Archive 205 Bigfoot Encounters

the margin. Since I was an infant, I've always been fearful of all things paranormal, and I became fearful of seeing a sisquatch while I was in Idaho. I'm thankful that I did not see one. I enjoyed the beauty of the area and the kindness of its people for the two weeks duration of my stay. It was a very pleasant memory. I then flew to Los Angeles for two weeks to meet a friend from Facebook whom I

had never met in the flesh. I couldn't stay in her house as there was no room, so I asked a lady who I had met in Bordeaux several months earlier, who lived not far away, if I could stay at her place. The lady lives in Santa Clarita, a small commune about forty five minutes from Los Angeles. I slept in the guest bedroom adjacent to the garage. Behind the house. Nearby is a golf course and, if I recall correctly, a small field. I didn't see much in the way

of forest. One night, I think it was the seventeenth or eighteenth of March. In my sleep, I suddenly found myself in the garage in the darkness. Just a few feet in front of me stood what I instantly knew to be a sy squatch. It was between seven and eight tall. I was petrified. He let out something verbal. It wasn't a full blown roar. It was kind of a mix between a roar and a warble. I don't know what it yelled to me, and I received no translation in my mind, but it seemed to be some

kind of a warning. Again, I was petrified, and I yelled back what I had just heard, my best sisquatch warble. Instantly, I found myself back in my room, sweating and trembling. I woke up and I turned the light on and there was nothing there. I don't recall if I opened the door immediately and saw there was nothing in the garage, or if I waited until the morning. Scratching my head. I put it down in my mind as playing tricks

on me due to my fears. Two days later, I was in the kitchen with my host talking and she said, a couple of nights ago, I heard this strange creature outside my house. My mind instantly clicked and I realized that I needed to verify this. Did it sound like this? I asked, and gave off my best squatch roar warble. She looked at me with a kind of a how did you know? In her eyes and said, yes, just

outside her bedroom window is a field. She had literally heard a sound coming from a flesh and blood creature, while I heard it only in spirit. The memory of what happened is in some ways vague and hazy, and in some ways remains etched in my mind. It is clear to me that I had a spiritual experience rather than a flesh and blood experience, so I've never relived the fear that I experienced that night. As with many

sisquatch encounters, it leaves more questions that answers. Did God allow this experience to reveal the truth of the existence of sisquatch? I don't know. Did dark forces send this thing to harm me and God protected me from it? I don't know that either. Who transported us both into the garage, God, the devil or the Sasquatch? I don't know, but it is clear to me from the experience that sisquatch are a paranormal phenomenon and that they are interdimensional beings.

Shortly after, I drove to Sequoia National Park and then onto Yosemite National Park. Arriving at the entrance to Yosemite, I casually asked the lady park ranger who I was buying my ticket from, do you have any Sasquatch here? She said, I do believe we have a couple here. As a matter of Factly, I was on my own and went about tree knocking, but I heard and saw nothing. I had not heard of David Plaudus then and had no idea so many people go missing in Yosemite. I

guess I must have received divine protection. Again. Back in France, I joined the Bigfoot UK Facebook page and I recounted my story. Most of the people claimed that I had simply had a dream. Others insisted that the sasquatch are only flesh and blood, so I left the group. I was surprised by some of the nasty ways in which people responded, Oh, brother, you have no idea. You really have no idea until you start a YouTube channel. But

I digress. A close study of scripture reveals that many other things can happen during the night season besides dreams. I did have one interesting conversation though, with a nice young lady from the UK who knows someone who regularly visits with sisquatch in a UK forest. The lady claimed there are seven species of sisquatch. I do not doubt that sisquatch are a form of the nephilum according to Genesis six, and are connected to other paranormal nephilin phenomenon.

It would seem that depending on the species sasquatch or everything from human friendly to man eating, Some seem more earthbound, while others are mostly other dimensional, occasionally visiting Earth. It seems that sisquatch, like humans, can be cursed and find themselves run over by trucks or shot. These are just my thoughts and observations aside from my own brief experience. Thanks for reading my story, Dixie, I certainly appreciate it.

Yours sincerely, Daniel Verdeaux, France. Daniel, you hit the nail on the head, brother, You got in a Facebook group. That's your first big mistake. You can't tell people the truth. And you would think you would think you could. You would think, Okay, well, I'm going to join a bigfoot group online and I'll be able to discuss my encounter and get some good, positive, constructive feedback. But no, brother, I'm telling you that's not possible. It's not possible because

everybody's an expert on sosquatch. But I really appreciated this story, and I've even said on this channel that I can't I can't make it jib in my mind that these things are paranormal because the only basis for anything in my life is it's based on what I can see, feel, smell, hear, all the normal senses that a person uses. Something that is paranormal, that's big and Harry in the Woods just does not jib in my head. But that does not

mean it's not real. I just can't see it, and so don't everybody start commenting that I'm ruling that out. I'm not. It just doesn't make sense. It makes more sense to me that they would be flesh and blood. But I would never get on a Facebook group or in the comment section or whatever and belittle someone for believing or saying. I mean, they're telling you they had this experience. It's no different than someone saying they saw a bigfoot run across the road in front of their car.

This guy saw it in a supernatural way. The other person may have seen it in a supernatural way, and it just appeared to be real. Anyway, it just gave me a chance to kind of rib on the buttholes out there who just hammer everybody. Look, the biggest enemy the bigfoot community has is not the federal government. It's the Bigfoot community itself. That's the worst enemy of this whole topic. I'm just glad I'm off here just in my little corner telling stories. That's all I do. I

don't get into that research stuff. I don't you know. I told you about the Beast Facebook page where they've got videos from lb Elvis past weekend. They've got perfect tracks in the mud from water. That's that's been drawn down on the Tennessee River at Lake Barkley, and they've got these perfect tracks and you can see. I'm on their Facebook page. I talked about the video that Bob Gimmelin showed into just a just a video he uploaded just less than a week ago, and all of his

commentary on that. And I know there are people that are gonna just squash all that stuff. They're gonna say the footprints are a hoax, and they're gonna say that that so and so is a hoax. But they're gonna consider themselves in the Bigfoot community. Okay, I'm ranting. I'm sorry. I shouldn't rant, but it just drives me nuts. It drives me nuts. And again that's why I'm just happy off here in my little corner telling stories. Here, we

all are off at our little corner. They're weird and wonderful, just enjoying these stories. And that's where I'm gonna stay. That's where I'm gonna stay. All right, enough of that, here's an email from Robert I got some time back. It's a little different. It's not even a Bigfoot story, but it's a scary story and it's about a cryptid and it's got a twist to it that I think will make you scratch your head. So let's get into

it here. Robert writes. I was raised on a twelve hundred and fifty acre farm on an island off the coast of South Carolina. The farm had six hundred acres of cleared land which we farmed, and the rest was forested with a large swamp that ran through it. When I wasn't working on the farm, which to a young boy, seemed like all the time, I would spend as much time as possible hunting in the swamp. I hunted everything

in season. My dad taught me at a young age how to hunt safely, and to take care of my guns and how to shoot. One time, he gave me three shotgun shells and he told me that he wanted some squirrels to eat. I remember thinking three squirrels wasn't a lot. As I headed out the door, and he said, I want five nice ones. I looked at my mother and she whispered back, catch them together in the trees. My dad was one who didn't believe in wasting anything.

Why waste five shots when three would work. These type of challenges made me an excellent shot. I loved shooting and became an excellent shot. As a matter of fact, my dad would often get bets going with people that were new to our hunt club to challenge me. Whether it was with a shotgun, a rifle, or a pistol, I always won. It made me proud the way my dad would brag about my shooting skills. In the fall

of nineteen sixty six, I was sixteen years old. My mother, my older brother, and my older sister, and I were playing a board game in the kitchen. I believe it was Monopoly. My dad was at my uncle's house helping him work on a tractor. It was already dark outside, but the moon was bright enough that you could still see pretty well. On dark nights, I like to lie back on the hood of the old pickup truck and

look up at the stars. The night sky was so beautiful, so full of stars, that the sky almost looked white stars that today are drowned out by light pollution. Since there was a full moon that night, I stayed inside and I played the game with the rest of the family. I wasn't very good at board games, and I lost most of the time. I guess that's why my mother didn't mind me looking at the stars on game nights.

That night, our dogs started barking outside. We had a shepherd at the time, and he stayed inside almost all the time, and he was growling and looking at the door, and his hackles were up. I remember saying, it's probably that possum trying to get at the chickens. Again. My mother told me to take the gun out and get rid of this thing. So I grabbed up my twenty two rifle, my spotlight, and I headed out the door.

Rex was at the door when I got there, and I thought that he would find the possum real quick, so I'll let him come out with me. Rex could dispense of it fast and I could sneak a cigarette. Rex ran out the door onto the porch, but he stopped at the top step. I thought he was waiting on me, so I stepped past him. Come on, boy, I said, as I stepped off the porch. Rex just

stood there, staring into the field. Back then, we didn't have any problems with codies on the island, but there were plenty of bobcats, fox raccoons and other small predators that would occasionally get into the chickens. At times, we would hear what sounded like a woman screaming in the woods down by the swamp, but my dad said that

it was probably just a bobcat. There was the occasional sighting of a black panther by some of the island folk, and that included myself and my dad, but the game wardens said that there weren't ever any panthers on that island. Yeah right. I shined the light out across the field and I didn't see anything. Our front porch based out across a fifteen acre field where we often saw deer in the evenings and early mornings. My mother forbid us to hunt those deer while they were in the yard.

The driveway stopped at the side of the house and was about one hundred and fifty yards long before it entered the woods, and another one hundred yards or so before it came out at the highway. Rex had turned around and he was at the door, whining, wanning back in, and he would not leave the porch no matter how much I called him. This caused a chill to run down my back. I shined the light around again and still saw nothing. Rex could see or sense something that

I couldn't I did know that. I asked my brother to come out with me. I went back in for my pistol and a different rifle. As I walked back through the kitchen, my brother said, damn, there must be a big possum to need that big rifle. I told him what had happened, and my brother said, I'll come with you. My brother was an excellent shot as well. I felt relieved. As we walked out the door, my mother said, you boys, be careful. My brother tried to get Rex to follow me, but he was cowering under

the kitchen table and he would not move. My brother had his thirty six and a three point fifty seven magnum and a spotlight. When we went out, the chickens were quiet and nothing was bothering them, so we figured the problem wasn't there. The outside dogs were still barking like crazy now, so we walked around the house towards the driveway. My mother and sister walked out onto the porch to see what was going on, and it was then that my brother said, oh, hell, do you see that?

Out across the yard by the driveway, close to the woods, were three large black panthers. Two of them were very large and the other a bit smaller than the rest. My sister and my mother walked around the side of the porch by this time, and we're all so seeing the same thing. My sister said to me, hand me your light and I'll keep it on them so you can get a shot. I handed her my light. She rested it on the porch rail to keep it steady.

My mother did the same for my brother. My brother took the one on the left, and I chose the big one in the middle. My brother said on three, and my sister slowly counted down one, two, three, and both rifles fired at the same time. My mother said she could see both of the large cats get hit. The one my brother shot collapsed on the ground and the one I shot flipped over backwards and fell to

the ground too. Our eyes were adjusting from the flash of the rifle, and everything was real quiet, and like someone had turned a switch. Both spotlights went out at the same time, along with every light in the house. We lost all power to our house. We all ran back inside the house. Once inside, my mother shut and locked the doors. My sister lit an oil lantern that we had for power outages. It was totally silent outside.

The outside dogs were quiet now, and after about five minutes the lights all came back on, and that included the two spotlights that were laying on the coffee table. Now we just stood there and looked at each other. My mother walked out the living room towards the bedroom, and she said for everyone to go to the kitchen table and to turn those two lights off, pointing at the spotlights. A few minutes later, she walked into the kitchen with an oil lantern still lit, placing it in

the middle of the table. She sat down and she started reading from the Bible in Psalms. No one said a word. We just sat there and we listened to her read. We stayed up all night listening to her read. Once it was it was light enough to see well enough outside, my mother blew out the lantern. My brother and I grabbed a couple of shotguns and we filled our pockets with buckshot and we walked outside. This time, Rex followed us out. He didn't seem afraid like he was,

which helped soothe us a little bit. We rounded the corner of the porch and started up the driveway. Towards the area we had seen the large cats. My mother and sister on the porch were watching, and my sister holding my mother's bible in her hands. After fifty yards of walking or so, my brother and I stopped and looked at each other. Where were the cats? We both hit our targets last night. There was no way that we missed, not both of us. But there was nothing

on the ground. My brother said maybe the small one dragged him into the woods. So with shotguns at the ready, we walked to the spot where the cats had been. The ground was torn up with scratches all over the ground, but there was no blood. Thirty yards away was the open field that I had cut with a disk the day before. In that field, we saw three sets of large cat prints walking across towards the back end of

the field. The prints at first seemed to be dragging something, and then they all cleared up and everything became normal. The scariest part to us was the tracks went maybe forty or fifty feet or so into the field and just stopped. There was no backtracking, no forward, no sideways, no nothing. They just ended like the cats had vanished, fresh plowed ground and no tracks was all we could see. My dad came home that morning around ten am. He and my uncle had worked all night fixing that tractor.

We told him what had happened, and he asked which way the cats had headed. I told him back towards the big oaks in the corner, but the tracks stop way short of getting there. He said that when his his dad, my granddad, had bought this farm when he was a young man, he was told there was an old graveyard in that area with about three hundred slaves

buried there under those oaks. He said that he was told they had all died from malaria, and over the years, strange things had happened in that area, and that those cats had been seen before by that family. Over the years, several years went by before anyone ever saw those cats again, just like before they showed up the first time, you could hear what sounded like a woman screaming down in the swamp. We saw that far many years ago, and

I miss it dearly for many reasons. All of the family that were there that night have all passed away now, so there's no one left to be worried about what people would say about this story. There's only me left, and I'm now sixty eight years old. I'm married, and I even have great grandkids. I love to listen to the stories that you tell, and I enjoy them very much.

They bring back memories of days gone by. There are people that listen to these stories that may say this is a bunch of bull, but those of us who have lived those stories, we know better. Keep up the good work, brother, and maybe next time I get the chance, I'll tell you some of the other strange things from that old farm. God bless sign. Robert, Oh, Robert. I've loved some more of those stories. But you know this is namely a bigfoot channel now, but this was so

good I had to share that with y'all. And I don't know what the deal is with these big cats. I've heard them. I remember years ago being in we had duck hunted all day long. We were tired and it was dark and my boys and I and some other guys we hunted with. We had stopped in this little store in Cash, Arkansas, and we were just getting some blooney sandwiches and stuff and about head home. And there was an old man in there and he was going on and on about this old this big old

black cat that he had seen cross a ditch. Now northeast Arkansas is not real wooded. Most of the woods have been cut down and it's like a flat as a pancake delta. There's little patches of woods here and there. But he swore he saw a big black panther cross a ditch and go into a little patch of trees. There was another guy, I think it was his son in there, and he was that wasn't no damn panther. That was my black lab. He had gotten out and he was running, running those ditches and he went up

in those woods. But this old man just stuck with his story and he said, I saw that black cat. I know what it was. He was like looking at us, going, y'all believe me, don't you. We were like, oh yeah, sure, sure we do. We just wanted our blowny sandwiches and to get home. But I don't know what the deal is with these black cats. I hear these stories all the time, you know. And I said in a previous video that I know guys who are getting catching images

of them on trail camps. They are not black. They look like mountain lions in the out West, but apparently they're here. I don't know about the black Ones. But anyway, I'm just babbling on and let's go ahead and end this up. Robert, this is a great story. It took about a year for me to get to this. I hope you, hope you listen in. I'll send you an email. Make sure you know it's in this it's in this video or Robert, is a great story. I really appreciate you.

Here's an email from Bobby and here's what he says. I live in North Carolina in Anson County. I didn't grow up here. I grew up in an adjacent county. I've lived here for thirty five years, on my land that my grandfather left me from his estate. It has a pond and many acres of woods on it. My track is in the middle of seven tracks that are owned by other family members, and they're primarily wooded areas. Now fifty six years old, so nothing has ever surprised me,

well until now. I've always let my chickens range out during the day to forage. In the evening before sunset, they would always return to their pen and I would shut them up at night. So the coyotes wouldn't get them well, they stopped going back into their pin in September of twenty and nineteen. I could catch them and put them up, but they would fly back out, so they could sit on the ground right beside the dog kennel with two of my dogs, about fifty feet from

their house. This was odd to me because I thought they would be safer from the coyotes in their pin. But I got tired of catching them for nothing, so I just left them out. I had also noticed that the coyotes had ceased calling out at night, or even maybe they had left the area. They were a permanent fixture here for years, and with the coyotes gone, I

figured the chickens would be safe saf outside overnight. After all, I did keep a dog beside the chicken pen so he could guard the chickens and keep the wildlife away. This pen was one hundred feet from our house and surrounded by trees. My dog there was constantly running back and forth at night, barking non stop. We thought it was deer since there are so many around here, so we weren't concerned about us barking. About the same time that the chickens started their routine my wife and I

started smelling decomposition and wet dog. We have a lot of deer and we live close to the road, so we attributed the decomposition smell to deer that had been hit by vehicles and died in the woods near our house. But we never ever saw a deer carcass. The smell would come and go over time. This continued until July of twenty twenty, when I had the experience of hearing thumping on a tree in the woods behind our greenhouse

while I was cutting wood one day. It was a pattern of one two three four, one two one two three in that sequence. Then there was a pause and the pattern would start again. I felt like I was being watched too. I would listen to the knox for a while, and then I decided to answer it myself on the red tip beside the dog kennel. After doing three sets of these thumps, the sounds from the woods stopped.

I went back to cutting wood. On Sunday, September the twenty seventh, twenty twenty, I went out to feed the dogs and cats, and I found my dog in the hog pen dead. I found him exactly where he had slept in the pin with his neck broken and his head twisted around looking backwards. His eyes were open with his right front leg dislocated pointing back over his show. I went back inside our house and I told my

wife what I had found. My wife is a forensic anthropologist with crime scene investigation training, so she was intrigued. She found the entry point over the barbed wire that was ripped down, and impressions inside the pen on solid ground. She even found a footprint just outside the pen that we took several cell phone pictures of. After our investigation, we buried my dog and we had a somber day of disbelief. The next morning, I went out to our greenhouse to put a water jug in. Again, I had

the feeling that I was being watched. When I exited the greenhouse, my chickens came running, hoping that I would give them some cracked corn like I usually did. About halfway to the corn bend, I heard a grunt behind the greenhouse, and then I smelled that terrible odor, and I froze in my tracks. The chickens also froze and stretched their necks high, looking in the direction of that sound.

They didn't move until I did. I went ahead and fed them the corn, and I walked back to the house and sat down in the swing on our patio. This was unnerving because I know what deer and wild hogs sound like when they grunt, and this was neither. That afternoon, I decided to put some lights in the backyard near the hog pen, because we had no security lights out there. While installing the lights, I sensed again that I was being watched and that odor was back.

I install the lights, and the other dogs have stopped barking towards the woods at night, and everything seems to have calmed down. Back in the nineteen seventies, I used to hear horrible screams back in the woods where I hunted. It always happened when someone was with me. I don't know this again magnificance of that, but at least there were witnesses. It happened frequently enough that we stopped hunting

that area. Now we hunt closer to the road, and from the seventies until now, there's been nothing out of the ordinary going on here. And this recent activity with my chickens and my dog being killed has changed me in a way that I don't understand. I've never been afraid of being out in the woods, but I'm a bit jumpy now. I never work outside without a gun. I haven't told anyone the latest things that have happened. I'm waiting to see if anyone else has had a

similar experience. Thanks for your channel and hopefully understanding that I'm not crazy, Bobby, You're not crazy. You're not crazy at all. I hear this stuff all the time. I've never experienced it, but apparently people have these type of experiences all the time, and I think I've only got one or two stories up with where Bigfoot was suspected in killing a dog. That's the part about this story that breaks my heart because I love dogs, and I hate the fact that your dog was killed in such

a violent way. Maybe he never felt it sounds like it was pretty quick. So but I'm sorry about the loss of your dog, and it sounds like you got bigfoot activity there. I don't know if there's anybody in your area you can call or know that might be able to help you, And I don't know if they could even help you if they knew about it. But this experience is not uncommon. I mean, people that have bigfoot on their property I mean, I think these kind

of things happen a lot. I really appreciate you sharing this with us, Bobby. You did a good job right in it, and it's very clear we can all see what's going on. Thanks Buddy,