Archive 241 Bigfoot

My friend Jim and I decided to hunt the swamp island, as we did many times before. It was just another day. We had to be back at camp before one o'clock for dinner, so we left the island about twelve o'clock in the afternoon. Now bear in mind it was gun season. You're required to wear five hundred inches of orange in a wildlife management area in Florida. Any person that would attempt to hunt during rifle season without orange would be absolutely crazy and a little bit stupid. Jim and I

hunted this island, which is in itself extremely spooky. In fact, his wife would not even go out there because she thought there were Indian spirits of some sort, which I didn't argue with. The walk to the island was in about two and a half foot of water for about one hundred and fifty yards in a thick cypress swamp. I kept this trail cut minimally for accessibility, and I knew it very well. I had hunted this island dozens

of times alone. It's funny because I'm a grown man, and still the Boogeyman gives me the willies, if you know what I'm saying. We all know there are things out in there that we cannot explain. When I'm in the woods, I'm always on a alert for anything. We did not see any deer or pigs during the morning that I can remember. We left this island to go back to the vehicle. Upon arrival, I opened my back window to my Bronco and it made the usual screeching sound which I could not seem to get rid of.

We loaded our firearms into the back of the truck. I did this first, and then Jim followed up doing the same. As Jim loaded his guns in the truck, I walked out to the road. I looked down the road for game, only to see this huge, tall, lanky figure walking diagonally to the other side of the road into the thick palmadows. I said to my friend Jim, look at this crazy dude in the gilly suit without

his orange vest on. By description, the hare looked the same color as buck hair, brown but not too long. Body was a lanky looking in very tall, very long arms and wide. It seemed to be a male, and did not notice us in the road looking at him because he was walking away at an angle. Jim made a remark and came to the road and looked at this thing. I remember saying, what a fool. Just then another smaller one came out holding what seemed to be either a baby or a pregnant belly. Now when I

saw this, obviously to me it was a female. She had jet black hair from head to toe. She had large breasts and a big belly. My friend Jim said, dang, that's a gal in his twangy country boy voice. My next words were those or swamp apes? Man. I want to tell you, the hair on the back of our necks was up as high as it could go. Both of us got freaked out as this female saw us looking at her and hobbled off into the thick falalmatos very quickly. She ran very funny because of what she

was carrying, and I distinctly remember it. Jim and I immediately got into my Bronco and drove down to the spot, which was about one hundred and fifty yards away. We got out and started to walk into the pal meadows, and Jim said to me that he felt like he was being watched, and he said he was not going in. I agreed with this completely because I had no interest in shooting one of these things or getting my butt whip.

I just wanted to see one close up. Just then, another hunter drove up and got out of his vehicle and asked us what was walking across the road. He had been using his scope looking down the road and back of us when the creatures were walking across. I didn't know this at the time because it was way down the road. He said he couldn't tell what they were, but they didn't look normal as far as their coloration

and the way they were walking. Anyhow, we told the guy what we saw and what we thought they were. He kind of snickered and said I'm really not surprised, and then he left. Meanwhile, Jim and I had to go back to the camp and tell our families about this experience. Everybody thought we were crazy, but after a few hours my wife knew that I was obviously upset and freaked out. She believed me and she got kind

of freaked out as well. So then I went to the Czech station and I reported it to the game warden. Of course, they laughed and asked me if I was consuming alcohol or had been smoking something. I reported my sighting to the Florida Bigfoot Research Organization and filed my sighting online. The following weekend, they did go out with me to the spot, but we couldn't find any evidence because of the drought we were experiencing. A few snap

branches in odd trails were all we could find. Ever since that time, things changed for me as a hunter. I now carry a firearm pretty much all the time while hunting. Even with archery, my days in the swamp are limited because I do not want to run into a family of bigfoots in the swamp. It was enough for me that I had seen them once, so I kind of gave them that place. So My encounter is not violent, and it really wasn't terrifying, but it did

freak me out. My friend Jim has since passed, and his wife finally believed what he saw after a few months. I found your stories on YouTube to be very entertaining and interesting, though mine does not compare to most that I've heard. I guess that's a matter of perspective. I reckon. I still enjoy hunting, but mostly traditional archery in rural areas. I hope you find this story somewhat entertaining, and I have enjoyed telling it. This was my special time and

my place in life. Maybe one day I will go out there again, just to see the old swamp island. Most of my fondest memories as a growing up in central Mississippi or centered around hunting and fishing. When I was big enough to go hunting and fishing, mostly keeping up with the adults, I got to experience deer camp life. Man. That was an experience all on its own. When I was nine, my dad came home with a frosted ear

Walker coonhound puppy. He said he'd paid the owner thirteen dollars for her, which was the price for registering dog papers in nineteen eighty one. The guy said he sold her cheap because frosted eer dogs won't hunt. Boy, was he wrong. We named her Lady. Dad and I started training her, and it seemed like no time before we had a year and a half old dog that would hammer out coons in just a few minutes. Around the time I was about eleven or twelve, my sister got married.

I started spending time with her and her new husband, who it turns out, loved to hunt as much as me and Dad. So when Dad was at work, I would go hunting with my brother in law and his friend. We would hit the corn fields in the river bottoms and hunt, sometimes until the early morning hours. Back then, if the landowner saw us hunting, he'd stop and make conversation just so he could hear that frosted ear walker echoing through the night air. Those are the memories that

decorate my childhood. One night in the autumn of nineteen eighty four, Lady and I were heading off on a hunt with my brother in law and his friend to some farm land off the Kenneybrew Road in Pocahontas, Mississippi. We were riding in an early seventies model two wheel drive Toyota that my brother in law had gotten from a step dad. It was just an old hunting truck and it had a lot of issues to prove it.

When we turned lady out on the north side of Kennerbrew Road, it wasn't long before she struck and took a small ditch headed south to what we called Kennerbrew. We jumped in the truck and headed back to the pavement. A few minutes later, we were standing on the bridge the lady had just run under and listening to her run deeper and deeper into the swamp. Suddenly she started tree barking. My brother in law said, she's a long way back there. Man. That was trouble, and we knew it.

The area was posted as private, but we were going to get dad's dog. We walked along the ditch and had high briars for about fifteen minutes until we came to the edge of the swamp. We stopped to catch our breath. Even though it was fall, it was still hot. We stood listening to lady on the tree for a minute before we started walking towards her. All of a sudden, she stopped. We stopped walking and my brother in law said, listen. It was so quiet we could hear an occasional vehicle

on Highway forty nine. We waited about ten minutes or so, and then we started call for lady. Several minutes went by, and we decided we'd better get back to Kinnerbrew Road in case lady went back to where we turned her out. But instead of going back the way we came, we slipped out onto someone's driveway and we went out that way. As we walked along in the moonlight from deep in the swamp where we'd last heard lady on the tree, something screamed. It was like a cross between a pig

squealing and a bull growling all in one. What was that? I asked, trying not to sound as startled as I was. American Werewolf in London had come out in nineteen eighty one. I didn't like scary movies, and my brother in law knew it. But he's a character, so he quipped, Oh, oh, that's just the American werewolf from London coming to get you. We all laughed and kept walking. Finally we got back to the truck, but there was no dog. We drove into a sage fill that went all the way to

the edge of the swamp. As soon as we stopped and turned off the truck, we heard the sound again, coming from the same area. Nowbody said a word. It was disturbingly quiet. About thirty seconds went by and it screamed again, except now it had cut the distance between us in half. This time it was my brother in law who asked, what was that. His friend said, I don't know any animal that makes that kind of noise and moves that fast. Another thirty or forty seconds passed

and it screamed again. It had to be within five hundred yards of us. Now we waited another twenty seconds. This time it was so loud I felt the rumble in my chest. It couldn't have been more than seventy five feet from the field. I think I almost passed out. At that point, my brother in law's friend crouched down on the floorboard and screamed, get us out of here. My brother in law, who had been standing beside the truck, jumped in and fired it up. He had gone limp,

and he said, I melted around the gear shift. The truck started and then immediately died. Apparently, when I went limp, I turned off the toggle switch mounted to the gear shift for the add on twelve fuel pump. He had to pull me back up in the seat so he could turn the switch and start the truck again, and we didn't stop until we were back on the pavement. We drove around for a while, but we couldn't find lady.

We went home and we told Dad what happened. He and my brother in law went back at daylight and called for lady from the bridge. After just a few minutes, she came out. Dad sure was glad to see her. We told different people about what had happened that night. We got told it was a big cat with its head in a hole. That's why it sounded far away at first. Then it pulled its head out some and it would sound like it was moving. Some of the older people said that they do this to get game

to move. I didn't buy that old tale. It's funny how sounds can trigger memories. Over the past year and a half, I've had three shoulder surgeries. While sitting in my lazy boy with tons of time on my hands, I started watching a lot of YouTube channels. My daughter suggested cryptids, and that's how I found your channel I had binge watched all of your stories when a suggested channel came up with the most terrifying sounds in the Canadian woods. When I heard that scream, the hair stood

up on the back of my neck. Every detail of that fall night when I was twelve came flooding back. Until then I had simply blocked it out subconsciously. It must have been what was drawing me to your channel. Thank you for not using my real name. There are a lot of people around here who would label me a crackpot. You are a crackpot. Chan. I'm just kidding, man, this is a great story. This kind of reminds me

of a story I did. I think it was like the second or third video I did about a guy here who told me a story about Bigfoot killing his best dog, and her name was Belle. Oh Man. This bigfoot actually got a hold of this dog and impaled it on a sapling that looked like he had broken it off just to shove her down on. Apparently, they don't like dogs, and they especially don't like coon dogs and coon dogs when you know, when they're in the kennel,

they're just as friendly as they can be. But you put them on a scent, and you turn them loose and they start getting after the coons. Man, those things get vicious and they they will go after since like that bigfoot leaves behind and heard I've heard story after story about raccoon dogs doing that. So this was a great story. I appreciate you spending the time. You wrote it well and we all enjoy at chan. Thank you, sir.

From a small town in Saline County, Illinois. The event takes place a few moons ago when I was sixteen. As a kid and a teenage boy, my friends and I spent our free time playing in the woods. Somewhere any place there was a creek to swim in, a tree or rocks to climb on, we were there. Our area was full of different legends and lore as well. Some stories were passed down through generations of the native people who walked the land before us, and some are

told by our recent ancestors. I assume that some of the stories I've heard are campfire stories and just for fun, But for a teenager back then, it didn't matter. We were fearless and the stories never deterred us. On the contrary, it made us more eager for adventure. We dreamed of solving an ancient mystery. My friends and I were a unique bunch, not that there was anything special about us,

just by how diverse our group was. And still we always managed to get along and overcome challenges amid all of our differences. For example, some believed in God while others were atheists. Some believed in ghosts and spirits while others didn't. We even went on missions looking for UFOs and aliens while others refused their existence, but they still tagged along for the ride. The area around where I live is heavily mined. One of my friends, Ricky, lived

on some old Mind property. We were all over the place out there, hiking and riding dirt bikes. A few miles from his house was an old abandoned Mind drag. A drag is an enormous piece of equipment. Imagine a four story building on track with a boom that reaches three hundred feet. It was once an operating giant, and now it sat there, resting away. But all we saw was a jungle gym for big kids. The only challenge

was how to get inside the giant beast. It had obviously been sealed off to keep would be intruders such as ourselves out. But after some time, some teamwork and like of fear of heights and confined spaces, we got inside. The main objective was to get to the top of the boom that pulled the massive bucket. There were five of us and we all wanted to make it to

the end of the main boom. We spent the greater part of the day climbing and exploring the machine, and we eventually made it to the end of the boom, and at the end of the day we discovered more areas to explore. From the roof, we found a way down to the engine room. It was through a steel door and into a vestibule that led to another steel door and then the engine room. We all climbed in at once and we shut the outside door behind us,

but we left the inner door open. These are solid steel doors rested by years of exposure to the weather, and they're not easy to move. We were about to head back to the exit hole and we heard a bang across from us on the adjacent catwalk, and then clanking of feet on steal as someone ran down some stairs, across another catwalk and up the other stairs right in front of us, we heard another solid steel door slam shut.

We were some tough guy teenagers at that point, but we turned pale and we took off running for our lives. We couldn't run fast enough to get out, and to get away, we had to head in the direction in which we heard this thing running. We had to squeeze through a small hatch one by one onto a two man platform, then down a ladder, and from there we had to descend the machine using the buddy system to get to the ground. It was not pretty or professional.

Five terrified boys were involved here, but we got it done and we escaped the Mind Drag safely. Some time later, Ricky and I were talking about that day and one of our skeptic friends, Ted, was with us. Ted said that he thought that we made the whole story up about what happened at the old Mind Drag. This led to some debate, and so to prove to Ted that the story was true, we agreed to take him out there. To make things scarier, we agreed to go at night

with no flashlights. There was half a moon, and we knew the land like the back of our hands, so it really was not a big deal. At least that is what we thought. We knew a short cut off an old black top road to save us some walking time, and we pulled down an old access road, leaving about a quarter mile walk back to the mind Drag. It was a qua walk in. None of us talked. The only sounds were our feet to the ground, and then we heard something in the bushes a few feet off

the trail, and we stopped to listen. It was out of place, but the sound stopped and we kept going. The bushes began to shake again after a few paces, but this time it was harder and faster. Something was there less than fifty feet from where we stood, and we had to see what it was, so we walked straight to the spot we knew the sound was coming from. We stopped a few feet from the hedge and we

looked around. Everything became quiet once again, and we were about to head back to the trail and we heard a stick snap. We turned and looked back, and a giant creature stood straight up on the other side and looked down at us. The only detail that really sticks out in my mind, besides its height or its glowing red eyes, and its hairy humanoid silhouette the moonlight. As this creature rose out of the bushes, I remember it growling. It was warning us, much like a dog growls low

and deep, letting us know that it meant business. I don't remember being this afraid ever in my life. I actually felt sick. All of us stood there looking up at this thing, and shock paralyzed might be a better word. But all at once we came to our senses and we turned and we ran back to our car. Ricky started the engine and we were about to blaze out of that place, and Ted yelled stop. Ted wanted to go back and make sure of what we had just seen. He explained in an excited tone that maybe it was

our imaginations. We had been talking about ghosts and monsters for weeks, and his theory was that we saw what we wanted to see. He even said it could have been a deer. I knew that I hadn't seen a deer. It was too big, and I also knew that it could tear us apart if it wanted to. But Ted was persuasive, and believe it or not, we agreed to go back and take another look. The plan was drawn

up on the spot. We would bring whatever we could find in the trunk for weapons and walk close together down the trail, and we wouldn't run back to the car. No matter what. We wouldn't run because somehow, in our minds we had convinced ourselves what we had seen was not real. Armed with a false sense of courage, a baseball bat and a tire iron, we began our journey back to face our fear ted carried an umbrella. It

was the only thing left in the trunk. After Ricky and I grabbed the other weapons, we paced back down the trail, confident that we would not see this thing again. But it was waiting on us. On the trail, lit by the moonlight, still way taller and bigger than any of us, stood the same monster. Once again. We paused in amazement. No one dared run. We knew we would forever be called a chicken. There was pride involved here.

So three teenage boys stood in front of an eight to nine foot tall beast in the dark like we knew what we were doing. It was a staredown. For a minute, it didn't appear to be aggressive, which elevated our confidence. I took a step forward and my buddies followed me with a step of their own. The second step I made towards the creature only ten yards away, was a lunge. I wanted to startle it and see if it would run. Our weapons were held in front of us, ready to use. We had made the first move.

Instantly the creature lunched right back at us with a loud roar that shook my internal organs. At that point, no one can about being called a chicken. Bravery went out the window. I'm not sure how we got out of that without wetting our breeches, but we turned and ran. The thought kept running through my head what was I thinking? That thought stays with me to this day. Gravel sprayed behind the car and we made it out of the mining area I live. That night, we talked about the

event for days. At that point in my life, the stories of Bigfoot, the tuttle bottomed monster, boogers in the woods were all imaginary things I had heard but never dreamed were true. For years, my buddies and I messed around in those woods. We always heard strange sounds, wood knocks, whistles, and other things, and we never thought anything about it. The truth is we were never once alone in those woods. The stories are true. These things are real, and they

existed in our world. I saw one, and I even challenged it. My advice is to not do that. Ever, it has been several years since this happened, and I now think the monster had no intention of hurting us. You would not have ever convinced me of that when it happened, but I think it wanted us out of there. It could have been on us in a split second and killed all three of us quickly, but it didn't. We finally left the area, and I will assume the

creature got what it wanted. It probably had a big laugh with its buddies back at the cave, laughing at the kids who challenged the bigfoot. I just thought it was a great story. I don't know what else. I've never heard one where somebody actually challenged a bigfoot. I've heard them where they take shots at them, but I've never heard one where a guy actually took a lunge at a bigfoot. That's an awesome story, Mike. Thank you for the email. Can't you through it?