Here's an email from Nick. Here's what he writes. I moved to Parker County, Texas two years ago with my wife and our three dogs. The property that we purchased and currently level on his five acres, and it's located outside of Springtown. The property is surrounded by other similar sized properties, but there are large wooded sections. The back three acres is open to the neighbor that borders me to the west, and they have a thick scrub brush on
the backside of their property. The metal barn that was here when we bought the place sits twenty feet from the property line and eighty feet from our back door. Now, I'll tell you all of this so that you can get a mental image of how everything is positioned on the property. When we first moved in during the summer of twenty twenty one, we were excited to start
some projects and make our place our own. After picking up a thousand pounds of scrap metal and giving the pasture a good bushhogging, the back achorage was looking a lot better than it had when we first moved in. We made a plan to move my wife's horse from her grandmother's property to ours. Once
I fixed the fence that ran down the western property line. One June evening, after it all cooled down, I started making the necessary repairs to the fence when I heard something moving around in the brush fifteen yards in front of me. Now it sounded like a large animal trying to be quiet but failing miserably. I wasn't concerned, since this part of Texas has deer and hogs an other wild game, and that's what could have been making the noises.
Thirty minutes into this episode, with on and off breaking of sticks and crunching leaves, I started to feel uneasy, like something was looking right at me or through me. I'm a big man six foot four and three hundred twenty five pounds, and having hunted the woods and swamps of Mississippi all my life, there's not much that has raised the hair on the back of my neck. But even so, something had my nerves on the edge. So I quickly finished the work and walked back to the house at a fast pace.
After getting into the house and shaking off the feeling of being watched, I turned on the baseball game and I was able to relax. Later on, my wife reminded me that she had to go out of town for the next few days for work, and she asked about the fence and I told her that I would have it completed, but I didn't mention the incident that made me nervous. She asked me if I could clean out the barn while she was gone as well. Well, naturally, I waited until the last day
before my wife came home to start this work. There was no electricity running to the barn, just a floodlight on a pole pointed toward the south entrance, so I had to get everything cleaned out during the day while filling my truck bed up with old water hoses and boxes of books and newspapers. From no telling how long, I worked my way towards the northwest corner of the barn. That's when I started to notice a rancid smell. The closer I
got to that corner. After finally getting the wall of boxes cleared out, I found the source of the smell. There were old horse blankets covered in gore and what looked to be an old dear carcass. Well. I thought it was strange, but stray dogs and codis are opportunistic and if no one is bothering them. I guessed that they would take up shelter in the barn well. I gagged a few times at the smell, and I managed to get all the terrible smelling horse blankets in the bed of my truck and on
the way to the county dump. And when I got back home that evening, I got cleaned up and I let the dogs out to use the bathroom and get some exercise. It was about thirty minutes before dusk, and that uneasy feeling that I had of being watched hit me again. I wasn't the only one that had an immediate feeling of eyes peering at me from somewhere. All of my dogs were on alert. They were looking over toward the barn. The biggest of these dogs is one hundred and twenty pound Great Pyrenees Retriever
mix. He was a real protective dog, but he was frozen in that spot. He was growling and his hackles were raised. I gathered myself and got the dogs back inside. I still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something glaring at me through the windows. The thought crossed my mind that there might be a big cat in the area. Even though the game warrans will tell you that there aren't. But I hadn't seen any tracks or signs, so after closing all the blinds, I felt a little better. That was
until about nine to thirty when I heard my neighbor's dog raising hell. Against my better judgment, I went to the gun safe and got out my three hundred blackout AAR fifteen, and I rapped around in the chamber and I lept on the weapon mounted light and I stepped out the back door. The instant that I pointed the light toward the barn, there was an ear piercing howl
or growl that vibrated in my chest. Now I'm not a believer in encryptids or that UFO stuff, so I started walking toward the barn with my muzzle trained on the entrance. I had only made it ten steps before this, well, it was this thing. It jumped into the beam of my light just inside the barn doors. So I froze in my tracks out of sheer disbelief. This beast was standing on its hind legs with its front arms hanging down just above its knees. And it was black. It's blacker than dark.
The next thing I noticed was the claws on the end of the raccoon like hands that glistened in my light. They looked long and danger I slowly raised my rifle, working that light up the creature, and I saw the ugliest canine face that I've ever seen in my life, thick, vicious drool that hung from its yellow, jagged teeth, and suddenly it looked like the edges of its mouth had turned up in some sort of a twisted grin.
Its eyes reflected green from the light. I had no idea what I was looking at, but I knew that thirty rounds of three hundred blackout probably wasn't enough to take it down before it got to me. I got lucky, and it turned and with one fluid motion, it jumped over the backset of
barn doors and started running into the night. From the time the creature jumped into the light from the time it suddenly turned away and bounded over the backbarn doors and ran off crashing through the brush may have been a total of thirty seconds. I got a good enough look at it to know that I was keeping my gun loaded in lights on in my hours lock that night. The next morning, I went out and measured where I thought the height of the
beast was. My best guess was that it was seven foot tall, and the barn doors that cleared without effort were even with my chin, and I found large canine style prints all over the dirt floor of the barn. My wife came home later that day, and I chose not to tell her about any of the events that happened the night before. It has been almost two years since that night, and I haven't seen, heard, or felt the
presence of anything on or around our property since. My best guess is that the thing had been staying in the barn while the previous owners had been gone, and I disturbed it by cleaning everything up. Hopefully I never have another encounter with anything like this again. Oh man, hopefully you don't. And you're going to catch some flight from the audience for not telling your wife.
And there's a lot of stories that guys will say that they'll say, oh, I saw this monster, but I never told my wife about it. It was on our property, it was close to the house, but I never told my wife about it. You know, honestly, I might not tell my wife because I know that it would scare her to death. She probably wouldn't want to live here, So I get it, and I almost support what you're doing. If you hadn't had any problem, that's a good
deal. But you're gonna catch some flight. So don't read the comments. How about that? Don't read the comments. To the man who wrote this, Nick I think was his name. I appreciate the story, man, this was great. You think you saw a dog man or a werewolf? What's the difference in a dogman a werewolf? Some people say, well, the werewolf's change and the dogman don't. But how do you know when you see a dog man if it didn't change like an hour before? So how
do you know? How do we know all these things? I don't know? All right, buddy, thanks for the story. All right, here's another encounter that I think is good, and I've done quite a few videos on the mogion. He phonetically writes it out so that I'll say mogion, but it's spelled mg O L l O N, so I call it Mogelon. I like that sounds better to me, So I'm just gonna call it
mogelon and make everybody from that area mad. But it's easier for me to say kind of limited in my dialect from where I live, the way I've talked all my life, and it's Mogelon. I've told you all this before. It's Mogelon from now on. This event took place on top of the Mogollon Rim towering above the Sonoran Desert. The Rim country of central Arizona averages
elevations from five thousand to eleven thousand feet. I'm a multi generational Sonoran Desert native with sixty plus years of experience exploring and tracking and hunting and fishing and diving and studying a place filled with a huge population of unique plants and wildlife, second to only the Amazon Basin. That is amazing. I had no idea it was so diverse in wildlife and plants. I need to see this place anyway. Back to the story. They're endless canyons and I'm not sure
what this word is. Riparian areas filled with water lakes, rivers, creeks, and springs bubbling up from the hardpan desert floor that support hundreds of animal species. Unlike most of the country, Arizona is dominated by mountains some thousands of feet high, iron filled mountains that screw up yourself on reception and paint the skyline with incredible views. Here we have fifty foot giant sagaroo trees and boonjum trees that look like giant silver carrots growing backwards out of the ground,
and thousands of plants species that support a cacophony of wildlife. Above the tangle of the desert, the Rim Country cliffs and canyons lead up to aspen, dug fir, spruce, ponderosa, pine, alligator, juniper, and oak forest in the Mogian rim forests that continue into the New Mexico Utah Colorado Area wild scrub and transition wilderness running below the pine forest at the feet of these mountains run for hundreds of square miles. Like the Moza mozat man, this
guy's got a bunch of words in here. I'm having trouble with mosasall Madizelle wilderness. Here there are few, if no roads leading into hidden canyons that run for miles. Hogbacks and maces perforated with deep chasms, and in those canyon walls there are hidden traverton caves that serve as a sanctuary for critters who migrate up and down the Rim face with the changing weather in seasons more than
they do latitude longitudinally, It's almost like a vertical migration. The untouched wilderness populated with Cou's deer, mule deer, anelope, Roosevelt elk, lines, jaguars and black bear every two square miles. Cody's Mexican red wolves, reintroduced wolves from Montana, jaguarty don't I ain't gonna attempt at Otter's coat, Cody mindy skunks, ringtail catch raccoons have Alena, golden and bald eagles, but tail hawks, a huge university of birds, dozens of constrictor snakes like California
king, and eleven kinds of rattle snakes. That's just a sample. Hey, y'all, when y'all write these I'm not being critical of this man, but when you guys write these stories, uh, you don't have to list every tree, every plant, every animal that lives in the area that you are. People just want to hear your experience, and this is interesting. I'm not being critical, but I didn't edit this, but normally I would just take all that out because it's not really germane to the story. Maybe
it is. Maybe we'll find out. I know I'm screwing this story up. Y'all just hanging with me. Let's see what he says. There's quicksand in the canyon bottom lands, chub minnows and spoon shaped catfish, and the Tina hot springs filled and spilling naturally into the eroded stone pools, stepping down the canyon walls, hot springs bubbling up in the rocks, and giant sycamore and cottonwood trees with hand sized leaves that provide evaporative cooling shade from the sun.
Arizona's wild country will take your life if you go in over confident, untrained, and unprepared. I started studying the indigenous plants and animal species with family as a child, and I followed that tradition with my kids. Knowledge is power, and doing well in this rugged place is a lot of work in a place where so many others fail. They get lost, and they die thirst or of exposure. Well, here's my first experience with the roaring
huge Mogion anomaly. In nineteen eighty eight, I was drawn for elk in the s w cliffs, the rugged slopes of the Mogion Rim near the Blue Ridge Reservoir. My cousin Dan and I travel regularly here to scout the area, and on this trip we came with my sister, my wife, and my pioneer grandmother, all anxious to escape the desert heat and camp under the brightest milky way stars you've ever seen in the west. Elk herds are crepps, crepuse. Man, dude, you gotta give me easy words. I
can't cr epu, scu la r whatever that word is. Meaning they're most active at sun rise and sundown. We scouted and tracked and glassed the area, and then we left camp at three am and walked the game trails for at least two hours before we set up around two heavily used wallows and open grass flats where there are plenty of service berries, loopine, awls, clover, and sitting in the dark, saturated in skunks scent, the sound of
herd activity came from behind. It was all around in moments, and I sat captive in my spot as mostly elk cows and cows poured around and passed me like water. I was surrounded, and I tried not to breathe too loudly in my excitement and give myself away. But once they had moved on
ahead. I got up to glass their movement, and to my amazement, they were disappearing near or off the five thousand foot high granite boulder cliffs and crags into hidden elk toe holes, Horse sized animals, disappearing off the edge where I was loath to stand upright for were being blown off or falling thousands of feet to my death. I realized that they had already made us Our
hunt was over for the morning. We found each other moving out into the open and decided to work back uphill, walking on rock and down in an arroyo, running between rolling hills topped with ponderosa pines, willow scrub to all grass and sapling small trees. We were headed up east and the rising sun began to shine and warm golden lighted us and through the trees. The walking was slow. It was steep, on in loose rocks and gravel, and
some of it escaping bouncing back downhill behind us. As we picked our way uphill, blue jays, robins, and dusty flycatcher chattered and flitted around us. They were chasing clouds of flying bugs with their wings lit up by the sun. It was turning out to be a beautiful morning. Suddenly, up on the top of a hill, fifty foot or so above me and on my right, something huge and heavy came crashing down. It was coming straight at me, and there was running over small trees and through the grass and
willows. It was so heavy I felt its steps its weight through my boots as it sent rocks crashing down at us. And then it stopped. It was twenty to thirty feet above me, and I couldn't see anything. I only heard its heavy breathing, it's puffing and panting, the thrashing and wagging of the tall grass and willows that bounced around its form just above us. Then it let out a horrendous royer that must have lasted five to ten seconds. It's not a lion or a roar of a jaguar, not a bear,
not a bull, nothing like an elk. That sounded like a male gorilla recording, only larger and much louder, and it lasted much longer. It was so loud that it shook me and vibrated my sternam and my ribs and my throat into my stomach. And immediately Dan and I drew pistols and we backed up and away slowly. I was anticipating an explosion, an impact, a blinding flurry, a giant flying down upon us, but instead it remained in its hole above us. The sound of its breathing, grunting and
liquid gurgling, growling throat noises was terrifying. We backed up, trying to move up the hill on the loose footing and not fall down. Two big bore pistols pointed directly at the threat. It was still moving and crashing back and forth like a boxer pacing side to side, but we still couldn't see it. We turned and scrambled up to the top of the hill and I looked back at the depression it made in the hillside grass and willows, and
it was gone. That was equally terrifying. And now I noticed the silence was deafening, and all the birds had stopped singing. It was early stone quiet. I was sure now it was coming and running up the back side of the hill, out of view, or above from another side. For an ambush. Well, we stopped and we held our ground back to back, each taking one hundred and eighty degrees, and we waited. But there was no sound. There was no noise from birds. Nothing at all.
Time passes slowly when you're waiting for someone or in this case, something horrendous. But nothing came. So we picked our way along the wash for another five minutes and repeated our defensive posture back to back again, and still all the birds were gone. There was nothing flying, and we were being watched, sure we were being tracked. It was an overwhelming sense of dread. We glass the open spaces and we were patient, and we'd stop and we'd
listen as we walked. We found the road, and instead of feeling relief, I realized I was angry. I was robbed of an outcome, an answer, a release, a solution, a discovery. And I began to argue that it was time to turn back and get this son of a bitch and hunt it down and own it. Well. Dan looked at me, his eyes drooped down to half mast, and then he said, slowly and calmly, no, I'm tired of the scrap. Let's get out of here and get some breakfast, and if it keeps following us all the way back
to camp, we'll kill it after we eat. Now, that was funny. He was wise. He made me laugh, and that was that, and we went back to camp for breakfast. The high alert status and john Nod in my stomach was gone. And when we got back to camp, we didn't expound on what had happened until later. We were glad to be back and we let the stress go. And when we did tell them,
everyone looked at us with heads bobbing up and down. And when I recreated the sound of the roar, they were incredulous and anxious, and the women were ready to break camp. I never smelled any stench. I never saw any cranial crest or saw any eyes. I actually saw nothing, not a zilch. I've seen red eyeshine in the past while freezing in a blind in
a place called Green's Peak, but nothing on this encounter. There are a couple of cowboys I've watched here on YouTube, and they filmed themselves rounding up cattle and riding and roping on some of the fine horse flesh and incredible mules, and crossing through impossible places where they were filming themselves in a pack train, supplying outfit or camps hop in the cellways of Idaho or Montana. And suddenly that exact same roar I heard years ago drowned out their conversation, and
their draws dropped and their eyes widened. The one with the camera phone said less to hell out of here, and the camera went black. Wow, it all came back to me, and after listening to some of your stories, I decided to write my account and send it off to you. I have another story involving me and my son and several sheriff's deputies and a helicopter chasing something huge across a golf course in the deserts of Cave Creek, Arizona, in two thousand and four. I'll send that one next, and then
he signs the email first. Let me say I wasn't being critical. Almost probably thirty or forty percent of the emails I get, they'll either list, like I said early in this narration of this story, they'll list every animal in the place, or they'll list all their guns and every grain of bullet they shoot, and you know, all that stuff. And it gets a little frustrating for me because I, like, I want to know what you went through. I don't want to know what you have. I don't mind
leaving it in. I don't it's and it's probably just me. It's probably just me, but otherwise when he did get to the story, this was amazing. Now, this Mogelon Mogion monster seems to be a deep, long lasting legend in that area, and I think it's very interesting. I bet I have done no less than twenty stories on the Mogion monster, and I think it's amazing. I wonder if anybody has any images or videos that they think might be something that's not blurry that they think might be this monster.
But this is a fascinating, fascinating phenomenon, and I want to thank the man for sending this. He's a good writer and I appreciate him taking the time to put this together and send this to me, because I know takes a lot of time olier out of your day to sit down and write these, and I appreciate you so much. So there you have it all right, once again, thank you for joining me. Yes, I'm busy at work and I am just doing these podcasts when I have some time. It's
Sunday morning, I'm working all weekend. I haven't had a day off, and I took a couple of days off two weeks ago just to cut my grass and get some work done around here otherwise I'm not letting up, y'all, and I'm gonna be busy, probably to the middle of August. But every now and then I get a break, and when I do, I'm
putting out a podcast. This won't last forever. And my first love is used to be worked now it's actually this podcast, and I just think about it all the time while I'm working, going, oh, do I have ten minutes? I would put out like five or ten minutes stories. I could do two of those a day, even working, but people don't like those. Nobody watches them. They only watch them if they're like thirty minutes
or longer. I don't want to put out stuff people aren't gonna watch, so I just wait four or five days until I have time to do two longer or three or four longer stories. And that's how I do it up. But if you guys would like five to ten minute long podcasts, let me know in the comments section, because I can do those. I could do one of those a day. All right, thank you for listening. I hope you all are having a good weekend. Staying cool. It's the
middle of July. It's hot here. Call me a little cooler. This week, but pretty hot. It's hot, so y'all stay, stay stay cool, stay hydrated, and we'll see on the next one. Thanks.