Bigfoot Pie Thief

little town. You can find it on Google Maps, and it seems to me much like it was back fifty years ago, mostly pine forests, and it will probably look the same in another fifty years. There were no jobs, but some old geezer down the road would pay five dollars for raccoon pelts. One day on my visit, we decided to give it a try and harvest a raccoon. Travis and I each had a single shot twenty two rifle and probably no more than a handful of bullets

between us. At four o'clock that afternoon, we loaded up and walked across the big field beside the house. The other side of the field was bordered by a heavy pine forest. Many years before it had been logged, so there was an old hall road that we followed deeper into the woods. We had a small fis dog with us, not much more than an oversized chihuahua, and it wasn't long before the dog treed a raccoon. Travis killed it without any problem. It was a big one, and we

took turns carrying it. It was so heavy that we decided to hang it on the fork of a small sapling and then pick it up on our way back. We walked another half an hour or so deeper into the woods, but it was getting too dark to see much, so we decided to go back home. We only had one flashlight and it was taped to the barrel of my rifle with electrical tape. My rifle had a small scope on it, but it was almost worthless as it was getting too dark to see anything through the eyepiece.

About that time we got back to the sapling and the dog started acting strange, and it circled around us, and it was looking back, and it was howling. I shined the light around and I saw two red eyes high off the ground, but only for a second before

they vanished. There had always been stories about panthers in Louisiana, but Travis said the eyes were much too high off the ground, and there weren't any thick enough trees nearby for a panther to have been perched over us, Plus a panther's eyes shine would have been green, not red. We continued walking and occasionally shine the light behind us. The dog went nuts the whole time, howling and looking

back into the darkness. The eyes were not always visible, but we could feel that we were being fallen, and at one point we were so scared that Travis dropped a cartridge into his rifle, But in his haste, he tried to slam the bolt shut before the cartridge was properly aligned, and it mangled the cartridge, and it's a miracle that it didn't explode. After we left the woods and walked into the field, we could see the lights

of the house ahead. We checked our rifles to make sure that we both had a cartridge ready to fire, and then we looked back at the trees, expecting to finally see what had been following us. We could tell it was there, but it wouldn't come out of the woods, stayed just inside the tree line. We even saw its

eyes a couple of times. We decided to drop the raccoon after about one hundred yards, and then continued walking a short distance, and we waited, thinking that it would come after it, But still it wouldn't leave the woods, and when the light of Travis's mom's car turned into the driveway, we left the raccoon in the field and we ran back to the house. The next morning, we went back for the raccoon, but it was gone, and

so was our five dollars. I have told this story a few times when people have asked me if I thought it might have been a bigfoot in nineteen seventy I had never heard the term bigfoot. I don't remember hearing anything or smelling anything. I've heard people say they often hear knocks and screams or bad smells, but none of that happened to us. Still, the presence of this thing was uncanny. We didn't have to see it to

know that it was there with us. Travis and I drifted apart after that, and I never did figure out what was in the woods that night. Baby Travis is a Dixie Cryptid fan too, and will remember the good times that we had and that night that those red eyes followed us all the way through the woods. Okay, that is the perfect To me, that's the perfect Bigfoot story. It's almost like, you know how they say girls these days dressed too revealing and they don't leave anything to

the imagination. That's what this story is. It's a story that's not showing us too much, but it's making us wonder what in the world followed these guys out of the woods. And there's some drama to it. I know that sounds corny, but there's some drama to it. As I was reading it, I kept I think ahead while I'm reading. Sometimes I'm not even thinking about what I'm reading. I'm thinking what's going to happen next, What's going to

happen next? And I kept thinking that in this story, and it wasn't resolved in the end, which is almost great because we get to figure, we get to imagine what in the world was following this guys. Now, I know people who follow the Bigfoot topic and all that stuff are going to say, well, hell, that was a bigfoot. Why would you think it was anything else? But it

could have been something else. It could have been it could have been a mountain lion, it could have been I don't know what has red eyes, Does anything have red eyes in the woods. People always have an opinion on that. Anyway, The point is it was a great story. I really appreciate it. And I hope Travis is a Dixie Cryptid fan and he hears this, and you two

guys can connect again. Wouldn't that be cool? So Travis, send me an email if you want to reconnect with your buddy, and I'll pass the email address on to him, and you guys can reconnect. Talk about old times and talk about that time that thing followed, y'all, raccoon hunting all the way out of the woods down in Louisiana. Lose Aarner as my grandparents, you say, down to lose Arner. All right, let's go to another story. Thanks brother. Okay, here's Rebecca says. This is a bigfoot and a grizzly

bear story. You know, I never talk about Rebecca Weston, the woman who actually cleans up every single e I don't even read them anymore. I just go through my list, I copy them and paste them in a word file, and I'll send her anywhere from ten to thirty at a time. And she's always so fast, and she says she loves doing this. I'm going to have her on a live stream pretty soon. I would have done it by now, but I have a computer. My computer used to do live streams, but now I can't get it

to do anything. It's a computer I've had for about six or seven years. I have a brand new computer, but I haven't. I've got all my work software on this one right here, and I kind of hate as long as it's working. I hate to change it, you know, because then I have to go through two days of loading up software and blah blah blah. But as soon as I get my new computer installed this spring, we're gonna She's agreed to come on for a live you know.

Rebecca is an author. She's written a great book called No Good Man. If you want to read it, do a cir on Amazon for No good Man by Rebecca Lee Wesson. I actually read the first chapter of that book as a promo several months ago. And she's written a couple of She's written one really good short story for this channel called The hat Man. I thought it was a great story. But I think she's a really talented writer and man, she can smoke out these edits

for these emails like you wouldn't believe. And I really appreciate her so much, so I never say much about Rebecca. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be able to do hardly any of these stories because it takes forever to kind of weed through them and make sure they're written right, or at least make sure that they're written so that I can just jump in and read them. And that's the whole point of it. So, Rebecca, if

you're listening to this podcast, I appreciate you. I love you, love your family, and I hope you guys are doing good. All right, let's get on with this Bigfoot and Grizzly Bear story. I am a seventy one year old female born in Scott County, Arkansas. We lived in the backsticks. Our farm bordered and was isolated by the Watchtaw National Forest to the north and the foul lethe River to the south. My two sisters and I had to be

up and out of bed at four thirty am. We had to walk out of the river bottoms and cross the river in an old wooden boat and then walked two miles to catch the school bus. And if we hadn't left the house by five thirty am, we would miss the bus. I was nine years old and my sister was twelve. Mama usually milked the cows, but this morning she was sick, so my dad sent me and

my sister to do it instead. I was holding a lnern so my sister could see, and we were almost finished with the chore when something began to push on the back of the barn. We thought it was our old horse that had run outside. I held up the lantern so I could see what was going on, and boy, did we get the scare of our lives. There was a giant, hairy man at least six feet tall at the armpit, reaching and swatting at the thin air, trying

to grab onto something. From where it reached its arm end, the creature would have been over seven feet tall, and if it had pushed any harder on that door, it would have been in the barn with us. We ran back to the house and got ready and walked our way to the bus stop. That thing must have followed us, because a giant, barefoot track was freshly made in some mud in the middle of the road. It was so fresh that the water was still running into the track.

The track looked like a large man's foot track. But this was in the middle of the winter, so no one goes barefoot in the winter in Arkansas. Not even then. Then, in the summer of twenty twenty, my husband and I would often go down to the general area to fish and just get out of the house. It was a good escape from people. Exciting times with our cryptid friends

over the course of about four weeks. The first time was quite exciting because the river was full and had been flooded frequently, and finding bigfoots in the area really took me by surprise. We had been fishing and we were waiting for darkness, hoping that we could catch a fish or two. I had seen some movement in the wooded area across the river from us, and just as

it was getting dark, we heard a whooping yell. It came loud and clear, just fifty yards straight across the river from us, and not a moment later, a second one did the same thing. Now this was the sound that no human could have imitated. The second one came fifty yards from us to our left. Altogether there were about eight different whoops done within two minutes. Now, these whoops sounded female to me, and there was a group of whoops about one hundred yards that sounded really young.

I let out a whoop as loud and clear as I could, and that's when all hell broke out. The adult sounding critters got really excited and the young one started screaming. I think my husband got scared, because he said, let's get out of here. On another night, we went back to the same spot the same exact time, and the creature started whooping again, only this time they began trying to yelp like coyotes, and they weren't doing a very good job of it. We got our stuff and

got out of there. I have multiple scle Excuse me, I can't pronounce that I have multiple sclerosis, and I can't move very fast. Anyway, A week later we went back. This time there was a handprint on the edge of the river bank and there was a track next to my chair. I looked at the handprint and the footprint and determined they were not human. That footprint was tend to fifteen inches long, and the handprint was what I assumed a gorilla would have made. That evening, we didn't

try to disturb the sasquatches. After fishing for a while, we called it today and we went home, and then a week later we went back again. We always kept a baseball bat in the truck to make woodknocks with, so this time we decided to make some knocks before we left. My husband sounded off with three loud knocks, and we got a surprise when just five seconds later, woodknocks began sounding off on the other side of the river. I counted nine separate individuals knocking. That was the last

time we heard from them. After all that, I won't be happy until I get to see a sasquatch out in the open. Once when I was living in Wyoming, my husband and I, along with some friends, decided to go on a high altitude fishing trip in the wind River Mountains. The highest mountain in this area was thirty teen thousand feet. We were going to hike into some of the lakes and fish for brook trout and rainbows

and grayling and anything else that would bite. We made camp on the first evening and we ate our supper. It was getting late and we were standing around the campfire when out of nowhere came a bull moose. Now that moose was running as if the devil himself was after him. It just about ran over the campfire and down the road about one hundred yards, and then he wheeled around, and here he came again. We couldn't see

anything that could have spooked him so bad. My husband and I cautioned everybody to be sure and to put all their food away before turning in, so it was not to attract unwanted visitors. Thinking nothing more of it, we crawled in our tent and at five am, our labradoodle let out a blood curdling growl that woke us up, thinking codies were messing with her. I grabbed my flashlight and my pistol and an unzip the tent. I shined the light and I saw blonde hair on some kind

of animal. I told my husband to shoot up in the air to scare it off. He shot twice, and when that thing stuck its head around the tree, we got the scare of our lives. It was a grizzly bear. It stood flat footed, a head taller than I was. I told my husband that that thing could have bitten my head off, and it was a wonder that it didn't. My husband shot up into the air twice, more like a bolt of lightning. The bear was gone. It was

only a blur and it happened really fast. But knowing the bear was in the area, we gathered all our stuff and we got out of there. That was the last time we ever slept on the ground. We went the next weekend and got ourselves a topper for our truck. That bear was and still was the most frightening thing that has ever happened to me. But then again, I have yet to see a sasquatch in the open, and if that happens, I may stay and corrected. I hope

you enjoyed my short story. Yes, we enjoyed your short story. That was wonderful. Wow. She's had encounters with bigfoot since she was a kid, and then it just stopped. She's not seeing them everywhere or hearing them everywhere anymore. It just stopped, which is unusual for someone who has experiences with bigfoot because they normally have bigfoot experiences all their lives. And then so the bigfoot, the sysquatch experiences stop. And then came the grizzly bear experience, which I think would

scare me more than anything. I don't know why, but being out west in the mountains and even seeing a grizzly bear that's close enough to run me down. It puts such a fear in me. It's hard to describe. And I'm reluctant to go out there and just do like solo hiking or even group hiking because of the bears. I've just heard too many stories. But it's almost like, you know, people tell bigfoot stories and so other people won't go in the woods, but I know bears that

killed people, they'll eat you. And if they have cubs around. It's a female with cubs around, you're almost sure to get that bear's attention and that full attention on you. I don't know, it's hard to describe it. It's a scary thing for me. And now we have black bears in Mississippi. And I ran up on a track not too long ago. That was the biggest track I've ever seen of some kind of critters back here behind my house, on my neighbor's property, and it's up on a levee

where it's muddy, and it was a clear track. I couldn't tell exactly what it was. I took a picture of it, and I started, not right away, but a few days later I started looking for wildlife in this area and what kind of tracks they made, And I found out it was a beaver track. A beaver has the strangest track you've ever seen. But I thought for a minute it might be a bear. There's more to that story, but I'm not going to bore you with it anyway. I'm just rambling. This was a great story

about Bigfoot and her encounter with a grizzly bear. I love this story. Seventy one years old. I think I got this story back in twenty twenty or twenty twenty one, so this is an old one. I'm still reaching back that far to get stories, so I've still got thousands to do. So I appreciate the woman for sending it, and it makes me wonder if she's ever seen Sosquat since that time out in the open, if she still thinks the grizzly bear thing is the scariest thing she's

ever seen. I don't know. Let's go on to another story. Thank you, ma'am. This is a dog story. A few months ago I asked people if they had dog stories they'd like to share with the audience to send them in, and I got probably a dozen of those. I think I've done four or five of them, and so I've got several to do and I'll drop them in podcast as we go along. But here's one that I thought was pretty good. We have a dog named Dipstick, but

we didn't name him that because he's stupid. Our daughter named him after one of the pups and the one hundred and one Dalmatians show, her favorite movie. We got him and his brother, Domino, in February of twenty sixteen. They were half Great Pyrenees and half Blue Healer. We lost Domino when he was four due to a mass in his abdomen. I held him all the way home after the bat put him down, and my husband buried

him in the back of our property. He was sweet and loving and brave too, and always standing between me and any stranger who might have passed by our home. He never heard anyone, but I have no doubt he would have if someone had tried to harm me. We had a strange neighbor at the time who would often come to the fence and talk to me while I worked in the garden. Domino would stand by the fence and growl, low his eyes on him the entire time. Dipstick, meanwhile,

would hide behind me. Is comforting to know that Domino picked up on my and Dipstick's discomfort around this person. Dipstick is still around and has matured into a good watchdog. He howls the most mournful howl you've ever heard anytime he hears a siren. He's also an unrelenting chicken killer, so we do keep an eye on him. Once, when our two dwarf Nigerian goats escaped their pen and got into the yard with Dipstick, we were amazed that he

didn't hurt them. Instead, the three of them took up like buddies, and since that day they frolic around our property together. They're the best of friends. A stray dog recently climbed the fence and entered our yard, intent on reaching the goats. They ran away and climbed up on their table, while good old Dipstick stood in front of the intruding dog, barking and keeping him away. As soon as my husband got there, the stray took off, but I swear Dipsticks took his chest out and strutted around

the proud protector. It makes me smile just thinking about it. I think the small female goat. Buttercup has been love struck ever since. Oh that's a great story. You know, dogs have different demeanors. Every dog I've had has got a drastically different personality than all the rest of the dogs I've never I've had one dog, my dog Roxy. She's dead now, but she's in some of my old videos. She's the brown brindled dog. And she was like our She's the smartest dog we ever had, and she was

like Domino. If the grandkids were here and they were out wandering around in the woods or were around this property, she stayed right with them the whole way. She never let them out of her sight, and she would only see them maybe once every two months, but she remembered them, and she knew them, and she knew that they needed to have someone with them in the woods. And I'm sure if they got turned around, she'd have got them home. She's like Domino. She was kind of the pack leader.

And then I have plenty of dogs. I've had plenty of dogs like Dipstick. They're kind of the followers, you know, they're part of the pack, but they're not a leader. And they'll do a lot of barking. They'll stand behind Ji in bark, but they won't really do anything serious. So anyway I could relate to this story exactly. I could see all my dogs' personalities in these in Domino and Dipstick. I thought it was great. If you've got dog stories and you'd like to hear it on this podcast,

email it to me. I'm not promising i'll get to it next week or even next month, but I will get to them. I will do them all. They're so good. I love to read about dogs, and I appreciate this person sending the story because I loved it. Thank you, ma'am. The story took place near the East Tennessee, North Carolina border, right in the Cherokee National Forest many years ago. When I was in college and had fewer responsibilities, a few friends and I used to drive around the back roads,

listening to music and talking. We usually went at night, well after we'd gotten off work, and since we worked a restaurant and fast food jobs, that could be pretty late in the evening. One summer night, there was going to be a meteor shower, and I convinced my friend John to drive out and see it, so we took his car and another friend Jim tagged along. The road we were on was residential, but rural enough to only have houses every few hundred feet or so. And then

suddenly the road took somewhat of a sharp turn. On the left hand side there was a bank about five feet high with the manicured bushes on top. I saw gray furry legs from the ankles to the hips, step twice up the bank and disappear into the bushes. Did you see that? Show? Got it? Neither of my friends had noticed it, but of course they took the opportunity to make fun of me. I was sure it had been by a pedal and large. I didn't think it

was a bigfoot immediately. My first thought was that it had been the mythical wampus cat of the Cherokee, especially since what I saw reminded me of my sister's cat with silver, gray white tips that made it look like it was constantly covered in dust. But it was only later that I knew what I had seen. Twenty minutes after I saw these legs, we got to our destination, the man made dam of a Tva lake, right on

the edge of the National Forest. It was a good spot to see the stars, because there were no lights around to interfere with a meteor shower. There was a gate that closed its sundown to prevent people from driving out onto the dam after dark, but there was a parking lot close by with a grass median in the middle.

John drove around the median so that we'd be facing the exit once we got back to the car, and parked across several spots, since we were already the only ones crazy enough to come out to the middle of Nowhere to look at the stars. At one am in the morning, John hadn't even turned the key to shut off the car when there was a loud banging on the roof that startled and scared us. Four raccoons had jumped from their tree and landed on the roof of the car, and they were running as fast as they

could down the windshield and across the hood. It scared us, to say the least. Jim gave a quick laugh, but I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. There was something else out there. From the back seat, I caught a quick glance at John's expression in the rear view mirror. He was staring at something behind the vehicle. I've never seen fear that in anyone's eyes. Sense I turned and looked out the rear window at what he

was seeing. It was at least ten feet tall, and it had a cone shaped head, had broad shoulders and long arms. I could only see the silhouette of this creature against the night sky. I couldn't see any color than black. I couldn't see a face, and no fur or any other details. It was barely ten feet behind us, and its legs were so long it could have reached us in two steps if it wanted. Before I could gasp or scream, John gunned the gas. One of the back tires hit the curb on our way out of

the parking lot, but he never slowed down. I put my head down and I tried not to think about what would be scarier, wrecking and flipping the car on one of these scary curves, or having Bigfoot catch up to us. Jim kept yelling what are you doing? Where you going? But John never answered. He just drove back to the city lights as fast as he could. I don't remember most of the trip back home. I'm sure

I was in shock. It wasn't until months later that I realized the first sighting I had that night was probably also a bigfoot. Based on the lay of the land. It's entirely possible that it was the same one, as it could have climbed the mountain much quicker than we did driving slowly along a curvy mountain road with only our headlights. Whether it was one or two of them that I saw that night, I'll never know. We all

drifted apart. In college, we never told Jim what we'd seen, though based on John's reaction, Jim knew something frightening had happened. He never asked why we didn't get out of the car and see the meteor shower. Now. I've told this story maybe twice since then, always to other believers. It's not as exciting or in up as many of your other stories, but it was pretty scary at the time. A few years after college, I went back up to the dam during the daylight hours and with a family

member to go fishing. I noticed that the gates were brand new, but the older ones nearby hadn't been removed. A ranger happened to be nearby, and he'd said that they'd been damaged by a car crashing into them, but the cagy way that he said it and the way that they had been twisted out of shape told me that he knew that wasn't what had happened. I just nodded and made a mental note to be gone long

before sunset? Man, what are you talking about? That? This is not an in depth exciting story like the others that I read. This is just this is just exactly or more exciting than any of them. This is a typical Bigfoot encounter, at least the ones that I get. I thought it was too terribly exciting. And this podcast seems to be full of people recounting older episodes in

their lives where they either see or hear. This one was an actual visual, but they see or hear or smell something that they just know they know what it was. I thought this was fantastic. I wish I could say more about it, because I'm just plumped after reading it. But that's about all I can say. What a great story. And he's revisited the place and the gates are all twisted up, and he knows what twisted those gates up. That's what's kind of creepy. Anyway, Thanks for the story.

We loved it. Thank you so much. To you and all the writers who send me stories. This was fantastic. Listening to the stories you tell has brought back a lot of good memories. I grew up hunting and fishing and pulling gen seeing and exploring God's beautiful Appalachian Mountains. I had more exposure to Bigfoot than most people would have or even want. We lived beside a clan that was, for the most part, relatively passive. Not to say they didn't get an attitude every now and then, but we

learned to deal with them. I remember the first time I ever saw one up close. Grandma used to bake pies in the late afternoon for dessert or for breakfast the next day. She had just finished putting one pecan and one apple pie on the shelf next to the window over the sink to cool well. I was finishing lunch at the table when I heard my Grandma start yelling. She came through the door of the living room with a switch in her hand and headed straight for the

window where the pies were. There. In the window, I saw a furry hand grab a hold of the pie. Grandma wielded that hickory like a ninja sword, smacking that hairy hand on the knuckles. As it and the pie went out the window. I ran over to see who had done it, and what I saw would be the first of many times that I saw him and his family. This creature was six feet tall, and he was running with a pie in his hand, faster than any animal I'd ever seen. He made a beeline straight for the woods,

making a grunting and laughing sound the whole way. A Grandma was hollering at it, as any good Christian woman would have done to any pie thief. Grandpa came running through the living room door just in time to see it disappear into the darkness of the tree line. He started to chuckle because of Grandma, but he clambed up real quick. With one look from her and her country's sword, he wiped that smile right off his face, and his

hand fell on my shoulder. Said he needed my help, and I followed him out to the front porch, and he sat down in his rocking chair, and he bit off a chew at tobacco and offered me some. We sat there for a quiet minute until he said, I bet you want to know what that furry creator was, don't you? At twelve years old. I'd been exposed to a lot of things on the farm. I had killed and plucked chickens. I had prepped hogs and cattle for slaughter.

I had hunted and skinned deer, squirrels, and about anything else that ran or crawled but failed to get away from us. I was shocked by what I had seen, but more curious than anything else. Grandpa told me that this was a bugger, at least that's what us folks in the hills call them. He explained that there was a family of them that lived several miles over the ridge. Last he counted, there were six of them. But what

I saw was a young male about my age. He said it wasn't the first time Grandma had had to get on that one. He never did any harm, but like Grandma's cooking, couldn't get mad at that. Everybody loved Grandma's cooking. He went on to tell me that the klan had lived in the area most of his life. Every now and then they would come in for a visit, but they never got real close. Only the younger male had the courage to test the speed of Grandma's hickory switch.

They sometimes came around at night, but usually just to pass through or take a peek through the windows. He went on to say that they'd run into them in the woods on occasion, though you'd never get a clear view of them unless they wanted to be seen. The key, he said, was that if you feel like someone's got eyes on you, they probably do. And he warned me to never approach them, and if I did happen upon one accidentally, it was gunned down, hands up, big smile,

and back away real slow. He said, they might growl or make a weird noise at me, but that would probably be the end of it. Well, sure's rain. I was blessed to have many encounters with them, and not all of them were pleasant. There were a few times when I was caught face to face with one, but I remembered what Grandpa taught me, gun down, hands up, big smile. I never had a problem. If I have time, I might write down some of my experiences and send

them in to you. I think your audience would enjoy it. I'm fifty seven years old now and I don't really care what people think. Am I crazy? Well, hell, yes, I'm crazy, but delusional, not at all. I'm like you, Cam. I don't live to prove their existence or disprove their existence. I know they exist from my own experiences, and make no mistake. They can hurt you, but they will also live with you if you let them. You have to treat them as you would any other of God's predators.

Give them respect, give them room, and everybody most of the time will get along. By the way, that young fellow who took grandma's pie, she found six fresh apples on her window seal the next morning. Oh man, hey, first, let me say I'm gonna apologize about that chicken outside my door. It keeps yapping. Listen to her, Listen to her. You know what, I think I got my side by side out there. I think she's just laid an egg in the seat. That's what they do when they they

celebrate after they lay an egg. I bet I find an egg in the seat. Anyway, this story was great. I really appreciate it. I think bigfoot in Appalachia is quite common. And these people that claim that they live with them, I have no reason at all to doubt these people. They are so matter of fact about it, like this man was in his story. He's just a matter of fact about it. Well, there, we live with them. They steal my grandma's pies, they love her cooking. They're shy.

Only one of them's brave. Everything he said in this really makes a lot of sense to me. So I appreciate the story. Thank you for taking the time to write it. I know the audience loved it. And if you do have time, I'd love to read some of your other experiences, so please send them in. Thank you for the story. Okay, that was a great set of stories.

You know, I just randomly run my cursor through the folder and I just pick out random stories four or five, and I slide them over into this podcast file and I just start reading them. I'm just getting lucky and getting some really good ones. So with that, we'll go ahead and wind this one up. Thank you all for listening. I really appreciate you, and we'll see you on the next week. Thank you.