This is an email from a woman named Shelley, and she's from the Pacific Northwest. And this is a really interesting kind of violent story. It's pretty scary. She begins the email. She tells me she's a seventy year old retired nurse. She's a twenty seven year veteran of the Navy and the Army. She was in from nineteen sixty seven to nineteen ninety four. She's been to Japan and Saudi Arabia, and she deals with veterans who suffer from PTSD.
She's also a disabled combat veteran due to exposures to environmental contaminants in the area that her unit was in in nineteen ninety one. Gustin, that was kuwait. But here's what she writes. I grew up in Oregon and frequently went hunting and fishing with my father every year since I could hold a fishing pole or legally hunt with him. I guess you might say that I knew most of the animals that are normally found in the area near where I lived and hunted during these expeditions into the wilds.
I've never seen, heard, or smelled anything that might be evidence of a sasquatch that lived in the areas where we hunted. I've also been skeptical that such a creature existed even after the Patterson film was released. While I was on active duty, I came home on leave for hunting season, which occurs around my dad and my own birthday every year. The last hunting seasons that I went
with my father before he could no longer hunt. This last hunt trip was near the area where my encounter would occur, and we've seen bears and big cats and elk and deer in that area. I have three cats, and I've always kept three since I left active duty. My cat's age and pass on, and I take them and bury them in the same area that all of our pets have been buried over the years. Since there are bears in the area of our little pet cemetery,
I carry a side arm when I'm up there. I also remain alert to the sounds around me because of bearing big cats. My big time cat, I'm going to try to pronounce his name, Shot in Yeger. Shot in Yeger. It's a German name. I'd spell it for you, but just suffice it to say Shot in Yeger passed away the day before the encounter. On June eighteenth of twenty nineteen, the afternoon of the nineteenth, I took him up to the little pet Cemetery below Harness Mountain, which is located
in Douglas County in Oregon. I was digging the small grave and was nearly done when I heard what I thought was a bear moving through their brush on the small hill above the pond. The breeze shifted and I got a whiff of a strong musky smell, and I thought I had a bear, either stalking me or passing close by. I drew my pistol and I chambered around,
and what happened next caught me totally by surprise. There was a loud grunt and something started to stomp through the trees, and it was snapping branches as it went. The dry ground made the stomping sound like hollow drum beats. Well, I finished digging the grave while the creature circled me, stomping and grunning, And when it was the opposite of me across the pond, it picked up a big rock about the size of a medium Hermiston watermelon and threw
it across the pine toward me. It landed a short distance from the bank, and it splashed water up to where I was digging. Well. This was disconcerting, so I finished the burial without any ceremony, and I stacked some large rocks on the grave that I had hauled up with me to protect it, and then I I got ready to leave. While I was still there, I heard branches being snapped, and at one point I saw a large snag maybe twenty feet tall and a good eighteen
inches thick get pushed over. I finished up, and then I loaded my tools back into the pickup and I got ready to drive off, and I heard another loud grunt from the hill behind me. I got in and pulled out onto the main road and started to drive away. As I passed through a clump of brush near the swampy area, a rock came flying from the brush and hit my windshield, knocking a big round chip out of it down the road a bit. A long piece of branch hit the pickup and landed in the bed. So
I sped up and I got out of there. The rock that hit the windshield had dropped down into the opening between the windshield and under the rear edge of the hood and The rock was larger than a soft ball, and the branch measured eight feet long and four inches thick along the length. It was too large and heavy to have been easily thrown by a human. After reflecting on this encounter, there must have been more than one of them, based on the distance between where the rock
was thrown and where the branch was thrown. I went back up there a couple of weeks later to check on the fresh grave to be sure that it had not been dug up by a wild predator, and I planted some native iris. The new grave was untouched, but on top of the three little graves, I found that some large flat river rocks had been placed on top. The nearest source for those type of rocks was fifteen miles away. As I was leaving on this trip, another
rock was thrown at my pickup. It was as I drove away, and this one landed in the bed, doing no damage. The rock was close to the same type and size as those being used on the newer logging roads in the area. In the summer of twenty nineteen, it was a dry year and many of the springs had dried up. In the pond was probably the only source of water near These creatures may have been trying to drive me so that they could access the water. I never saw the creatures that I encountered, but one
thing is for sure. Bears don't stomp, nor can they throw rocks or sticks. I've heard later that when sisquatch throws rocks, they lobbed them underhanded. But the rocks that were thrown at me were thrown with a flat trajectory, like a baseball. I didn't take time to search for the tracks or any other evidence of what had been trying to intimidate me. I felt that I was not welcome in that area, at least when I was there. There has been elkin deer hunting since my encounter, so
many of these creatures have moved on. It has now been a year since I've been up there last, but I will be going back when my elderly cat passes on. Since this encounter, I have a video camera set up in my pickup and I now explore the back roads in the area where I live, and when I record the intro to each video, I jokingly say, maybe I'll
catch the big Harry Goull on this trip. Well, I guess maybe I'm looking to catch one of these creatures on video, but I enjoy the videos of wildlife, wildflowers, mountains, waterfalls and whatever I do find. And she signs off as Shelley of the PNW, and she reminds me that PNW means Pacific Northwest. I actually knew that one. Can you believe that that's one of them? I actually knew, But I thought this was a crazy story. I mean,
you've got a pet cemetery. I don't know. Whenever we have pets die, we just kind of we just bury them in the yard, or you know, if it's not a real close pet, or if it's a chicken or something, we just throw them out in the woods and let the predators get them or scavengers. But the pet cemetery thing, that's kind of a neat idea to find a place out in the middle of nowhere and bury your pets.
I like that idea. I've never thought of that. To be there saying goodbye to a treasured pet and then be harassed by bigfoot is And I know people say, well, you're in their area, blah blah blah. If they're as smart as people think they are, then they know what this woman's doing. She's carrying a dead cat. She's digging a hole to bury the cat. She's not coming in moving in on their territory. And if they're as smart as people think they are, they should know that. And
I don't. It kind of bothers me that they harass people that are just not doing much of anything but walking or whatever. I mean, I'm not really mad about it. I'm just like, I don't know. I guess I have a bit of a heart for this woman because she's bearing a pet. We have a lot of pets, and I love them. And I don't know. I'm just rambling on, but I thought it was a great story. You know, obviously they can be dangerous. One of those rocks could have come through the windshield and hit her in the
head and killed her. Come on, that stick four inches round and eight feet long. That's a dangerous weapon. That's the way it went. And she doesn't seem to be too scared, so she says she's going back out there. I think that's pretty cool. I think that's pretty cool. So thanks Shelly for sending the story. In nineteen eighty two, when I was in the Air Force and stationed at
Fairchild Air Force Base and spoke in Washington. I was training to be a survival instructor, so I spent a great deal of time in the Connects, Sue, I don't know Ka, n IKSU connect Sioux National Forests. I've always loved the piece I feel when I'm out in nature. I've never hunted, but did a lot of camping and fishing. While I was in training. I had to learn to set traps and field dress game and tan hides. Also learned to make jerky and smoked fish and a smoker
that we made in camp. I know how to live out in the middle of nowhere. In nineteen eighty two, my ex husband and I drove from spoke In to the West Coast Beach outside of Seattle to spend the day and have some fun. It was off season, so we had the beach to ourselves. The drive back was long and we started late for home. We were both exhausted, so we decided to make camp. On the way back. We found a stretch of woods between the road and
the river. It was pretty far back in there, but the state or county had set up a little camping area with brick grills and stone picnic tables. Because it was late in the year, it was getting chilly. No one else was around, which meant it would be quiet and peaceful. We set up our tent and we made a fire and ate dinner, and then we went to bed. And something woke me up at two am, but I
didn't know what it was. I lay there listening, thinking maybe an animal of some sort was walking around the campsite. I was wide awake now, but I couldn't hear anything now. I didn't notice before we went to sleep, but now I was aware that there were no sounds of insects, birds, or any other animals. It was just too quiet. I tried to convince myself that it was because it was so cold out, and I tried to go back to sleep, and the longer I laid there, the more antsy I got.
I didn't know why, but I was uncomfortable and I was scared. It got so bad that I had to get up and see if there was anything going on outside. I climbed out of the tent, doing my best not to wake my husband. He had a way of making me feel like an idiot and laughing at me about these things. Since I was already upset, I didn't feel like I needed the extra burden of him picking at me. And I sat there at the picnic table, watching and listening,
but I couldn't find anything wrong. Even so, this uneasy feeling I had was getting worse. After thirty minutes with nothing going on, I kicked myself in the butt for being so silly, and I crawled back in the tent. I still couldn't go back to sleep. In fact, I was growing more and more afraid. Finally I decided to get back out. For some reason, I knew there was something out there that was dangerous and I couldn't see it.
More than anything, I wanted to leave, but I was worried about waking my husband up for something that I couldn't explain. The terror built until I began to cry, even though I still didn't know why. When I couldn't take it anymore, I woke him up, and when I tried to explain what I was feeling, I was astonished to find that he didn't make fun of me or get mad. He just got up and started packing. We loaded up the car, and we left, without ever knowing
the reason for my terror. Now i've thought about it often over the years, and I've tried to work out why the whole thing happened. Then, in twenty eleven, I learned about the capture of Geary Ridgeway, the Green River Killer. The river we can't buy was the Green River, and we could see the bridge where he'd dumped one of his victims from where we camp. I've often pondered what I was so afraid of that night, and could it have been something to do with him or his victims.
I've never had the gift of discernment that my little sister has, nor have I ever had a supernatural experience. I don't know why I would have been so afraid of something that I couldn't see. After listening to your storytelling, I have to wonder if that uncomfortable feeling was because a sasquatch was nearby. It seems that others have felt that way when they've had their experiences. I'll never know why. Was it a serial killer, was it a sasquatch or
was it just me? Gary Ridgeway was caught due in part to the assistance of Ted Bundy. Bundy offered his help, and ultimately because of his advice, they caught Ridgeway. It was nearly twelve years after Bundy died, but it was by acting on Bundy's intricate knowledge and understanding of his own kind that they were eventually able to arrest and convict Ridgeway. Here's a story about a bigfoot in Virginia. This is really good and it's got some interesting twists
and a little bit of trivia with it. The writer gives the story a title, The Danville wild Man, and he actually writes it's a true experience by Posey Gilbert. Now I don't know if he's the author or what. But I don't know, but I'm gonna read the story he sent it. So when people send me a story, I assume they wanted on the podcast. So that's what
I'm doing here. In nineteen fifty eight, my parents and my siblings and I went to visit my grandmother's parents who lived back in the mountains and rolling hills of Danville, Virginia. Whenever it started to get dark, Grannie would say, it's time for y'all to come inside now, because the wild Man would be coming out soon. How do you like that voice? I'm practicing on doing some voices. Anyway, let's
move on. I was seven then and always imagined a skinny, little unshaven cartoon cave man running around in the leopard skin carrying a big club. I thought it was really just another Boogeyman story to keep kids in line. At least that's what my older brother Chuck said it was when I asked him about it the next day. As she often did, my Aunt Bella, to keep us from underfoot, told her two oldest sons, Billy and Jimmy, to take us with them into the woods when they went to
gather some firewood. As we scoured the forest floor for kindling and dry broken branches, Billy and Jimmy took to showing us the various wild berries and plants and roots and mushrooms that we could eat and those that were poison us and that we should not even touch. We came on a clearing that was surrounded by tall trees, and Jimmy said it would be better if we spread out a bit and looked around. The truth is that this was an adventure for Chuck and Ie, but this
was just another chore for them. Board they climbed the two giant trees in the clearing and they watched Chuck and Ie. As we did their work. I was assigned the kindling, while Chuck was told to look for the thicker branches. They knew that we wouldn't find anything in that clearing, but that way they could keep us busy in an eye on both of us at the same time time. I was getting frustrated because I couldn't find anything.
And then I went to the edge of the clearing and I saw that it dropped off on to the lower level. I saw what I thought was a pile of twigs and branches, and I jumped down and I ran over to it. And as I neared the pile, I found myself not standing before a mound of twigs and branches, but in front of what looked like an igloo of woven branches and sticks, or a big upside down burd nest. I immediately started to call for Chuck, and in a matter of seconds, he and my two
cousins were standing at the top of the bank. They were all out of breath and pale with worry as they looked down at me. What the hell are you screaming like that for, Billy asked, I thought it was a damn snake. It got a hold of you, Jimmy scolded me. They had gotten there so fast that it startled me. They must have started to run toward me when they saw me jump down off the bank. What did you come down here for, anyway, Chuck asked, between gasp.
Look look what I found, I said, happily, pointing to my discovery. I ran over and started to crawl into the opening. Boy, get your ass out of there, Jimmy screamed to me. That could be a bear cave. That ain't no bear cave, I encountered. You can look right through the branches and you can see there's nothing in there. Yeah, but the bear might be coming back. We need to go, Billy said, ending the conversation. Let's go. I think we
got enough wood. Anyway. We never spoke about it again after that, but it's like anything strange that happened to me, and it never left my mind. What was that thing and who had built it? For years afterwards, it would cross my mind. And then last year on Monster Quest they did a program on what they call the grass people or the Grassman of Ohio, which was another name
used for Bigfoot like creatures. I was cooking and not really watching it until they flashed a picture of the thing I found that day out in the woods with Chuck, Billy and Jimmy. There's also a documentary called Southern Fried Bigfoot, and in it they talk about the fact that Bigfoot has a lot of different names boogers, wildman, skunk apes, depending on the locality it is being seen in, but it is all the same or similar creatures. The name they commonly use for it in Virginia is the wild Man.
In fact, when you enter Danville, there's a sign that says, Welcome to Danville, Home of the Bigfoot. Well, shouldn't that say home of the wild Man? If they use I don't know. He gives a link for the Monster Quest Ohio Grassman Part one video. I guess it's a YouTube video, and there's also a Monster Quest Ohio Grassman Part two, Legend of Boggie Creek. Now, how could it be The Ohio Grassman Part two? The Legend of Boggy Creek Boggy Creek in Arkansas. I don't know. There's a few things
in there that just kind of confuse me. However, it was a good The meat of the whole thing was a good story. The shelter that he found that. You know, those things don't just build themselves out there in the wild. So it's either a person going out there, I don't know, maybe being creative, or it's some kind of animal that is able to use its hands and actually build a structure, because no other animal, save a monkey, can build those kind of things because they don't have hands and arms
to manipulate things. I mean, raccoons do, but they're not strong enough to bend those type of limbs. Let's see what other animal has hands. Possums kind of do, but I don't know that they use them for manipulate them. I know raccoons do because they clean their food and they you know, they feed themselves with their hands. Bears have pauls, but they don't really use them to manipulate things. They just use them to capture and climb and stuff
like that. Anyway, my mind is just wondering, and I'm rambling on all that to say, this was a great story and I really appreciate the man sending it. Thank you, sir.