SO EP:552 Bigfoot Encounters

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Assuming it was a deer, he slowed down, and as he got closer, however, he realized it was something much larger and darker than a deer. By this point, he had slowed his truck to around thirty miles per hour and was still several hundred feet from the creature. As he approached, he got a better look and described it as resembling a very large, dark wolf. The startling detail it wasn't on all fours, but standing upright on its

back legs next to a road killed deer. He estimated the creature stood over six feet tall with very dark fur that seemed almost black. Curious and confused, he slowed his truck to a stop. The creature hadn't moved an inch and was still staring directly at him. For a brief moment, he thought it might be some kind of prank, maybe a giant stuffed animal someone had placed by the road. It was so still and unusual that he couldn't imagine

it being real. But just as he had that thought, the creature suddenly dropped down onto all fours and sprinted across the road into the woods with incredible speed. He sat frozen in his truck for a few moments, trying to process what had just happened. He admitted he wasn't sure what to make of it, but he was certain of one thing. It was real. When asked if he had been drinking that night, he firmly denied it, saying no,

whatever that was, it was for real. Although he was extremely curious, he didn't dare wander into the woods to investigate. Using a flashlight from the safety of his truck, he spotted tracks leading into the forest on the opposite side of the road. Luckily, he had his digital camera with him and managed to snap a photo of one of the prints. He later showed the picture to a friend, explaining that the pawprint measured around seven or eight inches long.

He even placed a shotgun shell next to the print for scale. In another photo, he explained that he only ventured a couple of steps from his truck to take the pictures, unwilling to go any further. The soft roadside mud had preserved the tracks clearly, but he wasn't about to risk stepping into the woods alone at night. When asked if it could have been a bear, he dismissed the idea immediately. He's an experienced bear hunter and has

spent years hunting in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. He knows what a bear looks like up close, and this was definitely not a bear. That's his story. He left it up to me whether to believe it or not. But knowing him and seeing the photos, I have no reason to doubt him. I've heard the stories and the legends about creatures like this, and I always thought they were just for entertainment. But after hearing what he experienced, I'm starting

to see things in a different light. I've got a story for your listeners that's as bizarre as it is fascinating. It all started back in nineteen seventy four in the Lost Creek Canyon area, when two young boys, the McBride brothers, reported seeing a sasquatch like creature on an old hog farm. Their story sparked ridicule from locals, but The details they shared have puzzled people ever since. The McBride boys described

the creature as massive, standing about nine feet tall. What made their account even stranger was the blue belt the creature was wearing, a detail no one had heard before. One of the brothers claimed to have seen the creature on the farm itself, while the other glimpsed it as it ran off into the woods, carrying a pig under its arm. The ridicule didn't stop other strange reports from emerging. A few weeks later, two teenagers came forward with their

own encounter. They were parked in Plumb Canyon, a popular spot for young couples, when they claimed the creature approached their car in the moonlight. The teen saw its face, hair covered with a bullet shaped head, and it was towering between nine and ten feet tall. The young girl screamed when she locked eyes with it, and the creature quickly ran off. By August of that year, local curiosity was high, and a man named Bob Karrossi decided to investigate.

He went out to the area where the teens had been parked and discovered a footprint. The print was odd, about ten inches long and six inch wide. Some skeptics dismissed it as too small for a sasquatch, but others argued that creatures like humans very in size depending on age, gender, and build. One local woman, missus Adel Childress, believed the McBride boys and was particularly intrigued by the detail of

the blue belt. A member of a local group that investigated unusual reports, she reached out to the family and other witnesses to gather more information. What followed was a series of strange events that left her questioning everything she thought she knew. Here's missus Childress's story in her own words from her journal. It was October nineteen seventy four. I had just gotten my son off to school when my husband Frank showed me an article in the Saugust

New Hall Signal. The headline read does Bigfoot roam the Santa Clarita Valley. It was about the McBride boys and their sighting of a strange creature running off with a pig under its arm. As a member of a local club that in instigates reports like these, I decided to look into it. I contacted the owners of the hog farm where the sighting happened and spoke with the boys. Only one of them had seen the creature on the farm itself, while the other caught a glimpse of it

as it ran off. What really caught my attention was the glowing blue belt they both described. I reported my findings back to the group, but none of us had ever heard of such a detail before. It was completely new. After sharing the story with our group, I decided to issue a statement to the signal, hoping someone else might come forward with more information. Of course, the statement brought

its share of jokes. My neighbors teased me, and Frank couldn't stop calling the whole thing a bunch of hogwash. My kids, though, took it more seriously. They heard stories from school friends whose families owned farms near the McBride's, and some of them shared similar tales. These stories were never reported publicly, likely out of fear of being laughed at. A Few weeks later, I got a call from a couple who said that they had seen a UFO near

a place called Texas Canyon. They described the object as disc shaped, hovering silently over the tree tops. The sighting was unsettling enough on its own, but the timing felt connected somehow, as if the area was experiencing a wave of strange activity. That period in nineteen seventy four was

full of incidents that seemed to defy explanation. Looking back, I still can't say for sure what the McBride boys saw, but I believe them the detail of the blue belt was too specific to be fabricated, and their fear was real. Whatever it was they encountered, it left a mark on our community and on everyone who tried to make sense of it. This story raises more questions than it answers. What was the significance of the blue belt? Was it something the creature had found or part of some unknown

context we can't understand? And what about the footprint? Could it belong to a younger or smaller individual of the same species. I hope your listeners find this story as fascinating as I do. It's a reminder that the world is full of mysteries, and sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. A friend of the truth, my name's Jeff Smith, and I wanted to share an experience that my friends and I had in the Huachuka Mountains of Cochise County, Arizona.

It's an encounter I think about often and Even years later, I'm still trying to process what happened. It all began during the summer of two thousand and three. Two friends and I had planned a weekend hiking and camping trip. The wildfires that year were bad and much of the area was off limits, so our usual plans were out the window. We had wanted to head up Carr Canyon, but it was closed. After some discussion and pouring over

our map, we decided to try Miller Canyon instead. It was a bit further out and not as developed, but we figured it would be worth it. The drive out there was uneventful. The desert gave way to the rolling foothills and eventually the dense, pine covered peaks of the Wachukas. These mountains are known for their rugged beauty, but also for their remoteness. It's the kind of place where you can hike for miles and never see another soul. That

solitude was part of the appeal for us. After bouncing along the dirt road for what felt like forever, we finally found a spot to set up camp. It was an ideal about twenty yards off the road, but we didn't see any other cars or campers, so we figured we'd have the area to ourselves. We pitched our small, dome style tent and settled in for the night. The sky was clear and filled with stars, and the moon

was so bright it cast shadows on the ground. It was the kind of night that makes you appreciate being out in nature, away from the noise and stress of everyday life. Little did we know that tranquility wouldn't last. Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up to my friend yelling. At first, I was groggy and disoriented, but his voice was urgent, almost panicked. I sat up in my sleeping bag and asked him what was going on. He was sitting upright, his face pale in the dim light.

I just saw bigfoot, he said. I wanted to laugh it off, who wouldn't, But the look on his face stopped me. He wasn't joking. My friend was a pretty laid back guy, not someone who spooped easily, and he looked genuinely terrified. He explained what happened. I woke up and looked up through the mesh of the tent roof. He said, the moon was bright and I saw something standing over us. At first I thought it was a person. But then I realized how big it was. It had

to be at least eight feet tall, maybe more. Its head was long, and it didn't really have a neck. Its head just kind of merged with its shoulders. It was leaning forward, looking straight through the mesh at me. I could see the silhouette perfectly against the moonlight. Its eyes. I swear I could see the whites of its eyes. We just stared at each other. It felt like forever, but it was probably thirty seconds. Then it moved away, and that's when I yelled. As he talked, I felt

a chill run down my spine. I glanced at our other friend, who had woken up by then, and he looked just as unsettled. None of us dared to leave the tent to investigate. We stayed up the rest of the night, listening every sound. The rustle of leaves, the crack of a branch made us jump, but the creature didn't come back, at least as far as we could tell. The next morning, we packed up and left as quickly as we could. The whole drive back, my friend kept

replaying what he'd seen. He wasn't the type to make things up, and I trusted him completely. I still do whatever he saw that night, he believed it was real, and honestly, so do I. This wasn't my only brush with the unexplained. A few years later, I was hiking alone in the Wasatch Mountains of Utah, bush whacking through an aspen grove out of nowhere. I got this distinct feeling of being watched. It wasn't just paranoia. It was almost tangible, like someone's eyes were boring into me. I

stopped and looked around, but there was nothing. The feeling didn't go away, though, so I started singing out loud to calm my nerves. I've been alone in the woods plenty of times before, but this was different. I didn't realize it at the time, but I've since learned that this feeling of being watched is a common phenomenon among people who encounter sasquatch. Looking back, I wonder if something was there just out of sight. If I'd been more aware of the reports in that area, I might have

been more vigilant. Since these experiences, I've thrown myself into learning more about Bigfoot and similar encounters. I'm hoping to have another experience, and I want to understand what these creatures are why they seem so elusive and what their presence means. Thanks for giving me a chance to share my story. I hope it resonates with your audience, and stay tuned for more sasquatch O got to see. We'll be right back after these messages.

from work and just needed some peace and quiet. The cabin was pretty remote, no neighbors, no Wi Fi, barely any cell service, just a cozy little place tucked into the trees with a creek running nearby. It was exactly what I needed. The first couple of days were blissful. I read books, cooked simple meals, and hiked the trails around the area. I'd sit out on the porch in the evenings with a cup of tea and just listen to the sounds of the forest. It was so relaxing.

But on the third night things started to get weird. I was sitting on the porch around nine pm. It was dark, but not pitch black because the moon was nearly full. I remember the forest seemed unusually quiet, no crickets or frogs, just the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. I chalked it up to the cool temperature. Then, from somewhere down near the creek, I heard this low, rumbling sound. At first, I thought it was just the water, but it kept growing louder and deeper, almost like a growl.

It didn't sound like any animal I've ever heard, and I grew up camping and hiking, so I've heard my fair share of wildlife. I stood up and shined my flashlight in the direction of the noise, but I couldn't see anything. Still, something about that sound made my skin crawl, and I decided it was best to head inside and lock the door. I didn't sleep well that night. I kept waking up to what sounded like footsteps crunching on the gravel around the cabin. Every time I got up

to check. Though I couldn't see anything outside. It was unnerving, but I convinced myself it was just my imagination or maybe a deer wandering around. The Next day, I decided to stay close to the cabin. I spent the morning reading on the porch, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Have you ever had that sensation like someone's eyes are on you, but you can't see them. That's exactly how I felt. Around noon, I walked down to the creek to fill up my water bottle.

The water was crystal clear and cold, and the sound of it flowing was soothing. But as I knelt down to fill my bottle, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Across the creek, maybe thirty or forty yards away, there was this huge, dark figure standing partially hidden behind a tree. It was tall, at least seven feet, and its body was massive, covered in dark brown hair. My heart nearly stopped. I froze, unsure of what to do. It didn't move, but I could tell

it was watching me. I could see its face clearly enough to know it wasn't a bear. Its features were more human like, with deep set eyes, and a broad, flat nose. I don't know how long we stood there staring at each other. It felt like an eternity, but it was probably only twenty or thirty seconds. Then it made this low guttural sound, almost like a grunt, and stepped back into the trees. I didn't stick around to

see where it went. I grabbed my water bottle and bolted back to the cabin, locking the door behind me. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely turn the lock. For the rest of the day, I stayed inside with the curtains drawn. I couldn't stop replaying what I'd seen in my head. Part of me wanted to pack up and leave, but it was late in the day and I wasn't sure I could make it back to town before dark. That night was even worse than

the one before. Around midnight, I woke up to the sound of something heavy thudding against the side of the cabin. It was loud, like someone was throwing rocks or hitting the.

Whatever it was stayed outside for hours. I could hear it moving around, sometimes knocking on the walls, other times making that same deep rumbling sound i'd heard the night before. By dawn, the noises had stopped and the forest was eerily quiet again. I didn't waste any time packing up. I threw my stuff into the car and got out of there as fast as I could. Even now, months later, I can't explain what I saw and heard during those

two nights. I've tried telling myself it was just a bear or some other animal, but deep down I know that's not true. Whatever it was, it wasn't like anything I've ever encountered before. Thanks for letting me share my story. It feels good to finally get it off my chest. Keep up the great work on the podcast. I'll be listening best, Sarah. I've been listening to your show for a while, and I think it's awesome how you give

people a space to share these experiences. I've gone back and forth about sending this in, but I figure it's time to put it out there. This happened to me and my cousin about two years ago during a fishing trip in northern Minnesota. Every summer, my cousin Josh, and I take a week off to fish at this spot near the Boundary Waters. It's way out in the middle of nowhere. No cabins, no people, just miles of forest and lakes. We love it because it's so remote and

the fishing is unbeatable. We usually set up camp by a lake that's about a three mile hike from where we park the truck. We bring everything we need for the week and just enjoy being off the grid. This particular trip started out like any other. The weather was perfect and we were catching plenty of fish. On the third night, after a long day on the water, we were sitting around the campfire just talking and roasting some hot dogs. It was a clear night and the stars

were incredible. We had a couple of beers and we're just about ready to call it a night when we heard something that made both of us stop mid conversation. It was a loud, almost whooping sound coming from deep in the woods. It didn't sound like any animal we knew of, more like a mix between a howl and a yell. It carried on for several seconds, then stopped. Josh looked at me and said, what the hell was that.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but I could tell he was freaked out, and honestly I was too. We listened for a while, but everything went quiet again. Eventually we decided it was probably just some animal and went to bed. The next morning, we were up early and back out on the lake. Everything seemed normal and we didn't think much about the weird noise from the night before, But when we got back to camp that evening, something was off. For starters, our campsite looked different. Some

of our gear had been moved around. The cooler we'd left by the fire pit was now tipped over near the edge of the woods, and the lid was open. At first, we thought maybe a bear had gotten into it, but all the food was still inside. The strangest thing was that one of our fishing poles, which we'd left leaning against a tree, was now lying in the middle of the clearing, snapped in half. Josh joked that maybe Bigfoot had decided to do some fishing, but I could

tell he was uneasy. I was too. We cleaned up the mess, got the fire going, and tried to shake it off. That night, things got a lot weirder. We just climbed into our tents when we heard heavy footsteps coming from the woods behind us. Whatever it was sounded big, like a person or a large animal, but heavier than anything I'd expect to be out there. Josh unzipped his tent and stuck his head out. Did you hear that?

He whispered, Yeah, I said, grabbing my flashlight. We both stepped out of our tents and shined our lights toward the sound. At first, we didn't see anything, but then I caught movement near the tree line. Something huge and dark was standing there, just beyond the reach of our lights. I couldn't make out much detail, but I could tell it wasn't a bear. It was standing upright and its shoulders were massive. I felt frozen, like my brain couldn't

process what I was looking at. Then it led out this low, growling sound that sent chills down my spine. Josh grabbed my arm and whispered, we need to get back in the tents now. We scrambled inside and zipped up our hearts pounding. The footsteps continued for what felt like hours, circling the camp site. At one point we heard something brush against the side of my tent. I held my breath, terrified it was going to try to

get inside, but it eventually moved away. By morning, it was quiet again, but neither of us had slept much. We packed up camp as fast as we could and hiked back to the truck, constantly looking over our shoulders. We didn't talk much on the drive home. I think we were both trying to make sense of what had happened. Josh hasn't mentioned it since. Honestly, I haven't brought it up either. I'm not sure what we saw or heard

that night, but I know it wasn't normal. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, but hearing other people's stories has made me feel a little less crazy. Keep up the good work with the podcast. It's helping people like me feel less alone. Dan Hi, Brian, I've been listening to your podcast for a while now and finally worked up the nerve to share what happened to me and my family. This took place back in nineteen

ninety three on our family farm in rural Alabama. I've never told this story to anyone outside the family, but after hearing other folks share their experiences, I figured maybe it's time I let this out. I grew up on a small hog farm that had been in our family for generations. My parents, my older brother Eli, and I

worked that farm day in and day out. It was hard work, but I loved it, especially the quiet nights, when the whole place seemed to hum with the sounds of nature, the croak of frogs, the chirp of crickets, and the occasional grunt from the hogs in their pins. But in the summer of ninety three, that peace was shattered. It started small. The first thing I noticed was the unease in the animals. The hogs were restless, pacing and snorting,

like something had them on edge. At first, we thought it might be coyotes prowling nearby, but there were no signs of them, no tracks, no howling at night. Still the unease grew. A week later, I found the chicken coop door torn clean off its hinges. The strange thing was no chickens were missing. It was like something had ripped the door off just to scare them or us. Eli tried to brush it off, saying it was probably a stray dog or maybe even a black bear, but

I wasn't so sure. We didn't have many bears in our area, and besides, what kind of animal goes through the trouble of ripping off a door but doesn't take any of the birds. The next few nights were tense. I kept waking up to strange noises outside, shaping sounds, heavy footsteps, even low growls that made my chest tighten. One night, I swore I heard something sniffing around the outside of my bedroom window. I was too scared to look.

Things escalated one night in late July. It was sweltering hot, and Eli and I were sitting on the porch trying to catch a breeze. The hogs were making a racket in their pen, a mix of squealing and snorting that put us both on edge. Eli grabbed the shotgun and muttered something about going to check it out. I followed him carrying a flashlight. As we got closer to the pin, the smell hit me first, a rank, musky odor like a wet dog and rotting meat. We stopped dead in

our tracks. When we saw the pin, the door had been ripped off. The heavy metal hinges twisted like they were made of tinfoil. The hogs were all pressed into one corner, squealing in terror. That's when we saw it, standing in the middle of the pen, holding one of our largest hogs in its arms. Was a creature I'll never forget as long as I live. It was tall, easily seven feet and covered in dark, matted fur. Its body was muscular, but what struck me most was its face.

It looked like a wolf, but more human somehow, with a long snout, sharp teeth, and glowing amber eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. It didn't run when it saw us. It just stared at us for a moment, almost like it was sizing us up. Then it let out this low, guttural growl that made every hair on my body stand on end. Eli raised the shotgun, but before he could fire, the creature turned and leapt over the fence with the hog still in its arms. I

swear it cleared that fence like it was nothing. We watched frozen as it disappeared into the woods, carrying the three hundred pound hog like it weighed nothing. We didn't sleep that night. We stayed up pacing the house, shotgun loaded and ready, but the creature didn't come back, not that night anyway. The next morning we found tracks leading from the pen into the woods. They were huge, larger than any dog or wolf tracks I'd ever seen, and

they had distinct claw marks. We followed them for a while, but they disappeared into a thick patch of underbrush. After that, the activity stopped, The animals calmed down, and the strange noises at night ceased. But the memory of that thing, its glowing eyes, its sheer strength, stayed with me to this day. I don't know what we saw. Some people say it was a werewolf or a dog man, but I don't know if those labels even matter. What I do know is that it wasn't a natural animal, and

it wasn't something I ever wanted to encounter again. Thanks for letting me share this. It's been years, but writing it down has brought back all the fear and wonder of that night. I don't expect anyone to believe me, but for those who've seen things they can't explain, I hope this story brings them some comfort. Take care, Sam Hey, Brian, I think enough time has passed now that I can talk about what happened to me all those years ago. It's been over four decades, but I still remember every

detail like it happened yesterday. It was the summer of nineteen seventy eight. I was nineteen and working for the Forest Service as part of a seasonal trail crew in the Olympic National Forest in Washington. The job was physically demanding, but I loved being out in the wilderness, surrounded by towering trees and the endless green of the Pacific Northwest. That summer, my crew was assigned to clear and repair a remote section of trail deep in the back country.

We were a small team, just me, our crew lead, Mike, and another guy named Donnie. We hiked in with our tools and supplies, set up a base camp, and spend our days cutting back overgrowth, repairing bridges, and clearing fallen trees. One evening, after a long day of work, we were sitting around the campfire. The sun had set and the forest was growing dark. Stay tuned for more Sasquatch out

to see. We'll be right back after these messages. The Olympic Wilderness is dense, and at night it feels like the trees close in around you. We were joking around eating our freeze dried meals when we heard it, a scream, loud and guttural, echoing through the trees. It didn't sound human, but it didn't sound like any animal I'd ever heard either. It started low, almost like a growl, and then rose into a high pitched whale that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. We all froze. Mike,

who was usually unshakable, looked pale. Donnie said something about cougars, but I could tell he didn't believe that anymore than I did. Cougars scream, sure, but this wasn't a cougar. We sat there in silence, listening, but the forest had gone deathly quiet. No insects, no wind, just an oppressive stillness that made me feel like we were being watched. We eventually went to bed, but none of us slept well. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves outside

the tent made my heart race. The next morning, we found something that made the night even stranger. About fifty yards from our camp, there were footprints in the dirt, huge footprints. Easily twice the size of my boot. They were deep, like something heavy had pressed into the ground, and they had an oddly human shape, except for the toes, which were much wider and longer. Mike tried to dismiss it, saying it could have been an old prank or some

sort of natural phenomenon, but there was no way. We were miles from the nearest road or trailhead and nobody knew we were there. That night, things escalated. We were sitting around the fire again when the same scream echoed through the trees, louder and closer than the night before. Donnie stood up, gripping his hatchet and started shining his

flashlight into the woods. That's when we saw it. At the edge of the firelight, maybe thirty yards away, a massive figure was standing just beyond the reach of the flames. It was huge, at least eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and long arms. Its body was covered in dark, matted hair, and its eyes reflected the light like two glowing embers. It didn't move at first, just stood there watching us. Then it let out a low, guttural growl and took a step forward. Mike yelled for us to

get into the tent, but none of us moved. We were frozen in place, staring at this thing. As it came closer, I could feel the ground vibrate with each step. Finally, Mike grabbed a burning log from the fire and waved it in the air, shouting. The creature stopped, tilted its head, and let out another scream, this one so loud it felt like the sound went straight through me. Then it turned and disappeared into the darkness. We didn't sleep at all that night. We kept the fire burning and took

turns keeping watch, but the creature didn't come back. The next morning, we packed up camp and hiked out as fast as we could. The entire way, I felt like we were being followed, but every time I looked over my shoulder, there was nothing there. When we got back to the ranger station, we told our supervisor what had happened. He listened, then told us to forget about it. You saw a bear, he said, But the look in his eyes told me he didn't believe that. To this day,

I don't know what we encountered out there. I've heard stories about sasquatch, but seeing something like that with my own eyes is a different experience entirely. It wasn't just the size or the scream that scared me. It was the intelligence, the way it watched us, the way it seemed to know we didn't belong there. Even now, I avoid talking about it. Most people wouldn't believe me, and honestly, I wouldn't blame them. But for those of us who've

experienced something like this, we know the truth. I hope me sharing what happened to me adds to the conversation and maybe one day we'll get some answers on what these things are. Thanks for all you do, Ken. What happened to me and my best friend back in nineteen eighty six is something I'll never forget, and it changed the course of my life. I grew up in rural Georgia, where the woods were as much a part of my life as my own. Backyard hunting wasn't just a pastime,

it was a tradition, a way of life. My dad taught me how to track deer and hunt coons when I was barely big enough to carry a flashlight, and by the time I was a teenager, I could navigate those woods blindfolded. My best friend, Billy and I spent countless nights out in the woods coon hunting with our dogs. We knew every trail, creek, and holler on that land and it always felt like a second home. We'd hunted

those woods for years without any trouble. Sure we'd hear the occasional coyote or see the shadow of a black bear, but nothing out of the ordinary that fall. The season was shaping up to be like any other. We had three good hounds, Rex, Duke and Sally, who lived for the chase. They were well trained, reliable, and fearless. The night it all happened started like any other. It was early November, cool but not cold, with a clear sky

full of stars, perfect hunting weather. Billy and I loaded the dogs into his old truck and drove out to a stretch of land owned by a family friend. It was a big property, mostly pine forest, with a few hardwood bottoms and a creek running through it. We'd hunted there more times than I could count, and I always felt comfortable in those woods. We parked by the edge of the property and let the dogs out. They took off into the trees, eager to pick up a scent.

Billy and I followed with our flashlights and rifles, listening to their barks echo through the night. There's a rhythm to coon hunting. The dogs take the lead and you follow their sounds, waiting for them to tree something. It's peaceful in its own way, a connection to the land and the animals. That night, though, something felt off. The dogs picked up a trail and took off, barking like crazy, but after a while their voices went silent. That never happened.

They were trained to stay vocal when they were on a trail, so when we couldn't hear them anymore, we knew something was wrong. We called for them, and after a few minutes Rex and Sally came back, but they weren't their usual selves. Their tails were tucked and they were whining like they were scared of something. These were dogs that had faced down raccoons, wild hogs, and even the occasional coyote without flinching, but now they looked terrified.

Duke didn't come back. We kept calling for him, but the woods stayed quiet except for the crunch of our boots on the leaves. That's when we heard it, heavy footsteps in the distance. Whatever it was, it was big. You can tell a lot from the sound of movement in the woods, and this wasn't a deer or a raccoon. The steps were slow and deliberate, and they sounded like they were following us. Billy and I shined are our flashlights into the trees, but we couldn't see anything. The

footsteps stopped and the woods went dead silent. No crickets, no wind, just an oppressive, heavy stillness. We decided to head toward the creek, thinking Duke might be down there. When we got to the water, we found him, but not the way we'd hoped. Duke was lying in the mud, his body still and his head crushed like someone had slammed it against a rock. I felt a wave of sickness wash over me. I'd seen dead animals before, but this was different. This was brutal. We didn't say much.

Billy picked up Duke's body and we started back toward the truck. Rex and Sally stayed close to us, their tails still tucked and their ears pinned back. As we walked, we heard the footsteps again, this time closer. They seemed to be following us, staying just out of sight. The smell hit us next a rank musky odor. It was so strong it made my stomach churn. When we finally got back to the truck, we loaded Rex and Sally into the cab and placed Duke's body in the bed.

As Billy shut the tailgate, the headlights lit up the tree line, and that's when we saw it. Standing just beyond the trees was a figure I'll never forget. It was massive, at least eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and long arms. Its body was covered in dark hair, and its face looked almost human, but with features that reminded me of an ape. The eyes glowed red in the light, and it just stood there watching us. We

didn't move, it didn't either. For what felt like an eternity, we stared at each other, and then it turned and walked back into the woods. We didn't stick around to see if it would come back. Billy climbed into the driver's seat and I jumped in beside him. We drove out of there as fast as we could, not saying a word until we were miles away. Billy never went hunting again after that night. He sold his dogs in

gear and refused to talk about what we'd seen. As for me, I've only been hunting a handful of times since, and I can't say I've ever felt comfortable in the woods again. That night haunted me for years. I couldn't shake the image of that thing standing in the tree line, or the sound of those heavy footsteps following us. I started looking for answers, trying to make sense of what we'd experienced. I got into podcasts like yours, listening to

other people's encounters and realizing I wasn't alone. I've read every book I could find on sasquatch and watched countless documentaries. It's become almost an obsession, not just to understand what these creatures are, but to have another encounter, one that doesn't end in violence. I still go out into the woods, sometimes not to hunt, but to listen and observe. I've heard strange howls and whoops at night, sounds that send a chill down my spine but also fill me with

a sense of awe. I don't know if I'll ever see another one of these creatures, but part of me hopes I do. It means a lot to know there are others out there who've experienced the same thing and are searching for answers. Take care and happy holidays to you and your family.