Okay, I've got another story here from Australia. The gentleman is from Townsville in Queensland, Australia. He writes, one time, when I was a younger lad, I saw some yowis attack a boomer that's an old gray kangaroo. When I saw them come out, I hid behind an old tree stump. They grabbed his back legs and ripped them right off, and then held them up like trophies. Another yowie, much bigger and older looking than the others, came out of
the bush. I was six feet seven inches tall back then, and even the smallest of the three made me look small. The big one's body had more muscles than the incredible hult. I watched them and they started fighting over the kill. The two younger ones took the legs from the boomer. The growl like lions and start smashing each other with the legs. It was so powerful that I felt the ground vibrating under my feet. The bigger Yaowi towered over them like a tree, and he growled. It was so
loud that I lost control of my bowels. He banged the two younger ones heads together like wrestlers, and then kicked one in the chest. It flew into the air and into the bill of bong. In Australia, a billabong is like a small lake. But this was no small bill of bong. It was big enough to hold some big old saltwater crocs, some as long as twenty feet that I had seen myself. The Yaowi hit the water right by an old salty croc. He grabbed the croc by the tail and picked it up right out of
the water, and he punched it in the head. The old croc grabbed onto the yawi's leg, and the aoy screamed and roared, and the croc grabbed onto his hand and fingers. The other yaoi stopped fighting over the kangaroo and joined the one in the billomong. One of them jumped in and smashed the croc's head with his fist, and then it grabbed the croc by the jaws and opened them so wide that its head bent backward and
the jawbone snapped. Then they tore the thing apart. One ripped its tail off, and another ripped its back legs off. One pushed its finger into the belly and ripped it open and tore the guts out and then started eating them. All. The blood in the Billomong brought more crocs, and the alleys took what body parts they could, threw it over their shoulders and jumped back onto land. I felt the earth shake again like an earthquake. After they vanished into
the bush. I crawled out from behind a tree stump in complete shot. I slapped my face to get my head working again, and then I went out to measure one of their footprints against my own. I'm a big guy. I wear seventeen shoes. You can't get that of shoe in Australia, so I have to order them from the United States. When I put my shoe next to the footprint, it was much longer and wider, the biggest footprint I
had ever seen. I look into the bill of Bong and saw the other crocs eating the one the Yooi's ripped up. I've seen yowis and other parts of Australia too. I think they must be magical or something. I told my experience to some Aboriginals and they told me the Yoois talk to them and work with them too. Some are very wonderful at heart, the brother of people and guardians to the earth long before white men landed in Australia. But tribal Yoois are cannibals. The aboriginals told me stories
about years of giant lizards fighting with the Yoois. It started with a young yaowie playing in the bill of bong just like human kids do, splashing in the water and playing around. A giant lizard much bigger than the old salty crocs went after it, and it bit the young Yaoi's leg off and bloodied the water, and all hell broke loose. The other Yaois heard the younger one howling and then went to the billabong. A group of them jumped in the water and smashed the lizard's ind
and tried to free the younger one. In the end, two yaois died. The man who told me the story said the mother of the young one that died was mummified holding her dead child, showing they have great power of love for each other, just like us humans do. This event started the Yaoi's hatred for the lizards and the crocs, and that's the end of the story. That is a woo man. This guy witnessed an action packed day at the at the Billabong right behind the stump.
I thought this was pretty amazing. I wanted to share it with you, A pretty good story from Australia. I hope you liked it. I appreciate the writer sending it. Read them all. I can't attest that any of these, not one single story I've ever read is true, but I read them all, so I hope you guys enjoyed that. It's pretty suspenseful. Okay, let's go to another one. Welcome to the Dixie Crypti Channel. My name's Cameron Buckner. We don't ask for money, we don't have membership dues. Everything
on this podcast is free. I've got five stories brand news stories for this podcast, and at the end, after the fifth one, I'm going to drop a couple of archive stories for people who may not have heard them. Hope you enjoyed this podcast. All right, here we go. I was raised in the small town of Eldridge, Alabama. One night in the summer of nineteen ninety, my family and I were watching TV with the windows open. Out of nowhere, my father jumped up, He grabbed the remote,
and he shouted, did y'all hear that? My mother and I shrugged and he told us to wait and listen. We got up off the couch and walked out the front door, and we looked around right across from us as my grandfather and cousins trailer. As we looked toward their home, we saw an eight foot tall bigfoot standing at my cousin's window, staring at him as he slept. My dad got on the phone and he called my
grandfather and he told him what was happening. My grandfather grabbed his thirty thirty Winchester rifle and he walked quickly but quietly to my cousin's bedroom. When he opened the door, he caught the bigfoot reaching in the window toward my little cousin. And when he realized what he was looking at and what this big brute was trying to do, we heard him yell out, I don't think so, you stinking sob and he opened fire on it. He shot
it straight in the chest. The bigfoot roared and hit the side of my grandfather's trailer so hard that the force knocked it off its brick foundation. There we were in our home right across from it, watching it all happen, and my dad and I were in productive mode at that point, we grabbed our rifles and joined our grandfather outside and we unloaded into the beast. That thing roared and tore through the trees like a D nine bulldozer. My mother called the police while we were checking on
my cousin. He was unaware of anything happening. The gunshots in the same room barely even woke him up. I swear that kid could have slept through a raging hurricane. Thirty minutes later, his two deputies showed up and we told them what happened. After hearing everything, one of the deputies took his flashlight out and he shown it in our eyes and asked us where the drugs were. I thought my grandfather and dad were about to whoop his
ass until the other deputy stepped in. He told his partner to open his eyes and look at the condition of the trailer. There was no man who could cause that kind of damage to a mobile home and knock it off its foundation. Then he pointed his flashlight a few feet away and lit up a massive footprint this beast had made. There were complete right and left prints, and then another right print and three steps, and that's all it took for the bigfoot to reach the wood.
We measured the tracks and they were nearly seventeen inches long and six inches wide. The deputy with common sense said it looked like a bigfoot. He took the report and took the pictures right before he left, and he looked at us and he said, don't let nobody tell you that this was a bear, and then he left. We love your show, and we've been listening for almost six years now. It's okay to use my name. I know what I saw, and the writers as Elvis man,
what an exciting story. I wonder if they've had any other activity around there. I wonder what happened to the bigfoot that got shot up. Do those things just heal miraculously or do bullets just not hurt them? I don't know. I don't know. This thing got shot up pretty good. These folks were ready. Don't be reaching in and grabbing a little cousin through the trailer window. You're gonna get shot Bigfoot. This was really exciting. I appreciate you Elvis
for sending it. It was great. I hope you guys are doing okay. I was raised believing that Bigfoot is real, but I never gave it much thought, and I never went out of my way to look for it. And my dad was raised on the reservation in Nevada, and he told me about the thigh eaters and the hairy people, they're not the same thing. I was raised in Hawaii. Even there you can find the mummy fied remains of the red haired giants in massive canoe use, including those
of a warrior woman who was seven feet tall. They came from a comet and began the ruling class, though the truth of that has been lost to time. I left Hawaii to explore the mainland and pursue a career in modeling. After graduating from high school in twenty eleven, I found myself frequently traveling to California, Arizona, Nevada, Texas, and Mississippi for weeks to months at a time. Each place I've been, I've had experiences. I've noticed many correlations
between the missing people in state parks. I believe the giants and the hairy people have an affinity for human women, and I do believe they have preferred the look of human women. It's just a gut feeling, but it seems there's a preference for First Nations women. The first time I saw the pictures of missing women in British Columbia, the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end. It made every experience I've had suddenly more troubling.
I'm Native American and Polynesian and of European descent. These women looked like they could be my relatives. It was hard to ignore. My first experience was in twenty thirteen when I was in Texas. There wasn't a whole lot to do if you were in the sticks. That evening, I was at a friend's house. It was around nine pm, and my friends and I decided it was a great
time to play hide and seek in the woods. I was hiding under another house on this property with my teammate when a smell came out of nowhere and saturated the air. I said to my friend, this is a stupid spot to hide. The pipes must be leaking. The last thing I want is pink eye because of this. But when we climbed out of that spot, the smell was much worse, and it hit us like a wall. Somehow, my eyes were drawn to the tree line, and as soon as I looked, a section of the trees started shaking.
As if something had its hand around the trunks and was waving them back and forth to get my attention. Well, I couldn't see anyone out there, but I noticed that the tree line was opaque when before the moonlight splintered through it. Well, I screamed like a pansy and I ran away. I never played that game again. When I was at my friend's house, the experience scared her so bad she refused to talk to me about it. A month later, thirty miles away from the first encounter, I
was home on the back ten with my dog. I had just had an argument with my boyfriend and I was crying, sitting on the ground like a baby. This wasn't my finest moment, but I think that's how things unfolded the way they did. Now. The neighbors had cows that frequently got up on the property that i'd help wrangle up and bring home. I was all too familiar with what a cow sounded like, how loud they can be, and what it sounds like when they were walking through
the thicket. I could hear the cows making a lot of noise, but they were far away and getting farther, And there I was crying about a stupid argument. When my dog went suddenly on the edge, his tail straight up and the hair on his back standing up. He was looking out the treeline, not moving. He was growling. He wasn't doing anything, but he was frozen. I could hear the footsteps, one after another as the autumn leaves
crunched underfoot. It was loud and heavy, and I could feel each of its steps in the ground underneath me. And then I heard a mooing, only it didn't sound like a cow. It sounded like someone being a fool and imitating a cow. Well, I sat there, confused as this voice in the footfall got closer. My dog was still frozen. Nothing clicked for me until the footsteps stopped right in front of me and the trees thirty feet away.
That's when my dog started growling. And when my eye searched the trees, I saw the top of the creature's head, back lit by the sunset. I jumped up, grabbed my dog ran back to the house. I wasn't afraid I was going to be taken. I wasn't afraid I was going to be killed. I was afraid that I would see its face. I don't know why, but the thought terrified me. In the end, I didn't make out any
details because all I saw was this round head. I later returned to that spot to measure its height, and I felt sick to my stomach with shock because the creature would have been nine feet tall. I knew it wasn't some giant cowboy because I think I would have noticed a nine foot tall cowboy walking around our town. When I told my dad about it, I got in trouble. He believed every word he told me. My crying called it it probably thought I was in danger or hurt
and was coming to check me out. My stomach sank. I thought about the pictures of the missing women I had seen, and I thought about our remarkable resemblance and how close I might have been having my picture on a heartbreaking list next to theirs. That was the last time I cried like a baby in the woods. My dad made me promise that I would never do it again. I once made a trip across the country from my school in San Diego, California, all the way to Tallahassee, Florida.
I stopped on top of a mountain somewhere in Arizona for a break in the middle of the night, something rocked my car and it woke me up well. I finally made it to Tallahassee, but my Ford fair Lane had stopped cooperating. I ended up having to hitch a ride to my girlfriend's house, and she lived a good distance from town. On my way back to my car later that night, I had to walk through the woods.
Her father and I would go squirrel hunting in those same woods, and we would always come back with enough of those tree rats to make a good size purlough for the entire family to feast on. Sometimes I would go out on my own and track deer that lived out there. I was a good tracker, if I say so myself. I could walk up on a pile of scat that was still steaming and feel satisfied knowing how close I was to my prey. I guess that's the Native American in me. My grandfather was Park Creek Nation,
better known as the Seminoles. On my way through these woods that I had been in many times before, I kept noticing something walking just out of sight but in hearing distance. I stopped a few times to take a good look to see if I could spot something, but when I stopped, it stopped, and that gave me the creeps, Like you would not believe something was tracking me. I guess it's the way the deer felt when I tracked them.
It was a six mile hike back into town, and for most of the way, something heavy in the woods walked with me. I did make it home okay, but the creepiness of that walk has stayed with me. Thank you for letting me share my story. I was a good story. Really good story too. Stories in this podcast by Native Americans who have frequent encounters with Bigfoot. It's pretty awesome. I don't know if it's something in their blood or what it is, but Native American people seem
to see them all the time. Thank you for the story. It was great. All right, here's the story from my hometown, Memphis, Tennessee, where all the National Guard people are at right now cleaning that city up. Well, I'm sure happy about that. Maybe I'd go over there next spring and go to a Redbird's game. I won't even go oh there. There's so much crime in Memphis, and I'm so happy that's happening. Anyway, here's a story from Memphis. Hey there, mister Dixie. I
hope this finds you well and happy. I'm in my fifties and I lived north of Dallas, Texas. I was born in your neck of the woods, and I lived in Frasier for much of my childhood. A while back, you shared a story about a UFO siding in Memphis, and it reminded me of something my mom and her best friend saw in the late seventies when I was nine years old. They were driving to her friend's apartment when a huge, glowing orange ball appeared in the sky in front of them. They stopped and got out of
their car. They watched it move like nothing they had ever seen, until it went straight up and it was gone. The strange thing was is that it was in the middle of the day on a Saturday. People were in their yards and on the sidewalks, and they stopped to watch it. But there was no noise at all. Dogs even and stopped barking. When it disappeared, everyone just went back to what they were doing. No one said a word or even seemed to care about how big and
bright this glowing ball zipping around the sky was. My mom had another strange story about a hermit who lived down at the Mississippi River. One night, she and my dad and another couple on a double date heard about this hermit, and they wanted to see if it was true. They walked through a small patch of the woods before reaching the water, and when they got there they saw a hand dug ditch in the river bank looked like something was living in there, and there was a big
pile of bones nearby. Well, they had seen enough, and when they turned tail and ran back the way they came, they heard something running toward them. They jumped in the car and tried to take off, but the hermit had appeared out of nowhere and slammed his hands on the trunk of the car, leaving big dents in it. That was no easy feet, considering those cars were made of real steel. I asked my mother the other day about what the hermit looked like. She said, this thing was huge,
and it was dirty and hairy. Ask if she thought it could have been a sosquatch, but she said no, he was wearing tattered pants. He was a man who went wild. I have a couple more stories that happened to me, but I will save those for another day. I love your channel, and now listen as I clean my house. Thanks for reading. I really appreciate this story. When I was younger, I remember hearing stories about that
hermit that lived down on the river. Now, Memphis is a big city, and even back then when we were kids in the seventies, it was a pretty big city and we didn't know everybody, but words got around Memphis, and it was almost like a always kind of characterized where I grew up as a giant town, because even though you know, there were huge neighborhoods, it's just a big metropolitan area. But these rumors and stuff seemed to
spread all over Memphis about all kinds of things. And I remember I lived out east toward kind of where Perkins and Summer Avenue intersect. Anybody from Memphis will know where that is, but I lived in that area, and we had rumors around our neighborhood about hermits living down in the ditches, which we would go looking for. We'd put our bikes down in those ditches and ride for miles.
I remember this story, is what I'm trying to say, And I thought it was interesting to get a to get it, actually get an email about it from somebody, because it was those were all always intriguing rumors, and come to find out, this one down at the river was true. So I really appreciate this story. Thank you, ma'am for sending it.