SO EP:548 Bigfoot Encounters

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out here? Did you see what it was? It was enough out here. Look, I'm new to window now and I don't need anything. I don't want to go outside. It's right, Hello, hit the boddy out here? What quin? I'm out there? It's thought of amnures about text nine. I don't know. Easy him out there. Yeah, I'm walking right head uh.

few people dared to go back. Then he'd been out there for weeks alone, setting traps and collecting furs. In early October, he made camp near a creek that looked promising. The first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. Normally there'd be the sounds of birds, insects, or small animals, but this place was dead silent. He wrote that it gave him an uneasy feeling, but he brushed it off and set his traps. The next morning, two of his traps were gone, not just empty, gone like they'd never

been there in the first place. The third trap was destroyed, snapped in half like a twig. He thought it might have been a bear at first, but then he found the tracks. They were huge, bigger than any bear he'd ever seen, and they weren't shaped like bear tracks. They looked like human footprints, only twice the size of a normal man's foot. He stayed another night, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him. That night he saw it. He wrote that it came into the

clearing where he'd set up camp. It was huge, taller than any man he'd ever seen, and covered in dark hair. Its eyes reflected the light of his fire, and for a moment it just stood there, staring at him. He didn't know if it was going to attack or leave him alone, but eventually it turned and disappeared back into the trees. He stayed awake all night after that, listening to every little sound. The next morning he packed up and left. He abandoned the rest of his traps and

the furs. He'd already collected, things that meant money and survival to him, but he didn't care. He never went back to that part of Oregon again. That's the story straight from his journal. My family has always believed him because Jedediah wasn't the kind of man to make up tall tales. He was practical, no nonsense, and the idea of him being scared enough to leave his work behind speaks volumes. Anyway, I thought you'd appreciate it. Thanks for

doing what you do best. Mark t Hi Brian, I've been listening to your podcast for a while now, and I finally decided to share my story. When I was sixteen back in nineteen fifty five in a small mining town in West Virginia, it was a summer night and my best friend Brad and I decided to go camping in the woods. We'd heard stories from an old drunken town about a wild man living out there, and we thought it would be fun to go see if we

could find it. We told our parents we were going to camp by the creek, packed up some snacks in a flashlight, and set out in the late afternoon. The woods were our playground back then. We knew every trail, every clearing, every hidden spot where we could fish or just hang out. But this time we went farther than usual into a part of the forest. We didn't visit much.

It was quiet that night, too quiet. Usually you'd hear crickets, frogs, or the occasional owl, but there was nothing, just this heavy, suffocating silence. We built a small fire and sat around it, trying to laugh and tell jokes, but we were both on edge. Sometime after midnight we heard it. It started as a low growl coming from somewhere in the trees. Then we heard movement, heavy footsteps, slow and deliberate, like something big was circling our camp. We grabbed the flashlight

and shined it into the darkness. That's when we saw it. It was huge, taller than any man I'd ever seen, and covered in dark hair. It stood on two legs like a person, but it wasn't human. Its face was broad and flat, with glowing eyes that caught the light from our fire. It stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring at us. We didn't say a word. We just grabbed our stuff and ran. I don't think

I've ever run so fast in my life. I could hear it crashing through the trees behind us, but it didn't follow us all the way out. When we finally made it back to town, we didn't tell anyone what had happened. I never went back to those woods. Brad and I drifted apart after that summer, but I'll always

remember what we saw. Thanks for letting me share. Keep up the great work, tom ar Hi Brian, I've been an avid listener of your podcast for a couple of years now, and I've heard countless stories that made me think, Wow, that's incredible, but I never imagined i'd have one of my own to share. My name is Jake, and I've been living and hunting in Alaska for most of my life. I'm forty five now, and the experience I'm about to share happened just a few winters ago, in December twenty

twenty two. I've hesitated to tell anyone about this, partly because I wasn't sure anyone would believe me, and partly because I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself. But after much thought, I decided it's time to share my story. Maybe it'll help me make sense of it, or at least let others know that some legends might just be real. Every year, I take a solo hunting trip into the Alaskan back country. It's a tradition I started in my twenties, a way to disconnect from the

hustle and bustle of life and reconnect with nature. I usually go for about a week tracking game, camping under the stars, and enjoying the solitude. My friends and family think I'm a bit crazy for doing it alone, but I've always felt comfortable out there. In December twenty twenty two, I planned my trip a bit later than usual. Work had been hectic, and I was looking forward to some

peace and quiet before the holidays. I packed my gear, my reliable Winchester rifle, a sturdy tent, enough provisions for ten days. I always pack extra just in case, and all the essentials for surviving in the harsh Alaskan winter. I chose a new area to explore, this time, a remote region near the foothills of the Brooks Range. It's a place not many people venture to, especially that time of year. The weather can be unpredictable and the terrain is rugged, but that's part of the allure for me.

I set out early on a crisp Monday morning. The sky was clear and the forecast promised stable weather for the next week. I drove as far as the old logging roads would take me, then parked my truck at a makeshift campsite known to a few locals. From there, it was all on foot. The first couple of days were uneventful in a good way. I hiked through snow covered forests, crossed frozen streams, and marveled at the untouched

beauty around me. I spotted tracks of moose and caribou, and even glimpsed a pack of wolves in the distance. The nights were cold, but manageable with a good fire and a warm sleeping bag. On the third day, I decided to push further north toward a valley i'd seen on the map. It was supposed to be a prime spot for game, and I was eager to see it for myself. As I made my way into the valley,

I started noticing odd things. The first was the silence. Now, the wilderness can be quiet, but there's usually some sound, the wind in the tree, trees, distant animal calls, the creaking of ice. But here it was as if the whole area was holding its breath. Then I found the tracks. At first glance, I thought they might be bear tracks, but they were different, larger and with a different shape. They were elongated with what looked like five toes and

sunk deep into the snow, indicating significant weight. I crouched down to get a better look, measuring them against my hand, they were nearly twice the size of my bootprint. I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold air. Maybe it's just an old bear with deformed paws, I told myself, trying to shake off the unease. I pressed on, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Every so often, i'd stop and listen, scanning the trees for any sign of movement, but there

was nothing, just that eerie silence. By late afternoon, the sky started to change. Dark clouds were rolling in from the west, and I knew a storm was coming. I found a suitable spot to set up camp, a small clearing surrounded by dense spruce trees that would offer some protection from the wind. As I was pitching my tent, I heard a sound that made me stop in my tracks. It was a distant, low howl, not like a wolf or any other animal I'd heard before. It echoed through

the valley, sending a shiver down my spine. Must be the wind, I muttered, though deep down I didn't believe it. I finished setting up camp and got a fire going. As the night fell, the wind picked up and snow began to fall lightly. I cooked some beans over the fire and tried to relax, but that uneasy feeling lingered. Around nine PM, I decided to turn in. I secured my food supplies can't be too careful with bears around,

and crawled into my tent. The sound of the wind and the gently falling snow usually lulled me to sleep, but that night sleep wouldn't come. Sometime later, I can't be sure how long I heard something outside. It was a soft crunching sound, like footsteps in the snow. I held my breath, straining to listen. Crunch, crunch, crunch. They were slow, deliberate steps getting closer to my tent. I reached for my rifle, keeping as quiet as possible. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure whatever was

out there could hear it. Then everything went silent again. I waited every muscle tense. Minutes passed, but there was nothing. I finally convinced myself it was just an animal passing by, a moose or maybe a caribou. I must have drifted off eventually, because the next thing I knew it was morning. I stepped out of my tent to a fresh layer of snow about two inches. The storm had passed and the sky was clear again. But as I looked around,

I noticed something that made my blood run cold. There were tracks circling my campsite, the same large human like footprints i'd seen the day before, only this time they were fresh and unmistakable. They came from the trees, circled my tent twice, and then headed back into the forest. I followed them a short distance until they disappeared into a thicker part of the woods. I didn't dare go any further. Someone's messing with me, I thought, But who I was miles from any town and I hadn't seen

another soul since I left my truck. I tried to shake it off, but the sense of being watched was stronger now. I decided to move on, maybe head back toward the truck and cut the trip short. As I packed up camp, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was making the right decision. The wilderness has a way of telling you when you're not welcome, and I wasn't about to ignore it. I started hiking back the way I came, keeping a steady pace. The sun was out,

but it did little to warm the frigid air. Every so often i'd catch movement out of the corner of my eye, a flash of dark against the white snow, but whenever I turned to look, there was nothing there. Around midday, I stopped to rest and have a quick lunch. That's when I heard the howl again, only this time it was closer and there was more than one. It sounded like two, maybe three voices echoing through the trees.

My instincts were screaming at me. Now I decided to forego any more stops and make a beeline for my truck. The daylight was fading as I entered a section of the forest that was denser than the rest. The trees here were older, their branches heavy with snow, creating an almost tunnel like effect over the narrow path. That's when I saw it. About fifty yards ahead, standing in the middle of the path was a figure. It was massive,

easily eight feet tall maybe more. It was covered in dark, matted hair, and its arms hung low, almost to its knees. I stopped dead in my tracks, gripping my rifle tightly. My mind raised. Was it a bear standing on its hind legs? But no bear is that tall and the shape was all wrong. Then it turned to look at me. Its face was a mix between human and ape, with deep set eyes that seemed to pierce right through me and stay tuned for more sasquatch ot to see We'll

be right back after these messages. We stood there staring at each other, neither of us moving easy now, I whispered, not sure if I was talking to it or myself. Slowly, I began to back away, keeping my eyes on the creature. It tilted its head slightly as if curious, then let out a low guttural sound, not quite a growl, but not friendly either. I took another step back, and that's when I heard movement behind me. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed two more figures emerging from the trees.

I was surrounded. Panic surged through me. I knew I couldn't outrun them, especially in this terrain. My only option was to stand my ground. I raised my rifle, not aiming directly at them, but ready to defend myself if necessary. Stay back, I shouted, my voice, echoing in the silent forest. The three creatures didn't advance, but they didn't retreat either. They just stood there, watching me with those intense eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, the one in front made a soft sound, almost like a huff, and turned to walk into the woods. The other two followed suit. Disappearing silently among the trees. I didn't waste a second. As soon as they were out of sight, I started moving again, faster this time, but careful not to make too much noise. With daylight fading, I knew I had to make it back to my truck before nightfall. The idea of being out here in the dark with those

things around was terrifying. I pushed myself hard, my legs burning, lungs aching from the cold air. I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting to see them following me, but the path remained clear. Just when I thought I was making progress, I came across something that stopped me cold, A makeshift barrier of broken branches and logs piled across the path. It hadn't been there on my way in. Are they trying to block me?

through some kind of territory marks by these creatures. I tried not to think about what the symbols meant, but the sense of urgency intensified. The sun was now a mere glow on the horizon, and shadows stretched long across the snow. I heard the howls again, this time from multiple directions. They were communicating, signaling to each other. The realization sent a jolt of fear through me. I broke into a run, my heavy backpack weighing me down. My breath came in gasps. At last, I saw the glint

of metal through the trees. My truck was just ahead. Relief washed over me, but it was short lived. Between me and the truck stood one of the creatures. It was the same one I'd seen earlier. I was sure of it. It stood there, almost as if waiting for me. I slowed my pace, not wanting to provoke it. My truck was only about one hundred feet away. Listen, I said aloud, I don't want any trouble. I'm leaving. The creature remained still watching me. I decided to take a

wide berth, moving slowly to the side. As I did, the creature mirrored my movement, keeping the distance constant. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. Then, in a sudden motion, it let out a loud whoop, a sound that echoed off the trees. From behind me, I heard responses. The others were closing in. Desperate I made a split second decision. I swung my rifle around and fired a shot into the air. The sound was deafening,

ringing in my ears. The creature flinched, its eyes widening. Taking advantage of its momentary hesitation, I sprinted toward the truck. The adrenaline overrode any exhaustion I felt. I reached the truck, yanked the door open, and slammed it shut behind me. Fumbling with trembling hands, I started the engine. As I pulled away, I looked back to see the creature standing at the edge of the clearing, watching me. The drive back to town was a blur. My mind raced with

what I'd just experienced. Part of me wondered if I'd imagined it, but the cut on my hand and the lingering fear told me. It was all too real. When I reached town, I went straight home. I didn't tell anyone about what happened, not that night anyway. Over the next few days, I tried to make sense of it. I considered reporting it to the authorities. But what would I say that I'd seen Bigfoot? They'd think I was crazy. I did some research, reading up on local legends and stories.

Turns out there have been sightings of similar creatures in Alaska for decades. Some call them the Hairy Man or the ur a Yulie. I spoke to a friend of mine, Bill, who's part Nate of Alaskan. I trusted him not to dismiss me outright after I recounted my experience, he nodded thoughtfully. My grandfather used to tell stories about them, he said, spirits of the Four Guardians. They don't like intruders. Do you believe it, I asked. He shrugged. I've never seen one,

but that doesn't mean they're not out there. It's been several months now and I still think about that encounter every day. I haven't been back to the wilderness since. The idea of going out there alone again fills me with a mix of fear, and sadness. I always considered the wilderness my second home, a place where I felt at peace. Now it's tainted by uncertainty. I'm sharing this story not to convince anyone of anything, but to get

it off my chest. Maybe someone else has had a similar experience and will feel less alone knowing they're not the only one. Thanks for listening, Brian. Keep doing what you're doing. Your podcast gives people like me a place to share without judgment. Best regards, Jake M. I've been a listener of your podcast for a while, and I always enjoy hearing other people's encounters with sasquat. I've never shared this story with anyone outside of my family, but

I feel like your audience might appreciate it. To be honest, I've kept this to myself for years because I didn't want people thinking I was crazy. But this happened, and it's something I still think about almost every day. It was in the summer of two thousand and three and I was twenty five at the time. My friends and I used to go camping a lot back then, but after this trip, I haven't spent another night in the woods,

and I probably never will. There were four of us, me, my best friend Eric, and two of his coworkers, Matt and Josh. We all lived in Seattle, and that summer we decided to take a long weekend to camp in the Cascade Mountains. Eric had picked the spot, a remote area about twenty miles outside of Leavenworth, far from any marked trails. We left early on a Friday morning, loaded up with all the usual gear, tents, sleeping bags, a couple of coolers, and enough food and beer to last

us the weekend. Drive out. There was beautiful mountains on one side, dense forest on the other. The plan was to hike about six miles into the woods to this secluded spot Eric had heard about from a coworker. By the time we got there and parked the car, it was mid afternoon. The hike in was tough, mostly uphill, with a couple of spots where we had to climb over fallen trees or cross streams on slippery rocks, But

the spot Eric picked was worth it. It was this small clearing surrounded by trees, with a little creek running nearby. You couldn't hear anything but the water and the wind and the trees. We set up camp, got a fire, going and spent the rest of the evening hanging out, telling stories and laughing. It was one of those perfect summer nights where everything feels calm and peaceful. I woke up sometime after midnight to the sound of movement outside

my tent. At first I thought it was just one of the guys getting up to pee, but then I realized the footsteps were too heavy. They had this deliberate, weighty sound, like someone big was walking around. I lay there for a minute, trying to convince myself it was just a deer or maybe a black bear. But then I heard a strange noise, this low guttural grunt, almost like a growl. It didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before. I peeked out of my tent, but it

was too dark to see anything. I could hear the sound of branches snapping, like whatever it was had moved back into the trees. The next morning, I asked if anyone else had heard it, but they all shrugged it off. Probably just a bear, Eric said, and I tried to let it go. The second day was hot and sunny, and we spent most of it exploring the area. We followed the creek up stream for a while looking for

good fishing spots. It was quiet, too quiet, actually. I kept expecting to hear birds or squirrels or something, but there was nothing. At one point, Matt found what he thought were bear tracks in the mud near the creek, but when I looked closer, they did looked like bear prints at all. They were too long, with what looked like toes. Maybe it's a big guy walking around barefoot,

Josh joked, but even he didn't look convinced. We headed back to camp in the late afternoon and spent the rest of the evening cooking over the fire and playing cards. The weirdness from earlier was already starting to fade from my mind until night came. That second night was when things got really creepy. I woke up again sometime in

the middle of the night. At first I thought it was the same thing as the night before, just some animal walking around, But this time the sounds were louder and closer, like whatever it was had come right into the camp. Then I heard the breathing. It was deep and heavy, like something massive was standing just outside my tent. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest. I didn't dare move or make a sound. After what felt like an eternity, I

heard it move away, heading toward the creek. I thought about waking the other but I didn't want to scare them or embarrass myself if it turned out to be nothing. The next morning, though, there was no denying that something had been there. When we got up, we found that the firewood we'd stacked up near the fire pit had been scattered all over the place. Some of the logs were tossed so far I couldn't imagine a person doing it,

let alone an animal. Then we found the footprints. They were massive and they had toes, just like the ones we'd seen by the creek. They led from the edge of the woods, through the camp and down to the water. Eric tried to play it off. Probably just some guy messing with us, he said, but he didn't sound convinced. I could tell Matt and Josh were freaked out, too, but none of us wanted to admit it. We just kept telling ourselves it was nothing and tried to enjoy

the rest of the day. By the time the sun started to set that night, the mood had changed. None of us were laughing or joking anymore. We all stayed close to the fire, and every little sound in the woods made us jump. It wasn't long before we started hearing the footsteps again. This time they were louder, heavier, and there was no doubt they were circling the camp. Then came the growl. It was low and guttural, like a deep rumble that you could feel in your chest.

It was coming from the trees, but we couldn't see anything. Eric grabbed a flashlight and shined it into the woods. For a second, I thought I saw something, two glowing eyes reflecting the light, but then it was gone. That's when the screaming started. It was the most terrifying sound I've ever heard. It was high pitched and primal, like a mix between a woman's scream and an animal's roar. It was so loud it echoed off the trees, and I felt like my whole body was vibrating. We all froze,

too scared to move. Then Matt whispered, what the hell is that? No one answered. We didn't sleep at all that night. Whatever it was stayed just out of sight, pacing around the edge of the camp and occasionally let it out. Those awful screams. By the time the sun came up, we'd had enough. We packed up our gear in record time and started hiking back to the car. None of us said much, we just wanted to get

the hell out of there. About halfway back we found more tracks, fresh ones heading in the same direction we were going. It was following us. That last mile was the longest of my life. Every time a branch snapped or a bird took off, I felt like my heart would stop. When we finally reached the car, I don't think I've ever felt so relieved. It's been twenty years since that trip, and I still don't know what we

encountered out there. I've read up on sasquatch and other cryptids, and I think that's the closest thing to what we saw or heard. Anyway, whatever it was, it was big, intelligent, and terrifying. I haven't been camping since, and I don't think I ever will. Thanks for letting me share this, Brian. It feels good to finally get it off my chest. Up the great work on the podcast. I think you're doing something really important by giving people like me a

place to share their stories. Sincerely, Kevin em Nunavik hunters run into rock throwing bigfoot creature. Harry Crookshank and his friends say they are the third Northern Quebec group within the last two years to spot a bigfoot creature. There was the nighttime sighting last month of a red eyed bigfoot mama and cub by cree hunters near Wamenji, and there was the sighting in Olivic last September by Harry Crookshank's sister Maggie Crookshank, who was picking berries when she

spotted a tall, hairy beast without any clothes. But unlike previous sightings, Harry Crookshank's bigfoot actually may have tried to convey a message to him and his friends. The message was stay away. The group of four men and one woman say they saw the creature October nineteenth. The weather was nice and everyone was hungry for country food, so they decided to go hunting for seal. The group traveled by motorized canoe to an area forty five minutes south

of Akulovic on Nunavik's Hudson Bay coast. After a short coffee break, they continued to a remote bay known to be a good spot for seal. Stay tuned for more sasquatch ott to see. We'll be right back after these messages. We all saw the unexpected something on a small hill. It was dark and we started staring at it, Crookshank said. We knew there was nobody up there because there were no other canoes and you can only reach that hunting area by canoe. The group decided to go after the creature.

They approached the area and climbed the small hill, but they found nothing. Then they spotted a caribou trail. We heard a strange noise up in the land, said Kruskshank, like the sound of something throwing rocks. Maybe the creature was trying to communicate with us, added Crookshank, But I don't know how to talk to the bigfoot. Still, the

hunting party tried to interpret the creature's movements. Speaking amongst themselves, they determined the animal was indeed a bigfoot, and that it was throwing rocks at them because it was angry. The bigfoot had been hunting the cariboo, Crookshank speculated, and his hunting party had interrupted the beast on its quest for food. Crookshank and his friends were hungry too, but they weren't about to try and shoot the bigfoot. They

were also craving caribou meat. The bigfoot is not food for us because it walks like a human with long, long arms, said Crookshank. We forgot about that beast because we really needed to have the country food. And so the bigfoot escaped into the wilderness, and Crookshank and his friends bagged the two caribou that they suspected the beast had been out hunting. This is actually not the first time Crookshank has seen a bigfoot. He first sighted the

creature back in July of nineteen ninety seven. Crookshank and his wife were traveling by canoe when she spotted something on the land. Harry, what is that, his wife cried, pointing to a dark, hairy creature. He stood up and started running, said Crookshank, very fast running. But when he told his story, the people of Akulovic didn't believe him.

I become quiet after that, said Crookshank. For more than fifteen years, no one in Akulovic saw Bigfoot, or at least no one in Akulovic spoke very loudly about seeing a Bigfoot. Then, late in the afternoon on a rainy, windy Saturday in September twenty twelve, Harry Crookshank's sister, Maggie Crookshank, spotted a big foot while out picking berries with her cousin. The creature was taller and larger than a man, Maggie Crookshank said at the time. It walks like us, but

not standing straight like us. It can jump and crawl, and its footprint measured some forty centimeters. Maggie Crookshank posted photos of the footprints on her Facebook page, which instantly drew numerous comments, but she still has not released a video she claims to have of the creature, which has drawn her some criticism. Unfortunately, her brother was not able to gather any hard evidence of the Bigfoot that he saw.

All of us forgot our cameras, said Crookshank. Clear and compelling documentation of Bigfoot has long been a goal of Bigfoot enthusiasts and researchers in the Western United States, where stories of the creature abound from the forests of Oregon and Washington to the canyons of Utah. In the US, people have set up motion sensor cameras and trekked deep

into the woods searching for Bigfoot. But one Utah based group called the Falcon Project has an ambitious new plan construct a remote controlled, helium filled airship, complete with high tech cameras and thermal imaging equipment, and take the search for Bigfoot to the skies. We spent forty years on the ground trying to film this creature, said project manager William Barnes. I decided the only way we can actually

study these creatures is from the air. Barnes, who had a life altering bigfoot sighting while prospecting for gold in California in the late nightnineteen nineties, where the creature came within just three feet of his tent, says the craft will cost approximately three hundred ten thousand dollars. We're still raising money, said Barnes, but once we get our money, we're going to be out there twenty four hours a day,

seven days a week. The group, which includes an Idaho State University anthropologist, world renowned tropical biologist and conservationist Ian Redmond, and an experienced wolf and mountain lion tracker named Jim Halfpenny, plans to search in Idaho Texas, West Virginia and British Columbia, but as of now, the Falcon Project has no plans to come to Nunavik. Back in Olivich, Harry Crookshank believes the creatures are here to stay, though he doesn't plan

to go out looking for one again anytime soon. I'm just going to leave it alone, said Crookshank, and only hunt for the real animals and not that kind of beast. There have been sightings before, added Eculivic mayor Henry Aleko, and he seemed to think there would be sightings again. It is some sort of mystery, said Alaiko. Nunavik woman follows cree man's big foot sighting with interest. On a recent night in Wamanje, a Cree community on James Bay,

Melvin George Kish spotted bigfoot. I was heading out for a little cruise and at kilometer six of the Wamanjee Road, I looked to the left and saw two sets of red eyes, said thirty six year old George Kish, who works with the Cree Nation of Wamanji. The following day, I went back there to check up on what I saw, continued George Kish. That's when I saw the footprints. I think it was a mother and her baby. The length

of the mother's footprint was about fourteen inches, he said. Later, in a different spot, George Kish found a footprint that was nineteen inches long, the father he suspected. George Kish posted photos of the footprints to his Facebook page. They show an area of stamp down moss in the shape of a gigantic foot. Comments from friends and family members poured in. Some reported possible sightings of their own. Others remarked on just what the siding might mean for George Kish.

You will be on TV, Melvin wrote Bradley, George Kish, you will be famous. One of the people who got wind of Melvin George Kish's story was Maggie Crookshank in the Nunavik community of a Kulovic, which lies about eight hundred kilometers north of Wamenji on Hudson Bay. It was just about a year ago that Crookshank saw her own bigfoot on a rainy afternoon while picking berries with her cousin. She described the creature as a very large, black, hairy

animal without any clothes. Even though almost a year has passed since her siding, Crookshank has been unable to stop thinking about the event. The same is true for other people in a Kulovic. Bigfoot has been sighted a few more times since we saw it, said Crookshank. There was a grandfather and grandson going to their camp and they saw Bigfoot there. I think they are living here, she added.

As for the million dollar question whether or not there was a connection between the recent sighting and the sightings in a Koulovic, Crookshank had a theory. There have been forest fires in Ontario. She said, that is what I blame. I think they are running from the fire. George Kish agreed. We had a huge forest fire just south of Womenji

this year, he pointed out. In fact, this fire season in Quebec was the most active since recording began back in the nineteen forties, said doctor Martin Girardin, a researcher with the Canadian Forest Service. Fires exploded across the province, including the six hundred thousand hectare East Main Fire, which was one of the top five largest fires in Canadian history. The community was evacuated and the one road into town was shut down because of the fire, leading to food shortages.

Birds and insects are indeed affected by fire, said Girardin, who pointed out that it's very difficult to study exactly how different species are affected by fire, but for very large animals like moose, I don't recall any research, he said. Girardin seemed taken aback by the question of whether or not there was a chance the fires could have flushed

out bigfoot. I don't know anything, he said. One of this past summer's fires was caused by a lightning strike that occurred near kilometer eighteen on the Wameni Access Road. According to a CBC story on the sighting from early July, that location is just twelve kilometers from where George Kish initially saw the bigfoot. Can there really be a connection between bigfoots and forest fires? According to the blog Bigfoot Evidence, which bills itself as the world's only twenty four to

seven bigfoot news blog. On August sixth, nineteen ninety nine, a massive forest fire occurred at Battle Mountain, Nevada. Apparently a bigfoot was injured in the blaze. I observed an animal wounded by fire moving on all fours. Not like a bear, more like an ape, reads a statement on the blog from an anonymous government employee. The animal was approximately seven and a half feet tall, with human like arms and hair covering most of its body except the

chest and palms. Approximately forty five percent of the creature's body was covered with burns. During the treatment of his wounds, the blog post continues, the patient communicated with moans, groans, and grumbling back in willmind you. George Kish said that unlike what earlier news stories reported, he is not scared of the bigfoot and has been able to sleep all right at night. When asked what he would do if he saw the beast again, he replied, I would just

leave it alone. But there is something George Kish is concerned about naysayers. Even my best friend didn't believe me at first, said George Kish, and some people on social media sites still don't believe him. I don't care to look at Facebook anymore, he said. Dealing with the non believers is something Crookshank is familiar with. She drew a great deal of criticism from people who were mad that

she didn't post a video of her bigfoot. People say mean things online, said Crookshank, but face to face they don't say those things. As for the video, she said, it is still with her friend. Some reporters have asked me to beg her for it, said Crookshank, But I don't want to beg for it. She will be ready when she is ready. Crookshank did have some advice for George Kishtaou. People will try to say it was just a rock, or it was just a polar bear, or it was just a moose, she said, But his eyes

are not lying to him. He is going to have to be strong. His story will be like a fire.

outside to take a picture of it. While walking around the back corner of the cabin powering up his camera, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed it had seen him in froze. He had to delete several pictures from his SD card in order to be able to take any pictures. Mister Hybrid managed to take two pictures, and while looking down at the camera, it disappeared, only to reappear fifteen minutes later at the woodpile. This creature was peeking at him from the tree line beside a path.

It was approximately ten plus feet tall and very massive in build The creature is roughly estimated to be twice the size of the witness. Three pictures were taken in all. The pictures were taken from the back of the cottage, looking up the hill from the top of the propane tank cabinet. This thing stood perfectly still for what seemed like five minutes. I turned my head for a split

second and it was gone. In the following weeks, the screens were pushed in or torn off some windows of the cabin The encounter was reported in New List Card on April twenty eighth, two thousand and nine. Three digitally transferred pictures were left with the officer, as well as a one page written report on the incident and the witness's phone number. The officer they spoke with found it hard to believe they were reporting it and asked, are

you serious about this and laughed. A game warden and several biologists attended the cabin and stayed several days, investigating and taking pictures of the area. They stayed on after the witnesses left. In twenty ten, the witnesses sold the cabin because the witness's wife was no longer comfortable and afraid to go there. They believed the cabin has since

been torn down previously. In the summer of two thousand and four, on another visit to their cabin, they were awoken at two am by what seemed like really deep penetrating ground thuds, like someone was picking up a huge boulder and was pounding on the ground. It shook the entire landscape. It went on for about twenty minutes and was very random, maybe ten or fifteen hits to the ground. It was very singular and deep, like a seismic thumper truck.

The last hit to the ground was followed by the sound of big trees cracking about one hundred and fifty yards out. The witness made coffee and stayed up till dawn that night. In two thousand and six, after lending a local friend and three others the cabin for hunting season, they reported two black or dark blue helicopters flying low and circling for several days and nights in the area. It was definitely not game people doing rabies cube drops.

This would have been fall two thousand and six. It is assumed they were looking for someone or something, and that was also the first year in many that no one received a moose tag to his knowledge. In two thousand and seven, there were three large boulders put on the road at the bottom of the hill as you come into the top of lake. It looked like they

were rolled down the hill and placed there. Two of the boulders came up to the door of the truck, one was the height of the bumper, and one of them was still there in twenty ten, because people began to just drive around it. Brownville Bigfoot Road crossing way out in the woods in the New Jersey Pine barrens, and wife who didn't want to share her name, spotted something they couldn't explain. The woman claims she saw bigfoot. Whatever this was had literally leaped across the entire road.

It was about six feet tall, like a light colored hair like a deer. But I'm like it certainly wasn't a deer because it had its legs splayed and it almost looked like a ballerina leaping across the road, said the woman. It was off road near Brown's Mills. She says she saw the man beast in the rearview mirror. She was always a skeptic, but no more like even to this day, I am still trying to process exactly what it was that I saw. It's just hard for me to fathom it, I guess you could say, the

woman stated. They told Eric Spinner immediately, the New Jersey representative for the National Bigfoot Field Research Organization, displayed a big Foot footprint casting he said he found in New Jersey. Fox twenty nine's Hank Flynn asked, do you consider this credible? I do for a couple of reasons. Not only is it uncommon for somebody to report seeing it in their rear view mirror, as she did, but also because they

weren't out there looking for Bigfoot. They were just out enjoying a nice day out in the woods with the dog four wheeling out in the woods, and this happened. Spinner explained. The pines offer food, water, and wilderness enough to hide in the same traits as other places with reported sightings. The number of New Jersey sidings might be

a surprise. Dozens of sightings over the years. There are reports that come into our website, into our database that aren't even on our actual sighting database because they're either still being investigated or deemed as being either hoaxes or unreportable. Spinner said, they call it big Red Eye in North Jersey. Some in South Jersey think they're seeing the Jersey Devil. Either way, the legend is alive and well. Dave's wife

was skeptical, but seeing is believing. The Winsted wild Man, Connecticut's own unofficial Bigfoot legend, the story of a large, hairy creature that terrorized the locals on two separate occasions, almost eighty years apart. You know if you believe the stories. The tale supposedly starts in August eighteen ninety five, when the Winstead Herald reported a large man, stark, naked and covered with hair all over his body, ran out of

a clump of bushes. It was witnessed by town selectman Riley Smith, who was out in the woods with his bulldog, merrily picking berries and minding his own business when the creature came along, causing Riley to be badly scared and his dog was fairly paralyzed with fear. He described it as a wild, hairy man of the woods, six feet in height, and adding that the man's hair was black and hung down long on his shoulders, and that his

body was thickly covered with black hair. The man was remarkably agile, and to all appearance, was a muscular, brawny man, a man against whom any ordinary man would stand little chance. Over the next few weeks, the wild man was purportedly seen by at least two other witnesses whose descriptions matched Smith's. The Winstead Herald speculated that the wild man may have been Arthur beck With with an escaped mental patient from the

nearby Litchfield Sanitarium. The sighting soon stopped as suddenly as they had started, and the Winstead wild Man disappeared back into the woods and was forgotten about for a while. Anyway.

Almost eight decades later, the wild man reappeared. In late July nineteen seventy two, the Hartford Current reported that a strange manlike creature was observed by two young men on Winchester Road, near to Crystal Lake, reservoir at a long distance near a barn, they saw a figure about eight feet tall and covered with hair, that walked upright and finally disappeared into the woods. When it was suggested that what they may have seen was a black bear, they

replied that it was no bear. Two years later, in September nineteen seventy four, the wild man was seen again, this time by two couples who had been parked at night by Ruggbrook Reservoir. They described to police being terrified by seeing a six foot three hundred pound creature covered with dark colored hair in the moonlight, and had fled the area immediately. The police went back to search and

were unable to find any tracks or evidence. Since then, there have been no other reports or accounts of the Winsted wild Man. So what did witnesses see? If anything, A bear, a big foot, an escaped mental patient or was it all just a hoax? A nicely researched investigative peace by Brandon T. Biscalia of the Hartford Skepticism Examiner,

shed a bit more light on the story. It suggested that the original report may have been fabricated or greatly embellished by Lewis Timothy Stone, the editor of the Winstead Herald, and in order to create a sensation to help sell papers, a common practice at the time, Stone was known for creating fantastic stories ramatically exaggerating actual ones, especially tales involving unusual creatures. The Winstead wild Man certainly fits the bill.

The Examiner article also looks at the events from the nineteen seventies, a decade where bigfoot stories were at their apex, so to speak, and a time when the idea of a large, hairy primate like creatures hiding in the woods of North America was certainly in the national consciousness. It's easy to see how someone may have seen a black bear which were just returning to the region at night, and in their panic, might have mistaken it for the

legendary sasquatch. The power of suggestion right. It's reminiscent of the glouccus, which in all likelihood was a fisher cat, but was greatly exaggerated when the locals weren't used to seeing the then odd creature in the area.