Well, those flags. Shirt has taken a beaten, hasn't it. Almost wonder if this thing should be hung upside down right now of what's going on in my country, I felt. I fished all day. I got up to five, and I literally fished non stop until I got up five, got fuel, droving over an hour and back to bed. Went to one spot kind of sucked. I went up another spot where the falls are kind a couple of shoat how to steel head on, didn't stop once, didn't
sit I once. I'm feeling pretty done. It's three thirty and I was I would have stopped and got some shares up, but I spent basically my whole day at the waterfalls there, and they're just way too loud for the camera. So I'm here, I'm stopping. I'm just starting to leave, but I'm I don't know about sixty five clowns from home. I knows a hurt elk down there behind me somewhere, so it we'll see if they come
up. What else did I do? It's funny. Notice every time I go out in the woods, you always come across for somebody chopped firewood, and they never take it all. I used to say to myself, why haven't you going looked for firewood? I could just freaking drive round and toss the leftovers incase somebody left three four four mature bone dry for rounds on the ground right over there. It was all I could do. I used to go out reckon split my draining half. I think getting these suckers in the
chocolate show you a big there. I got him in. I wasn't leave without me. I've on a couple of bonus cedar rounds too. These things were freaking heavy. Watch that one. But I put one of the smaller ones on the ground and I flipped that one on top of the first, and then I started building up the bottom, putting bark underneath, rocking back and forth and building high and high until I get the edge on the box. I lift it up and threw it in. It doesn't look like it,
but all that's a pile of deadly firewood. Could live score. Yeah, I guess voice is heard from right here with my broken flag. It's a broken country. Huh. Quick message to all you law enforcement military out there that falls chiel. I know there's a bunch of you. You've emailed me in the past. I understand the majority of you or terrified losing a paycheck. I'll tell you what. Can you imagine what the grandparents you're thinking
right now? After the display yesterday in Canada, in the past couple of weeks, can you imagine many many police officers were voicing it support, reminding the country that they took an oath to our whipholder. I'll polled our Charter of rights, which they didn't majority of them didn't. Failed. Is that brutal? They failed? They failed. They took an oath and they failed. As basically makes you the poster person of a loser. I guess you gotta be in a fight to be a winner. Loser though, right,
gott to be in the fight. It's pretty pretty nasty it's going on. Man, this is pretty It's a pretty sad state of affairs. I'm wonder, I wonder how many of you in law enforcement have seen you know, you see the goons squads in the past regimes in third world countries, North Korea, Nazi Germany, wherever, and I'll bet not one of you ever dreamt you would be in the position of one of those goons in your lifetime, and you took that oath, whether you're Canadian or American, or Australian
or from New Zealand, all your law enforcement officers, you military people that took those or those oaths, I couldn't only imagine how how frustrating that must be to know that you are one of those third world goons being used as a political weapon against your own people, even if you think what you're doing is wrong, and you still do it. I couldn't imagine what that's like.
Go home and looking at your kids. Are your parents, your grandparents, people who grew up with Pepa, played hockey with, people you went and hung out with, the party with, and had fun with, and grew up with and went to school with. Imagine imagine what that must feel like. I couldn't imagine. I've been out, I haven't been on the liner in service all day long. Who knows what went down today? I would imagine by the time I get home, I will have found out that
the dictatorship goon squad put the fences up around the people. The people. We were standing up for the freedom and the rights, the Charter rights, Kane, Charter rights, and I will bet you did all those men and women who used to be Canadian kids. I'll bet you they went in there and arrested all those innocent, hard working, honest people today. That's my guess. Never give up, never give up. We just regrouped. Old Dave my brain doing circles all day long. I went out no matter.
It wasn't too easy to get up this morning. It's big with bugging me. But I'll tell you what, when you're out here, you don't even know what you're sick. So let's see what do we got. Well, it's titled Steve in caps Lock. This is gonna be a long email. My name is Craig Richardson. You can feel free to use it. A man. Let's get into it. Some deals with a sighting by myself, my brother and our friend John. I lived in the suburb of Manassas,
Virginia. The year was nineteen seventy three and I was sixteen years old. One day I decided to ride my bike about six miles from my home in the bull Run trailer to a creek named Little Rock and Run. To get there, I traveled four miles on paved roads, two miles on old Route twenty eight to the intersection of the main Route twenty eight and headed north about a mile to where a major power line cross, and then the road onto the power line to the east until I reached the creek. Never been there.
I was exploring. Found a long, smooth run about one hundred yards into the woods on the left north of the power line. Water was crystal clear. You could see the fish everywhere caused small milk bass, small rainbow trout, large sunfish, some big red eyes rock bass. Went home and showed my brother and friend well. We all aged to go back the next day, probably eight. To go back the next day we did. However, upon arrival to the aforementioned smooth run, there was not a fish to
be seen. The woods were silent and felt weird. We started a fish anyway. While we were beating up, a rock the size of a softball came whizzing by so fast you could hear it coming. It hit the water with such force that water sprayed for twenty yards in all directions. We could hear something in the thick brush behind us. We all got spooked and ran to where we left our bikes. We had to cross the stream to get to them, and the hill we had to ascend was way too steep.
To ride up, so we had to run while pushing the bikes. About a half mile up. We were all winded stopped. That's when John said, look, and we all looked back down to the creek. They're on the edge of the woods where we had been fishing. Was what I would describe as a tall, hairy man, dark brown hair covering the entire body.
Please note that we were at least three hundred yards away, so no real details except he looked at us for maybe ten seconds, and then he just walked across the powerline two hundred yards wide, so we all got a good look. When we were safe and back at the highway Route twenty eight, we all agreed to not say anything to anyone about what happened. That's always the unfortunate part of the stories for me. We arrived back at home. When into John's house, his mom was in the kitchen. As soon
as she saw us, she said, what happened? We said nothing? Why? She said, bullshit, you're all white as a ghost. We never did tell anyone. Part two. I'm now living in some point West Virginia. My brother Read had come home after school and walk in the house. Our mother is sitting in her spot on the couch as usual, but she is white as a ghost. We say hey, Mom, and there's no response. I tell my brother to call the rescue squad, announce,
and then tell him no way. She's alive, but I'm responsive. She can move her eyes, but it seems to be full of fear. After about fifteen minutes, she starts to battle. Another fifteen minutes and she can talk coherently. She tells us I was sitting here watch the TV. In the front door opened and something walked in invisible. He'd come up to her and asked where the oil was She set up and I've been eating peanuts. She said that she could not move or fight, and that the thing probed
every orifice of her body, including her personal regions. Now about an hour's gone by, and she says, Craig, it sounded like they ransacked your bedroom. You should go check it out. I did. The only thing I found was my bank book sitting on my table by my window, and it was missing a hundred dollar bill that I had tucked inside it. Well, my window was covered by paper curtains that were hard to keep shut, so I always pinned them. Shot with Scottie Doll Bank, Scottie Doll Bank.
There must have been a piggy anyway, it was full of coins. However, for the last few days, the curtains would be wide open. When I woke up, I could not make any sense of it. I told my brother that I felt like I was being called to go into the apple orchard across the street. I just went. It really got weird. I went back out to the living room, where my mother and brother were
still talking, and told them about the bank book and missing money. My mother said, look, boys, whatever it is, it did not harm me. She gave it a name. I forget the name. My brother said, I don't care if it apps with me, I will kill it, And right then the entire trailer started to shake, and the most evil sounding roar, slash scream you've ever heard enveloped the entire house. My mother begged my brother to shut up, and he did. Part three. It's
now dove seasoned me. My buddy, Donny, don't mention his name. He's a blah blah blah blah Blakkay. He'll never admit to what he and I witnessed. Left my house with our shotguns to go shoot some doves in the apple or across the road from my house. He's walking on my right. As we walked down between the rows of apple trees, and as we were walking, I know it's a big opening in the tree. To my left, it looked like the lowest branch, four feet off the ground,
was under a lot of pressure. I told my friend to stop, showed it to him. He said it was just the weight of the apples. I said no, My sixth sense was on point, no fear, but I knew something was wrong. I pointed my gun at the opening, and all of a sudden, the branch flew up as something leaped off of it and hit the ground running. You could see the footsteps in the fallen leaves.
This does not adequately account for everything that happened that fall at apples flying off the trees at me like they were thrown from a baseball pitcher that fast, but not everyone hit me. Then one night, all the dogs are barking and growling with that fear growl. I went out of the spotlight shotguns, shine the light on the dog pans. We raised beagles and trained it for sale, and all the dogs were up on the fence wire and looking
up into the sky. I looked up and saw a round craft with dimly lit windows, only four I think, and I shined my light on it. The dim light behind the windows went out, and it slowly moved away over the woods. The dogs calmed down and I went back inside. I told my brother and my mom that the dogs were barking out a couple of raccoons. Please note this all happened long before the Predator movie. This followed me for twenty years and did shit just to app with me. Example,
I packed my lunch to work every day. I put my brown paper lunch bag under my favorite hat down on the pasture side floor board of the car, out of the direct sun. Come out to get my lunch, and two sandwiches, chips or whatever snack would balanced vertically on top of the other, with hat balanced on top of them. Impossible. You'd think that even it could be done. You would think that, even if it could be done, that it would fall fall down when you open the car door.
Not so as soon as you touch any of it, it would all fall down. It's a crazy, freaking email, man. I know it's a lot to take in, but there is more they have I think came through the trees just a glimmer in nineteen eighty and sat down beside megeing on a very large dead log I was sitting on while bull hunting. I had my bow on the tops of my thighs it sat down on my right side. I had a tennis buck knife on my left hip, and I thought, grab it with my right hand and just cross stab it to my right,
stabbing the belly or whatever. As soon as I had the thought, it said to me in English, don't even think about it. I could have killed you anytime I wanted. You're no challenge, and it left. I help this, help someone else. Not be afraid. I'm still hunting fish anywhere I want. That's when I held an email, and I would imagine there's gonna be people shaking her head, going yeah, right right, I
know I'm right. But how many people have seen the shimmering light? How many people have pre heard something writing, seeing the footprints, seeing the bush moving? You haven't seen anything? How many seen that glimmering thing chasing elk? How many people seeing crazy shit in the sky? Thousands, right, thousands? One thing I can tell you that I wasn't there and I'll bet you if somebody else says something that happens similar, they're gonna email in now,
or they're gonna share it or say something in the comment section. Blow this video, somebody's going to add to this you wait. Thank you for selling that in man, I don't envy you with those experiences. I'll tell you what experience at Granted Creek, California and answers and questions just Stevie channel is now part of my daily routine and an excellent source for many. Thank you for that. After the landscape, wisdom and experiences of others that you
share, absolutely top notch experience. First ye as today in your broadcast, what brings people to your channel? It would be that it is a center or truth tellers, and you're easy going and open attitude attracts many of the same kind. A line from the film Field of Dreams strikes me. Build it and they will come. That is what you've done. I applaud you and the contributions of the other members of this family. They participate in the
broadening of our horizons. It is in itself the center, but don't ask me to divine that. It is just annoing my experience with the unseen occurred, and I was sixteen years old when I left, ambitious enough to hike into Granite Canyon, a well kept secret to a few in the area just south of Carmel, California. I followed a cow trail over the ridge of wild flowers in April one year alone, dropping down into a redwood forest.
It had freshwater creek. Had a freshwater creek that I hiked too with others, but never alone before. The rumor was that it was haunted. My father had hiked through it throughout the Las Padre Forest as a team himself that we rarely spoke as if of his experiences that would have been back in the thirties for him in the seventies for me. After crossing the ridge and finding myself on a grassy bank alongside a stream, sat down to eat my lunch
a French baguette and a round of lopping cow cheese. I laid out on a checker table cloth to add to the ambiance. Laggers are driving home near inside of the valley, but I keep hearing something in the timber on my left. There's a big timber behind the camera, big mountain. Anyway, I hate it when when something catches my attention, it screws me up or reading. No sooner than the moment my lunch was out and I sat back in the sun, everything around me spoke in a silent whisper, not a
scream. To leave immediately. Fear doesn't begin to describe it. Yes, danger was the feeling and imminent danger. If it had been verbal, it would have been to the words go now, odd because there was nothing about the day to be afraid of. But it felt like I was being watched, not by one, but by many, and the watchers seemed to be in the trees, up the stream, and almost in the air, just
in every aspect of the experience. First, I laughed it off because I was a girl in my teens feeling indestructible at being out of my own But within seconds it was no longer a joke or a paranoid moment, but an immediate concern. I left within minutes after packing up my lunch, and I never went back. Something was there that did not want me to be there, and it wasn't a human being who was in the air and knowing. I can't describe it any better than that. It was shared knowledge between me
and something else, not a person. This message was that it was not my space and I should leave immediately. A few years later, my friends and I went hiking in the same region, this time starting from Polo, Colorado for a demanding hike up the pine Red Trail from the boy Scout camp but Boocher's Gap. We arrived on the ridge, set up camp, and had a small fire to cook on before going to bed in our sleeping bags
out under the stars. The fire was put out appropriately. Around midnight or so, a dense fog took over the ridge and I awoke with an imminent fear of a forest fire. The fog I saw morphed into a forest fire, though there was no reason for it, no real fire, but an awareness that the entire ridge would be taken over by fire. The feeling was trapped. And remember this wasn't the current day. This is almost fifty years
ago, when fires weren't started like they are today. Like so many others have said, and like I have felt before in the wild of Granite Canyon, the message was to leave immediately. No one else in our group mentioned it. We hiked out the next day and I never went back. The feeling was much the same as the first experience in Granite Creek, which isn't far from Pine Ridge, as the crow flies water at it, steep cliffs,
dense redwood forests, not public land but state slash national forest. In retrospect, I didn't see anything, but the sensation was much more intuitive than physical. I'm not a fearful person. I'm a forester's daughter as well, the granddaughter of a forester, my dad's father, who worked as a forester for the state back in nearly nineteen hundreds, always in charge of land in northern California, from Shasta to King City and to the west. They were
firefighters, fire spotters as well as land management back in the day. They certainly weren't talkers, and if one tried to ask about these experiences, it would have been met with a keen eye, sharp expression, and zero disclosure As to unexplainable things. They might have known, but they never would have told the beings of the forest are real. Even if you can't see them, they are there. They use methods to communicate to people who can receive.
We hear them, even if we don't understand what we are hearing and feeling. I'd like to toss a question out to all the people who will listen to your broadcasts and have been exposed to these experiences, and see if they agree or not with the theory that I have. Perhaps they might contribute additional theories of their own from the belief that the people who have had near death experiences in their lives are more receptive to the physical energy of these beings.
An interesting study for those who have seen them or experienced them would be to ask have you had a near death experience? Somehow I have an inkling that if one has had a near death, they have an enhanced radar. I can explain that more in depth, and I would be glad to But I know you have a new property to tend to, lovely wife waiting, cute outfits for the animals, by the way, and other people who are equally as glad as I am for all of you do read this on your
broadcast. Let me just say, the channel and this experience is one of the finer things in life. And I can speak for all of us who say to you, how thankful we are for doing you do all the best of all things wonderful coming your way. And the same to others that listen to your broadcast and and a very merry Christmas to everyone. Thank you, Randa, thank you. It's our a n Da Randa or Randa, I'm guess it's Randa appreciated Randa. You remember of the club without a doubt.
And this channel isn't ending without people like you and all the people contribute and all the people that come here to learn. So many freaking emails. I'm trying to get back to the bottom, and I stop it and see it. Okay, I don't know what's this one, So let's gonna start getting wet here pretty quick. Definitely a storm rolling in from the ocean. It's not here yet. It's gonna keep going this. This is titled Another Strange Encounter, and I'm just marked this red pull again, Steve. My name
is Jerry. I shared my first encounter about when I was seven years old in nineteen sixty four northwest Illinois. A couple of weeks ago, around nineteen seventy three or so, again in northwest Illinois, a friend of mine and I were doing what small time teams do in a small town back then, back road beer drinking. We were on a very remote road, of course, after drinking a couple of beers. Good to take a whizzer whatever. So my friend who was driving, pulled over when we got out and started
peeing on his side of the car. The scrub brush started shaking and thrashing about violently, and a deep guttural growl started. This is going on only about fifteen yards or so from us. I zipped up and yelled at him to get in the uping car. He was freaking up, but he couldn't stop peeing. Kind of funny maybe now, but not then. He finally jumped in the car, through it and drive and we took off and all of a sudden something hit the back of the car with a loud thud.
Saw a shadow of something very large. My buddy said he saw a flash of white. I didn't see white, but it happened freaking fast. We then went back to his house in town and looked at the back room, left under and trunk, and there were claw marks on the car. No dance. Of course, people accus just to being drunk and making up a
story after them. I know what I saw. And to those out there that say it was a bear, there's no bears in Illinois, and had no bears in Illinois had ever been reported at that plus I know it wasn't a bear. Thanks again for all you do for those who threaten you. You're right they are epin pussy's excuse my language. At sixty five, I still would kick their ass, and I believe you by the way. I watch your wife's video making moose rib rawl. Oh my god, that looks
amazing. Still trying to find her a link, but definitely want to see more recipes. Have a great day. Thanks again. All right, Man Gerald, thanks for that share Man Cook and Eat It on YouTube is a isser channel. I've been busy lately, haven't been able to put the time in that she wants on it, but it'll pick up speed. We're gonna do another version of the rib rowl here pretty quick too. All right, when we got here, Mark, this is red. I've not seen what
you talk about, but I believe my stories. In the nineteen eighties, I would go a white till hunting in Middle Georgia my aunt and uncle's place. I'd parked on their front yard, then grabbed my gear and walk to my stand. I've not loaded my rifle towels in my stand and put my safety strap on. I hunt through lunch into the time for the afternoon hunt. I would stay until shooting light was going on. This day I started was going. I would stay until shooting light was going on. This day,
I started out while I was still had light. As I got about twenty five yards from my stand, there was an itch in the middle of my back and hair started standing up. When I would look back, I saw nothing. I walked around some curves in the trail I was on. As I cleared the curves, the itching hair standing up came back. Never saw anything behind me or heard anything, just been thinking about it. Well,
I was short. Who knows about that? Was Donald. I think we've all had our hair stand up on end when we're in the woods. That's where we're sure. Okay, Mark, this is Red big Foot's title. This one. Steve names John of military law enforcement background without being said. When it came to the night of my seeing Bigfoot, I've developed a no nonsense policy about the subject. My story happened in the summer twenty eighteen. I was working for a food service company that delivers well into the night.
We have about a four mile radius from our store for a delivery we are in a rural area of Virginia. This delivery was made down a country road in Rockbridge County. I had to cross a parallene clearing together to my customer's house. It was about ten pm at night. After making my delivery, I again cross over the parallene clearing. I saw this creature first with its eyeshine close to the ground like a deer. The next second I see these eyes start to rise up and keep rising up to the height of about
ten feet. I knew this is no deer. I hit the high beam lights in the Sioux brew out back. That's when I saw its massive black body. It was far too large to be a bear. I wasn't afraid of it. However, I didn't stay around long enough to become frightened. After I got back to the store, I told the owner and fell the
drivers that night at what I saw parfa chorus with this subject. I was the brunt of the jokes, being six foot five and over three hundred pounds and over forty naturally, I shut those domasses up point blank, told the unbelievers, you'ru wasn't there, and truth be told, you had to shit yourselves if you were there. The one thing I didn't tell anyone is had to carry a nine mill pistol and an R fifteen in my vehicle to protect
myself because dealing with money. But I firmly believe I had used them on that creature, I would only have pissed it off. Although I've traveled through that every since then, I've not seen the creature again. Sincerely, John, there's another one. Another member in the Claubineau returned. They're just coming and right in the door, one after the other, right, one after the other. There's another one short one Mark. This is Red Wisconsin's surprise.
In August twenty eleven, my husband and I were dropped on the Pine Slash Poplar River in Florence, Wisconsin to do a three hour canoe trip. The river was low. We walked our canoe a lot of the way. There's a sunny, beautiful day. We winked a lot of wildlife. When we came around a bend, we saw us something about fifty feet in front of us run across the river. There was a typical bigfoot looking creature.
It was brown, hairy and large and had a splash across the river, which was very very low that only something that weighed as much as it did could do. I turned round and looked at my husband and we both said, what was that. There are no campgrounds or cabins in this area of the river. We thought maybe it was sumbating in a Gillie suit, but it was August that no one was hunting. Then we thought maybe it was
a person that was growing marijuana that was trying to scare us away. So I called the DNR later and I asked if they were in any reports in the area marijuana growing, and he said no. We continued to paddle past this point where we saw this creature, and we're very scared because it disappeared when it hit the river bank and made no sound at all, so we thought it was hiding and waiting for us. We had no weapons and no
phone service. It was the most eerie feeling having to have to paddle past where we saw it cross, and it was so quiet that if it would have ran in the woods, we would have heard it would no problem, but there was no sound and no sign of him after that. I've never paddled so fast in my life, and I was visibly shaking when we finally got picked up at our drop point. To this day, we don't know what we saw and people think we're crazy. Why don't we tell them the
story? But I know what I saw it. It wasn't a bear and it wasn't a man. So my only conclusion is so it was a sasquatch. After an investigation, I learned that there is a big foot group in Florence, Wisconsin. Thanks for the time. I love your channel and more people enter the club and no return right storm's coming. I'm gonna keep going. I'm not done yet, but little gotta get home. Excuse me,
Mark. This is Red Oregon El Hunt, Wolves and Knocks. I was El Kunta in the early November twenty twenty one in eastern Oregon, about fifty miles southeast of John Day, Oregon. Buddy and I had drawn hair tags for the unit and were optimistic of a successful hunt. Okay, hair tags that was a type of must have been bull tags. We had the same unit for the first time. Excuse me. We had the same unit for the first time in twenty nineteen with no luck because we really didn't have any
time scout the area. We got lucky drawn a tag in twenty twenty one, since it's high demand hunted with loss of applicants in the tag draw. Anyway, I should backtrack a bit more to say that I have an older work buddy, Ken that has hunted this same unit of the past, and I asked him for some tips of where to be concentrating my energy. He
did, along with some stories. Yeah, those kinds of stories he was hunting around there are twenty fifteen with another workmate, rich they were in a wall tent in the middle of a small clearing slash prairie in the middle of the night. They were a wolf by loud banging as in tree knocking on the edge of the clearing. He said. It went on for several minutes as they stood outside the tent shining lights across the field to the trees and saw nothing. I later asked Richard about it. He said, I don't
know. I don't want to talk about it. He said, okay. I just went on with my day people at work, just listening accounts stories without a lot of its sincerity. Ken also had stories of the graze. So back to twenty twenty one hunt, My buddy John and I left camp of the late on the third day of the season the try New area, which drove three miles west of Camp on the paved Forest Service Road to an old logging road. Heading north, it went up about a thousand feet to
the four thousand footmark before a dead ending at the gate. Beyond the gate to the north was an area that was logged maybe forty or so years ago. The road behind the gate was now impassable. The fence that went to the east and the west of the gate is a three strand barbed wire. John crossed the gate to the north. I walked the fence to the east.
It was cold, the ground was frozen and crunchy. I walked the quiet the fence as quietly as I could for about a quarter a mile, slowly going uphill on the spine of a long butte, with the fence twenty foot fir trees to my left and older big trees to my right. As I got about two thirds up the hill, it all turned back into old grove, then off to the northwest. I heard a wolf. Powell mind New Organ Game Commission says there are none in this area. Then a second,
and then a third. I believe I heard up to five wolves howling from my northwest all around to the east, I estimate a half mile away. Anyway, I realized I was being surrounded. Decided to backtrack. A radio John and I said, I'm getting out of here. He agreed. About one hundred yards later, the sling of my rifle broke. I managed to catch it just before it hit the ground. A good one. I've done that before. Crap, and now I have to pack this fifteen pound
ramatick in my hands. I set my rifle against knoll down tree and was tying up some paracord as a temp fix. As I tie the last knot, I see motion on my right. Something big, black and four legged running at me fourty yards away. I thought there which I also had a tag four. I stood up, raised my rifle to see one hundred and fifty plus black wolf pound one hundred and fifty plus black wolf running straight at me. Safety off that it must have saw me and peeled off to my
right, heading southwest. Now here's the fun part. As of following this rifle wolf with my rifle bam directly behind me and on the other side of the fence no more than a hundred feet I hear a loud crack of wood on wood I can only describe as a ten foot long baseball bat hitting a six inch diameter a large pole and didn't the ending, not a sound, a motion, nothing. All I was thinking it was what the f was
that? And where did that wolf go? Heels to say, made sure my rifle and my forty five of my leg were good to go, and I steadily walked back to the truck with the rifle button to my shoulder. Got back to the truck about ten minutes before John. All I could do is watch the trees with that nervous weariness of is there something out there? To this day, I don't know if the wolf was sniffing me out or just ran man away and got spooked when a camel thing stood up and pointed
at him. I also wonder if some of those howls I heard were the wolves and the knock was at warning to not mess with my buddy. I've ever heard of wolves coexisting with the big furry guy. I'm curious to know without finding out for myself. Oh and by the way, we didn't see an elk the entire season, which is not a common Thanks for reading and enjoy the hell Oed Channel. Chris oh Salem, Oregon. Hey Chris, thanks for that. Man. No, I haven't seen them protecting wolves or
running with the wolves myself. I've heard people have mentioned them running with dogs, heard once maybe about them being a wolves. But the truth of the matter is, man, I've trapped wolves where these beings frequent a lot. I've had my hands on a lot of wolves, and nobody just tried to stop me. Now, just messed with any of my assets. Now, except that one time I could hear tree knocks while I was setting in that huge cedar swamp, the same trees that I showed you guys the spring when
it hung the meat. And then I got the grizzly bear on the wind or grizzlebear on the trailer camera on hundred fifty pound wolf. You got to have your hands on a lot of wolves to be able to or it's got to have your hands on a lot of whatevers and weigh them to be able to accurately guess the weight. Lots of people look at a wolf, is
it, oh my god, thinks a twohndred pounds hundredfty pounds. And to be honest, the largest wolf I have ever trapped in my life was only one hundred and twenty seven pounds, and that was a huge breaking wolf. And that's after a lot of bloody wolves too. I mean, there are hundred fifty pounders out there, but they're they're very, very very not common at all. Right, unless of people always ask me how much you think that grizzle bear wighed, I don't know. I would say I don't know
because I've never weighed one. I've never weighed a mountain grizzy bear, so I would not be able to tell you how much it was, right, It's just my feelings when people have try to have a solid guest to how much Sutin ways, you have to have way to handful of them first to be able to have an accurate guess. Wolves are typically very very tall, they're right up to here, but they're very lean, right, the very
lean animals are on the run non stop. Anyway, Sorry, man, I got off track there, but no, I've never heard of wolves and sasquatch going hand in hand in my life. All right, here's another one. Mark this is red has titled the Club of No Return. Well, Steve, my name is also Steve, and I'm sure so many others appreciate what you have done and continue to do for us, the people. I follow your channel for what I guess about two years now, but just recently
subscribe. Yeah, I'm one of those. Sorry I took me along. I don't worry YouTube will un subscribe, yet they always do anyway. Here's my story. September twenty eighteen, my son and I went to a boy Scout camp about an hour away from my home in northeast Tennessee. It is a well known place, but I'll leave it there to protect their anonymity. So by the time I arrived at a late start, everyone else had their tents all set up like so many tepees, away from the perimeter structural cabins
in one section of the camp. I had set mine up next, two in between two of the cabins, away from from most everyone, except ironically enough, the Scout leader who was staying in the cabin. Night fell quickly and I struggled to get us set up. We played hide and seek during the dusk hour, and some of the adults were chatting in and around the picnic carrea that served as a center point to this cul de sac in the
woods hadn't been dark more than twenty minutes. While we stood there chatting with out of nowhere, this stone bounces off in one of the cabins and scuttled across the wood deck, slashed steps of the cabin, straight and to the right of me. Everyone just stopped at once. Acorns were falling, and it was September, but this wasn't an acorn. It sounded like it hit the side, not the roof. Hit the side, not the roof. Not long after that we hear a distinct knock in the distance. I'm no
outdoorsm and and admitted. But it doesn't take Davy Crockett to figure out that it was close enough to here, but far enough to not get a pinpoint or gauge exactly how far it was. I merely went into spotty sinse. Sorry i'd use that reference, but that's what I imagine. It would feel like. My hair stood up, my pulse rose, and my breathing increased. Everyone else just carried on and maybe made a comment or two about it, but I was glad it was dark so they couldn't really see the fear
that had to be screaming across my face. But I also started writing off the stone as nothing too, until I heard the knock. Then there was another one to our six and just left. It was closer, but still a ways off. I struggled to believe what was happening, and everyone else didn't even seem to notice. That's when I realized they had no clue was going on. I'm sure they heard it too, but they just didn't know, so I tried to ignore it until yet a third knock resonated through the
campground just before I got to my tent. Three knocks wire triangulated positions of our camp. I'm laying in my tent trying to get my then seven year old son to sleep, Acorns falling off on the tent with no wind and humid air. I've never wanted to leave a place so bad in my life. I should have left, maybe, but I stuck it out. A couple of Scout leaders walked around the camp of flashlights until midnight or so. I'm laying dead still with this ridiculous four inch lock blade in my hand and
across my chest. Knocks every twenty minutes or so, and always an answer from the other directions. Then this crashing sound came like someone threw a Volkswagen beetle into the pile, into a pile of branches. I'm sitting there thanking the stars. My son did wake up. He was on the side of the tent that based a tree, and I felt it was the safest place I could give him. At the time. I wish now, I just
packed our ship and got in the cabin. But last I lay there all night hearing noises and crashes, and there's guttural but tangible speaking about fifty yards away. It only happened once. It was around three am or so. I had my phone. It was peaking. I had my phone and was peaking every so often for time. It sounded like no joking here the Tasmanian Double from the Looney Tunes. But it was deeper and fast, like a speed talk around a car commercial. That's when I thought seriously about getting out
of dodge. I just prayed to God to spare my son from these things. He lost his mom the next year to cancer. It's been tough, but he was spared that nightmare of knights because he can sleep through a nuclear bomb. Apparently. I heard something heavy with padded footstones walk away from my tent after I dozed off around I am. I was exhausted from work and all the tussle. It was just loud enough to wake me and immediately went
into fight or flight. I would have died, but the bastard was getting all French as a lock blade up his ass as my death wish, I swear it, but no. It just walked away and then the glorious sun came up about fifteen minutes later. That was the longest fifteen minutes of my life. At dawn, I finally got the nerb decks at my vinyl sanctuary. It was still fairly dark because the sun was behind the horizon. I had my flashlight out and scanned the perimeter in all directions twenty yards away or
so. At just the end of the last cabin, I catch eyeshine. I freezed the beam and my breath broke. Now it was grumpy, tired and fed up with this whole thing. So I walked straight toward the eyes, saying I see you in whispered tones, I see you. Then another eye shine appears and I stopped for a second. I forgot about my son and the tent for one split second, and it gave me pause because it
didn't want to get too far away. I raised the lamp up to get a better view, and standing just inside the camp perimeter or two white tailed deer. Relieved in somewhat humiliated, I went back to wake my son. We had Why had dear entered so close to humans? I thought maybe they had no fear because people can't hunt there, or maybe they knew sanctuary next to us was the better alternative to those beings out there. The worst part
of it all is that no one mentioned it all that morning. Sorry, the worst part of it all is that no one mentioned it it all that morning. It left me thinking it was my own imagination. I tried to say something to one woman about all the noises that night at breakfast, and she just deflected the conversation with something else. I think she heard it too, but didn't want to know what it was, so it was awkward.
I could see discomfort in her eyes, but no fear. I was completely drained that day and had to trudge through all the day's activities, so I didn't bring it up again. Forward six months or so, I run to the Scout leader out of grub and pub. By chance, I brought it up. He tells me he thinks I was being haunted. He said he heard some weird sounds, but no crashing sounds. Maybe, he said mentor type, he thinks you were being hunted. He said he heard some weird
sounds, but no crashing sounds. I don't know. See people are crazy, but I didn't I know, I didn't imagine myself into that miserable state of mind norder. I wish to be exhausted the next day. I have some of that joy stolen from me, my son, and the last person I would go looking for these things. If sounds could kill, they shot me in the face. I can't imagine what carnage they could bring, should
they choose. I would really like some answers, but our society day has been watered down with lie after lie, as they had ever, It's just more entertaining for most just to just point and laugh than to listen to think. Next Again, for this opportunity, I help. My input brings souls to another, then doesn't get lost in the archives. Peace to you and yours. Thanks for that email, Steve, appreciate it. I can't imagine having that vulnerable feeling with a small child and a tend with me. Nothing
to protect us i'd be frustrating. Oh man, I'm done. Still second tired, now done. Oh I gotta get going. Time to get going. Funny, you can see something dark beside a tree. Sure what I was just looking at, So you can see why I was doing the double take. I always do double takes. It's just out of having right m
just a stump. But once you're seeing something, those sort of shapes stand out no matter what for the rest of your life, no matter where you are, when you're in the woods, you always have to look to be certain I'll be back. H