Archive 167 Bigfoot

game trails going all over the ridge. Mike decided to check out the area the next morning with his wife. The next afternoon, they all met back at camp, and Mike reported that they had something strange happened while they were up there exploring the game trail. He told Ted that as they were walking, suddenly, about fifty yards or so up the trail, they noticed that a twenty five foot tree was being shaken violently, but they didn't see

anything that could have caused the tree to shake. They both agreed that it must have been a bear, as they were not sure what else it could have been. The next morning, Mike and his wife decided to go back to check it out, while Ted and his family decided to go explore some nearby caves. When they returned to camp, Mike's tent and all their belongings were gone. All that was left was a note saying that they had run into a bigfoot and they were heading home.

Mike explained to Ted what happened the next day on the phone after everyone had returned home. He said that they made it up to the tree that was being shaken, and they were looking for tracks when he heard some brush rustle towards the top of the hill. When he looked up, a boulder of the size of a basketball was flying through the air towards them and landed on the trail right in front of them, shaking the ground

as it hit. At this moment, he said that every hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. Before he could say anything to his wife, here comes another rock, similar in size, and this time the boulder landed to their right. He explained that when this happened, fear had taken over and he could fear his back tents up. And then here comes the third rock, landing

right there as well. He raised his twenty two rifle and shot three times over the area where the rocks were coming from, and then he shouted as anybody up there. After waiting with no response, Mike had an eerie feeling and he yelled to his wife, let's get out of here before we die. After talking with his brothers about this experience, a plan was put together to go back to the area soon and find out what the heck was going on. The following Saturday, they loaded for bear.

Ted had a twenty two mag pistol and a two seventy rifle and an Arkansas toothpick, which is actually a big knife. Mike had a three hundred Weatherby mag and a twenty two mag pistol as well as a knife, and both of them had pockets full of bullets. They loaded up the suburban with all their gear, plus their wives and all the kids, and they headed out early Saturday morning, arriving around seven am. Everything seemed normal, very calm, no winds, birds were chirping, squirrels were playing, and the

sun was coming up in the east. Ted and Mike grabbed their guns and headed to the spot where the tree was. They had made it to the tree and were looking for the rocks, keeping one eye on the ridge where the rocks had come from, and out of nowhere, a violent crash sounded from the exact spot where the rocks had come from last week. It sounded like a tree was being picked up and slam against another tree.

Holy crap. Immediately they were each down on one knee looking through their scopes trying to find whatever had just made that noise. Then they noticed that the woods had shut down with no noise whatsoever. Mike was also scanning the hillside with his rifle as Ted walked over to him, whispering what in the world was that. They stood for a few moments in silence, and Ted said to Mike, if it charges, I'm gonna kill it. About that time, a second thunderous crash happened again in the same spot.

Ted's heart was in his throat and beating like a drunk. As they both stood scanning the trees with their rifles. Ted looked at Mike and said, let's walk up there and let's flush it out in the open. Mike must have thought to himself, good grief, this guy's got a set. Holy crap. As they started up a hill, the third crash happened, Guns loaded and safeties off. They slowly started walking up the hill toward where they heard the last crash. They got halfway up the hill and suddenly heard a

suburban start up. Fearing the worst, they turned and took off on a dead run to the rig. They arrived in a panic, only to find that their wives and kids had become cold sitting in the rig and needed to run the heater. Ted looked at Mike and asked, do you want to go back up there, and Mike replied, heck no, my heart cannot take it. They never saw anything, but concluded that their experience was typical Bigfoot behavior, shaking of trees, throwing rocks, whacking sticks, and that's our story.

Chapter two, The Midnight Visitor. Six years later, in the fall of two thousand and eight, Ted, his wife Jenny, and their daughter Lauren, as well as Ted's older brother Traps, had drawn deer tags for the Metolius unit and were excited for opening day. They arrived Friday evening and set up camp near where they had camped with Ted's older

brother a few years earlier. They put their two tents up about eight feet apart, with a giant tarp that was thirty by twenty five feet in the trees about ten feet up to keep the rain and the dew off of them and their supplies. They had plans to stay Friday night until the following weekend, nine days in total. Everything was going great. They were seeing lots of deer passing on some smaller bucks and hoping for bigger ones to appear. On Wednesday evening, after dinner, they decided to

play a game of Bolder Dash. It had been a long day as they had risen early, and everyone seemed to have giggles, especially Ted and Travis when it came to weird words on the playing cards. Let's just say they were all having a great time at hunting camp without a care in the world, and then they finally decided to go to bed around ten o'clock. Around two am, Ted was awakened to heavy footsteps coming toward the camp from his brother's truck that was parked about one hundred

feet from the camp. It was dead calm out in about fifteen degrees fahrenheit. The ground was crunchy because of the freezing weather. Ted had been sleeping with his two seventy savage by his right side, loaded and ready, with his wife and daughter sleeping to his left. His first thought was Travis went to his truck for something and I'm only hearing him coming back to camp. As it was walking toward camp, Ted could distinctly hear that it was walking on two legs, and as it was getting closer,

he started to hear it breathe. He thought that his brother might have had an upset stomach and must have gone to the truck to get some pills. But as he heard it walking towards camp, it sounded like it stopped at the fire pit. The sound was like Darth Vader breathing, low and deep. Unbeknownst to Ted, his brother was now awaking his own tent, and he was thinking that it was Ted gathering firewood in the middle of

the night, and that he was out of breath. As both men were lying there in their separate tents, they realized about the same time what they were dealing with. This heavy breathing went on for ten to fifteen minutes. Ted was thinking that it was spending a lot of time there because of all the odors, as that is where he had been doing all the cooking. He could not get himself out of bed to peek, but remained motionless, listening so intently that he was not thinking of anything else.

Then it walked over to Travis's tent and stood right in front of the doorway and remained there for several minutes and still breathing like Darth Vader. It seemed as if he was contemplating what to do next or wondering what he was smelling. Later, Travis remarked that the sound of his breathing seemed to be coming from the top part of the tent, about seven and a half to eight feet high. Travis never moved a muscle, controlling his breathing and thinking, I left my gun in my truck.

Oh crap. And then they both heard it walk off into the woods about fifty feet and then it stopped. It was there for quite a while and then started walking again up the hill, and then everything went silent, and then suddenly they both heard two long, clear calls that sounded like a whoop up the hill in the distance. Soon the brothers both got up and built a huge fire and started talking about the encounter, each telling the other,

I thought that was you. When daylight came, they I told the girls what had happened and began looking around the area for tracks. They didn't find anything, but they realized that they were not leaving tracks either because of the frozen ground, which was littered with pine needles and small rocks. As they were recalling the experiences the previous night, they both agreed that they heard it leave camp and

stop about fifty feet out. They all then began to scan the woods to find out what it may have been doing, and then Travis yelled out, I found something. That something ended up being a giant tird that the bigfoot had left. Travis looked at it and exclaimed, I have hunted my entire life and I've never seen a tird like this. Lauren joked that it was probably hers. These people have a sense of humor. I love it.

It was about twelve inches long and three to four inches around and had pieces of bark and leaves in it. Travis said that they should wrap it in fall and put it in the cooler, to which Jenny replied, oh, hell no. As they stood there that morning, they were in disbelief that they experienced another bigfoot encounter close to the spot where they had come across him a few years before. Ted remembered reading once that bigfoot is attracted to laughter and noise. Now he knows they are coincidentally

Travis decided to go home later that day. Chapter three, I finally got a glimpse of one. In twenty seventeen, Ted and his wife Jenny had purchased elk tags for the Cascade Range in Oregon. They got up early on opening morning, threw all the gear in the truck, and headed out in hopes to bag a couple of bull elk. They decided to begin their day in the woods around the Marion Forks on Highway twenty two and then travel Sheep Creek to Highway twenty. This would provide a full

day of hunting and driving. That afternoon, they arrived at Highway twenty and Ted said to Jenny, well, we have at least one hour of daylight left. If we head to our old deer camp area where we have all the bigfoot activity, we could hunt the last half hour of daylight. Jenny agreed, and as they arrived at the area, the sun was going down and the woods were getting dark. Ted made a turn down a gravel road and as he was coming out of a corner, he looked down

the road. About three hundred yards on the left side, he could see something dark, black standing just off the side of the road. Next to the pines. It looked out of place. It was the only thing black that was close to the edge. He slammed on the brakes and he yelled for Jenny to get the binoculars. As he focused the binoculars, he could see the shoulders and the head, but no facial features. It had a cone head.

As he was looking at it through the binoculars, it just stepped off the road and he clearly saw that it walked on two legs. Then he yelled, hang on and punched it to get a little closer. They got to where it had been standing, got out to look and listen for a while, but did not hear or see anything. The next morning he put out two game

cameras on that trail, but he captured nothing. The area where he spotted this bigfoot was about a mile and a half from where they had the midnight visitor in about three quarters of a mile from where the bigfoot says, get the hell out. All these incidents happened in the late summer early fall of the year. The crazy thing about this is the brothers had all heard of bigfoot while growing up, but did not really give it much of thought until these experiences. It serves to change one's

minds about what is out there. Ted's opinion is it is an ape that walks upright like a human and that it is not eternal. It still will move during daylight hours if it needs to. Thanks for listening to our stories and happy Honting. My first encounter happened when I was nine years old. I was fishing with my brother and my stepdad on a remote part of the river in Edwards, New York. We were about two miles back in the woods from any main road or house.

I was fishing by myself in a section of the river when all of a sudden, I had a sense of fear come over me. I was scared like any nine year old boy would be, when all of a sudden, on the other side of the river, a forty foot tall dead pine was pushed over thirty yards inside of the woodline, right in front of me. There was no breeze this day, and no black bear was going to

knock over such a huge tree. It scared me to my core, and being a clueless kid, I ran to find my stepdad at the time, just for a sense of safety. My second encounter happened in a small town in western Vermont, where I have lived my entire life, and I was heading to a job site early that morning. When driving down a two lane country road which I had traveled a thousand times, I came around the corner in the road and a figure stepped out from behind

a tree for a few seconds. As I caught it in the high beams of my lifted Chevy pickup truck, I was at a loss for words when my brother said from the passenger's seat, did you see that too? Judging by the hood of my truck, this thing was all of seven feet tall that had yellow eyes shine. Although the sighting was one of only a few seconds, but I knew what I had seen, and my brother was there too to witness it with me for verification.

My third encounter happened in November of twenty twenty. I was hunting with my brother on an eleven thousand acre parcel of state land around ten in the morning, and I had not seen a thing, when all of a sudden, I had an overwhelming sense of fearing something was watching me in the woods, and everything went quiet, and I couldn't help but fixate on a strange looking stump one hundred and twenty yards out through the hard woods, and it didn't look right. Many people have the experience of

mind speak from these creatures. I knew what was in the area, and I simply said in my mind that I was only here for one deer, and I meant him no harm. Would he please leave me alone? Although I didn't get a response, after five minutes or so, the feelings went away and the stump I was fixated on was gone. I've had many odd things happen to me in the woods in my twenty one years of hunting. These times are definitely the weirdest, so I've been reluctant

to send this to you. I'm a private person, and the less people know about my private life, the better. I have nothing to hide. I just prefer the peaceful forest over the business of crowds and town life. My brother, who sent you his recollection of the event I'm about to relate, is the exact opposite. If there's a crowd gathering in Times Square, you can bet he'll be in the middle of it, telling a story and entertaining the masses.

I think our different personalities and outlooks on life will become evident to anyone who compares the two versions of the story. As for me, I would rather remain anonymous. I will leave identifying details a bit blurred for anonymity's sake. And when my brother sent me his account for review, having already sent it to you, I was pretty upset to see how many identifying details he had included. He feels the details make the story. I'm too private for that.

When I was five, my family moved from Long Island, New York, to a small town in Maine. It was there that I discovered my love for hunting and being in the woods. My dad was not a hunter nor an outdoorsman, but that is all I ever wanted to be. At age seven, I packed a knapsack with canned goods, a sleeping bag, and a hunting knife and a tent, and I sat on my bike with a fishing pole in a tackle box, and I headed off for a few days of camping on top of a local mountain

located a few miles outside of my town. My wife never believed that story until my mother confirmed it, saying it was who he was and we couldn't stop him. I loved being in the woods. I think that's why I joined the Army after high school, I wanted to be out in nature, even if it was wet, muddy, and labor intensive and mandatory fun, as my sergeant would

call it. As an adult, I still love hunting season, from both seasoned to black power to rifle season, and if the deer season is in, I'm in the woods. But nothing I have ever seen or heard would have prepared me for what I saw that night. It was a cold but clear January night, and my brother and I were traveling back from Florida to college in Ohio. We are two years apart, but I had spent two years in the Army after high school, so we were

now classmates in college together. I'd had to cut my Christmas break short to get back for Army reserve duty. The following weekend. We packed my small car with all the clothes and care packages we could fit, and we headed off on the long drive. We switched off driving whenever one of us would get tired, but neither of us truly slept while the other was driving. And during this particular leg, it was in the early morning hours and I was driving I seventy seven through West Virginia.

I was tired, but I had played tent of a mountain, dew coursing through my veins, and combined with the experience of plenty of long nights pulling guard duty, so I knew some techniques to stay awake and alert. Interstate seventy seven northbound was quiet at one am, and there was not much traffic either way. The moon was full or close to it, as I recall, the moonlight lit up a fresh blanket of snow that covered the median and long sloping shoulders on either side of the highway. I

could see ahead for several hundred yards. The air was clear and cold, and there was nothing to obstruct or obscure my field of view. The Army taught me several things that I still used today, target location and ranging, defensive and offensive driving. I never used either skill in combat. I left active duty just prior to our first Gulf War, but I definitely used those skills at night. Ahead of me, on the shoulder of the southbound lanes, I saw what

appeared to be too deer. They were high on the shoulder at the tree line, four to five hundred yards ahead. I easily picked up their movement target acquisition. Seeing deer was fairly common on this stretch of the highway. The lead deer started running toward the highway, with the second one following, but their git was wrong. Something was off about it. As I closed the distance, I saw that

they weren't deer, but perhaps they were wolves. I had heard that West Virginia might have a wolf population, but had never seen a wolf outside of a National geographic special on the television. As I watched the road and the animals, it appeared that they were going to intercept my car. At seventy miles an hour, it wouldn't be long before they were on my side of the highway, and I did not want to hit anything of that

size with the small car. As we sped toward each other, I could see that yes, they were wolf like, but they were not wolves. They were much larger, with downward sloping backs, much like a hyena. I had never seen or heard of anything like this. At one hundred yards or so before impact, the lead creature stood on its two hind legs and in two bounds, crossed the southbound lanes and was halfway across the center median. The second creature was now running and leaping like a human, but

with enormous strides. I could see its wolf like face and teeth bared like an angry dog, and evil eyes. Its upper body was wiry, like a pro fighter. It was a muscular insinewy. I could see the muscle through its coarse hair. Yes it was hair, it was not fur. At the last second, I slammed the gas pedal and the end engine roared. The little sportstor came to life, and we jumped to eighty miles an hour. Almost instantly, the lead creature leaped at the car with its jaws

wide and hate in its eyes. It barely missed the back quarter panel before continuing up the other shoulder into the woods, with its partner following just behind. This event happened over thirty years ago. I just turned fifty this month, and my life has been pretty uneventful since. I've lost the fine points of many of my memories, but I

remembered this story clearly. With that said, I honestly didn't recall my brother being in the car with me, and it wasn't until I read his account that my memory was jogged. Perhaps it was because he was semi sleeping quietly in the passenger seat. I'm not sure, but I do know what I saw, and that I had never heard of a dog man prior to this. I grew up on bigfoot stories ever since we watched Colonel Steve Austin's run in with Sasquatch on The six Million Dollar Man.

But this story has a twist. The next few days I spent getting settled back into my college routine. I got my apartments set up and went back to work at the university bookstore. But the event of that night on I seventy seven still haunted me. This was the early nineteen nineties, before the Internet. There weren't a lot of resources to look things up like we have today. The following weekend, I was at my Army reserve dre

a weekend. Normally, I ate lunch outside the armory on a picnic table under a big oak tree with a few of my buddies. We would laugh and tell stories and lies and other things soldiers do to pass the time. But today it was cold and sleety in the Ohio Valley on a winter day, so we ate inside. As we ate, I told the story of my trip back to campus and the strange creatures I had seen a few of the guys were ribbing me pretty hard about it,

but that was okay. That's army life. We teased the hell out of each other, but we'd lay our lives down for each other without a second thought. It is a strange existence, but those are some of the greatest men I've ever had the privilege of knowing. As I was finishing my story, one of the newer guys to the unit sat down and was listening. He turned a ghost white and I could see most every hair on

his body standing on end. He had recently gotten married and moved from the other side of West Virginia to the Ohio Valley for work and to be closer to the unit. He and his father had packed their belongings into the pickup truck and a moving van. It was a little after midnight when using walkie talkies to communicate, they decided to get off the highway to answer to nature's call. Cell phones had not been in yet. My friend was in the moving van and his dad was

in the truck. They pulled into a gravel parking lot of a small drive in hot dog and ice cream place a few miles off the highway. It was a cold and quiet night without another car in sight. My friend walked a few yards to the wooded edge of the parking lot to believe himself. He was a Gulf War combat vet and a police officer with a keen sense of situational awareness. As he stood there, his father was in the van fifteen yards or so behind him, making small talk. He could hear what sounded like a

few dogs or coyote. He's about ten or so yards into the dark woods ahead of him that were darting back and forth from his left to his right, and he could hear the footfalls on leaves and thought coyotes are big dogs. They kept their distance as he finished, but then he heard a deep, low growl that went right through him. His dad yelled out, what the hell was that. He was buckling his belt as he started to turn back to the truck when the footfall sounds

went from four doglike feet to two heavy footfalls. The yips became low growls and barks and blood curdling screams, and he began running to the truck, yelling for his dad to get the gun, he said. His dad grabbed his nineteen eleven from the holster next to him and fired off five rounds into the woodline. My friend never did see what it was, but he said it went from running on four legs to running on two, and it was big. He said he had never been so

scared in all his life. They tore out of there and arrived at the new house about an hour later. They were both tired and in a state of shock. The next morning, over coffee, they kind of stared at each other, neither one able to believe what they had heard. Thank you for protecting my privacy. I live in a small town in North Carolina now, and I'm fairly well known. I truly enjoy my privacy and would like to keep it that way.

saying it was a bigfoot. He said, I don't really know if it was. But a long time ago, when I was a kid, about eleven years old, me and a friend were fishing down on the creek. It was getting to be time to pack up and head home, but I had just gotten a bite, so I wanted to give it a few more casts. My friend wanted to get going, so he said he'd meet me up the trail by the road. I cast my line three more times before I decided it was time to go. From out of nowhere, I was picked up by what

I took to be someone in a gorilla suit. He put me on his right shoulder like your dad would when you were little, and started walking into the woods. I was not scared because I thought someone might be pulling a prank on me. I was not going to let them get the best of me, so I just enjoyed the ride and held onto his head with my left hand while he held my legs to his chest. After about thirty minutes or so of walking in the woods, I started to wonder who was doing this and where

we were going. After all, it was getting dark and it didn't look like we were headed home. We rounded the corner of a hillside, and suddenly there were three more, one who looked like a mom, and two smaller ones almost my size. He sat me down on the ground in a little nook formed by the hillside in some trees. It almost looked like the trees naturally fell that way, but if you really looked, you could tell that it was made to hide in. The ground was covered and

the kind of grass found in a river bottom. It seemed like a nice, warm place. The one who'd brought me there, that I now saw as the dad, stepped into the opening of the nook and sat down looking out. The mom started feeding us all some berries and some kind of root. None of it was very good. After about an hour, everyone started to settle down and fall asleep. Relieved, I climbed out of the nook and started home. In the pitch black, It took all night to find my

way out of the woods. By the time I made it home it was very late. My friend had gone and got my dad. They'd come back to look for me and found my fishing pole and tackle box. When I got home, Mom and Dad were talking with the police. There must have been about twenty men there. Some of them had dogs, and they were all getting ready to go out looking for me. When I told my dad and the policeman what had happened. The policeman looked at

me and my dad and said, I believe him. No one ever asked me about it again, not my dad, not my mom, and not the police. I'm not sure if my dad was as willing to believe me as the cop was. To this day, I'm still not sure if it was some kind of prank. I just know what happened. After my friend finished telling his story, I just looked at him and told him I believe him too. I don't know if it really is true, but he has never been one to tell lies or stretch the truth.

And I've known him for twenty five years, and all that time, I've only heard him tell the story two times. There were ten years between each telling, but the story didn't change. Plus, he only told it because one of his children or the neighbor's kid asked him about it.

that rather looked down on us. My crew was young, but talented, and they were eager and wanted to learn new methods of fabrication. By the time I cut out the lights, it was past two am. Everyone hit their rack, and I was sitting there in my truck with the motor running, ready to drive the two blocks back to our rental house. And then it hit me. It was that deep, growling, angry instinct to turn right and hit

the waffle house. If I was lucky, some of the strippers from the only club for two hundred miles might be snacking there. The idea forced my hands to make the right turn motion on the steering wheel, and off I went. The whole way there. I never even considered the fact that my underwear was older than the girls. This was not to be the harsh reality I was met with when I swung open the door to the

waffle house. In fact, thinking back on it now, the smell was in the parking lot when I had pulled up. I used to live near a paper mill that was close to an inner coastal waterway. And if you took those two odors and mixed in some skump, a cat litter box, and some horse piss and opened it up at a garbage dump, well it was like that. Even so, my hanger was unaffected, and I walked in like I

owned the place. And as usual, honey Pie was at her station while he was on the grill with his giant grin, and Maria was working the floor, and what should normally be a packed house was replaced by three of the scariest dudes I have ever seen. Honey Pie she had a nickname for every customer. Had my coffee. Sitting at my normal spot on the end of the counter, nearest the AC unit in the window, I found a great deal of relief from the odor, but I was

also adjacent to these three scary looking dudes. There was no way to avoid making eye contact with them, and a chill ran down my spine as I tried to look away. The first thing I noticed was an air Gas Memphis logo on the loud guy's shirt, and I figured he was the boss because the other two were listening intently to his every word. The conversation abruptly ended as soon as I sat down. The guy on the right of him was a huge black man. He had

a strange, powerful look. He looked like he would be the kind of guy you wanted on your side if the ship went down. He strangely reminded me of John Coffee from the movie The Green Mile. On the other end was a guy with a T shirt adorning skulls and electric guitars, and it was stained badly with what looked like dried blood. He had a huge gun hanging off his belt and a homemade, leathery looking fur back. That's the only way I know how to describe it.

It was nasty looking. The gun, the bag, my bar mates, all of it filled me with a sense of dread. My hands trembled as I sipped my coffee, and I hoped they didn't see how nervous I was and skinned me alive right there. But just then the leader looked at me dead in the eyes. He seemed to scan me and it was like being analyzed and evaluated at the same time. Well, I felt naked and afraid. I had visions of the strippers coming in later and kicking small pieces of me out of the way so they

could put down their purses. And just as I was trying to look away away from him, he smiled at me with a big, shittying grin and he said, are you a welder. Well, a huge sense of relief came over me, and I realized it was okay to breathe. Yes, sir, I replied. Looking for common ground, I asked, are you guys here working on the movie? Well? This brought a huge round of laughter from all three of them, which

somehow made me feel uneasy. And he leaned over and stuck out his dirty, calloused hand and he said, I'm Steve, and this is Lewis and this is Hook. We're stopping in on a hunting trip. What's the movie you're working on? Well, from this point on we got along. Gray Lewis wasn't very talkative, but he had a great laugh that shook the cups on the wall. Hook and I talked about motorcycles, and I pulled out some pictures of my old sixty seven hardtail Bonnivale and my seventy two T one twenty

V race bike. We laughed and told colorful stories about racetracks and bike rallies, and Steve kept quizzing me on welding techniques and plasma cutting. At times I felt like I was being interviewed for a job in Hell. But his good nature was reassuring, and the dread I experience turned into a fun experience with some obviously nefarious individuals.

They all laughed when I told them how the LA crew was struggling with the panels matching on the top of the spacecraft we were building, but they seemed to miss the detail on the plan that in the scene the spaceship was upside down on the beach. Well, after a couple of hours of laughing my ass off, we got up to leave at the same time, and Honey Pie brought the bill and Steve grabbed my ticket and he winked at me. I got this devil by here's my number. If you come to Memphis, you give me

a call. Well, I've never been to Memphis since. Well, there's another story with people running into Steve Lily and his crew. What is going on. If you guys have run into Steve Lily, or if you know someone who's run into the Squatch Operator's crew, send me an email and tell me your experience and I will get it in a podcast. Write it clear and crisp. So I don't have a lot of editing to do, but I would love to share these stories of you guys running

into the Steve Lily crew. I think they're awesome, all right. A few weeks ago I got a couple of emails from guys who had run into Steve Lily and his crew while doing various things. I've got several more, and I thought I would share this one with you and end this podcast up and with a happy note. So this gentleman writes his story, and he says, opened my eyes and I looked at the clock and it was four am. I rolled out of bed, and I had coffee in I got suited up and got my thermos

of coffee and some sandwiches ready. It's the first day of rifle deer season in Vermont. I have my backpack and my rifle and a handful of AMMO, and I started from my deer stand that I set up two weeks ago. Well. I saw my breath and a wave of cold air hit me, making me want to go back into my warm bed, and I slung my backpack over my shoulder and I started to walk to my tree stand. I needed to cut through it. Thirty minutes later, I was in my tree stand and I looked at

my watch and it was five thirty am. So I started to get comfortable. I saw headlights coming down the dirt road. It turned down the dirt driveway and stopped, and the lights went off and everything went silent, and I thought, probably hunting back on the old Stevenson's place. And I settled back in and I got comfortable. It was an hour later and the sun was up pretty good, but I didn't see any activity. The birds were quiet, and the flock of turkeys I heard this morning hadn't

even made an appearance. Another thirty minutes and I don't hear anything in the woods. There were no squirrels, no footsteps in the leaves on the ground. And then I heard two car door slam and then I hear gunshots, and then a tall, hairy person started running at my tree stand. I could see four bullet wounds on him. There were three in the chest and one in its thigh, and it kept charging at me. And I chambered around and I aim for where I thought the heart would be,

and I fired. It kept running for a few minutes, but it dropped like a rock. I slowly lowered my rifle and I took a deep breath. I thought, how am I going to explain this? What is this thing? A few minutes later, I heard someone in front of me say, well, that's nice shooting there, brother, Glad you didn't go for the head. I was so focused on the creature on the ground, I didn't notice the two men walking up. Well. I climbed down and I walked

over and I introduced myself. Hey, y all, my name's Tater. Hey, my name's Steve. This is Huck the introductions, I noticed hook cutting off this thing's head. Why are you cutting off its head? I said, And what is this thing? You don't know what this is? This is a squatch, it's a bigfoot. We need it so we can get paid. There three more over that hill. Now, look, we're gonna share the money with you because you finished this one off. Steve said, you get paid for doing this. I asked, well, yeah,

you know Imo and Gas ain't cheap. Hook said, well, originally we came up here to fish, but we got called to do this job. Man, that's a sweet gig, I said. We shook hands and they walked off with these heads, and I never saw them again. And on my way home, I thought to myself, how am I gonna explain the shots that we're fired up here and I'm not coming home with any deer. I'm gonna be made fun of for that. Steve Lily is in Vermont? What what? I didn't even know that. Anyway, you guys

keep sending these Steve Lilly encounter stories. He seems to be getting around quite a bit. Thanks to the writer for letting us know you run into old Steve Lilly.