In nineteen seventy two, I was running beaver traps on a small creek located in Blunt County, Alabama. I worked days, so I had to run the trap line after work, which meant at twilight or in the dark. On one particular evening, I had completed running the line and was working my way back to the car along a very steep creek bank above me and several yards to my right, I heard what I thought was an owl. The hooting sound continued moving parallel to me as I walked, but
it was walking and making heavy footfalls. I was unarmed except for my trapping hatchet, and since it usually didn't take very long to run the line, I wasn't even carrying a flashlight. The trail out was broken up with small openings in the timber, so I figured I could get a look at whatever this thing was. So when I reached the first opening, I turned around to face the creature, and I walked backwards across the opening, peering
through the trees trying to see what it was. I couldn't see anything, but the hooting continued as it moved around the perimeter of the opening and reached the other side about the same time. That I did. Trying hard not to panic. I continued to walk backwards to the next opening, which was much larger. Actually it was a hay field, Knowing it could not get closer to me without coming out into view, I was confident I was about to find out what this thing was. No such luck.
Whatever it was came to the edge of the field and continued its vocalizations until I was out of range of hearing it. Knowing I had to return there the next evening. I got a large flashlight and an old military rifle, a Swedish Schmidt Ruben in seven point five millimeter, but I never saw or heard it again. Story is one hundred percent true and is only one of several encounters I've had over the years. The next encounter was in the summer of nineteen seventy four in Blunt County, Alabama.
My cousin and I worked the night shift at different companies and had plans for a weekend camp out. We chose the creek that I had been trapping beaver on the previous winter because of the abundance of beaver that we had planned to hunt. We got a late start that Friday night, and it was way after dark. Getting into the woods, we had to push through the cane break to get up to the spot where we planned to camp and get set up, and we got there
about eleven PM. Everything was great except for the mosquitoes that's an Alabama staple until about two am. Something was throwing rocks into the creek just out of the glow of the campfire. We both had twenty two rifles, but my cousin had tried to get me to bring my forty four magnum carban I had declined because it was heavy. We decided that we wanted to find out what was stowing these rocks. So with only the flashlight and we started moving towards the spot near where the splash of
rocks had come from. We came up on an old brush pile when a very deep, menacing growl directed at us came from just the other side of the brush pile. I stopped and turned to say something to my cousin, but he was already halfway back to the campfire with the only light we had, leaving me alone in the dark with whatever it was there. Well, I made it back to the fire as quickly as I could. Now I asked my cousin why he left me in the dark. And all he would say is, we should have brought
a forty four. I told you, we should have brought the forty four. The remainder of that very long night was uneventful, but we decided not to press our luck, and we packed up and we left at first light. And here's my third encounter that I had with an unknown creature. In the fall of nineteen seventy four, I had just bought a brand new Remington seven hundred bolt rifle in thirty six caliber. The deer season had just opened in Blunt County, and I was anxious to try
out my new deer rifle. I got an old high school chum to go hunting with me, but he wasn't interested in deer. He carried a twenty two automatic rifle. Arriving at our hunting area, we split up. He sat down on the top of a ridge to watch for squirrels while I took to a shallow haller known to be a betting area for deer. I found a few beds in tree rubs by bucks, so I knew I
was in the right spot. Just as in the previous encounter, I heard walking up on the other side of the ridge that my friend was on with me in between. I listened a bit until it started hooting or whooping. I headed back to where my friend was seated, and it kept pace with me, very reminiscent of a previous encounter. I joined my friend and we sat there silently, and then whatever it was started down into the haller and
coming straight towards us without acknowledging the critter. I asked my friend if he was ready to go, and he nodded in the affirmative. We headed for his car that was parked across the old dirt road as the critter began closing the distance faster than we were comfortable with. We still had not said anything to each other about being followed until we got into his car, and then I said, did you hear that? All he said was yep.
We never spoke of it again, and since that time we have camped in the same area without incident, at least not from any wild animal. There was this car load of drunks one night. Though I have been trying to hold back lafing about that forty four coment should have brought the forty four. We should have brought the forty four, because that's what I would have been saying, why didn't you bring your damn big hand cannon, boy?
But these are great encounters, you know. I think there's a lot of bigfoot activity in Alabama, especially North Alabama up in those hills in the in the mountains. It's a beautiful part of the state. They have great fishing and deer hunting. Man Alabama's an awesome place to deer hunt and really hunt anything. You got lake wise and you got gunners will in the Tennessee River and big bass. I know several guys that live in that area and
that's all they do. They crappie fish and they bass fish, and they deer hunt and they work as a sideline. You know, that's where them Alabama boys are. But this was a great story, Jimmy, Jimmy Ray, I really appreciate you sending it, and I know everyone enjoyed it. Thanks buddy. It was around September or October nineteen seventy. My battalion had been activated to go to Vietnam and we were
doing some intense training to get ready. The training was taking place in heavily forested areas of Fort Jackson, South Carolina. It was dark that night, and my platoon was on the left flank of the main body, and we were moving to attack and capture the aggressor force opposing us. I was a PFC at the time, and I was a squad leader. Orders came down from my squad to move up and scout ahead of the main body. We were moving from tree to tree slowly and as quietly
as possible. I moved ahead to this really large tree and I got down to a prone position and I listened. All I could hear was silence. There were no bugs, no frogs, nothing. I put my hand down to push up to my feet, and all hell broke loose. What I had put my hand down on was a bogger's foot. He roared so loudly I couldn't hear for the next fifteen minutes. I shot up and I backed up, shouting for the rest of the squad to retreat, all the
while firing my M sixteen. Don't worry, they weren't live rounds, they were blanks. With all the noise in my entire platoon racing towards me, the bogger took off, crashing through the woods. After everything had quieted down, you could see the destruction it had made getting the hell out of there. Later after, a bunch of guys all dressed in black showed up, asking a lot of questions, taking some measurements,
and who knows what else. I found out that the bugger was eight foot eleven inches tall, and they said it weighed around nine hundred to one thousand pounds. Looking back, I don't think it was there to hurt anyone, and it was just curious. I prefer to remain anonymous because there are a lot of people who think anyone who Club aims to believe is crazy. I believe there's something to the stories people have reported from all over the world. I am a seventy one year old native of northeast Texas.
I live in a rural area where I have hunted deer and fished most of my life. My son and I fish in various lakes as often as we have the opportunity to do so. In October of twenty and sixteen, we were off on one of our fishing expeditions to a lake in North Lamar County. The park called Lamar Point was located across the part of the lake just north of the boat ramp where we plan to put in to fish, and there's a community near there by
the same name. We arrived that afternoon and set up our tents with the intent of doing a little fishing and having some good conversation. I was also looking forward to the cooking, because my son has become quite a good outdoor cook with both the grill and the Dutch oven. So we ate a good meal and we talked for a while and enjoyed the peace and quiet of nature and watch the sun go down before deciding to turn
in for the night. There were a few people in the RVs not far from us, who I imagine we're doing the same. At three am, I was awakened by a loud sound. It was a yell of a large animal that went on for what felt like I solid three minutes or more. I thought it would never stop. The sound stirred up a pack of cootes who joined in and yipped and howled back at it. But this sound was much louder. There is some government land just east of Lamar Point, and this seemed to be where
the sound was coming from. The water between where the sound was originating and us was half a mile I was thinking, if this thing stops yelling and comes this way, that water isn't nearly wide enough to keep it away from us. A lot of thoughts went through my mind during the eternity. That was a single call, but I just stayed still and silent, and my son did the same. I knew he'd heard it. It would have been impossible not to. I'm sure the people in the RV's heard
it too. Anyone within a fairly large radius would have had to hear that thing. It was that loud. Since my son had apparently decided not to get up, I decided to fall suit. By six am, I hadn't slept and decided it was time for a cup of coffee. I was heating up the water when he came out of his tent and looked at me for a few seconds before saying, did you hear that last night? Yes? I answered, what the heck was it? He had never
spoken on the subject before. We'd never even thought or talked about anything like this, Dad, my son said, after giving it thought for a moment, that was mister Bigfoot. I didn't doubt it. I did not see it, nor do I want to. As to the question, do they exist. If you had heard what we heard that night, you would never question its existence again. My son had lived in Lamar Point for a few years prior to this, though he has since moved from there. I had never
heard one before, but he had. Well that's my bigfoot story, and I hope I never have another one to tell. In nineteen seventy nine, I went backpacking with my girlfriend, my two children, my brother and his two children. The children were all between eight and twelve years old. We hiked into Oregon's Three Sisters Wilderness Area, heading for the
Mink Lake Basin. We were two thirds of the way to the main lake, walking down the Mountain Ridge pathway when I spotted movement to my left, one hundred feet away. It could have been a bear, but it looked more like a bigfoot to me. It was nine to ten feet tall, and it stood there watching us for the longest time. I tried to push the thought of big foot out of my head to keep fear from taking over and turning into panic, but it was difficult to imagine a bear standing and watching us for so long
without going down on all fours at some point. Fortunately, by the time we got to Mink lake. I had buried my fears and was ready to have a good time. So we found a nice camp spot at the end of the peninsula near the lake, and for the next three days we all had the time of our lives. On the third night, we were all sitting around the camp fire roasting winters and marshmallows, when at ten point thirty we heard something that sounded by pedal walking past
our campsite. It was like the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk. I bet it weighed eight hundred pounds. We could hear it pass by us, walk down the trail of good distance, turn around, and then walk back past our camp Not only could we hear it, but we could also see it moving in the trees. It was too dark to make out any detail, but we could make out its form, and it was enormous. The children started getting scared, so my brother suggested that we all
go to bed. We climbed into our tents, somehow finding security and being inside. My brother, however, elected to stay outside. He's never been afraid of anything, and he wanted to sleep alone out under the stars. Well. That worried me a little bit, but what could I say. Somehow, We managed to fall asleep, and the next morning we awoke to the sound of hundreds of pigeons in the trees overhead. We'd never seen a sight like it before. We spent
the morning being entertained by them and feeding them. It was a nice diversion that took our minds off the previous night. Eventually, our interest in the birds waned and we headed down to play in the water. The whole day was great. Later, my brother came over to me and said, why don't we pack up and hike out this evening and find another place to camp for tomorrow. I agreed, but I couldn't help but wonder if he had seen or experienced something that he wasn't sharing with me.
We all packed our bags and started walking across the mountain ridge towards our car. In my haste to get everything packed, I had put all the flashlights in the bottoms of the backpacks. Now the sun was setting and we still had thirteen miles to go. To help us move faster, my brother decided to take one of the children's packs and hike out and then come back for another.
He'd be able to move faster carrying two packs than any of the kids could carry one, and without a pack, that child would be able to move faster and we'd all get back to the car sooner. With just me, my girlfriend and the four kids, we continued on our way. We were two and a half miles from the car when we started hearing noises on the trail behind us. We were heading towards the mountain switchbacks. Whatever was following
us was only fifty feet back. The footfalls and the heavy breathing left no doubt in my mind a bigfoot was tracking us. What was I going to do with my girlfriend and four children hiking through the woods alone in complete darkness. We were all so scared that we didn't want to stop and unload the backpacks to find our flashlights. With every step, the fear increased to the point that it was almost tangible. Our hearts were racing and anxiety was setting in. I had to do something
or we would all be lost. I was afraid that this giant being, this bigfoot, might grab one of the children and dash off into the night, and we'd never see them again. I put my daughter in front of me and one of the boys behind me, then my girlfriend with the other two boys in front of her, and we continued down the trail, and every now and then we switched the kids around, much to their dislike, and we kept going. The whole thing was very intense.
To help alleviate the children's fear and keep moving, we started singing the snow white song, High Hoe, High Hoe. That beast was right behind us the whole way. Thump, thump, thump. What was I doing? I must have been out of my mind. We got to the start of the first switchback and we're headed for the second when we heard the creature run down the side of the mountain to
wait on the trail ahead of us. Our hearts were pounding in our ears and we were visibly shaking as we passed by where we could see its form outlined in the darkness. We passed it and began our way down the next switchback. Just like before, it fell in right behind us. Minutes later, it ran down the mountain again to wait for us. At the next switchback, we
had to pass it again. It was terrifying seeing this massive black object in the night, standing just up the bank from us, watching us as we marched along singing. There were a lot more switchbacks ahead, and that thing followed us in this manner for two and a half miles until my brother finally showed up to take another backpack. By then the children were scared out of their minds and exhausted. We finally made it to the car. We loaded up the children in the backpacks as quickly as
we could. I had just finished telling my brother what had followed us when we heard it again. It was standing behind a fir tree on the edge of the trail near the clearing. It was watching us at the car again. My brother is brave and he's never afraid of anything, and he said, follow me. We're going to find out what the heck this thing really is. My
brother picked up two rocks that filled his hands. He told me to grab some two and I picked up two big ones and we stood there listening for a minute. We could hear it over behind the fir tree, and my brother threw a rock at it and it let out a groan. Then he threw another one and it groaned again, and then he threw another, and another and another, and finally we ran out of rocks, and I said, what are we going to do now? He looked at
me and he yelled, run. We both took off. We ran over and jumped in the car as fast as we could. Seconds later, our tires were throwing dart and gravel as we fishtailed for a good hundred feet. In my rear view mirror, I saw the outline of the creature stepping out into the parking one We never I went back to that place again. That bigfoot or sasquatch could have killed any of us at any time. Instead, it just followed us out of the woods to safety. I wonder if that was its real purpose all along.
Was it protecting us as we traveled in the dark. Was there something out there that would have hurt us if it hadn't been there. Now, I'm sorry that we threw rocks, but at the time it made perfect sense.