Archive 230 UFO and Bigfoot

I still have trouble believing it myself. It was after I had graduated high school. I had a boyfriend who lived on a well traveled highway between our small town in Perry County and the bigger town we all commuted to in Lewis County for shopping and eating. He used to always claim in high school that he had seen aliens in Ufo on a daily basis. Well, I thought

he was crazy and had been smoking too much. Weaed on a summer evening in nineteen ninety four, I made a visit to his house to watch his new satellite dish that his parents had just installed. Well, this was back when the satellites were as big as a swimming pool. I was sitting on the couch enjoying the thousands of channels from all over the world when my boyfriend came in and calmly said, Kim, come here, I want to

show you something. We walked out onto the porch into the front yard and I looked at him and I said, what is it. He pointed up to the top of one of the trees in his backyard and he said, just look at that. Five hundred feet away. I saw a large, dark, circular disk right at the top of the trees. There were yellowish looking lights that blinked in a sequence, starting from the left of the object to the right, and then around again. I heard any noise,

no motor, no hum. It was absolutely silent. It was the size of a basketball court, and it sat in a perfectly still position, with just the movement of the sequencing lights that seemed to chase each other from left to right. Well, I was stunned into silence. I knew, deep down, whatever was controlling that object was observing us. I never thought I would react that way if I ever got lucky enough to see one of these things.

I always pictured myself before it happened that if I had ever seen one, I would be ecstatic and excited, but I wasn't. I looked at him one more time, not believing my eyes, and I asked him, like a dummy, what is that? Even though I already knew what it was, thinking there might be a logical explanation. All he said was to UFO. I knew whatever it was, it was not to be there. And then, for some odd reason, I felt the strong urge to calmly go back in

the house, sit down, and continue to watch TV. And that's exactly what I did, I guess. Fifteen minutes went by and my boyfriend came back in and he went to his room and he shut the door. Well, I got up from the couch and I walked outside to leave. I looked for the object while I walked back to my car, and it was gone. After that, we never spoke about it again, and to this day, I couldnot figure out why why would we not mention it to

each other. I know what I saw was real, I was awake, and I was not on drugs or alcohol. But for some reason, I've always questioned myself as to why I reacted the way I did and why he reacted the way he did. It was just a rare experience, and I don't know if there was a higher power involved pushing me to react the way I did. Well. We eventually broke up and he moved to Utah. I heard recently of another sighting on that road about five years ago, while a girl I know was driving on

that highway. I know this was a short story, but I thought I would share it. I thought maybe someone out there listening may appreciate it. It may have been through something similar. I enjoy listening to your podcast every morning while I get up and get ready for work. Keep doing what you do. You're doing a great job. And she says, thank you, Kim, Thank you Kim for the story. You did a great job writing this. That's the biggest compliment, not that I'm doing a good job,

but you guys do a great job writing these. This was an interesting story. I love these UFO stories. Okay, fair warning. This story has a lot of places, has a lot of places that have spanned names and French names that I may get wrong, so get ready for a laugh. But I just can't pronounce them because I've never heard some of them before Nielma edited this. She goes, there wasn't really much to do to it because the person is a talented writer, and so this should be

a good story. And I'm reading this cold, so just hang on to your weaves, all right. Here we go. It's a bigfoot story. Growing up in the nineteen seventies in the small town of Monroe, Louisiana, we heard all kinds of stories about the history of the town and that region of northeast Louisiana. For a sleepy little town nestled in the curves of the Wachita River, the Bayous, and the swamps, you would never guess that it had been a place of habitation for several cultures going back

nearly six thousand years now. I spent a lot of time sitting around and listening to my grandfather and one or two uncles as they told stories of things that they encountered on hunting trips, or why working around the family farm, or the stories of what other relatives had experienced in the bayou and swamp country around Monroe. As a kid, I enjoyed all the stories, even if I didn't quite believe them or thought there might have been

a bit of leg pulling going on. This syria had been settled and lived in for thousands of years by Native Americans, with the oldest mound complex found in the Western Hemisphere and it dates back fifty four hundred years and it's found in the northwestern part of Monroe at the Watson Breaks site. The Poverty Point World Heritage Site, which is the largest known earthworks in North America, is

only a fifty minute drive to the east. Another facet of the local history was the Spanish colonial past pastad do watchitall? That was stor I think it was. That means post watchitall. I think that was started in seventeen and renamed after the Spanish governor Estevan miro As Fort Mirou in seventeen ninety one when the fort was constructed. As the settlement expanded with French and Americans moving into the area, the settlement would be renamed Monroe in eighteen

twenty after the arrival of the steamboat James Monroe. The town was also part of the Vicksburg Campaign as a supply depot and hospital during the Civil War. Some of the stories told to me growing up were from the Spanish and later American settlers and also from the earlier Native American people. There were stories of giant, hairy manlike creatures who lived in the deepest part of the swamps

and who did not tolerate trespassers. There were beings who could change their shapes to look like animals, and other stories were about people who would disappear out in the swamps with never a tree to be found. Of course, there were plenty of ghost stories around the Old Garden district, and Monroe had more than its share of haunt houses. I experienced a few of these things in some of those two hundred year old homes that I can't explain.

But those are stories for another time. By the way, if you ever feel like writing those stories, brother, please send them in because I'll get them. I'll get them on the podcast. Back to the story. In nineteen seventy five, I had my own close encounter with a bigfoot out along the Watchtaw River among those ancient Spanish moss draped

trees and waterways. My mom and I had gone on one of the periodic camping trips our Baptist Church put together for our congregation in the late summer of that year. This particular camping trip was to Moon Lake, north of Monroe. This area is adjacent to the Black Bayou National Wildlife Refuse that has a long history of the range things

happening and sightings of strange creatures. If you had a canoe or a flat bottom aluminum boat, you could go out on the switchbacks of the watch Taw River and eventually you would cross over the Black Bayou itself or by you Dissard, I think I pronounced that right, Disiard. The further up the side by us you went, the thicker the curtains of moss hanging from the trees would grow until you could see only a few yards in

any direction. Now, back in the nineteen seventies, the area around Moon Lake was still fairly wild and undeveloped, and it was by you territory, with only a few scattered houses and trailers off the old State Road five point fifty three as the crow flies. It was only about five miles from my dad's house, but that short fifteen minute drive would take you from the civilized comforts of town living to another world of moss, drape, tree and dabble,

sunlight and foggy swamps inhabited by alligators. And other creatures. Our church used a camp at the lake for family weekend getaways and for some retreats. The camp was on the east side of the lake, between the road and the main body of the lake, with the river making the northern boundary. It was an old camp, but it was well maintained, and the main camp was clear and level,

but surrounded by old trees and bushes. On this weekend, families had started arriving late Friday afternoon, with the rest coming in early Saturday morning to set up their tents

and personal camp sites within the larger camping area. As each family arrived, more of the kids I knew would be running around and playing tiger chase or hide and seek, And during one particular wild run through the camp, I missed seeing a tent rope that caught me right across my face, and I proudly wore that diagonal rope burn across my face for several days and enjoyed my badge

of honor. Saturday progressed and we moved to exploring the area outside of the campgrounds, which included walking aways up the shallow river banks, skipping rocks across the slow moving current, and looking for arrowheads. We didn't find anything, but we had a grand time poking around in the soft soil, and we made a full day of it. At dusk, everyone was called in for dinner and visiting, and my friends and I group together for a dinner of hot

dogs and chips and beans and potato salad. And while we were eating, we noticed the dogs that some of the families had brought with them were tracking around the campground and occasionally whining. And since we were among the trees and therefore more to the north and west, the setting sun made a long and broken shadow between the trunks and the hanging moss, it made it difficult to

see what the dogs were reacting too. It did not make much of an impression on me at the time, and as soon as we finished eating, we ran back into the woods for an evening edition of hide and seek. After about an hour, we went back and picked up some flashlights so that we could continue our game until our parents would eventually call us in for the night.

And we gathered back together and we stood talking at the edge of the clearing, and a small stick was thrown into our group from the area just outside the lantern light. Well, we thought it was one of the other kids, so we started trying to find them, but we never saw anyone, but every couple of minutes another

stick would be thrown from the trees. Eventually, we started concentrating our flashlights in one beam and swinging them back and forth, and we tried throwing sticks and small rocks back to the trees to see if we could flush out whoever it was, but we didn't have any success. After another ten minutes of this, we still didn't see anything, and then another stick came flying out of the trees.

This time it came from higher up. We swung the flashlight beams up about ten feet and at first we didn't see anything but a curt of Spanish moss hanging from a branch close to the tree trunk, and then a face pushed out of the moss. Our first thought was one of the kids had climbed up the trunk, but on closer inspection, though, we realized that the face

was not entirely human. After a stunned a few seconds, a body that was fully ten to eleven feet tall, covered in shaggy brown hair, stepped out from the tree trunk and moss less than twenty feet away from us. We started yelling and running back to the camp, while whatever this was disappeared at a loping run back to the north. The adults who came r at our yelling listened to our hurried description and then took off in pursuit.

They too, caught a few glimpses as the bigfoot ran through the undergrowth and then dove into the river to make its escape. When the adults came back to camp, every family packed up and left that night without another word being said about the events of that night, And for several years after that event, you would hear stories

of strange happenings around the Moonlake area. Whoo, that's a There was a lot of lead up to the actual apex of that story, but it was all important because you kind of get a feel for the area and why they were there and what was going on in the mood of the kids playing, and then the this face pushes through Spanish moss. If you could see me, I've got my shoulders all scrunched up behind my head because it's given me the creeps. Man, what a great story.

I love that story. I appreciate the writer and regarding the houses and whatever happened in the haunted houses that you claim was a time for another story. I would appreciate getting those from you. I'll be glad to put them on the intern. I'll be glad to put them on the podcast, because, dude, you know how to tell a story. Anyway, Thank you for sending it. I really do appreciate it. When I was growing up in South Carolina in the nineteen fifties, we never heard stories about

encounters with Bigfoot or families of Bigfoot. When I had my first encounter, I didn't know what they were or what to call them. I think my dad must have known something about them, but he never talked about it. We lived on a farm deep in the country, somewhere between Honia Path and Greenwood. We kept all kinds of livestock, chickens, hogs,

and a few cows and a couple of goats. Along with them, we had dogs and cats, and there was no grass around the house because the hogs and the chickens and the other animals roamed freely about eating everything in sight, not to mention the damage that we three girls could do. Now, Mom and Dad didn't have any sons, but my sisters and I were just as tough and wild as any boys could be. Dad worked our little farm while holding down a job at the fabric mill,

and were shoals. They wove and printed the fabric and then shipped it off to various other places to be made into clothes and such. And at that time they were printing camouflage material, and that meant the deer hunters around there always had cheap, misprinted cameo cloth to take home to their wives so they could make them into hunting clothes. I remember one hot Saturday afternoon in the summer. Dad was busy with the cows and Mom asked me to run to the store for her to pick a

few items up. It was a little corner store set on an intersection in the middle of nowhere. Normally, my older sister would go with me, but she wasn't feeling well that day, and my younger sister was still too little. The store was only a half mile away and there were almost never any cars on the road, but I was old enough to know betther than to talk to strangers. Even if there had been a car, it was likely

to be someone we knew. Now. That was back when cochs were and nickel and snicker bars were three cents. I took my time getting to the store. I remember a turtle that needed poking with a stick, A few insects were begging for inspections, and I couldn't resist the wildflowers that were in full bloom. But I eventually got there and handed my list over to the storekeeper. It wasn't a long list, but there was enough on it to tell me that Mama was getting ready to bake

us a cake. It was hot that day. I knew I would practically have to run back to keep the butter from melting. Well. I liked running before a ten year old, I was pretty fast, well on that day, I was determined to break my old record. Lucky for me, I thought I had wasted enough time getting there that the sun was beginning to sink behind the trees to the west. The shadows were getting longer, but that meant the trip home wouldn't be quite so hot as the

walk there. I had just about reached the long dirt drive that led to our farmhouse when I noticed an awful dead smell that wasn't there earlier. It seemed to be coming in wiffs on the breeze from somewhere inside the tree line. Now, those woods are thick with pines, and so thick that it was almost like night once you got past the outer boundary. We never ventured in there. Ever. Dad used to tell us that there might be bears in there. Well, we never saw one, but if Dad

said they were there, we believed it. We didn't need to play in those old woods anyway. There was more than enough space to play in the sunlight or under the big shape trees on the farm. As I turned to head up the drive, that smell got stronger, and I shifted my groceries from one arm to the other. The rattle of that paper bag muffled another noise that I was sure didn't come from me. It was a

crackling sound like sticks breaking somewhere beyond the trees. And then I caught a glimpse of something moving to my right, just inside the tree line. I assured myself that I was hearing squirrels or birds and letting my imagination make giants out of shadows. I was making good time, but I couldn't seem to outrun the sun. I was sure it was dropping faster than usual that afternoon, and even though the fear was starting to creep in. I had to slow down. It was still pretty hot and humid,

and I was getting tired. The house came into view, and so did something else. I didn't quite understand what I was looking at. I just knew that something tall and dark was st at the edge of the trees ahead of me. There was an embankment there that went up the right side of the drive, and the tall trees came to a point at the top of it. That was where the taller, slender, black, hairy figure stepped out. I could see its face clearly. It was almost human,

but not quite. I had seen pictures of monkeys, but this thing didn't have a snout or a nose that protruded like one. Its ears were small, and it had a pronounced brow line, with deep set eyes that looked black or very dark brown. The hair on its body was kind of long, but more so on its arms and around its head. It didn't really have a neck, but its arms were long and almost to its knees. Or maybe they just looked that way because it was

stooped a little. I thought it was smiling at me, but it was such a creepy looking grin and it made its wide mouth almost sinister. I don't think it was trying to scare me, but it sure was doing a good job of it. In an effort to figure out what I was looking at, I took a few steps closer to it, and in turn, it took another step down the embankment, and then I took another step, and it took another until it was all the way to the bottom. That's when I stopped, and I started screaming.

My kids have a high pitched scream that runs right through you out there in the country. It really traveled. It was enough to bring Dad running with his double barrel shotgun. I never thought of my dad as being small until I compared him to the monster. It must have been twice my dad's height. The creature went back up the embankment, and it looked like it dissipated into the dark forest. And to this day, I'm not sure

if my dad ever saw it. He had a confused look on his face, and I never heard him shoot. Either he didn't see it or he was afraid of shooting me by accident. He stood there and waited as I ran to him, and then we both went inside. I don't know what I was looking at that day, but I do now. I'll never know what he wanted. Maybe he smelled what was in the bag and he was hungry. I doubt anyone really knows what they are or how they managed to hide so well for their size.

But what I do know now is that I do believe in Bigfoot.