Archive 63 Bigfoot

One smoldering summer night at my grandmother's farm, the adults were engaged in their usual routine of cooking dinner before settling in for a night of card playing. Meanwhile, I was slipping outside with my brother who was eleven, my cousin who was eight, and my dad's ten year old brother, our uncle, to hang out at the edge of one of the pastures, where the yard light on a pole made a bright circle in the night. Beyond that halo,

the world was inky black. Within the light was the pasture gate, where we liked to sit and use our sling shots to play sort of a gigantic game of marbles by shooting rocks out of the circle and into the night. We were all sitting up on the gate, engrossed in our game and cutting up and laughing as little boys will do, when our attention was suddenly drawn in the direction of the barn located one hundred yards

to our left. We silently stared and listened as something massive and heavy came running through the pasture from that direction. We shot looks at each other as we realized the speed at which this thing was running. We knew it was on two legs, and that brought another round of glances to one another. Every thump, thump, thump of those pounding steps burned itself into my mind as we sat

waiting to see what this thing could be. It was at the edge of the light when it came to a complete stop, as if it had just then noticed us sitting there. The brightness ended so abruptly at the circle's edge that all we could see were two tree trunk sized legs from the knees down. They were massive. We could tell they were covered with brown hair that looked like long, fine brown wire. It was swaying like the hair on a wig moving in the wind. Then

my uncle did something that surprised us. All had a rock locked and loaded in a slingshot and chose that moment to fire it right at the creature. We knew it hit its mark by the thump it made when it hit the animal's body, followed by a plunk as it hit the ground at its feet. But what happened next was the craziest thing I'd ever seen in all my nine years of living. The creature picked up the rock and threw it back at us, missing my head

by inches. Instantly, as if the devil himself were chasing us, we sprang into action and sprinting for the house, pushing at and tripping over each other as we ran. It wasn't a matter of out running that thing in the darkness. We were trying to outrun each other. No one wanted to be the last man in line, and there was no doubt in our minds that whichever poor soul came

in last would go down first. We breathlessly burst through the door, screaming for our parents to come outside and dispatch the monster in the pasture, but they just laughed at us. They went back to their card game. Certain we were making up the whole thing. There was nothing left for us to do. We weren't going back outside with an adult to get rid of the beast. So we cleaned up and we went to bed, but none of us slept that night, knowing there was something out there.

The next morning, my dad and my stepfather weren't at the breakfast table. We asked my grandmother where they were, and as soon as she told us they were out in the pasture, we ran out the front door to join them. We found them at the far end examining a piece of fence that had been ripped up and completely demolished, as if something large had run right through it. My step grandfather and dad were baffled by the damage. All the animals were accounted for. They couldn't imagine what

had done this. My name is Lynn. I live in Colman, Alabama. In nineteen eighty nine, my grandparents bought a sixty seven acre farm. I was four when they moved in and nine when Papa sold it. The farm had two new chicken houses with runs, and two old houses that were used for feeding hay storage. There was a pond right

behind the house. From my grandparents' house to the chicken houses was a quarter mile or more, connected by a little dirt and gravel road on one side of the road were the chicken houses, and on the other side, and about forty yards way was a creek bed. My granny had cancer. She was doing chemotherapy off and on until she passed when I was seven. Several Times before she passed she said she saw bigfoot out behind the pond or in the pond. She was a religious woman,

so I know she just wouldn't lie. I can't guarantee the chemotherapy didn't play a part in it, though. Once I was awakened in the middle of the night and told to get in the truck. We drove down to the chicken houses. Some of my grandfather's friends were already down there. They were all carrying guns and the headlights of their cars were pointed down between the chicken houses. I wasn't allowed to get out of the truck, but I asked what was down there, and I was told

it was a fox. Now I'm smart enough to know it doesn't take that many people to kill a fox. I walked that dirt road from the main house to the chicken houses and back a good bit myself. Once I thought I saw something moved between the middle of the old chicken houses. I was coming from the house down to the new chicken houses, and I saw it through spots where the curtains were ripped or gone on the old chicken house windows. At first I thought it was one of our cows. By the time I got

close enough to get a look, nothing was there. I also think I had seen movement inside the old houses before. Because of that, I would never look at them as I walked by. Plus, I would often hear walking noises from the woods beyond the creek bed, and I felt like I was being watched. There came a point when I always felt like I was being watched no matter where I went around that place. I had a two twenty four wheeler that I went everywhere on except the woods.

Paul Paul told me to stay out of the woods. There were trails, some Paul Paul made with his tractor and some that were already there, and they all ran through the woods in typical facts. Wishing for a young boy, I did what I wasn't supposed to do until I get caught. One time, when I was in the woods on a trail I'd never been on before, I found what I think was a cave entrance. Before I could explore it, I got the eerious feeling and I got gone.

It was getting close to dark now I was kind of lost, and I ended up getting on a trail that led me to our neighbor's house four miles away by way of paved road, which I took all the way back home. There used to be this tree right behind the house that I would play in all the time. It was thirty feet away from the pond behind the house. One day, I ran outside and jumped in the tree and started climbing up to my usual high spot. Many times I've seen our cattle in the pond splashing and

twirling their tails. But as I turned around to take my perch HiPE in the tree, I saw something move and splashed that I could not recognize. It was all black, and it swung its arms in the water like you might if you were trying to splash someone in a pool. I don't remember hearing any kind of special sounds other than water splashing. It was just a movement that got my attention. I jumped down and I ran inside. I don't remember seeing any cattle around the pond that day either.

It was like they were using our pond to bathe in, and it was splashing at me, trying to say, hey, I'm bathing here, boy, go inside. Not far from the farm is the road to Arley. And one night my mom's sister was coming home down that road from my great aunt's house when she saw something. She pulled up to the house, honking the horn. Pale white, and she said she peed herself. She was scared speechless. Once Mom got her calm down enough to talk, she said she'd

seen something on the curve of that road. It was up in the distance. At first, she thought it was a coyote, and then she realized it was a lot bigger than a kaya, and thought maybe it was a bear. And when her headlights hit it, it stood up and it ran across the road. I've always heard rumors of bears in this area, but I've never heard any sightings myself. When I asked my aunt about it, she said it stood up on two legs and ran across the road

like a man. She won't call it a bigfoot, and neither would my mom back when she first told me that story. Well, it was on that same road that my great aunt, the one from whose house my aunt was returning that night, had an accident she was missing for two weeks. I was young at the time, between five and seven, but I remember the wreck because I remember her being missing, and I remember the vehicle being

my granny's old for ranger back when I was a kid. Though, when someone went missing, they might have just been in jail or the hospital. My great aunt, however, insists that for two weeks she was missing and she was being taken care of by a family of Bigfoot. They couldn't talk like us, but they could understand each other with gestures. Eventually they led her back to the road for someone to find her. Well, those are my Bigfoot stories. I hope you can use them. Thanks for the channel. It's

a story about the Boggie Creek, the falc area. I always love these stories, and I love it when people send these in because the legend of Boggie Creek is the catalyst that put so many people on the trail of Bigfoot and interested in Bigfoot. It's still today, it's an iconic movie. But this is a foul Arkansas story. Miller County is located in the southwest corner of Arkansas. Its county seat is Texas Arcana, but it is perhaps most famous for the tiny town that lies less than

twenty miles to the south, known as Foalk. My family has lived in Miller County since before the Civil War. I lived in Foult for most of my young life. We were not in the camp of believers in the foulk monster made famous by the movie The Legend of Boggy Creek. It may come as a surprise to many, but not everyone in that region believes sometime in nineteen eighty one or nineteen eighty two, I was around fourteen years old, and something happened that in recent years has

made me question my family's position in the fall. I had invited a friend from school to spend the weekend with me to scout deer hunting places for the upcoming deer season. Our house was surrounded by fifty acres of standing hardwood timber, with a large creek running through it. Beyond that timber was a large cutover of four hundred

acres or more. It seemed to go on forever. That day, we had walked all the way across that land looking for deer sign when we came up on an odor so powerful and so bad, I told my friend I didn't want to find the source of it. I assumed it was a dead horse or some other large animal decomposing in the hot Arkansas sun. It smelled like a cross between rotten meat, trash, raw sewage, and a heavy dose of strong sulfur, similar in intensity to a skunk, but different. It hung so thick in the air that

we could almost taste it. We decided it was time to go home, and we turned a head back. It was getting dark, but we followed the logging roads that ran in straight lines between the properties. As we walked along with our timber to our right, the cutover to our left, and the setting sun sinking in the sky behind us, we became aware of something paralleling us in the timber beside the cutover. We couldn't see anything in the failing light, but it sounded like it was on

two feet and that it was fairly close. I called out to it, but it didn't get a response. A quarter mile up the road, we turned right along the property line. As a result, whatever was following us was now silhouetted against the sun. Did you see that? My friend cried. He was so upset he couldn't stop blubbering

and wringing his hands. I hadn't seen anything, so he pointed into the woods and he said, look right there, at the bottom of a large oak tree, I could see a shadow about three feet off the ground, peering back at us. It was all black, made even more so by the sun behind it, so I couldn't make out any features. I did note, however, that it didn't have any ears on top of its head, and I

thought that was strange. If it had been a dog or a coyote, I would have expected to see ears, But since I didn't believe in the legend, it was nothing to be worried about. By now, my friend was having a nervous breakdown. He started begging me to start running. He wanted to get away from there. My family's lived here for generations. I assured him, there's nothing to worry about. There's nothing here that can hurt you, but he was not impressed. We still had fifty acres of timber to

walk through, and the sun was disappearing fast. As it vanished beyond the horizon, darkness swallowed the woods, leaving us unable to move forward until the sodium light came on in the yard so I could find the house. We moved slowly towards home, and that thing in the woods stayed behind us within fifty feet the entire time, Even though we had nothing more than a couple of pellet guns. I was never afraid. It had to be some sort

of animal, but nothing to be concerned with. Finally we got back to the house and we're safely in the kit where my friend lost his mind. He called us folks to come get him. They showed up and put him in the floorboard of the car and covered him with a blanket. He was a basket case. The next Monday, he went to school and told everyone that we had seen the Foult monster. People asked me what I saw, and I said it was something small behind a tree, nothing to be afraid of. The kid quit speaking to

me after that. A few days later he moved to a different school. I wouldn't see him for another six years when we ran into each other in college history class. And after all that time, he still would not speak to me. Over two decades passed before I gave it another thought. I was watching an episode of Finding Bigfoot where the witness described an incident that was the same basic story I just related. The biggest difference was that

this person's encounter happened to be in Utah. All what he had seen poking out from behind a tree where the creature's knees. I sat straight up in my chair as the hair stood up on the back of my neck. I was immediately backing that cutover with that kid. Did he see more than I did? I can't say I saw a bigfoot, and I'm not sure what else it could be or what could explain it. Well. Uh, I want to keep wanting to say his name, because he's got a good name, he's got a good Southern name,

but I won't. I won't say his name, but I wonder if there's any way to get in touch with this guy and uh, maybe shake his hand and say, hey, let's bear the hatchet. I think maybe you did see something. I don't know, but I understand exactly what this writer's saying. I mean, if I was out in the woods and somebody said, hey, I saw something, I'd say, Oh, you didn't see nothing, come on, let's keep going. I'm that way.

I'm like, I'm one of these people that likes to dismiss things that I encountered that are strange out in the woods because I always It kind of depends on who the person is. I think if it was my wife, I would say, all that's nothing, come on. I mean, if she hears a little scratching in the house, she thinks of mouse is in the house. We live in the country and mice are just a fact of life out here, but our house is not covered up with

them except in the winter. But it's summertime and we actually have She saw a mouse run across the handrail on the back porch, so she's freaking out, and I'm like, don't worry about it. That they need a place to stay too, and I'm gonna have to get rid of them all. But you get my point. You kind of dismiss these things and you don't think anything else about it. It's not something that's ever on your mind, but it's on the other person's mind and they get mad at

you for it. And yeah, my wife gets mad at me when I dismiss her about the mice. So I can see both sides of this, one way or another. This was a great story and the guy wrote it just perfectly. It was a great story. And again, I love these Foult monsters stories, and it was so nice of him to send it in and I really appreciate him. This is a story that was emailed to me from John O. He is from Australia and this is a great story. My father drove a truck for a road

builder one Saturday in nineteen sixty six. He took me to work with him. I was ten years old at the time. Dad's boss was building a home at a place called lang Lang in the state of Victoria, Australia. We drove down there and Dad went to work dragging a huge timber up and down a dirt road so that it would look worn. It was the central beam of the house. There was a dam a couple one hundred meters down from the building site, and I got

the idea to build a raft. I found four ten gallon drums and some nails and timber, and I borrowed a hammer and I rolled and carried everything down to the dam. It was hard work for a ten year old, but I got it done. I'd been at it for about an hour when I had this overwhelming feeling that I was being watched. I brushed it off and I kept on working. But then that feeling of danger came

over me again. My young sixth sense kept telling me to pay attention, and I stood up and perused the tree line at the edge of the clearing around the dam. I finally noticed a dark, circular shape in the meter high light brown grass of the clearing, and it disappeared and then reappeared again, changing from a circular shape to

a more oval shape. I picked up a piece of timber about twice my height, and it was too big to grip comfortably, and I ignored my inner voice that was screaming, it's a bore, it's a wild dog, it's a wombat, and I proceeded toward the anomaly. My curiosity won the battle, and when I got within a couple of meters from the high grass, I put the timber in front of me and I approached the spot where I'd seen the shape. I peered over the grass and I saw an animal that could have dragged me into

the bush land and never be seen again. It was a black panther with brown streaks through its shiny black fur. I saw it from the left hand side. It was crouching down and moving away from me. It was agitated, and it was snarling, doing what I would describe as a fake charge, but in retreat it would turn its head back toward me, showing me one extremely large canine

about the size of an adult index finger. I didn't realize it at the time, but I had gone in shocked, and I stood there holding the piece of timber in front of me, one foot in front of the other, capable of moving only my eyes and head. As I watched it disappear out of sight. My thoughts were to get out of there, but not to run. How many more were there, I thought, would that one double back and get me? How far was I from the safety of the house? And why was my body not moving?

When I finally regained some composure, my legs work like a rusty robot. I stepped back, slowly, keeping the timber piece in front of me. All the while I was scanning the tall grass and up and down the paddocks in the bush land. I backed all the way down the hill and up the other side, And when I finally heard voices close by, I turned and ran straight for a man who was up a ladder painting the outside of a house. He looked down at me and he said, hey, son, you look like you've seen a ghost.

I couldn't find my voice to answer him. I was still in shock. I went straight into the living area, where I sat on a pile of timbers, surrounded by workmen, and I pondered what I had just seen. I don't know how long I had been sitting there when I heard my father say, come on, son, let's go. I was never so relieved as I was to get into that truck and go home. After a while, I finally found my and I said, Dad, I saw a panther today. He responded with, don't be stupid. There's no sich thing

in Australia. That was it. I never spoke of it again. In the early nineteen nineties, my wife and I took our twins to the zoo and when we got to the big cat enclosures, we saw a black panther or a leopard with slight brown markings, sitting high up on a log. I stopped in my tracks and gazed in awe. All of those old emotions came flooding back. This was definitely what I had seen, except to go through it with my wife on several occasions. I have kept this

experience locked away since I was ten years old. She's a good listener, Thank God, and I realize now that the peace September I was holding had probably saved my wife. In nineteen sixty six, when I was ten, there was only hearsay about these things. But the advent of the Internet and more advanced media resources, more and more stories have come to light. I'm an ex serviceman. I stand six feet tall and I weigh two hundred and twenty pounds. Not much throws me, but I do have one Achilles heel.

I don't go into the bush alone, and if I go in a group, you'll find me at the back carrying a big piece September, pretending I use it for stability.