Archive 194 Bigfoot

huge ball. There would be fifteen to twenty that would come out and then zip around in all directions, heading off to who knows where. Then sometime later, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, they'd all start coming back, first a couple and then a few more. We started calling the big ball the mother ship. If the smaller bass sailed over our local radio station, it would go off the air. There was a lake about five miles from town, and

they were seen coming out of that. These things were all over the place, but we never understood their interest in our town. One night, as we were coming back into town, we decided to drive through it and turn around at the feed store a couple of miles on the other side. As I was pulling into the parking lot, we suddenly saw a huge object floating up from the field behind it. We all jumped out of the car to see what it was. This thing was almost as

big as the field that it was rising from. It had a dim glow, so we could see that it was round. There were portholes all around with different colored lights. I tried my best to see what was inside, but I couldn't see anything. It was completely silent. We watched as it floated above the telephone poles, and then, with lightning speed, it took off and was gone in three seconds. Shortly after that we moved to Kentucky, so we've never

seen any other events. My mother, however, just told me a couple of years before she died of something she had witnessed. It wasn't long before her husband passed away. She had been visiting my brother and was in her car heading home when she saw something in the sky she could not identify. She had to stop and take a look. She said it was a see through like cling wrap, but floating and moving like a flag wood. It didn't seem to be in a hurry. It just

moved slowly across the sky. We could never decide what it could be, but it was definitely something. If anyone knows what this thing might be, please comment. I don't even know what to call it. I would love to know what it is. I wanted to share these stories with you and the audience, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. You may use my name and you can

interview me if you like. Best regards, Anita. I stumbled across Dixie Cryptid on YouTube about a month ago, and I thoroughly enjoy what people are willing to share about their experiences with Bigfoot. I'm amazed at how much information is out there on this creature, and I'm intrigued by it. In fact, I've been intrigued by it since nineteen seventy eight, when I had my one and only experience. At that time, I was fifteen years old. So here we go, all right,

here we go. Back around nineteen seventy seven or seventy eight, I was spending an October weekend at my dad and uncle's hunting camp near the south shore of Lake Superior in the north central Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The camp was built by my great grandfather. As usual, there were a bunch of guys at camp, including my dad, my uncle, my grandfather, and their hunting partners. All of these men were World War II, Korean War in Vietnam vets. They

were big and strong and fearless outdoorsmen. When you shook their hand, you knew you had a hold of something. Our camp included two hundred and fifty acres of heavily wooded and rugged land. Our neighbors to the east and north of us owned a couple of thousand acres, also the same terrain and woods. My father and my uncle were hosting our annual woodcutting bee for the upcoming November deer season and winter snowshoe hair season. I loved the autumn up there, with the crisp bear and the colors

and the smells. Sunday morning of that weekend was spectacular. As usual, Grandpa had made a hearty breakfast like only his generation could make. Now I needed to walk it off, and I asked Dad if I could go grouse and squirrel hunting before we started on the wood. He gave me two hours before I had to be back, so I loaded up my shotgun, put on my orange hat off down the camp road. Back then, the area was extremely remote, with only one country road. Our camp was

a mile down a two rut road. Off the country road, I swung south of the camp road and up into the hills that were covered with oak and sugar maple and poplar. I was hoping to jump a rough grouse and maybe bag a couple of big gray squirrels. I had walked the land with Dad and Grandpa often, and I knew the lay of it. I had a compass pen to my hunting vest in case I got turned around. There was no such thing as cell phones to call for help in those days, and back then I was

a tall and skinny kid. I was six foot one, but I could put the miles under my feet and I still can. About halfway into the hills, I decided to take a break in my uncle Charlie's seat in an area we called the big Ravine. And as I sat on the side of the ravine, I could hear something coming behind me. Well, I swung around in my seat and I got my shotgun ready, and over the hill came a red fox at a dead run. He

came within twenty feet of me. Well, I didn't want to shoot the fox, so I just watched him slink through the forest. It was really cool and I couldn't wait to tell the guys what I had seen, And then I wondered what had spooked the fox, as there was nobody around for miles or so. I fought. Twenty minutes went by, and I felt rested enough to turn back north and walk over to a stand where I

had seen a black bear while hunting recently. For about two weeks, I'd been baiting bear with fish scraps and such that I'd obtain from a local fish market in town. I figured it'd be a great bear bait and bring them in, and it worked. My intent was to see if I needed to replenish my bait bucket, which hung about six feet off the ground, and the bait stand with more fish and snacks, and so off I went. I used another two rut road on the property my

Grandpa maintained for walking. It was quiet walking because the forest had melted off the leaves and the ground was damp on the road, and I walked silently to my bear stand. I knew the route that I was taking, and as I walked over the hip of a small knoll where my stand was located, I could see the bait bucket had been pulled down. Well. This was a good sign because bear were the only animal that could

reach up and snap the rope the bucket was hanging from. Furthermore, I could smell something sour, which I figured was a bear. But black bear are nearly always nocturnal, and they only come out just before dark and then they disappear before dawn. Big bears get big for this reason. I climbed up over the hip of the knoll and I moved silently in the damp leaves, and then I saw something big, black and hairy over the bucket, laying on the ground.

It was on all fours. My first thought was, holy smoked, that is really a big bear. And in broad daylight I could hear it rummaging around, which is why it probably hadn't heard me coming. Its hair and fur was kind of shiny. I wasn't thinking about anything but bear at that point, and I wished I had more than my twenty gauge pump with me. All of a sudden, this thing stopped what it was doing and it lifted

its head to look around. Well, I'd positioned myself to shoot if I had to, should the bear charge me, Well, this thing was huge. I had a good view of the back inside of his head, and I was wondering why his or her head was shaped pointy. It looked left and then right, and then was facing away from me. If I'd had my dear rifle with me, that would have been one dead bear with a funny shaped head like that. Grandpa would have bawled me out if I'd have shot that bear and hauled me back to camp.

And then I thought, man, this thing stinks. And then this thing must have sensed me, but it didn't know where I was. I was only fifty feet away, and all of a sudden, it took off on all fours directly away from me, and I was thinking, what in the hell is this thing? It ran like a cheetah from the TV series Doc Torre. Bears don't run like that. Not spend enough time in the woods to know this. Anyway, I was standing there in amazement until I couldn't hear

it running any longer. I wasn't the least bit scared. I was armed, and I knew Dad and the guys were at camp, so if I didn't show up on time, they'd come looking for me. There's no way anything could face those combat bats down and lift tell about it. I started my walk back to camp as my time was up, and I had a good mile to walk and I could make it back in time. And in a quarter mile I made it back to the road and I wanted to be on that led back to the camp. But off to my east in the wood,

I could hear something walking parallel with me. It would walk when I did, and it would stop when I stopped. This went on for three hundred yards. Whatever it was seemed like it was about forty yards out, and at one point I stopped and squatted down to peer under the brush, and I couldn't see it, And when I was about three hundred feet from camp, I couldn't hear it anymore. In fact, I heard a chainsaw startup, which

would have been the guys getting ready to start cutting wood. Well, I told the guys what I had experienced the fox and the funny looking running bear on my walk back, and they listened to me intently, but we had work to do, and so the weekend went on. I had forgotten about my experience for years until the subject of bigfoot sisquatch came on the news. More and more. I hope you share my story. It happened just as I wrote it. I know what I saw and experienced it.

I grew up in showing the outdoors, hunting and fishing as much as I could, probably at the expense of my high school GPA at times. When I left high school, I went into the United States Army as an airborne light infantryman in two different units. I was in the battalion scout platoon, which in a light battalion is something you have to be selected for. We spent a whole lot of time in the woods and small teams, trying to remain hidden and silent in the course of our duties.

Every now and then, especially in Alaska, I would hear or see something that I couldn't place, but I was never thinking about sisquatch. It was not until after the Army that I became suddenly aware that something else was out there. My Army career ended at fifteen years of active duty. I was a senior in CEO, but I was stuck and recruiting and it was killing me. I long for the days of leading soldiers in the field and not trying to survive in the recruiting command from

day to day. We moved from Maine to our last duty station, where I earned the right to be a hunting, fishing, and recreation guide. I say earn the right because to be a registered main guide is a bit of an ordeal. You can't just hang out a sign and start a business. The licensing process is thorough. You have to demonstrate you

are a capable outdorsement and leader. The main woods can be a dangerous place, and the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife are careful about who should or who should not be taking people into the wilderness. It was a great opportunity, but after the economic turndown of two thousand and eight, I struggle to keep things going for a few years. I ended up landing a great job with the federal government. Though I certainly don't spend as much

time outside now as I would like to. I'm a lifelong outdoorsman who has probably spent a whole lot more time in the wilderness area than many of the keyboard skeptics who insist that we all must be crazy for believing in Sasquatch. I'm not just a believer. I'm a knower. My wake up call came in the main bear season of two thousand and nine. I was guiding an area just northeast of Bald Mountain Pond, a fairway southeast of the last paved road at Moxie. I had two hunters

on stands two miles apart. It was nearing sunset on a beautiful day. Because I needed to pick up the hunters within an hour or so, I decided to quietly roll my truck out onto a high point on a logging road between the two hunters. From there I would hear any shots that might come from either side, and from there I could plan my approach to pick them up. Both stands were crawling with bears, so I expected one

of them to harvest one. Typically, i'd wait until a half hour past sunset and that i'd start to walk into the stand and get them. In the dark. In those woods, a guide can't let their sports climb down on their own to walk out. That's just asking for trouble. I had the window down and the truck off, and I was enjoying air while reading an awesome Lewis Lamore book, and suddenly, from a dark shadow one hundred yards to

my left, a loud howl erupted. This started as a low growl, and it worked its way up in pitch to a volume that no human can match. Whatever made this noise had lungs much larger than a human, and it was directed at me, and it penetrated deeply into the truck and into my core. I quickly went through my mental rolodex of critters from the main woods, and nothing matched. I wasn't in full panic mode, but I

was a little concerned. I did have a loaded revolver on my belt, and I did unsnap the holster and roll up the window. There was something big in that dark shadow, but it was in the timber and I couldn't make out a shape. As dust grew, I slowly crawled the truck off to pick up my hunters. I went about my business for the rest of that trip, and I'd almost put it out of my mind when the season was over. Then it all dawned on me.

While the family was flipping through channels on television one night, just as the kids were clicking past the show on Sisquatch, the team of researchers was deploying what they called the Ohio. Howell well, I'll be damned if that wasn't exactly what I heard. I stopped the kids at the channel and I watched transfixed through the end of the show. Since then, I've been fascinated by anything about this supposedly mythical creature. Well that's the end of my first story, and I've

had one or two minor things happened since then. My daughter and I had some impressive wood knocks on either side of us while we were hunting deer out in the hard to reach part of the Black Hills of South Dakota. She thought that was cool, and since she was in her first deer season at about age eleven at the time. I have another story that's just as interesting. It isn't about me, though. At the time I was guiding.

We lived in Jefferson, Maine. It's a great little village at the top of Oh gosh, here's another here's another name I can't pronounce. Let me try to sound it out. Okay, Tomorrow Scotta Lake, Damaras, Scotta Tomorrow Scotta Lake. I'm just gonna go with that. If you're ever there, it's well worth the stop at the village store to grab a sandwich and ask what the fish you're hitting on. My neighbor was also a registered main guide. In fact, he was a master guide. There were three of us there

on the road. We're all pretty friendly with each other. And this fella also owned a Christmas tree farm which he liked to hunt on his own. His property was up the road and technically in the next town. One day he arrived in my driveway and he was a bit flustered. He was saying that he saw a werewolf on his property. He came down to see me because he knew I had young children. He was sitting in his tiny toolshit at the far back of his property,

right along David's Stream. This was a habitat edge where the acorn laden oaks abutted his tree farm. At the stream, there was a deer trail that meandered alongside the inside edge of the oaks, and from his little shed it was an easy fifty yard shot. He'd been doing this for years because he was getting older. Hunting ridgelines and swamps was not for him anymore. Besides, it was his land and it was a safe place to shoot. He hunted ethically and he didn't bait deer. The natural fodder

was enough to attract the deer. He said he saw a large creature walking on two legs, coming down the deer trail from right to left as he was facing the stream. At first, he thought the figure was a trespasser in dark clothes. As this thing got closer, he could tell that it wasn't a man. He said it was eight feet tall, and it walked on legs that looked like a powerful set of dog legs, which he

said looked really awkward. This lifelong hunter and master guide described this creature as having a snout and pointed ears, unlike a bear. He said, the upper torso was powerfully built, like a serious weightlifter. The dog man creature walked until it was directly in front of him at fifty yards, and then it dropped to all fours and it ran down the deer trail toward where my house was at

the time. Well, this frightened him because he knew that my kids spent a lot of time outside playing in the dirt or playing an army and just being kids. He told me his story with awe sincerity and no obvious deception. In his demeanor, he expressed fear and legitimate concern and sadly This kind man took his own life very shortly after the incident. I hope that his sighting had nothing to do with it. So there you have it. There are two stories from the great state of Maine.

It is a beautiful place with endless miles of shoreline, forests, lakes, and mountains to explore. Just keep your eyes open and you just might see something when you're taking it all in. So I'm a Bigfoot believer, and I've read countless stories and have seen almost every photo or video documented on the Internet. In two thousand and seven, i'd been studying encounter stories for a year, and I'd heard of several

in the Adirondack Mountains. It wasn't that far from where I live, so I convinced my best friend to take a hiking trip with me in search of Bigfoot. We were both in our twenties at the time and looking for adventure. Within a few weeks, we made our plans and purchased our supplies and loaded our backpacks, and we were on our way. We'd picked a remote hiking trail and headed out. An hour into our hike, the trail came to a fork and one path was well worn.

It was clearly the path most people chose. The other path was overgrown and grassy. Which way should we go, my friend asked, and I pointed to the overgrown path, and I said, let's go that way. For sure, I knew if I wanted to have an encounter of any kind, I would have to choose the path less traveled. We hiked a long way before we reached a point where we could take a rest. My friend immediately noticed that

there was no sound in the forest. No insects were chirping, no birds were singing, no other animals were even moving around. It was unsettling, and I thought maybe we were about to be attacked by a mountaine or something. I knew that silence in the forest usually meant a predator was in the area, so we decided to keep moving. Not

long after that, the forest grew dark. It wasn't nightfall yet, but the sun was shining on the other side of the mountain, and it cast a long shadow that made the whole area look like something out of a creepy movie. The dark forest ahead of us felt like it was swallowing us up, and I couldn't help being a little bit afraid. My stomach sank and I took a few big gulps of air, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Somehow I knew we shouldn't be there.

I told my friend that I didn't want to go in there. She said, oh, come on, we can't stop. Now, Let's go just a little bit further. I was uneasy with every step. Finally I convinced her it was time to turn back. I couldn't wait to get out of there. I had the sense that something was watching us, and I didn't know if it meant to harm us or what its intentions were. After a while, we got out of that area of the woods, and I felt a bit relieved. It was time to start heading straight back

to the car. The woods had fallen darker, and I did not want to be lost out there. After the sun went down, we were still two hours from the car. We picked up the pace as we walked back. I admit that I felt a bit disappointed that we didn't have an encounter with the creature, and that thought didn't last for long. Five minutes later, we heard a loud popping sound of a boulder hitting another rock as it landed on the ground, and then it rolled twenty yards

before coming to a stop. It had come from our left and behind us. There were no hills in that direction that it could have fallen from, and the landscape behind us was flat. I looked toward the sound to see what was going on, but we didn't see anything. But all of a sudden, I was excited, and it gripped me as I realized that something had to have thrown it. Maybe we had contact. Finally, this is what I had come for. I wasn't scared at this point.

Suddenly I was thrilled. I picked up a handful of small rocks and I threw them back into the woods in an effort to communicate with whatever had thrown the boulder. We slowly moved down the trail, looking into the woods, hoping to see this thing, and a handful of small rocks soared through the air and landed behind us. We stopped and smiled. This was it. I picked up more rocks and I gently threw them in the forest, and we waited, and then more rocks came flying back to us.

I couldn't believe this was happening. I was growing more excited by the minute. For the next forty five minutes. We walked the trail, tossing rocks into the woods, and back and forth it went. I never saw herd or smelled anything other than the rocks. But what animal was possibly capable of playfully throwing rocks back and forth? When we reached a point with a small pond on one side and thick woods on the other, I heard the sound of a tree creaking back and forth at a

rapid pace. I'm not a stranger to the woods. I grew up in the country, and I spent most of my days playing and walking out there, and I know the sound of the wind blowing through creaky trees. This is not what that was. It sounded like someone was shaking the tree. My friend was now afraid, but I became more curious, and I begged her to let me inspect the sound a little closer. Against her better judgment, I stepped off the mark path and into the woods.

That was my first mistake. My intuition was telling me not to go any further. The energy in the area was heavy and thick, and it took everything I had to move my legs forward. I looked down at my arms and the hair was standing straight up. I should have turned back right then, but I didn't. I picked up a large rock and I threw it as far into the woods as I could. I had a good throwing arm, and I sent it as deep into the darkness as it would go. The tree continued to shake

one last rock. I thought, I'll just throw one last rock. Well, that was my second mistake, and it almost cost me my life. My friend walked up behind me with a rock in each hand. We must have looked like a couple of idiots creeping through the woods with those rocks. And I cranked my arm back and I began to throw. Upon my release, a rock the sides of a softball came buzzing past my head at incredible speed, and it missed me by half an inch. I felt the wind

off of it as it hung by. Then it hit a tree behind us and it landed on the trail. I turned to my friend and shock, and I was hoping she was playing a joke on me. And all I could see was the fear in her eyes as she held up both of those rocks in her hands. She said, I brought one for you and me, but we didn't throw them. Let's get out of here. We both said at the same time. Somehow, unintentionally, we had made this creature angry, and if that rock had hit me,

it would have killed me. If it was a person who'd thrown it, they would have had to be close enough that I would have seen them. We started beating feet out of the woods while more rocks were thrown at us. But this time it wasn't playful and they weren't small rocks. They were being thrown directly at us, and for the next forty minutes, as we headed out of the trail as fast as we could, we had to take cover several times from the rocks being flung

at us. We were lucky. The rocks hit the leaves as they flew through the air and gave us a split second warning that they were coming. Again and again we had to duck to avoid being hit. These rocks kept coming at us until we were a half mile out of the trail. They were making sure that we were leaving. I should have never thrown that rock. It

was a stupid move on my part. You know the old saying, it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye, right, There is no doubt in my mind that I was interacting with a big foot that day, and this is one of my favorite stories to tell those friends who won't laugh at me, and now I'm sharing it with you all. Thank you,