Speaker 1: Okay, welcome to the podcast. I have one story in
this episode. I got this email fairly recently, and it
is a bigfoot encounter in near Cave Run Lake in Kentucky.
Wasn't there a big story about a bigfoot sighting near
a campground near Cave Run Lake. I'm trying to remember
where Cave Rn I lived in that state for ten years.
I can't remember exactly where it is. It seems like
Cave Run is over in eastern Kentucky, but it might
be it might be down around Mammo Springs. That's where Wait,
is that the big Cave System. I don't know what
I'm talking about. I've been to all these places. I
fished Cave Run. I just can't remember where it is.
I fished a bunch of lakes in that state. It's
a different kind of fishing than I was raised on,
but I enjoyed it. It was fun. Went muskie fishing
one time. I think it was at Caveron Lake and
the guy was with caught a musky. He said, he said,
that's a fish of a thousand casts. I thought, dude,
that's pretty cool. It wasn't a huge fish, but anyway,
there must be kind of sparse. I don't know anyway
back to the story. This is an exciting story, so
hold on to the old weaves. Here we go. After
forty five years of hunting and being in the woods
and being successful and harvesting everything from coyotes, deer, turkey, bear,
and other types of small game, I will be selling
my guns, equipment and donating all my camo. I think
I need some sort of therapy or medication to deal
with what happened to me this past turkey season. I'm
afraid to tell anyone, including my family and even my
hunting buddies. I can't go to a shrink or tell
my doctor because I'm afraid I'll be sent to the
hospital for observation. I don't know for sure, but that
might be a good thing to allow me time to
sort this out in my head. I have opted to
reach out to you and tell you my story and
recount what happened to me the last weekend of April
in the Cave Run Lake region of Kentucky, while hunting
turkey by myself. I had already harvested one bird with
a bow and called in several gobblers for my friends.
So this was going to be my own time with
mother nature and me having a battle of wits with
an educated thunder chicken. It started like every other spring
turkey hunt I have ever been on, in which I
was up at four am, in the woods at five
point thirty and at the top of a ridge. By
six am, the birds, which had been quiet this year,
roared to the rising sun, and I had my choice
of five different directions to follow the gobbling. I knew
my way around the area like I knew my own home,
having hunted that region since I was thirteen, so I
decided to take the ridge to a point that opened
into a small clearing that dropped off on both sides
and had a sawbriar thicket that ran adjacent to the backside.
The bird was still in the tree when I set
up one hundred and fifty yards away from it, and
I increased the frequency of my calls, mixing in clucks
and yelps and some very sexy cuts and cackles, and
I had this bird fired up. I was cutting him off,
and he was cutting me off with double and triple gobbles.
So I knew I was going home early that day.
As on many occasions, this bird wanted to stay on
the roost until he got a visual confirmation that he
was not being catfished by an ugly hen. I played
the long distance love song for twenty minutes, and then
he went silent. I realized the entire forest was still,
but I knew this bird was coming. Sometimes birds in
this area will do that. They'll stop gobbling and approach
in silence. I had my shotgun on my knee and
my call was in my mouth, and I was completely
undetectable with my back against a large black oak that
was almost as white as my shoulders. I tucked in
the tree fifteen feet from the clearing, and my eyes
looked for movement from this bird. I had been sitting
there motionless for fifteen minutes when something reached around the
tree from both directions, and with the top hand it
grabbed my mouth and neck, pulling it back against the tree,
and the other hand was around my waist, which also
pulled my gun into my gut. I was unable to
move anything other than my feet, and the more I kicked,
the tighter its grip was on my waist until I
stopped kicking. At that point, it relaxed its grip just
a little. My eyes rolled wide, searching to see what
had me in its grip. It was blurry, but I
could see its hands and its arm as it held
my face. It was a dark brown hair covered arm
in areas where there was no hair, it was callous,
dark gray skin, and thick fingers like a gorilla. I
could not move my head, and I struggled to get
air in the gaps between its fingers. If I kicked,
the grip tightened, so I did my best to relax
so that I could breathe. I focused on the sunlit
fiel just outside the trees in front of me, and
I tried to take in a measured breath. My heart
rate began to drop just a little, and I relaxed
just enough to think. When a doe walked out into
the grass, I noticed her colors right away, that light
brown tone that blazed in the sun against the new
spring grass. I focused on her and I almost fell
into a trance. She was panting and blowing after a minute,
and then began to stomp, obviously trying to get us
to move. They know when something is not right in
the woods. A black streak shot across her and she
went down. It was so fast that I almost missed it,
and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The creature
that had me tightened its grips lightly and took my
mind away from the show in front of us. Another
creature came into view and hovered over the deer, which
was only quivering now in its death rattle. It raised
its head. It was a dog like head with ears erect,
and it scanned the area, made a clicking sound that
I had never heard, and it raised its muzzle into
the air and lifted its front jaws and white things
shone in the sun. They had to be three inches long.
It howled, and it was answered immediately by another howl
not too far away. Less than a minute later, there
were two of these werewolves standing in the clearing, devouring
the dough. I will never experience fear like that again,
I'm sure of that. My thoughts went back to whatever
had me pinned against the tree, and I knew I
was next on the menu. In a matter of just
a few minutes, the deer carcass was gone, with only
a large bloody patch on the ground. As they bit
through the meat and the bones, swallowing mouthfuls as if
it were a race to see which beasts could consume
the most meat, and as fast as it began, it
was over, and both creatures turned toward the backside of
the clearing and began to sniff the air, at which
time my heart sank into my stomach and my fight
or flight instincts were in overload. Had I not been captive,
I would have been running at that point, which would
have been the worst mistake I could make. The creature
started to look in my direction, and I could tell
that they knew something was out of place. The head
of the monster that held me against the tree came
briefly into my peripheral view, and it let out a
tremendous roar, so loud that I lost my hearing in
my right ear for the rest of that day. The
pair of beasts in the field took one step toward
my location. They had not moved afoot when several roars
lit up the area. I don't know how many there were,
but a few, maybe four or five, and they all
roared at one time, and just like that, the two
dog creatures turned and bolted out of view, followed by
a massive explosion of movement around me as the second
group burst into pursuit of the dog creatures, leaving me
held against the tree by my captor. The hand that
held my waist grabbed my gun and snatched it out
of my hands and threw it into the trees, and
then it released my mouth. It took me a minute
to gather my senses, but I got to my feet
and I started to run to my shotgun. I didn't
see my captor anywhere. As I took the first few steps,
I couldn't see the gun, but I knew which way
he had thrown it. Like a flash, it was in
front of me, blocking my way. One more step and
I would have bounced off the mast of beast. It
groaned and it pushed me back onto the ground. Until
that moment, I assumed these things all looked the same,
like dogs. But what stood before me was different. It
was bigger, and it was thicker. It was more heavy set.
The color was not black, maybe it was dark brown.
It towered over, and it's deep inhales and exhales intimidated
me to no end. I locked onto its face, and
I could see emotion and thought in those large dark eyes.
Its nose was almost flat against its face, and its
mouth could have held an NFL football. I got up
and I ran. I ran down that trail that I
came in on. But what had taken me over forty
five minutes to travel before only took me maybe ten
minutes to get back to my truck. And when I
got in the truck, I kept the fast pace going
and I flew down that gravel road, pushing the limit
on how hard I could drive without putting it up
a tree or over a cliff. A week later, my
gun is still on that ridge near Cave Run Lake,
and I'm not going in there to get it. I
cannot sleep. I have called off work three days and
I was sent home another. Some got as I work
with walked in the bathroom and while I was in
the middle of a crying episode. It was one of
many I've had since this happened to me. I don't
know what it is. I'm not a crier, but when
the memories fled back in detail, I burst into a
crying fit. I can't control it. I don't think the
bigfoot type creatures meant me any harm, but I do
believe I would have been consumed by those dogs slash
wolf creatures if the Bigfoot had not wrapped me up.
This is not a death I would want to experience.
Right now, I'm so afraid of the woods. And now
I drive an additional twenty minutes each day to drive
to work on busy highways instead of county rows. I
refused to sit on the porch anymore, which is something
that I had cherished, spending time with my wife on
the port, swinging and sipping sweet tea and listening to
birds sing. I've even hired the kid down the street
to cut my grass. I won't even get that close
to the woods. My questions are, what should I do?
Is there help for people who have had these experiences? Well,
I'll be able to get past this and enjoy all
those things I dearly loved in my past life. And
that's the end of a story. That's Kentucky. That's not
too far from me. I don't okay, run If I
could remember where it is, I want to say it's
on the east side of Lexington. That's some hilly country
and there's some thick woods in there, and I'm sure
there are other encounters in that area. But to this
man's question, I mean, who do you talk to if
you're in a war? And you come back with some
terrible images in your head or memories of things that
you've done. You can you know, psychiatrists know how to
deal with that. In the military and even in civilian life,
people equiped to deal to help you deal with those things.
But I don't know where you go. And people have
sent me first. I've been accused of not caring about
people who've had these experiences, but it's kind of like this.
I've never had that kind of experience, so I don't
know what they're going through. I mean, there's a lot
of things that people go through that I have sympathy
for that may not look like I have sympathy for
it because I've just never been through anything like that.
I mean, you can just pick anything, you know. And
I may have said this before, but the first thing
we all think is, man, I'm glad that didn't happen
to me. You don't say it. You don't say it,
but you're thinking it. That's kind of what I was
thinking when I was reading this man. This guy he
needs to talk to somebody, But who does he talk
to without being committed to the mental or mental floor
of the hospital. I don't know. I wish I knew
what to tell him. Maybe you guys, maybe there's a
Bigfoot support group, you know, like a like a AA
for Bigfoot encounter somewhere. If there isn't, there probably ought
to be, because these people claim to have serious memories
of this stuff. And I can sympathize with that, but
I can't. I can't identify with it because I've never
been through anything like that. But if I ever do
go through something like that, I'm gonna tell you all
about it. But I don't think Bigfoot even is interested
in me. People see Bigfoot everywhere, and they see bigfoot
sign everywhere. I never see anything, nothing, nothing, no signs,
no nothing. But I don't know. I feel like I'm
talking kind of slow. Am I talking too slow? I'm
not sure. Sounds like I'm talking slow anyway. I had
a few minutes this afternoon I've been writing Steve Lilly.
I needed to take a break. I had to do
a little editing on this, so that was I don't
really like to do that, but sometimes I'll jump into it,
and uh, it's kind of cathartic. Is that a word?
Cathartic therapeutic? I don't know. I'm not very smart I don't.
I don't have a big vocabulary. Cathartic sounds right, but
it was kind of that way to edit this and uh,
you know, get the get everything presentable to read. But
I enjoyed reading it. I feel for this guy. If
you guys have any advice for him, give him a comment.
Let him know I didn't get this too long ago,
so he's probably still listening. All right, man, thanks for
the story. I'm sorry you're dealing with all that, but
we will see you guys on the next podcast. Thanks
for joining me.