Speaker 1: The first time I saw si squatch was in December
of twenty eighteen. It was late bow season in my
great state of Michigan. My mother's horse had just passed away,
and we were devastated at the loss of our show boy.
So I did what I do best from October until January,
I went hunting. I took my crossbow and headed down
the road to a nearby property that I should have
never gone to. I had managed to slip in and
out of there on many occasions. I was working my
way up a deer trail through deadfall poplar trees, with
the wind in my face. The plan was to stalk
the upper meadow and wait until dark and attempt to
ambush any large buck or fawnless dough that stepped out.
As I approached the meadow, my thoughts and vision began
to swirl, and I thought I was going to pass out.
I stepped to the edge of the meadow, stood five
feet from an old maple that was almost six feet across,
and I looked to my left and I was horrified.
Thirty yards away from me, I saw two large sasquatches
walking away. I distinctly remember the muscle mass of the
male's back and shoulders and the large girth of the female.
She was the ten foot tall blonde version of the
Patterson Gimlin film. The male was taller than her by
two feet, and his hair was black and buckskin brown.
He was half as white as that old maple tree.
The pines he walked through just came above his knees
nine five foot six, and those same trees came up
to my chest. Had he been right next to me,
he would have dwarfed me. And it scares me as
I think about it. I don't like to go in
the woods in the darkness, and this experience almost ruined
hunting for me. I've had many more encounters since and
have learned plenty. I've lost my fear of forest neighbors
now and have grown fond of them. I feel safe
with them as I've seen them protect me. But it's
not all good news. I'm actively dealing with one in
my new territory that has proven to be aggressive. If
you're interested in any of the other encounters, all you
have to do is ask, and the gentleman signs off
Coyode Wild Bay, which is the name of his YouTube channel.
If I think about it, I'll try to find it
and link it in the description below. But if I
forget about it, which I'm likely to do, just look
up Coyote wild Bay in your search bar and his
channel should come right up. You could probably hear a
lot more of his other stories. I really appreciate this
encounter story. Thank you for sending it, Cody wild Bae.
You de man. Appreciate you all right. Here's a story
about a dog man or rugaroo or a werewolf. The
category is rugaroo according to my editor, let's us read
this story. This looks really good, looks kind of spooky.
In the mid nineteen eighties, I was visiting my great
aunt Cat. I had just broken up with my first boyfriend,
and I was pouting on the back porch looking out
into the by you. My Aunt Cat could walk like
a ghost if she wanted. We all called her Cat
because she was as silent and graceful as one. She
asked what I was upset about, but I didn't want
to answer her, so I asked her a question instead.
Do you believe in the rugaroo? I ask for your
listeners who don't know, the rugaroo is our version of
Bigfoot of the by You, Aunt kat sat down beside
me and smiled, looking out as well. Well, I believe
in many things, she said in her strong but frail voice.
I believe in the magic of the bay you, and
there's a good and evil in the world. Well, do
you think the rugaroo is evil? I ask? No, No,
she said, They're trying to survive, just like the rest
of us, hiding from humans. Will you make it sound
like humans are the evil ones? I told her. She
gave me a strange look, as if she were searching
for something. Then she nodded and continued, Now you're old
enough to understand that not everything is so simple or fair,
she said, looking out again. I could tell she wasn't
looking into the by you sparkling in the sunlight, or
the dragonflies that fly about. But in her own past,
I knew not to disrupt her. The story she went
on to tell me is something I will never forget.
She was born to a wealthy and influential family, but
life was never easy for her. She never had the
true luxury of wealth since she was born girl. She
had a room, and she had food and clothing and
an education, but that was it. At that time, girls
were only good for being sold off into marriage to
increase their empires for future sons. For some reason, her
elder brother always hated her and made her his target.
When he would practice hunting, he would do it with
her as the prey, and as he grew older, his
hunts grew as well. Once, when my aunt was only
ten years old, she had to put a lock on
the outside of her bedroom door to keep her brother
out because he was putting rats and spiders and scorpions
in her bed. She had made the mistake of screaming
bloody murder and telling her father what had happened, thinking
it would help. She couldn't have been more wrong. Not
only did her father not offer any help, but he
also scolded her for yelling, and he cut the lock
off her door. She rushed into the bedroom and whipped
the bedspread off the bed and found a copperhead snake.
Though it wasn't her fault, her father was so furious
with her he sent her away to their summer house
in the woods. She never complained. It was wonderful out there,
away from her family. The only other people there were
the servants. She ran wild and free in the woods
and learned every nook and cranny of the landscape and
memorized every tree and learned about each of the animals.
But her joy at the summerhouse was short lived, and
her brother came to visit the property to continue his
hunting games with her. As she grew up, the game
became more dangerous, and spending time alone in the woods
became her salvation. When she told her parents about what
her brother had been doing, they were of no help.
Her father's only comment was to her brother, don't hurt
her too badly. She's going to be married off in
her seventeenth birthday. The sneer on her brother's face was
pure evil. He told her that night that he would
be taking a young woman deep in the woods so
he and his friends could haunt her down. Don't you
ever worry that they'll talk, she asked him, But her
brother only laughed as he walked away, saying the dead
can't talk. One day, a few months before her seventeenth birthday,
she came downstairs to a room full of her brother
and all of his hunting friends. He introduced her as
that day's prey, and then he gave her a twenty
minute head start, But instead of running in fear, she
calmly turned away and walked back upstairs, not letting him
see her. Scared, she knew that she had to disappear
into the woods, even though it was late in the day,
so she changed into brown and green clothing and left
her shoes in the closet, and then she shimmde down
the tree outside her window and she ran off into
the forest. She ran silently, stepping with great care to
avoid leaving any footprints for them to follow, as she
rubbed wildflowers all over her skin to get rid of
any scent. And when she was deep in the forest,
she climbed a large tree until she was twenty feet up,
and she waited, and she caught her breath. Even though
she knew she was still alone, she was drawn to
look over into the tree next to her. There looking
back at her were two big orange eyes. The being
was huge and massive as the tree it sat in.
At that time of day, the sun was setting and
the shadows were growing quickly. She could not see the
details of the creature, except that it had a shaggy outline.
She sat there staring at this being, and she heard
her brother's hunting party in the distance looking for her.
Are you sure you saw her run into these woods,
her brother said positive. One of the others said, laughing,
no one has a body like your sister, Mat. Can't
you trailer yet, her brother asked another friend. Not yet.
Another from the party said, kneeling on the ground with
a handful of leaves and rubbing them between his fingers
to catch a set. She looked back to where the
monster was in the tree. It was looking down at
the men as if trying to figure out what they
were doing. When their eyes locked again, she could tell
it realized that it wasn't the one being hunted she was.
Its eyes widened and then turned to red slits. A
commotion came from below, and she turned to watch the
men arguing about what to do. When she looked back
at the other tree, the creature was gone. She waited
until she heard the hunting party move further away, and
then simmy back down the tree and she made her
way back to the house. She climbed back into her bed,
and just as she was about to close the window,
she heard an ear shattering roar and vibrated through the forest.
A few minutes later, she saw movement outside. Her brother
and his hunting team came running toward the house, yelling
and tripping over themselves as they ran for their lives.
She could see stones being thrown at their backs. She
heard the roar again and nearly laughed at how ridiculous
the hunting party looked. And when she heard them rush inside,
she went down the stairs and found them all as
scared and angry as they could be. One of the hunters,
full of rage and adrenaline, exclaimed that he was going
back out there to kill the thing, and he rushed
back outside. After a few gunshots and more roars, the
other two men were so terrified they jumped in their
vehicles and they sped away, and then everything was silent
again in the woods. In the end, my aunt left
her family and didn't marry the man her father had
planned for her. It turned out that he had been
in the hunting party. Now that is a story from
my great aunt Kat and her bigfoot encounter. I know
it was a dark story, but I felt that it
answered some of the questions I hear repeated on your channel. Often.
I hear someone say, no one can be that silent,
or no one could run full out and not leave prince.
But I'm here to tell you that my Aunt Kat could.
And if your life is in constant survival mode, you
become what you have to be to live and to survive.
I think humans like Bigfoot can be extremely adaptable if
and when the circumstances call for it, and we should
never underestimate the human drive to survive. Thank you for
reading my story. I love your channel. Keep doing what
you do, just the way you do it, and she
signs off. B what a cool story. I thought a
rugaroo was like a werewolf. Maybe maybe it can be
all sorts of things down in louis that's a Louisiana
Bayou monster, the rugaroo or loop garu. There's two or
three different names for them. Maybe the loop garou is
the werewolf and the rugaroo is the bigfoot. I don't know.
I don't know anything about this stuff. I just do
these stories. But I think this was a great story,
and I really appreciate miss b sending this. What a
great nostalgic story to share with this audience. Thank you, ma'am.
I live in a ranch style house. The garage is
at one end of the house and the bedrooms are
at the other. My bedroom is the master bedroom and
it has a large picture window that looks out onto
the backyard. Due to the slope of the yard and
the door to the cross space being directly under my
bedroom window, the window is nine feet off the ground.
Now I'm five foot six, and the window is still
probably a good four feet over my head if I'm
outside underneath it. There's this evergreen tree in my backyard
twenty feet from the window. The needles are broad and flat,
and the bar can be peeled off in stringy bits.
The lower branches of this tree are six feet off
the ground. In September of nineteen ninety eight, I was
a sophomore in high school. It was a Sunday, and
once church was over, my mom and I went to
eat lunch and then went home. Within minutes of walking
in the door, my friend called and I took the
handset of our cordless phone into my bedroom so we
could have a conversation. While I was on the phone,
I started pacing back and forth in my bedroom. I
walked toward the window, and turn and walked toward the
opposite wall, and then turn and do it all over again.
At some point in the conversation, I walked toward the
opposite wall and turned around to face the window. Right
then I noticed a dark shadow at the base of
the window that resembled a human head and a neck.
At first, I tried looking for a tree or something
that could have cast a shadow of that shape, but
I couldn't find anything. Then I realized that the shadow
had a three dimensional quality to it, and I said,
oh my God, out loud. The shadow dropped down out
of sight. I rushed over to the window in time
to see this human shaped shadow run across the yard
toward the evergreen tree and he climbed it. And when
it reached the lower branches, it stopped and turned its
head to see if I was looking at it, and
then it kept climbing and it disappeared. My friend asked
me what was happening. I told him what I saw,
and he said I needed to thank God because what
I had described to him sounded like a demon that
he had read about in a book on demonology. Well,
not really knowing what this thing was, I thank God anyway,
and I figured it couldn't hurt. Two days later, I
in my backyard and went over to that tree. The
branches this thing had grabbed on too had died, and
all the leaves on those branches had turned brown and
fallen off to the ground in a loose pile. In
two thousand and five, I was working as a third
shift security guard and my favorite thing to help pass
the time was to listen to the late night radio
talk show about the paranormal. I finally summoned the courage
and I called into the show and I shared my story.
I told the host that I wasn't sure what the
thing was, even though my friend said it was a demon,
and the host asked me if it had glowing red
eyes and I said no. The host believed that since
it didn't have glowing red eyes that it wasn't a demon.
I still don't know what it was, and I haven't
seen anything quite like it since. Oh man, that is spooky.
Young girl pacing back and forth in her room looks
out and sees this giant thing in her backyard. The
creepiest thing about this is the limbs dying on the
tree wherever it touched it. I guess demons are all
about death and everything they touch is contaminated like that,
and the tree just couldn't take it. But what an
interesting story. Only demons It's only a demon if it
has red eyes, apparently to this person on I bet
it was an art bell show about the paranormal. Apparently,
if it doesn't have red eyes, it's not a demon,
according to this guy. I don't know. I'm thinking maybe
all demons don't have red glowing eyes, but who knows.
What a great story. Thanks for sharing it with us,
and we certainly do appreciate it. Thank you, ma'am. My
sighting happened when I was fourteen years old, and I
remember it well. I haven't told many people about it
because I know they will look at me like I'm nuts,
but I want my story to be heard. I live
in Oklahoma. My youth group went to an ast forest
for a camping trip for the weekend, a three hour
drive from our town. Our clearing was surrounded by hundreds
of miles of forests. To the left, thirty yards away
was a creek, and forty yards to the right was
a sad excuse for a toilet, which out in the
middle of nowhere as a hole in the ground with
a concrete building around it. There was plenty of game
in the area. We saw deer, and we heard there
were bison and bear and all the other little critters.
We figured that out when we found bison poop in
our campsite. No one was allowed to drink from the
creek because it had E cola in it and it
would make you sick. On the second night, I got
up to use the bathroom. Everyone else was sacked out
because some of them had gone rock climbing and other
tiring activities. I was the only one up at the time.
I had taken a flashlight so I could see where
I was going and make sure I didn't step on
a snake or something. When I lifted my light toward
the creek, I saw a huge black figure. It was
at least eight feet tall and four feet wide and
had long black hair hanging from its arms and body.
But I wasn't able to see any features, and it
didn't seem aggressive in the least. I was only half awake,
so I was thinking it was my shadow, and I
waved and it waved back. In my sleepy mind, that
confirmed that it was my shadow, and I did my
business and I went back to bed. It didn't strike
me until about a week later that it was not
my shadow. My flashlight had been in front of me
not behind me. It would have taken a huge light
from far back to cast a shadow of me that size.
There was no possible way that was my shadow. The
fact that it mimicked me by waving back shook me
to my core, and it still does. I think back,
and I wonder if this thing had been coming into
our camp all along and we didn't know about it.
Thank you for all the videos and the awesome content.
I hope you'll see this, and I think it's a
good enough story to put in the video. Heck, yeah,
it's a good enough story. I think I've had this
for a long time, maybe a year or two. But
I'm getting through them all, getting through them all, even
with the breaks and the lags between me posting podcasts.
I'm going to do every single one of them. If
it's illegible. This was a great story. I thought this
was very interesting. It's kind of a unique take on
running into a bigfoot in your campsite. It was very good.
Thank you for sending the story. It was wonderful. Okay,
this is kind of a creepy story that I thought
was really good. It's a swamp story. I love swamp stories.
I don't know why maybe because I've been in a
few swamps and I just think they're beautiful. But anyway,
never mind, let me just read the story. In twenty sixteen,
several hurricanes and tropical systems dumped copious amounts of rain
in North and South Carolina. All duckholes, creeks, and rivers
were flooded out of their banks. I have one particular
spot that shines when high water floods the moist soil vegetation,
allowing the ducks to access it. The spot is in
a swamp, flat off and artificially straight, man made canal
that is plainly visible from satellite images. I've talked with
locals and historians in the Police department and the low
country areas, and the consensus is that this complex of
canals was dug by slaves in the seventeen hundreds or
the eighteen hundreds in order to drain the swamp land
and allow access for farming, much like canals were dug
for rice propagation closer to the coast. It is no
sea that, with their involuntary servitude, slaves brought a great
deal of culture and beliefs with them from their original motherland.
To this day, their descendants that remain will tell you
stories of haints, mooo hags, plaid eyes, and the like.
Right up the road. A farm owner once told me
the story of Maggie, a local witch doctor in the
post Civil War area who leveraged her reputation to protect
a fishing hole via threats of putting a route or
casting a spell on anyone that poached her fish and game.
Are places like this still protected? Do ghosts move on?
Or do they still wander? I'm crossing some line by
going along a remote canal that was surely miserable and
grilling to handig in the slave days. Could it be
that the forced labor that dug the canal that facilitated
my duck hole dabbled in some sort of hoodoo or
voodoo or witch hundred years ago? The thought had certainly
crossed my mind as I hunted this spot. But still
I nearly always hunt solo, and I don't frighten too
easily to access this duckhole. I dropped my piro in
off side of the road, and I paddled about a
mile down the overgrown in beaver Dam canal before I
broke off into a grass flat on either side The
water was so high that there was no dry ground
or even waitable water for five hundred yards on either
side of the canal for the length of a mile.
I was getting close to exiting the canal for the
flooded vegetation when I saw two rectangular reflections several inches
apart in my head lamp. They looked like they were
on a big tree five or six feet up, but
I didn't get a great look because they were shining
back through the thick wax myrtle bush. They were so
large that I thought they must have been reflective taxure
tape left by another hunter to mark their spot. I
wasn't sure if I had paddled far enough to break
off from the canal, so I nosed my pirow into
the wax myrtle and I pulled out my phone to
check my progress on the map. I saw that I
still needed to go another couple hundred yards down the canal,
so I backed out of the bush and made it
ten yards down stream. I don't recall what made me
look over my shoulder, but I did, and I saw
those two rectangular reflections still there. I thought it was odd,
since I was one hundred and eighty degrees on the
opposite side of the tree from where I saw them
the minute before, meaning that whatever it was had crawled
around the tree and was watching me from the other
side well. I paddled in reverse to turn my pirow
around to face the tree, and when I did, the
two rectangular reflections quickly dropped down a foot and disappeared,
as if they were eyes watching me before for their
host spooked and turned its head and fled. I heard
three splashes in the swamp, and then I heard silence.
I shined my light around, but I didn't see anything,
and I thought the interaction was odd, but I chalked
it up to being a displaced deer or a wild
hog washed away out in the swamp a quarter a
mile from the shallow water. The large rectangular pupils were notable,
but I figured that maybe that is what a deer's
eyes look like when you're extremely close shining them with
a head lamp, and I had never paid close attention
to even notice. I moved on and a hunted, and
I returned home with modest brace of wood ducks. I
lived with my brother at the time, and I recounted
the story to him. He immediately balked at the rectangular reflections.
He said the only animal with rectangular pupils were octopuses.
A quick Internet search showed that the actual list also
includes goats and toads. I'm confident that the eyes were
too large to belong to a toad or an octopus,
and I'm almost nearly as confident that there was not
a goat standing five or six feet above the water
that far back into the flooded swamp. Now, there's plenty
of folklore that states that when the devil walks the earth,
he takes the form of a man with cloven hoofs
and horns like a goat, and often with wings as well.
Now I'm not saying I came face to face with
Lucifer deep in the South Carolina swamp, but given the
area's history and what I saw, I am not ruling
it out. Oh that is so cool. I've never heard
of rectangular eyes or irises as an iris or pupils pupils,
I've never heard of that. I wouldn't have never even
known an octopus had square pupils, or a goat or
what was the other animal? Can't remember ducks, I can't.
I'd have to read back anyway, I would not put
square red eyes looking back and me I would not
put that together with the devil. But this guy did
because he did know about the hexes and the voodoos
and hoodoos and plaid eyes and all that stuff with
the slave culture that was there long before he got there.
And you do have to wonder if some of those
pagan religions didn't cast some kind of demonic spell on
a place. I wonder about that. That's really got me thinking,
that's interesting. Anyway, I'm just rambling. Didn't mean to carry
on and say nothing, which I do often, but I
just thought it was an interesting story. Anyway, I'll shut up.
That was a great story. Thank you for sending it,
Thanks for joining me on this podcast, and we'll see
you on the next one, which will be pretty soon.
Thanks again,