This is an email from Matt in Ohio, and this is terrifying. I had a horrifying experience when I was fourteen. I live in Youngstown, Ohio, where I grew up on the north side of town, and it was surrounded by old steel mills. My buddy lived directly across the street from those mills, and for us it was a wonderland, a massive playground of dilapidated
buildings and vagrant lights where most of the businesses were shut down. There were certain buildings that we frequented more than others, and one of them we made our home base. We spent weeks building walls and strengthening spots so that no one could get in, especially the vicious wild dogs that ran in packs through the area. Our home base didn't have any stairs, so we had to
jump up to get in, and it made things safer for us. It was right next to an active railroad that brought supplies to one of the mills that was still in operation. We used to build massive fires in the middle of the first floor of our home base, around which we would erect a wall of big metal U shaped things to give us privacy and safety, and if anyone saw us from the railroad. They would have called the cops and we would have been in trouble. Well. It was Youngstown, Ohio in
the mid nineties, also known as murder Town, USA. We carried guns because there were plenty of gangs around, even the Bloods and the crypts, and that justified our behavior. One summer night, we were hanging out like usual when we heard a pack of dogs coming and it sounded like they were chasing something, so we went out to watch in case they came near. From over a huge amount of coke the mills used in the still making process, we heard them begin to fight, and it sounded like a violent attack
involving all the dogs. After a few seconds, we heard a louder dog above all the others, and then the wild dogs began to scream like they were being torn to pieces, and at certain points, to our horror, dogs were literally being thrown over the mound in different directions. Finally, the wild dogs ran away as fast as they could. The ones that survived the fight and many were obviously injured, and we were in shock. About that time, one of my friends screamed, what is that? Look at that
thing? We turned and saw a giant, wolf like animal that looked too big to be real. Crawling on all fours to the top of the mound. It got to the top, and, still staring after the wild dogs, it lifted its head and marked its territory, and the amount of yearine it released brought home the reality of how big this thing was. It scared
the hell out of us. One of my buddies reacted by stumbling backwards and into our makeshift metal wall, and he knocked it over, but the noise drew that thing's attention to us. No words can express the amount of fear that we were all feeling. The memory of that moment still fills me with terror, and even now the hairs on my arms were standing on end as I write this. The thing had amber colored eyes that glowed as if they had a power source behind them, and looking back, we agreed that it
was from the light of the huge bonfire burning behind us. It growled in a low rumble, and it rattled our insides. I felt that in my chest, I said. In answer. One of my buddies complained that he felt white headed, while another said he felt sick to his stomach. Well, I didn't feel that way. But we were all still terrified. This creature then did something that was so foreign to our understanding of the world that
we all turned and ran. It stood up on two legs. They looked like a pair of dogs legs, but the large muscles were more like those of a bodybuilder, but they were bigger. We all bolted inside the building, and we scrambled up the two sets of broken and missing concrete stairs to the third floor. It's a miracle that none of us fell and broke a leg. And one of my friends was so terrified that he was crying when we got to the third floor. We had to smack and shake him to
calm him down. We even had to cover his mouth until he almost passed out from lack of air. We were hoping the thing had left, but it hadn't. After what seemed like an hour but was probably only a minute, we heard it climb up onto the outside of the building so that it could get in. As we held our breaths, we saw it shadows spread across the far wall. Its shadow was ten times larger than the beast. But we got the idea that this thing was huge. We were too scared
to move. No one made a sound. We should have ducked down and out of sight, but we were frozen in place. It stepped into the light and we had a full view of it, and it was at least the size of a grizzly bear, And because it was so large, it was hard not to think that we had to be dreaming. But this was real, and we were agonizingly aware of that fact. It growled and sniffed the air. Then one deliberate motion, it turned its head and looked straight
at us. It knew where we were. Its eyes glowed with that awful amber fire as it began to drool in a way that said it was hungry and we were about to become its meal. We knew it could have easily killed us if it could reach us. It turned and looked at the stairs. At that moment, another overwhelming dose of or slammed into our stomachs when it began to walk over to the stairs. This thing was coming up to us up the stairs, and we began to frantically look around for a way
to escape. Our only hope was the outside firestairs heading up to the roof, and the park that went down had long since rusted away and fallen off This creature hopped easily over the three missing bottom steps and was on the second floor in just an instant, and as it walked over to the next set of stairs, we heard the most beautiful sound we've ever heard. A train was passing by the building. We knew they saw the fire because they blew
the trees and horn. The wolf creature looked out through the opening in the side of the building, and in two seconds it ran out of the building and it was gone. We all started screaming for help, but no one heard us, but we needed to scream to release the stress. I guess we felt like we were going to be okay at that moment, but that didn't last for long, and when the train was no longer in hearing range, fear set in again. Every sound we heard was perceived as a warning
that it was coming back, and I thank God that it didn't. It wasn't until then that we remembered that we had three pistols with us, and we got them out and we took the safeties off and headed down to the second floor. There we waited for twenty seconds and we listened, and once we thought it was safe, we went down to the first floor. And waited an hour before we got up the nerve to go outside. With our guns pointing in every direction and our flashlights pointing straight in front of us,
we made our way back to our friend's house. That was the most nerve wracking part. We didn't have led flashlights back then. They were the cheap plastic type that didn't offer much light. The four of them together got us home, but not before we jumped at every sound and movement in the shadows, and when the wild dogs began to bark somewhere in the distance, we took it as our queue to run, and we didn't stop until we reached my buddy's house. Those of us who are still alive talk about that night
every time we get together or talk on the phone. We will remember it until the day we die. Whenever I hear a story about someone else's experience, I'm brought right back to that night and I feel true fear again. All right, here's a story from Lefty, and this is fantastic. This is where I'm supposed to tell you how I'm a lifelong hunter and a hog trapper and a pretty good cowboy. Well i am, but that's not important. But the fact that I had recently gone through a divorce, and our
son and two foster sons are all grown up. As a little more relevant because that is what got me in the wrong place at the wrong time. Having never had an empty nest before, I got what the Canadians call a cabin fever. Suddenly I had extra time and extra money, and I swear I didn't know what to do with myself. I needed a new hobby or three, and I ended up following a young fellow from East Texas that likes to take long kayak trips on these beautiful hill country rivers and pitch a tent
or string a hammock between two trees on a sand bar. He and his buddies all used GoPros and they fill their weekends and memory cards with adventure. They do a fine job of editing their content after each trip, and I figured that I would do the same. I bought a good fishing kayak and a three man tent. It was designed for alpine hikers and it weighs almost nothing. Now I hit the Lower Guadelupe, figuring a night or two on a sand bar eating fresh fish would teach me what else I might want out
of life or better. Yet, what I didn't want While kayaking rapids, less weight is the goals, so you don't want to get top heavy and find yourself upside down. It was still a little early in the spring of twenty twenty one, so the water was cold. But the good news was is that I had the entire hill country to myself. Well that's how it seemed at the time. Anyway. The first day was a blast, and I covered a lot of miles and I camped on some private owned campground.
It was deserted all the way down to the river, but on the other side of this parcel, which is a couple of hundred acres, I could see some fancy fifth wheel campers with more pullouts and you can count. We call these Winter Texans. That evening, I had the riverfront to myself and it was great, and I pitched camp about twenty five feet from the water, and I cooked up a day's catch. Just as I finished eating in
the coals from my fire burned down, I heard a commotion. Some wild ducks had shared my campsite and were taking advantage of some lily pads right off the bank. I moved slowly so I wouldn't spook them, but a change in menu went through my mind as I observed them splashing away in the water. You better be happy I got a belly full of fish, because one
good jump from the shoreline and I would have a waterfowl for breakfast. It would prove ironic because, as it turns out, someone or something must have had similar thoughts. It was right at dusk, and I had done a lot of kayak dragging and paddling all day. And about the time I got in the tent and my head hit the pillow, I went straight to sleep. The usual night sounds like frogs, chirping and code. He's howling in
the distance, lulled me like an outdoorsman's lullaby. I didn't check the time, but I know it was in the middle of the night when I woke up. I know he's had jarred me out of my deep sleep. The frogs and the bugs and the code must have run out of breath and gone to bed too, because it was as silent as a graveyard. Suddenly I heard something that clearly was very large, take a couple of running steps and splash into the river. It sounded like a cow hitting the water well.
The ducks panicked and they took flight, and then suddenly let out one of the most god awful noises I've ever heard. It was like a combination of a giant venting frustration like Homer Simpson on steroids spouting dough, mixed with the roar of a lion and the sound of a passing freight train. That sound vibrated the fabric on my tent. I cannot even begin to replicate what I
heard, but I will sure I will never forget it either. At this time, every hair on my body and head and everywhere else was standing on end. Think of the silhouette cut out of a Halloween cat. That's about how confident I felt it that moment, and I'm generally a confident guy. In Texas, it has said that God created all men, but it was actually Samuel Coat who made them all equal. Well, my fight or flight instinct kicked in, and it must have agreed with that little saying, because
I didn't even have a conscious thought about what I was doing. I tilted my ears in the direction of the river while my hand went for the three fifty seven mag that I traveled with, and once it was in my hand, I held my breath and I cocked the hammer back as silently as one can cock our hammer back. I was trying to be quiet, but whatever it was heard me. It was walking out of the water toward my tent. I was hearing twin footsteps hitting the ground, not four of a typical
forest animal. It got so close I could hear it breathing, and it sounded enormous. I was all nerved up, and I was trying to calm myself by rationalizing that this thing was only trying to score some supper and as long as I wasn't on the menu. I squeezed my buddy Sam Colt with my shooting hand, and I told myself that my visitor was just that, just a visitor at this point. But if he did so much as Poco Paul through the door flap of my tent, I was going to put two
in the chest and one in the head. That would still leave me with three shots, and I could do the same thing again if I needed to. I was hoping in praying it wouldn't come to that. Well, Thankfully it didn't, and after what seemed like an eternity, it shuffled its feet and started to walk away. It must have been big. By judging its great thudding footsteps that reverberated through my tent, that thing was just one itchy
trigger finger away from having a bad night. The next morning, I looked around for tracks, and I could see some deep impressions, but that was it. I packed up my outfit and I set sail, thinking about last night's little battle of wits. And I didn't know who or what it was for sure, but I had places to go, and I accepted this standoff as a draw even as I was floating into the sunrise. But in my mind I was sitting on a great horse and riding off into the sunset.
I wasn't coming back anytime soon either. I can assure you of that, and it still gives me the heb gebis to this day. Well, I made it back to civilization, and curiosity got the best of me, and I got online and I listened to every wildlife recording that I could find. I knew nothing else that could make a sound like what I heard that night
by the river. Let alone walk upright and hunt ducks without a twelve gage, that is until I stumbled onto some of Ronald Morehead's Sierra sounds, and I'm telling you, the very skin on my body wanted to crawl off and go hide under the bed. That's some creepy stuff. And I don't mind admitting that this big, tough guy does not need to hear any more of that nonsense. Heck, I already could hardly sleep at night before all of
this. Anyway, Well, one thing led to another, and I ended up on a website that keeps track of bigfoot sightings, and I was shocked to hear that there's a little hotbed of activity reported near Canyon Lake, close to where I was. I continued down the rabbit hole, trying to educate myself, and I found some interesting channels on YouTube. The more I learned, the more I was faced with the fact that I now know something exists, and worse yet, there are millions of people, some who get paid
with tax money, no less, who have been lying to us. What a cowpie sandwich for all of us to munch on. Hack Guys like Judge roy Bean and Sam Colton. Me think suppressing the truth approaches fraud and criminal behavior. And I myself had not overly prone to violence, though some times I'd like to smack the smirt from the government type's face in the media, and of course most of the entertainers who are so vocal in ridiculing people that
report the kind of things I experienced and now know are out there. As I sit here typing, I occasionally reach up and make sure that my wide brimmed tenfol cowboy hat is sitting on my head straight. There is so much I distrust now in channels like yours make me feel right at home and a little more comfortable with what I witnessed that night. My eyes couldn't see a thing, but my ears new. The old timers around here never used terms
like bigfoot and sasquatch or skunk ape. In Texas, we call these things boogers. I'm not sure how to spell it, but there's a lot of things I can't spell, and what I can do is to share any in awe that there are some things that go bump in the night. But maybe it isn't all bad. As long as they hunt ducks and not me, they won't have to meet with my friend Sam Colt. He and I are basically insuperable now, but he's old like me. If you ever hear of
some poor soul climbing the walls thinking they're crazy for believing in bigfoot. You can give them my number. I was in that lonely place once and my mind and my mood were dark, and it's a place to visit, but I decided not to live there, and I would want anyone else to live there either. You are sharp and probably noticed I'm not feeling the need to discuss the exact location of my little camp site. I'm also going to ask you to use my nickname, which is Lefty. Some things are just nobody's
business. Piece from a kayaking hippie and an old cowpuncher from the Texas hill country. Oh that's a great story. I really appreciate it. Both stories in this podcast were good, the Dogman's story and this bigfoot story. Basically, what happened. He went camping and apparently a bigfoot walked into his camp. He never saw it. That's a long and interesting story and a really well written story to describe what happened to him and his journey to find out
what he thinks is real and what it's not. I thought this was great. I really appreciate it. Thank you guys for joining me on this podcast, and we will see you on the next one. That's right, that's right.