I
walked over to where my mother pointed at the noise.
I wasn't planning on shooting anything, but I had a
good scope and I hoped I could get an idea
of what was responsible for all the strange activity happening
on the party. I stepped several feet into the trees,
and then I heard something say sh fear took hold
of me and I only had enough courage to make
a quick scan with my scope. My instincts were yelling
at me to get out of the area immediately, and
I listened, and I packed Mom in the vehicle, and
I grabbed our goodies and we drove out. That was
the last time my mother went to that property. Later
that fall, my father and I went up for the
day to mow and trim, and after we finished working,
we decided to eat our sandwiches next to the little
pond area. When we got there, we saw the umbrella
lying on the ground. I picked it up to put
it back in its slot in the table, and I
noticed the folded metal in the center hole was bent,
as if something had slammed it around before picking it
up out of its holder and throwing it to the ground.
In the winter of twenty twenty, I drove up to
check the grapevines and see if I should trend them
back and check on the shed. The snow was pretty
deep and the plows had done their job on the
main road, but that driving onto my property was impossible
due to the wall of snow blocking my entrance, so
I parked across the street in the church parking lot
instead and walked to my property. It was a typical
Michigan winter weather day, and I had my down coat
on with a large poncho over it to make sure
that I stayed warm. It was cold and overcast and
only two more hours of daylight left, and I tracked
on into the property and checked on the grapevines and
I did a bit of cutting back, and I noticed
strange tracks in the snow that I could not figure out.
But it was the huge length of stride that caught
my attention. I tried to measure them using my own stride,
stretching my legs as far as they would go next
to the tracks, but I didn't even come close. It
looked like whatever made these tracks had done it on
three legs. Sure as rain as I reached the culvert,
a sick, dark feeling hit me hard in my stomach,
and I stopped in my tracks. My senses were telling
me that something menacing was only feet away and it
wanted me dead. And then within seconds the feeling of
danger lifted. I was confused but relieved, and I saw
my neighbor was pulling into his driveway all the way
up at the end of the road, and must have
accidentally scared off what had been there with me. There
have been numerous times while I was at the property
that I felt watched. If I walk along the drive
I hear something pacing me slowly in the tree line.
I never smell anything foul or out of the ordinary,
but often I will walk back a short distance and
find a feather placed directly in my path. For the
entire day last summer, I was tracked by something in
the trees. The neighbors were gone for a weekend at
a wedding, and I knew I was alone. I popped
up a small privacy tent to place my lugaloo. I
don't know what a lug aloo is. He set up
a table with a wash stand just outside the door.
I hammered in new tent steaks as I lost the
last ones, or so I thought. As the day was
coming to an end, I felt a very strong presence
in the bushes next to the pop up tent. Well,
this time I spoke to it. Don't worry, I'm leaving soon,
I said aloud. I went to use the bathroom before
the drive home, and after I finished, I could hear
a loud sniffing sound in the bushes right where I
had been standing. I couldn't see anything, but it was alarming. Nonetheless,
I'm leaving if you would just stop, I said louder
this time, thinking it would calm my nerves. I folded
the table down and grabbed the water jug and I
walked about thirty feet to the truck put the items
in it, and when I turned around, the pop up
tent was flat on the ground. I walked over to
it up and put it in its travel bag, and
again all of my tent steaks were gone. I looked
all around and I could not find a single one
of them. What on earth I thought? Was that bigfoot
that made the sniffing sound? Was he the one who
stole my tent steaks? I told it once more that
I was leaving, and I finished packing up and I left.
After all of this, I decided to sell the RV,
and after the buyer removed the trailer, I went up
to the property and found a tree that had been
near the RV that had been snapped clean off fifteen
feet up from its base. There hadn't been any storms
or high winds that I was aware of, And even
if there had been, why had the surrounding trees not
been affected. I pondered the strength that it would have
taken for the creature to break a thick, healthy trunk
like that, and I wondered if it had been Bigfoot.
I bought another shed in place to near the road,
and I currently use it for storage. I rarely go
back near the pond and contemplate whether I should just
sell the property because I cannot muster up enough courage
to spend any real time there. It's a shame, too,
because it's a lovely place. I guess Bigfoot seems to
think so too. Oh that was a good story. But
the sad part of it is, and I've heard this
so many times, so many times, that people are run
off of their property by these creatures. You know what's
the answer to that. I have no idea. It's the
luck of the draw. You buy some property that you
haven't frequented, and then you know, within the first few
months you find out you have these weird creatures on
the property. You can't enjoy it, you can't go out
at night. They run you off, They scare you all
the time. You're paranoid every time you go, and then
you wind up selling it. It's really a shame, and
I hate that this person had to move her RV.
It's she can't enjoy the pond anymore and she's thinking
about selling it. It's just a sad state of affairs
in my opinion. Maybe you'll get it worked out. I
don't know what would be a method to run these
things off. That's that what I might need to call
Steve Lilly get him out of there. Of course he
doesn't just run him off, he kills them. But maybe
that's the answer. Who knows. All Right, that was a
good story. Thank you, ma'am for sending it. I thought
it was great. Thank you. Okay, here's another Bigfoot story.
I think this whole podcast is going to be nothing
but Bigfoot, which people seem to enjoy. So let's get
into story number two. I'm from southern Virginia, about two
hours north of North Carolina. When I was fourteen, my
buddy and I were going to do an archery bear hunt.
We set out around lunchtime after school and we made
it to the location we wanted to hunt. My buddy
made his way northwest and I went northeast. Thirty minutes
in he texted me and he told me that he
saw a bear cub and that he was going to wait,
hoping there may be a boar or a sow nearby.
I sat down and I waited too, until fifteen minutes
later when I heard him screaming. I had just drawn
my gun and was running in his direction when a
five foot tall black creature running on two legs ran
past me, going the opposite direction at full speed. When
I got to my friend, he was bawling tears. I
asked him what happened, but he couldn't speak. When he
finally got a hold of himself, he said that as
he drew back his spow, the bear cub he thought
he was looking at stood up on two feet and
looked him in the eye, and it snarled, and then
it took off. To this day, we don't go near
that area where we saw it. Another time, I was
out fishing, but the bike was slow and I hadn't
caught much. I decided to quit for a while and
check the trail cams. I've decided to carry a shotgun
to our ponds because of snakes, and that day I
was carrying a pump action shotgun. I had just set
my fishing pole down on the picnic table and was
making my way to check my cameras, hoping to see
if I had any good bucks to look at for
the coming rifle season. I walked on and I heard
a loud crunching sound twenty yards to my left. I
shouldered my gun in case a wild boar, pig or
a black bear was about to attack me, and as
I looked in the direction of the sound, a creature
stepped out from behind the trees, and he was covered
head to toe in brownish blonde hair. I couldn't do
anything but stop and stare at it, and when it
started coming toward me, I yelled at it to stop.
It backed up forty yards or so and I relaxed,
but I tensed again just as quickly when it turned
around again in it charged right at me. I knew
right then that I'd have to shoot at it. I'm
six foot seven and I weighed two hundred and forty pounds,
but this thing was so tall I had to point
up when I shot at it. Way up. It was
easily over ten feet tall. I had number four buck
shot in that pump action. Each shell has fifty four pellets,
and I swear all fifty four of those pellets bounced
off of this thing when I shot it, and it
roared in a way I had never heard, like it
was speaking, yelling at me to get the hell out
of there. And as I watched it run back into
the dense forest, I knew that was the last time
I would hunt there. Oh my gosh, buck shot bouncing
off of bigfoot didn't even penetrate its hide. Now that
is amazing. The longer I do this podcast, every once
in a while I come across something new, and this
is really new. Most time when people shoot a bigfoot,
it either bleeds or tears a hole in it, or
makes it limp or kills it. I've never heard of
bullets or shotgun shot bouncing off of bigfoot of bigfoot hide,
But lucky for you, it was good enough to send
him on his way. You're six foot seven, two hundred
and forty pounds. You're a big man. But even at
that size, a ten foot bigfoot coming down on you, you
gotta start shooting. You just gotta start shooting. Thank you
for this exciting story. I thought it was great all right,
Bigfoot story number three. In twenty and twelve, my family
moved into a new home that we built in Grandview, Missouri.
It's located in a small valley next to Longview Lake,
which consists of nine hundred and sixty acres. Woods surround
the house property and behind us as a trail that
completes a circle, and there's wildlife galore, deer, Turkey's codes,
mountain lions, and everything in between. A year after moving in,
my wife and our lab and I were walking the
trail almost at dusk. As we cleared the end of
the trail directly at the top of the hill, we
heard a strange call. It sounded like a bird of prey,
but ended in a long whistle, and it was moving
from left to right. When we got back to our house,
I saw my next door neighbor was out working on
his car. He heard the noise too, and we both
agreed it was unusual. A few months later, I was
wakened by something hitting the house. It sounded like a
big tree had fallen, Though now I don't have trees
anywhere near the property big enough to make that kind
of racket. I figured the wind had knocked something down,
and I didn't think much more of it. We have
a mating pair of great horned owls nested up on
the hill, and I used to have fun calling back
and forth with them because they always responded to me.
Late one night, I was waking to the sound of
one of the owls in the back of the house.
I enjoyed listening to its call for a while, and
then I went back to sleep. A little while later,
I realized that it wasn't an owl. It was way
too loud, and the tone suggested it was from a
much bigger creature. Not only that it was coming from
the other side of my window, and the owls had
never gotten that close to our house before. I was
feeling ill at the time, with a scratchy throat, and
I had a glass of water on my nightstand. When
I coughed and leaned over to take a drink, something
right outside my window mimicked my cough exactly. I nearly
choked on the sip of water. Later on, my son
and I measured the height of that window. It's eight
feet off the ground. After that night, it took me
a couple of years to get the courage to sleep
in that room again. I finally moved to bed, but
I still had trouble sleeping. In December of twenty twenty two,
my neighbor called me in a frenzy and asked me
if I was home. I told him no. When I
asked him what was going on, he told me it
sounded like a tree had hit the house. He said
that when he heard the noise, he went outside with
a flashlight, but he couldn't find anything wrong. Our neighbor
had heard it too. He went up into my attic
to see if there had been some kind of damage,
but he couldn't find anything broken or out of the ordinary.
A year later, I was taking a shower when all
of a sudden, a scream came from outside. It sounded
like a cross between an elephant trumpeting and a lion roaring.
I was twenty feet from the window and in the
shower with the water and exhaust fan running. I usually
can't hear anything when I'm in there, but this screen
was so loud that I felt it. It took me
so off guard that I had to catch myself from
slipping on the floor of the shower. I thought someone
had broken into the house, and my system went in
to fight or flight mode. I quickly got out and
looked around my house, but thankfully I didn't see anything.
I have always enjoyed watching those Bigfoot shows, and one
of them a couple was woken in the night by
a strange whistle. I found myself screaming at television and saying,
that was the same whistle that I heard. How could
that be? The people in the TV show were sixteen
hundred miles away, but it's all woods where I live,
and I'm next to the water overrun by deer, and
I guess it makes perfect sense that if Bigfoot lived anywhere,
he would live near me. That's a good story. I
don't think he ever saw it, but he's getting some
really really good evidence that Bigfoot does live near where
he lives in Grandview, Missouri, close to long View, late
nine hundred and sixty acres of woods. It's a perfect
habitat for a Bigfoot. Missouri is a big hotspot. I
think that's where the let's see what what is the
what is the Bigfoot in Momo? Momo is the Missouri Bigfoot?
Maybe it's Momo living around your house, brother, I don't know.
It's a great story, thank you so much for sending it.
I know everyone enjoyed it. Okay, Rebecca says, this is
a heartwarming story from the other side. I think it's
a bigfoot maybe not. I'm reading this cold. Let's see
what this story is about. I'm kind of excited. In
nineteen ninety four, I was twenty three years old and
my wife and I had been married for just under
a year. It was that spring when I got a
call that my grandmother wasn't going to be with us
much longer. I went to the hospital to say goodbye.
My grandparents were parents to fourteen children, most of whom
were parents to at least four children, so our extended
family was massive. Oh that is such good news. We
need to be having more kids in this culture. We
need more people. You guys need to be getting married,
having kids, raising families. You will not regret it. If
we don't, We're going to lose our population. There are
other cultures that are reproducing three or four times as
many kids as we are, and someday this American culture
will be gone. But I digress. That just made me
think of it. This is a topic that I worry about. Anyway,
back to the story, we saw our grandparents from time
to time, but being a bit of a drive for them,
we didn't see them nearly as much as we should.
That afternoon, not long after I had left the hospital,
my grandmother passed away. I phoned my wife and I
told her the news. She offered words of love and support,
and before we ended the call, she asked if there
was anything she could do to lift my spirits, and
I said, how about some hugs when I get home?
And she replied, you got it. I finished work and
went straight home. When I walked into the door, my
wife had taken post it notes and written the word
hug on them. There must have been a hundred of
them that were stuck all over the place, the walls,
the tables, on chairs, on the TV, even a half
a dozen spots on the ceiling. This was no small feat,
seeing she is only five foot six. She also offered
the real thing, a big, long hug that truly did
make me feel better, and thirty years later, it still does.
We ate supper, and we cleaned up and watched some
TV to pass the time. Later that evening, when it
was time to turn in for the night, we decided
that we should probably take down all those papers, her hugs.
We each started to pull them down and we tossed
them in the trash, and we climbed into bed. And
that's when I noticed one post it note on the
ceiling directly over the bed. I decided I'd get that
one in the morning. My wife falls asleep quickly, but
I always lay awake for some time before drifting off.
At night was no different. As I tried to fall asleep,
I thought of my grandmother. I remember my mom telling
me how hard she worked to feed all of those kids,
how she'd make hundreds of loaves of bread and canned
hundreds of jars of preserves. And I soon found myself
regretting not getting to know her better and letting her
know that I had always admired her. And then I
started talking to her directly, not out loud, of course,
just in my thoughts. I let her know that I
loved her, and I wished that I could have told
her that more when she was alive. I asked her
to please you send me a sign in the next
few days if she heard me. And then out of
the blue, I felt something lightly tap my forehead and
then my nose. It was dark and I was a
little startled, and I assumed it was a big mouth
or or some kind of bug. So I brushed my
nose and I placed my hands on my chest, and
that's when I felt it. It was the post it
note Grandma had sent me a hug. I'm not a
diehard believer in ghosts or other such things. I don't
discount the possibility out right. I guess I just have
to experience it myself to really believe it, that's all.
But this was different. I started crying right then and
there as I thought of the odds. My wife had
to make the post it notes she had put them up.
One had been over the bed, and it had to
fall at the exact right time for me to get
that hug. It had to hit my head first. If
it had landed on my chest first, I wouldn't have
felt it through the comforter. It hit my forehead first
and then my nose, as if to say, Hey, pay attention,
this one's for you. I woke my wife up to
tell her what had happened. She was sure it was
no coincidence, and so was I. It was a truly
wonderful feeling. Oh that was not a Bigfoot story at all,
that was not really even a ghost story. And I think, uh,
you know, I don't know. I think if we look,
if we watch, keep our mind open, and watch the
things that happen in our daily lives. I think a
lot of times God speaks to us through images, through
actions of other people, through coincidences. There's a word for it.
Is it serendipity. I don't know, but I've heard a
lot of people talk about it, and I've had a
lot of those experiences in my life. It's hard to
remember them. They kind of they kind of fade away
with time. But after reading this story, I have made
a resolution, at least for the next few days, to
be conscious and look for those little signs that God
sends me that tell me that He's there. I'll tell
you one thing that always makes me think of Jesus,
and I don't know why it does, but in the
spring and in the summer, and this usually happens when
I'm having a terrible day and my wife and I
have had an argument. Something's going on with one of
the grandchildren, her children, something is off. And it's almost
every time I will see a butterfly close to me,
they don't get on me. They don't land on my shoulder,
they don't land on my knee when I'm sitting, but
they'll be just right there and I get close to them,
and they get up and they flutter around, and they'll
go around me and around my head, and then they'll
fly off somewhere, and sometimes I'll watch them for days,
and that makes me think that everything is going to
be okay. Something about butterflies. They're so pretty. How in
the world you know butterflies. I'm getting off topic here,
but sometimes butterflies they just look like they're just kind
of will and nilly flapping their wings. But if you
watch them, it's like they'll go to a specific plant.
They know exactly how much effort to put in to
their wings to get to a specific spot. Anyway, that's
quite a tangent. But that's one of the things that
really makes me think of God and his creation and
all the good things in the world are butterflies, and
they always show up at the perfect time. So thanks
for listening to this person's story who wrote this email,
and thanks for listening to my story. I really appreciate
this person sending it in. It lifted my spirits. Thank you,
Thank you for joining me on this podcast. If you're
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